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#when I was in my creative writing class I noticed when writing a book for my final project that I could write one paragraph for each chapter

writingwithfolklore · 5 months

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The (not so) Secret Magic of Asking for Things

I’ve taken three classes I didn’t have the prerequisites for, gotten two jobs in editing, and was offered an internship with a big magazine. My secret? I asked.

It sounds almost too simple to be true, but that really is all you need to do to get what you want. Ask the right way, to the right person, at the right time, and you can get just about anything you want. The worst thing that has ever happened to me from asking for what I want was an apologetic no. The best things? Jobs I love, classes I’m enjoying, and an internship that’s going to look amazing on my resume.

When emailing, there’s a structure to making requests. Here’s an email I sent out to take a creative writing class I shouldn’t have been able to take as example:

Subject: Program Override for (Course) (keep it short and clear)

Hello Person,

I hope you’re having a good morning/week/weekend. (always open with a nice pleasantry. Sets a good tone).

I am a third year student in (program) looking to take (course), however I noticed there was a program restriction that bars me from registering for it. (Start with a very quick context, only keep the details that are absolutely necessary.)

Creative writing is my greatest passion and I constantly strive to be better at it. (Course) would allow me to grow my skills in this area and gain valuable connections with other writers at (school). If there is any way to override the restriction, I would be endlessly grateful.

(Make personal connection and state clearly what you want.)

Thank you,

(Sign off)

Easy peasy, right?

Other opportunities I got came from knowing the right people. I asked one of my profs if she knew of any internships, and she happened to know an editor of a magazine that she reached out to on my behalf. Within a month I had an interview with them. I made friends with a guy who was hiring for an editing position—I told him I would be interested in it, and in a few weeks I got the job.

Make clear to the people around you the goals and things that you want. I tend to mention these goals during the “say one interesting thing about you” class introductions thing they make us do.

So many times have I said, “Hi, I’m Annai and I’m a novel writer looking to get published in YA and hopefully children’s writing” and have had people come up to me with offers to collab on a children’s book, or who know someone getting published, or have a family member who is an editor.

If you want it, just ask.

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #the secret magic of asking for things #getting what you want #life? advice

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drchucktingle · 3 months

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Good day Dr. Tingle. I haven't read your stories, but I've known about you from afar in this website for a while. Your recent post about separating Ideas and Message is very similar to how I teach a class. I wanted to ask you, if you could share some of your Messages, in whichever structure/length/complexity you think about them before writing, to have some real world examples to show in class.

Personally I tend to simplify and shorten my messages as much as possible, like "everyone deserves forgiveness" for example, so that I can permeate it throughout the story, and so that anyone experiencing the story can come to a similarish conclusion.

I'm curious as to how your Messages look like inside your head, during the creative process. Not the refined versions used for marketing and sales and stuff.

Thank you!

sure buckaroo.

high concept idea of the book STRAIGHT was this: zombie apocalypse story but the rage only effects straight cis people (there is also a second high concept idea in there which is: what if zombie plague only happened one day a year? how would culture handle this politically and otherwise?)

so i had this idea that i thought was good, but before i can write it i think 'well what do i want to SAY about this? what am i FEELING?'

and i realized that i was a little torn about how to write this story because of the one day a year thing. when is it okay to fight back? can you hurt a zombie if it turns back into a person the next day? is that right or wrong? and WHEN is it right or wrong? what situations?

then i realized that with the metaphor of this story what i was really asking was something bigger: why is it up to the victims (in this case queer buckaroos) to be forced to make these decisions? marginalized groups have TWO kinds of violations done to them, the first is the obvious act of violation, but the second is that they are forced to use their time and mental space and emotional tolerance to learn how to HANDLE the first violation in an 'acceptable way'

so THAT became my message. if you want to know how i feel about these questions you can read STRAIGHT and find out.

CAMP DAMASCUS high concept idea was (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ CAMP DAMASCUS STOP READING HERE) what if the church really DID decide the ends justify the means and instead of stopping demonic possession they were inflicting demonic possession to counter sinful acts.

but that is not the message of the book. that is just the idea. if i just had that idea i would not write it, but as things evolved i realized WHAT i wanted to say with this story

in this situation WHO is the force of 'evil'? would it be the demons? would it be the possessed? or would it be the SYSTEM AND MENTALITY that was creating this situation in the first place? so the book sets out the answer this question and express the conclusion that ive made for myself

i also noticed that many churches who are anti gay have a sort of infantilizing trot with how they handle their young buckaroos. this idea that gay feelings will just go away if they are ignored and that they can almost keep young queer buckaroos from ever aging into fully realized adults. obviously i think this is WRONG and so fighting back against this mentality became part of the message as well, and that informed most of the metaphor and symbolism in the book.

it is important to keep in mind that sometimes the message can change. as the book trots along i am LEARNING myself, working out these thoughts on the page and coming to a conclusion of my own. this is actually VERY true of BURY YOUR GAYS, which is probably most autobiographical thing i have written. i will save talking about that MESSAGE and HIGH CONCEPT for after book is out though

EDIT FOR CLARITY OF MY WAY:

when i say i write MESSAGE FIRST that does not mean i think of the message first in TIME (although that does happen sometimes) it means the message is the most important thing over plot or characters or anything like that (although those are important too). it means that i write with message as my north star, which is rare, but it is how i make art

#writing #buckaroo lifestyle #chuck tingle

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thepurestgirll · 2 months

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omgg since requests r open

sorry if this is silly but could i request wanderer with a lonely s/o, like whether he’d start to notice and hang out with them more or not ?

if u do this then thank youu and sorry to fill ur blog with more wanderer 🙏🙏 if this is too boring or something then i’m ok with it being deleted

ur writing is so cute

Comforting silence ✧˖°

You were both in high school when you met. Your quiet and calm demeanor had made him particularly… curious.

He had never spoken to you willingly, the two of you just exchanged glances in the hallway, nothing more than that. Your first direct contact was when the teacher chose the two of you to sit next to eachother, she had thought that if she paired someone who made the least amount of effort in class with Scaramouche, he could improve his grades. Terrible mistake.

Most of the time the music he listened to on his headphones was so loud that even the people sitting in front of you two could hear it. But even though you felt irritated by him, you offered him your book and your notes at the end of each class. Maybe that would somehow make him interested in the subject.

You just didn't expect that instead of being interested in the subject, he would be more interested in you. He wondered why you seemed so shy and distant (as if he himself wasn't distant and rude to others most of the time) and why you didn't seem to be with anyone most of the time. Just sitting in silence as you watch the countless students at school chatting excitedly, while you were left alone in some random corner.

At first he would make excuses, say he had nothing better to do or that it was none of your business every time he approached you. But over time you just got used to his presence, and started hanging out with him. Go to a comfortable coffee shop just to talk to each other, or just go somewhere of your choice. He couldn't care less. If you are happy, so is he.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ Author's Note: My requests are open, feel free to ask for any work involving Genshin and etc, the same thing as always!

Hello there annon, Don't worry about Scara's requests, even i have a little soft spot for our puppet boy <3 I hope you liked what I wrote, I don't have that much creativity right now...

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mydearzero · 2 years

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can you do one with a super shy/socially awkward/anxious person that has a crush on Eddie bc of his confidence and like she sends him little notes and he wants to figure out who it is. if you can't thats all good, thank you!

Thank you for the request! Loved writing this because I too am socially awkward and would absolutely never confess to his face.

Starboy | E.M. x gn!Reader

Summary: You're infatuated with Eddie Munson and decide to start leaving him notes in his locker. He doesn't know it's you, does he?

Fluff + the typical Eddie Munson charm that will kill me someday

Gender neutral reader, no pronouns or descriptions used.

1.6k words

MASTERLIST

You weren't the type of person to be seen. You liked to be in the shadows. You were an audience member. Eddie Munson? He was the performer. The star of the show. He intrigued you. You were enchanted whenever he ented the room.

It hadn't always been this way. You remembered Eddie from a few years back. A reserved yet rebellious boy. He'd grown into quite the confident man.

Eddie didn't just intrigue you. You were downright fascinated, maybe a bit obsessed. The way he strutted through the cafeteria was captivating.

Okay, so maybe you had a little crush on Eddie Munson. It wasn't the end of the world, right? Wrong. People hated Eddie. They said he was a freak running a Satanic cult. Your friends usually didn't buy all the rumours but still steered clear of Eddie. Even if he didn't run a cult, just a D&D club, he still sold drugs.

It didn't matter to you what he did in his free time. You craved his presence, perhaps his attention. You wanted him to see you, to hear you like he was being seen and heard.

It had been two weeks since you started leaving notes in his locker. A last-ditch attempt, really. His locker was the last one on the row your locker was on, so it wasn't too hard to go unseen.

You'd started with a couple compliments, admiring his confidence. Then progressed to confessing how captivating he was, how much you liked that he wasn't scared to be authentic.

You knew Eddie had taken notice of the notes. You'd looked on a few times as he'd opened his locker, perplexed another note would twirl to the floor before his feet. He'd joke with his friends about who they thought the culprit might be, but you hadn't been one of the suspects yet.

They started camping outside Eddie's locker during lunch, the same time you'd usually push the notes through the small roster. You'd have to start getting creative if you intended to keep leaving them. You didn't even know what your end goal was. Did you want him to eventually figure out it'd been you?

Still, you did what you did best. Not utter a word and admire from afar.

You'd slipped up when you saw Eddie roaming the hallway with Dustin Henderson, one of his friends from Hellfire Club. You scurried away from his locker to your own, pretending to have been doing anything but putting a note in his locker.

You felt a sturdy hand on your shoulder just as you put your English book in your locker. Your heartbeat shot through the roof as you turned around. Eddie. Oh god.

"Can I help you?" You asked. Shit, that came out wrong. "Ouch, harsh! Just wondering if you saw anybody near my locker a bit ago, you know... when you were at my locker?" Eddie had a smirk plastered on his face. He couldn't be certain as long as you denied it.

"Why?" you turned back to your locker to grab your History textbook, but it was more to hide the reddening of your cheeks. This might not have been the first time Eddie talked to you, but it was the first time after you'd admitted your feelings to yourself and had started leaving the notes.

"Just... curious. Someone's been leaving me these adorable notes. Want to make sure they're genuine, you know?" Eddie's eyebrows were raised as you met his eyes. "Sorry, no clue." You murmured and closed your locker. You tried to walk away, but Eddie grabbed your arm.

"You're in my history class, right? C'mon, let's go." Did you really have a crush on Eddie? Because you wanted to do nothing more than bash your head against the lockers over and over. Anything but walking with him to History class.

"I'm pretty sure we have quite a few classes together, by the way. Not sure if you've noticed." Eddie started. "Yeah, I've noticed." Your grades had noticed, too. You looked everywhere but the boy walking beside you, chains rattling with every step he took.

You entered your history class and prayed to God he didn't sit next to you. It was probably time to stop believing in any religion altogether, because sit next to you, he did.

It took everything in your power not to glance to your right every 10 seconds. You knew Eddie was trying to get your attention. You knew he just wanted to know who was leaving the notes, but one more word from your mouth would most certainly give you away. You did what you did best, act shy and be way too socially awkward to hold a conversation.

"How come we've never hung out? You seem chill. You're not scared of me, are you? You don't look scared. Flustered, maybe. But why haven't we?" Eddie rambled as the teacher continued his monologue.

"I don't know, Eddie. I'm not exactly as... present as you are."

"Aha! So you can talk! Are you calling me an attention whore?" You turned to Eddie for the first time since your conversation at your locker. "What?! No!" Your perplexed expression put a grin on his face.

"I'm joking, sweetheart. But now that I've got your attention, why don't you come to The Hideaway, this Saturday, 8:30. We're playing."

"Are high schoolers even allowed there? I'm pretty sure their demographic is like 40-year-old men."

"You're allowed when you're with the band." Eddie winked. You melted right then and there in your seat. You didn't reply, but something inside Eddie knew he'd see you in the crowd.

You knew you were down bad. But you knew you'd made a mistake when you actually went to the bar to see Corroded Coffin play that Saturday night.

You told the bouncer you'd come to see them play, and he let you in without question. Guess Eddie was right about that one.

Corroded Coffin really wasn't too bad. They needed to work on sounding more coherent, but they were a band of high schoolers. They'd have all the time in the world to improve.

Eddie, however, was phenomenal. He must've been doing it on purpose, right? Your mouth went dry as you watched his fingers glide over the guitar with practised ease. His eyes found yours a few times as he sang. He sang. You didn't know he could sing.

Eddie thrived in your undivided attention. Were you even blinking? Were you even breathing? He couldn't tell. He had to admit, he'd made more of a show out of playing than he usually did. He enjoyed seeing you fidget.

When the band finished you rushed to the bar to get a drink. Was it hot in here? You jumped when you felt that familiar hand return to your shoulder, spilling some of your drink over yourself. "Oh, my bad." Eddie chuckled as he handed you a napkin.

"It's fine," you sighed. "Kind of owe me a new one, though." You avoided his gaze as usual until his hand reached for your chin. He turned your face to his. "Let's make a deal. I'll get you a new drink, on one condition."

You urged him to continue with your expression. He leaned to your ear "I'll buy you a new drink... if you tell me why you've been leaving those notes in my locker." His whisper made your blood turn cold. Goosebumps trailed from the back of your neck, over your arms, all the way down your legs.

His hands found their way to your waist. You sputtered noises of denial, but Eddie just chuckled. "I've had my assumptions for a week. But your handwriting is quite recognizable, sweetheart. Shouldn't have let me sit next to you in History. Or should've, depending on which outcome you were wishing for." He leaned back in. "But something tells me this is exactly the outcome you were wishing for."

You were speechless. He'd known for over a week it was you? "So, were they serious? Because if they were, I might need to get a restraining order. You're obsessed with me, aren't you, baby?"

That did it. Eddie Munson just called you baby. The gasp that left your mouth told him enough. "That's adorable, really. Who knew a quiet little mouse like you could be so smitten with the town freak, huh?"

You dared meet his eyes. They were filled with humour and something else you couldn't exactly place. He knew how you felt. You'd told him pretty much everything through those notes. The only thing you'd left out was the more... questionable side of things. The side of yourself you didn't know you had until this little infatuation started. You had nothing left to say to him.

"I'm glad it was you. Because now I know I can do this." Eddie pressed his lips against yours with a desperation you hadn't noticed in him before. You put your hands against his chest to steady yourself. Eddie must've noticed your knees had started to buckle, as all that was holding you up at that point was his arms around your waist.

He pulled away and you gasped for air. "If this is going to be a recurring thing, we'll need to work on that, love. Can't have you passing out."

"Don't think you'll have to kiss me to make me pass out, honestly..." You said sheepishly, finally realizing that yes, Eddie knew you'd been leaving him disgustingly sweet notes, and yes, he was in fact not appalled.

Eddie laughed wholeheartedly at your admission. He flagged the bartender down and held you with his other hand like he'd been doing it for years. It was that confidence that had attracted you to him in the first place. "Let's get you that drink I promised, hmm?"

#eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #eddie munson smut

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maislovebot · 1 month

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200 followers event: atsushi x reader

Here’s the m.list for my 200 followers event!!

I hope you enjoy it, goat!! I really don’t like how it turned out, idk why:( smh I think I have to practice writing fanfic more because I’ve been writing a actual book (like multiple chapter long story filled with lore) for my creative writing class and I think it’s making my ff writing suffer😭

Contains: afab + no prns, Atsu calls you ‘pretty’ and ‘dear’, fluff+smut, cuddling:3, slow and sensual, he acts like a little house cat, kinda switch dynamics, Atsu is mostly the dom though, reader calls him ‘Atsu’’, you tease him a lil, reader is wearing shorts, nipple stim, he marks you up (hickies, little nibbles, etc), mentions of you marking him but it doesn’t explicitly happen, brief oral (reader receiving)/cunnilingus, ‘gotta stay quiet’ trope, but not like voyeurism or anything, y’all just live in an apartment and it’s late, accidental teasing/orgasm denial, fingering (reader receiving), implied praise (reader receiving), against the wall, creampie, breeding kink if you really squint, overstim, multiple orgasms, aftercare, pillow talk

11:53 pm. It was 11:53 pm, and Atsushi knew that because it was so late that he should be sleeping, but he couldn’t help but keep chatting away with you.

You were facing one another, talking about miscellaneous things, with no real pattern. Atsushi was looking at you with pure adoration on his face, smiling whenever he saw your eyes staring right into his. Your smile was so comforting, he pulled you close to look at it a little closer. You giggled at this, bringing yourself over top of him to lay on his chest. You laid your head next to his, scratching his scalp. He curled into your touch, laying his hand on your waist to keep you in place. Your knee dug between his thighs, grinding against him slightly, making his eyes shut tight. You hadn’t even noticed you were doing it until Atsushi had started making noises in your ear, noises that sounded like a strange mix of whines and purrs?

“It’s so cute when you purr, Atsu.” You mumbled, breathing into his neck. You dug your knee deeper into his crotch and his arms trembled slightly while he brought his hands down to your sides.

“Ha—stop teasing me..” Atsushi groaned. You giggled again, trailing your hand down to his thighs to lightly caress them. Atsushi trailed his hand under your shirt, slowly snaking up your back. His hands were cold, as they always were. His body was always warm, bubbling, almost. But his hands and feet were always freezing. The cool contrast against your burning skin felt nice.

As he traced along your back, rubbing and scratching it, you slowly stopped your teasing, focusing more on his hands on you. He trailed his free hand down, pulling your pajama shorts and underwear to the side. You gasped, gripping his shoulders tight when he grazed his finger over your clit with the slightest of pressure.

“Bold move, Atsu.” You giggled.

Atsushi tilted his head up to face you, “sorry, dear. It’s too tempting.” Atsushi grinned.

He began applying more pressure to your clit, trailing his other hand down to rest in the waistband of your shorts. He slowly pulled your shorts down, and you lifted yourself up to aid it. Your shorts were collecting at your knees, and he grinned when you gripped the waistband of his pants as well.

“You want me quite a bit, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded, “it’s late. We’ve been talking all night. Kyouka isn’t here. It seems like the perfect time.”

Atsushi nodded, “I agree, don’t worry.”

He cupped the undersides of your knees, pulling you up to meet his face. You ruffled a hand in his hair, kissing him deep. You were straddling Atsushi, laying over top of him while the both of you progressively slid your pants off.

By the time you two were done kissing, you were out of breath, and you’d both managed to kick your pants off of your legs, leaving them somewhere under your covers that neither of you cared to search for.

Atsushi lifted you off of the bed, gripping the underside of your knees tight again. You were surprised that he’d picked you up, as the bed was so warm, but you didn’t question it. You knew you’d both be warm soon.

He pushed you against a wall, kissing you yet again.

You mumbled something through Atsushi’s lips about his body being warm, but he didn’t hear. He was preoccupied. He wrapped his arms around your waist, as did you, holding the both of you in place.

Atsushi was breathing heavily now, touching the tip of your tongue with his. His cheeks were flushed and he was almost putting his full body weight against you to keep you against the wall, before he grabbed both of your hands and held them against the wall. Atsushi held your hands on either side of your hips, slowly dragging them up the wall and over his shoulders, with one hand tangling in his hair. Atsushi was satisfied with that, letting go of your hands and gripping one of your legs yet again and lifting it up.

Atsushi finally paused to take a look at the scene he created, and he turned red when he looked into your eyes and saw how desperate you were. Your eyes were half lidded and almost steamy looking. His eyes slowly trailed down, and he ran his thumb over your chest.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” you joked. He chuckled, leaning down. “Sorry, I can’t help but stare.” He bent his arm to keep holding your thigh, although the position was a bit awkward because he was leaning down and tracing over your clothed chest at eye level. You reached down and took off your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, then your hand took purchase in Atsushi’s hair again. Atsushi nodded appreciatively, kissing your side quickly.

“Thank you,”

He mumbled your name under his breath while he kissed across your chest, before taking your nipple in his mouth. Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling him closer to your chest.

“Hnn..Atsu,” you tilted your head back, his hands tracing your hips and sides making you shiver. Partially from his cold his hands were, and partially because of the sensations. His hands were all over you, trying to touch as much of you as he could.

He slowly trailed over to the other side of your chest, taking the other through his slim fingers. You noticed the small red splotches along your chest where he was licking, and you sighed playfully. At least they were hidden. You really did want him to mark you, there was no better feeling, but it was always embarrassing to explain it to your friends the next day.

Atsushi seemed to be lost in thought, all of his thoughts were focused on your body. He may not admit it, but there’s a part of him that wants to mark you up. There was a part of him that was proud when people noticed his marks. Sure, Dazai teasing him endlessly was always shameful, but the fact that people knew how good he made you feel from the nibbles and licks left on your body made him feel cocky, an emotion he was not used to feeling.

He also took pride in the marks you left on him. The scratches that were vaguely visible on his arms and the back of his neck. The ruffles in his hair after Atsushi had left his apartment in the morning, leaving everyone wondering if he didn’t brush his hair or if you had given him a rather special goodbye. The small marks that you’d given him on his neck from the night before. It was all too much.

He wasn’t thinking about what was going to be on you or him tomorrow though, right now he was focusing on you. On you and the kisses he was leaving all over you as he trailed down your stomach. He heard the small noises that left your throat as you ruffled his hair, and he nibbled on your thighs to get a reaction out of you. You gasped when he lifted your leg up slightly, just enough to gently bite between your thighs. He wasn’t exactly biting hard, but it was certainly visible. Especially because he had little fangs, presumably from his ability. He trailed across your thighs, then he placed his hand between your thighs to gently rest on you. He licked small stripes up your cunt, moaning quietly at the flavor.

“Is this okay?”

“Mhm..” you mumbled.

Atsushi held your thigh up just enough to slightly hinder your movement, taking notice of your small whines and gentle moans. You were trying to be quiet because it was so late, especially because the wall Atsushi had decided to pin you up against was the wall connected to Dazai’s room, and if he figured out what was going on, you both would never hear the end of it. It was hard though. So hard. Especially when Atsushi had started licking small circles to your clit, collecting spit on his tongue to make it feel even better.

“Feel good?” Atsushi whispered.

“Y-yes, Atsu. Keep—keep going.”

Atsushi nodded into your cunt, lifting your leg up slightly higher so he could get a better angle. He was more or less under you now, pulling you down onto his face by the hips while he ate you out. The sudden movement made you whine out, and Atsushi listened to his surroundings intently to make sure no one was overhearing the both of you. Atsushi didn’t seem to notice anything, so he kept going.

His movements were slow, a vast contrast compared to his normally fast paced and relentless speed he liked to set. You could tell he was tired and it was hindering his movements, but he was also in a different mood tonight. He wanted to savor every second with you. Maybe it was because he had a mission in a week, so he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible, or maybe it was just what that night was calling for. Either way, he was taking things slow and you loved it.

Atsushi’s tongue was making you feel so good that you began to subconsciously grind against his face, taking him by the hair, trying to pull him closer. Atsushi was gripping your hips tight, leaving small finger-sized bruises where they were. He normally grabbed your hips even harder, but his tired and exhausted body was making him sufficiently less strong than he’d normally be.

Atsushi’s face was sticky and wet by the time he pulled away. You were so close to the edge that you groaned maybe a little too loud when he pulled away.

“Sorry, dear. I’ll make it up to you.” Atsushi grinned from the floor, looking up at you with bright, tired eyes. You nodded, looking at him wipe his face with his fingers, before using what was originally on his face as lube. The mix of your precum and his spit turned out to be a good substitute. He prodded at your entrance, before slowly pushing two of his fingers inside of you. You gasped at the feeling, as did he. His mind couldn’t help but wander to thoughts of what you’ll feel like on him.

He started off with slowly letting you get used to the feeling, before pumping his fingers inside of you. He spread his fingers apart, watching as you tossed your head back and gripped his hair tighter. As Atsushi stretched you out, he brought his head forward and began to leave small kisses to your hips. He would occasionally accentuate the kiss by staying there for a few extra moments, sucking on the skin softly and leaving small red marks.

Atsushi mumbled something you couldn’t hear, but you could make out one word, that being ‘pretty’.

You couldn’t tell if Atsushi was complimenting you or trying to get your attention because he would call you pretty as a nickname, and also just in general. The idea of not knowing which one he was doing made you chuckle.

“So pretty,” Atsushi mumbled.

You smiled fondly, playing with his hair before tossing your head back again as he curled his fingers up into that spot. That one spot that made your breath hitch and your vision go white. He began to rub circles into your clit with his thumb as well. You could feel yourself getting close again, and it was even faster when approaching this time. You clenched your thighs around his hand, before quickly coming undone. Atsushi slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, helping to aid you through your orgasm.

“Hah..Atsushi, that was really good.”

“Really?” Atsushi pushed farther, needing more praise, craving more praise, per usual.

“Really. Just your hands were able to make my thighs shake,” you pointed down to your thighs comically. “Imagine what else you can do.”

Atsushi nodded enthusiastically, jumping up off the floor and standing in front of you, kissing you yet again. He trailed down your neck, and you jumped slightly when he nibbled on your neck, a very obvious spot, but you were too tired at this point. He was making you feel good, and that was all that mattered right now. You could deal with all that other stuff later.

Atsushi ran his hand down your side, purring again when you scratched his head. It wasn’t necessarily loud purring like you’d hear from a real house cat, but it was certainly audible. He buried his head in your neck again, grinding against you as you pet his hair. With his head still buried in the crook of your neck, he gripped your right thigh again to hold you up. You were open and exposed to him at this angle, and it made you shiver. You could feel him pressing against your skin, his skin was rough, but strange enough, you liked the feeling. He lifted you up a little bit by grabbing your hips, but not high enough for you to make a large impact if you fell.

You reached your hand forward, collecting his precum in the palm of your hand and jerking him off slightly, just enough to get him nice and wet. Atsushi whimpered slightly at the feeling, digging his head further into your shoulder, biting it slightly. The bite hurt a little, making you whine as well.

“A-Atsu, that hurts..”

He nodded, no longer biting you.

“Sorry, your hand just feels really, really good.”

You chuckled a little, quickly being cut off as Atsushi pistoned towards your cunt, looking you in the eyes for validation, before seeing you nod and bring your hand down to his hips to push him forward. He aligned his tip with your entrance, slowly pushing inside.

“So—tight,” Atsushi slurred his words a little.

“Mhm..”

You both stood there for a few moments as Atsushi slowly bottomed out inside of you, before finally reaching the hilt.

“Good?” Atsushi asked.

“Yeah..please move, Atsu.”

Atsushi always loved when you called him Atsu. How it rolled off your tongue, how sweet you were when you called him it, how intimate it was. He loved it all.

He throbbed a little at the nickname, following your orders and briefly starting off slow, before progressively gaining speed. Whenever his hips met yours you saw stars.

You lost your breath as he gained speed, and Atsushi held your hips forward so your hips wouldn’t hit the wall and make noise, but it made the penetration even deeper than you would’ve expected. The feeling made you whine into Atsushi’s ear, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Does it feel good?”

You didn’t respond, just grabbing Atsushi’s hair to hold him in your neck.

“Well?”

“Mhm..s-so good, ‘Tsu.”

Atsushi grinned, gripping your hips tighter while sliding down your thigh and onto your knee for easier access. You brought your hand down to rub small circles on your clit, and Atsushi throbbed when he looked down and saw the sight. You looked so desperate. So desperate to cum. The stimulation to your clit made you tighten around him, and he moaned slightly at the feeling.

“F-fuck..trying so hard to keep quiet right now..!”

With everything going on, you could feel yourself getting close. It was so much. So much was going on, you could feel your body heating up and trembling. The beads of sweat forming on your forehead were making you look even more delectable in Atsushi’s eyes and he could see that you were close too from your heavy breathing and trembling thighs. You clamped your leg that was suspended in the air around Atsushi’s waist, and Atsushi held it there. Keeping it in place.

He kept at the same speed, although the vigor in his movements was going up. He was struggling to hold your hips in place, but he had to. He couldn’t let your hips hit the wall.

You moaned maybe a little too loud as your orgasm reached its peak, then you slumped back against the wall as gently as you could. You tried to catch your breath for a few moments, but Atsushi didn’t give you a break. He kept going in a desperate attempt to come, before he finally reached his peak as well. He came inside of you, letting your leg down and wrapping his arms around your waist as his legs shook. Atsushi sat there for a few moments, watching as his cum dripped down your thighs and he almost immediately picked up speed again at the sight.

“Hnn—Atsu—too much!”

“Please, just one more..!” Atsushi begged, writhing in your ear. “After this I’ll be done, I promise.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close. You were slowly making your way up the wall, and Atsushi held your hips in place with his own.

He kept going at it, he couldn’t stop even if he tried. He was addicted. Feeling you clench around him desperately and bury your face in his neck drove him crazy. He couldn’t last long, the previous orgasm already building up again.

“Ahh—‘m close again..!” Atsushi blurted out.

You nodded, whining as Atsushi brought his hand down to play with your clit. You were avoiding giving it any stimulation in hopes of avoiding too much overstimulation, but it seems like Atsushi had other ideas.

It honestly wasn’t anything new. Atsushi would always get so desperate from feeling you come around him, and from looking at you shut your eyes tight as you rode out your orgasm. The way your face would change and contort as you reached the peak of your orgasm drove him crazy. This would make it so he could almost never stop after just one round. He had to see all of these different factors on your face as much as he possibly could. Especially because the faces you’d make would only get more intense the more overstimulated you got.

“You can take it, right? You can take me?”

“Mhm!” You whined out, gripping his shoulders tighter and scratching at his skin.

Atsushi nodded, increasing speed and taking your clit between his fingers, watching you squirm. Your thighs started to shake again, and Atsushi gripped one of your thighs to keep it in place.

You mumbled something about being close in Atsushi’s ear, but he hardly processed it. He kept the same speed, barely keeping your hips from banging into the wall with each thrust.

You finally got close, and your thighs tightened around Atsushi’s hips as you tried to stabilize yourself. Atsushi froze for a split second when he felt how tight you were around him, but he didn’t pause for long before he was back at it and he was cumming again with a quiet cry. His hips completely slowed, but he kept rubbing circles on your clit to drive you over the edge.

You finally came undone, your muscles tensing for a few moments before your entire body slouched. You probably could’ve handled more under different circumstances, but the fact you had to remain quiet and you were already exhausted from the long day you had, you had to tap out. It made every orgasm you had even more intense. Not to mention if you stayed up much later you and Atsushi would most certainly regret it in the morning.

Atsushi got the message, slowly pulling out of you, watching as his cum dripped down your thighs yet again. He knew he couldn’t, but he had to resist every urge to kneel down between your thighs and clean you right up. He held you close, walking you backwards and onto the bed. He watched you breathe heavily as you sat down on the bed, catching your breath. He laid down next to you, pulling you close to him as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You did good,” Atsushi mumbled.

You turned over and wrapped your legs around his frame, pressing your face into his neck.

“So did you.”

You and Atsushi laid there for a few minutes, and he heard your breathing get heavier, indicating you had fallen asleep. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he couldn’t sit in this sticky mess for much longer. He shook you gently, and you rustled the sheets slightly before waking up again.

“Ah sorry..it’s just late.” You said.

Atsushi looked over and checked the clock. 12:50. It really was late. He was definitely going to be groggy tomorrow.

Atsushi smiled at you, sitting up as he placed his hand on your back so you could sit up with him. The brief moment where he was sitting up and you were still lying down is where he really noticed how many marks he had left on you. He blushed out of embarrassment when he saw how your neck was littered with love bites.

You didn’t seem to mind though.

You and Atsushi made your way to the shower, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake anyone up. The shower was rather quick, but Atsushi enjoyed every second of it. Once you two were out, you laid down on your bed and wrapped yourself up in all of your blankets, Atsushi laying right next to you.

You two both fell asleep in moments, but not before Atsushi whispered into your ear.

“Goodnight.”

Wc - 3.5k

Atsushi 100% has little fangs because of his special ability

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs #atsushi nakajima x reader smut #nakajima atsushi #atsushi nakajima x reader #bsd atsushi #bungou stray dogs atsushi #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima #atushi nakajima

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books · 9 months

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Writing Workshop Week 1: Show & Tell

Hello, writers of tumblr! It’s @bettsfic again with this week’s generative workshop.

Today we’re doing what might be my favorite class activity: Show & Tell.

You might be thinking, do you teach kindergarten or something? No, I teach college. But my students are often weary, downtrodden 20 year olds who are more than happy to go back to basics. Tumblr—being a website of people who care deeply about things and share that passion with others—seems like a great place to host Show & Tell.

Speaking of basics, let’s first talk a bit about…

The Writing Identity

The goal of many writers is to become better at writing. While I think this is an admirable goal it’s also a complicated one, because good writing is entirely subjective. Everyone has their own definition of what good writing looks like based on their knowledge base, history, and personal tastes. And so I often encourage my students, before they begin their journey of becoming a better writer, to step back and ask themselves, “What does good writing look like to me?”

And that’s the thing: you can’t really become a better writer. You can become a more patient writer, with the ability to write and revise multiple drafts of a work. You can become a more ambitious writer, with the ability to write longer stories and deeper themes. You can become a more detailed writer, with the ability to render images and the small details of living that maybe other people don’t notice. Writing is a skill that requires practice, but it also requires joy. You have to enjoy the work more than you fear the potential for failure. And to enjoy the work, you need to honor yourself, your interests, and your ideals. In other words, to become a better writer, you have to become more you.

I remember when I first started writing, I frantically sought out writing advice. I clung to simple adages and rules: active verbs are stronger than passive verbs; remove words like “think” and “realize” and other indicators of your characters’ interior experiences; take out adjectives and adverbs. If you were to adhere to all this advice, your writing wouldn’t become stronger, it would become colder. You would write like Hemingway. There’s nothing wrong with Hemingway, but Hemingway already did Hemingway, and that means you’re free not to be Hemingway.

Don’t we read to feel closer to people, to experience that which we couldn’t otherwise experience? The beautiful thing about prose is that it’s the only medium that conveys consciousness, because language is the way we contain our thoughts, and writing them down offers others the chance to understand them. E.M. Forster in his book Aspects of the Novel says that the only difference between a character and a person is that a character’s secret inner life can be known, but a person’s can only be understood in observed behavior. Novels are stories of consciousness; biographies are stories of deeds.

In my early days as a writer, those inane adages of “good writing” began to weigh on me, and I found myself frequently opening a blank document and telling myself, “I’m just going to write something for fun, for me, and so I don’t have to follow any rules.” Every time, that lawless thing I wrote would become better than anything I’d written when I followed the rules. And in this case, “better” means I was proud of it; in writing as close to myself as I could, I was able to help my technical skill reach the level of my personal taste.

Good writing advice doesn’t spout shallow adages of what should be, it tells you all the things that could be; it opens your mind to possibilities and techniques. “Should” restrains creativity; the entire point of writing is to be creative. To be creative means to make something that has never existed before. And so one of the first things I tell my students is: You already know everything you need to know about your own writing. You already have good and important stories in you. You just have to sit down and write them.

“Show, Don’t Tell”

One such adage that still really gets to me is “show, don’t tell,” which a lot of writers believe. Many people take it to mean that you should describe the exterior circumstances of your narrator in order to allow the reader to interpret meaning. Instead of describing how your narrator feels, these people would rather have you describe their facial expression. But if you’re so interested in rendering the exterior rather than the interior, you’re better off becoming a director.

Others take it less literally: you show your story instead of tell your story, which, sure, is a valid personal belief for your own work but it’s ambiguous and impractical, and also denies the nature of people to tell stories. Fairy tales and fables are stories that are told. Telling stories came long before showing them.

In some ways, “show, don’t tell,” can be useful. If you spend a thousand words of character A lovingly and carefully describing every detail of character B, you don’t then need to say something like, “She was pining for him,” because you’ve allowed your description to do that work for you. So no, you don’t need to say it, but maybe you want to. Maybe you want to make it inarguable that character A is pining for character B; you don’t want a reader to say, “I think she’s paying that much attention because she wants to kill him and she’s looking for his weak points.”

And so that’s what it comes down to—choice. Ultimately, writing is about making decisions, and those decisions are stronger when you understand all your options.

Behind the adage is a more difficult truth to swallow: prose is both infinite in its potential and also frustratingly limited, because you have no control over your audience. You can lovingly describe every snowflake that falls in a blizzard, and your reader will be taking their own meaning from it—for people who can mentally visualize things, it’s the images their mind conjures; for those who can’t, it’s a mass of facts. And there are also those who are sleepy and missing details, or who are skimming to get to the bits they’re most interested in, or who accidentally dropped their book in the bath and now the bottom half of every page is warped and unreadable.

Or you can say, “It snowed.”

No matter what your beliefs are on “show, don’t tell,” the truth is that it’s a false dichotomy. The very nature of prose is to navigate this divide. Some stories call for more showing, for example when your narrator is at a distance, when we don’t have much access to their thoughts or feelings. Other stories will ask you to tell, especially if we’re deep in your narrator’s head and they’re giving us everything. Showing lends itself to setting, imagery, and plot. Telling lends itself to character, voice, and style. One is not inherently better than the other, in the same way that a screwdriver isn’t better than a hammer—the tool you use depends on the task at hand.

Any time you encounter a trite rule in writing, it’s usually pointing to something much greater and more fun to think about. In this case, showing and telling are two integral tools in meaning-making. For this week’s activity, we’re going to use both show and tell to make meaning.

Prompt time!

In Donald Barthelme's essay “Not-Knowing,” he calls objects magical. “What is magical about the object is that it at once invites and resists interpretation. Its artistic worth is measurable by the degree to which it remains, after interpretation, vital.”

So what does that mean? Although this essay is a hot mess (lovingly), part of its intended work is to be a mess. In fact Barthelme describes the mess of his desk and allows it to define him. It’s covered in coffee cups, cigarette ash, unpaid bills, and unwritten novels. In reality, those objects are just objects, but when rendered in prose, they give us an impression of this particular world and the character within it. The writer renders; the reader interprets. The things we own, that mean something to us, are also things that can define us. Who is the person who carries a leather wallet embossed with their initials, with the inside holding credit cards and a stack of neat bills? Who is the person who carries a canvas wallet with a faded Punisher logo on it, attached to a chain, and the only thing inside it is a Subway rewards card?

Objects are important. Especially in this world we live in where so many things have become virtual, tangibility will always be integral to us. We are a species that reaches out and touches. We like to hold things in our hands. We love things which cannot love us back.

For this week’s prompt fill, I want you to find a magical object for Show & Tell. Ideally, it’s something with a long personal history that’s important to you. Maybe it’s the object you would save in the event of a fire, or maybe it’s something you lost long ago.

First, I’d like you to show us the object by describing it. Then, tell us the story of it.

You can write about how you acquired it and the memories it conjures. Allow yourself to link and associate memories and feelings. Don’t box yourself in too much—just see where it takes you.

But you can also put a spin on it. Here are some ways you can do that:

If you want to try fiction, you can write the same story about your favorite character’s beloved object, or you could completely make up an object and its history.

If you want to try something experimental, you can write a story from the perspective of the object, and maybe its beloved thing is you.

If you want to try poetry, write a poem of your object. This is a separate lesson, but T.S. Eliot’s concept of an objective correlative may be illuminating to consider.

The purpose of this activity is to dig through your memories and/or observations, connect them, and use something external to conjure meaning from them. You begin with what your object is and it will eventually lead you to what it means.

Questions? Ask ‘em here before EOD Tuesday so @bettsfic can answer them on Wednesday. And remember to tag your work #tumblr writing workshop with betts if you want her to read your work and possibly feature it on Friday!

And, for those just joining us: @bettsfic is running a writing workshop on @books this month. Want to know more? Start here.

#tumblr writing workshop with betts #writers’ room #writeblr #writing advice #show and tell #long post #long text post

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chaifootsteps · 17 days

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putting aside the way HB continually lies to its audience and spreads no good very bad ideas about what abuse and sexual coercion is or isn't to a fanbase that skews disturbingly young for a sec

from a creative writing perspective, Stolas is like one of the most frustrating characters to have ever been

like, there's three or four different versions of him at this point. he was a competent antagonistic force once. he had hidden depths.

now he's a pathetic passive whiny creature who is somehow a prince despite doing most of his duties poorly. he has the interior mental landscape of a child. he stakes his happiness on a lower class man who he's trapped with him through his economic need, and he blames that man for his own inability to handle his feelings like an adult.

he wears a godawful romper (sorry, I just can't get past the outfit redesign. it's so distractingly bad)

it just really strikes me watching episodes like The Circus when he as literal imp servants from childhood, or Western Energy when he goes to a cafe where the whole gimmick is imps pouring tea for bluebloods, that like

there could have been a character here, if the show just acknowledged the power Stolas had been born into and is so used to he doesn't even seem to notice that his monthly hookup is the same class as servants he's used and abused his entire life

if the show recognized what a sad wet cat Stolas is, and not in the 'feel sorry for him!!!' type of way

instead we're getting increasingly liberal lectures on 'royalty have feelings just like everyone else, they can't help being rich :(' and all the setup - the mirroring of Blitzo being sold as a child then as an adult to Stolas, the class difference, the rich pitting poor against poor - all goes down the drain, because the show can't bear to have us judge Stolas even slightly

and on top of all that, he isn't even good at wielding the power and privilege he does have. he apparently only bothers using his book once a month for his job, he doesn't memorize his spells, he doesn't teach his oh so important heir magic to defend herself with, he lends out his grimoire with no safety precautions as long as he can be dicked down once a month

funniest thing is if you point out Stolas sucks at his job on top of all his other flaws you'd probably get the 'they're in Hell!' excuse

if that's the case why does the show keep insisting he's perfect? why isn't there more of an Always Sunny sense that we're supposed to enjoy the characters sucking at everything? I maybe could have liked a show like that

There isn't even all that much I can say to add to this...you took the words right out of my mouth, every single one.

#Anonymous #stolitz critical #stolas critical #helluva boss critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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lovestaysblogs · 3 months

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another cinderella story

pairing: college au!jeongin x reader word count: 2121 genre: college au, fluff warnings: none network: @skzstarnet

Jeongin frowned at his friend’s bad joke. To be fair it was finals week. They had to find some humor somewhere because if they didn’t laugh, they would most definitely cry. He reached over to flick Jisung’s forehead,

“Go back to studying,” He deadpanned.

Jisung rubbed his forehead with a pout. “I’m trying, bro”. He groaned, “I don’t know why the hell I took this class in the first place.”

Jeongin chuckled, “It’s a required class Sung, you didn’t have a choice,”

“I know, I know but I’m a –”

“Creative writing major” They said in unison.

“We all know. You say it all the time,” Jeongin groaned and leaned back. “It’s college math bro, we all have to do it whether we like it or not,”

It was currently nearing dinner time and they both have been cooped up in the library from the day has started and they have yet barely reached anywhere.

“I give up. I don’t know why I even attempted to study,” Jeongin placed his head on his hands. “And I’m hungry,”

“We need to pass the class,” Jisung said trying to convince himself, “And I do not want to go through this hell again,”

Jeongin looked around, the library was full of tired and stressed out students. “If we leave and come back we’re probably not going to get our spot back.”

“Or, I could leave and you watch our spot?” Jisung looked over at him with a sly smile. “I could bring you back a coffee, please! Innie-ah please!”

Jeongin sighed, running his hand through his hair, “Fine, just go. You need it more than me anyways.”

Jisung barely took notice of his comment before packing up and leaving immediately. “I’ll find the best coffee on campus I promise!”

Jeongin would describe himself as an okay student. The university he attends now wasn’t his first pick. In fact, it’s more quaint than the others. But seeing that he still hasn’t declared a major, he can’t really be too judgy.

He looked down at the foreign formulas in his book. Studying was not something that was on his mind at the moment. So with the lack of motivation and food in his stomach, he starts to scroll on his phone, praying that Jisung comes back soon.

The table he was sitting at shifted. He looked beside him to see a girl unpacking her books, basically setting up camp for studying beside him.

“Hi, uh that’s someone’s seat,” Jeongin said.

She turned to him and he noticed how put together she looked. Her twists pulled into a neat bun, wearing a sweater vest and dress pants paired off with the cliche black glasses frame. She was also wearing a mask but the way she frowned at him with her eyes in despair, when he told her she was in Jisung’s seat, tugged at his heart strings. He could tell she was a nerd, but at least, she was a cute nerd.

“Really? Oh no, the exam is tomorrow and my laptop is dying and this was the only open spot with an outlet right next to it.” Her soft voice brought back some life into Jeongin.

He suddenly felt re-energized. And who was he to turn down a study partner, especially one with such pretty brown eyes.

“Well, I’m sure he’s not coming back for now.”

That was the half-truth, Jeongin prayed that Jisung wouldn’t come back for now.

“You can stay here until he’s back,”

The bright eye smile you gave him as you pushed your glasses up, made him smile as well.

“Thank you so much!”

“No problem.”

After a shared silence, he glanced over to see you clicking away on your calculator. Your brows were knitted together as you punched in numbers and quickly wrote down answers, softly mumbling to yourself.

“Is that college math?” He asked.

“Yeah, the exam is tomorrow and I’m so nervous,” You barely even glanced at him.

But he smiled again. “Yeah, I have it too. But you seem to know what you’re doing. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

You paused what you were doing and looked up at him. He felt the gratefulness from your eyes.

“Thank you. But I don’t. And it’s no thanks to Professor Cho,”

“Wait, we're in the same class?”

“Yeah, we are”

“How come I haven’t seen you before?”

You looked back down at your notebook, and pressed your lips together, “Oh, you probably just didn’t take notice,” You said softly.

He scratched the back of head, feeling embarrassed. “Well I should have. I can’t believe I’m only getting to know I had such a pretty and smart classmate all along.”

You laughed softly through your mask, “I’m wearing a mask, you can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to when I know how gorgeous your eyes are already,”

There’s a certain warmth from you that’s pulling you towards him and he wants to find out more.

You rolled your eyes, hoping the mask hid your smile beneath it, but Jeongin saw straight through it. Before he even got a chance to comment you changed the topic,

“How do you think you’re going to do on the exam?”

His shoulders slouched, “Honestly,” He chuckled, “It’s in God’s hands at this point,”

Your head fell back slightly as you laughed at him. It was to the point of people starting to shush you. You covered your mouth, trying to soften your laughter, even though you already had on the mask.

He liked that he made you laugh.

“It can’t be that bad?” You tried to offer little hope, before shaking your head, “No, it’s that bad. Professor Cho did nothing but yell all semester,”

“Or complain about –”

“No one wants to work these days,” You both said simultaneously.

You giggled looking over at him. His jet black hair slightly ruffled, most likely due to stressfully running his hand through it. His dimples really shine through, even when he barely laughs. His eyes glanced over at you and you both made eye contact.

“You’ll do fine though,” You said softly. “I see you and your friend in class and you always have the long ass worksheets he sets for us done,”

“You saw that?” His eyes widened, “Damn, how come I’ve never seen you before?”

He truly cannot believe that you two have not crossed paths before. He was almost mad at himself for not taking notice of you. It’s amazing how in such a short time, he managed to feel so comfortable with a complete stranger. He really wanted to get to know you more. He can’t imagine how much more beautiful you were unmasked.

You laughed, “Maybe it’s the mask. You just didn’t notice me”

But his eyes narrowed at you, “Maybe it is,”

His hand slowly reached out towards your face, “Can I?”

You nodded.

As his hand gently touched the face covering, you both jumped apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Jeongin looked up to see Jisung and cursed in his head. Of course he picked the worst possible time to come back.

“Uh hey, that’s kinda my seat,”

And apparently Jisung was set on cockblocking him too.

“Oh! Sorry, yeah. My laptop’s done charging anyways.” You said quickly packing up your stuff.

“I’ll see you around Yang Jeongin,” You said, “Good luck,”

Jeongin looked at Jisung out of the corner of his eyes. “You couldn’t stay away for five more minutes,”

“Bro, I don’t know why you’re attacking me. You’re the one that gave up my seat to a random girl. Why were y’all so close anyways? Do we know her?” He said handing the coffee over to Joengin.

Jeongin rolled his eyes as he took a sip, “No. But she knows me. And I was getting to know her.” He sighed leaning back into his chair, “The only good thing to happen to me tonight was her and I didn’t even get her name bro,”

Jisung shrugged, “She left her calculator here though,”

Jeongin sat straight back up, “Wait what,”

He grabbed the calculator and examined it, realizing there’s no name on it. Instinctively he stood and rushed out of the library, but he didn’t see you around.

“Damn it, the exam is tomorrow and she doesn’t have a calculator,” He mumbled to himself.

Dejectedly walking back into the library, he saw Jisung packing up.

“Did you find her?”

Jeongin shook his head.

“Maybe you’ll find her tomorrow man. But let’s call it a night because I have a feeling we’re not getting anything else done tonight.”

He shook his head again, “Nah, you go ahead. I wanna stay back,”

Jisung shrugged and left him behind.

The sun was blaring down on Jeongin at the exam center. He woke up early and went there just so he could see the girl with the mask again, in hopes of giving her the calculator before the exam.

It was now five minutes before the exam and still no sign of her. He looked down at the pink calculator with a frown. Before one last hopeful look he turned around with a sigh about to enter the room.

“Yang Jeongin!”

A girl screamed running towards him. As she got closer Jeongin realized it was her.

She came to a halt breathing heavily, “You have my calculator? Please tell me that you do?”

Her pretty brown eyes furrowed once again, reminding him of their first encounter. Her twists were no longer neatly pulled back but a bit more messy resting her on shoulders. Yet, wearing just a simple t-shirt with sweatpants he still found her beautiful. His eyes scanned the features of her face, the mask so rudely covered. Her full lips fixed into a frown and her round cheeks added to her cuteness.

“I do. When I realized you left it, I ran out after you but you were gone.”

“God, I’m so stupid. I didn’t realize I left it until I reached back to my dorm and I had to study using my phone calculator. If you know anything about phone calculators and how inconvenient they are, you can imagine how stressed I was. Not to mention I thought it was gone for good and calculators are so damn expensive nowadays and I got that ages ago and –” Your hands flew up to her face in despair as her breathing got worse.

He gently reached out to your hand and placed your calculator in it. “Breathe.”

And so she did.

Their eyes locked together once again as Jeongin smiled at you, “I’m sure you studied well and you’ll do well. Now let’s go so we never have to go through Professor Cho again,”

You laughed. He really liked that he could make you laugh. “You’re right,”

When Jeongin left the exam room, he saw you outside waiting for him.

“So how was it?” You asked with a smile.

He shrugged, “It was okay. But I think it’s because I saw you again as to why,”

You laughed and shoved him slightly, “You play too much,”

“How was it for you?” He said.

“It was good. Thanks again for bringing my calculator,”

“Of course. I had to find you again,”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know you,”

You looked down, suddenly feeling insecurities rise upon you. Why would he want to get to know you?

“I forgot to wear my mask today,”

“So?”

“I…I was just saying that’s why I look different. You’re probably not really interested. It was probably the illusion of the mask,”

He placed a finger under your chin, raising your face up, forcing you to take eye contact with him. “I mean what I say, I want to get to know you. And without the mask, I think you’re beautiful the same,”

You felt your face warm up and if you were a bit lighter, you’re sure you would have been caught blushing.

“Let me take you out,” He said boldly. “After finals. It’ll be worth your time I promise,”

“You don’t even know my name,”

He used his other hand and tucked a twist behind your ear, “What’s your name pretty?”

“Y/N. My name is Y/N,” You said with a soft smile.

He smiled at you back. Your name was beautiful as you were. “Would you go on a date with me Y/N?”

“Yeah, I would,” You said with a giggle.

“You know, I’m actually really glad you left your calculator,”

You gasped and hit him playfully, “You play too much,”

He laughed as he gently took your hand and walked with you. He knew that you were glad too, you just didn’t want to admit it as yet.

a/n:

reblogs help other people see my fics and it lets me know that you liked it that much to reblog 🥹🫶 so please reblog! i appreciate it.

omg this is the longest fic i've written! i hope you enjoy it T.T please please let me know.

i take feedback and criticisms as long as you're nice. i tried to play with the point of view here. if you notice it hopped between third person omniscient and second person. i tried my best to switch it when it was appropriate. let me know if it was good or not. also!! i'm trying my best to not write the same character (both the boys and y/n) in each fic. i really want to diversify it and really make them feel real and raw. with each post is me practicing so i'm really trying my best here. i hope to get better :')

#skz fics #i.n fics #i.n #jeongin fics #jeongin #i.n x reader #i.n x y/n #i.n x you #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #i.n fluff #jeongin fluff #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you #jeongin x y/n #skzstarnet #z writes

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mushroom-snake-coding · 11 days

Text

Does anyone ever wonder if Sophie had a friend in the human world? It never mentions anyone in the books… but I wrote something where she would meet a human friend.

The Human Friend: First Day At School

Part 1

(So, I got an idea and wanted to write something about KOTLC that is a bit like fan fiction (I think that’s the word I am supposed to use). It’s kind of stupid, but I wanted to write something instead of endlessly scrolling, to get some creative dopamine or whatever.

PLEASE NOTE: I am not the best at writing and I sometimes have trouble keeping flow and stuff. Also, I may not be the most accurate because the events of which this takes place is before I was born or when I was a toddler, so I don’t have first hand experiences. It probably won’t be perfect, but I just wanted to write something so keep scrolling if you are bored. Another thing, the new character’s name is my nickname on this site. It just made more sense to me because the new character will have a bunch of my characteristics and honestly is just me, just in KOTLC.)

It was “ugh” day at school. Even though she was the first day in, Sophie despised every second of it. Most of the students already hated her, giving her weird looks. Being the famous child prodigy, wasn’t all it was cut out to be. Even worse, though, was all the noisy thoughts she heard around her. The burden she felt since she was five, she could never escape.

Sophie’s first class was AP Environmental Science. Her counselor practically forced her into an advanced placement class, last year, because of her high grades and “brilliant mind.” But all this seemed to do was make her stand out more. She noticed the glances and whispers from the people around her, which was just fantastic.

Their teacher, Ms. Cobbler, was already planning something torturous… partner work. Usually, Sophie would avoid that and just do the task herself. However, when they everyone grouped into partners, Ms. Cobbler said the words that made her insides shrink.

“Anyone without a partner, please stand up.” Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown out the urge to pluck out her eyelashes (something she frequently did while nervous) and stood up, dying internally. Sophie felt her stomach squirm as she felt the stares around her.

Similarly, there was another girl at the front of the class, who was having the same sickening feeling. Though, her thoughts were a bit different. Instead of an internal voice saying Look at them all staring at you, like a freak, like Sophie’s, the girl’s mind immediately went to mental pictures of the rest of the students whispering and gossiping about anything that could be wrong with her: her clothes, her hair, her acne, her nose, and more insecurities.

“Great, that works out perfectly. You two, group together,” Ms. Cobbler’s voice rang out, bringing Sophie out of the girl’s thoughts. The girl brought her stuff over to the empty desk next to Sophie.

The girl looked of Indian descent: her warm medium-brown skin; her black wavy hair; her dark brown, almost black, eyes; and her long lashes giving it away. She seemed like a sophomore. The girl’s more personal features included slightly frizzy hair, chapped lips, little acne here and there, some headphones around her neck, and an Iron Man themed beaded bracelet.

“Now this will be your partner for the first quarter. It is crucial in science and discussion, that we learn to work together. Our first activity will be getting to know each other. Your first assignment will be an easy 100: get to know each other.”

The class erupted into conversation. The new louder thoughts gave Sophie a headache. Oddly, the girl seemed to also hate it. Her mind erupted in images of just putting her headphones over her ears and listening to some songs on her pink Mp3 player. Although, that followed with a mental image of the teacher yelling at her, so she decided against it.

“So… what’s your name?” the girl asked.

“I’m Sophie Foster.”

“Cool, cool, I’m Pri” the girl responded.

There was an awkward silence between them. Pri’s mind tried going to where she heard that name before. Eventually, her mind went to some conversation she overheard about an eleven-year old in high school. Sophie mentally prepared herself. This was usually the moment people loathe her, and Pri did…

Wow, she must be so lucky. Pri’s mind thought, in a bitter mental voice. But then her mind then flooded with her own experiences. She got higher grades, but she could never really socialize. And Sophie is with high-schoolers as an eleven-year old. Damn, that must be hard.

Pri’s earlier thoughts of her insecurities faded. Why would an eleven-year old talk badly about her to anyone? Sophie didn’t really know how to feel about that. It is annoying that she is treated differently because of her age, but this girl seems more comfortable because of it. That’s a first.

Suddenly Pri interrupts the silence between them.

“So, what is like to be an eleven year old in high school?”

Sophie never really got this question before, mainly since no one talks to her, but she immediately assumed Pri was just making small talk, so she used the default.

“It’s good.”

But Pri pressed on, actually curious.

“Are you sure? I was placed in a higher math last year, and if anyone found out I was a freshman, they acted weird. I’d imagine that’s like six times the amount for you.”

Sophie never knew of someone who actually cared about stuff like that. It felt like something clicked, and almost instantly, Sophie told Pri all about how skipping grades really impacted her.

“Not really, it was tough. People always felt jealous of me. And me being younger, there’s like a separation between me and the other students. It’s like they think I’m a baby or something.”

Pri’s thoughts flashed to something like Finally, someone gets it. She remembers how she tried socializing with people her age, even, and they always seemed to treat her condescendingly.

Pri blurts out, “And do all people think you’re so lucky and say you’re so smart, but they treat you the exact opposite?”

“EXACTLY!!!”

Sophie didn’t know how much more spot on Pri could get. Both of them talk about their experiences of how it felt like being outcasted. Pri rambles on about how she feels she can’t fit it with anyone even though she tries her best. Sophie continues and goes on a rant of how stupid some social rules people follow are. Finally, they reach the last five minutes of class. Pri checks the time.

“We’re about to leave. What class do you have next?” she asks.

“PE,” Sophie replied.

“Ah, I have Visual Art 2.” Pri pauses. “So, do you, have anyone to sit with, at lunch?”

“No, not really.” Sophie was embarrassed to admit.

“Well, meet me in the cafeteria, then. You can be with me, if you want.” Pri smiled.

This was a pleasant surprise. Sophie was thrilled and Pri’s thoughts were genuine.

“Yes! Sure. I will.”

———————————————————————

I hope you liked that. Being frankly honest, Pri in this is exactly like me irl. The details were spot on, and so was the conversation. (I also do have a small pink Mp3 player and headphones.) I always related to Sophie in a way, feeling outcasted like this and the overwhelming thoughts was really similar to the overwhelming sounds. I would have loved to befriend her if she were real and in my school.

I might write more because my original plan was to have a few scenes planned out, which are currently fun lil daydreams in my head. But I am studying for some tests rn, and this was mainly the result of a random creative spark. But if I write more, these will be the scenes:

Lunch in the Library (probably Sophie’s pov)

Sleepover: Breaking into on the Nosy Neighbor’s House (Pri’s Pov)

OMG Who is Mr. Teal Eyes? Wait… HOW TF DID THEY DISAPPEAR LIKE THAT (Pri’s pov)

Also again, reminder, THIS IS NOT THE BEST. I KNOW IT. I JUST WANTED TO SHARE MY DAYDREAMS WITH YOU GUYS.

And this is based on the Keeper of the Lost Cities Series by Shannon Messenger if you didn’t already know.

Have a lovely day!!! :)

#kotlc sophie #kotlc #sophie foster #fanfic #the human friend

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rasby · 7 months

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Heeeey I loved your tattos HCs!

Do you have anything about what kind of HS/uni professor they'd be?

Hii! Omgg thank you 😭😭😭 this is really nice

I tried to write this with my limited knowlage of how American schools work (that i picked up from tv shows and cartoons). I'm from the Balkans and our schools are a bit different, so if there's anything inaccurate i apologise!! (Also this is based on highschool bc I'm in highschool)

Asra

• They would teach art

• One of the favourite teachers in the entire school

• None of the assignments they give are what the school board tehnically require, but they encourage creativity

• Also he has no care when it comes to grading so you can come to class with a roll of toilet paper and still get an A

• There is no learning in his class, it's more like an extended break

• I imagine they don't even show up half of the time

• It's a miracle they haven't been fired

• (The miracle is called Nadia)

Nadia

• As a teacher, i think she'd do history or geography

• But overall, she's definetly the principle

• If the school is short staffed, she can definitely multi-task

• As a teacher, she'd be very strict

• No talking, no whispering, no phones...really follows every rule

• And she's a little harsh on the grading too

• But it isn't hard to get a good grade if you listen to her lectures and take notes

• She's also very willing to help and really aims to teach

• If you ask, she'll find the time in her day to go over everything with you

Julian

• The obvious answer is chemistry and/or biology

• But i feel like his classes would be so much more

• He gets really immersed in teaching and he knows how to hold the students attention

• Half the time doesn't even notice the bell

• He's not a strict teacher by any means, but he does want everyone to learn

• When it comes to grading he's very flexible

• If he thinks you understand the subject, he'll give you a good grade even if it's not EXACTLY by the book

• Of course, he's open to helping students with his own subject but if you need help with other subjects, he's willing to help in that department too

• If you wanna get out of a class, just ask him about his day before he starts the lecture. He'll start rambling about random things until the class ends

Portia

• She would teach language and literature

• She's also very liked by the entire school

• Puts her whole soul into teaching

• Like there's no way you're coming out of her class uneducated

• She decorates her classroom and has a LOT of plants

• In fact, she probably takes care of most school plants

• And shows the janitors how to properly take care of them if she can't

• Teams up with Asra for most school projects and decorations

• Her classes are very calming but if she's really passionate about a certain subject, be prepared

• Will also ramble before class and talk to the students, but she's more focused then her brother

• Spends her breaks in the library or with the lunch ladies

• Also the type of teacher to bring snacks every day into the teachers lounge

• Honestly, everyone likes her

Muriel

• I'll be honest, I've been wracking my brain about this for so long but i cannot for the life of me see him as a teacher

• In pre school, maybe

• But with high-schoolers? No...

• I do see him as a janitor, however

• He'd be perfect for the job

• The kids wouldn't want to mess with him because he seems mean and scary

• (And because Asra can also be mean and scary)

• He's very fast and only focuses on doing his work as fast as he can

• He's tall, he's strong...you get my point

• He would definitely bring Asra lunch every break and they would sit and chat in his classroom or the Janitors closet (they don't mind the small space)

• Eventually, Asra introduces him to other teachers and they all become friends and welcome him into the teachers lounge

Lucio

• He's a PE teacher

• If you're in his class all i have to say is....good luck

• Most students skip his class

• EVERY class

• He will work you TO THE BONE

• He doesn't understand that high-schoolers can't compare to his professionally trained self and expects everyone to meet him at his level

• For a PASSING grade

• If you want a GOOD grade you'll have to impress him

• And before you think he should've been fired, that isn't possible

• HE'S FUNDING THE SCHOOL

• Nadia is aware of his..."teachings" but she can't do much about it

• With him gone, half the school goes too!

• Eventually everyone tells him to calm down and he does

• (But he's really passive agressive about it)

• The students forgive him cause he's hot

As always, if anyone wants to add on, please feel free!

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takearisk-xo · 9 months

Text

written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3 <3 day 2: fearless

Ginny should not have taken divination.

The regret had blossomed steadily over the few short weeks since term started. Firstly, their classroom at the top of the North Tower was hot. And stifling. And class always took place right after lunch. Which just left Ginny longing for a nap.

Secondly, she was the only third year Gryffindor in the class. Her housemates apparently preferred electives in Arithmancy or Muggle Studies over the art of the Unfogging the Future. But no one had bothered to tell her.

Thirdly, because she hadn't immediately had a familiar face to sit with, she'd chosen to share a table with Luna Lovegood. Ginny knew Luna lived near the same village as the Burrow, and their parents seemed on friendly enough terms, even if they didn't socialize, but that soon turned out to be a mistake. Because Luna was passionate about Divination. This left Ginny forced to listen to odd predictions about conspiracy theories and cryptids she'd never heard of. Which brought Professor Trelawney over to their workstation, often. Trelawney seemed to thrive on the weird and dramatic, which Luna supplied in droves.

Ginny was well on her way to thinking they were both utter quacks.

And lastly, because all Divination turned out to be was destiny, and fate, and grand design. Ginny was sick to death of feeling called to a higher purpose, like she was meant for something...

Or someone.

This year was supposed to be different. Ginny had turned over a new leaf. She was starting fresh. And she was finished daydreaming about getting kissed in the rain. She wasn't supposed to be feeding her yearning with more nonsense about predetermination and things written in the stars. All of that was just girlhood fantasy.

Except Ginny's stupid tea leaves, and her stupid text book, and her stupid partner, and her stupid sodding professor kept predicting 'a great but tragic love' in her future.

It was not helping her aforementioned resolve to put her past foolishness behind her.

"This is interesting," Luna lilted from across the table and tipped Ginny's cup back and forth as she examined it intently. Ginny prepared for a comment that would decidedly not be interesting. "It could be a triangle, meaning a creative spirit, but if I flip it over, it looks more like a bouquet. A grand gesture."

Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead focused on the dregs at the bottom of Luna's cup.

"It could be both, I suppose," Luna continued, oblivious to Ginny's disdain. "A combination of the two? Perhaps, you are giving the grand gesture instead of receiving..."

When Ginny didn't answer, Luna began taking notes on her parchment but still continued to speak absentmindedly.

"Do you enjoy things like drawing or music?"

"No," Ginny grumbled, only half paying attention.

Luna hummed, clearly puzzled. "I do think it would be a very nice thing to give a gift like that. To feel that deeply for someone. After all, that's why poets write their poems..."

Ginny froze, her vision blurring slightly around the edges. Unfortunately, Luna noticed.

"Oh," she sighed. "Have you written something?"

"No," Ginny replied forcefully and her face heated.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Luna reassured. "If there are others vying for your love's attention, this will set you apart.”

Ginny clapped her hands over her face and swore under her breath. She determined right then and there that sending that singing Valentine was, without a doubt, the single most mortifying thing she'd ever done.

Luna indicated a brown lump near the perimeter. "And look here, the daffodil, your affections are requited. Your gift will be cherished!"

"Can we talk about something other than my affections, please?"

Luna watched her unblinkingly, but seemed to understand Ginny had reached her wit's end.

"You have something that looks like clasped hands," Ginny started, doing her best to sound business-like. "But it also looks a bit like the number eight, so I can't be sure."

Luna flipped through a few pages of her text book, and paused about halfway down the page. "Friends?"

Ginny shrugged, and immediately felt a deep-rooted ache at the eagerness taking over Luna's expression.

Eyes widening in unmitigated hope, Luna smiled. "I've never had a friend before."

Mouth going dry, Ginny swallowed down the mix of uncomfortableness and pity that Luna often spurred. She shrugged again. "There's also something that looks like a pig snout, and that's not even in the book, so what do I know?"

Luna's smile stretched into a grin. "That's not a pig snout, that's a Blibbering Humdinger!"

Ginny snorted, but she didn’t bother asking what a Blibbering Humdinger was. She'd save that for Professor Trelawney.

#hinny #severalsunlitdaylights #several sunlit daylights #my fic #corneliaavenue

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bsdndprplplld · 1 year

Text

tips for studying math

I thought I could share what I learned about studying math so far. it will be very subjective with no scientific sources, pure personal experience, hence one shouldn't expect all of this to work, I merely hope to give some ideas

1. note taking

some time ago I stopped caring about making my notes pretty and it was a great decision – they are supposed to be useful. moreover, I try to write as little as possible. this way my notes contain only crucial information and I might actually use them later because finding things becomes much easier. there is no point in writing down everything, a lot of the time it suffices to know where to find things in the textbook later. also, I noticed that taking notes doesn't actually help me remember, I use it to process information that I'm reading, and if I write down too many details it becomes very chaotic. when I'm trying to process as much as possible in the spot while reading I'm better at structuring the information. so my suggestion would be to stop caring about the aesthetics and try to write down only what is the most important (such as definitions, statements of theorems, useful facts)

2. active learning

do not write down the proof as is, instead write down general steps and then try to fill in the details. it would be perfect to prove everything from scratch, but that's rarely realistic, especially when the exam is in a few days. breaking the proof down into steps and describing the general idea of each step naturally raises questions such as "why is this part important, what is the goal of this calculation, how to describe this reasoning in one sentence, what are we actually doing here". sometimes it's possible to give the proof purely in words, that's also a good idea. it's also much more engaging and creative than passively writing things down. another thing that makes learning more active is trying to come up with examples for the definitions

3. exercises

many textbooks give exercises between definitions and theorem, doing them right away is generally a good idea, that's another way to make studying more active. I also like to take a look at the exercises at the end of the chapter (if that's the case) once in a while to see which ones I could do with what I already learned and try to do them. sometimes it's really hard to solve problems freshly after studying the theory and that's what worked out examples are for, it helps. mamy textbooks offer solutions of exercises, I like to compare the "official" ones with mine. it's obviously better than reading the solution before solving the problem on my own, but when I'm stuck for a long time I check if my idea for the solution at least makes sense. if it's similar to the solution from the book then I know I should just keep going

4. textbooks and other sources

finding the right book is so important. I don't even want to think about all the time I wasted trying to work with a book that just wasn't it. when I need a textbook for something I google "best textbooks for [topic]" and usually there is already a discussion on MSE where people recommend sources and explain why they think that source is a good one, which also gives the idea of how it's written and what to expect. a lot of professors share their lecture/class notes online, which contain user-friendly explenations, examples, exercises chosen by experienced teachers to do in their class, sometimes you can even find exercises with solutions. using the internet is such an important skill

5. studying for exams

do not study the material in a linear order, instead do it by layers. skim everything to get the general idea of which topics need the most work, which can be skipped, then study by priority. other than that it's usually better to know the sketch of every proof than to know a half of them in great detail and the rest not at all. it's similar when it comes to practice problems, do not spend half of your time on easy stuff that could easily be skipped, it's better to practice a bit of everything than to be an expert in half of the topics and unable to solve easy problems from the rest. if the past papers are available they can be a good tool to take a "mock exam" after studying for some time, it gives an opoortunity to see, again, which topics need the most work

6. examples and counterexamples

there are those theorems with statements that take up half of the page because there are just so many assumptions. finding counterexamples for each assumption usually helps with that. when I have a lot of definitions to learn, thinking of examples for them makes everything more specific therefore easier to remember

7. motivation

and by that I mean motivation of concepts. learning something new is much easier if it's motivated with an interesting example, a question, or application. it's easier to learn something when I know that it will be useful later, it's worth it to try to make things more interesting

8. studying for exams vs studying longterm

oftentimes it is the case that the exam itself requires learning some specific types of problems, which do not really matter in the long run. of course, preparing for exams is important, but keep in mind that what really matters is learning things that will be useful in the future especially when they are relevant to the field of choice. just because "this will not be on the test" doesn't always mean it can be skipped

ok I think that's all I have for now. I hope someone will find these helpful and feel free to share yours

#mathblr #studyblr #math #study tips

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boyfhees · 2 years

Text

⌕ MY LOVE MIX UP | h. iwaizumi

PRECIS. the chances of you confessing to your crush sums to zero when you realise you have to pretend to have a crush on iwaizumi, just to help your friend hide her feelings for him. ( 22.1k )

GENRE. fluff, humour, minor angst

WARNINGS. satirical mentions of dying and killing i'm sorry, one ( 1 ) break up but it isn't even real tbvh, reader is insecure, iwaizumi ( he deserves his own warning ) very cute at some point like you'd want to close the app ig, iwa is too good to be real ( he isn't real ) they're all second years. tatsuya and hayato are some random guys, kyoka is reader's best friend

NOTE. hi 😭 i originally wrote this for another fandom but had iwa in mind all the time so here's to him. ( if you've read the og pls ignore this i am not creative ) oikawa im sorry ( fr this was so hard to write as an oikawa kisser lawl ) happy reading. ps. very slightly inspired from kieta hatsukoi

“hey, pass me your eraser.” you whisper to kyoka, who was busy having her head in hands because of the maths practice question paper lying in front of her.

she deadpans, fetching a spare eraser from her pencil pouch. “you haven’t returned me the pen i lent you, yet,” but when have you ever returned her stuff you borrow, except a few times. she’s your best friend and there’s an unspoken rule that everything that belongs to her is yours, and vice-versa; even though she strongly disagrees.

you expect her to help you either way. call it the payments for all the times she has borrowed mangas and books from you, and never returned. it’s normal, the give and take in your friendship is astronomical. what you don’t expect is for the eraser to have a name written on it and wait— it’s someone from your class? because as far as you remember, the only ‘ih’ you and kyoka are familiar with, is iwaizumi hajime.

a sense of superiority floods your head as your lips curl into a menacing smirk. finally, some good news, and good enough for you to blackmail your best friend for a couple of months, at least. she’s not the type to confess without prior stressful, crying sessions, which takes quite some time. you’re so busy in your thoughts, you don’t notice falling down when iwaizumi turns around, passing you the question paper. moreover, you also fail to notice when iwaizumi picks it up and places it on your desk, until he turns back again with a surprised grimace.

“huh?”

you stare back in confusion. “what?”

“that eraser,” iwaizumi gulps, eyes fluctuating between you and the eraser in your hand, with visible panic evident on his face. “it had my name.”

“no, it doesn’t.” that’s a lie. “you’re mistaken.” he’s not.

no one wants to lie at nine in the morning, right before a practice test, especially to someone who you’ve never talked to in your whole life; unless people are crazy enough to lie pathologically as a passion. you, however, happen to do the same, in hopes he would believe you.

but iwaizumi is sure he saw his name on your eraser. not only his name, but a heart as well. ‘ih ♡’ that’s what it said, and he’s certainly assured that it’s for him.

“i’m not. i’m sure i saw my name,” at this point, none of you care about the practice test. he’s trying to prove his point while your mind is lost amongst the field of excuses, looking for the right one.

“no, you didn’t. you’re mistaken!” gaslighting is definitely not the right excuse but, that’s the best you came up with, in seconds. the look on his face tells you that he isn’t buying your words. you slowly feel the situation grip out of your hand, every second burdening on your shoulders as you hope for iwaizumi to give up and move on like nothing ever happened.

“then, show me the eraser,” iwaizumi demands, eyes fixed on you for a response. he trusts his instincts, he should, he isn’t lying. you don’t know him at all, but you know that if he wants something, he gets it, no matter that. “if i’m mistaken, then show it to me. i’ll check myself.”

and so he does, snatching the eraser from your fist as he looks at you with a knowing gaze. there’s amusement in his eyes, a glint of pink resting on his cheeks, but that’s from the winter cold.

“no way, yn, you like iwaizumi?” that’s tatsuya, and this shouldn’t be happening. you whip your head around, looking at him as he seizes the eraser from iwaizumi’s grip, taking a better look at it. “who would’ve expected?”

no one, exactly. you don’t even know iwaizumi. he’s just a classmate, someone who’s popular in the whole school but not in your eyes. you respect him for his grades and talent, but you’ve never paid him any attention. instead, your mind has always revolved around tatsuya, forever looking at him in a room full of angels, to put it in better words.

“listen, it’s not mine.” yeah, it’s better to not lie; not in front of tatsuya. why is he here in the first place? tatsuya sleeps through his days at school, no matter how important the classes are, and somehow still manages to score good marks. he’s a miracle, a work of art, epitome of intelligence and beauty, a true angel. your heart overflows with love for him.

“who does it belong to?” iwaizumi counters, and you don’t want to answer. honestly, you could do way better if tatsuya left but like a curious cat, his eyes hover over you for a response.

“it’s—” a pause. you can’t possibly disclose your friend’s feelings, that’d be unfair to her. and you, well, you have no option but to lie and save yourself a good friendship. “mine.”

you don’t look at iwaizumi’s face. you simply don’t have the courage to do that. so, you get to the practice question paper lying on your desk, reading through algebraic equations while your brain is enmeshed between maths, your friend, and the person you’re pretending to have a crush on; all in the presence of your actual crush.

you’re pretty sure you bombed the test royally.

there’s no way you’d score in double digits, for your brain was ( and still is ) busy distressing over the two biggest problems of your life. first, the boy you never talked to in the two years you spent as a highschool student, believes you have a crush on him; and second, your actual crush also believes you have a crush on iwaizumi.

great, things couldn’t have been any better. moreso, out of all the people, it’s iwaizumi. you don’t hate him; god, you don’t think you can ever. he’s too nice, almost as a saint. probably the nicest person you’ve met till. he treats every girl he rejects, as an ‘apology’. which may be a good thing since he doesn’t seem to like you, so it’s a free treat for you, but that’s besides the point.

he’s so nice, you feel bad for lying to him. confessions may not surprise him anymore but the look in his eyes explained that he took every word you said to his heart. see, that’s the problem with excessively good people. you can’t lie to them, and if you do then the guilt corrupts your head, constantly making you feel bad about yourself.

he’s warm, friendly, enthusiastic, outgoing, easy to please. he’s quick to show appreciation, yet accepts without judgement or criticism, the human weakness of others. that’s iwaizumi to everyone in the school, including teachers and staff.

“hey,” you greet awkwardly, eyeing the students in the hallway to make sure no one is gossiping. mayhaps, you’re overthinking but iwaizumi is pretty popular and you’d rather not get involved with him. “let’s talk.”

now, iwaizumi doesn’t know why he needs to follow you to the terrace. you can talk right here, in class, or near the volleyball gym for the lack of better space. anywhere, but terrace. though, iwaizumi doesn’t refute. he follows you closely, as if you’ve casted a spell on him. iwaizumi doesn’t harbour romantic feelings for you, he’s sure, and had it been someone else, he would’ve already turned them down. no ‘let’s talk,’ and no ‘following them to terrace,’— but you, for some reason, make it harder for him to be his typical self and follow his classic rules.

you shut the door, looking around to check for unwanted presence on the terrace. this is easy, it has to be easy, you have a plan. it’s simple; you’ll tell him that this whole situation is nothing but a massive misunderstanding. you don’t have feelings for him, the ‘ih’ with heart on the eraser is actually izumi hashima— and you don’t know who izumi hashima is but you’re going to lie again, and say she’s your best friend’s older sister who you had taken a liking to as an elementary school student. it sounds perfect in your head, dodging all pits of failure.

“so, about the eraser—”

“i don’t like you,” iwaizumi blurts out, interrupting you in between while you stare at him wide eyed because this was not in the plan. “i mean, i do like you but not in that way. you seem like a good person, we can get to know each other and. . .”

rest all is a blur. you don’t focus on his words, for you’re too busy admiring him, platonically. not only has he got a handsome face and smart, wrinkly brain, but he’s painfully kind. if kindness was a crime, he’d get a death penalty. no wonder, the students in your school treat him like a god, and would make him their new religion at any given moment, if offered the opportunity to. “ah, so this is why it’s so easy to fall for you,”

you can’t believe you just mumbled that out loud; and even if you did, you’d like you believe you didn’t, until you saw his flabbergasted grimace. “it’s not how it sounds!” right, you think he’d believe you after your silly little confession. you sigh, giving up before you make it harder for you to sort this out. “just— forget any of this happened, okay?”

“are you sure?” iwaizumi counters.

“yes, very sure.” infact, you haven’t been sure-er about anything else till date. “and, don’t tell anyone either.”

that’s a peculiar request. well, for someone who gave closures to rejection using meals, iwaizumi doesn’t know what is right in this situation. his plan was to treat you this evening as an apology, but you rather possess a different request. you want him to pretend like this never happened, and iwaizumi wonders if it’s so much easier to discard your feelings. “why do i feel like you’re going to cry when you get home?”

“i won’t, and even i do, that's my problem. just, don’t bring this up ever again,” you didn’t mean to lash out, but frustration gets the best of you, and you don’t want to spend another minute apologising or rather, striking a conversation with him. “if you have nothing more to say, i’ll leave first.”

you simply walk out, without giving him any opportunity to speak. today has been crazy. iwaizumi still hasn’t processed the entirety of the prior events. how did you even fall for him? he knows he has quite an attractive face and a very intricately built physique. however, looks are secondary to interactions, and you’ve never really talked to him until today.

perhaps, it was when he lent you his umbrella, or when he lent you his notes, or when he thanked you for helping him in art class. it has to be one of those because none of you have ever talked besides those three times.

he doesn’t get it, is it easy for people to fall for someone just because of looks? or to put it in your words, is it really easy to fall for him? most importantly, do you not mind disregarding your feelings and asking him to forget it? it’s strange, and while he would eventually end up forgetting it, he doesn’t understand why you’re so . . . unbothered.

iwaizumi has met all sorts of people. the ones who follow him around to get attention, ones who confess and guilt trip when rejected, ones who deliberately throw themselves at him, ones who understand and move on, but you don’t fit any of those categories. you don’t fit his definition of admirers and even though it may seem like he’s overthinking, he’s not. iwaizumi doesn’t know why he cares so much. in fact, you’ve made it easier for him to handle this ordeal. he doesn’t need to spend his money on you to shut your mouth and not talk about anything related to their confession to anyone. ( you see, that’s the reason why no one ever hears a news about iwaizumi being confessed to again, unless someone is brave enough to give a public confession )

he kicks the stray stone lying around on his way back home, hands in his pockets while the thought of you keeps bothering him constantly. he has way too many questions and absolutely no time to waste, however, upon much consideration, a conclusion lands on the palm of his hands — it feels like you’re rejecting iwaizumi, despite being the one to confess first, and god, you don’t know how much that irks him.

“yn, you’ll be late if you spend another minute fixing your hair!” your mother shouts from the kitchen and honestly, that’s the plan: getting late and skipping school. you don’t have a reason, well you do, but it lacks the logical aspects.

the reason— iwaizumi. did he turn you down? yes. did you tell him to forget it? yes. do you trust him? no. despite being one of the nicest guys to ever walk on earth, iwaizumi doesn’t look trustable. you’re afraid he would’ve spread the news to everyone, his friends, your friends, you’re scared so much that you haven’t opened group chats ever since you woke up. besides, there’s tatsuya. he practically lives for drama. tatsuya is a soul of honesty, but unfortunately, he has a sneaky, thievish, sinister look— making it harder for you to trust him entirely.

despite your subtle attempts, your mother ends up kicking you out of the house before you delay even more. for a brief second, you consider skipping school and spending the whole day watching movies or something. you’re down, almost, until you hear a familiar voice chanting your name from a distance.

“you’ve been avoiding me since yesterday,” kyoka pants, hands on your shoulder to prevent you from running away again.

“uh, i have?” you shoot her a crooked smile, trying to think of a convincing excuse. you’ve been so busy amongst your thoughts that you forgot about her. “by the way, your eraser—”

“oh, you saw it, didn’t you?” she mumbles, averting her gaze to a cat passing by as you both enter the school premises. “i like him so much but i’m scared to confess.”

“it’s okay, you have my support,” you should be scared, you want to say. while, that’s not how a supportive friend must react, considering iwaizumi’s history with confessions, everyone should be scared of confessing to him. talking about iwaizumi, you don’t spot him anywhere, which is actually a good thing. maybe he called in sick, or even better, changed schools, even though it makes no sense.

the first class goes just fine and you thank the higher deities for it. unfortunately, or fortunately enough, tatsuya didn’t come to school as well. maybe, both him and iwaizumi met up and shat on you but it’s fine, as long as others don’t know about it. maybe, it’s not as fine as it seems since your eyes are burning to see tatsuya.

god must really be on your side because you haven’t seen iwaizumi all day, and neither have you come across even a speck of gossip about yesterday’s events. his seat remained empty in front of you as you unknowingly spent the whole day thinking about him. perhaps, you’re worried; is he the one crying at home? that’s unlikely. you decide to skip your last class and move to the terrace, enjoying the cold breeze from last night’s showers.

standing here, by the edge of the terrace, makes you feel like a main character; as if you have a perfect life, and a perfect lover, and a perfect future to grasp, it’s premeditated, yet interesting. even though none of it is true, a person can dream. it seems way to perfect until you’re pulled back by a hand around your arm, almost stumbling. before you’re framed against the wall beside you.

“what do you think you’re doing?!” fantastic. suddenly, you don’t want to be the main character anymore because there’s iwaizumi, and you’re standing close to him, very close, so close that you can feel his breath fan over your face. “are you crazy? do you really plan to end your life over something so trivial?!”

you panic because of the close proximity, stomping on his foot as he yells, stepping away from you. “what are you talking about because i don’t plan on dying anytime soon, iwaizumi hajime!”

a pause, everything goes silent. you hear the breeze, you have one of the prettiest boys of your school crouching in front of you because you stepped on his foot deliberately. this seems like the perfect setup for a marriage and a murder, and you’re heavily considering the latter.

“wait you aren’t—”

“no, i’m not dying and why are you even here? i thought you called in sick or something.”

“we had a game. i thought tatsuya told you,” he clarifies, standing up while shooting you a sour look. as for tatsuya, he happens to be the manager for the men’s volleyball team. it’s funny because oikawa picked him over fifteen other girls who applied, all because of two reasons: first, he’s on good terms with tatsuya and second, it’s better to have a guy try to get on your nerves rather than a girl fangirling over the crew. besides, it’s a win for tatsuya too, who does nothing but sleep at school. “i always come to the terrace after a game.”

he adds, and you wonder if it’s a good thing to have in common with him. again, you don’t trust him because you’ve never seen him on the terrace; and you happen to be the official resident of your highschool terrace, so notorious that you’ve also received detention for invading prohibited boundaries.

“i also come here, sometimes,” you mean multiple times, everyday. why you’re here talking with iwaizumi is beyond your comprehension, but for some reason, you’re not against it. it doesn’t feel forced or frustrating. in fact, his presence is rather calm, and you think it’s because he’s tired from his match. “so, did you win?”

“by 3-2, yes. i’m starting to hate metre spikes, though, for some reason.” that sounds awfully familiar. you’re not accustomed with volleyball terminologies, however tatsuya happens to vent to you about the same every now and then. it’s funny for iwaizumi to hate dinks, despite being a spiker himself. besides, you’ve heard a few people talk about how iwaizumi apparently loves metre spikes.

“that’s—” he proceeds to speak, interjected by footsteps approaching the rooftop.

“iwaizumi—” oh, no. you knew things were going too well to be true. “ooh, okay, i’m sorry for interrupting you two love birds but cap’ needs you downstairs, ‘iwa. be quick.” tatsuya has awful timing. he could’ve been the person to think you’re planning to jump and save you but no, he had to arrive much later, right when you and iwaizumi are standing next to each other, looking like decent friends or rather, like ‘love birds’ in tatsuya’s eyes.

he winks at your ‘boyfriend’ and you die a little on the inside. tatsuya is more excited about you and iwaizumi than the two of you. honestly, excited isn’t even the right word for you both. you just want to stay away from him and iwaizumi, well, whatever the hell he has going on with him.

“you should go,” that’s the best you can come up with, to end the conversation. you don’t need him around, that was the original plan. to ignore him, and have him ignore you. you know iwaizumi isn’t responsible for this misunderstanding between you and tatsuya. however, you can’t help but criticise him in the back of your mind.

“yn,” he calls out, though slightly quieter than usual with a hint of hesitation in his voice. “about your confession, i think rejecting you was unfair. so, let’s get to know each other first, and then i’ll give a final response.”

what. just what in the world— okay, you’re calm, you’re trying to be calm. you hear his footsteps fade away as he bids you goodbye with a soft ‘see you around’ and no, you strongly disagree. you don’t want to see him anywhere near you, not when tatsuya is convinced that you’re dating iwaizumi and you’re trying to come up with ways to break the truth to him.

you see, you have abilities to do miracles, like creating more problems for yourself while trying to solve one. it’s funny how you arrived to school delightfully, knowing the two boys who can possibly fuck up your life are absent, only to go back home with a fake ‘boyfriend’ thanks to yourself.

YOU'RE CONSIDERING changing schools, really.

ignoring iwaizumi doesn’t help. he’s too hashtag deep into getting to know you better that he accompanies you almost everywhere. your mornings for the past three days have been commencing with iwaizumi and ending with him as well. moreso, you have people looking at you while you commute through school as if you’re on a red carpet. you wake up and greet your a couple hundred new followers on instagram who have you added in a group called ‘iwaizumi shrine.’ it makes sense. the school's most popular boy, who has never shown interest in anyone, suddenly started talking to you and acting like you’re his top priority. it makes completely, hundred percent sense. you’d be curious too if your favourite celebrity suddenly started hanging out with some random person.

it’s like a revolution and you don’t want to be a part of it.

“tired?” kyoka asks, sitting next to you by the track field. “looks like you’ve gotten busier.”

yeah, you have, and the pain is visible on your face. you want to get back to the days when people paid you no mind and continued with their life. waking up to a bunch of notifications and post-it notes on your locker, asking for iwaizumi’s number or one of his exclusive pictures is draining you out; and surprisingly, you don’t have iwaizumi’s number in the first place. “kyoka, help me,” you whine, leaning onto her shoulders as she shoves you away.

“i’m sure the gossip will die down in a few days,” enjoy the fame while you can, yes. you know she was going to add that too. however, this isn’t fun. as much as you’re enjoying this special treatment from iwaizumi, it feels as if you’re walking on eggshells; like your life resonates between the flight of bumblebee and hall of mountain king as your theme songs.

besides, kyoka likes iwaizumi and you’re practically deceiving her. even though she knows you and iwaizumi as just friends, that’s simply what you wanted her to know. she doesn’t know he’s trying to get to know you better for the sake of a relationship, or that iwaizumi knows about the eraser but he thinks you have a crush on him instead of kyoka.

it’s a mess, and it’s hard trying not to break someone’s heart. she doesn’t know the truth. she doesn’t even know you have a date with iwaizumi after school.

“whatever, are you going to audition for that cinderella play?” oh, right. you forgot about it. you don’t have a picturesque memory either way and iwaizumi is simply making it harder for you to focus on things that are not him. you’re sure kyoka would say something along the lines of ‘you’re down bad,’ if you ever told her about your dilemma, and honestly, you are. you are down bad to escape iwaizumi, get out of his life or just get him out of yours; whichever is faster and easier.

“are you?” you counter as a football rolls near your legs, your eyes following the player following it shortly. it’s iwaizumi, and he— wait, he plays volleyball, so why is he on the field playing in the football team? whatever, it’s none of your business anyway. you pass the ball, a soft thank you slips off his lips as he runs away. a pause, you are getting ideas and maybe, maybe iwaizumi is about to become your business if you put enough effort into it. “do you think iwaizumi will audition for prince charming?”

you see her smirk as he nudges your shoulders. “why, are you planning to be his cinderella?”

“what? ew, no,” okay, maybe the ew was an exaggeration. though, the thought of you being cinderella when he’s prince charming makes you want to puke. “i’m just asking because he’s the most suitable candidate. besides, you can audition for cinderella.”

oh, you feel so smart for coming up with the plan : have them casted, they kiss and fall in love. probably the smartest you’ve ever been. cupid has a competition and it’s you.

“why would i audition for cinderella if—” she pauses, lips curling into a smile as her eyes set on something behind you. kyoka doesn’t waste another moment, proceeding to stand up and pat the dust off her uniform. “senior,”

you feel the air around you shift.

“hope i’m not interrupting something,” she’s quick to shake her head in denial, the smile never leaving her lips while you witness the whole scene from the sidelines. “i was hoping you’d audition for cinderella in the play. no pressure, just that your performance was great in last year’s play,”

“ah, of course, i would. are you audi—”

a frown sets on her face as the supposed ‘senior’s’ phone rings. you feel the air shift, yet again. “i have to answer this. see you in the club room later!”

“see you!” you’re not sure what you saw. kyoka, your friend, the kyoka who’s known for decking people in her first year switched personalities like it was her favourite colour. “turns out, i’m auditioning,”

yeah no, you couldn’t care less about the senior or the personality shift. at least, he made your job a tad bit easier. now, all you need to do is convince iwaizumi.

“do you need something?” iwaizumi asks, grabbing his earphones from the locker. now, how do you explain that you need him to audition for prince charming’s role so that you can set him and your friend up?

“oh, nothing? i was just curious about what you were doing,” and iwaizumi hajime is actually gullible enough to buy that. honestly, your excuse is not baseless, considering how you both are in the ‘talking stage’ of the relationship. “have you heard about the auditions for the cinderella play?”

he nods, closing his locker. “yes, matsukawa is one of the hosts. why do you ask?”

“uhh, i was wondering if you’d like to audition for prince charming?” you could’ve voice it better. you know, more confident, making it sound less like you’re plotting something. you’re in no state to answer any questions, if he ever asks.

he blinks, and then blinks again. a few seconds bask in silence and you’re ready to apologise but iwaizumi beats you to it. “will you audition for cinderella?”

as proven, you’re in no state to answer questions, especially that one. why would you even audition for cinderella? first of all, you can’t act to save your life. second of all, even if you could, you wouldn’t audition when iwaizumi is the most probable candidate for the main lead. “why do you ask?”

“i’ll register if you audition for cinderella,” nah, ain’t no way iwaizumi hajime just did that and walked away like he didn’t just flip your head upside-down. you turn around, watching him waltz through the hallways like king louis xvi or something. at this point, you’re simply resisting the urge to yell at him.

you almost give up. almost.

you’ll get a number of opportunities to set him and kyoka up together, maybe the luck isn’t on your side. moreover, iwaizumi is the only suitable candidate for prince charming in your eyes. there’s no way the theatre club is accepting someone else if a man like him is breathing among the peasants. so, in the end, they will cast him no matter what. yes, you’re right, they will.

but what if they don’t? you hate your mind for holding onto that question and making it your living crisis but truthfully, you have this situation under your control. all you have to do is audition and surprise, iwaizumi’s already casted. besides, you do feel bad for backing off when you can literally save everyone some time and help them for your greater good.

all you have to do is audition, it’s easy, like a cakewalk, taking a lollipop from a kid. maybe not the last one since, kids these days are animalistic ( you’ve heard a few barking on streets ) it’s still easy, very easy.

you can do it.

yes, you can do it.

you have another plan. all you have to do is go to the stage and give the most mind-rotting, heart-stopping, life-ruining audition ever. you have to unleash the unskilled actor inside you, make it look like you can do anything but act. you have to drag the cinderella role around and make it seem like even the one playing as the tree in the backdrop is a better actor than you.

yes, it’ll leave you embarrassed. you’ll actually have to switch schools, probably; but it’s fine, as long as iwaizumi gets the prince charming role.

“alright, next.” one of the club heads announce and surprisingly, the senior from earlier today is present as well. you watch the participant walk up the stage and god, everyone auditioning for cinderella looks drop dead gorgeous. “kim tatsuya, you’re auditioning for cinderella?”

“yes.” he replies.

“why?”

“do you think there’s anyone else who fits the role more than me?” you almost scoffed out loud. the confidence? the charm? the smirk on his face? he fits the role of evil step mother more than cinderella. while waiting for your turn, you search for kyoka, remembering you haven’t seen her in the club room at all. a part of you wonders if she dipped— even though she isn’t like this— you couldn’t help but worry about your whole plan going down the drain.

you excuse yourself out of the club room, halting by the neighbouring classroom when you see a familiar figure sitting by the teacher’s desk. “kyoka?” turns out it’s actually her, and you release the breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding in for a while now. “what’s wrong?”

despite doing everything for your own good, you couldn’t help but worry about her. kyoka is perhaps the most self-righteous person you’ve ever met, in a good way. she’s confident in herself, she knows what she’s capable of and what not. she’s not afraid to try, even if she thinks it’s beyond her limits. so, seeing her all alone like this, it felt just like failing a test of a subject you’ve mastered.

she looks into your eyes, a hint of hesitation settling on her face. “yn, i’m scared. everyone here is so good.” you want to laugh, not the right timing, but you want to.

“no, stop. you’re better. you received the best female lead award last year, you can do it.” you assure, and it’s really funny coming from someone who’s probably the best candidate for cinderella’s role, saying that she’s scared. you wouldn’t say other participants auditioning are unskilled, neither do you know if there’s anyone out there who’s better than her. however, little do you know that your performance is definitely going to make her confidence fall back at her feet for kyoka to pick it up.

“yn, they’re calling you inside.” one of the club members informs you. a sigh spins into the air as you look at your friend, nodding as she shoots you an assuring smile. you can do it. you’re going to give your worst.

“yn— oh, you’re kyoka’s friend!” the club president exclaims as soon as you step in front of perform and ironically, it’s the senior; something hayato, as his jacket says. “i’m looking forward to your performance.”

yeah, no don’t. you don’t want anyone to look forward to anything you’re going to do for the next five minutes or so. this is about your reputation, your dignity, your highschool life, and everything else. and, how you had dreamt of a highschool life like in those movies, peaceful like quilts falling on glistening water; but, after all, movies are just movies. real life is much different, because right now you’re going to embarrass yourself in front of everyone for your best friend and the guy she likes.

“i’ll start,” you shook an awkward smile, a deep breath, it’s now or never. “here . . . kitty kitty kitty kitty . . . c’mon kitty . . .” a pause, your voice dies of shame and regrets. “Lucifer! come here—” that was so loud, you practically see a few people flinch.

“wait, wait,” one of the judges interjects, shuffling through their script. “which scene are you enacting?”

you cock your face to your left, awkwardly. “the opening scene?”

hayato sighs. he’s probably regretting looking forward to your performance. “no no, do that one. the one with the prince, where cinderella runs away.”

you get in stance, clearing your throat for another life-threatening performance. “oh . . . but i must go—”

“stop,” the judges interrupt again and this time, you’re fueling with anger. maybe if they didn’t want you to perform, they shouldn’t have added your name in the first place. “yn, there’s the passion?”

“i’m giving my everything, tatsuya.” what a liar.

“you aren’t giving shit.” tatsuya deadpans, rolling his eyes as you stand with your hands on your hips as if you’ve just served an oscar worthy performance. “you sound dead inside, as if you didn’t want to go to the ball in the first place.” no he’s right, you didn’t want to. you’re the only cinderella in the whole world who wants to avoid the ball and the prince, at all cost. you are, in fact, dead inside.

“alright, let’s try again—”

“no, thank you.” you refuse, or more like, take your time and try your shot at getting out of this place right now. “that’s all i had. i hope i get selected.” funny, very funny. only fools would select someone as talented as you for a play that’s supposed to be streamed live on the school's youtube account.

you rush your way outside the club room, ignoring the giggles and murmurs that followed. it’s fine, you anticipated this and brought this upon yourself. you don’t know why you feel bad, though. maybe because everyone is making fun of you, or perhaps, it’s kyoka and how she’s finally going to get the role; happy tears, for sure. or maybe, it’s because of iwaizumi. maybe you expected him to be there, no matter how ugly and unclassy your performance was. after all, you did it for him. he asked you to audition, and for someone who wants him out of their life, you sure are more upset than you should be.

“i was looking for you,” you look up in the direction of the voice, eyes residing upon iwaizumi as he hands you a bottle of water before standing next to you, by the classroom window. “i thought you wanted to watch kyoka’s performance.”

you chuckle. you don’t need to be there to know she’d do great. you just know it. she has always been the ideal student and it’s for a reason. “i know she’ll do amazing, as always.”

“are you jealous?” it’s a question that catches you off guard. you don’t know where it came from, or what made him think you’re jealous of kyoka. she has a lot of qualities, and honestly, you have wished for wanting to be like her; but jealousy is not the right word. “sorry, that didn’t sound right. but, you did your best, too. it was good.”

you laugh, and it’s probably the only genuine one so far today. ‘doing your best,’ it’s funny. you know you could’ve done better, you are better, but you did it for your friend, for him. you don’t know if iwaizumi means his word. you’re not sure if he actually found your performance good or if he’s consoling you just for the sake of it. it’s probably the latter, however, you’re thankful for it, even if it’s just fake comfort.

“thanks?” yeah, it’s just fake. after all, everything so far is fake. the confession, the rejection, it sounds scripted. maybe, this is the most you and iwaizumi have talked till date. you do want to stay away from him, you still do, but today can be an exception. “are we still down for today?”

you didn’t mean to ask that. you don’t know why you asked that, but when you notice the corner of his lips curl up, you realise that it was the right move. “the date? of course.”

thinking about it now, you haven’t seen iwaizumi smile. well, you have, but not with you. not like you are a reason for him to smile, but you’d be lying if you say you don’t find his smile pretty. it’s adorable, especially the way his nose scrunches up and the way his eyes close completely when he grins. it’s cute, you think, and then find yourself too stunned to think further when you realise you just called him cute inside your head.

“uh, i’ll go.” yeah, it’s better to leave. you’re losing your mind after talking to him. god knows what made you think staying around iwaizumi was a good idea.

“yn,” he calls your name, having you turn around to look at him. “see you later.” and lord, your heart might’ve just done something unspeakable.

it’s arrhythmia.

you’re sure it’s arrhythmia because ain’t know why you’re experiencing increased heartbeats all of a sudden. you’re glad you had only half the classes or you would’ve fainted. to be honest, your current stance isn’t any better. you’re here outside school, waiting for iwaizumi to come so that you can go to the cafe together for your silly little ‘date.’ you can’t believe you had to lie to kyoka about it.

on another note, he’s late. you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes. you didn’t know school’s heartthrob has no punctuality. you wonder if the teachers would get upset if they know that their favourite boy makes his date wait for over fifteen minutes. you’re about to give him a call when your phone rings inside your pocket and coincidently, it’s a call from him.

“hi yn, i’m sorry for being la—”

“hello to you too mr. iwaizumi hajime.” you cut him off, slight mockery evident in your tone as you feel him hesitate on the other side. “if i may remind you, we have a date.”

you hear him sigh through the phone. “i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t know the coach would hold us back for extra practice. if you want, i can try asking to leave early.”

“no, please. i’m joking. you don’t have to skip practice for me,” you smile, pacing around the school exit. well, normally you would’ve been feral but logically, it would be a waste for him to skip practice for a date that isn’t even real. “i’ll go home. we can go out some other day,”

“no wait, yn. at least let me walk you home,” that’s completely, totally, certainly, unasked for. you don’t know whether you should be happy or sad, or going crazy and dancing in the middle of the road. “we had to cancel our date so let me make it up to you. do you mind waiting for another fifteen minutes?”

“no.” it’s a quick response, one that leaves you surprised at yourself. you do mind waiting. it’s getting dark, you don’t know why you said you didn’t, and that too fifteen minutes. even so, you can’t bring yourself to say the truth.

“great. i’ll be there soon,” you feel him smile through his words, reciprocating a smile back without your knowledge. “wait for me.”

and so you do. you could’ve waited in the library or some nearby cafe or the volleyball gym itself. however, you stayed where you were : by the exit. of course, you’ve had a fair share of students and passers-by shoot you with varied looks of concern, but you successfully fooled them by pretending to be on a call, or so you think. it’s crazy how you’re here wasting time on a boy you want out of your life. you hate how you’ve only known iwaizumi for a little over four days and discovered parts of you that you never knew existed before.

you wouldn’t say you like him, but he’s not a bad guy either. iwaizumi was never the wrong option in your eyes, honestly. he’s simply not the right one for you. there are differences that you can’t ignore, and certain things about him that you loathe. for example, how time seems to pass slowly when he’s not around.

“yn!” finally. an involuntary smile makes its way to your lips as you hear a familiar voice approaching you from a distance. “did i make you wait for too long?”

you chuckle, looking at iwaizumi, who’s panting for air. his hair is in a mess, the chains on his bag aren't fully done, and from looking at the bottle in his hands, you realise he didn’t even drink water after practice. “i don’t know, you tell me.”

“i’m sorry,” your smile grows bigger at his soft apology.

you pat his shoulders, navigating through the streets illuminated by dim street lamps. “it’s okay, i was joking.”

“by the way, i got selected for prince charming’s role.” suddenly, your smile vanishes into thin air. you don’t know why that happened. in fact, you should be happy. kyoka and iwaizumi acting together in the play, it’s what you’ve wished for the whole day. this is what you sacrificed your reputation for and yet for some reason, you find yourself forcing a smile at him. “and kyoka as cinderella.”

“isn’t that amazing? she’s good at what she does,” it’s not a lie and sungoon knows that. if there’s something you’ve learnt about her over the years, it’s her sheer determination. you snicker, thinking about the morning when kyoka said she was ‘scared’ to audition. looking back at it now, maybe that was just a prank to mock you, even though she would never do that. it truly is amazing, watching the prince charming and cinderella come together. “you both look really good together.”

on other days, you would have regretted saying that. however, today you don’t have any plans on taking it back. what’s true is true, and there’s no point denying it. “i wouldn’t be surprised if you both receive the best actor and actress this year,” another forced smile, another wave of suspicion passes over iwaizumi. “you know, for the couple event at the school festival, you should participate with her. she’s really good at games, just like you. besides, she thinks you’re cool so—”

“what about you?” the question leaves you speechless, fiddling with your fingers as you bite your inner cheeks while thinking of a response. “what do you think about me?”

god, it’s back, the arrhythmia.

at this point, you don’t even care about the question. you’re worried that if iwaizumi kept staring at you like this, you’d pass out. “me, uh, why does it matter?”

“it does. it matters to me.” you can’t defend yourself anymore. iwaizumi knows his way around with words. he doesn’t talk much, but he says a lot in the way his eyes look at you. though, unable to interpret his gaze, you find yourself experiencing a funny feeling in your chest as your face heats up alarmingly. “why do you keep recommending kyoka to me? you don’t like me anymore?”

once again, you’re taken aback. you can’t tell the truth, and you don’t want to lie. so, you simply recite the facts. “i mean, i do but, isn’t kyoka better? she has good grades, she’s pretty, she’s good in extracurricular activities, she's everything that i’m not. why do you even bother going out with someone like me?” maybe, that’s a lot of facts in one. it hurts for you to say those words, but at the end of the day, it’s true. being with iwaizumi wouldn’t change the fact that kyoka deserves him more than anyone else in the whole world.

“she’s not you,” he gulps and for the first time, you sense fear in his voice. you don’t know why, you just do. “she gets good grades, she’s good in extracurricular activities but she’s not you. and i like you, not her. so, don’t even use the ‘someone like me’ phrase for yourself ever again.”

before you realise, you’re already in front of your house. actually, you’ve been standing here for around ten minutes, just too lost in each other to even notice. you’re not sure if you process his words completely or correctly. all you know is that you’ve made a mistake, and now his words are stuck inside your head. he mutters a faint goodbye before proceeding to walk away, leaving you with all the uneasy feelings intoxicating your heart.

“by the way,” he says, making you flinch a little as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt while awaiting his words. “you are beautiful.” and then all you can recall is falling for the boy who never belonged to you in the first place.

AFTER MUCH consideration, you’ve reached the conclusion that you haven’t fallen for iwaizumi. your heart is skipping beats because of arrhythmia and you’re persuading your mom to get you an appointment.

you simply can’t fall for iwaizumi. he’s way out of your league ( see, you’re not shy to admit that ) besides, you don’t know each other. you don’t know about him but to you, iwaizumi is just an ideal classmate, or a close acquaintance, at most. moreover, here comes the best friend’s code : you can’t crush on your best friend’s crush, let alone date. you sleep with your guilt plagued mind everyday, knowing you and iwaizumi are in ‘love’ behind your best friend's back.

“yn,” you feel a push towards your shoulders, driving you out of your thoughts to find tatsuya looking at you with concern written all over his face. “what are you thinking?”

you shake your head. “nothing,” another lie. well, you’ve been lying a lot recently. you don’t remember creating high walls of lies around you in just a few days, with only iwaizumi knowing the way in, but again he’s looking at another lie you’ve made him believe.

“take a break if you need to. the play will start in a few minutes,” right, the play. you’re excited to see iwaizumi and kyoka steal the show. you’re dying to see them receive best actors award for the night. you’re dying to have the annual school magazine print their picture on the front page. you’re excited for them, or so you tell yourself.

it’s embarrassing to know that somewhere inside, you feel a little bitter about the whole crew picking iwaizumi without any recrutionary procedure. you don’t think he’s a bad actor, god, you can never. you haven’t seen him act but there’s nothing that boy can’t do. there’s a rumour spinning about how his mother was one of the best actors in Tokyo's best theatre crew. though, you don’t know how much of it is true.

but, that’s beyond the point. you don’t need to find his family history to know that he’s talented in all aspects. it’s crazy how similar iwaizumi and kyoka are. you’re about to discard all those thoughts and continue with the procedure until you hear the commotion in the hallway.

“we have— oh my god, yn, thank god you’re here.” matsukawa takes a breath of relief, walking towards you with a hopeful stare. “iwaizumi has sprained his leg, we need a replacement.”

now, that isn’t the issue you want to deal with around ten minutes before the play. “what am i supposed to do about it?”

“do you know someone who can fit the role?” he questions further.

you’d be lying if you say you’re actually thinking of someone as a replacement, for your brain is too busy worrying about iwaizumi as his injury. call it the godsent timing, because just then, your eyes fall upon the boy standing across the room. “how about hayato?”

“what? who, me? no,” he declines with an awkward laugh. “i have terrible stage fear. i’m sure no one wants to see a prince charming with overflowing anxiety.” yeah no, he’s right. besides, kyoka will be upset to know that not only is she working with a substitute prince charming, but also, he has chronic anxiety.

“but they want a handsome prince charming.” matsukawa isn’t half wrong either. they never held auditions for prince charming, proceeding to pick iwaizumi as if the rest of the population is a joke. hence, the audience doesn’t care about skills, but rather, the looks. “just practise your scenes. we’ll pre-record your lines and schedule the play as the closing show.”

matsukawa turns to look at you. “yn, can you please—”

“i’m sorry, do you know where iwaizumi is?” the question falls off your lips almost immediately, without giving him any chance to speak. you hear something along the lines of ‘school backyard’ as a response and sprint as if it’s the race for your life.

it’s basic human decency, you presume. had it been someone else, someone you haven’t even seen, you would still run, almost tripping and bumping into people. you would still grab a bunch of bandages and relief sprays from the medkit in the staff room if this were about someone else. it’s not just iwaizumi, you tell yourself. he’s not special, especially to you.

“geez, did you forget to walk to something?” you snicker as soon as you spot him sitting by the stairs, browsing through what looked like twitter at the slight glance you managed to steal.

iwaizumi chuckles. “you look tired.”

“yeah, i ran here from the other side of the school and almost tripped thrice on my way here.” you feel him snicker at the irritation in your voice while you take a look at his ankles and start dressing— by the way, you notice that he has pretty toenails; and after recalling how pretty his fingers look, it makes you wonder if he gets his mani-pedi done every week or so. “gosh, do teachers know that their favourite student can’t even walk to save his life?”

“are you worri—”

“of course, i am!” and then a pause; iwaizumi flaunts a taunting smirk in your direction and you realise how punchable his face looks. “i mean, anyone would be worried. what if it's a fracture instead? they treat you like a national treasure, everyone will go crazy.”

you’re not wrong.

everyone in the school, or even outside the institutional premises if possible, treasures iwaizumi more than their lives. you still remember the day minhee took the blame on her after iwaizumi accidently broke the principal’s bonsai, only for him to thank her by saying that she’s like his younger sister. long story short, there are numerous tales about people vouching for him and what not— it’s exhausting. the point is how big of a breaking news it would be when his ‘fans’ will know that iwaizumi hurt himself and won’t be attending school for the next couple of days, probably. you wonder if people will still watch the play once they know that their beloved iwaizumi isn’t the male lead anymore.

“how long do you think it’ll take to heal?” it’s an attempt to strike a conversation and you’re glad iwaizumi took the initiative. you were starting to feel embarrassed with his ankles in your hand.

“hm, three days? or four? maybe a weak? depends on how well you’re taking care of yourself.”

“four days,” another pause, he tends to think before tapping on your shoulder, making you look up at him. “do you want to go on a date with me?”

it’s like you’ve experienced culture shock. “what?”

“what? we have one due from the last time,” he smirks again, and you realise that he has been smirking a lot late. it’s beyond extents and makes you want to wipe that smirk off his face. “so, do you want to, you know, four days later?”

it’s back, the arrhythmia. you seriously need to get yourself checked before cardiac arrest knocks on your door. oh, and you’d love to punch his good for nothing handsome face but you don’t, maybe because he’s injured. after all, how is a man supposed to live with a broken leg and nose?

“looks like you’ve hit your head too.” you stand up, handing him the remaining bandages before storming off the venue. little did you know that your cheek started heating up the moment you looked into his eyes.

“hey, you didn’t give me an answer!” and you don’t want to either. you walk away, assuming someone would come and assist him to the main building because if you stay next to him for another second, you’ll go crazy. you absolutely hate coming to terms with your feelings but maybe, maybe you do have slight infatuation with iwaizumi; and maybe, you need to get onto it with kyoka before it’s too late.

“and the last scene? i was screaming internally—”

“can we talk?” you interrupt kyoka, partly because your ears will bleed if you heard another word about how ecstatic acting with hayato was and partly because you actually want to talk.

she stops, slight nervousness settling on her face. “yeah, sure.”

“about your crush,” it’s just three words and you’re already willing to leave the conversation taking place on your own accord. “okay, all i’m saying is that i like him too. i’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

and then you hear her laugh, out of everything. a part of you wants to scream because you just disclosed an important info, something you don’t even want to acknowledge yourself, and she’s laughing. moreover, it’s about the love of her life. your friendship is at stake and she’s laughing. perhaps you have a broken humour for not getting the joke.

“why would i be mad?” you blink, wondering if you heard her right. not like you were expecting her to go off and beat you in the middle of the street at 9 pm, but there’s always a chance. “i don’t think i have a chance with him either way. so, i’ll just root for you.”

this is why you think iwaizumi and kyoka are perfect for each other. they both are nice, literal saints, embodiments of kindness, not a vile cell inside of them. as for you, you had your sibling’s snack last evening and stepped on your mom’s foot while running away across the household. you don’t think iwaizumi has even stepped on an ant. instead, he seems the type to help them navigate or something.

“i feel bad now that you’re giving up,” you confess, and it’s true. probably the truest truth you’ve said so far. you feel frustration pent up inside you, threatening to overflow any second. “Why did i have to fall for iwaizumi out of all the people?!”

“wait, iwaizumi?” kyoka asks, dumbfounded, or rather, confused.

“yes, we’re talking about iwaizumi, right?” okay, you don’t have a good feeling about the direction this conversation is heading towards.

“no?” she clarifies and the look on your face morphs into visible panic. “i don’t like iwaizumi.”

“what?” you yell, turning a few passing heads towards you. however, you pay them no mind. “i thought you liked iwaizumi because of the name on your eraser. i-h, iwaizumi hajime, it makes sense!”

kyoka shakes her head in denial. “no, it’s i-h, hayato ito. i like hayato and not iwaizumi!”

an awkward pause follows. it’s a mess inside your head. you abso-fucking-lutely can’t believe the way you misunderstood the whole situation, and got yourself into a problem with seemingly no way out. you could’ve asked her about the eraser but you didn’t, proceeding to make your own assumptions and ending up in an even bigger issue.

kyoka gasps, pulling you out of your thoughts. “oh my god, then you have a crush on iwaizumi?” that phrase doesn’t surprise you anymore. “i thought you liked tatsuya.”

maybe, that surprises you a bit. you remember fawning over tatsuya, thinking about him all day, reading and re-reading your conversations with him. being with tatsuya has always been the highlight of your day, yet you don’t recall thinking about him ever since iwaizumi walked into your life. you didn’t seem to mind when tatsuya hung out with other people but you feel as if you have a knife by your neck whenever you spot iwaizumi with others.

you simply don’t know what’s happening to you. “yeah, uh, surprise?” and this isn’t the time to laugh but you do, trying to lighten the burden on your shoulders. “i’m not really sure if i like iwaizumi yet.” liar, you are. you may deny it till the end of the time but you know you’re falling for iwaizumi; slowly and gradually, but you are.

“didn’t you just say you like iwaizumi, though?” she smirks as if she can see through the lies you tell yourself. “well, whatever. at least, we don’t have to be love rivals.” yeah, maybe there’s one good thing about this whole situation. imagine having a crush on your best friend’s crush, embarrassing. but again, being in this situation built over misunderstandings is even more embarrassing, it’s eating you out.

at this point, you don’t even care about you, or your so-called reputation if someone discloses this whole thing to the public. you don’t care about tatsuya, nor do you give two flying fucks to your seemingly dead feelings for him. you only have one thing on your mind : iwaizumi hajime.

it isn’t about how you feel towards him. you’re still in the maybe stage. perhaps, you don’t like iwaizumi and this is just your fatigued brain coming up with bizzare conclusions. you remember falling for iwaizumi the day he walked you home. however, the next day, you were back to normal. you didn’t remember shit about butterflies and zoos. perhaps, it’s the same this time as well. so, you don’t care about your feelings, but you can’t seem to ignore how he feels towards you.

to iwaizumi, who doesn’t have any idea about the truth lying within, every second of this is true. every moment, every step, every word, every touch, every gaze, every smile, everything. he thinks you like him. no, actually, he’s convinced that you like him. and iwaizumi being the kindest person on earth is trying his best to like you back, to know you beyond everyone else’s perception of who you are. he greets you every morning over texts and bids you good night. he asks if you’re doing okay, if you need help with assignments, if you’re down for an evening stroll— he’s giving his everything; and you always turn his advances down, never daring to cross the wall you’ve created between you and him.

iwaizumi takes one step towards you, and you take four away from him.

kyoka bids her goodbyes at the intersection from where you both have opposite ways home. you had planned to spend the night at her place, only for your mother to refuse, saying she has a few things she needs to talk to you about. you halt at the intersection, staring and sighing at the night sky, contemplating how mess of a life you have as if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.

“yn?” you close your eyes. now is not the time. tatsuya is like the last person you want to see tonight. “what are you looking at?” he chuckles, mirroring your actions as he follows your gaze and looks up at the empty night sky as well.

“your mom,” he frowns at your reply, especially since his mom passed away when he was just seven, sending a sour stare your way. tatsuya isn’t the biggest supporter of your mom jokes, actually, for all the valid reasons. “what are you doing here? didn’t you leave for home long ago?”

“yes but,” he pulls out what seems like your scarf from his bag, handing it out to you. “you forgot this. iwaizumi said he would’ve given it to you himself but his leg . . . you know. don’t be sad that your boyfriend couldn’t make it, though. he said he’d be at school tomorrow.”

boyfriend, right. it feels odd hearing it from tatsuya. would he still be able to say with ease if he knew you have a crush on him, or rather, used to? overthinking apart, you’re glad tatsuya came to return your scarf or your mother wouldn’t have let you inside tonight. it doesn’t take you realise that iwaizumi and tatsuya are actually close, and they have gotten even closer over the past few days thanks to you and your crush on iwaizumi.

maybe, tatsuya is the only one who can help you out. “can i ask you about something?” he nods, and you narrate your whole story about how you borrowed the eraser from kyoka, iwaizumi misunderstanding the setting, the person kyoka actually has a crush on and everything else, all the things except the fact that you like tatsuya— used to.

“can you get more stupid?” that’s the first thing tatsuya comes up with after you update him on your dilemma.

“how am i stupid when iwaizumi assumed everything in the first place?” you slap his arm playfully, earning an exaggerated response. “what should i do?”

tatsuya scoffs. “tell him the truth.” god, no, asking him was the wrong-est move you’ve ever made. “don’t look at me like that! i hope you know you’re basically playing with that poor boy’s feelings.” that’s right. that’s the phrase; playing with his feelings. you didn’t want to accept it initially, you’re not the type to play with anyone’s feelings and what’s happening right now is a big misunderstanding.

however, hearing it from tatsuya makes it sound even worse. not to mention, you feel awful. you try to imagine iwaizumi’s reaction after you tell him the truth. you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. what would you do if you were in his shoes? how would you react? maybe you’d end up actually hating him, scream and shout, act like a dramatic bitch, and whatnot; but iwaizumi doesn’t seem the type to do that. he doesn’t come off as someone who’d shout at you. maybe, he’ll say it’s okay, and thank you for coming clean, and move on as if nothing happened.

the problem is, even if he’s heartbroken, he wouldn’t let you know; and you, being yourself, would believe it and stamp him as just another passerby in your life.

“how do i bring it up to him?” you mumble, looking at tatsuya. you’re thinking of another excuse in the back of your head. something along the lines of ‘hey, i don’t think you have to force yourself to like me yada yada—’ it sounds hella generous. you don’t want to turn this in your favour. even if iwaizumi claims he’s not forcing himself to like you, you will convince him otherwise. that’s your thought process, your silly way out of this situation.

“just be straightforward.” tatsuya interrupts your trail of thoughts. “you know, he lives just a street behind yours so if we hurry, we can make it before ten.” you take a look at your phone screen : 9:50pm. tatsuya’s hand slips into yours as he sprints towards iwaizumi’s house. you don’t know what time has to do with any of these. sure, ten at night is probably not the right timing to go visit someone but still, you have had your friends stand out of your window at two in the morning for impromptu midnight escapades.

maybe, iwaizumi is one of those ‘good boys’ who goes to bed at ten sharp, without excuses. to be honest, it sounds very iwaizumi-like. dinner at seven, studies following, and then to bed at ten, seems like something the one and only iwaizumi hajime would do.

before you realise, you find yourself standing in front of what is supposed to be iwaizumi’s house. it’s nice, beautiful, even. the garden is well maintained and you wonder if he’s into gardening. tatsuya shoots a call to iwaizumi, who peeks down at the street through his window just a few seconds later, waving at you before disappearing behind the grey curtains.

it’s cute, you think, and then decide that you’re crazy. no way, you just called iwaizumi hajime cute. sure, you find him a bit interesting but not like you have a passionate crush on him. you can be one of those fans, nothing more.

a girl opens the door and you recall that she could be his sister. he talks about her every time you both complain about siblings. iwaizumi helps himself down the stairs, using wall as support while his sister aids him shortly. you wonder if this is a wrong time to meet him. his ankle doesn’t look bad, not like you can actually see it, but back at school, he wasn’t even able to move it.

“how’s your leg?” the question falls off your lips instinctively, without giving him or tatsuya, a chance to even breath in each other’s direction.

iwaizumi smiles, looking down at his ankles before setting his eyes back on you. “quite better.” involuntarily, you reciprocate his smile, nodding before waving at his sister as well, who excuses herself shortly. “would you like to come in?”

“no, actually,” tatsuya cuts in, giving you a look of assurance. “we want to talk about something. she wants to, actually.” and tatsuya steps aside, leaving you and iwaizumi alone to talk everything out and clear all the misunderstandings.

“so, the eraser,” you begin, hesitatingly, looking at tatsuya who shoots you thumbs up from a distance. “it actually belongs to kyoka. i borrowed it for a test since i didn’t bring mine. the name too, the ih on it stands for hayato ito, and not iwaizumi hajime.” you want to dig a hole and die because first, this is so embarrassing. iwaizumi looks at you unfazed as if he’s too stunned to speak; and second, your voice practically dies towards the end of your sentence, making it more terrible than it already is.

iwaizumi doesn’t speak for next thirty seconds. he simply looks at you, blinking occasionally, making you wonder if your confession traumatised him so much that he lost his verbal abilities. you won’t blame him. this whole thing is hurtful enough to give anyone a trauma. furthermore, as you’re about to speak more, he lets out a dry chuckle, almost convincing you that he has gone crazy. “that’s it?”

that’s it? that’s it? that’s all he has to say? you’re about to lose your mind.

“i mean, i’m sorry for not bringing it up earlier,” you kind of want to scream in the middle of the road because you went through all this trouble, beating your mental health to death, only for him to chuckle and say that’s it? then you ponder if it’s sarcasm, or if iwaizumi wants a written apology from you, one that you will post on the school's forum and recite in front of the whole school at morning assembly. you’re marginally close from ripping your hair out, strand by strand.

“it’s okay. you couldn’t tell me before because i took it so seriously. it’s my fault for jumping to conclusions.” you’re almost in tears once again. had it been someone else, or let alone someone else, had it been you in his shoes, you would’ve made a scene; and iwaizumi is here, in front of you, taking the blame for something that isn’t his fault in the first place.

“no, iwa—”

“i said it’s okay. i’m glad you brought it up. you don’t have to worry about it anymore.” he cuts you off, reassuring you again and again. all this time, you’ve been thinking about yourself, never really considering him and when you finally give him a chance to call you out, he turns the situation in your favour. “honestly, i’m relieved.”

“iwaizumi, what are you doing outside?” an unfamiliar voice breaks in before you could respond to his words. you run your eyes around, who iwaizumi seems to have forgotten about, only to realise he has already left. turns out, the voice belonged to iwaizumi’s mother and godbless, she’s just as pretty as him, or even more. “and you should invite your friend inside. it’s cold out here.”

“yn’s not a friend. they’re more of a,” ain’t no way. if iwaizumi’s planning to say what you’re thinking then there’s no way he hasn’t gone crazy. “classmate. they were about to leave.” his mother nods, smiling at you as she walks inside, leaving you and iwaizumi basking in silence. suddenly, all the words inside your mouth die down, leaving a taste of speechlessness as you mutter a silent goodbye to him.

“you good? why do you look pale all of a sudden?” iwaizumi asks, stepping forward to check your temperature, only for you to step back as an empty frown settles on his face.

“i know i lied but i always thought we were at least friends,” you say it with a chuckle, having iwaizumi retreat his hand as you turn around, proceeding on your way back home. “take care of yourself.”

it’s funny because all this time, you’ve been stepping away from iwaizumi, never letting him approach you, taking multiple steps away from him; but just watching him step away from you feels like the life inside you has been knocked out. but it’s fine, this is what you’ve wanted.

and just like that, you and iwaizumi get all the way back to step one, being what you initially were : classmates.

YOUR DAYS without iwaizumi have been like a monochrome film. you haven’t talked to him after that night, neither did he try to strike a conversation. the homeroom teacher changed the seating arrangement, with you and iwaizumi ending up on opposite corners of the classroom. it was a perfect excuse to not being able to talk; but now, four days later, you’re sitting on the last seat, watching iwaizumi as he jots down notes from the board. you notice the way he spins the pen between his fingers as he re-reads what he wrote, or the way frantically flips to the very last page and do some calculations. you don’t know when you started noticing so much about him. you find him in the hallways, standing with his friends and still isolated, you realise something must be wrong. maybe his dog is sick, maybe he didn’t score well, maybe this, maybe that— and your head would be full of iwaizumi all over again.

“you’re zoning out again,” kyoka mutters, poking your arms with her pen. one good thing about the new seating arrangement is that kyoka is your deskmate, and you honestly need her next to you for the next few months, at least. “is it iwaizumi again?”

and you need her because she always seems to know what you’re thinking. you don’t even need to say a word, or wear an expression. all she needs is just one look at you and that’ll lead her to your mind. you don’t respond to her question; you choose not to, and the two of you get back to writing once the teacher looks in your direction with a heavy gaze.

“you never told me what happened that day,” you pause again, contemplating your choices. you don’t know why you never told her. you don’t hide anything from her unless it’s your credit card number, but jokes apart, you don’t know what was stopping you from telling her the truth all this time.

“i told him everything.” you mumble, it’s more like a whisper, maybe even quieter. “the whole misunderstanding, and— yeah. everything. we haven’t talked since then.”

you feel her nod with a soft hum. “and you miss him?”

“no.” a pause. kyoka’s eyes travel to you at your quick reply while yours stay fixed on your notebook before you start writing again. “i don’t.”

the truth is, you don’t know the answer to that question. do you miss him? do you not? it’s a question for later. you don’t know who you miss— the iwaizumi that was your friend, or the part of him that used to be your boyfriend. honestly, you wish he’d talk to you, like he used to. like the way you wouldn’t text him one day and he’d spam you with missed calls, like the way he’d pester you at school asking why you didn’t respond to his texts. you want him to reach you out again because you can’t do it now that he knows the truth; and if he chose that he’s better off without you, you’re no one to intervene.

till then, you’ll wait, because that’s all you can do.

“you’re lyin—”

you cut her off. “i’m not.”

“yn—”

“we’re in class, kyoka. get back to writing.”

“no— yn look at me.” and you do as silence intoxicates the air between the two of you. there’s a knowing glint in her eyes, as if she has already known the truth and is asking for your confirmation, waiting to hear it from your mouth. she takes a deep breath, looking at you with stern eyes. “do you like iwaizumi?”

you don’t know the answer to that question either. falling for someone is complicated. you don’t know when exactly you start falling, or when you have fallen all the way in and too deep to return, or when you start falling beyond the rock bottom. you don’t know whether you’re falling for iwaizumi or not. you like being with him, really, and you’ve learnt to tolerate his all perfect attitude that used to irritate you initially. you find yourself thinking about the things the two of you would’ve done if you ever went on that date, or the time when you almost asked him to teach you volleyball even though you have a single athletic bone in your body.

when it comes to him, you think about things you’ve never thought about. you listen to him as if he’s a synchrony of a melody and melancholy. with him, you do things you would’ve never done otherwise. you find yourself breaking your own rules for him, but are you falling for him— that’s a question you don’t know the answer to. you don’t know how to find an answer to that one.

kyoka doesn’t wait for your response. she probably knows it anyway. it’s almost as if she’s waiting for you to catch up to your feelings. but it doesn’t make sense to you. even if you give her an answer, even if you say that you like him, it wouldn’t change how you feel about him. you can tell the world that you love iwaizumi hajime but it wouldn’t change a thing about your feelings for him, because saying as always been easier than actually coming in terms with your words, and you know you’re lost in your way towards or away from iwaizumi, and no words of saccharine confessions could ever change that.

the bells, lesson ends, and you stay in the class until all the students walk out. it’s break and you haven’t had an appetite ever since you woke up this morning. just as expected, kyoka leaves to see hayato ito, they’ve gotten closer over the last few days and you’re expecting a dating announcement from her soon. she’s like that, kyoka likes to show off, but in a good way. when you win an award, she posts your picture with the caption ‘everyone be jealous because i’m yn’s best friend and you’re not,’— it’s adorable, and then you never see the end of it because she never stops telling everyone how she’s your best friend, your closest friend, and the friend who’d always be the most suitable candidate for your lover because no one knows you better than kyoka; and the last part is very much a joke, by the way.

when sitting alone in the classroom doesn’t help you calm down your racing mind, you make your way towards the terrace. for some reason, standing under the vast skyline brings you to ease. although, coming to the school terrace is prohibited and you’ve already received multiple detentions for it, you don’t mind spending another day cleaning the classroom if it means you can spend a few minutes at the terrace everyday. however, today turns out to be different. you wanted to spend the whole break on the terrace, now you don’t, because you see the one person you’ve been avoiding for four days— iwaizumi hajime.

your first thought is to leave, to pretend that you never saw him standing there; but then you realise— you never did anything wrong. well, except the whole misunderstanding part, you never did anything wrong. you owned up to your mistakes, you’ve apologised and iwaizumi even accepted it. in any case, it’s his fault because he considers you a classmate and nothing more, even after everything you’ve been through. so, you walk to your usual spot, feeling iwaizumi’s eyes following you as you exhibit your walk of pride. you kind of want to run away but it’s too late now.

a minute passes, and then another, followed by another and you’re starting to think this was a bad decision. you should’ve left when you had the chance because silence is even more suffocating. and the fact that both of you are socially incompetent isn’t helping your case. but someone has to break the ice and soon enough, you realise that in this situation, you have to take the lead.

“um, you don’t have practice today?” you ask, fingers crossed that he doesn’t find you weird or shameless for showing up after four days and acting as if nothing’s wrong.

“wednesdays are off,” right, tatsuya told you once. another trail of silence follows. you don’t know what to say and judging from his face, it seems like he doesn’t know either. you won’t like, you have your questions and you believe he does too, but you don’t know where to start. “i’m sorry about that day.”

iwaizumi blurts out, leaving you surprised. you feel your heart beat relentlessly, knowing that he’s finally addressing the topic you’ve been running away for days now. “i haven’t told my mother that i’m dating and introducing you as my partner would’ve been, i don’t know, too early? since we’re still in the trial stage. and, you’re definitely more than a friend so,” you notice the soft tint of red climb up his cheeks as your lips curl into a smile. you couldn’t help but find it cute, one doesn’t always get to see iwaizumi hajime struggling with his words. “just— you get it, right? i would’ve told this to you that day but you had already left.”

and once again, his words leave you speechless, sending your heart in a spiral and giving you butterflies. you think it’s one of his charms. he has a way with words, a luxury you never had. “why didn’t you tell me the next day, or the day after that, or just one of these days?”

“i figured you were mad so i kinda wanted to do something for you,” there's a slight hesitation in his voice. you don’t know where it comes from. you notice the way he scratches his nape, avoiding your eyes actively while letting those words fall off his lips. you wouldn’t say you actually know him, but you think you’re a step closer to knowing the iwaizumi hajime behind the notion of a straight-A student that the school has created.

you think you can talk to him now without worrying about the past misunderstandings. “iwaizumi, do you even know what i like?”

he takes a second to think. “uh, mint chocolate?”

“no way, i hate mint chocolate—” and from that point on, it’s just a cycle of whats and hows. iwaizumi says that tatsuya told him you like mint chocolate. he gasps in disbelief when he realises that tatsuya had lied. you are so busy laughing about the whole situation that you don’t notice the way iwaizumi’s eyes rest upon you. you fail to notice the way his lips curl up as your honey dripping laughter fills the air around, and he’s glad because iwaizumi believes that he’s absolutely smitten, and there’s no way you can know unless he tells you himself.

there’s not a moment when iwaizumi isn’t looking at you. all the four days when you weren’t in contact with each other, he looked through your texts and the pictures that you had taken in his phone just because his camera is amazing. he steals glances at you in class when you aren’t looking. iwaizumi doodles your face at the back of his notebook and one can see your name written all over the last few pages, along with ways to apologise. iwaizumi can’t stop looking at you because you’re just too pretty that nothing else pleases his eyes.

so when you finally stop laughing, assuring him that you’d tell tatsuya to not lie to him about your likes and dislikes ever again, iwaizumi realises that he doesn’t ever want to stop looking at you. he wants you to be there every day, next to him, and he wants to be able to admire your face for all the days to come.

“yn, would you like to go on a date with me?” he proposes, and everything goes silent when you look at him with your eyes wide open, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. “we can get to know each other better.”

at that moment, you realise that you don’t know much about iwaizumi either. you know him as the smart and talented guy, or someone who plays for the school volleyball team, or as someone so good at art that he can apply for international competitions if he wanted to. even after being his ‘girlfriend’ or something along those lines, you learn that you don’t know him any better than everyone else.

“yes.” you reply, because you discern that perhaps, you’re a step closer to the real iwaizumi, even though you may be a hundred miles apart. you realise that iwaizumi hajime is enchanting and it’s a luxury to know the iwaizumi beyond the limits that apply to everyone else but you.

the rest of your day goes by in a blink. you don’t realise when time passed and now, you’re sitting in for the last lesson of the day. the iwaizumi effect, you may call it, because when iwaizumi is around, time seems to go faster and when he’s not, the world stops and everything makes you feel like you’re running out of breath.

"you look happy," kyoka comments but you pay her words no mind. instead, your eyes are fixed on iwaizumi, and you shoot him a sweet smile when he turns out to face the student sitting behind him, getting one as a response as well. just then, you realise that iwaizumi has a really cute smile. you never really noticed it until now, and you don't want him to lose that smile ever again.

he points his fingers towards your textbook, gesturing you to focus on your lesson, and you do the same until he turns away from you, scribbling on his notebook before shipping towards you once again, holding it upright for you to decipher the words, which continue to remain a secret between iwaizumi and the pages of his notebook since they weren't clear enough for you to read.

you don't remember the last time you felt this way. all these unspeakable feelings that you're unable to identify, it wasn't until iwaizumi came into your life that you started thinking about anything along the lines of romance. you pull out your phone, texting him something before beckoning him to check his phone, and just then kyoka's voice interrupts your main character moment.

"yn— geez, i've called your name like thrice already!" she slaps your shoulder playfully, making you snicker in response.

you shoot her an annoyed expression. "what?"

"well, i wanted to ask about chemistry but when the fuck did this happen like—" and then he paused, looking around before leaning closer, speaking with a low voice. "didn't you and iwaizumi fight?"

"we talked it out," she deadpans, because that simply isn't enough as an answer for the way you've been asking for the past four days. "we're all good now, i suppose." you feel her looking at you in disbelief while the teacher dismisses the class, and you know she’s probably thinking about how you should’ve sorted it out four days ago if talking was all that you both needed to get back to how you used to be.

but you like to think that she doesn’t understand. kyoka has been in more relationships than you and she understands its aspects better than anyone else that you’ve known. but she has never been in your shoes. she didn’t find herself getting over her crush in just a few days and started getting butterflies she didn’t like until weeks ago. she doesn’t get butterflies when she thinks about this one person and gets losts wondering if she actually likes him or if she’s only in love with the idea of him. she doesn’t go on dates with the person and she isn’t spending nights and days wondering if they’re dating or if they’re just friends. she has never been in your shoes, and you have never experienced these feelings before iwaizumi.

"you're in love with him." she snickers, slinging her bag up her shoulders while you pack your belongings, completely overlooking iwaizumi who’s standing by the door, waiting for you.

"i'm not in love with him," you’re quick to decline, you can’t help but smile at the thought of it. were you in love with iwaizumi? you don’t know. maybe it’s not love, because love is a heavy word. it’s not just something you can say out of the blues. you don’t think you’re in love with iwaizumi, yet.

she rolls her eyes at your stance of denial. “you were literally flirting with him, yn.”

“we were talking, kyoka.” and she shakes her head, surrendering to your thought process because kyoka knows she can never understand your logic. “by the way, i’m walking home with iwaizumi so you can leave.”

all you notice is the way she nods, mumbling what you think was ‘and you say you aren’t in love with him,’ before walking out of the class. you decide not to refute her words— it was pointless. you can only decline something to a point and after that, you have to fall for acceptance. maybe that’s why you feel like you wouldn’t mind it anymore if someone asks you whether you’re in love with iwaizumi, because you do feel some type of way about him. you don’t know if it’s love— god— you don’t even know if you like him, but you know what you want him near you. you’ve spent four days without iwaizumi and you sure you wouldn’t want to go through that ever again. all you know is that you like being with iwaizumi, and you hope that rest will fall into place over time. you’ve spent weeks in a no-label relationship with him, not knowing what the two of you are, and you don’t mind spending the next few weeks lost and wondering about what you both can be.

you’re so busy drowning in the ocean of your thoughts that you fail to notice when iwaizumi left the classroom. you’re sure you saw him around when kyoka was still in the classroom. you rush downstairs, assuming that he must be waiting by the exit.

“yn,” you stop at the sound of your name resonating through the hallway, noticing a girl from junior year if you recall correctly, running in your direction. “i heard you and iwaizumi broke up. is it true?”

and yet again, you find yourself wondering how to answer that question. did you break up? you don’t think so, because you weren’t dating him in the first place; but again, everyone in the school believes that you’ve been dating him and iwaizumi never tried to decline those baseless assumptions. however, her question is what you’re worried about the most. just thinking about what follows after pushes your heart towards the edge. you can’t help but picture them together, her and iwaizumi, and quite frankly, they’d make a good pair. are you ready to see them together? not that you know; but, are you ready for iwaizumi to leave you for someone else? you don’t think you can imagine that, or even want to think about it.

“er— where did you hear that from?” you question back in an attempt to avoid answering the question. on the other hand, you couldn’t help but think how the first time, iwaizumi was last and this time, it’s you who’s making him wait.

“a few seniors were talking about it,” she replies, getting impatient as seconds pass. “just tell me, are you still dating him or not?”

“they are,” that’s iwaizumi, and you turn around to face him, taking a sigh of relief since iwaizumi is congenitally better at answering tricky questions than you. “i don’t know who told you that we broke up, but it’s not true. we’re still dating, and i don’t plan to break up soon.”

you don’t remember since you’ve started feeling nervous around him. maybe it was after the night he walked you home, or the night you told him everything; or maybe you’ve always been nervous around him, just failing to notice it because you were too busy running away from him. but you know it now— you’re nervous around him. iwaizumi makes you nervous, and it’s only because he’s too good at pretending. he puts his hand around your shoulder to make her think how much he loves you, he talks about you to his friends to put on a show about your relationship. iwaizumi is too good at pretending, and you’re afraid that you’re falling for his empty words of admiration.

when she left after offering an apology, in that moment, you look at iwaizumi and it suddenly occurs to you how beautiful his eyes are. you don’t think you’ve ever been in such close vicinity with him, and now that you’re standing next to him with his arms around your shoulders, you feel like it’s the safest place to be in. his words felt like intricately written verses of poetry and you forgot how to look away from him. you notice iwaizumi’s eyes settle on you and you don’t turn away, you can’t, because you feel as if your feet have forgotten how to walk. he asks you why you have that look on your face, as though a shadow has fallen across its sun-drenched landscape, heavy with premonition, you tell yourself that it’s just a phase.

but then iwaizumi flicks your forehead, sliding his hands into yours, leading you towards the exit— a smile makes its way to your lips. it’s amusing; the second you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t in love was the moment you realised you were, and you’ve always been.

“here, your ice cream.” iwaizumi holds out his hand towards you, waiting for you to take it from your hand. and then a second passes, followed by a couple more; then he calls your name, only to receive silence in return. you don’t respond until he grabs your hand, passing you the ice-cream cone himself before chuckling at your antics. “you zone out a lot, don’t you?”

“why did you lie?” you ask, taking the cone from his hand, although your favourite ice cream didn’t look appetising anymore. “you could’ve told her that we’re not dating.”

“do you want me to tell that to her?" you don’t know what made him ask that question, but little do you know that somewhere inside, you don’t want this rumour to come to an end.

you’ve lost him one and you know you want to lose him again. truthfully, the four days without iwaizumi were the hardest for you. your hand felt emptier than before you had met him— your heart felt heavier. you kept denying your feelings because you were scared, and even now, you feel as if you’re hanging by the edge of a cliff. you didn’t know how important he became to you until you watched him stray further, but now you do; at least a part of you does. in some strange mysterious way, you knew there was something special about him the day iwaizumi asked you on a date for a very first time. in his eyes, you caught a glimpse of yourself. despite being polar opposites, you noticed the minor similarities between him and you. there were times when you wished to go back to the day where he stood next to you, stunned by your confession, and you’d tell him the truth instead of lying and running away like the coward you are.

but then, there are days when you find yourself thanking the higher deities for putting you and iwaizumi on the same path, though it was supported by lies and misunderstandings. you don’t think you would’ve ever tried to enter iwaizumi’s world if none of this would’ve happened, neither would you have let him enter yours. you want to run away, wipe the slate clean, start all over again and see where it would take you.

because you aren’t sure what you’re doing. you don’t know anything about love. you find it scary, you think you’re too young to claim the word ‘love’ for the way you feel towards iwaizumi. you don’t know what love is, but if it means jumping in an endless pit, eyes closed, and waiting for iwaizumi to catch you, then you don’t ever want to climb back up.

"iwaizumi," his eyes travel to yours, a gaze that throws your heart in an endless spiral. "i know the eraser was a misunderstanding but, i think i actually like you."

you look at him, he looks at you, a few seconds pass and when he doesn’t reply, you feel regret conquer your mind. maybe, expecting a positive response is far-fetched. if you put yourself in his shoes, you wouldn't like him back either. liking him wouldn’t even be an option, you don’t know if you’d be able to trust him all over again. so, if you can’t imagine yourself falling for someone who has done everything that you did to iwaizumi, then how can you expect iwaizumi to do the same?

there are moments when you think iwaizumi hajime is too good for you, and maybe, this is one of those. he’s too honest, too good to be true, he doesn’t know how to cut people out of his life; and probably that’s why, he continues to be with you because he doesn’t want to break your heart. it's an unwanted pity, albeit one that you’re grateful for, perhaps.

“just reject me already. you don’t need to waste your time,” you say, because iwaizumi hajime being the kind soul he is, isn’t capable of saying no. so, you decide to create distances from your end, hoping he wouldn’t chase you this time ‘round.

iwaizumi still doesn’t say a word. he simply looks at you, perhaps trying to read your expression, or maybe thinking of ways to say no; but it’s what you think he’s doing. you were never able to perceive what actually goes inside his head. maybe that’s why, when he steps closer to you, you forget how to breathe. "would you like to date me?"

and his question takes you out, really. iwaizumi? you? dating? you like the sound of that, but if you put all the events together, no one of it makes sense. "did you hit your head again?"

"you're being rude." he frowns.

"and i think you're making fun of me."

"i'm not," iwaizumi sighs and that’s the first time you sense annoyance in his words. you’ve never seen him annoyed or irritated, not as much as he looks right now, at you. "i don’t know why you’re acting like you committed a crime. it was a misunderstanding, a mistake, and we solved it. we both were at fault and we apologised, that’s it. leave it be. i’ll say this again; i like you, yn, and i don’t care what happened in the past. would you like to go on a date with me?"

this time, you make silence reign the air around the two of you. once again, you don’t know what to say. are you supposed to nod? say yes? run away? or are you supposed to kiss him like those actors do in the movies? you’d never know.

“i’ll take that as a yes.” turns out he’s in a silly, goofy mood, because iwaizumi is acting as if he didn’t just present a heart-fluttering confession. well, everything he does flutters your heart, but hearing him say those words, it made you fall for him all over again; and you’d have to agree that iwaizumi hajime looks really hot when he’s annoyed. “where do you want to go for our date?”

“movie on saturday?” you suggest. “or whatever you want, actually.”

“not saturday. me and kyoka are planning to meet to wrap up the council work.” ah, kyoka. you don’t know the last time you envied her, maybe never until this moment. it’s new, really, because you’re being envious of your best friend just because your potential boyfriend is picking her over your date; and it’s equally illogical because you know kyoka likes someone else. “can i come over tomorrow?”

“what? no. it hasn’t even been a minute since we started dating,” truthfully, you’re not exactly against the thought of iwaizumi coming over to your place. it sounds wonderful, actually, but you have a pride to maintain. “besides, i didn’t say yes, yet.”

“that’s why, i’ll be coming over tomorrow, to ask you out again.” he says, looking at you as if you are his whole world. “and i hope you say yes.” this is why you think you hate iwaizumi more than you like him. he has his way with words, and knows what to say, and each and every sentence leaves you speechless, unable to process your own thoughts. you hate how he excels in all the fields because just when you thought you could maybe something equally heart-fluttering, iwaizumi leans in closer, planting a soft kiss on your cheeks before intertwining his hands in yours, kissing the back of your palm. “please, say yes.”

and you think you will, because you don’t know what it means to like someone, but it feels like that for you. like you and iwaizumi exist in a time before love— as though you were waiting for the word to catch up to the feeling.

THE THOUGHT of dating iwaizumi is ambiguous.

you aren’t even close to it. iwaizumi said he would ask you out again, but you decided to assist him and kyoka in their council work, which was rescheduled on the day you and iwaizumi were supposed to have your ‘date.’ you didn’t plan to spend the day with him, honestly. despite his multiple requests to come over to his place with kyoka, you refused to agree until ten minutes before they planned to meet. you don’t know what convinced you to agree. perhaps, it’s the stagnant picture of the two of them in your head, maybe it’s the fact that you had nothing to do and going over to iwaizumi seemed better than sleeping throughout the noon.

after arriving at his place, you realised that it was jealousy that drove you to his house; or rather, an utter sense of diffidence that plagued your mind. something about watching kyoka and iwaizumi work together pulled you away from the thought that you and iwaizumi can be something more than friends. however, despite being aware of iwaizumi’s feelings for you, you can’t help but believe in the possibility of him and kyoka.

“how’s council work going?” you ask as the two of you stroll down to your house since iwaizumi insisted on walking you back even though you said it wasn’t necessary. these are the times when you think he pays you a lot more attention than necessary, more than you deserve, even. you notice the way your steps are in sync before he stops to take a look at a stray cat sneaking into someone’s garden, and the next step he takes doesn’t match yours anymore.

“it’s good.” he replies, and although you can’t see his face now that he’s walking a step in front of you, you could hear the smile in his voice. “kyoka is good at what she does. i’m assuming we can wrap it up by tomorrow.”

your grasp around his hand tightens, fingers interlaced and yet you could feel the distance in between. his words leave a sour taste in your mouth. however, in any case, you can't deny how capable your friend is. it’s only normal for people to compliment her, and in iwaizumi’s case, you presume that he can relate after meeting someone on the same spectrum as him. “right, she’s efficient.”

“i thought she would be, i don’t know, cold? she looks indifferent but is actually really fun to—” and you stop, causing him to do the same as he halts in the middle of his sentence, lowering his head to get a better look at your expression. “is something wrong?”

“no?,” you shoot him a forced smile. “i’m just thinking how you two would make a good couple,” you say, because dating iwaizumi is ambiguous. it’s almost as if every second with him reminds you that you don’t belong here.

“you’re back at this again,” there’s annoyance laced in his voice and you wonder if your actions have finally broken his shell. after all, there’s only so much a person can put up against your sheer persistence. “i don’t care about kyoka, or how good or bad we look together. i like you—”

“why?” your voice shoots up a few octaves, loud enough to turn a few heads in your direction as the passersby assume it to be just another lover’s quarrel. “iwaizumi, everything reminds me of how different we are. i try to not overthink but then i look at you and kyoka and realise how i came between the two of you.”

you see everything come down falling. it feels nice, for some reason. now that he’s in front of you, standing with an expression that ranges between anger and disappointment while you’re finally able to voice your thoughts, you don’t feel like this is bad enough. after all, communication is the key, and unsaid words only give rise to unwanted strains in a relationship. even though you knew nothing could be made out of whatever you and iwaizumi have, you want to end it on a good note for the sake of both of you.

for the next few minutes, you talked and he listened. you aren’t sure if you were making sense. you didn’t know if you were processing your own words, it all sounded like an information dump— just like when you’re assigned a task and when asked about it, your supervisor drops each and every thing about it on you like an explosive, and you’re left to find the starting point. looking at his face, you discern that iwaizumi must be feeling the same way.

it pains you to see him like this— limbs on side as if they’re lifeless, an ocean of dejection in his eyes; as if the words are on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t know what to say, you can see it on his face. you wish you didn’t have to see him like this, not when you are the reason behind the lack of delight on his face. you know you should’ve stopped this earlier, you wish you could, and you were a step away from having him out of your life, but he looks at you once and you gravitate towards him like a moon does to its planet.

“yn, listen to me.” he cups your face in his hands, conquering your line of sight to the point he’s the only thing you could see. however, your vision had blurred from the tears dwelling in your eyes. “i like you. i wouldn’t even have talked to her if it wasn’t for the student council—”

“i don’t deserve you,” another interjection, another pang to his heart, your voice cracks— another line of conversation.

“when you say that, it makes me want to show you how much you deserve me and the other things you wish,” he holds your face even closer, as if you’re going to disappear the next moment.

it’s as if you both were cursed or just plain unlucky. you have your ideas about love, and he has his; and as much as you tried, none of you could make it work. you don’t think it’s the lack of feeling or intention that’s tearing you both apart— it’s one small seed of doubt planted in your head, and it’s doing its job. you brush his hands off your face, looking him in the eyes for one last time. “let’s stop,”

“you look as if the life inside of you has been sucked out, and it’s only nine,” kyoka comments as soon as the class is dismissed. you don’t pay attention to her words, letting a sigh roll off your lips to suffice as a response. “fight with iwaizumi?”

“no,” it’s a quick response and you don’t care if she believes you or not, even though the chances are that she most likely doesn’t. as much as you wish you could talk to her, you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell her your concerns regarding her and iwaizumi. having her by your side was a little nicer than being alone, but you decide to push her away this once, now that your worries can potentially cost you an invaluable friendship.

her gaze rests upon you for a brief second before she shakes her head in hopelessness— disappointment, at most— mumbling a faint ‘whatever’ which is carried away by the winds as soon as the word escapes his mouth. you don’t care, if you put it quite frankly. the lingering whispers of students in the hallways that talk about you and iwaizumi, or how they haven’t seen you with him for over a week now, don’t bother you anymore. you’ve learnt to ignore then and this time, the stars seemed to have aligned in your favour.

iwaizumi had to leave for inter-prefectural volleyball league the day you turned him down, albeit indirectly. you wanted to see him— still want to— and you almost strolled down to his place when he returned, which was two days prior from today. you’ve learnt to hold yourself back, accepting that there’s no point aiming for something out of your reach. you and iwaizumi are like stars in the distant sky. they attract, and when they get closer than they should’ve, it results in an explosion, consequently destroying everything within the close radius. even after iwaizumi returned to school, you’ve held yourself away from him, avoiding places he frequently visits. you even stopped going to the terrace in case he looks for you there.

you take a step away from iwaizumi and you notice iwaizumi’s world is beautiful as always; with or without you, it doesn’t matter.

“kyoka, what do you think of iwaizumi?” it’s an impromptu question, one that leaves her staring at you with perplexed eyes; but you’re too lost in your thoughts to even reconsider your words.

kyoka furrows her eyebrows and you wonder if she got a hint of what’s going inside your head. it wouldn’t be surprising if she does, honestly. kyoka has a good perception, and perhaps that’s the only reason why you’ve been avoiding her eyes for almost a week now. “and why are you asking that?”

“just answer the question.”

“i think of him . . . as your boyfriend.” the hint of playfulness is evident in her words, yet her eyes tell you otherwise.

“can you be serious for one second?” you counter with annoyance as you shut your notebook close, putting the pens back in your pencil case. after the argument with iwaizumi, hearing someone address him as your boyfriend puts you off. not that the two of you ever dated, but the thought of it was good while it lasted.

“serious about what, iwaizumi?” she chuckles and at this point, you’re convinced that she’s using your dilemma as a way of comedic relief. “yn, i don’t even think about him unless it’s regarding council stuff.”

perhaps, the last part is supposed to comfort you, though it mingles with the chatters and soon enough, slips out of your mind as if you never heard it. timing is irrelevant for two people who are meant for each other, that is what you once believed. but you and iwaizumi met during a time when you were such a mess, and had so much to figure out. you were busy getting a hold of your life while living a lie you told to save your friend, although it got you entangled deeper in the mess; and now just days later iwaizumi is claiming to have fallen for you. it sounds euphoric, but how could you believe it when everything around you reminds you of the possibility that you and iwaizumi were, maybe, always meant to meet, yet not meant to be?

“by the way, tell him i won’t be able to make it tomorrow since i’m busy,” kyoka’s voice pull your out of your thoughts.

a heavy feeling settles inside of you. “make it to where—”

“just tell him, he knows,” she runs out of the class as she always does, probably to hayato’s class because lately, her priorities have shifted towards the senior in question, now that they’ve gotten closer after the play. however, you don’t fail to notice how both iwaizumi and kyoka have been keeping things from you, like just now. you don’t pay it no mind, you really try to, but a part of your mind comes up with the chances that they could’ve been meeting without your knowledge.

you find yourself on the way to the terrace once again, after avoiding the location like a plague for days on repeat now. turns out, you couldn’t keep yourself away from it, for that’s the only place you feel like you’ll be able to breathe in when every other corner feels suffocating. a part of the reasons for your ventures to the rooftop is to get rid of all the baseless thoughts you’ve been coming up with. putting everything aside, doubting your best friend is the last thing you want to do. you don’t want to believe them, but you don’t have to hold onto a false hope either.

somewhere inside the back of your mind, you’re reminded to get back to class, though you don’t pay attention to that voice. you don’t want to go back inside the four walls and sit with the two people who are the reason behind all your worries, albeit you feel guilty for thinking of them this way. to put it in better words, you wouldn’t be able to focus either, for your mind is too busy thinking about everything else. and so, you let the soft winds soothe your mind as you lean against the railing, the cold metal against your cheeks as you close your eyes in an attempt to think about anything but the boy you wish to hear from the most at the moment.

“i looked for you all ‘round the school, y’know?” iwaizumi’s voice pop up from the entrance, making you flinch at his sudden arrival. it frightens you how you didn’t hear his footsteps approaching as you always do. however, those feelings wash away with the waves of cold breeze brushing against your nape, sending shivers down your spine.

it reminds you of the day you had confessed to him, and you had dragged him to the rooftop, same location in the exact same weather, where he had rejected you before frankly asking you to give him a chance at getting to know you better. the day, all you could think about were the points about how iwaizumi is so likeably unlikeable. you had always thought of him as a foreign creation, something made so intricately with extreme focus so as to avoid all chances of faults and mistakes. iwaizumi, to you, wasn’t someone who you despised because of your differences or rather, how perfect he is. dislike would be a strong word to summarise the emotions you initially had towards him, indifference would be a better term.

albeit, you find it humorous how your feelings towards the said boy have changed over the span of just a few weeks. you wouldn’t say it’s because you ‘fell’ for iwaizumi, but rather because you got a chance to look at him without filters. it’s as if you got a chance to meet him backstage, away from all the roles he has to play about being an ideal student and an ideal child for every parent out there. yeah, maybe his kindness and captivating personality played a role in changing your opinions towards him but, most of it has been because you were able to notice the puddles of similarities between him and above, above the impression that iwaizumi and you belonged to different worlds.

“if you’ve noticed, i always come to the rooftop if i don’t feel well,” you mumble above the sound of wind howling around with slight disappointment evident in your voice. perhaps, after all this time, you had at least expected him to look for you on the rooftop everyday, knowing that the only place you’d ever choose to hide yourself is under the vast expanse of sky, in front of the cityscape.

“is that your test paper?” he asks, pointing his index finger towards your hand, and that’s the moment you realise you’ve been holding onto it for a while now. iwaizumi takes it from your hand with slight hesitation in his actions as if he’s taking all the measures to not provoke you. however, the words that leave his mouth suffice of all the incitement his actions could’ve offered. “geez, you’re getting scores in single digits.”

a chuckle rolls off his tongue as he goes through your answers, making you groan before you snatch the paper from his hands. “it’s my first time,”

there’s an undertone of solicited jealousy in your voice, a glint of anger seeping through because even if your scores have always been a few levels before iwaizumi’s, they never hit the single digits until now. you wonder if he would believe you if you said you always received perfect scores up until second year of middle school. call it a change in air or whatever, but switching schools in the middle of your elementary school years turned out to be an awful choice since your grades fell down by a few percent; and despite being able to recover them to the point where you could maintain a reputable position in your grade, they never reached the same height again as they used to.

much to your and your parents’ disappointment, your grades declined further in highschool. while the reason could be the extreme curriculum that high schoolers have to follow, you like to blame iwaizumi for that. you’ve been in the same class as him for two years now and every time he receives an award, something inside of you dies. you aren’t jealous of his achievements, nor do you think he doesn’t deserves the compliments and honours he gets. you spent two years looking for the reason behind your indifference towards the campus crush, only to realise that you’ve been maintaining your distance because he reminds you of everything you could’ve been if things didn’t go the wrong way.

iwaizumi sighs, pressing more of his weight against the railings, leaning towards the as in an attempt to look further down. “you should get a tutor before finals. i mean, i’m always down to—”

“can you stop acting like nothing happened?” you cut him off, half-annoyed, half-impatient. originally, you wanted to stop talking about academics; but then it occurs to you how normal iwaizumi is, as if you didn’t have an argument and haven’t been talking for almost a week now. while you admire him for his ability to strike a conversation in all situations, even under heavy circumstances, something about it this time didn’t sit right with you.

“what happened?” he asks, but it’s almost as if he has been expecting you to ask you this question.

and at the same time, you hope he doesn’t find you weird for bringing this up after you’ve told him to call it quits on you. “i broke up with y—”

“we weren’t even dating in the first place,” ouch, you think, and it didn’t occur to you how hurtful it sounds until you heard it from iwaizumi himself. “and if you think i’m giving up just because you think i look better with kyoka, then you’re wrong.”

“do you ever just look at me and wonder why you fell for me?” you let your words replace the silence looming above you and iwaizumi, allowing your eyes to meet his’ as if they’re having a conversation of their own. “because i do,”

“i’m not as good as you— not even close to being as good as you. i was an average student and now i’m getting scores in single digits, i’m neither good at art, nor at sports. i’m not as kind as you, i get into fights, get detentions, i can’t help you with council works, i can’t help you with anything because you already know how to do everything.” there’s a smile dancing on your face for some reason. perhaps, you’re hoping for him to realise his worth, finally accepting that he deserves someone better thank you. “don’t you think you deserve someone who is almost, if not as, perfect as you?”

another trail of silence follows as you attempt to decipher the look on his face. you take a step back, running your mind all over the mess you’ve created, and you end up wondering— what’s the point of this? you’ve been selfish for so long, it shouldn’t hurt to stay that way for a tad bit longer. even before you had realised your feelings for iwaizumi, you were aware of the impossibility of the two of you; so being selfish in this case was a luxury you never had the chance to choose. it was a game of push and pull from the start. you spent days playing with his heart, making him believe that you were desperately in love with him, and when you tell him the truth, iwaizumi accepts it like just another as-a-matter-of-fact about life. that’s when you realised you didn’t deserve iwaizumi, not by a long shot.

perhaps, you don’t deserve iwaizumi at all, not even the small parts of him you’ve been able to experience over the past few weeks. you don’t know if you’d be able to continue living your life the same way without iwaizumi, watching him pursue someone else— someone better— but it’s everything you wish for him. while iwaizumi is everything you’ll ever need, you can’t have him settle for someone less. after all, nothing in the world could compensate for the shortfall.

“is that how you think of me?” he chuckles as if you cracked a joke. iwaizumi doesn’t spare you a glance for the next few seconds, letting his eyes linger over the invisible patterns he’s creating with his fingers, on the railing. there’s a desist but you don’t think he’s waiting for an answer to his question. it’s like a verbal punctuation, like a semicolon before he exhales heavily, turning his gaze back to you.

“yn, did you know i failed in english in middle school?” he begins just like any one another as a matter-of-fact conversation he would initiate during lessons. “i’m good at sketching but not at painting, i do even the simplest of calculations on paper, can’t spell assassination without autocorrect—”

“no way,” you interject, letting your eyebrows crease as you look at him in disbelief. well, of course, you wouldn’t think iwaizumi hajime would have trouble spelling assassination, if anything.

“yes way, i really can’t.” he clarifies, emphasising the ‘really’ to make sure it sounds believable. “i once burned coffee, i have terrible sleeping habits, i’m lazy, i fight with my sister all the time, was almost suspended in primary school for beating a kid and—” another impromptu pause and he takes a step towards you, leaning closer than you already were, resting his forehead against yours. “— i’m in love with you.”

it sounds like a heavenly confession in the way his eyes look into yours as if you’re the only thing worth looking at. his hands slip into yours at the right moment, giving your heart the push it needed to pace relentlessly as if it knew no boundaries. his lips curl into a lovesick smile as he interlocks his fingers with yours. “i think we make a perfect match.”

you slide your hand out of his’, “you sure do know how to shut me up,”

“and i know of many ways to do that,” you notice his lips curl into his signature smirk, one that makes you smile involuntarily as well.

the two of you bask in silence as it blankets you under the comfort it’s offering. you hate being in situations where there’s no absolute answer and your mind keeps oscillating between two choices that you can’t bring yourself to choose from. it’s humorous and equally irritating how one moment, you think you’d be just fine without iwaizumi and the next, you feel like drowning when he’s not next to you. perhaps, it’s the mood of time, the feeling of forever. the belief that you both could live and die by your word and never regret a thing. from what you could decipher, iwaizumi has always been in love with everything around him when he waltzed into your life as if it’s his own; and now that you’re taking your steps into his, slowly and gradually, all you want is to be a part of that. you would wake up thinking about how iwaizumi and you are like parallel lines— always close, but never together, but then you’d go to bed with the belief that somewhere, in some timeline, perhaps your paths were meant to intersect. you wouldn’t say it is love, but you couldn’t say it isn’t either.

at times, you wonder why iwaizumi chose you, and it’s beyond your insecurities about academics and things that separate him from you. it’s rather a rhetorical question, one that iwaizumi, probably, has already answered, but you couldn’t help but ask again— why me. you have always been a nuisance to those who know you. despite receiving unconditional love from your parents and relatives, one would always hear them complain about how much of a bother you could be. however, you’ve never heard iwaizumi complain about it. it’s as if he knows you can be handful, but then again, his hands are always empty when it comes to you. you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t pursue yourself if you were in iwaizumi’s shoes. you’re too busy being lost in your own worries and concerns that you can’t see the person who adores you to death; and if somehow you do, then it’s impossible for you to believe you could be of so much important to someone that they’re willing to embrace single piece of you as if it belongs to the museum.

“yn, get that you’re scared. you might feel that we won’t make it and that’s okay. i’m not asking you to disregard your worries. i respect them, and in return, i’m asking you to respect me.” iwaizumi says out of the blue, replacing the silence with his melodic voice. “you don’t have to give an answer now. we can stay the way we’ve been, no labels, i won’t force anything upon you. in other words, i’m asking you to let me like you—”

“and then one day when i suddenly feel up to it, i’ll accept you then,” you cut him off, there’s a smile on your face before you playfully hit his arm. “seriously, iwaizumi? quoting a dialogue right now?”

“i mean it, though.” he pulls you into a hug, chin resting above your head as he draws circles on your back, and you give in as if there’s no better place in the world than his arms. you may not be sure about him, or your feelings for him, but if it means you can spend a few more seconds in his arms, then you don’t mind reconsidering your decisions.

“i love you,” his voice is no louder than a whisper and, you’re sure it wouldn’t have been audible if you weren’t next to him, with his arms around you. “i apologise for taking so much time to say this, and it’s fine if you think it’s rushed. take your time and sort your feelings. all i know is that i love you, i always have, and all i’m asking you is to let me love you.”

his last four words ring in your head like an alarm. you look up, his grip loosens around your waist but never lets you out of his hands— there’s a puddle of emotion in his eyes. you see love, you see sadness, and fear, it’s a given. a smile rests on his lips but you could feel the hesitation in his fingertips soak through your shirt and exude through your skin. his words are the same, but it’s the first time you think of the possibility that maybe, he’s scared too. the future is predetermined and nothing could refute fate’s design. but if, even for a brief second, you can have the opulence of stars aligning in your favour, then you’d want to welcome it with arms wide open and a heart ready to walk into the storm.

“can i kiss you?” albeit not the words you wanted to say at the moment, you don’t mind the intent. however, your doubts cave in when his hands ghost up your waist, feet taking a step away from you without a second thought.

“no,” it feels like your heart has stopped. “you’re scoring in single digits. i think you should focus on academics instead of wanting to kiss a guy,”

“gosh, iwa. that’s brutal.” and the very next second, it comes back to life as your lips curl into a smile. “are you going to tutor me?”

“yes,” you chuckle at the cheery smile on his face as he takes your hand in his, planting a soft kiss on your palms. “and we can kiss after your studies.” well, it’s unlikely that you’d be able to get a good score in just three months, especially now that you have iwaizumi to serve as the main source of distraction; but the unlikelihood of falling in love with him? zero, because you realise that he has always been in love with you and you just caught up to him.

NOTE. if u made it till here im gna kiss u and wish that you only have good days from now

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toomanygoldfish · 5 months

Text

nishinoys has always been scraping up his hands for as long as he could remember. One of his earliest memories is home learning to ride a bike, but there were so many attempts of crashing into the ground and nicking up his hands

being a child who was generally very bored and never engaged in the curriculum, he would fidget with his hands a lot. With his fingers running over his knuckles he naturally picked at the scabs on his hands

as he grew older and gave more thought into his appearance, slicking up his hair, dying it, and generally taking better care of himself in general; he found himself resenting the scars on his hands

however he never seemed to give up the habit of picking at the scabs that formed there from consistently throwing himself at the floor. The scars were never big, but they were enough to drag his confidence down. until he met you

the tow of you had been seat partners who were set to work on a project with each other. It was a math class so you spent a lot of time writing with pens.

one thing he noticed about you very quickly was that when you were bored (which was quite often) and you had a pen, nothing would stop you from drawing.

Most of the time it was on yourself, but every once in a while he would come to his desk and find a sketchbook draped over the desk, papers were starting to tear out of the book, and there seemed to be a science paper mixed in the pile of papers

realizing that he has no room to actually put his stuff down, not that he had much in the first place, he tentatively calls out;

“Hey, could you scoot your stuff over a bit?”

you look up at him, look down at you stuff, then try to shove it all on your side of the desk, fumbling with a stack of papers to make way for him.

you don’t look up as you attempt to move your stuff, but you do mumble out a quiet

“oh yeah sure,” you fumble with a pencil and it lands right in frount of his feet. Both you and him go for the pencil at the same time, and try to pull your hands away at the same time.

He ends up grabbing the pencil for you and handing it to you, you grab it a continue to shove stuff into binders and folder, with no apparent organization.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to get this spread out.” As you shove the last paper in to your backpack your sleeve of your jacket slides up your arm, revealing an elaborate ind drawing of what seems to be a koi pond.

Awkwardly sitting down he points to your arm.

“what’s that on your arm?”

you glance down at you arm, and pull the sleeve up to get a better look at the drawing.

“this?” He nods his head “Umm, I think it’s a fish.”

he furrows his brow slightly

“you think?”

your eyes go wide and you forget how to speak for a second.

“I-uh- well there is a scar here at it kinda looks like a turtle, so I drew some fish to go with him.” you bring your arm closer to his face and point with your other hand to your scar. He leans in slightly to inspect it. leaning back he meets your gaze. “do you do that often?”

you tilt your head ever so slightly to the right

“what?”

“draw on your scars?”

he self consciously moved his hand on top of his other one, rubbing at the scars there.

“yea kinda”

“do you think you would teach me”

“well there is not much to teach, you just kinda let the ink flow?” You blush and rub the back of your neck in embarrassment.

He looks slightly dejected before responding quietly

“I don’t think I have the creative ability for that”

Noticing the sad tone you speak carefully

“I could draw for you, as long as the scar is on your arm or hand”

he moves his hand around to show it to you

“I have quite a few, take your pick”

“If I may ask… how?”

“I scrapped up my hands then I pick at the scabs”

You nod sympathetically

“I used to do that too! What helped me was a fidget ring, or just a ring in general, it’s great to twist around your fingers. here’s one!”

you pull a ring off your finger an hand it to him, he slowly slips it onto his pointer.

“oh… thank you”

“of course! Do you have a scar that you want me to draw on? If it doesn’t bother you of course”

“no not at all! Here’s one”

he points to a random scar on his hand you start drawing as the teacher starts he lecture.

the bell rings and you jump from you seat, with Noya a goodbye and rush to your next class. When Noya finally looks down at his hand, he finds a peculiar little bird, the same one that he sees one a hair pin of yours.

——

hi mani here! I wrote this at like 2-3am ish. So if there are any mistakes please ignore them. I was also racing the battery on my phone of if I could finish or it would die first.

#haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #reqs open #haikyu x reader #fluff #the goldfish speak #noya #noya x reader

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noworneverphantom · 10 months

Text

tagged by @bbreaddog <3

Are you named after anyone?

My legal name, no I was not named after anyone. My name that I chose for myself? Oh yes.

I chose my (current) name after a book character I heavily related to, and it's also a name who's meaning has to do with stars, which is perfect because I'm a space nerd.

When was the last time you cried?

Yeah that would be this morning...

Do you have kids?

No. Not really old enough to have kids first of all, and second of all not really interested in having kids

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I use sarcasm when I'm really comfortable with someone, but otherwise I'm not really all that sarcastic

What sports do you play/have played?

I used to play soccer. I did that for about 6 or 7 years and then I pretty much aged out of it. Not much opportunity for leisure soccer after you hit high school, especially if your school doesn't offer it. I would have had to go pro and I wasn't that dedicated.

I was also a gymnast for maybe 3 years or so? It was really fun, but I ran into the same issue. Once I hit a certain age, it was either go pro or quit and while I wanted to go pro, it just didn't work with my kind of lifestyle.

I also used to briefly do ballet.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their smile and their laugh.

What's your eye color?

Hazel. But my eyes actually have central heterochromia, which means that the inner part of my eye surrounding my iris is brown, and then it fades out to the outer part of my eyes which are green. I think they're very pretty and other people tend to agree, especially when I'm outside in the sun

Scary movies or happy ending?

Happy ending for sure!! Also scary movies just give me massive anxiety alsdkfal

Any special talents?

no? I don't think I have any special talents but I also tend to have a more negative outlook on myself than everyone else does on me so...

Where were you born?

What are your hobbies?

Honestly, anything creative really. I love drawing, writing, reading, playing music, composing my own music/songs, singing, digital art, crocheting, sewing, embroidering, I could go on but it's late and my mind is blanking. I have a million hobbies though. (thank you adhd)

Do you have pets?

Two dogs who are very annoying (but I love them very much)

How tall are you?

Tall enough that I'm almost average height

Favorite subject in school?

I adore art classes. But a good english class is also the best thing ever, especially if we get to write essays all year long

Dream job?

Ugh that's a tough one. I can never stick with something for too long because I get bored and want more stimulation, I want constant change. So any job that can provide me that would probably be amazing. I would say something art related, but only if it meant I wouldn't grow to hate creating art. Maybe something where I can feel like I have a purpose, where I can really help people and make a strong impact on their lives?

No pressure tags: @sadmushroomgoblin @dragons-in-spaceee @sunny-sol @timetravellingkitty @chillychive

#thanks so much for the tag!!#this one was a lot but it was nice to do this #tag game

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