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roscgcld · 3 years

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It's "just five more minutes of sleep" just "one more chocolate chip cookie" I had toooo, I had to keep reading 😩 how do I know your writing won't suddenly sprout legs and run off??? 😶 Haha XD You 🤝 Me "if I don't include Good Teacher (read: dad) Gojou content then what's the point?" hELLO??? TEARS ;-; (gonna try and make my own response as vague as possible cause spoilers) even when THAT is happening he chose to use those last seconds to reassure her and says *that* and know I Am Emotional

there is a lot of asks from this cute anon so am gonna make it long. also there are some spoilers, so read with your own caution~

(Continued) 😭 tried to keep it limited to one ask since I don't know if you accept multiple parts but here we are. Yeah mental trauma can be heavy, and oh that bit with Maki fits in perfectly since we didn't see what happened in between, how some characters got from point A to point C (like in ch 137, that was so sudden) (or we did see and I just forgot, I just remember where we left off with them mid-arc and then seeing them post-arc)

(Continued) "whacked" is such interesting word choice considering~ you. you know how it went. It brings to mind the image of whacking someone gently over the head with a newspaper. I am both laughing and crying. Ahhhh, you did not hold back. Aw daydreamer-chan it doesn't stop there 😭 I really feel for her, gosh, I just want HUGS. Even if 1/2 a hug. (I'm sorry) One day 😔 *plays kazoo sadly* dream a little dream, of a happy little scene, where you're here with me~ ✨ together for infinity~ 🌌🌏🌖

(Continued) Don't worry about the rambles, I love listening to people go off about their ideas!! Even better if u have fun with your own stories! Aksks and well 👉👈 what is a writer, if part of our souls don't desire whump content or to watch the struggle to win and getting back up again. That stuff is cool! I've sent you four asks already so I'll tell you in a new one! Ah shoot wait won't that end up having spoilers too if I go into detail ;-; can it be hidden under the cut?

Honey I am not going anywhere as of now loool - so all my works are always here for you to binge whenever you want cx fear not haha!

And okay see - yes Gojo is an ass, and I make that very clear every time I write for him cause let’s be honest here; he pisses everyone off AHAHHAA. BUT - he still does care for his students. I think that is very obvious. So I always try to make it so that I make that part of him shine through more cause that just makes me feel all happy and soft inside cx

I felt that it was the most accurate way to write them meeting up once more cause for me, she sort of just runs about the station not sure of where to go lol so i felt like it was the most fitting way for them to meet up once more. plus, it causes the most trauma for her in one go. AND OKAY SEE - that was the first phrase that came into mind okay? When I first read it I thought “well shit, Nanami got whacked by Mahito” and that is how i describe it to everyone lol. Friends who get into the manga will always hate me cause they thought the same thing too cx

I get that honestly - however I realise here on tumblr there are a portion of readers who are not happy when I explore? Like i mentioned yesterday that I was interested in exploring a more darker writing AU cause of an official art I saw, and I thought “Maybe putting them into a Mafia!AU would be cool.” Cause the in the Mafia!AU world, you gotta think really deep and dark for certain parts, and it interests me a lot. But then some random anon decided to say that I am sick and I need help - and it’s the few reasons why I wonder why I share the things I write lol. If I can’t write the things I am interested in, and people are going to go out of their way to try and like, make a huge deal out of it, I just rather not sometimes lol. Cause am a very pessimistic person. I get discouraged easily cause of some things that happened when I was younger, so sometimes I have to remind myself that I am writing myself and no one else. But I also get discouraged lol. Idk maybe I am just being too hard on myself but I just, I just start to talk down on myself and agree with the ‘haters’ cause I still don’t know what possessed me to hit post on my first ever headcanon HAHAHA

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ilcaeryx · 4 years

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Limelight: Chapter 3 [Bakugou Katsuki/Reader]

SUMMARY: In their ingenuity, villains spurred the competence and excellence of heroes with unexpected consequences. Before, most heroes could focus solely on combating villany and make a living out of it. Today, a well-established hero is multifunctional: a protector, entertainer and idol in one person. Engaging the public the way a celebrity would is a common strategy, leaving the tabloid industry flourishing and eager to make a killing.Number 2 hero Bakugou “Ground Zero” Katsuki refuses to indulge others’ fantasties… though he’ll make an exception for you.

TAGS: Reader-Insert, Idol-like Heroes, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Vacation, Long-Distance Relationship, Hero Dating Civilian, Influences from K-pop, Comedy, Aged-Up Character(s), Idol Variety

COMMENT: Yikes, I forgot I had actually written this chapter but not uploaded it here...

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Stalker Tendencies

Today was a good day. For you, a good day translated into a productive, fullfilling day and by extension a serene night. Lately (meaning these last few years) those had been rationed out like canned pineapple during war time. You, dear reader, had been starving for quite a while by that point. It wasn't the ferocious type of hunger either. Instead, it was the cautious nibbling on your sole slice of pineapple for the week, perhaps the entire month, even though your very instinct harassed you to consume.

In the quiet town of Shirahiga, the days blurred into an amalgam… allowing you to eat your one slice in peace.

Now if you were a pessimist, you would assume that there were around two hours left of the day to become disappointed. For the sake of your well-being, you hoped that no superior being was orchestrating anything nasty for you. If it were true, it would be massively discouraging, wouldn't it?

But thats's enough of your shallow and edgy background. Let us snap back to reality.

Being a temporarily productive person, you were re-stocking the modest shelves of the village's sole grocery stole. Although it wasn't in your job description, you figured you could spare a few minutes to help the owners out. According to the agreement of last week, you had one delivery left tonight before you could call it a day and it was only to the café down the street.

Just the bread left and I'll head out.

You, L/N Y/N, were certainly getting that bread and in about 15 minutes you could head home.

The entrance bell tinged cheerfully. Making a surprised face to yourself, you finished loading the bread and stood up, brushing residue off your jeans. This was a small town grocery store, not a convenience store in Tokyo - in this town things weren't open late. Late meaning after 9PM, in this context.

You had better things to do than babysit someone so you made Matrushka dolls out of the carton boxes and carried them to the designated spot behind the store. Afterwards the owner quickly gave you the delivery wares for your next target, eager to close the shop.

It seems like everything is here, you thought as you counted the groceries inside your backpack and checked them off with your list. With a zip you closed it and struggled to get it on since it was one of those bulky hiking backpacks.

You were more than motivated to leave this place.

However, upon standing up and appearing like some sickly hunchback out of fucking nowhere from behind the counter, you locked eyes with the dude.

You didn't catch a lot of him, but you didn't like what you did see.

Upon seeing the customer, you did a 90 degrees bow and pretended to tie your shoe-laces to avoid him. People always said you shouldn't stereotype others but once safety was involved virtue signalling could fuck off. That was the appearance profile of a robber, seriously; tall man dressed in dark jeans and hoodie, hair and face neatly nestled underneath the hoodie and mouth mask. If you couldn't see his face, your Quirk would remain inactive and that made you anxious. You sure as fuck weren't going to walk up to him to touch or smell him instead.

"Hey, cashier girl," he rumbled from above. "Are you done?"

You couldn't pretend any longer, so you stood up and you adapted your 'customer service' persona and shot him a nervous and fake smile, looking him in the eyes. All you could distinguish were red eyes and broad cheekbones, along with stray pale hairs dodging the hoodie's edge. He was irritatedly tapping on the glass surface with his fingers. Okay, maybe he wasn't a robber this time around but no one went around dressed like that without a motive. Thus you decided to peace out.

Breathing in deeply, you answered, "I don't work here, sir."

Bye bitch, you bade him farewell inside your head as you walked passed him, clinging onto your backpack straps.

When you were outside, you sneaked a peek inside the store. The owner had taken the guy's payment and he didn't seem distressed, so with a relieved sigh you kept going.

Tonight's weather was pleasant and you generally liked taking nightly walks but you just wanted this over with. Dipping in and out of the public lights, you made your way down the street past the few stores in this town, all locked. By the end of the road, the little café was welcoming your inside, even though there was a 'CLOSED' sign on the door.

You froze up mid motion when something overtook you by your left, whirling into a full stop in front of you. Light deepened the night with his black clothing, your stunned silence and the afterglow of fear bursting inside you.

He cracked his knuckles using his thumb on his left hand while cocking his head to the side, glaring.

"Leave me the fuck alone," he said slowly, his brows narrowed and knit a spider-web-like network of creases above his nose. "You pieces of shit can't just do that, can you?"

The guy moved, causing you to stutter backwards. He made a noise of disgust and rolled his eyes before continuing down the road, eventually slipping into the darkness between the vegetation.

You couldn't get into the entrance of the café fast enough, but fuck - you tried inserting the wrong key repeatedly, your hands shaking. When the right one slid in you unlocked the door, swung it open in the smallest arc possible and darted inside. The door shook in its frame and with a click it locked.

It became hard to stand with your knees clobbering against each other so you slid down on the floor, wrapping your arms around your legs. Your breathing was loud in your ears and your chest felt like it couldn't expand properly with your iron-grip on your legs. You told yourself that he wouldn't enter, he was simply threatening you not to ever go near him.

Who was that?

That guy wasn't from here, that you were sure of. Judging by his clothes, stature and voice you pinned him in his mid-20s. There wasn't an abundance of younger people in this area; aside from visiting family members and tourists, most people there were above the age of 30. Thus, you could draw the conclusion that he indeed was a tourist.

Whoever that person was, you'd heed his advice and stay clear out of his way.

Unfortunately, because of his mouth mask you couldn't fullfill all critera for you to track him… which meant that you would have to be more careful from now on. Not that you wouldn't be if you could track him, but it was always reassuring to know where those you wanted to avoid were, The lack option of having complete control whether a person could approach you or not made you feel unsafe and exposed. It was not something you were used to.

This was not something you could deal with alone, you realized when the shaking stopped and you had trouble breathing with your dry throat. Asking for help was the right thing to do, definitely. After all, this person could be a threat to anyone, regardless of age and gender. Thus, you gathered yourself the best you could and told the café owner about your

Incidentally, this is how L/N Y/N incited a witch hunt that would eventually make her a D-tier celebrity.

If you enjoyed this, give it a like or reblog.

#bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bnha imagines #ilcaeryx.limelight

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adventures-in-poly · 7 years

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Pockets

I had a happy poly coincidence the other day. A thread started on my online poly forum about coming out at work – how to do it, who does it and why, etc. After reading post after post about people who are happily out, I found myself once again discouraged at the lack of varied viewpoints in the poly discourse. “I came out at work, everyone was fine with it/supportive.” (Someone mentioned later that all the posts about successful coming out stories had been, up until that point, written by men.) So I responded that I actually wasn’t out at work, mostly because of my own awkwardness.

A few posts later, someone else replied that she also wasn’t out at work, and I did a double-take when I saw who the poster was – someone else on my team! Someone who I had only just started to get to know, whose desk is very close to mine. It was such an amazing feeling finding out that someone I already knew through other circumstances just so happened to be poly (as opposed to knowing they were poly from the beginning, or getting to know them because they were poly). It was as casual and normal as finding out that someone else just so happened to go to the same college as you. She was also not out on our team, and she felt the same concerns about coming out as I do. Indeed, it wasn’t exactly a happy post, but I felt connected to someone, someone who I actually knew, in our hesitation. I felt so excited in that moment.

When I started this blog, I had clear goals and visions for where it would end up. It began as a series of personal posts on FetLife, hoping that I would get a few MeowMeowBeenz in the form of likes or comments. I later moved the posts to Tumblr, because I was bored one day, I preferred the medium for sharing writing, and I had started to censor myself on FetLife since my audience consisted entirely of people I knew. I didn’t expect in the slightest that this blog would ever get any traction.

But then, slowly enough over the course of a few months, the blog started to gain recognition. A more popular poly blog would occasionally reblog one of my posts, which pulled in over 100 notes (still a lot for me, even today). I can tell when someone is currently reading my stories as notifications appear on my phone in real-time, the same user liking posts in reverse-chronological order, engaging with my journey in the wrong direction. At that point, the goal of the blog shifted slightly, from a series of disjointed posts, to something with cohesion. I had been jaded by the lack of varied viewpoints in the poly discourse: how the famous authors and podcasters seemed to be pretty much fine with everything, empathetic towards the pain of first-poly only from an “in retrospect” perspective. I wanted to show people that it wasn’t always that simple. To be a voice for the rest of us, in real time.

But I had wanted this to be a story about coming to terms with poly. About going through the hardships, having the difficult conversations, feeling the revulsion of jealousy, even hating this lifestyle at times, but ultimately “breaking through” to the realization that this does make sense for me. And now, I’m not sure if that’s where this will end up. I’ve written about this before. I’m not sure if this blog has a light at the end of the tunnel. I have no idea what will come of my relationships or my writing. I write mostly when I have tangible problems and when I’m feeling just creative and awake enough. I don’t write when I can’t express my problems in a constructive way, when all I want to do is write about people and not ideas, or when I just have nothing poly-related to say. The latter has been the most common one recently. I feel I’ve hit a wall in my poly journey: not getting any more or less comfortable with it, not having enough new experiences to shake some inspiration from my head.

What’s perplexed me throughout writing on this blog is the amount of support I get from my readers. I get a lot of support. I’ve never gotten a single piece of hate mail, or even concern-mail. For almost every post, even the posts where I’m especially pessimistic, I expect people to reply saying Maybe it’s time you consider whether this is right for you, but instead I get replies saying, I feel this too. Thank you, and You’ll find peace some day. I’m so thankful for the support I get. And, of course, because I’m me, it makes me feel guilty as well. Because who am I, this introverted woman-child of the emo age, to foster a community or inspiration in anyone? These days, I worry that this space is more like an anti-poly blog masquerading as a pro-poly blog. I don’t want to let anyone down, or deceive anyone.

I recently attended a talk on cyberbullying. The talk, of course, addressed how the anonymity of the Internet can lead to a mass lack of compassion, fueled by our short attention span, our instantaneous access to breaking news, the millions of individual voices and beliefs on social media. Nothing I haven’t heard before. But towards the end, this same speaker who had connected the Internet anonymity factor to cyberbullying also connected it to a way out. Because in the multitude of voices, you can find pockets of all kinds of people all over the place, not hindered by geographic proximity to each other. The speaker encouraged the audience to find comfort in whatever small pocket of the Internet makes sense for you: whatever minority voice can consistently push against the flow of the majority and whisper, You’re okay. you’re safe.

And here’s where I’ve been trying to get, in very many rambling words. I feel a shift in the “point” of this blog again, back to something like its original purpose. This blog was always meant to be about me, and my inspiration, and my journey. If others find solace in my words, I feel joy, but that was never meant to be the reason why I write. I simply wanted to be a voice, one single voice for the currently-lived experience of navigating the shitstorm of breaking social norms. Because it’s not really poly, is it, that’s the thing of grief. It’s the isolation of it all. The lack of a guidebook to point us at all in the right direction when we’re fucking up royally. The very notion that we should have to decide whether we tell our coworkers about all our loved ones. The double-life that so many of us lead. The weirdness, and the newness, and the hiding, and the oscillations of despair and elation.

No matter how I am feeling about my poly journey, or whether poly is right for me, I will always support the idea of poly, and the people who pursue it. We are creating our own guidebooks, our own roadmaps, together as a group. We are paving the way towards social recognition, and eventually to acceptance, and hopefully, eventually, to codified laws. This is so much bigger than me, and my feelings, and my blog. Like gazing into the stars at night, I can find some peace in the relative unimportance of my problems in the face of something much, much bigger.

So if my voice, even my most negative voice, can do something positive for you, like my coworker’s post did something positive for me, then this blog may continue to have meaning. And maybe that will be enough for me, for now.

#poly #polyamory #non monogamy #nonmonogamy

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thecorteztwins · 7 years

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September 10 was National Suicide Prevention Day. I didn’t know that (though oddly did talk about the subject briefly with my dad) so today I thought I’d write down what, in my experience, are effective things to say to someone thinking of ending their life, and what aren’t. I emphasize that this is just in my experience as a frequently suicidal person and someone who has talked to others who are as well. But it’s doubtlessly NOT universal, people are different. Also, this is long, and obviously talks about some dark things and personal experiences. I don’t want a bunch of people telling me I’m strong or they’re glad I’m alive, I really don’t, I’d just like you to hopefully take away something helpful to yourself or other people.

So, here’s what, to me, DOESN’T work:

- “It will get better.” You can’t guarantee the future. And whoever you’re talking to not only knows this, they probably don’t have the capacity right now to make themselves believe otherwise. Sure, it might get better. It might not, it might get worse. Or it might take a long time. A lot of people are suicidal not because they want to die, but because they want to escape something in their lives, be it mental illness or an external cause. Unless an actual end is in sight to whatever is hurting them, just telling them “well it will get better” sounds like bullshit placebo lie to anyone. Unless you can answer “how” and “when” I’d consider saying something else.

Here’s what I said to a friend: “It can get better.” I was very specific with them. I told them that for me I was able to get “better” through years of therapy, medication, and being lucky enough to have a strong support network. So I gave them a “how”, it didn’t just magically happen. I was also clear that “better” doesn’t mean “cured”, that I still have bad days and I probably always will, but they’re less frequent now, and that in between them I am able to do fun things that I wasn’t able to do before. Telling a person with clinical depression that “actually you’ll never be cured” seems counterintuitively pessimistic, but I find that honesty makes a person a lot more inclined to listen than if you just paint a rosy but unattainable picture.

Also, note that I gave them motivation to get help and stick with it; by hearing my story that of what worked for my similar issues, they’re more inclined to give these things a try (seeking help is often difficult with depression because it’s hard to do anything and you’ve just given up on everything, including the idea anything can help, and it’s easy to get discouraged when something doesn’t immediately work) If I just told them “it gets better” but then no explanation for what to do to facilitate that, it’s unlikely they’d just wake up one day cured. Time can make it better, but only if you’re getting help in that time; otherwise, I’d say it probably makes it worse.

- “People care about you.” I hate this one. Firstly, it implies your life is beholden to other people. One of the things that made me angriest when I was actively self-harming and suicidal was the idea that I wasn’t even allowed to do what I wanted with my own life/body. It felt like people were trying to tether or guilt me into doing something with my very existence (living) that I didn’t want to, and it made me really mad. Secondly, it implies that your life is only of value because other people value it. What about people who DON’T have anyone who cares about them? Those people do exist. There are also lots of suicidal people who BELIEVE that no one cares about them, and a lot of times, they’re not going to believe it when you tell them otherwise. Thirdly, plenty of depressed people know that others care about them, but are convinced that their loved ones will be better off without them. This is frequently the case for me. My mentality is frequently that even though my family loves me and would be sad, it’d really be so much better for them for me not be around.

I don’t really know how to phrase this one better. I’d say be supportive and clear you care about a person, but not to give that as a reason the person should live. Of course, then again, this is EXACTLY the reason that some people are looking for, and it might be totally right to say. So I guess this bullet wasn’t that helpful. - Also for GOD'S sakes don't start telling them how other people have it worse, YOU WILL JUST MAKE US FEEL SHITTIER

So, here’s what DOES work in my own experience

- “It CAN get better” See above. I’d also emphasize that progress is not linear, you’re going to relapse, possibly really badly. This is normal. You’re not a failure. It doesn’t mean you should give up. Also, something I told someone whose depression came from trauma rather than chemical (like mine) is that if you’ve been hurt your entire life, you can’t expect to be totally healed in a couple of years. They had been abused by a family member for a long time and have now been away from that family member for a year or two, and felt bad they were still so messed up. There’s not a timer on recovery. You’re not a cake that gets put in the oven and done at a certain time. Obviously you should be trying and taking care of yourself (not out of a moral obligation, but because you are worth it) but be nice to yourself about it. That’s what I told them, and they seemed to respond really well, so that’s what I recommend telling people.

- “It’s a really big decision, so make it only when your brain is in the right place for that kind of decision.” Again, I realize how counter-intuitive this seems to say to someone who wants to end their life. But I found it effective, and so did a friend I relayed it too. Basically, we both know our brains are fucked up and want to kill us. So pointing out that, hey, if you’re in a really bad mental place right now, you might not be at your best capacity for rational thought even if this seems like the most sensible thing in the world. It doesn’t say you can’t or shouldn’t, it doesn’t try to guilt you or coerce you, it just says “hey here’s a really good reason, which you know from experience to be true, to wait and think about it later.” Now, this does mean that they may wait and think about it later and still do it. But I personally believe that is a person’s right. At least this way, they were probably really sure. I know that’s a weird way of looking at it, but I guess that comes from being someone to whom this frequently does seem to be the most rational and desirable path.

- “You might mess it up, and then things will get even worse.” Basically, there’s a LOT that can go wrong in a suicide, and the after-effects can be HORRIBLE. If you botch it, all your problems are about to get that much worse---hospital bills, disability, brain damage, and dealing with people in the aftermath. What’s more, the most effective ways are rarely the most painless ways. The options suck in my opinion, based on the research that I’ve done while looking for ways to end my life. And if I can’t have a sure thing, I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to risk any of the alternatives happening.

This may seem like a crappy reason to live, but for a person who feels they have no other reason, it can be pretty effective, especially with the promise things could be worse. So, once they’re resigned to the fact “well I guess I have to live, since dying is apparently so hard” then it’s a good time to point out to them that as long as they’re gonna be alive anyway, getting some help would be a good idea. Cuz like, if you’re gonna live, you don’t wanna be miserable, right? That’s why you wanted to die in the first place. Maybe once they have a little more energy from said help, they can take up a hobby, get really good at something, have some kind of accomplishments to be proud of or do something they feel contributes. I know for me, I feel bad about my writing and drawing a lot because it’s not very good, so I frequently don’t try with it, but when I decided “well I guess I’m too chicken to kill myself cuz what if it doesn’t work” I was like, okay, well, I don’t want to get to 50 and still be shit at these things, I should start practicing some more. They’re crap now but to quote Jake from Adventure Time: “Suckin’ at something is the first step towards being sorta good at something.”

So, anyway, I hope this was helpful, and I’m sorry if it was upsetting/TMI to anybody.

#out of cortez #suicide prevention #tw: suicide #suicide for ts

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lanayrusea · 7 years

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aftg gift exchange!

@callron hi i’m your person! i have no idea if this is what you wanted but it’s what i wrote so i hope you like it!! i tried to focus on neil since you said you love him (i also love him), plus renison. (also: i use v minimal japanese in this but in case anyone comes for me, just kno i’ve been studying it for six years. i still make mistakes all the time though lol)

ok please enjoy!! @aftgexchange

By all accounts, it was not a game meant for winning.

It was not a death match. They were not playing a nemesis, or even a friendly rival. They were not playing anyone they knew. It was a Japanese team from Fukuoka touring the States for practice, or fun, or murder. They were one of the first official college Exy teams on record, and had sent an astonishingly high percentage of their players to the Olympics. Kevin had nearly cried when Jeremy told him they shredded USC.

Simply, they were out of the Foxes’ league.

They would have stood a chance, Neil thought, with Andrew in goal, but Andrew was currently out of commission. No one was quite sure how he’d done it, but the monster had somehow managed to contract pneumonia. He was over the worst of it and had returned from the hospital, but still refused any drugs beyond those that were absolutely necessary. Wymack nearly blew a gasket the last time Andrew opened his mouth to complain about being sick. It hadn’t been pretty.

So Andrew was on house arrest, or Fox Tower arrest. Renee had filled in seamlessly during the local scrimmages scheduled that week, but Neil could tell the team had silently come to terms with the fact that their match against Fukuoka would be, in all likelihood, a wreck.

It was not a game meant for winning.

Even so, Neil began to feel his usual nerves in the hours before the match, though there was nothing at stake other than the Foxes’ largely nonexistent dignity. The game wasn’t even going to be broadcasted. From a spectator’s perspective, Neil figured, if you were going to watch your team get slaughtered, it might as well be by another team you knew. Losing to strangers was just embarrassing. And you couldn’t say, Oh, next time. At this point, the only thing keeping the Foxes in the game at all was their determination, as always, to put up a good fight. Wymack had little to say during their pre-game meeting—mumbled something or other about pyrrhic victory—and set Dan on them instead.

“If we can do anything,” she said, “we can make them remember what it cost.”

Renee nodded and said sensibly, “When you put down a dog, the dog still bites.”

For a moment the Foxes stood frozen, then glanced around at each other, all wearing the same expression: Did she really just say that? Am I nuts?

Allison was the first to recover. “Renee, sweetest, we’ll work on your analogies. Dan, don’t worry. We’ll give ’em hell.”

“Do the Japanese have hell?” asked Nicky.

“I will box your ears,” said Kevin evenly, though the question hadn’t been directed at him.

“Do it after the match, Queen Elizabeth,” said Dan. “Okay. We all know our jobs. Renee: don’t even worry about what happens past half-court. Backliners: work extra hard. Neil: dance. Kevin—” He shot her a vicious look, but she didn’t back down. “Don’t overwork your left hand. It’s not worth it.”

Wymack made a noise of agreement. Kevin bristled but said nothing.

“If you need to get mad, get mad. Fuck it, you should already be mad—this is plain unfair. They’re three times our size. There’s no stakes in terms of our actual season, so if you need to punch someone, just make sure I don’t beat you to it.”

Appreciative laughter.

“I know our hopes aren’t high,” Dan said, “especially after hearing what they did to Kevin’s idol—”

Several people said several different things at once. Dan powered through.

“—but I still think we have a chance offensively. Defense: every pass you guys intercept, every shot you block will be a victory, and it’ll make victory against the blockheads in our league that much easier. Neil, Kevin: I want three goals each from you.”

“And?” Neil said, knowing what had to be coming.

“And,” Dan continued, “I know threats of extra drills and runs don’t scare you, you masochistic bastards, so if you don’t score enough, you’ll take turns in goal during our next scrimmage and let Renee and the monster laugh all they like.”

Neil’s jaw dropped. Nicky hooted. Wymack was grinning.

“That’s how it’s going to be?” said Kevin. He sounded riled, which, Neil realized, was probably exactly what Dan wanted.

She smiled. “That’s how it’s going to be.”

“Goddamn,” muttered Matt.

“Keep it together, Boyd,” said Allison.

Dan clapped once, and suddenly everyone was back at attention. “Alright, you heathens! I think it’s time we light this thing. We have nothing to lose, so let’s play like it. Hell—let’s make this the one game Andrew actually wishes he’d played. Renee, have I told you recently I adore you?”

“I adore you too, Dan.”

“Lovely. Coach?”

Wymack stood. “Dan Wilds, you’re a phenomenon. Strikers, that was no joke she just pulled. Three goals apiece. Get out there.”

Neil was going to have to ask Andrew about basic goalkeeping strategy.

The team from Fukuoka emerged onto the court at the same time, carrying their helmets under their arms as though to mirror the Foxes. They were called Hakuchō, the Swans. (“Their mascot is a swan? Isn’t that a little…underwhelming?” “Underwhelming? Have you ever met a swan?” “Have I ever met a swan?” “They’re vicious! They don’t give a shit whether you live or die!” “Are you implying that a swan has tried to kill you?” “Listen, those fuckers come out of nowhere.” “Are we all hearing this? Confirmation of Nicky Hemmick’s near-death-by-swan experience?” “DAN, ALLISON’S BEING MEAN TO ME!”) They looked impeccably prepared; their drills were immaculate. There was a certain quiet about them, too, the kind that came from confidence, not from lack of volume. The thought arose suddenly in Neil’s head: I want us to be that good.

He glanced at Kevin, who was grim with anticipation. Neil knew he felt the same.

Warmups went by fast. Neil listened to the Swans talk to each other, getting a feel for the easy, even sound of the Japanese language when it wasn’t coming out of the mouth of a mob boss. It was a stark contrast to all the languages he knew, which seemed to lean more heavily on consonants. Japanese sounded open-mouthed. He was listening to them rattle off calls and signals when familiar laughter caught his attention.

Neil looked around. Who—?

It was Kevin. He was a few meters from Neil, doing stretches he had made up for his left arm, but he had completely abandoned them and was now leaning on his racquet, stifling laughter. There were also two Swans nearby, looking bewildered. To Neil’s surprise, Kevin caught his breath and spoke to them.

He had completely forgotten Kevin spoke Japanese.

How did I forget something like that?

Neil was about to grab Kevin and get him away from the poor Swans, but unexpectedly, they began to laugh, too. He caught one word that sounded like English: pudding.

From near the goal, Allison said loudly, “I can’t believe it! The queen bitch is making friends!”

From near the Vixens, Aaron said, “Is he dying?”

Katelyn said, giggling, “Aaron.”

A whistle blew, and Kevin and the two Swans left for their respective sides of the court with a last grin. Neil jogged a few paces to catch up with him.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kevin said, then snickered. “God, I can’t even look at you.”

“Me?” Neil ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. The week before, he had run out of shampoo and, out of desperation, used some from an unlabeled travel bottle, discovering a split-second too late that it was old hair dye. He managed to scrub out most of it before it took, but his roots were still tinged brown. Allison had lent him some of her fancy princess shampoo in the meantime (“vegan, of course”), and now he smelled like mint and coconut. (Somehow, it didn’t exude the same kind of power on him as it did on Allison.) But he had thought the team was over teasing him about that.

“Strikers, get to your positions!”

That was Dan—she had lost the coin toss. They put on their helmets and hustled.

“It’s alright,” Neil heard Matt say. “This is still a game, folks! We can’t get discouraged.”

“Yeah,” said Nicky. “Instead, just think of how shitfaced Kevin’s going to get tonight and how funny it’ll be when he drunk dials Jeremy.”

Even Renee laughed at that one.

The whistle blew.

First half was a fiasco. Dan was ready to kill Aaron, who had maybe never cared less about the score of a game, but she stayed furiously silent during their halftime meeting. Matt was breathing hard; he had been running almost as much as the strikers. Allison had undone the numerous braids Renee used to keep her short hair out of her face and now combed her fingers through the waves of it. Renee did not speak or move the whole time, except to drink. She was conserving her energy.

Neil had scored two goals. Kevin had scored one. They were down three.

“Three,” Wymack said upon their entrance, “is not fucking bad.”

“It’s not good,” Kevin shot back.

“Whose fault is that?” said Allison.

“Everyone’s,” Matt said forcefully, before Kevin and Allison could get to each other’s throats. “That’s why it’s called a team.”

“Boyd’s right,” said Wymack. “There’s not enough incentive here. I was pessimistic before, and that was a mistake on my part, but I really think we can put a dent in these guys’ ego. There might not be any camera crews or flashing lights, but I’ve seen the reporters. They’re watching you. They’d be stupid not to.”

Aaron muttered something unintelligible. Neil and Dan glared at him.

“Look,” Wymack continued, “they’re everything we knew they’d be. They’re strong, they’re fast, there’s a fucking million of them. Defense, you’re doing great, but I need more from you. Aaron Michael Minyard, do not test me.”

Aaron scowled.

“Renee,” said Wymack, “I know you can give me more. I’ve watched you work for years now, and I can tell when you’re holding back.”

Renee allowed herself a small smile. It occurred to Neil that maybe she had been waiting for this—for the rest of her teammates to wake up.

Wymack looked around at them. “That goes for all of you. Where’s your effort? Neil, I know how fast you are. Kevin—one goal? Really?”

Kevin flushed angrily and opened his mouth.

“No!” Wymack interrupted. “Offense, you are where our win lies. Don’t just stand there looking surly. Show these assholes you’re the team that’s come out on top, time and time again. Knock them over the head with it. So what they’re incredible? They’re not expecting a challenge. And so far, you’re not giving them one.”

Neil knew he was right. Dan looked ashamed.

Wymack sighed. “You’ve played this game before, Foxes. You’ve played this exact game. How many damn times, I’ve lost count. Don’t make me start thinking you’ve gotten soft.” After a moment, he sneered. “How come no one’s thrown a punch yet?”

Allison grinned wolfishly. She was re-braiding Renee’s hair with deft, confident fingers. “Great point, Coach. Hemmick, don’t let them walk on you.”

Nicky looked startled to be addressed. “Hey, I’m a lover.”

Neil suddenly felt more awake. “No, Nicky,” he said, “she’s right. Their number four—”

“Kobayashi,” said Kevin.

They stared at him.

He shrugged. “That’s what it says on her jersey.”

Neil turned back to Nicky. “She’s taking advantage of your delayed left turn. Your weight’s not evenly distributed. I’m not saying fix it right now,” he added quickly, “I’m just saying don’t let her use it.”

“Switch spots with me,” Matt suggested. “You’ll have to pay closer attention to Renee but I’ll bet the advantages compile. We’ll see if we can trip them up.”

Nicky clicked his tongue. “Carpe fucking diem.”

Dan finally spoke. “Maybe we can turn this into a good thing,” she said thoughtfully. “They were wary of us at first, or at least our reputation, but now they think we’re no hot shit. They’re too good to let their guard down completely, but if we come out hard and fast maybe we can rip a hole in it.”

Neil nodded. “They won’t know what hit them. If they’re too shocked to respond for even just a minute, we can own the rest of the game.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Well, we can,” he said pointedly, then glanced from Aaron to Allison and Renee.

Allison stiffened. “Yes, Highness?”

Neil said, “Kevin” at the same time Renee said, “Allie.”

“No fighting,” said Dan. “Defense is pulling their weight, and if they need help, I can always fill in. They’ve certainly blocked more shots on goal than we’ve made at this point.”

Warning whistle. The Foxes started putting their helmets back on.

“Now’s the time,” said Wymack. “They’re not invincible. Win it right now or go home and tell Andrew how lousy you are without him.”

Everyone groaned.

Wymack grinned. “That’s my Foxes.”

By all accounts, it was not a game meant for winning. But when had the Foxes ever listened to anyone else’s account?

It was not an important game. It didn’t determine their spot in a bracket. The only people who watched it live were there in person. Their opponent was an elite team from Japan whose business it was to slaughter anyone they were put up against. The reporters made sure to put all of it in their columns—maybe the USC Trojans had a rough day, or maybe the PSU Foxes got lucky for the thousandth time in a row. But there was nothing in it for them, and they still tried their damnedest.

And the Foxes still won.

That Renee Walker, one of the journalists said to another, shaking her head. I’m stunned.

I know, said the other. And we thought Minyard was scary.

Neil’s head was a blur by the time the buzzer screamed at him to stop running. He felt like he had been playing against USC again—it was ridiculously unfair how good these people were while still being so sportsmanlike. He was mad that he couldn’t be mad at them. They were so courteous. How could someone be courteous while ramming you into the floor with an Exy racquet?

Needless to say, no one threw any punches.

The Foxes got better every passing moment of the second half, but so did Fukuoka. Neil had been right: they returned to the game with just enough force to shake their opponent’s ground without blowing themselves out. And the Swans retaliated. Just as he began to recognize some of their strategy calls, they stopped using them. Kevin wasn’t playing like he was bored anymore. Aaron wasn’t playing with one eye shut.

And Renee. God, had she woken up. She was a queen on her throne and her soldiers let no one usurp her.

The final score was 8-7, and the last goal was Neil’s.

It was like waking up from a dream. He could see his teammates yelling something to him but the stadium was so loud he couldn’t hear them. He leaned on his racquet for a moment, then ran for the congregation at half-court. Kevin came up behind him and smacked him on the shoulder so hard he tripped. Dan’s laughter cut through the commotion.

“Kevin!”

“Sorry!”

Kevin helped him to his feet and ruffled his half-dyed hair. Neil swatted Kevin’s hand away, grinning, and then they were shoving each other around and then they were at half-court, and Matt was practically suffocating him, and he could hear Katelyn calling after Aaron and Wymack saying, “Natalie Renee Walker!” Matt released him to hug Nicky and he was immediately seized by Dan, who said, “Neil, you devil!” and let him go just in time for them to see Allison grab Renee’s face, pull her from the throng of Foxes, and kiss her full on the mouth. Unless he was much mistaken, the cheering intensified.

When Allison pulled away, Renee looked more flustered and more pleased than Neil had ever seen her, but she also looked like she was about to faint. Breathlessly, she said, “Allie, I love you—but I’m never playing like that again.”

Allison laughed and swept Renee off her feet.

Behind them, Nicky was laughing at Kevin’s expression so hard Neil thought he might fall over. Kevin looked dumbfounded.

“You, uh…okay?” Neil asked him.

All Kevin could say was, “Wow.”

“Nicky,” said Matt, “are you breathing?”

Nicky managed, “He had no fucking idea.”

They lined up for handshakes (Allison almost carried Renee through), then began to head back to the locker rooms. Neil was following Matt in to hear Wymack and get changed when someone called his number.

“Ten! Short boy!”

Neil whirled around to see Swan four, one of the starting strikers, jogging over to him. Kobayashi, Kevin had called her. She offered him a quick bow of the head and said, in lightly accented English, “Sorry for laughing at you, Josten. Before the game started.”

“That’s what that was about?” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I look ridiculous.”

“We have a word for that in Japan,” she said. “Purin-atama. It means ‘pudding-head.’ In Japan pudding comes with chocolate on top and vanilla on bottom, like your hair. But usually we do it on purpose. That’s what is funny.”

Neil grinned. It was funny. “Thanks for telling me. I’ve been called worse names.”

“Your team is amazing,” Kobayashi said. “I’m so surprised we lost! And you’re really fast.”

“Kevin is better,” he said, then clarified, “Number two.”

“Oh, he is good. When I sat on the bench I just watched him. His Japanese is pretty good, too. I was surprised he speaks.”

Neil almost said, I was, too, but caught himself. “He doesn’t use it much. I’m not sure he likes it.”

“Really? If he teaches me some drills I can teach him some curse words. He seems interested enough.”

Kobayashi glanced over his head, and Neil followed her gaze. Kevin was indeed watching them, not surreptitiously at all. His frown disappeared when he saw them looking back.

“Come on, kid!” he called, feigning nonchalance.

“Looks like they need me,” Neil said. “Good game, Kobayashi.”

“Otsukaresama,” she said with a smile and a nod. “Maybe I’ll see you soon, Ten. My team says we want to meet that infamous goalkeeper of yours.”

Neil laughed. “Oh, him.”

“Yes, him. They tell us you two are—what’s the polite way to say? ‘Involved’? Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s in bed with a bad cold because he refuses to take his medicine.”

Kobayashi smirked. “He’ll be in bed with more than that when we’re through with him.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Until next time?”

“Count on it.”

She gave him a two-fingered salute and returned to her Swans. And Neil returned to his Foxes.

#the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg #tfc #aftgexchange #callron #my posts

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drunkenonmysofa · 7 years

Text

BASS & BUBBLEGUM [POPSTAR!Y/N AU] - PART FOUR

++mobile masterlist +b&b masterpost

parts; (one) (two) (three) (four) (five) (six

summary: you’re a world-famous pop star which everyone learned to either love or hate. when a video of you making out with 5 seconds of summer’s bassist leaks, your management decides to make it seem like you’re dating calum.

word count: 3,594

warnings: none that i know of

author’s note: i like this series so far!!! but tbh this part felt so rushed im creasing at my badd grammar but anyways i feel like i made y/n into an asshole lol uhhhhh enjoy??!!?? (i still dont know how to end these things)

A good night’s sleep is what usually prevented you from short temper. When your management told you that you could have a five-month break from touring to write your songs for the next album, you were ecstatic. Especially since this meant you could sleep as long as you want on most days of the week.

Despite nothing interesting happening in your life, you found yourself always inspired so that you could write songs for your album. Even though in the long run, your producer would dub it as too vulnerable for your pop insignia, the sugar-coated version of the phrase, ‘it’s absolute shit’. This never stopped you from writing your own material, though. It was discouraging at times, but you had to admit that it was fun recording pre-written songs that you came to like.

The whole writing process involved famous song writers that wrote solely pop music. Sometimes, if Lancelot was feeling generous, he’d let you write with them. Most of the time, the writers were incredibly thankful for your ability to create songs that made their jobs easier for them. The fact of the matter is, the lyrics were either too political or ‘edgy’ for a popstar to sing, and the song ends up getting trashed.

Occurrences like those make you want to either cry or walk out of the studio in anger, but you had to stomach it in since you’ve already signed the contract that held you in the management for another two years. Maybe then you’d make the music you’ve always wanted to make.

After the fight with Calum, he didn’t make an effort explain why he said those nasty things, more so on what he was ‘bitter’ about, but you weren’t really surprised. What’s surprising you is that Nina called you to go to the studio with 5 Seconds of Summer to co-write and record one of the songs that’s going to be their next single. Apparently, you were going to be singing with them, too.

“I don’t think I can.” Call it childish, but you try to make yourself sound sick anyways, coughing right after you finish your sentence. You couldn’t look at Calum, not after everything that’s happened a few days ago. “I’m sick.”

“No you’re not.” Nina sighed through the phone, immediately calling your bluff. “That’s not how you sound like when you’re sick.”

You groaned. “Let me rephrase, I don’t want to. I’m sick of Calum.”

“Well, you can ignore him. You can talk to the other boys, I’m sure they’re nice.” Nina said, trying to convince you to go. “It’ll be good PR. Your fans would love the new song. You can come by the studio after lunch.”

“I’m releasing an album in five months. They can wait.”

You could sense Nina’s annoyance radiating from the phone pressed against your ear. “You can write whatever you want for the song. Just see if the band likes it.” She said, her tone deflated and defeated.

Relatively, you rolled your eyes at it, but you can’t help but feel a little pity. “Fine, just this once.” And besides, writing was one of the favorite things you did, so why not give it a try?

Even though you still didn’t want to be in the same room as Calum Hood, you were happy to meet his band mates. Ignoring the thought that they might be just like Calum, you enter the recording studio of the band with a smile on your face and a cup of warm coffee in your hand. The excitement of writing with other people and other producers always overcame your pessimist thinking, making Calum the last thing in your head right now.

As you walked to the door of the studio, you could hear the laughing of guys on the other side. You could almost see them through the fogged glass doors. Nevertheless, you knocked so at least they would know that you’re about to enter. As you opened the door, the band’s laughing quieted down, noticing your arrival.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” The one with curly, light brown hair, Ashton, said before standing up from the couch and shaking your hand. He smiled with the smile that you always saw in his pictures. “It’s nice to see you! We really love your music.”

You blushed, smiling at his compliment. “Thank you, really. I love your band’s music too.”

Looking around the rather spacious studio, you noticed that you’re not the only girl here. There’s another three that you don’t quite know, but you smile at them anyways and they return their gorgeous smiles to you. As Michael and Luke introduced themselves and joined you and Ashton’s conversation, you notice that Calum isn’t here.

Michael must’ve noticed you looking around the room in search of a certain Maori. “Calum went out to get some food, by the way.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, sitting on the wide sofa and the other boys followed suit.. “Shall we start?”

“Calum usually needs to be here since he’s the main writer of the band.” Luke said, looking up from his phone briefly before returning his gaze back to the device.

“Yeah, we kinda need to wait for him, if that’s okay with you?” Ashton asked. It baffles you how nice they were compared to Calum. If he spent most of his time with them then why wouldn’t he inherit their kindness? But you don’t think much of it. Instead, you nodded at Ashton’s question, reassuring him that it’s no problem.

“And you haven’t met the other girls yet!” Michael said, overly enthusiastic about the fact that you’re here. He gently tugs at your wrists to make you stand up from the couch and walks you over to the other end of the room where the three girls are. “This is Bryana, Ashton’s girlfriend,” He lets go of your wrist to point at the girl you thought was gorgeous enough to be a model. You smiled at her as she stood up and wrapped her arms around you.

“Hey! You’re so much prettier in person!” Bryana said, her arms hugging you firmly before letting you go and sitting back down with a bright smile on her face.

“Thank you so much.” You blushed at her compliment. “You’re a lot mire prettier than me, though.”

Before Bryana could reply, the girl beside her with colorful hair stood up and briefly hugged you, too. “Hi! My name is Arzaylea.” She shook your hand with a soft smile on her face. “That lanky blonde is my boyfriend.” She said before pointing to Luke, who was still stuck to his phone. “And Bryana is so right, you’re so pretty.” Arzaylea complimented, sitting back down next to the other girls.

You couldn’t help but blush at her compliment. Michael walked over to the last girl, giving her a peck on the cheek before introducing her. “This is Crystal, the absolute love of my life.” He said, smiling at her.

Crystal playfully pinched his cheeks before standing up and shaking your hand, a lot more laid back than the other girls. “I’m Crystal, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you girls, too.” You said, addressing the three of them as you shook her hand.

After a few minutes of small talk, you decide to go back to where the other boys were, striking up a conversation on how they want the song to sound like. You knew they relied heavily on lyrics and instruments rather than electronic music, you honestly envied them, but since you were writing a song with them, you figured you were going to know the basics.

“Do you play guitar?” Michael asked, taking an acoustic guitar that was on a wall stand and handing it out to you.

“Yeah, I’m a bit rusty, though.” You shyly replied, taking the guitar by the neck and resting it on your lap.

“We usually start with a tune and build from there.” Michael said, sitting down next to you. “But we need a theme first.”

“A theme?” You question, wanting them to explain further.

“Yeah! Like, a city or unrequited love. Y'know, the works.” Luke speaks up and puts down his phone. “Maybe we can try a breakup this time.” Michael and Ashton agree and asked for your input. You replied with an ‘I think I can do that’ before they’re reminded that Calum needed to be here and they reserve the songwriting for a few more minutes.

You smile, fiddling with the guitar and trying out a few chords before the boys talk about how amazing their upcoming album is going to be. “How many songs have you written so far?”

“Twelve.” You hear Calum’s voice say as he’s walking into the room, tossing everyone, including the three girls who are engaged in a conversation about a TV show, a burrito from what looked like Chipotle. You hear a chorus of thank you’s from around the room before he’s facing you and handing out a burrito in front of you. “You want some?”

You face contorted in confusion before giving him an answer. “Yeah… thanks.” Hesitantly taking the burrito out of his hands, you can’t help but shoot him a look of confusion before awkwardly averting your gaze. You don’t catch his reaction and suddenly, you feel your excitement for the writing drop in the sight of him. “Uh… can we start?” You quietly asked Ashton as he’s about to bite into his meal.

“You’re not gonna eat?” He replied to you with a question, biting into his burrito anyways and gesturing you to take a bite.

No, I’ve quite lost my appetite. “Maybe later.” You said, feeling Calum’s gaze on you as you try and shrug it off by playing a few chords on the guitar on your lap. Ignorance seemed to be bliss as you tried to not be bothered by his presence.

“I’ll help you get started.” Your head perked up to Calum, who was seated on the sofa chair a few feet from you. His face held a soft smile, one that you’ve never seen in person before, and this made you quite speechless. A few seconds of awkward silence between you passed before Calum sat next to you, everyone oblivious to what was happening as they were too engaged in their own conversations.

You, however, wanted to run out of the room as soon as Calum had the balls to sit next to you after everything that’s happened. But you try to bury the thought at the back of your head, thinking about how good for business this is and it was nothing personal.

Sighing, you turned around and faced him, the acoustic guitar still in your hands and a half-hearted smile on your face. “Okay.”

There you are again with that word, Calum thought. He didn’t know what was going on with you, but he’d already apologized. What else did you want? Still, he took the notebook off the desk and started flipping through the notes. After finding the right page, he held out the black notebook to you rather hesitantly, feeling a little insecure on sharing his writings to people other than his best mates. Especially you. “It’s… still unfinished and the chord progressions are all wrong. All I’ve got so far is the first verse. I don’t even have a title yet.”

You took the black notebook from him, reading the lyrics in his messy but fathomable handwriting. Your stoic face slowly turned into a small smile as you read his lyrics. “You wrote this?” You glance at Calum before returning your gaze back to the notebook. “This is amazing.”

Calum gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks.” He said before asking you if you could add a few more lyrics.

“I think so,” You said, resting the guitar on the coffee table. “Do you have a pen?”

Calum nodded slightly before giving you the pen he retrieved from the pocket of his black ripped jeans.

This time, you don’t hesitate to take the pen from him, jotting down a few lyrics in a hurry as you noticed Calum struggling to look at what you’re writing. In the heat of the moment, you scoot closer to him, almost immediately feeling the warmness of his sweater-clad body. What you didn’t notice, is that Calum tensed up as you made contact with his physical body since the last time you saw each other. “So you’ll see the notes better.”

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop staring at you. How some of your hair fell on your face when you eyed the notebook in concentration, the way you would poke out your tongue at the corners of your mouth, and at how pretty you looked in the studio’s dim lighting.

It wasn’t until both of you were half-blinded by a flash that Calum broke his gaze off you.

“Mate, what the fuck?” Calum said, irritated at the pale, blonde boy sitting on the couch across him. “Did you just take a picture?” He inquired before shooting Michael a look as he laughed along with Ashton.

“Some PR stunt,” Michael nudged Ashton, making him laugh once more. “Adam’s gonna love this.” Michael said before posting the picture of you two on Instagram.

On the other hand, you were practically oblivious as to what was happening. While the three boys, Luke, Michael and Ashton, chuckled as they looked at Michael’s phone, Calum was shooting glares at the boys. This eventually bought you back to reality, realizing that you were so close to Calum that if he turned to face you, he would be inches from kissing you like he did in the video that started it all.

So you jolted up, immediately feeling heat rush to your cheeks as you put down the pen and notebook on the coffee table in a hurry. “I’m going for a walk.” Grabbing the coat off the rack, you quickly exited the studio, leaving the remaining people in the studio speechless.

“I’ll talk to her.” Calum said aloud before following after you.

You chose to keep walking away from the building, lucky enough to have no fans outside the studio. You chose to keep walking away even though you heard fast footsteps behind you. You especially chose to keep walking away when the person called your name in attempt of getting your attention.

“Y/N, please. Just come back to the studio.”

The tone of his voice makes you walk even faster, the urge to just avoid him growing stronger. It wasn’t until he was walking next to you that you stopped. “What are you doing?”

“Walking with you.” Calum didn’t stop walking until he noticed you halt, turning back slightly to meet your cautious eyes. “Are you coming?” The Maori held his hand out, his brown skin looking a little bit more golden in the presence of sunlight. You’re stuck wracking your mind on whether you should take his hand or not, still somewhat awkward with the thought of talking to him after everything that’s happened in the car.

It’s got you thinking that maybe you were overreacting, that it was just plain teasing and that you should accept his apology. But could you? You didn’t know Calum very well in the first place. For him to act like a total asshole to you on the first ‘date’ surely changed your opinion of him. You didn’t know if he’d try that shit again or not in the future.

Instead of taking his hand, you ask him one question that’s been in your head for a long time. “What happened at Josh’s party?”

“I’ll tell you if you’ll walk with me.”

The smile on his face reassures you that he’s telling the truth, so you take a chance. But you don’t take his hand, proceeding to walk next to him instead. Still, the smile remains on his face because he got you to agree, his hand falling to his side as he started slowly walking on the sidewalk. Luckily, the studio was located somewhere in the suburban part of L.A., making it easier for the both of you to talk without fans interrupting.

“So?” You looked up from your gaze on the asphalt ground to meet his brown eyes. “You gonna tell me or what?”

Calum tore the eye contact between the two of you, making an expression that you considered as disgruntlement. “I don’t know if you’ll freak out like you did last time.”

“If you don’t insult me then I might not.” You said with a slight twinge of sarcasm lacing your voice.

“We were both high when we went up to Josh’s room.” Calum started, making you somewhat nervous based on the tone of his voice. “It looked like you were already tipsy before I even introduced myself. We went to the couches and smoked some weed. Then we went upstairs because you said you wanted to sleep.”

You huffed. “The video. We were making out. How did that happen?”

“You really don’t know what happened?” Calum raised his eyebrow at your inquisition. “You pulled me upstairs and started kissing me.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

Calum squinted at the light of the sun that was shining in his face. At this point, he didn’t know if he was getting annoyed at the sun or at you for not recalling a single thing that occurred that night. “Yeah. I didn’t know the door was unlocked. That’s why the video leaked.”

“And what happened after?”

The question hangs around the air for a few seconds before Calum hesitantly answering. “You passed out while we were still making out. Then I left. Nothing happened between us, don’t worry.”

His hesitance and delayed answer made you wonder if he was telling the truth or keeping something from you. “Is that all?”

Then he smiled and nodded slightly, figuring that you could find out more in the right time. Both of you had to go back to the studio anyways. “That’s all.” He said, intentionally keeping the memory of you drunkenly telling him that you thought the songs he wrote was, quote on quote, something that no one can take seriously along with other words that threw daggers in his chest. But still, it was just words. He needed to get over it anyways. Right?

After Calum told you that the both of you should get back to the studio, you agreed. In the midst of walking, a title for the song that you’ve been writing with him popped up in your head. “I know what the title of the song should be.” You told Calum, glancing at him for a mere second. “Broken Pieces seems to be a good one.”

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