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chocominnie · 3 years

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One Last Time 04 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01 02 03

⇢ Word Count : 4.7k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Last night can’t get out of your mind. It’s not like you to do such a dumb thing. Kissing Jimin... you didn’t know what had gotten into you last night. The last thing you’d ever want to do is have someone go through the same thing you did with Jimin when he had cheated on you. Your mind raced all night thinking if that kiss, that one sole kiss, would make you the bad guy? Make this whole situation worse?

Wrong.

Both of you were vulnerable and just not the same. Of course you’re still tender to the subject of and about him, and forever will have have a soft spot for Jimin. You didn’t expect that to happen though.

‘‘ Yes.. Yes.. Okay.. I understand.”

You drone on for the millionth time today. Only 9 am and calls are making their way to you. You’ve been caught. Someone spotted you and Jimin last night walking to your apartment. Luckily the pictures were only garage scenes of you and him. Jimin’s head hanging low trailing a distance behind you while you hold your sore arm. Thankfully, by the looks of the new articles every damn hour, they think that you had hurt yourself and Jimin was supposedly there for you for comofort.

The fanpages are going to have a field day with that.

Your manager continues to lecture you about how this could start a scandal, how you should of been more careful, and finally that those words everyone has told you before. He wasn’t good to you, move on.

‘‘ Listen im just going to be with Ryan today and she’s bringing Jungkook. We are heading over to Ryan’s office to discuss things and what not.’‘ You sigh into the phone, wanting to hang up already.

Your manager on the other line is hesitant for you to go, but gives in once you say you’ll only be an hour in and out. That’s the only way you’ll get to go out today. Whenever small scandals like this brew up, the management company would make you stay low for the next three days.

You both say your goodbyes and then hang up. Finally. Somewhere in the room Clara lets out one of her tiny meows making you smile to yourself. The day planned ahead is way more exciting than you worrying to yourself

‘‘ Baby please. I have to go’‘

Isabel smirks lowly while shaking her head. Jimin watches her intensively as her hands roam all around his now bare chest, that was covered with a shirt two minutes ago.

‘‘ Jimin, you and I both know that we haven’t had much time to ourselves lately.’‘

Her dainty fingertips trace over his forming abs one by one staring him straight in the eyes. He bites his lip hard just before letting out a useless groan with his head thrown back in the chair. It’s true. With all the celebrity show appearances they’ve had, the quality time together has been cut short.

He ries to pry her hands away from his jeans but it’s no use. “ I have to leave, Jungook wants me at Ryan’s office in twenty minutes.”

Her face turns into a pout, lifting her hands from his jeans. ‘’ So he’s more important than your girlfriend?’’

‘‘ Well I mean he is my blood broth- Fuck!’’

It’ was quick enough to where he didn’t feel it coming. Before he knew it, his jeans were unbuttoned and her mouth glides across the imprint of his shaft hiding behind his boxers. “ We can stop and you can leave.. if you want..” She knows exactly what shes doing by making sure her voice is low and those round eyes meeting his.

His groans only become louder when she takes a long, slow lick from the base to the tip. There’s no way on hell he’ll miss this opportunity to get some head. Jimin’s craving for sex has been high lately and with no time to recieve pleasure, he damn sure wasn’t gonna let up this offer. “ Fuck that. Keep going my love.”

Grabbing a fistful of Isabel’s hair, he yanks his boxers down revealing his thick, hard member hat springs up to his belly button. Isabel smirks at him just before taking the whole thing down her throat making Jimin moan out louder in pleasure. The sound of sucking, wet noises fill the studio’s ambiance.

Jimin watches her intensely while letting out low groans and growls as her bobbing head becomes quicker. This isn’t what he wants truly. What he wants is you. You is who he wishes who’d be pleasuring him right now. The way you’d sometimes gag on him when his dick filled your mouth completely was something he’d always enjoyed seeing. The way your eyes water with him stuffed in your mouth but determined to go on was a major turn on for him. He wants you and only you. Right now in this moment Isabel doesn’t mean shit to him but you do.

He can’t help but to lean back in his chair and close his eyes waiting to chase his high, all with the thoughts of you and your guises past sexual encounters turning him on even more with the lost track of time in the back of his mind.

You on the other hand, wait with Jungkook and Ryan who are getting a bit anxious waiting for the boy’s arrival. You of course didn’t want him to come. It’ll only make things more complicated than it is right now. Essentially you were going to leave when Jungkook said he’d be inviting Jimin.. yet again.

Seeing as though when you were on your way to the office, you had glanced at the clouds and could see a big thunderstorm brewing. You’d rather not take your chances of being rained on while walking back to your apartment.

‘‘ Geez where is this guy? He’s always late ever since he’s been with Isa-”

A shove by Ryan shuts him right up before finishing his sentence. Ryan gives him a glare and a few utters of words to him before turning back to the giant window that gazes over the bright nightlife of Seoul.

One part of you wishes for Jimin not to actually show up but the other does. Just to see his face and reaction too you ever since yesterday. But just for the sake of it, you won’t bring it up. Play it off like it never happened.

‘‘ Was it really necessary for us to come at night? We couldn’t of just come during the day?’’ Jungkook says, walking over to her.

He snakes his arms around his waist placing gentle butterfly kisses around her neck. The reflection off the mirror shows her facial expression, a slight smile as they sway from side to side. A ping of happiness shoots through you at the sight of them. It reminds you of you and Jimin. That happiness quickly shuts down.

You smile to yourself, “Well i’m a model, Jungkook and his brother are idols, and you’re an upcoming fashion designer dating said Idol. ”

Jungkook clears his throat before placing his arm gently around Ryan, “ Yeah she’s MY girlfriend.’’ He says proudly. Ryan shakes her head while playfully rolling her eyes.

You giggle along with her. It’s only been a short while since he’s asked her and he seems so happy and proud with her. Something you wish that Jimin wouldn’t have ruined for you two.

‘‘ Nobody knows we are dating and If paparazzi catches you coming to my office it’s going to stir up something rather it be little or not.’‘ Ryan sighs, sitting down next to you on the white couch.

Jungkook pauses to be silent for a second but continues on, “ That would happen regardless because paparazzi comes out at any time of day. We just so happen not to get caught.’’

Your frail hands begin to play with the sleeve of your shirt at the wrists. Something you do when anxious but trying to keep calm. You’re starting to get annoyed with this couple talk. You’re happy for them but rubbing it in is starting to hurt a bit. Where is he at?

‘‘ You know what im tired of waiting. If he comes he comes. If he doesn’t oh well we already knew he’s an asshole because of that girl now.” Ryan scoffs.

She folds her arms as she leans onto Jungkook who’s now sitting on the arm of the couch. He chuckles at her pouting and sudden anger just before giving her a kiss on the forehead.

You take in the sight of them. Two love birds that mean the world to each other. You wouldn’t dare want nor try to break them up. You knew Jungkook has been waiting for that moment to ask her. When he did on that day Ryan couldn’t of been even more happier.

And if as on cue, that familiar face comes in quietly with two large brown bags in his hands. You choose not to make eye contact with him when he stops infront of the couch, glancing at you.

‘‘ Im sorry im late. I bought food for us..” He pleads for forgiveness. If it was up to you then you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Hell, you still don’t want to forgive him for that act last night. Yet you can’t be a hypocrite because you’re just as guilty.

Jungkook takes the bags from him due to the way to familiar scent coming from them. Jajangmyeon. His favorite noodles of all time. A quick way to earn his forgiveness of anything.

‘‘ You are forgiven don’t let it happen again,” He says, smiling ear to ear as he pulls out his serving of noodles.

Ryan hands you a pair of chopsticks and your serving of noodles. You thank her and look down at the bowl. If you did eat it that means you forgave him, if you didn’t that means you wont. Your mind doesn’t know which one to pick.

While everyone sits there talking amongst themselves you sit there with chopsticks in hand zoned out. You seen the hickies when he had came in. When he had tilted his head announcing his arrival, thats when you saw it peeking from under his scarf. that The dark bruises peaked up and back into hiding whenever he moved.

‘‘ You don’t like the noodles?” Jungkook says, taking a big bite of noodles then slurping them up.

Ryan gives you one of your guises code looks but you give one back to say you are fine. ‘’ Im sorry I was just zoned out.’’

You don’t engage on any of the conversation instead you sit there eating your noodles quietly until they’re gone. That is until the real reason why you are here is brought up.

‘‘ We are here because me and Jungkook have thought about you guys.” Ryan glances at the boy who’s now wiping his face free of sauce.

Great. When are people going to stop doing that though?

‘‘ Ryan come on now, I honestly don’t care. He’s happy with her and I am with myself. Im serious. Please stop thinking about things like this. Im happy can’t you see that! ‘‘ By this point you know you’re all worked up.

It isn’t the truth, but you just want everyone to stop worrying so you could move on. Bringing the whole situation up all the time is draining for you and you’d rather not be reminded of Jimin and what he does and how he’s doing.

Jimin keeps quite with a stare that’s intense on you. You stare right back at him with an emotionless expression. The both of your eyes never leave each-other but you knew it had hurt him. Saying that you’re fine but he knows you’re bothered a lot.

Jungkook sighs heavily, “Baby-Cheeks don’t get all upset now. We are just worried solely on you. Even Jimin is and we all came to an agreement to have this civil conversation right here and now because all of it needs to be addressed.”

You cock your head slightly to the side not leaving Jimin’s eyes. You knew for a fact that this entire conversation is his doing just by Jungkook saying that last sentence.

“ I told you to stop worrying about me. I really meant it. I’m fine. I am F I N E .’’ You spell out the words, then shake your head clearly pissed off.

‘‘ But you aren’t. You constantly lose focus and don’t talk as much. Im worried for you so much that it pains me to even see you like this.” Jimin bites his lips to prevent from breaking down. You know that expression all to well.

That still doesn’t mean he should be worrying about you. You two are no longer together and no matter how many times you scream it to the top of your lungs each time, nobody listens to you.

‘‘ I am fine. I promise you guys. I’ve just had a comeback and they set me on a strict diet for the next few months and I go to the gym more than I used to because that’s what us models do. Since I have been absent for a year now my break time is over. The reason I zone out is because I have a busy schedule and sleep is whenever I can get it so that makes me tired often. I am fine.”

Your explanation is partially true and you do feel bad for lying on some of the parts but knowing them they will keep doing whatever to make things right. It’s time for you and them to stop worrying about Jimin and your relationship with each other.

The group doesn’t say anything after that. You tried to keep the best serious tone you had to explain that to them. Luckily they fell through and believed it. All except Jimin.

‘‘ Now can we move on? Is everything okay now?” You ask, looking at both Ryan and Jungkook. They both shake their head slowly still unsure of what to think.

‘‘ Well since that is over with, lets all take our leave yeah?” Ryan sighs, collecting everybody’s trash from the food. You nod your head and begin to help her while the boys go somewhere in the room to talk privately together.

You don’t care enough to want to know about what they’re saying. As long as they don’t bring anything of worriedness about you again then it’s okay. Soon after the room is all cleaned up you grab your coat and scarf. Jungkook grabs Ryan’s and helps her into hers, zipping it all the way up.

‘‘ My baby can’t catch a cold.” He giggles before placing a kiss on her forehead. Ryan turns a deep red in her cheeks as he continues to dress her properly for the snow outside.

‘‘ Can we talk privately again?’‘ A quite voice says behind you. You knew it all to well. But you don’t turn around at all while slipping your coat on.

‘‘ I’ve thought I made myself clear. I don’t need to say it again. Please just accept it.” The maroon colored scarf is gently placed around you from behind.

You grab his hands to stop him but he’s quick enough to come in-front of you and begin to wrap it for you. “ You lied. You can fool them but not me.’’

You break his hands away from the scarf, making sure to glare at him before you storm out of the office. All of the pressure and just concern in general is getting to you. It’s not like you to get worked up to this point. You hate making scenes and you knew that when you left like that it’s going to spark more curiousness.

The heel of your black suede thigh high boots click down the hallway fast as tears feel the brim of your eyes. Why wont they just leave it be?

After taking the long way out and going down three flights of stairs from the emergency exit, you make it down to the lobby and out the rotating doors.

When you do you almost choke out a whimper at the sight at Jimin greeting Isabel with a hug in which she pulls him down to a deep passionate kiss while waiting in-front of his car.

He was just upstairs dressing you properly, but kissing on her a few minutes later. Typical Jimin.

You bite your lip hard enough for the taste of blood to fill your mouth to prevent from crying right then and there. You can’t show her any sign of weakness. This is what she wants you to do. Cry and breakdown in-front of her to gain victory. She can’t have it. She wont have it.

You slip your hands into the coat pockets and begin your journey down the street. Catching a taxi would be no use. The cold harsh wind mixing with the hard drops of rain feel euphoric but numb to you.

‘‘ What are you doing? You’ll catch a cold for walking in this type of weather!” A voice yells far from behind you.

You don’t bother to look back at him. You up your pace just by a little to get that voice far away from you as possible. He kissed you last night, but kissed her right infront of you. The lump in your throat is sore and your heart hurts with each step you take. Is this how the game goes? It hurts. It hurts a lot.

The wind blows harsh and the rain blows on your face making your makeup wet but not smeared. The mascara running down your face doesn’t matter from your wet tears.

The stop lights turn yellow, red, and then green a couple of times. You count the number of changes before walking past it. Three times total.

Yellow

Red

Green

then back again.

The thunder roars causing you to jump a bit, but you’re numb to any noise around you anyways. You sniffle repeatedly to stop your nose from running but why not just let it run? Why not just let everything go. Let yourself go. Yeah that sounds about right. Let yourself g-

The blackness of your vision is sudden. No chance to react when the sound disappears from it. To the ground your body goes, laying there in a puddle of water. Your eyes blink slowly when you wince in pain upon bringing your hand up to your head. Vision goes in and out, in and out. You can’t hear the disorted person above you screaming and shaking you just before blacking out again.

The look of horror on his face and adrenaline runs through his body as soon as your eyes close. He thinks it’s his fault. His fault for wanting to keep talking to you. His fault for kissing you last night. His fault for stressing you out to your limits for you to walk home instead of asking him for a ride.

Running his hand through his hair, he slowly picks up your limp body. He saw that fall, and that fall was hard. You slipped on a decent sized amount of a dirt and mud mixture from not paying attention. Tears roll down his eyes when he places you in the passenger seat to buckle your seatbelt where your chest rises up and down. A sign of life.

The ride to your house is hell for him. Constantly hitting the steering wheel out of anger from himself and crying loudly wishing for you to be fine and okay. The hospital wasn’t an option right now. If paparazzi saw him taking you in unconcious right after the small scandal, he’d be sure that he’d be on the news for the next two weeks for supposedly abusing you, which isn’t the case.

It doesn’t take him long to arrive, considering he was tokyo drifting through the streets of Seoul. Laying your body on your bed, he sees the bottom of your outfit is dirty with mud. At first he hesitates but keeping muddy clothes on you wouldn’t be right of him.

After picking out some sweatpants, he moves on to your hoodie collection and spots one in the back of the drawer folded into a ball. Jimin lets out a small laugh when he realizes its one of his. It must of ended up here in transit when packing from the old apartment.

Nevertheless, he decides it’s that one you’ll be wearing and not anyone of the others. When it comes time to undress you, he looks away when taking off your clothes and putting the new clothes on. He tucks you in when done, planting a small kiss on your forehead just before going to get an icepack for you to place it on your head.

The sound of cartoons playing in a distance wakes you up. Your eyes stir open until full view. The throbbing of your head makes you wince a little. You’re just as more confused as to when you made it into your apartment let alone your room.

‘‘ You’re awake?’‘

He places the icepack on the back of your head but when he goes to grab your hand to make you secure it, your heart skips a beat when his soft hand touches yours. It’s been a while since you last had his warm touch against yours.

The thoughts in your head stops when he lets go of your now cold hand. ‘‘ Why are you here?” You say, finally looking at him.

‘‘ You fell. You fell on a puddle of mud while crossing over to the next sidewalk.” He sighs, eyes staring at you with anger yet relief. Instead of fighting back for the sake of your throbbing head, you just look down.

Thats when you notice the new set of clothes on your body. You certainly weren’t wearing this hoodie before. In fact you knew for a fact that this particular hoodie was balled up in the back of your dresser drawer. It’s his.

“ You undressed me?” You yell, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You pull the cover closer up to your body out of embarassment but Jimin doesn’t care. He’s more worried about the fall than the undressing.

“ Do you fucking know how got damn worried I was?” Jimin walks over to you with his arms crossed and jaw clenching. You want to hide right about now. “You’re more worried about if I was a pervert or not but news flash, I didn’t even look at you while undressing you. I’m not the asshole you think I am.”

Silence is golden.

‘‘ We all shouldn’t have been out there with a storm coming, but we came to the office for your sake. You keep putting yourself at risk, just stop!‘‘ He semi-yells at you.

You know he’s correct but that doesn’t stop you from forming the lecture into an arguement.

‘‘ Risk? I don’t take risks unless necessary. I was just minding my business and walking home. I guess I wasn’t mindful for that the weather wasn’t suitable for walking. Thank you for tending to me.’’

The boy scoffs with a sarcastic smile on his face backing away from your bed. You close your eyes knowing you shouldn’t of said that. ‘‘ Wasn’t mindful? Really? Why can’t you just listen to me whenever I need you to?”

‘‘ You were with Isabel. I don’t have anything to do with your guys relationship at all. I didn’t want to seem like a threat to her. ‘‘

Jimin sighs and rubs his temples, ‘’ You know you’re hard headed right? Do you think I give a flying fuck if she was there or not? You health and you yourself are important to me. ‘’

Here we go again.

‘‘ I said don’t worr-’‘

Jimin raises up quickly with anger and sadness written all over his face, ‘’ I don’t care what you say. Fucking listen to me when I say so! I’m going to worry about you until the day I die and cannot breathe anymore! Accept it okay?’’ He semi- yells, chest heaving up and down fast.

You keep your eyes away from his. You knew it would happen. You knew he would blow up somehow today.

‘‘ Im not going to accept it. Want to know why? I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I have to accept the fact that you no longer are in a relationship with me Jimin. You need to too.’‘

Jimin sighs, pacing back in forth across the wooden floor while running his fingers through his hair repeatedly, “ I was hoping it wouldn’t have to be like this. I’m not letting it happen anymore. From now on I will be checking on you everyday. Understand?’’

‘‘ No I don-”

‘‘ Understand?’‘ He growls, head whipping towards your direction.

There it goes. Pissed off Jimin. The side of his dominance that he dares anyone to overpower.

‘‘ Jimin you cannot come he-”

He shoots you a glare wanting his question answered now. You bite your lip making sure to shut the fuck up at this point. Anything you say after you know would do damage. ‘‘ Do you. Fucking. Understand?’‘

You nod your head. When he becomes like this there isn’t any way to stop him or change his mind.

‘‘ Good. Im not leaving for the night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Woah Jimin. Okay that’s too far. That’s considered cheating on Isabel.”

‘‘ It’s not. Not if im not with her anymore.’‘

Your heart jumps at those words. Not with her anymore?

‘‘ You honestly didn’t have to break up with her for me.”

You know you’d honestly feel very bad, but not as bad because she honestly deserves it for being a homewrecker. Then again, what does that make you?

‘‘ We technically are on a break. Im planning to break up with her in a couple of days.” He says, turning the blaring hot heater that was turned on prior to you waking up, onto it’s low settings.

You decide that’s enough of questions and to just enjoy his company there while it lasts. Putting the cover back down, you pick up your phone from the nightstand. A few texts from your manager, a missed call from Ryan. By the looks of it they both don’t know what happened and that somehow relieves you.

Looking back up at him, you notice him turned around about to take off his shirt. His back muscles are evident and flex whenever he moves. You miss those. The way they’d feel under your hands and nails when he used to be ontop of you giving you the best nights of your life.

You hadn’t known he had turned around because you’re too deep in thought recalling those nights. “ Im assuming you like what you see?”

So you’ve been caught. “ No. Put your shirt back on.” Its a lie but you can’t admit to daydreaming about him.

‘‘ Hush im just changing into new clothes.’‘

You watch him go to your bottom left dresser and it all clicks to you. Back when you both shared an apartment Jimin kept extra clothing for emergencies always in the left bottom drawer.

You don’t know why, but you felt that it was tradition to put his extra clothing inside the bottom left drawer when you moved into here. Jimin had left the box of emergency clothing, on accident, with you as the both of you moved out.

When things had arrived here and you started unpacking you had seen what was inside the box. Instead of calling him to retrieve it, you just placed them in the bottom left drawer of your dresser in case something had ever happened where he was in need.

And that scenario just so happened to play out today.

You close your eyes as he casually slips his pants off in front of you. You want to peak but choose not to. ‘‘ Why are you covering your eyes? You’ve seen all of me before.”

And you want to see it all again.

‘‘ Yeah whatever. Im sleepy.’‘

You rub your eyes and let out a quite yawn. You can feel his eyes staring into you so you turn to face him while getting comfortable under the covers.

Jimin turns out the lights first and then the t.v. Pitch black just how you like it.

‘‘ I forgot how cute you can be.’‘ He shakes his head, pulling you closer to him to where you’re laying on his chest with his arms wrapped around you.

His heartbeat is relaxing to you. So relaxing that soon enough, the both of you are fast asleep tangled in each-others love.

Once again, you fell for his sweet-talking and little white lies. All because you want another chance, one last time.

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beomglocks · 3 years

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what soobin is like as a boyfriend

warnings & other: none i just love him but let’s be honest who doesn’t, this gets cheesy in some parts bc he just gives off stereotypical kdrama bf vibes but guys he’s the one

w/c: round to 1k

ok first off

sorry if i rant soobin is my baby so ofc i think he’s the perfect boyfriend

he’s so

ugh

ok when you meet him he’s a shy boy

like really won’t wanna look you in the eye

ok like super fucking awkward

like painfully and you’re like “hahah ok that’s cute”

that only applies if you look intimidating tho

if you’re one of those people who’s blessed with not having resting bitch face he’ll be flirty

well you know..

he has his own methods of being flirty

he’s charming in his own way

probably does what yeonjun does but more subtle

stares

will stare at you

and when you make eye contact he smiles and rubs his lip with his finger DJSJSKDK PLZ

alternatively: looks away, purses his lips with a smile, ears get red, looks back up to you already looking at him then he waves

youre left like

“omg he’s so fucking cute”

ok but actually like he will reel you in without you even knowing

next thing you know you’re laughing at his lame ass jokes

god forbid you think he’s funny

“you think I’m funny? well we should date” :)

wait im pretty sure he said he doesnt go after someone unless he knows they like him back

tbh he’d probably wait until you make the first move

or wait until you show interest or else he’ll just hide his feelings

you have to bring him out of his shell

once you do...oh boy

100% never leaving you alone

always telling you how much he loves you

he’s the sweetest

teeth rotting sweet

i feel like he would slowly open up to you during the relationship

he’s not like automatically into it if that makes sense

shy to initiate things at first

such as kissing and touching

asks you if it’s ok first

we love consent

free samples kind of guy

dont take him to an ice cream shop or shops in general

he will devour the free samples

next thing you know you’re leaving with goat cheese and the newest ice cream flavour

he gives hopeless romantic vibes

would want to bake with you in the kitchen

and i know this sounds cliche but

flour fight

he’s cute with it at first

just rubs some flour on your nose then next thing you know

“we turned our dog white”

he’s a simple man

however

he probably spoils you

but not like expensive item type of spoiling he isn’t extravagant

god forbid the price range of any of the items he buys you exceeds his actual paycheck

cute gifts that you’ll actually use and cherish

i dont see many fights happening with him tbh

maybe if you question his leadership choices then i can see a fight happening

for example if you think he couldve handled a situation better in a certain way and you point that out to him he’ll get all defensive

“im the leader of my group dont tell me what you think is best for my group”

then you’re just like “well shit fuck you too i was just tryna help”

i can see him distancing himself after a fight if you’re also feeling a bit aggitated

doesn’t talk to you until it’s literally 2am and neither of you are sleeping bc yall always cuddle and you’re not cuddling him

he’s always the first one to say sorry

my god he makes fun of you so much

not on a beomgyu level though

more of a “if you say something silly i will make you feel so dumb for the rest of the day” kind of clowning

wow jealousy

i feel like he’s not super jealous unless he feels threatened

everything was fine until the fire nation attacked

once he sees you getting a little too buddy buddy with someone else he’s like nah i gotta shut this shit down

he’s humble but once he’s jealous he’s all braggy to make himself seem above who ever was trying to get at you

“yeah i think we ALL-”

boy do you have to comfort this big baby

he’s sensitive :(

hold him and rub his head on his off days

tell him he’s the best boy and it doesnt matter what anyone else thinks screw them

he laughs like

“shouldnt i be comforting you?”

soooooooooo sappy

cliche asf boyfriend

buys you flowers

if he could he would be doing the whole radio outside your window thing (side note: yeonjun would too be he’s whipped asf)

college bf (we saw it coming)

see also: college bf who helps you in what he can and tells you to screw math bc you don’t need it anyways

shows up at your school or job after his practice

everyone loves him

everyone

you gotta be on guard 24/7

i wouldnt say you’d be insecure per se but soobin definietly lacks awareness when it comes to being flirted with

he recognizes others advances but laughs awkwardly, forgetting to tell the person he already has a partner

~cue mild argument~

at the end of it all he’s like “dont worry i only like you jeez”

if he’s working on a song he asks for your input

or rather how would you interpret a certain emotion that he isn’t able to convey

just to joke around, if he has to write a song about heartbreak but neither of you have been through that he’ll be like

“well there’s a first for everything :)”

soobin 100% takes the time to learn about your culture

he’s invested what can i say

introducing you to the other members isn’t THAT bad

but they definitely clown soobin

txt: “how come your partner is cooler than our own leader”

“maybe they should lead us instead” (joke)

soobin’s like fuck yall i can be cool :(

always send you cute selfies

with messages along the lines of

“i miss you :((((”

“bring ice cream on your way back!”

“be safe tho xxx”

he gives embarassing dad vibes

you can’t introduce him to your friends !

since he has you around he isn’t too shy and once he engages in conversation you better pack your bags

he’s trying to be funny (keyword: trying) but really it’s just your friends laughing to not make the hot idol bf not feel bad

you help him with his script for music bank

speaking of music bank

yes, yes, you are clowning him like the rest of txt and he comes home like

“not you too :(((((((”

hueningkai

my goodness hueningkai

yall tussle over soobin’s attention

sometimes it feels like youre sharing soobin with kai

you love them both but youre like “kai sweetie it’s cold and i wanna be the one to cuddle my bf so please”

speaking of cuddles

best cuddles

ones where he’s wearing a really comfortable sweater that’s actually nice material and your face gets buried in his chest

his limbs will be tangled in yours no doubt

but wow he’s so warm you almost never wanna let go

they don’t call him “home” for nothing

tall boy

makes fun of you if you’re shorter than him

yes he does tease you by placing items on higher-than-you-can-reach shelves

kick his shins he’ll give in

you: ”hows the weather up there”

him: “nice actually but you wouldnt know now would you :)”

tell him your problems, tell him anything

he will listen

and i mean let-you-ramble-for-hours kind of listen

but at the end of it his input is always valuable and he isn’t judgemental

he’s a good listener and gives good advice!!!

he’s not the leader for no reason put some damn trust in him!

#choi soobin #soobin #soobin imagines #fluff #soobin reactions #soobin drabbles #soobin drabble #soobin fluff #txt imagines #drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcanons #soobin headcanons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #soobin timestamps #soobin fic #soobin x reader

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 3 years

Text

@spanglespants said:

Personally, you are the reason I'm planning on at least one of my fics to include Prof just being out of touch instead of purposefully neglectful to being forgetful. Actually I may redeem him in For a Smeet's Sake' at some point still have not decided how if I do yet. But he did notice something important in the chapter I'm working on. He'll get there.

Oh lord! That makes me SO HAPPY!

I know that Baddadbrane used to be a more popular take in the fandom. Just cause I feel a lot of people project their parental issues onto him...

But I think what makes Professor Membrane a relatable character for me personally, is that he isn’t intentionally malicious and he makes a lot of mistakes. Some minor, and some huge.

He’s extremely scatterbrained, neglectful and sometimes he can just say entirely the wrong things.

He misses most social cues and a lot of his traits are very common to someone with autism (aspergers especially, which is why me and @paketdimensioncomic made the decision to give him that particular form of autism in our Fics.)

Like me writing Redemption arcs for Membrane and focusing on him as a character study is not me trying to say:

“Oh he’s trying guys... look at the poor suffering dad.. we should forgive him.”

Like that’s not what I’m trying to say. Like people who think that about my fics don’t know me that well.

Membrane has the most character shift from the show to the Florpus and he can be an extremely nuanced character when you look at him.

Professor Membrane in my fics and stories are basically me looking back on my parents from an adult point of view, as well as looking back in my childhood.

Because I know as a kid, I would have 100% related to Dib and probably would have not liked the science man if I had watched the show when I was ten years old when it came out.

I think it’s important that Membrane LOVES his kids. He adores them and would literally do anything for them.

And before you say, “he has put Dib in the crazy house multiple times”

yeah, that’s a huge mistake.

But people forget that Dib attacks children in class. Like way before Zim ever showed up to earth. He chased and cornered a hairy kid up the monkey bars, bullied a kid and said his dad was a yetti, and has a LARGE file in the guidance counselors office ...

By the time that the SHOW STARTS.... Membrane is used to Dib’s shananigans.... and he tries to be supportive....

Membrane’s dismissiveness here always kinda spoke to me: “ah, I’m used to this... oh well, boys will be boys, what can I do, I’ll just let him have this...”

People always forget that Membrane isn’t entirely dismissive of Dib here. Like he agrees with Dib that, “Yes, maybe there is possible life on other planets... but not INTELLEGENT life... and if there IS intelligent life out there.... they are way too far away in light years to engage in communication with Earth”

Like Membrane doesn’t dismiss the idea of aliens... but he sees aliens that exist in the show, something that is entirely science-fiction.

Membrane doesn’t really understand encouraging imagination in his children... (like Dib is still 9-10) Especially since Dib’s imagination leads to him hurting and being harmful to his other classmates.

The only reason I feel that he’s so adamant on the: “THERE ARE NO ALIENS” in ETF is because he’s dealt with Dib’s behavior for years over these things.... so.... Yeah... Membrane got frustrated and said “I’ve TRIED to be patient with your unscientific interests...” and by that point... he had been... Like Membrane lost his arms and has probably listened to and tried to be accepting and accommodating towards his son the best he can... (like why would Dib be a chair otherwise... Membrane sucks at putting down boundaries)

But can you think of the amount of trouble that Dib causes and what he has to answer to...

It’s not like Dib is engaging with a hobby like art or writing and Membrane is like: “you need a career in a respectable field, son.”

That is not what is happening here.

Dib’s hobby is one where he is ACTIVELY ATTACKING AND HARMING OTHERS.

What else is Membrane supposed to do? He’s trying his best to encourage Dib to engage in a less harmful and more productive field. He just wants his son to be excited about what he’s excited about... And I believe he’s completely unaware of the pressure this really puts on Dib...

Why do you think he said in ETF “I’m always proud of you” BECAUSE HE IS!!!

I think Membrane is completely unaware how much of his encouragement towards “real science” is more harmful to Dib than helpful. But even in Mopiness of Doom.... as much as Dib being involved in his science makes HIM happy, it doesn’t make DIB happy... so he lets him go to “catch that alien” without forcing him to stay.

Membrane is obviously devastated that his son doesn’t want to work with him... but he’s not intentionally forcing him to stay or takes that out on his son... He blames himself for how Dib turned out. (and he should, honestly at points) but hindsight is 20/20 and he needs to learn a lot more as a father...

He made a mistake in how he handled Dib’s harmful obsession by just letting the Crazy House for boys handled things... He should have honestly talked to his son personally about this.. Like, “why did you push that boy off the handlebars” “the skool told me you were bullying another kid” “I hope you’re not roughhousing with your little green friend too much...”. But Membrane doesn’t really know how to handle emotions and feelings and conflicts... This is something he actively is working harder to improve on..

I do think elements are there for Membrane to redeem himself and even then, Dib and Gaz don’t have to forgive him if they want, not really.

Here’s an expert from Me and @paketdimensioncomic ‘s ARM’s fic about the “wishing isn’t scientific son” scene in particular, it’s not cannon, but it might as well be, and it’s probably his thought process (he tried to reach out to his son when he stormed off angry afterall)

I think Membrane is a very complex character, just because there are two iterations of him and he’s really the only character in the franchise to actually get character development.

I know people when the Florpus movie came out said that version of Membrane in ETF was “dishonest” to his portrayal in the show... but I really think it’s showing that he is trying. And The Comics showed me that’s the Membrane that’s here to stay.

He has a lot to learn... Obviously... I am still dissatisfied with how ETF ended with the “All’s well that ends well” ending, but I always like to see the different directions people like to take the bumbling Professor in.

He’s just constantly tripping his way through parenthood, and I want to see him try 10000000% harder.

In Conclusion: “Professor Membrane tries his best but still kinda sucks at parenting” is peak characterization for him and I love that more people try to write him like this now instead of intentionally malicious.

#Invader Zim #Professor Membrane #Wow I really launched into a rant there #I just love him a lot #danachan's rants #danachan's analysis

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stellaestra · 3 years

Text

how would stray kids interact with mc in high school if they ever met? // high school au headcanons [stray kids/reader]

pairing: skz hyung line + mc [reader]

description: who would mc interact with in high school if they ever met? what kind of interactions would they have? // bulletpoints headcanons + small snippets

genre: platonic, high school au, friendship, humour, hurt/comfort

author’s note: this could be a stand alone or not, the mc is the same bodyguard/intern au!mc...it's just a "what ifs" kinda thing, fellas

p.s. some of the scenarios are based off real life events that happened to me in high school but i overly exaggerated some of them for the shit and giggles,, tell me which event actually happened to me in the askbox lmao I'm curious

pls I'm funny i swear

cw: minor swearing, just teenagers being teenagers, idiots, mention of blood (?) uhh mentions of violence (??)

unedited

// no beta read, we’ll die like men

---

bang chan

mc is a '00 liner,

she doesn't interact with her seniors pt.1

to interact with them; it would have to be a school event or a collab project between the seniors and the juniors

possibly would be approached first by chan during sports day or a school festival for something

he thought that she's a pretty decent track runner when he saw sprint during the sports day track event

after that incident, chan would greet her in the hallways or wherever if he ever comes across her

mc would always awkwardly greet him back

“hey! you’re that really fast track runner, you did great that day!” chan complimented her in the hallways. out loud.

mc prays to whoever above there that chan would stop talking so loud as she could feel her face burn when she felt eyes on her.

cue to her awkwardly smiling at him and nodding, “yep, that’s me, yes, alright, senior chan.”

chan finds her adorable ever since that first few encounters

he also found out that she hangs out with felix just as much as he does

(love rivals (for felix) arc when)

he doesn’t know who to be envious of

that mc gets to spend so much time with lix or

felix being able to spend so much time with her

the never-ending saga

(love rivals (for felix) arc turned into possible rivals to friends arc)

(okay, im joking)

their respective friends group made a running joke

about how chan and mc are love rivals for felix

(it eventually became theirs as well)

(it's funny)

once he made her go off-tangent about felix

she was really passionate about his freckles and smile

for a moment

he really did think that she has a crush on him

no surprises there tho

felix IS absolutely cute

(friends arc?? omg, all for felix, HA)

he really really finds her adorable

he could go on for days

esp her little habit of covering her mouth when she speaks

sweater paws bc he almost always sees her with a jacket on even if it was a hot day

it's like a second skin on her

he once asked her if she ever removes her jacket

“only when im on school ground or during school events like assembly, i’ll take it off, senior chan.”

“eh? don’t you feel warm underneath that during a hot day?”

“...i do remove it sometimes, i guess...but i like wearing it bc it’s comforting.”

one time chan saw her without her jacket and wears short-sleeves uniform, he really wanted to shower her in his affections n also it’s such a rare sight that he almost couldnt recognized her

“haha hey, you didn’t wore your jacket today!”

“they’re in the laundry and...today’s a hot day...unfortunately, haah.”

he once tried to ruffle her hair but found her dodging his hand so fast at breakneck speed

that he was kinda concerned

she told him that her hair hasn't been washed yet so it's dirty

but the thing is: she told him every time he tried to ruffle her hair

“you’re not letting me pat your head on purpose.”

“senior chan, i wouldn’t do such a thing.” he noticed the little teasing smile before it disappeared.

he wondered briefly if she has always been this playful and cheeky with others her age

chan is aware that she speaks formally towards him out of habit though so he lets it slide and let her take her time growing comfortable with him.

he knew she was lying but let's her be anyway

bc she's his cute little junior

---

lee minho

another case of mc's "no seniors juniors interaction"

minho’s very attractive so mc will definitely avoid him at all cost

plus, he looks intimidating to her so bye bye

to not step on any of her classmates' landmines that has the hots for him

drama isn't her thing, she already witness a handful and even got thrown into the fire as fuel before

no thank you she liked having her life in high school as peaceful as possible

mc would make her conversations with him very short n blunt

she's not gonna catch anyone's hands today, my dudes

really, she doesn’t

minho thinks of her like a small kitten that needs to be taken care of

bc of how she always scutters away from chan whenever he’s with him

if they ever interact

it would be when the juniors have the collab with their seniors

like a science fair, where the students have to come up with things to showcase

his class coincidentally collabs with her class for that particular event

he told chan about it and he have never seen chan pout and deflate like that

the only person he does that to is felix...if not, it’s jeongin.

chan sure adores this little junior other than felix huh…

then again, felix and mc does hangout a lot and so does jisung and her

so he took this chance as to know more abt her

coughs because jisung seems to be talking a lot about her coughs

(minho + mc love rivals (for jisung) arc pt. 2 when)

(mc really about to fight 2 seniors because she's stealing their respective juniors huh)

(the never-ending saga of love rivals)

he approached her inside that shared classroom for the collab event

she looked constipated when he approached her group of friends

even more so when he directly asked for name and whatnot

it kinda made him want to tease her even more now

he found out her name and what they were planning to do

heard her cursing under her breath

he decided to join their group on the whim

found out that mc is just a little shy whenever he approached her

her friends are somewhat protective of her

he got glared at by one of them once when he wanted to greet mc in the hallways

and mc kind of hid half of herself behind them

so whenever she’s on her own, he would try to approach her as slowly as possible

like. dealing with a cat and you’re a stranger trying to gain their trust

what he never will forget nor stop teasing her was about

her spinning on her heels to walk into the direction she was previously coming from

just to avoid him

he couldn't help but find it hilarious

he won her over when he brings the topic of cats wandering around their school campus

saw how her eyes lit up brightly

“the stray cats here are fun to play with, right?”

“yeah, me and friends decided to name a few of them too!”

he mentioned it to her because he saw her playing with the cats when she was waiting for someone or when she has time to play with them during recess

and the ramblings of a high schooler about cats commences

he wasn’t bothered about how much she talked

would nod along with what she says

because wow, shes really passionate about cats

that's a huge bonus for minho

and that was how minho adopted another kitten

whenever they weren’t busy with their own things, they would play with the cats together

playdate with cats <3

she would tell him that one particular grey cat was called

“this cat’s name is miss universe! they’re so cute, right?” she picked the cat up and cuddle with it, eyes sparkling with joy

“why did you guys name them that?”

“because why not?”

“fair enough point.”

and she laughs

he was glad that she stopped being so cautious around him if he was being honest

since the way chan was talking about her so affectionately made him really curious about her

casually mentions that jisung talks about her a lot

expected her to be bashful about it

but all she does was

“oh, cool, what did he say? I’m a weeb? Hah, he’s the same as I am” + "he should've said to it my face, senior minho, hmph"

so making her flustered backfired on him

poor minho

here’s your “you tried” star

mwah

so yeah, minho adopted a new cat (his little junior)

---

seo changbin

same case as the two above, unfortunately

if they do ever interact, it's short and pleasantries

mc does kinda find him intimidating to certain extent

she's not good with dealing with intimidating looking people

but when he smiles, her shoulders feel less tense when she interacts with him

thinks of him as a pretty cool senior

he made her listen to his rap once n she told him that he's so cool n that stuck with him for days

imagine a junior telling you that you're so cool with that starry-eyed expression

your ego would go off the rooftop

after that, changbin would make it out of his way to greet her in the hallways

RAP MUSIC BUDDIES???? POTENTIAL

pat her on the head occasionally

if she doesn't dodge like hell away from his hands

“why do you keep avoiding them”

“no, don’t pat me, you’re treating me like a cat”

“I’m not?” lies, ever since minho told him that she reminds him of a cat, he really thought about it more

“you have that same look minho gives me when he tries to pat me…hyung…”

“we’re really going to make you call us oppa one day, watch us”

“um, yeah, no.”

“let your cute senior pat your head!!”

“im gonna run away!”

he knows that the younger ones in their friend group do interact with her

esp felix and jisung

for innie’s circumstances, that’s different

she does comes to him every once in awhile to abuse her title of his cute little junior to get a chance to listen to a teaser of his raps or songs he composes

found out that she does like rap songs! a lot more than he thought

they became those friends who shares new songs they found out and share it with each other

even at ungodly hours like 2am in the morning

that would not stop them

“this song reminds me of you”

“hey hey hey listen to this, psst”

“This shit SLAPS, go listen or else im gonna fight you in the school hallway, coward”

he became smug about it and boast about his knowledge to 3racha

jisung complained that he thought she only listened to anime songs or soft indie songs because he saw her playlists before

changbin told them that she has other playlists that’s for more “intense and aggressive” songs

they were floored and the conversation starts like this,

“what do you mean she likes listening to yours and ours music and raps?”

“im not kidding, she does! she even showed me her playlists that were filled with rap, rock and metal songs!!”

“my little mc? likes those songs? are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

“it’s a public playlist, i even followed her playlists”

“If you’re wrong, hyung, im really gonna fight you on this! bc I KNOW her first”

“doesn’t mean that you know her BETTER”

lots of petty bickerings

chan and jisung has a big revelation about mc that day at school

(there goes mc’s little rep within their group of friends)

he did warned them to not tell her that he told them about it and

that they actually are aware of her music taste

or else

she tried to rap really fast one time, trying to rap like how he does

he had to witness her biting her tongue live

changbin would never think someone like her would have

such a vulgar language

every profanity he knows came out of her mouth

he quickly got her something to soothe her wounded tongue

after fretting over her though, he started teasing her

relentlessly

she threatened to sue him

"I'll sue you"

"with what money?"

"my 2 fucking dollars lunch money!"

"that's not enough to pay anything, not even your attorney!"

"fight me!"

he’s that older brother figure that mc would come to whenever she has no one to tell her woes to

their relationship turned out to have lots of playful banters and teasings

he gives very comforting hugs and pats

mc doesn’t want to admit it tho

well, until, changbin caught her snuggling into his hugs one fine day

“admit it, you like them, you like my hugs”

“okay, fine, i DO like them, they’re great hugs, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I KNEW IT”

“You’re so loud, shut up, hyung!”

“OH MY GOD, YOU FINALLY ADMIT TO IT, IM GONNA TELL THE WORLD-KSDFNKSDNF-”

"FUCK- I SAID, SHUSH"

rip in peace, changbin

he didn’t expect someone like her would have so much strength to smother his mouth with her hand and shut it

the more you know

curiousity killed the cat????

---

hwang hyunjin

avoidance at all cost (pt.2) despite being in the same year

why? exhibit a: he's considered very attractive in her year and that her classmates n batch mates have crushes on him

coughs one of the school princes coughs

their batch year prince

she's really gonna swerve away from him

interactions will be kept at a bare minimum

one time hyunjin n some others wanted to borrow a textbook from their class because they have forgotten theirs n he chose hers

she could feel cold sweat forming as she feels the death stare of some of her classmates

that gta [wasted] sfx whenever ur character dies

yeah that's mc

that was probably the last time she would even think about it

when he returned it back to her, he smiled at her, the really cute eye smile and she felt like she made the target on her back bigger lol

goodbye mc you've lived a good life

your friends will definitely will play never gonna give you up during your funeral (it's a promise)

jokes aside

hyunjin would probably noticed the panicked look in her eyes and wondered why

since his friends like felix and...jisung...and seungmin are like on good terms with her

he probably wondered about it a lot

borderlines on overthinking since both felix and jisung are particularly close to her

so she should know that he’s friends with them

ever since that encounter, it would come across his head whenever he saw her hanging out freely with felix or jisung or both of them

or when he come across her in the hallways

sometimes he wants to greet her but it feels like it would scare her away

esp when she looks ready to run into the opposite direction

if he ever made eye contact with her

so his plan to befriend mc has started

tried to join into the trio hangout; jisung, felix and mc

mc never did protest his presence like at all

but does occasionally look stiff when he's near her

eventually shes comfortable enough with him

but not enough to actually hang out with him alone though

that thought kind of made him feel envious towards the other boys

and a little left out

as a teenager, he has too many emotions to handle so

jisung and felilx caught the idea and told him to let her

take her time because she kinda. shy. (???)

that didn't stop him from mulling over it tho sometimes

one day he found her waiting at the bus stop

it was in the evening, she was still in her school uniform

he was kinda on an errand run too

kinda didn’t want to sit on the same bench as her

afraid that she might run away

she noticed him standing there eventually albeit very anxiously and kinda awkward

a casual greeting slipped past her lips which shocked hyunjin to his very core

he splutters back a reply

“on an errand run, errand boy?"

"huh?"

“uh, um, pretend that i didn’t say anything.”

“right, sure, but may i sit next to you, the bus seemed to be late and my legs are kinda tired.”

“oh, uh, yeah, sure, but you didn’t have to ask, y’know?”

“well, didn’t wanna scare you off…"

“it’s nothing personal, if that’s what you’re worried about,” + “it’s just. didn’t wanna step on a landmine and the girls in our batch seemed to adore you a lot and me being close to you might set off the wrong signal…?”

“that’s absurd, you’re...being unreasonable..i mean, its none of their business-!”

“i know, im sorry, my bad, it’s not your fault either, it’s not anyone’s fault, to be honest.”

for a moment, he found her reasoning to be petty and unreasonable until it finally clicks inside her head, from her point of view when he really thought it through.

“...no wait, im sorry, i think, i kinda get why when i really thought about it.”

“yeah, it’s no biggie, don’t worry, im sorry too, we’ll both get over it”

“...um, we’re friends, right?”

“...i suppose so, if you dont mind, dummy.”

a giddy smile crossed his face while mc struggles to not stare at him looking so cute like that as she coughs into her hand, avoiding eye-contact

pretty boys have too much power in their hands

and she’s one of their fallen victims towards their charms

this isn’t fair for her heart

so when the bus arrived

they sat beside each other on the bus

hyunjin did most of the chattering while mc listens

he was so glad he cleared smth up with her

if she allows it, he would definitely tried to hug her

until he remembers that one time changbin told him he almost got punch in the face by her

when he tried doing it the first time and startled her

yeah no not now

maybe sometime in the near future, a long-awaited hug would be great

(if he was honest tho, he really wanted to cry when she told him the truth)

(it felt like a heartache)

but it’s okay now though

they’re friends now (somewhat) and that’s all that matters

---

[masterlist]

95 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 3 years

Text

would you (III)

pairing: jimin x y/n

wordcount: 6k

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

or the one in which love isn’t one-sided anymore, jimin realizes his feelings, and yearning for you is what keeps him awake.

would you by pink sweats

part one | part two | part three

Both oddly yet unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s become a constant in your life.

For starters, both of you were lonely and needed someone, even if it’s by the sidelines. The equivalent of white noise and an extra pillow to put by your side so you’d feel surrounded.

Funnily enough, Jungkook’s as good as a mainstay in your life as you are with him, providing company and warmth with no question. It’s as if he’s always been your friend and you never met each other in such desperate measures.

Given that, sure, maybe you and Jungkook don’t fuck each other as often and it’s only occasional now at this point, but the conversation stays and lasts. It’s the routine of him pounding into you as he talks shit about the pressure he feels fron rival companies that aren’t even worth his time, and you talking about how thankful you are that he’s accepted you into his company and that you can’t be any more pumped to start.

That’s his cue to (very nicely) threaten you to shutting up if you still want to cum, and him talking in between broken grunts that you’ve earned the job both for your credentials and skills and of course the potential — not some dumb luck of having him as the CEO of the very company you’re chasing after, being friends with benefits with to the title of best friend.

To put it simply, Jungkook’s your platonic boyfriend of some sort. The both of you are dead sure that you don’t like each other in that way, and that soon enough, the two of you swear to flush out the libido so you’d stop hooking up.

It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’d stop cracking “that’s what you said” jokes and you teasing him about his whining.

The two of you are so compatible that it makes you forget about your dynamics with Jimin and how you’re even more compatible with him. His name’s only thrown around carelessly for good measure and not for drunk half-sobs from yourself.

It’s why Jungkook’s forcibly sat down on your floor as he eats his chicken wings, banned from the couch because you swear on his life that he’d regret his whole existence once he stains it. He has absolutely no choice but to pout and sit on your rug you haven’t vacuumed in awhile when he could easily buy you a new and better one if he does stain it.

You’re too engrossed over a movie because you don’t want to listen to Jungkook and his surprisingly strong moral compass, him already knowing that you’re deflecting this altogether so you could attempt to avoid the inevitable.

“Ignoring Jimin doesn’t mean you’ve moved on from him — do you know that?”

More than he’d likely admit, maybe Jungkook does have a taste for the emotions and the dramatics. He’s always been more in tune with it, but it had no place in the real world. Instead he gets his fill and spends almost all of it with the people he’s comfortable with — his family and a select amount of friends.

You’re the closest thing in real life he could ever relate to a reality show (although you always deny that your life is as eventful as it is), and Seokjin’s running to replace you in your spot because he always seem to get him even though they bicker the most, always smiling with his hyung because maybe, just maybe, Jungkook likes being taken care of.

Of course he’s observant. He wants to know you emotionally because knowing you physically so well doesn’t exactly coincide with the fact that you’re moving away from that phase in your relationship per se. He should absolutely know what’s with you furrowing your brows outside of the bedroom, know what’s tinkering with his best friend’s mind and not only relate it to when he hits your sweet spot from down under.

As soft as he sounds in contrast to his obvious demeanor from being in such a place of authority and growing up with everyone’s eyes on him, Jungkook’s grown to take care of you. It’s massive growth in his part for the past month because he learned that maybe he shouldn’t really take all of his life alone. Maybe he needs someone.

He’s not rushing for marriage and to be honest, if only the two of you weren’t platonic and you weren’t the farthest thing from being in his likes in that way, that would be the only time he’d look at you beyond as a friend. Companionship doesn’t need to equate to romantic relationships and that’s perhaps one of the many things he’d been lacking.

You like Jungkook as an addition to your life. You’re no stranger to strikingly-handsome best friends — Taehyung and Seokjin and of course Jimin are the living proof, but only the last part is who you’re unsure of.

And maybe yes, maybe Jungkook’s right. Maybe you can’t always avoid Jimin forever but you know that but you’d die on that hill because you can’t see yourself caving soon. Missing him yet not wanting to see him are the things you juggle with.

“Either side with me or you can get out of my apartment.”

He sputters when you slap his hand away and take his portion for yourself and audibly complains of how come you can sit on your couch and he can’t, forgetting that it’s your apartment and your couch that he’s talking about.

You’re also forgetting that he’s your boss, your superior, and your CEO. Although it becomes official by Monday, you come to your sense and sheepishly hand him half of it back.

You’ve quit the bartender gig but that doesn’t stop you from dropping in to work sometimes. Because maybe Jaehyun misses you a little that he pretends not to see when you sneak in a drink or two free of charge, and Seokjin misses you and his pride nowadays doesn’t deny him from saying that he misses you.

Jungkook kinda panics at that because not only does he not want to go home to his massive penthouse by himself where he can eat all that he wants on his couch, but he also needs the company and watching a crappy movie with you would give him a good night’s sleep.

“Look, look! All I’m saying is, from dude to dude or whatever, is that anyone could see how much he misses you.”

It’s your turn to slightly panic and you don’t know what to take from that, visibly caught in a daze as Jungkook takes the sweet time to slither from the floor to the couch.

He’d know that actually, because two weeks ago when he came over after a long tiring day and he just wants to be buried in you, Jimin just happens to aiming for you door too.

Jimin was second-guessing the whole day whether he should come over to your apartment unannounced and how you’d take it, but once the urge to visit overpowers, he certainly didn’t expect this guy.

He didn’t come empty-handed and there’s an outrageously tiny boquet he’s sure that you’d like because you found them obscene and adorable right inside his backpack. He doesn’t have the slightest clue inside his mind why you haven’t been yourself lately, or maybe it’s just because he refuses to believe it as it is.

Jimin’s cocky at first and that’s what Jungkook can clearly see, not resisting the amused scoff leaving him at the aura this other dude gives off.

“You two fucking?”

Jungkook laughs at that, both because he’s taken in surprise and also because it’s the clear answer.

“You wanna know?”

Actually, he’s starting to realize that maybe fucking you isn’t the only thing he’d like to do. You honestly seem pretty cool for a person, and he wants to befriend you! You’re level-headed as far as he knows, and the argument that’s flowing in his head is clearly different from the one in Jimin’s.

The older boy’s visibly frustrated, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to be civil.

“Look, I don’t know-...”

To put it simply, Jungkook has the knack of messing with people from time to time. Now may not exactly be the best time for it but he still takes the opportunity, ignoring the way Jimin’s gaze at him burns him down enough.

“I’m down for almost everything. Though I’d have to ask if Y/N’s game for a threesome or-“

“God, no! I-...”

Jimin resists the urge to bite back a snarky remark, opting to crack his knuckles using the same hands as he wants to be as level-headed with this as much as possible.

Namjoon coming out of his own apartment would be very convenient right now to diffuse the tension even if he’d feel it himself, yet your blue-haired neighbor doesn’t come out any time soon and neither will any of them back down.

He’s still a reasonable distance away from Jungkook who’s still standing in from your door, staying there because this whole scenario intrigues him that he figures that his desperations could wait a few more minute.

“Has she been eating properly? Sleeping? Still working?”

That’s a surprise.

Jungkook’s pleasantly taken aback with Jimin’s sentiments when it comes to you, a gentle smile on his face that maybe he’s not as bad as he thought of him.

Granted that yeah, he’s not the one who harbors unrequited love for him unlike you, but from what he can observe does he think that sometime along the way — of you going out of your way to get out of Jimin’s, is his change of heart

“Mhmm. I think. I don’t exactly live here.”

That’s all the silent reassurance he needs that you and him aren’t a thing, the relief in his heart unexplainable because the last time he checked, friends aren’t supposed to be this relieved for the other’s lack of a partner. It’s almost as if Jimin wished and prayed that Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Cool.”

“Nice.”

He has his hands on his pockets as he twitches where he stands, Jungkook’s eyebrows raised because he knows all too well when someone’s hesitant to leave.

Jimin thinks it’s for the better if he retreats for now even if it pains him, planning to come back another day in better circumstances. Pondering about it, maybe this is a good thing. Keep his thoughts organized and his mind running, then try not to think about what’s probably going to happen as soon as Jungkook enters your door.

“Bye, Jungkook.”

This whole encounter truly cracks him up, finding it amusing as he leans against your door just to prof further.

“Searching me up? Dropped by the company? Don’t tell me you bought the latest magazine with my face on it.”

Jimin scoffs and he could tell that the both of them have atleast loosened up to each other and he doesn’t feel the urge to throw him down the floor like what he learned. But scoffing doesn’t take him away from the fact that yeah, okay, maybe he did exactly what Jungkook implied.

“Not like I wanted to spend my money on an overpriced issue. ‘Course I need to look out for Y/N.”

He pleasantly hums as he brings out his phone, about to text you to suddenly open your door right now with no questions asked. “That’s not your job.”

“And it’s yours?”

He shrugs at the condescending tone Jimin gives him, taking note to tell you about this interaction sooner than later.

“Never said it was mine.”

Jungkook backspaces his text until it’s blank, wanting to type a new one yet he stops in his tracks just to listen.

“Well then good. Because it’s mine.”

Jimin sounds so sure despite the ruffling his backpack gives when he readjusts it on his shoulder, swiping underneath his eye that he’s done out of habit and effectively taking out the last bit of eyeliner since he went here straight from a shoot.

You never actually said it was his, but he feels this obligation; this pull.

It’s a commitment he’s given himself, suddenly whispering to himself when all he’s done in the past minutes was to be accusatory with his sharp voice.

“It’s always been mine.”

bar this weekend? it’s also jin’s birthday soon and i’ve got some free shirts from this shoot that’s his size

we can put both our names on the card, i won’t tell :D

then split a sundae and some brownies, my treat!!

i’ll crash at ur place tho i still have a sweater or two left there

Jimin sighs to himself, making the makeup artist for a second that she’s the reason why he’s so huffy and the dabbing of the sponge to his cheeks don’t do anything to make the situation better.

He’s sighing, not because he’s run out of pride. Not because he used to find double-texting an ultra desperate move. Not because he now doesn’t spend a second longer thinking to send a message. No. He’s sighing because he feels that you’re so out of his grasp.

He can’t do anything about it currently, now that he’s in a shoot the director had to beg him to be in because in the past week, all that Jimin’s done is deny one offer after the other.

Normally he’d feel ecstatic that he’s becoming even more in-demand, but in truth, none of that matters when you’re the only one he’d be eager to have a meeting with. He’d take you over a designer shoot anytime without skipping a heartbeat, even if that means Yoongi, his agent, lose his shit over before curling up into a ball.

He’s booked yet he lets the chances slip from his fingers. Nothing could be any more important than you.

He’s hanging on by an insistent line of desperation actually, taking the time to skim through his phone’s camera roll and his Instagram archives to look for you, put you on his story, and leave people wondering.

If he was lucky enough then you’d add it to yours, and if he wasn’t then he’d be faced with nothing and a hundred other reactions that didn’t come from you, a full day left to soak in the pain that he doesn’t have your undivided attention.

Jimin knows that this was wrong -- knows that it’s selfish of him and his approach isn’t always the best, but he’s piss-poor clueless. His moral compass is clouded and just by you distancing yourself away from him is enough to drive him over the edge.

He’s so lost in you consuming his thoughts that sometimes he gets lucky, the frustration of trying to get where he went wrong and you went cold sets a distant and steely look on his face and it’s exactly what the photographer needed for the shoot.

You only feel half-sorry when your phone dings with multiple texts again from Jimin in the middle of trying on work outfits for your first day, despite your cold resolve that you want to keep up; and additionally, despite Jungkook’s insistence that you should wear the grey pencil skirt because it would be the perfect last outfit the two of you get to fuck each other in, and apparently, it should be in his office.

He’s unbearable, but he’s not half-bad you suppose.

It takes one beat, two beats before you will yourself to type out a reply, a little hitch in your breath and you’re not entirely sure if it’s just misplaced nervousness or because your high-waisted pencil skirt is literally too constricting and pencil-y for its own kind.

wish i could :(( would go to the bar at the weekend but i already promised another friend and he’s planned it weeks before

You already know that it’d be impossible and Jimin will most likely turn down the invitation altogether, even if what you said this time is entirely true.

Taehyung’s finally finished his studies abroad and he’s coming home at last, having already set up living arrangements and even interior designs months before he even got a ticket back home. One of the many plans he’s made was the both of you to go back to Jaehyun’s bar that was the witness to every miniscule thing (whether to celebrate or destress) back in college. And of course, since Tae exists that he has to be treated like royalty after having studied oh so long abroad, you’d have to treat and indulge him of course!

Those went along the lines of him saying he wanted to go to the aquarium, and then him pretending he didn’t plant that idea in your head, then breaking character for a brief second to tell you that you should surprise him with the tickets.

great! he can tag along with us then

Jimin replies as soon as he got ahold of his phone the moment yet-another mundane shoot ended, not even an hour from when you last sent in your text that has him breathing sharply.

It’s not a mistake with how he worded it, because after all, nobody could be anymore compatible with you, right? Jimin sometimes feels like he knows you more than he knows himself, and he could only assume that you think the same.

He’s not exactly pleased and he wouldn’t say that he’s a little hurt knowing it just wouldn’t be the two of you together nor you cancelling said plans with this other guy he’s highly suspicious of, even more suspicious than he could get with free shipping on a non-holiday.

Whatever it is you subject him to, it’s okay.

It’s okay.

Jimin would take whatever he can get.

“Promise me you’d behave.”

It’s an empty warning that goes through Taehyung, still grinning as he completely disregards what you’ve just said and leans to squeeze in your face once again.

He’s missed you — he truly did! Random things would remind him of you all throughout his time abroad, and the way he brought home souvenirs and goodies for you is all-telling. Well for one, he did bring home a plastic bag to you that he claims is filled with the air of where he stayed, but you’re still doubting if he’s just blown to it with his own breath. There’s the license plates and the mugs, and the more endearing ones were blankets and custom shirts he’s managed to snag for you.

The familiarity home brings gets him drunk and unsurprisingly, he’s already managed to befriend Jin despite knowing each other for less than an hour.

Tae just had to compliment Jin on his earrings, and he just had to squeal in delight because apparently you were too slow to notice them.

The two of you were already here in the bar an hour early before what Jimin said, and you decided on that with the reasoning that maybe you needed to be a little bit more intoxicated upon meeting him again after quite some time.

“It’s not like I bite. You told me we were similar or something like that.”

Taehyung finds it nice that you did get a best friend while he was away, because he’s the same with Hoseok who he’s also met and they just automatically clicked that they were roommates in the next week. He’s keen on you branching out, but he’s not exactly sure what to feel that he just had to be a little similar to this friend of yours.

He’s still your original, first, best close friend that no one can take the throne of.

“That is my point, Tae. The two of you are competitive over things and you haven’t even met each other yet.”

He hums at that, once again ignoring what you’ve just said as he pokes and pokes on your cheek.

Maybe it’s your bad luck, but you just have this pattern of having really handsome guys and only have them turn out as friends because neither have the feelings, and maybe you’ve also been so affection-starved that you think Taehyung poking your cheeks is domestic.

“Hmmm,” he hums indifferently, this time in a tune and even runs his thumb on your cheek incessantly, “what moisturizer do you use?”

It’s your turn to ignore him this time, having to physically shake Taehyung by the shoulder so he’d get to focus and won’t be in a trance with your moisturized cheeks that he likes attacking.

“Need to tell you some things,” his attention’s piqued yet he doesn’t jump into conclusions, his shoulder a very warm crevice that you surely missed which is why you’re immediately burying yourself into, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“I know there’s a lot of things.”

What Taehyung didn’t tell you is that he had some people then and there to after you, from some friends and to some family he sent every once in awhile and he simply couldn’t believe that you thought they were all coincidences and you just happened to bump to his mother in the grocery even if she lived in the next city.

“Tell me the most important ones in a single sentence. I’ll ask and we can catch up with everything later.”

He has a hunch on what said things could be but he doesn’t say a word, not sure if he already wants to precede wanting to know if you really do prefer cheese popcorn over butter and what would his reaction be if you-

“I just wanna tell you that Jisoo’s in town, I’m in love — used to, I think — with Jimin, and the two of them are together.”

Oh.

Taehyung stares off into the distance, his gaze into nothingness unrelenting are you’re actually nervous if you’ve broken him already.

Five beats, six beats, and Tae blinks. He’s finished trying to tie all the ends of your statement altogether and surprisingly, made peace with what he says a few seconds later.

“Doesn’t matter. Moved on long ago.”

Taehyung smiles but the rigidness of it isn’t his facial structure, but rather the slightest of pain behind it, an unexplainable glaze on his eyes that he blinks soon enough.

“W-well me too! I moved on too!”

His sudden confession, if it was even the truth in the first place, suddenly makes you do the same that it reminds him of an eager puppy he’s always wanted to get.

He snorts at that but doesn’t question the validity of what you’ve just said. Taehyung’s always known that you’re a bit fragile and he lets it pass — you atleast need something sembling control over your life.

“To let you know, I even sleep with-...”

“Oh my god, Y/N-...”

You’ve grown but you never really strayed, always wanting to prove something that you didn’t care about obviously giving too much information and crossing boundaries.

He’s giving you noogies and you let him, the tipsy lull of the shots that Jaehyun gave you taking its course.

Jimin’s more nervous than excited to stroll into the place, hands in his pockets that effectively crease his pants but he doesn’t mind.

It doesn’t take another second longer to find you even with your back turned to him, quickly weaving in between the sea of people to get to you. He’s probably gotten a curse or two, but none of those matter.

“Hey!” Jimin patters as soon as he sees the back of your head, taking you into a massive bear hug from behind you widen your eyes on.

He’s unbelievably gotten warmer than before, and you would’ve lost yourself if he didn’t squeeze you in earnest and if Taehyung didn’t take a once-over of him.

“Hi,” it’s the only one you could muster, two pats on his arm that you’d only reserve as a silent sign for him to let go and he knows that, but doesn’t take notice.

Taehyung’s the one that breaks it, a cold stare on Jimin that he only returns as icy.

“Park Jimin. Y/N’s best friend.”

You have no time to purse your lips over that, because Tae raises his eyebrows at it as if he’s either challenged or surprised, but he offers his hand nonetheless, noticing how much bigger his hand his that he instinctively squeezes it a little tighter like how he’d do with you.

And if Jimin is hurt, he doesn’t show it.

“Kim Taehyung. Y/N’s best friend since high school.”

That one’s something Jimin didn’t expect, head tilting to analyze if this Kim guy is actually serious and if he was, then how come you never told him?

His jaw clenches for a second, a forced smile on his lips that he’s practiced for his career day and night.

Not that it matters.

Taehyung and Jimin engage in conversation by themselves, and you don’t pay attention enough to know that their “conversation” is just them trying to boast, the other to be condescending, and trying to one-up each other in their knowledge about you.

“Bet you don’t even know Y/N’s favorite fruit.”

“What, as a child or the one she likes now? Better yet, do you even know the fruits that she hates?”

“Hmm, you mean practically almost everything? Nice try. Bet you don’t know how in second semester, she-“

“Took a tutoring class with Min Yoongi? The other intelligent dude that she used to have as a sworn enemy? Christ, it’s not like you even try.”

Your attention span has long been faded, instead turning your focus to Seokjin who hasn’t moved from his spot for washing the glasses for five minutes because he’s eavesdropping at the conversation, and he is certainly entertained.

“Are we getting wasted for your birthday?”

Jin has to blink away the sleepiness from his eyes that has since been disappearing ever since he dropped in to listen to the bickering, promising to himself that he should be well-rested and not have three hours of sleep for the days that you’re gonna come over the bar and have two best friends fighting over for a title they’ve made up themselves.

“Might be. Although I’m not inviting any of those two that look like they’re gonna claw each other debating what’s your favorite drink.”

Jin feels like a breath of fresh air, and in another tipsy haze, if only he had feelings for you and vice versa, he’d totally be your boyfriend by now.

You admire him but not in that way.

He fascinates you because you’ve figured that Jin’s always been more than well-off from the start. No one in their right mind would come to work in Gucci mules and in a Rolex wristwatch for their bartending job.

He’s explained it to you a couple of months back. Just so happens that Seokjin’s actually a heir to his dad’s company, and he just got this job to humble himself. Perhaps he’s the one born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had too much control, that he’s taken it upon himself to put him down a couple of notches.

That explains to how Jin just takes whatever schedule he can get and doesn’t complain, or to how him and Jungkook have always seemed familiar with each other and had too much in common, contributing factors were that he was Jungkook’s senior in business school and that they were born in the same elite circle. Also to how Jin applied to Jaehyun, and the guy must have found it ridiculous considering they both have the same situations, and immediately hired him right away.

Jin’s just always been there in a way, from how he’d offer you atleast half of his salary when you’re in a tight spot, to talking it out with Jaehyun when you insisted on coming to work with half a mind and a handful of cramps.

“You’re the best.”

That came out of nowhere, and so did the sudden poking of your finger to Seokjin’s bread smile, but he takes it.

Meanwhile, that’s gotten Jimin’s attention.

He’s been on edge and having Taehyung, who oddly seems similar to him, is insulting that he wants to deck him with his rings.

He doesn’t like feeling second. Doesn’t like feeling second to something he knew he’d be the first at, and the concept of not being the first meaning that you’re last makes him frown.

The thoughts consuming his mind are just too noisy to let go, taking advantage when Tae’s by the bathroom and Jin’s flagged down by a customer.

“Y’close with Taehyung?”

Jimin whispers as if it’s too shameful to be said aloud, and he thinks that it is, but you only roll your eyes at him playfully and it gets him in a deeper frown because you were only taking this lightly.

“I have other friends too, y’know.”

Yeah, he’s forgotten about that. And if he pretends hard enough, he could be the only one.

There’s no time to dwell on it, not when he’s already drowned in it too deep. He wants nothing but to be selfish and it’s a thought so massive that his ego seemed superficial.

“Jimin, you need to know something.”

There’s a light tap on his forearm but he was already long alert before that, his eyes widening with how you’re looking at him.

You’re looking at him like you used to and for some reason, he’s excited. He’s jittery and nervous at the same time, and he doesn’t know what for, but he wants you to say it.

“Y-yeah? What is it?”

His mind flashes back to when you confessed to him when you were drunk, and he thinks you’ve forgotten it. He’s forgotten about it too, actually. But the situation was so similar again but this time he wasn’t cowering from it nor laughing at your face.

This time he’s the one who’s nervous and hopeful, the tips of his fingers trembling as he looks deep into your eyes.

“Taehyung’s ex is Jisoo, alright? He already knows about the two of you. Just thought you needed the transparency.”

Your stern statement withers into a mumble at the end, Jimin’s stare so intense that it makes you cower.

Instantly, you think that he looks dejected because he’s already known for the start and the truth you’ve just dropped on him confirmed it.

Jimin’s absolutely crestfallen because it’s the furthest thing he’s ever expected for you to say, feeling your hand give him some consolation pats on his back.

One inhale, one exhale. Maybe the gnawing feeling of emptiness he’s feeling would be gone tomorrow, now that you’ve sprung an unknown truth of his current girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend happening to be your friend.

But that’s not the case.

“Yup. Needed that.”

It’s okay for Jimin to look for you.

It’s okay for him to only hum when Jisoo hugs him and buries her face in his chest. It’s not as warm as yours when you embrace him, and the scent that stays on his shirt isn’t of you. She doesn’t nudge her nose on the middle of his chest, and poke at his sternum and ask him to stop getting ripped.

It’s okay for him to only smile when she kisses him when used to giggle and actually love it. He’s never kissed you but he wonders everyday, and you’d probably taste as sweet as you look. If he ever did kiss you, you’d be his only fixation he can’t stop drinking out of.

It’s okay for Jimin to only smile when Jisoo tells him that she loves him, and if he ever does say it, there’s no I preceding the reiteration.

He’s not sure whether she means it or it’s out of habit, something developed when he said it so often and out of the blue. Even then, he can’t feel the saccharine feeling of being drunk in love anymore. Atleast Jimin knows that whenever you told him you loved him, you did actually mean it.

This is okay.

It’s okay for him to buy your perfume and spray it on his pillow, and if he closes his eyes hard enough, he could think that the comforter enveloping him is your warmth instead.

Jimin’s lost and he lets himself to be.

It’s okay to fall out of love with Jisoo.

Jimin from three months ago wouldn’t have thought that it was possible. In fact, he thought that it was the most impossible thing underneath the sun and he often confesses it to the moon, because he’s never fallen as hard.

Jimin from two months ago thought that he’s at his happiest, and everything that’s been happening ever since he’s laid his eyes on Jisoo is serendipity.

Jimin from a month ago thought that he was rotting from within. He felt as if he’s the most frustrated he’s ever been and it got him wondering whether his hair is actually dyed grey or if it’s from his stress.

Jimin now, is someone that has never been hurt before as he’s hurting now.

He finds himself in this same godforsaken bar he’s grown to both hate and love, and the start and end of what seems to be the things that make and break him as a person.

It’s clear as day when under the simultaneously soft and harsh lighting, that maybe Jisoo’s never been his.

No one between the two of them actually made the initiative to break up with the other, but it seemed like words weren’t needed.

She’s perhaps always belonged to Taehyung who has the tightest of grips on her waist. There’s no grinding, no libido. Embracing each other in the middle of a crowd tells him everything he needs to know.

Jisoo’s slipped away from Jimin’s grasp and into Taehyung’s who’ll she will always come back to. Tae never wavers and he’s holding onto her as if she’s his lifeline, and that wouldn’t exactly be wrong.

Jimin’s girlfriend is slipping away from him but it’s not what pains him.

Jimin’s eyes are bleary, and he’s unsure whether it’s because he’s drunk or because he’s crying. Whatever it was, it’s not because of Jisoo — it’d never been her.

He rests his head on your shoulder and you let him. He feels so defenseless and looks shattered that you don’t question him nonetheless, a magnanimous feeling of pity rolling from every circle you rub to his back.

“You’re really beautiful.”

He says it out of the blue as if it’s a confirmed thought, looking up at you in stride.

“Don’t say things like that,” you could only murmur as you try to look for a bottle of water within your reach, sooner or later having to haul Jimin home.

He doesn’t have a slightest clue why you’d dismiss it, but he persists as he always does.

“I’m really lucky to know you,” it’s an irrevocable fact with how he says it, making you think for a second if he’s actually sober and could come home by himself. That’s not any of his worries, because this time his mind works as fast as his mouth does. “But I think I’m the luckiest if I can have you.”

As Jimin comes to realize, it’s not Jisoo that he should’ve fallen for. He got burned as fast as he crashed, and it was love like that he’s always tried seeking.

It’s the easy short-lived warmth he got from a candle, but never the hard yet lasting warmth he got from a fireplace.

Your love for him was built steadily over the years and never all at once. It was from a spark to a fire in the making you took the chance being burnt from, and how long it was built meant no match to how short it was extinguished.

“Am I too late?”

Jimin’s as vulnerable as he can get that he doesn’t realize he’s already crying and it’s not drunken blues anymore.

He loves you so much and it takes an avalanche to make him realize that every moment with you shined.

His heart’s a muscle and he couldn’t believe that he’s only realized now that you’re it’s one true memory, having trained to be with you so much that no one could quite compare all along.

You don’t need anything to be the light; you don’t need to do anything to be the center of attention. It’s always been you yet he’s dismissed the thought that maybe it was just the bias of having known you.

But now, it’s about who he would and wouldn’t be if not for you.

Jimin can’t live without even the concept of you.

“If I told you that I’m falling for you, what would you do?”

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

309 notes · View notes

amethystpath-writes · 3 years

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A Cage of Moonlight and Magic:

You guys asked for a collab so here’s collab number one, with the one and only @nightfrostshadow ! We had a blast writing this and bouncing ideas off one another, so sit back and enjoy :)

******

“Listen to me carefully,” Supervillain held Villain’s chin, slid his hand so casually near his circus pet’s neck- his throat. “Those water and ice crystals are not yours at all. They are mine, you hear me? They are the audience’s. You exist only to provide entertainment, to provide glory. But you are neither of these things without your powers.” He stepped back, peering at his subject with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” Villain promised. “Someday when you least expect it, I will do it.” He’d said this before, many times- with many bouts of frustration, confidence, and determination.

Supervillain laughed. “With water?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being swept away by a current?” For once, Villain allowed a smile to curve upon his lips. Something wicked enraptured his thoughts- more than just murder; it was torture. “When the water is so fast, so strong, that your head never breaks surface ever again. You drown.”

The hand near Villain’s throat faltered, but ultimately tightened. “Don’t forget who you are speaking to.” And that was the end of that.

***

“I think it’s fun,” Hero said, “when the little kids’ faces curve into shining smiles. And the adults, too. I wonder how many grandparents have made our show their last one. What an honour, isn’t it, Villain? That we may be the last magic someone sees?”

Villain who had been gloomily forming a little water tornado in his palm looked up at Hero. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, and the swirling water fell to the ground.

“Does it not bother you that we are nothing but tools to Supervillain?” Villain asked. “Meant to forever use our powers in such a pathetic way, to entertain people? Would you not rather be the one in power of your own life? To live free…free to do whatever we want with our powers instead of what Supervillain wants!” What a magnificent fantasy Villain let reel in his mind.

He shifted his body, knees dragging in the dirt- in his bed. “I’m reduced to having to put up waterwork shows. Waterworks can you believe it? Out of all the things I can do?”

A spritz of water in Hero’s direction. “And you.” He waited for Hero to meet his eyes. “With your stars and fireworks…you could do so much more. We could do so much more, Hero. Yet here we are, the famous opening act for Supervillain.”

Hero pondered over this as she thoughtfully looked down at her own hands, making little stars and sparkles erupt from her fingers, thus illuminating the surroundings. Such a great contrast to the darkening sky, she thought before answering Villain. “We bring light to the people watching, you know?” Literally, in Hero’s case.

“You could bring heat to them as well.” Villain was watching the little sparks in his co-worker’s hands as she’d spoken. Darkly, he thought, She could set the world ablaze if she wished. “Don’t you understand that we are animals to them? They think we are tamed.” He expected a response- anything besides Hero’s plain face. “That fact doesn’t bother you at all?” Villain’s voice pitched, incredulous.

Hero smiled slightly as she sent out a shower of sparkles raining down on them with a flick of her fingers and met Villain’s eyes as she spoke “I try not to think about it, you know? I just think of the good in every situation. It helps me be happy and peaceful. Besides, we’ve been here long enough; it’s not like we can leave so I just find the wonder in everything we do…it warms my heart to see the joy in people’s eyes as they watch us perform. You should try it, too, Villain.” She looked at him earnestly.

Villain stared at her in disbelief as he smiled bitterly,” There is nothing that can warm my heart here. Looking at the joy in peoples’ eyes as they don’t even care about us? Looking at them angers me even more. All they care about is watching the magic show in front of them. What has there been for us to celebrate in these past years?” Villain took a deep breath. “Nothing. I haven’t felt happiness in ages, Hero…and my heart?” He formed ice at the tips of his fingers as if to demonstrate- “It’s frozen.”

He sighed as he laid down on his bed- if you could even call it that. Once again he longed for the blanket he desperately needed, yet was never given on the cold winter nights.

***

“Up and at them, monsters.” Supervillain casted his light throughout the tent room, illuminating every square inch, every shadow hiding in every nook and cranny. He seemed to ignore his own monstrous ability.

Perhaps moonlight wasn’t such a devious subject to some, but to the magis, it was the cruellest of all magics- a searing light close to a large pane of lasers. The light hurt. And Supervillain was fond of using it every day, using it to wake his subjects up, to force them into the confines of a life hardly worth living. A circus like what they performed was better than the pain, but the pain was inescapable.

“We have a big show tonight. Some very esteemed guests will be making an appearance. You will all be expected to put on your best performance.”

As eyes creeped open, and quiet gasps and shouts of pain sounded around the dirt room, Supervillain’s lips curved into a bow. He did love the sounds and movements they made under his power- something incapable of being shown to an audience, per say, but something most definitely to be used behind closed curtains. He was thankful there was no expected sizzle to come from the burning skin of his subjects. The audience might hear that, and then what would his show be?

Villain rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees and collapsing in on himself to form a ball. The moonlight burned, as usual, but it was worse on this late night. He felt the light in all places, even those not accessible- hence the tight position he held himself in, a form of self-defence. Moonlight poured between his lips, filling his mouth in a pain that could only be expressed through blood-curdling screams.

Knowing Supervillain and his antics, Villain had the sense to guard the sounds he made in a self-made bubble. Should anyone outside this room hear his screams, they would become concerned; they might try to break into the performers’ room. Supervillain would do worse than let the moonlight flow inside Villain’s body, then.

“It feels like drowning, doesn’t it?” Supervillain asked, so suddenly knelt on the ground beside Villain’s bubble of muteness. “Do you regret your words from yesterday yet? Will you behave today?”

As experimental as Villain was with his powers, he never once tried to purposefully experience the feeling of drowning. Right now, though, he could imagine this burning inside his body must be what it felt like to breathe in water. He didn’t have gills despite many people’s beliefs. He knew the feeling of water shooting up one’s nose, of coughing and gagging on it with the ever-present idea of never breathing again. Water was scary, even he would admit.

It was in this moment that his bubble fell. Villain swallowed his screams, clenching every muscle in his body to prevent the sounds of continued pain. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, if only to stop Supervillain’s act of revenge. “Won’t- won’t threaten you again.” But, of course, he would. The fight, the defiance, was in his blood.

Esteemed guests, he said? Villain focused on his thoughts as the moonlight slowly escaped his body. I’ll be sure to give them a show, then.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Hero’s eyes to widen with surprise as she’d watched Supervillain slowly stride on over to Villain with a look of admiration in his eyes. Meanwhile, Villain had been writhing in what was undoubtedly pain. She could just barely hear his agonized screams through the water he trapped himself in. It was as if she had been listening to him beneath the water surface of a pool- goodness she missed those. Her jaw, which had apparently been opened, snapped shut in a desperate moment to withhold an empathetic cry.

Hero thought back on the conversation she shared with Villain earlier that morning- about how horrible this life was.

Yes. Yes, she could agree that certain aspects of it weren’t preferable, but…well, Villain did this to himself, didn’t he? He pushed and prodded- he poked the bear if you would. Albeit horrible, Villain’s treatment was somewhat deserved.

This didn’t mean that Hero didn’t find the treatment absolutely gut-wrenching. Sometimes she had nightmares about the same pain coursing throughout her own body. Fortunately, they were dreams and she only knew the pain existed within them because of her unconscious hollers.

Either way, Hero knew she could never exist in that amount of pain. She might very well pass out, and then what use would she be to the show? What use would she be to herself? Those bright, smiling faces in the audiences warmed her in a way her powers never could. They kept her going. They kept her alive.

So, she would withstand those slight waves of pain every day. She would endure because any alternative was too frightening, too dooming.

“Five minutes!” Supervillain announced, and with that, he stepped out, flaps of the tent room snapping shut behind him.

Not wasting a moment, Hero crawled over to Villain, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

His response was a glare. He shrugged her off. “Get ready,” he said simply. “We have a great show tonight and little time to prepare.”

What Hero didn’t see was the vengeance pooling in Villain’s stomach, much like the moonlight Supervillain had placed there just a minute ago.

***

Villain smirked as he stood in position with Hero, ready to open the show, waiting for the curtains to rise. In three, two…

The curtain rose and as the audience stared, no doubt waiting, excited to see what the show had in store for them, the cue was given and Hero prepared to do her part, hands twirling with both anticipation and preparation.

Watching Villain, she faltered, one hand clumsily colliding with the other…all because she noticed something unordinary. Villain was not performing with her, and he had a look in his eyes, a- a gleam which Hero had never seen before. This can’t be good. Not only did Villain have such a mischievous glimmer, but he had not moved from his initial position.

With eyes now closed, Villain summoned all the water he could. Opening them once again, he sent his arms forward- a fast motion which released wave upon wave, crashing into the audience.

He laughed darkly as he sprinkled a whirlpool here, a current there, and a water tornado- which served as an escape, a path of destruction that cleared the way of all the chairs, as well as the audience members themselves.

Just as Hero had faltered before, Villain did in that very moment- a familiar pain blossoming in his body. He gritted his teeth.

Supervillain had begun fighting him more quickly than expected. Clearly, the waves that had engulfed him, therefore knocking him over, and the shards of ice Villain had aimed towards his chest, hadn’t been enough.

But he couldn’t stop clearing the path- the only path that could ensure him life- ensure him freedom. His motivation to succeed tonight enraptured his every move…because if he failed…well…he didn’t want to think of the consequences.

The adrenaline which Villain possessed now helped him more easily bear the once excruciating pain. Now, it was only a dull throb, a throb that allowed Villain to continue concentrating on clearing the path of obstacles, for anyone in his way would regret it.

Villain’s body ached, having never spent so much energy on his powers. Especially not at the same time as Supervillain using his own powers so strongly against him.

Struggling to hold on as he started to feel the pain sharper than ever, Villain focused on the path- his salvation- ahead. Supervillain was no match for the determination manifesting in Villain’s veins.

***

Hero was lost in the literal sea of madness. A part of her was grateful to only feel the sprinkle of swirling water around her, yet another quaked at the sight before her- of the people she so graciously served being tossed like ragdolls.

What was worse: the sight of Villain captured in his cage of moonlight, or seeing the audience so helplessly being…being drowned? For once, she decided on the latter. Hero never imagined a day would pass that Supervillain’s power wasn’t the most terrifying thing in existence. Seeing what Villain did now, though? It was horrible- excruciating.

On another hand…Hero understood. Villain endured so much pain, so often, who else wouldn’t lose their mind- wouldn’t wreak havoc if it meant being free of the torture? Clearly, this life wasn’t meant for him. And he was stubborn enough that fighting for such freedom was all he’d ever know.

Seeing as Supervillain was just as strong-willed, he’d never stop torturing- never stop trying to break Villain. Making an escape was Villain’s greatest hope.

Who was Hero to try and stop him?

******

*insert cliffhanger* Mwahaha 😈

Part two here

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artzychic27 · 3 years

Note

The Artist Family? (new movie)

A month has passed since Marc and Nathaniel met and fell in love at age fourteen, now they’re dating

To celebrate their one month anniversary, they decide to visit one of the most romantic spots ever- The burned-down forest they met in- Only to run into some trouble

The mobs from their previous homes have still been looking for them since the incidents and were finally able to track them down

The couple manage to escape the angry mob with the help of Marc’s spiders and a friendly severed hand who cause a distraction

So they can get away quicker, That drives them in an old hearse he found in a graveyard

Marc: Mi querido, why must hoards of angry villagers follow us everywhere?

Nathaniel: *Kissing Marc’s hand* Meyn ziskeyt, I swear to you, we will find someplace so dark, so sinister, so dastardly that no one in their right mind would be caught dead in!

*They arrive in Paris*

Nathaniel: Huh. I see it’s changed over the last few centuries. And I’m noticing a lack of guillotines.

As they lament about how they can’t keep running for the rest of their lives, That, who was recklessly driving, runs over something in the middle of the road, right near an old funeral home shrouded by fog and cut off from the rest of the city

Marc/Nathaniel: *Excitedly* We hit something!

They rush to see who or what they’ve hit, and see that the figure is a blonde, pale young man who seems to have most of his organs missing

They realize that the person they ran over is Félix Culpa, a young man who died centuries ago, but was never given a funeral because the mortician prepping him got the plague. He regains consciousness and goes to attack the two, but Nathaniel just hands him their bags

Nathaniel: Thanks, man. Hey, you mind showing us around the place?

And that’s how Félix became their butler

When they arrive at the old funeral home, they’re given a very warm welcome.

Spirit of the House: GET OUT!

Marc: ... It’s hideous.

Nathaniel: It’s horrible...

Marc/Nathaniel: It’s home.

Weeks goes by, and more people begin to occupy the home, making amazing first impressions

Marinette and Alix actually snuck in and have been living in the walls for a short period of time until Félix found them

Marc found Rose resting in one of the open graves in the backyard

And Juleka Samara-crawled out of the swamp with her hair covering her face

The six of them share their backgrounds, sympathize with each other about how they were run out of their homes, and make the decision to change their last names to Artist

Now they’re sixteen while Alix is still fifteen

Meanwhile, down in Paris, Gabriel Agreste is taking the fashion world by storm, and his clothing (All basic and dull) is a big hit in Paris (For reasons no one understands but they won’t say anything for fear of not fitting in)

His son, Adrien Agreste goes for a bike ride through the woods with his two friends, Nino and Alya, where they come across the gate that separates outsiders from the Artists’ home

They’re immediately scared away when Marinette opens the creaking gate that sounds like the end of the world when opened

Also, Alix’s sinister sixteen is coming up in a few weeks, and part of the celebration is a swordfight, which she is nowhere near ready for

Nathaniel: Alix, you need to practice. It’s the day your family and friends judge you and pass judgement on your worth as a human being!... It reminds me of Hanukkah.

During one dinner, Marinette asks a question that shocks everyone

Marinette: Do you guys think things beyond the gate have changed?

Juleka: ... What?

Marinette: It’s been years, surely things must be different now. Earlier today, I swore I heard people.

Marc: Outside is forbidden.

Marinette: But-

Marc: Forbidden!

Back in the city, Gabriel is anticipating the arrival of tourists to buy his new line of clothing which he calls, Conformist

While filming a commercial, a red balloon floats astray and makes its way towards the Artists’ home, which Marinette finds as she’s “helping” Alix prepare for the Swordfight

Alix: Why are you helping me?

Marinette: Because. You are like my sister... And... I... Love... You...

Alix: ... You seem trustworthy.

Big mistake

Marinette: *Walks inside with the balloon* Good news, Alix is gone.

Marc: *Holding a sword to Nathaniel’s neck* Mari, go dig up Alix.

Marinette: You and Nathaniel are once again weakening this generation.

Nathaniel: *Points to balloon* Mari, where did you get that?

Marinette: I’m not sure.

Marc: Strange. There’s usually a murderous clown attached to the other end of these.

Juleka: *Gasp!* And what is this?! *Plucks a piece of pink confetti off of Marinette’s shoulder*

Nathaniel: Smells like cotton candy. *Off their confused looks* I was young and stupid, alright?

The Artists go outside where they find rainbow confetti raining down, and the fog that covers their home is lifting up, revealing to them the town

Much to Marc’s protests, Nathaniel suggests they go see the place for themselves

Marinette: This day is becoming most miraculously disruptive.

While filming another commercial, the Artist Family’s house is in the camera’s shot, and Gabriel passes out the second he sees it

*Somewhere else* Nino: ... I feel an overwhelming sense of... Joy.

The Artists arrive in their hearse, and immediately capture the attention of the other Parisians. They’re given strange looks wherever they go, and sometimes people run away screaming

No one has run them out with pitchforks yet. Yay!

Alix: Guys! *Pulls a tire off of a police car* They’re just giving these away!

Juleka: Alix, mind your manners, people might want tires, too.

After getting coffee grounds, the Artists come across Adrien, Alya, Nino, Chloé, and Lila in the park, prancing around in pink and blue outfits and singing about being conformists

Rose: Wow... That is absolutely horrible!

Marinette: ... *Dumps coffee grounds* I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. However, that blonde boy... Intrigues me

And it seems the feeling is mutual when Adrien steals glances at the gothic girl with braids

Rose: ... Yeah, I’m done with this song. *She hikes up the hem of her robe, releasing hundreds of bats that scare off the crowd* Done and done!

Done with these people, Marc wants to leave, Nathaniel insists that things have changed, but his boyfriend is still reluctant... Cue Gabriel

He insists on hiring interior decorators to fix up the Artists home (So tourists aren’t scared off) Marc, with some urging from Nathaniel allows him to do so.

Marinette: That man seems deranged. His face reminds me of a death mask.

*Somewhere else* Nino: In the future... I will have a new friend. Blue hair. Braids.

Back at the Artists Home, Nathaniel, Juleka, and Rose help Alix prepare for her Swordfight

Rose: Of all the Sinister Sixteens I’ve seen, Nathaniel’s was the stuff of legends.

Juleka: So no pressure!

Gabriel, Adrien, the design crew, and the news crew arrive, ready to remove the gloom and macabre form the Artists’ home

Félix: *Answers the door* Youuuuuu raaaaaanng?

Adrien: *Calling Alya and Nino* Hey, so I’m going into the creepy mansion. If I don’t come back, I’m dead... I love you too, Nino... Yes, Alya, I know he’s your boyfriend.

Much to his relief, Adrien is left outside and goes around back to explore

Gabriel: I do hope this isn’t a bad time.

Nathaniel: The worst!... Do come in.

Gabriel spends most of the time making light criticisms and jabs at the decor, the Artists themselves, their clothes, and Marc’s spiders (Which he considers the greatest insult)

Meanwhile in the backyard, Adrien is nearly killed by a crossbow. To his horror and awe, he finds the shooter: Marinette in all of her dark glory

Immediately, he develops a small crush on her. She’s not like the other girls at school who constantly cling to and flirt with him because of his father’s wealth

He tries his hand at impressing her by shooting an arrow, but accidentally shoots Rose, which actually does impress Marinette

Adrien: So, why haven’t I seen you and your siblings at school?

Marinette: We’re coven-schooled. But, blondie, do tell... *Leans in close so she can hear Adrien’s rapid heartbeat* Can anyone attend your school?

Gabriel and his crew leave, having made no renovations to the Artists’ home. And when Nathaniel explains that family and friends will be coming over for Alix’s Sinister Sixteen, that just motivates the designer even more

Down in Gabriel’s secret lair, he spies on the Parisians through a social media app where he fills the comments section with rumors about the Artists, saying they’re anarchists and breed spiders... Okay, so they’re not all rumors

*The Next Day* Nathaniel: Monochrome, I know the man is an eccentric, but- *Marinette appears behind him* Aah!

Marc: Mari, you know Nathaniel scares easily. Practice your lurking on someone else. *Marinette appears behind him* Better. Now what’s on your mind?

Marinette explains that she wants to atener school, much to Marc’s horror and Nathaniel’s excitement. She needs to torment more kids her own age.

Marc doesn’t want her to go, worried she might fall under the influence of the... Conformists, but Nathaniel somehow convinced him

Marinette walking into school: Ah, so these are the gates of hell.

Adrien, while being crowded by girls he doesn’t even like (Especially Lila and Chloé) becomes awestruck when he sees Marinette walking in. She looks like a beautiful demon queen

Lila and Chloé see this and try to intimidate her, but this is what Marinette says,

Marinette: Listen you future plastic surgery disasters, I’m not locked in here with either of you. You and your outdated, distasteful “outfits” are locked in here with me. And don’t you forget it.

Alya just might dump Nino so she can ask this girl out. Polyamory works too. / Adrien: Back of the line.

Mendelive’s biology class: They’re dissecting frogs.

Adrien: Aw, I feel bad for doing this.

Marinette: Relax. Rose showed me how to do this hundreds of times. *Cue Frankenstein equipment* FLIP THE SWITCH! *Adrien flips the switch and electrocutes all of the frogs* LIVE! LIVE MY CREATURE!

The frogs come to life and attack Lila and Chloé. Karma at its finest. Alya and Nino are impressed by her more than ever

Alya: It is an honor and a privilege to watch you work, spooky girl.

Back at the Artists’ Home, it’s game night! They’re playing the game of Death, but Marc isn’t focused. It’s late and he’s wondering where Marinette is

Finally, she arrives, but much to Marc’s horror, she has a Ladybug hair clip! He’s in so much shock that his face flushes red and a bat has to drink his blood

Marc: What. Is. That?

Marinette: Adrien calls it a “Pop of color” says it brings out my... Smile.

Marc: You don’t have a smile.

In order to see what’s going on with his sister/friend, Marc suggests they do ‘Tea & Seance’ like old times... Only she bails to hang out with Adrien, and they give each other makeovers as acts of rebellion

Meanwhile, Alix is upset because she still can’t get the hang of sword fighting and Nathaniel has been working so hard to help her

Marinette returns from her hangout with Adrien, almost making Marc faint when she shows up wearing pink and her hair in pigtails.

Marc: Okay, this is where I sever the line! You are not going back to that school!

Marinette: *Gives him the evil eye before leaving* You can’t tell me what to do.

Juleka: Dear Hades, that is some evil eye.

Horrified by Adrien’s new gothic look and attitude, Gabriel spreads more rumors about the Artists

Frustrated by the lack of support from her family/friends, Marinette runs away and goes to stay with Adrien

Alix: I always knew it would end up like this. Just didn’t know when.

Marinette: Farewell, Alix! I will never forget you, but I’ll try.

The next morning, Marinette, Alya, and Nino are helping Adrien look for his phone, which Gabriel his hidden punishment for his new look

While looking, they stumble across Gabriel’s lair and discover he’s been spying on everyone in Paris. Gabriel discovers them snooping and locks them in Adrien’s room while he goes to greet the tourists... And some unexpected guests

Nathalie: *Dials Gabriel* Gabriel, it’s an emergency. They’re here! The Artist Family!

The Artists more... Eccentric family members (Gina Dupain, Uncle Wang, Master Fu, Luka, Fei, Jagged, Penny, and the art teacher for example) have arrived to attend Alix’s sinister sixteen.

Things are going well so far. Juleka reunites with Luka, Fei battles Gina to the death, but Marinette still hasn’t arrived, so they do the sword fight without her... Which Alix fails.

As Nathaniel consoles her, a cannonball shoots through the wall. Gabriel somehow got a catapult for the mob to use

Marc: It’s Gabriel. He’s turned the town into a mob.

Juleka: I oddly admire his determination.

While the mob fires more cannonballs and destroy the house, Alix tosses her sword and grabs her explosives, successfully protecting her family... Until a cannonball blocks their only exit and she runs out of ammo

Just as the ceiling begins to fall and it seems like the end, Marinette, Adrien, Alya, and Nino come in just in time and save them all thanks to the possessed tree

She and Marc reconcile

Marc: I’m so glad you came back.

Marinette: Of course. There was no way you all could survive without me. You’re like weak kittens.

The Parisians begin having regrets about attacking the Artists (Mainly cuz they almost killed a bunch of kids), but this is interrupted by Gabriel

Gabriel: I will relish hounding you all until that nuclear waste dump you call is house is destroyed with you all in it!

Juleka: Oh, you are just begging to be dragged down to hell, aren’t you, Gabriel?

Marinette: And this family will never run from the likes of you again. *Her death glare stuns Gabriel*

Nino: Damn, I gotta learn how to do that.

Adrien finally stands up to his father and exposes how he’s been spying on everyone in the city while Alya live streams everything. Gabriel is now ruined

Months later, the Artists’ Home has been rebuilt by the guilty Parisians who learn to accept their new, weird neighbors. Also, the Spirit of the House has returned

Adrien and Marinette start dating while Alya and Nino share a mutual pining for the girl

#miraculous ladybug #marc x nathaniel #the addams family #the artist family #marinette dupain cheng #alix kudbel #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #answered ask #ask me stuff #addams family au #mlb au #mlb crossover

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gamer-logic · 3 years

Text

The States and 2P America

So the 2ps get to the 1p world after making a truce with their counterparts and escaping their collapsing world where they're the only survivors. They then proceed to live with their 1ps in a crazy roommate sort-of situation. The only problem is that when Allen gets to Alfred's house it's this huge mansion and one of the states opens the door making him very confused as he never had states of his own and his idiotic 1p is the father of 50 kids!

"What the *beep* Porkchop?! Since do you have fifty little brats runnin’ around?!"

Alfred gives him a full rundown on finding/raising the states and then proceeds to draft him into babysitting! At first, Allen tried to ignore them but then faces the painful realization that leaving 50 states alone is never a good idea. After finally rounding up everyone he could find and freeing the thirteen (most responsible being Delaware and Virginia) from being trapped in the barn by their younger siblings, he does a headcount.

Allen: Okay one, two, three.....45. We're missing five! Where's Nevada, Hawaii, Alaska, Texas, and New Mexico?

Random state raises their hand: I think Nevada's in Vegas gambling again. He goes there a lot to triple his allowance!

Another state: I remember Texas said something about rodeos and bull riding all the way to Dallas. Also, Alaska and Hawaii left a note saying something about hanging out with New Mexico and Tony in Roswell!

Allen: But we're in D.C.! How did they get all the way over there in 3 hours?! *States shrug while Allen looks close to screaming into the void* Okay, everyone into the bus! We're going to get your siblings!

Cue cross country road-trip like the hangover where, after hours of getting lost in Disney Land, Delaware’s nagging about being the oldest and most mature much to Massachusetts chagrin because he’s clearly got better colleges, getting into a dance contest in Maine, keeping Arizona from getting stuck in the Grand Canyon for the hundredth time, Wisconsin participating in a cheese eating contest, Maine cooking seafood, Georgia making 30 peach cobblers, Colorado making a giant igloo, Washington and Oregon's hippie phases making a return, playing hockey in Minnesota, fishing Michigan out of the great lakes, New Jersey getting stalked by the Jersey Devil who’s like that stray cat that keeps following you around, keeping New York from starting a fight at Yankee’s game, gator wrestling in the Florida everglades, getting dressed for Mardi Gras in Lousianna, getting lost in Iowa’s biggest corn maze, the Dakota twins almost killing the Carolinas for trying to graffiti Mt. Rushmore (there’s a bit of a twin rivalry), avoiding the secret service less they get caught and ratted out to Alfred, seeing Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming and trying to keep Alabama from sticking his head in it on a dare, crossing the Mississippi, running from rodeo clowns that Tennessee angered after he picked a fight with them for insulting his country music, finally picking up Texas with his new Rodeo bull-riding championship belt and tying him up with his own lasso, various misadventures, including recuing Idaho from an accidental marriage, in Vegas that will stay in Vegas, finding/grounding Nevada from gambling after he almost lost 50 grand and Wyoming to a circus, they finally arrive in Roswell.

Allen, too tired to care at this point: Alright! Who's this Tony New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska said they we're with?

Maryland: He's Dad's cool alien friend from 1947. New Mexico likes hanging out with him in his spaceship playing pranks on Britain and the other nations!

Allen hardly believes her but is too tired to care at this point: A-Alien? Sure, why not?! Let’s just go get them! Maybe we’ll run into Nessie too!

Iowa whispering to Ohio: But isn’t Nessie in Scotland?

Ohio: *shrugs*

After falling into a series of booby traps a la Alaska, they finally track down Tony’s ship in Alaska and find the three playing video games with Tony. It finally registers in Allen’s mind that there’s a real freakin’ alien in front of him playing Mario Kart.

Allen: T-t-that’s an….

State: Yep!

Allen: And he’s playing video games….

States: Yep!

Allen, not able to handle this anymore: *faints*

After a not so long drive back to D.C. courtesy of New Jersey’s driving, Getting KFC in Kentucky for supper with vegan salad for Allen and irritating said state in the process, and almost forgetting Rhode Island, they finally make it bake to D.C. and settle Allen down on the couch, gathering around him to watch a Marvel marathon acting like the innocent little angels they’re not. They also duct tape California’s mouth shut and tie her up with Texas’ lasso because she wouldn’t stop complaining about watching her newest one instead. Alfred finally arrives home from a meeting in Berlin around the time they finish Doctor Strange and sees Allen crashed on the couch with the states around him.

Alfred: So did you have a good time with Uncle Allen?

States: We sure did!

Wisconsin bragging about his trophy made entirely of cheese: I’m the king of cheese once again!

Alfred: Great! Now it’s off to bed everyone!

States: Aww! But we wanted to stay up and play with Uncle Allen!

Alfred: No buts, you can play again tomorrow! Now off to bed!

The states start trudging up to their rooms with California finally being freed. Georgia putting a blanket over Allen, Hawaii putting a hibiscus print pillow under his head, and Maryland putting a note on the end table as they go out. Allen finally wakes up and Alfred, watching the rest of the marathon notices.

Alfred: You were awesome with them dude! I’m going to let you babysit from now on!

Allen: *Screams and faints again*

Alfred: Heh! He’s so excited! *Munches on popcorn*

The next morning Allen wakes up and reads the note: “Thanks for taking care of all of us today! We had a lot of fun, Uncle Allen! From the states. P.S. You were super cool playing baseball at Yankee stadium! Teach us sometime? Also, there's a salad for you in the fridge! :)"

He crumbles the note and puts it in his jacket trying not to break his tough-guy persona. But later when no one looking, he takes it out with a small smile and thinks these brats aren’t so bad after all.

Eventually, they grew on him and Allen comes to consider the all the states like his own secretly loving it when they call him Uncle Allen. They may be little gremlins but his gremlins and if you so much as touch one hair on their head you’ll get a face full of his nailed bat!

Just another day in the Jones’ household!

Meanwhile In Canada:

James is babysitting the provinces for Mathew and is currently in drill sergeant mode pacing in front of the nervous, with the exception of Quebec who's extremely excited, lined-up provinces. Kumajiro (cub) and Kuma (adult) are just chilling and watching them with whistles around their necks and cute little maple leaf hats courtesy of British Columbia.

James: All right, listen up! I’m going to teach you all how to rough it and survive out in the wilderness! Now, who knows how to start a fire?

All the provinces turn to stare at Manitoba.

Manitoba: Oh, come on! I set fire to Papa’s flannel shirt collection one time!

James: Okaaaaay ignoring that, everybody get into groups of two and I’ll assign jobs!

Nova Scotia raises her hand: But there’s thirteen of us!

James: Fine then, eenie meenie miny mo… *Points to Prince Edward Island* you! Prissy pants boy you're with me! We’re gathering firewood!

P.E.I. looking up from his mirror: Excuse me!? I’m not gonna get these designer clothes dirty picking up filthy wood!

James *facepalms*: Give me that! *Proceeds to chuck the mirror into the lake much to P.E.I’s horror and Ontario’s glee!*

(They don't get along because of P.E.I.’s arrogant personality and constant declaring himself in charge despite Ontario being the oldest and having the capital).

James: We’re out here to survive off the land which means no cell phones, no internet, and definitely NO BEAUTY PRODUCTS. NOW IS THAT CLEAR?!

Provinces: Sir, yes sir!

James being the big softie that he is but won't admit: Good! Now we meet back here by sunset and we’ll roast marshmallows!

Everyone hurries and gets on with their jobs with Alberta somehow ending up stuck in a tree and harassed by woodpeckers and Yukon and Saskatchewan being the most successful by communicating with/befriending a family of beavers that help them build a shelter. By the end of the day, James also feels a sense of fatherly protectiveness and pride over the provinces like Allen. he also secretly loves it when they call him Uncle James. Nunavut also manages to find bigfoot who helps gather food much to James’ shock!

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emiliaheartfeel · 3 years

Text

Supergirl

Chapter 2: Forgotten (partly written)

AN: Nothing coordinates to Haikyuu actual timeline they would be older. And everything about Y/N gymnast career is made up, I don’t know too much about gymnastics.

You have just arrived back in your hometown after three months away in Tokyo. Gymnastics demanded you leave Hyogo to train at the best facility especially after the 2012 Olympic where you won three gold metals and you have to defend your title as the world best right now. You spent most of your time in gym, more the 8 hours a day, to perfect your routines. It meant you don’t have much of a social life outside of those that went to the gym and the few people you still talked to in Hyogo. You have been lonely, but that’s just how life is sometimes. Slowly you look around for some blonde hair and can’t find any. Waiting a few more awhile more you finally decide to text Atsumu.

You progressively get more and more nervous and angry as the time ticks by. Eventually you give up and start walking to the twin’s school seeing as it was closer to the trainer station then your home. Each step you take fuels your anger. Honestly you understand that Atsumu was just as passionate about volleyball as you were gymnastics, but you never have forgotten about any of your friends due to that passion. You see the gym come in to view and hasten your pace. At that moment you decide to be slightly cruel as you watch the boys practice from the door. You take out your phone once more and call Atsumu seeing him sit at the sidelines to let the backup setter practice with the starting lineup some. Watching as he grabs his phone, rolls his eyes and answer with a huff.

“This better be good”

“You’ve forgotten something”

“No I don’t believe so”

“Oh really”

“Ye I’m sure.”

“Think really hard Atsumu”

“Ugh, even if I did it probably isn’t important enough for you to call me in the middle of practice Y/N”

Both Osamu and Aran glance over at Atsumu with sympathy in their eyes. They both had tried to tell him earlier that he had to go get you but he had already locked into practice by then.

“Turn around jerk”

And so Atsumu does realization and horror appear on his previously annoyed face as his eyes catch yours. You hang up and walk to sit down on the other side of the court no longer looking at him. Your face remained neutral even though you were seething on the inside. Aran, Osamu and Kita all gave you some form of hesitant acknowledgment knowing how angry you must of been. Practice comes to a close after awhile and you head straight to Osamu. Forcing a smile you greet your long time friend while ignoring his twin.

“You mad”

“Extremely”

“Mad enough to forget ya mad at me”

“No not really. But nothing piss Atsumu off more then someone picking his twin over him”

You still smiling as you talk to the calmer twin. Osamu could see the slight edge to the grin that promised retribution and he really didn’t want to be on the other end of it. To try in get back in your good grace he would play along to whatever stunt you were about to pull. He, however, is not prepared for you to throw your arms around his neck pulling your self much too close for anyone who isn’t lovers and plant a kiss right next to his lips.

“Samu I missed you so much!”

Osamu watches his twin study them predatorily from a far as you continue to press yourself closer to him not that he minded that part. He minded that his team that had yet to meet you were now watching the scene unfold before them. Out of the corner of his eye, Osamu sees Suna whip out his phone as Atsumu marches over to them. You planning on Atsumu engaging you guys only smile to Osamu as his twin yanks you away from him.

“No, hi Tsum?”

“Hi Tsum”

The amount of venom dripping from those two words even made Kita flinch back. Atsumu only pouted more as you looked back at him unimpressed before turning back to Osamu with a (fake) lovesick smile. Osamu basically groan in his head plays along and brings you back to him. You quickly deciding to escalate this hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. He barely stumbles as he holds you tightly smugly looking at the blonde.

“You’re my favorite Samu. Always so nice, so happy we finally got together”

It’s almost like you stabbed both the twins with that. Whom your oblivious ass was unaware have been pinning after you since middle school. Neither made a rule because if either of them did it would ruin your friendship with both of them. So they locked up their feelings and just supported you and coped in their own ways. You turn just enough to watch Atsumu’s face turn red and him lunge. Being quick,agile and flexible you easily escape before you fall down with the twins. As Atsumu as about to start ripping into Osamu for asking you out Aran, knowing where all of this was going, covers your ears. You think it’s because Atsumu is screaming obscenities, but just before Atsumu can start talking Osamu gives him a hard wack.

“Dude shut up, n/n, is obviously fucking with you”

“Aw I was hoping to kill two birds with one stone”

Sometimes you were extremely bitter, and usually the twins are here for it, but not when it is directed at them. You send them both one last glare before helping them both up. Quickly you give Atsumu a short hug that he doesn��t even have time to reciprocate. Aran walks over and gives you a sympathetic pat on the head before he too got a hug.

“Who is this”

Suna asks putting his phone away raising an eyebrow. He gives you a quick glance over before looking at his teammates expectingly.

“Y/N Y/L/N, the twins childhood friend”

Aran explains gently and quietly. You now over your anger, mostly, give the newcomer a bright smile. The middle blocker furs his eyebrows.

“Why does that sound familiar”

“You see, Y/N here is an Olympic athlete who won three gold medals in 2012,”

Kita claims as he places a hand on your head shooting you a gentle smile that you easily return. Suna has the decency to look at you impressed and with a nod of acknowledgment he drops that. You, however, are now intrigued by the tall man and step towards him.

“And you are?”

“Suna Rintaro”

“Oh, you’re Suna”

“And?”

“Nothing, the twins talk about you sometimes”

“Weird, they never talk about you”

“We do too!”

“Don’t listen to him, Supergirl, we brag about our badass best friend all the time, or at least I do”

Cue Osamu hitting Atsumu upside the head. You laugh it off. Before Kita calls for the boys to change and leave. As everyone disappears into the bathroom Kita walks over to you with a bag.

“I assumed it was suppose to be a surprise to the twins”

You look into the bag to find his jersey and give him a gracious smile. Kita could always tell what was going on even though he hadn’t known you long. He knew it was more then Atsumu’s fan girls or Osamu’s teasing though Osamu’s teasing had something to do with it. He then too goes to change you put that bag in the duffle bag you had brought, so the twins wouldn’t know. Soon they show up no longer sweaty and in fresh clothes. Atsumu slings a arm around your should with such casualty that one might believe it had been done for years (it has been), but you not having any of it give him a tiny pinch. He quickly takes his arm back with a Yelp then glares at you. You merely tilt your head basically begging for him to retaliate so you could put him back in his place. He knows this so he says and does nothing. Osamu having had just watched this whole interaction takes your duffle bag from you.

“You coming over for dinner?”

“Nah really just want to go home and sleep”

You honestly didn’t mean it in a petty way to avoid them. You were tired from the traveling and it was late. Only when you see his face droop do you realize that’s how he took it.

“But maybe come over tomorrow and we could fix Saturday breakfast together”

You offer him a truce which he gladly takes. Neither of the twins like you being mad at them, but sometimes they forget you have feelings. You’re Supergirl to them, indestructible. They walk you to your apartment building and wave at you good night before they leave for their own home. Osamu lays in his bed thinking about the day events. He’s about to go to sleep when his phone goes off.

Masterlist

(A/N: I am sorry that your dialog is pink. I hate when people associate women with pink but it just how it worked out. Also sorry it this doesn’t make sense I wrote it on little sleep. ☺️)

@kaleidoscopekai

#haikyuu osamu #osamu smau #miya osamu #osamu x reader #atsumu smau #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu smau #aran ojiro #kita shinsuke #suna rinatro

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kimjoongs-main · 4 years

Text

golden kiss ; ml

— 「friends-to-lovers!mark au」

—「13.7k words」

—「warning(s): cursing」

—「fluff/angst」

The world was always so dull and filled with various shades of blue and gray. Once in a while, you’d see a flash of green or a splash of orange, but they never lingered. You always wondered what gold looked like.

You would never forget the first time you saw a rainbow. The rain had just begun to dissipate, leaving a single ray of sunshine in its wake. You were around five (maybe six?) years old at the time, accompanying your mother during her weekly grocery runs. You walked out of the store, your grubby little fingers gently grasped in her dainty ones.

You took a quick glance at the sky, letting out a quiet, yet excited, gasp. You frantically shook your mother’s arm and pointed upward, bouncing on the tips of your toes.

“Mommy, look! Do you see that? It’s so pretty!”

Endeared by the vibrant look on your face, your mother simply smiled, kneeling down so the two of you were the same height. She laid a gentle hand on your cheek, tenderly caressing your rough cheeks. She also noticed a streak of brown near the corner of your lips—it was most likely chocolate.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Her husband must have given you a piece after she made it clear he wasn’t supposed to.

She opened them.

Gold.

“Yes, it’s very pretty,” she said with a chuckle.”Very colorful, right?”

You nodded happily, gaze still locked on the pattern of vibrant shades streaked across the otherwise dull sky.

“Do you know which one is my favorite?” your mother asked, tugging your small body closer so that you rested on her thigh. You tore your eyes away from the rainbow for just a moment to shake your head.

She pointed up to the sky and leaned forward. “That one. The orange one.”

You followed where she was pointing at, and you tilted your head to the side.

“Why?” you asked her curiously. Your mother smiled again, shifting you on her leg so that she could place a gentle kiss on your forehead. She closed her eyes, and then opened them once again.

Orange.

“Because it’s the color I see whenever I look at you.”

— — —

Perhaps you should’ve been more prudent, more self-aware. As of late, it seemed as if the world found joy in making sure your life was as dull and drab as it could possibly be. In short, you were tired—tired of seeing the same shades of blue, some lighter and some darker than others. At times, if you were unlucky enough, you’d see gray pop up here and there.

It was becoming ridiculous at this point.

You had no one to blame but yourself, really. You brought this upon yourself, and the only way you were going to get out of it was to stop being so...so…

Hopeful.

Maybe if you were more closed off, more indifferent, then the world would eventually grow bored at your lack of emotion. Maybe it would stop, and you could clear the dullness on your own. It had reached a point where you had almost forgotten what green or red looked like.

Almost.

“Y/n, if you keep dozing off like that someone is going to steal that pizza off your plate, and it’s going to be me.” Renjun poked your cheek sharply, drawing his hand back with a satisfied smirk when you swatted him away with a huff. From beside you, Jaemin snickered.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Renjun,” he said, swinging his arm around your shoulder. “Remember when Mark ate one of her tater tots? I thought I was about to witness a murder.”

You rolled your eyes, shrugging off his arm and taking a bite out of your pizza, sending Renjun a warning glare. He responded by sticking his tongue out at you, proceeding to take a bite out of his lunch. From where you were sitting, you could just barely see Jeno and Mark who were seated diagonally from you. The two of them were hunched over the table, watching something (most likely a video) on Mark’s phone. They would occasionally laugh, sometimes a little too loudly, warranting a harsh glare from the table next to yours.

Renjun and Jaemin had taken to conversing calmly with each other, talking about some assignment that was supposed to be due in three weeks. You had just returned from the library, exhausted and emotionally drained. If any of your friends noticed the bags underneath your eyes, they didn’t voice it.

You almost kind of wished they had. At the very least, it would’ve taken your attention away from the cloudy shades that plagued your sight every time you blinked.

You were just so tired.

“Hey, does anyone know where Donghyuck is?” Jeno asked, finally looking up from the phone, a frown pulling at his lips. “He never misses lunch.”

And as if on cue, the door to the cafeteria burst open, and in came in the man of the hour. Donghyuck had the biggest grin on his face—which wasn’t unusual—but you could tell from the second he ran in that this was different.

And if you weren’t so out of it, you might have noticed the patch of green appearing in the corner of your eyes. Even so, you couldn’t help the small smile that creeped up on your face. Apparently, the others couldn’t either, judging from the way they all collectively let out a breathy chuckle.

Donghyuck’s happiness was infectious to say the least.

“Guys! Guys, you’ll never believe what just happened!” he exclaimed, stopping just before his body slammed into the table. The boy was practically vibrating with excitement. You shook your head playfully and reached out, grabbing onto Donghyuck’s sleeve and tugging him down so he was sitting next to you.

“Calm down before you hurt yourself,” you snorted, patting his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Okay, so you know how Hana and I went on a date last night?”

The entire table nodded. You saw Renjun smirk.

“Well, everything was going super well, and at the end of the night I…” he trailed off, choosing to cover his face with his hands and proceeding to scream into them. The others groaned, urging him to just spit it out.

“You what? Come on Hyuck, you can’t just leave us hanging like–”

“I told her I loved her.”

You froze.

Jeno’s jaw dropped so low, you were afraid he was going to bump it on the table. Jaemin choked on a bite of pizza. Renjun tried to discreetly, but unsuccessfully, hide his growing smirk behind his hand. Mark just looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Blissfully unaware of your reactions to the bomb he had just dropped, Donghyuck continued.

You almost wished he hadn’t.

“And I saw it. I saw–I saw gold,” he breathed as he gripped the edge of the table tightly.

And it was odd—the feeling deep inside your chest. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew it hurt.

It hurt so much.

Now that probably sounded ridiculous. One of your best friends just revealed that he emptied his heart out to someone, and you were sitting there, feeling completely and utterly crushed? Honestly, what right did you have to feel that way? Especially now, of all times? Fuck, maybe you were more tired than you thought.

Jaemin was the first to break the silence. “Holy shit! How did it feel? Was it better than everyone says it is? Dude, come on–you have to tell us everything!”

By now the entire table—save for you and Mark—were engaged in a full blown conversation. You wanted to congratulate him, tell him that you were happy for him. And you were. You were really, truly happy for him. Everyone deserved to know what being in love and seeing love felt like.

But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find a trace of green anywhere.

No, no. You were just being selfish. Yeah, that’s what he said earlier—wasn’t it? He accused you of being selfish, of being unable to feel for him what he felt for you. But you knew he was wrong. You knew there was no way that what he felt for you was worth the same as...the same as seeing it.

But how could you be so sure? You’ve never seen it. You’ve never felt it. You were just basing everything off of blind faith.

But you held onto that hope.

Like an idiot.

You knew it was unfair. You knew it wasn’t true.

Suddenly, your phone chimed, and your gaze flickered over to it. Mark had sent you a text message. You looked up—the others were still engrossed in their conversation; Donghyuck practically had hearts floating around his head. You grabbed your phone, peering at the text.

[Are you okay?]

You almost snorted, but held it in. Honestly, this shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you. If anyone was perceptive enough to sense that something was wrong, it was Mark. But even more so since it was you. His best friend since elementary school. His partner in crime. You couldn’t remember a time where Mark was never there for you. He was your rock.

[I’ll tell you later]

[Okay :((]

[Are we still on for tonight?]

[Are you still paying for the food?]

You scoffed, hiding the playful grin on your lips by biting your thumb.

[Only if you’re driving]

Now it was Mark’s turn to scoff. From across the table, you saw him set his phone down. He picked up a french fry from his tray, sticking his tongue out at you. That caused you to laugh as you put your own phone down, leaning forward and resting your head into your palm. You listened on as Donghyuck continued his heartfelt ramblings.

The way your heart clenched whenever he said that word did not go unnoticed by you, but you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, choosing to tolerate it for now. Your eyes locked with Mark’s, and he flashed you a gentle smile.

A spark of—

Suddenly, you weren’t so tired anymore.

— — —

Mark was seven when he saw you, the new student and also his classmate, sitting alone at recess.

He planted his feet firmly on the ground, wincing when they dragged across the hot sand, and he stared at you curiously for a minute.

You were sitting against the trunk of a tree, head buried in your knees and arms wrapped around your head. From where Mark was perched on the swings, he couldn’t tell if you were crying or not.

Mark waited another moment, watching you carefully, before he hesitantly stood up and walked over to you. He wasn’t the most sociable child, but regardless, he didn’t like the fact that you were on your own. Mark stood next to your hunched figure for a second before he squatted down.

“Are you okay?”

Mark didn’t know how you were going to react, but he wasn’t expecting you to flinch away from him, letting out a startled shriek and pushing yourself back into the tree. You had raised your head, and Mark could see a tinge of red coloring the corners of your eyes.

You were crying.

Instinctively, Mark raised his hands up, palms facing towards you. He straightened himself out—not so much so that he was standing, but just enough so that he was still bent at the waist. He saw the way your hands clenched, nails digging into the soil.

“Sorry, sorry!” he exclaimed, taking a small step back. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just– you were all alone so I thought you maybe...wanted a–a friend?”

You just stared at him, not saying a word, and Mark began to shuffle his feet uncomfortably. Slowly, he extended one of his hands towards you. You flinched away again, but not as aggressively—eyeing his outstretched hand skeptically.

“W-Who..?” you whispered so quietly, unsure if he had even heard you, but he did.

“My name’s Mark,” he responded with a gentle smile. “You’re new, right? I’m in your class. It’s nice to meet you.”

You frowned slightly, brows furrowed as you tried to remember his face. It was all just a blur to you; that morning was rough and exhausting, and you just wanted to forget about it. But for some reason, the longer you continued to look at the boy in front you, the better you felt.

The blue was still there. A lot of it.

But you couldn’t deny noticing the white, hazy shade gradually starting to take over.

And your chest felt lighter.

Mark’s hand was still hanging between the two of you, waiting to either be pulled back or tugged forward. He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. He could see that you were still a bit apprehensive, but he didn’t want to pull his hand away too soon.

And sure enough, slowly but surely, you lifted your hand up and carefully placed it in his own, fingers curling around his palm. Mark smiled, a genuine one, and he shook your hand, firmly but gently.

“I’m Y/n,” you said softly, sniffling. You were no longer crying, and the tears tracks on your cheeks were now considerably dry. Mark took that as a good sign. He crouched down again, making sure to maintain a comfortable distance between the two of you.

You had shifted so that your body wasn’t pressed against the tree anymore. Your knees were still pulled up to your chest, but you didn’t hide your face in them anymore. Instead, you chose to focus your attention at the ground, picking at the blades of grass and tugging them out of the soil.

Now that you had gotten over your initial shock, you didn’t quite know what else to say. You weren’t really expecting anyone, let alone a fellow classmate, to come over and talk to you. Everyone else was running around, playing with their friends, too indulged in their own friendships to even notice that you were alone.

You didn’t blame them though.

You didn’t want to be the new kid. Being the new kid meant having to start from scratch, having to relearn everything. Being the new kid meant change; you didn’t like change. Your parents knew that. They knew you better than anyone.

So why did they—

“Um, do...do you wanna go play on the swings with me?” Mark asked suddenly. Your head whipped at, eyes wide, and he pointed to the other end of the playground.

“You–You want me to play with you?” you trailed off at the end, hesitant and unsure. Mark nodded his head quickly, the small tufts of his hair covering almost the entire upper half of his face. He had this look on him—he wasn’t smiling—but you could tell he was being genuine.

He stood up, brushing the dirt off of his pants, and he extended his hand out to you again.

“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends play together.”

Friends.

He called you his friend.

You liked how that sounded.

Fading blue.

“Y/n?” Mark stood there expectantly, hand inching closer. Truthfully, he didn’t want to rush you, but recess was ending soon and he really, really wanted to go on the swings again before someone else took it.

“Uh, y-yeah. Okay.”

Unlike before, you weren’t quite as hesitant to take Mark’s hand this time. You allowed him to pull you up and drag you over to the swing set. Mark sat in one and you in the other.

The two of you spent the rest of the recess time swinging, and as time passed, it became difficult for you to wipe the huge grin off your face. Next to you, Mark was having the time of his life, giggling as his body flew upwards and shrieking as he was brought back down. His laughter was contagious, and you fortunately fell victim to it, allowing giggles of your own to slip from your lips.

Blue.

Blue?

Green.

A short while later, the teachers came out and rallied everyone up, telling them to go inside and pack their backpacks since it was time to go home. Once you and Mark were safely back in the classroom and all packed up, he asked if you wanted to play with him again tomorrow.

You said yes.

And true to your word, you and Mark met up at the swings again the next day.

And the next day.

When your mom would pick you up from school, you would animatedly tell her about your new friend—to which she would respond by petting your hair affectionately. She told you that you should invite him over one day for a playdate, and you practically beamed.

Green. So much green.

Pretty soon, your school playdates with Mark started extending outside of school. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers, which turned into staying over for days on end.

Your friendship with Mark started off at an odd place. Strangely enough, after your first encounter, he never asked you again why you were crying.

But he didn’t have to.

He figured it out eventually.

He met your mom. He didn’t meet your dad.

That was okay. You didn’t want him to anyway.

As the days, weeks, months, years went by, your bond with Mark only grew stronger. The two of you became inseparable in no time. After leaving elementary, you started middle school together, and then you moved on to high school.

You enjoyed being around Mark. He was always there to cheer you on and hype you up whenever you needed it. Over time, you watched as Mark became more and more sociable, attracting people to him like moths to a lamp. It didn’t surprise you in the slightest. If Mark Lee could manage to charm you—a sniffling, snotty-nosed seven year old—then he could charm pretty much anyone.

His social circle was continuous, always expanding, eventually creating knots and kinks along the way. It was quite overwhelming. Whenever Mark was around his friends, he felt like he was being pulled and dragged every which way—he couldn’t catch his breath. Sometimes it felt like he was trapped in a maze with all of the exits closed off, and Mark was tired of running around. The circle was endless.

But you weren’t.

No matter how many friends Mark made, no matter how many people craved his attention, no matter how much he ran—he always found his way back to you.

And you were always there, sitting at the swings, waiting for him with the biggest smile on your face. He felt like he could breathe again.

And for the longest time, all you saw was green.

And for the longest time, all he saw was…

— — —

“Rough day?” Your mother raised an eyebrow when she saw you walk in, tossing your backpack onto the couch with a huff.

You trudged over to where she was sitting at the kitchen table, tugging your jacket off and plopping down in a chair. Your mother offered you a gentle smile and slid one of two cups that were resting next to her elbow over to you. You peered inside.

It was a cup of tea.

And it was still warm.

You almost cried.

Your mother waited patiently as you sipped on your tea, turning to face the kitchen window and admiring the flowers that were growing in the flower bed. She recently obtained a newfound love for marigolds, and planted them wherever she could see an empty spot of soil.

You chose not to question it.

“He broke up with me this morning.”

Your mother paused for a moment, eyes still locked on the window. You set your mug down, circling your finger along the rim. The steam from the tea hit your skin, providing you with a split second of warmth—a stark contrast to the chill that has been plaguing your mind, body, and soul all day.

You didn’t feel tired anymore, for some strange reason.

After a moment of just complete silence, your mother turned to you. The corners of her eyes were slightly downturned, and from this angle you could just make out the fine wrinkles underneath her lower lashes. It pained you to see them.

Your mother used to laugh a lot, and when she did, you would always see the crinkles in the corners of her eyes scrunch up. It was one of, if not, your favorite thing about her.

“And how are you feeling?” she asked, softly but clearly. She didn’t need to bother with the formalities of comfort right now, which you appreciated. Getting straight to the point sometimes proved to be more beneficial rather than delaying the inevitable.

You snorted. “Would you laugh if I said blue?”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out, laying her hand over yours, stroking it with her thumb. It was a gesture you grew to love; you always tried to offer it to others. Your mother stayed quiet, allowing you to continue.

“I just–I don’t know what to do about it, Mom. It’s not that I’m desperate or anything, but I just—” you took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. “When you start seeing the same thing over and over and over again…”

So much blue. So much fucking blue.

“...you become sick of it.”

You’ve had your fair share of romantic relationships, with each of them ending on an even worse note than the previous one. Every heartbreak brought in a new shade, a deeper one. You’ve never seen so much of it in your life. And yes, from time to time a splash of pink or a sparkle of orange would pop up, as if to remind you that they haven’t left. They were still there.

But you grew sick of them too. You just wanted something else, something different.

You took a glance at your mother, studying her expression. Her gaze was still soft, but her mouth was curved downwards. Her thumb still stroked your hand, and she squeezed tightly every now and then. You wondered what she could see right now. What spot in the spectrum was appearing before her eyes right now?

You were always too hesitant to ask, scared that you would bestow the same gloom upon her that had been bestowed upon you.

But you didn’t know how else to get your answers.

So you took a risk.

“What’s it like?” you pleaded, albeit a little reluctantly. “What does...What does gold feel like?”

You internally winced when your mother visibly stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden question. She clearly had not been expecting you to ask that.

“I’m sorry!” you interjected before she could say anything. “That was insensitive, I shouldn’t have asked. Forget about it, you don’t need to—”

“It’s the best thing you could ever hope to feel.”

You shut your mouth at your mother’s words. Her hand was no longer on yours, pulled back and resting in front of her. She wasn’t looking at you anymore either. Your heart was practically resting in your stomach.

“The first time I saw it, I was overwhelmed,” she continued. “It was such a bright color—so vibrant and so grandiose. I knew right then and there that that was something I wanted to hold onto for the rest of my life. It almost felt..wrong–like someone as mundane as me should not have been allowed to experience it.”

She gave you a smile. Her eyes didn’t crinkle.

But you knew it was genuine.

“And I can’t wait for you to see it, one day.”

Your breath hitched.

How did she do that? How was she able to have so much faith, so much hope, in you? All hope ever brought you were false promises and broken hearts. Hope was the reason you were drowning in this dull, dark haze, wishing for someone to reach in and pull you out.

Yet here she was, gazing at you with enough faith and hope to last a lifetime.

And for a second, you almost believed her.

— — —

You checked the time.

7:49 p.m.

Mark had been gone for about fifteen minutes. You sighed, tossing your phone onto the grass. You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him to be hasty. Knowing him, he was probably making conversation with the cashier, asking him about their day.

Or maybe he saw a dog on his way back and spent five minutes just petting it—

Well, actually you wouldn’t blame him for that one.

But still, you were cold and hungry and if Mark didn’t appear in the next five minutes, you were going to—

“Sorry, sorry!” came Mark’s apologetic voice. “I couldn’t decide which milk tea I wanted, so I was standing there for like ten minutes just staring at the menu.”

Mark came dashing over to where you were perched on the grass, holding your drinks in one hand (how he managed to carry two cups in one hand was beyond you) and two wax paper bags in the other. When he arrived at your little rendezvous point, he promptly plopped down, handing you your respective drink and pastry. You smiled at him, glad to be able to satiate the hunger that’s been knocking you down all afternoon.

You kind of regretted rejecting your mom’s offer to fetch you a snack earlier.

“Why does that not surprise me?” you mused, taking your chocolate croissant out of the bag and biting into it.

“I mean, technically it’s also your fault I took so long,” Mark countered, biting into his cinnamon bun. “You know I get distracted easily. Maybe you should’ve been the one to go inside.”

“Either way, I still would’ve had to wait while your ass jumped back and forth between the tapioca or the poppers—speaking of, you owe me fifteen dollars for the food.”

“Wha—” Mark sputtered. “You said me driving us here would be considered payment!”

You smirked. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you made me wait out here in the cold for fifteen minutes.”

You dodged the small piece of cinnamon bun that came your way, a soft shriek leaving your lips. Mark sent you a glare, but there was nothing harsh about it. You stuck your tongue out at him, giggling quietly.

This was nice. Ever since finals season started, it was hard for you and Mark to meet up. Well, actually you guys did meet up a lot, but it was mostly at the library where the two of you ended up burying yourselves beneath a pile of textbooks and ten cups of coffee. You never really had the luxury to just hang out, just the two of you.

Especially since you were also occupied with your relationship—

Blue.

Fuck.

You groaned, setting your croissant down and rubbing your cheek in frustration. Everything was going so well.

“Is the croissant that bad?” Mark teased, his nose scrunching.

You sighed. “Nope, I’m just an idiot.”

Mark hummed. “Yeah, you are. What’s new?”

You hit him on the shoulder, unamused. He just laughed.

“Kidding, kidding,” he held his hands up in surrender. “Now, what’s wrong? You were looking a bit down earlier too.”

You shifted around so that one leg was resting Mark’s lap, and the other was bent towards you. You leaned back, resting your torso against the base of the lamppost. You took a few seconds to recollect your thoughts, sorting through what you wanted to say and what you wanted to keep to yourself. Meanwhile, Mark took it upon himself to fiddle with your shoelaces, untying them and sticking them inside your shoe. He didn’t prompt you.

He never did.

The two of you could sit there for hours—you refusing to say a word, deciding last minute that you didn’t want to reveal anything, and Mark would be none the wiser.

It was yet another part of his character that you adored. Mark never forced anyone to abide by his means, even if he was dying to know. It just wasn’t like him. He respected people’s boundaries and would much rather eat dirt than ever impose himself on anyone—especially you.

You remember him telling you a few years ago, back when the two of you were still in middle school, that if he ever forced you to say or do anything that you would slap him across the face. Of course, hearing that horrified you (because you would also rather eat dirt than inflict any harm, emotional or physical, on your best friend), but you promised him anyway.

To this day, Mark’s kept that streak going, and he wasn’t willing to screw it up now.

“So, you know Jun, right?” You mentally facepalmed. Of course he knew who Jun was; you spent six months gushing about him—

“Yeah, your boyfriend,” Mark responded, still playing with your shoelaces with a certain fascination you couldn’t understand.

You winced. “Uh...ex-boyfriend, actually. He broke up with me this morning.”

Mark finally looked up, eyes wide. “Really? What happened? I thought things were going great—”

“They were,” you interrupted, biting your bottom lip nervously. “Well, at least I thought they were.”

“What did he say?”

You sighed once more, tilting your head back to gaze up at the sky. If you were in a different situation, you might have made a comment about how pretty the stars looked (and they were very pretty).

But tonight wasn’t the night.

“Um, I’m not really sure?” you admitted sheepishly, eyes downcast. “The last thing I remember was him saying that he couldn’t do this anymore, and that I...I…”

Your throat tightened.

Mark brought his head down and peered at your face, contorted into one that displayed obvious concern.

“You what?” he coaxed.

It was weird. You had never felt so strongly about a breakup before. Sure, you were heartbroken, but it never resorted to anything more than you taking an angry nap or eating your feelings away. Could you even call that heartbroken? You didn’t know.

But what you did know, was that your vision was suddenly blurry. Hot tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to drip down should you make one wrong move. You almost wanted to hit yourself.

This was supposed to be a fun night out with your best friend, whom you haven’t the pleasure of being around for more than an hour at most—and you were sitting here, crying over some boy who will most likely never acknowledge you ever again. You were stupid. You were so stupid. You had never let this get to you this deeply before, why now? Of all times, why did you suddenly think that now was the best time to release your woes?

Or maybe, none of this was ever in your control in the first place. Maybe your body just decided enough was enough and took a risk—throwing itself into a hole with no knowledge that there was going to be some form of a safety net waiting at the bottom. Everything felt like it was on autopilot, and you were stumbling, trying to regain control, but you just kept falling, falling, falling—

And there was so much blue. So much fucking blue. So much of it you couldn’t breathe. You just wanted it to go away and never fucking come back because you were sick and tired and over it and—

“Y/n? Y/n!” Mark shot up quickly, scrambling over to your hunched figure.

You had suddenly burst into tears, and your first instinct was to curl up into a ball. Your knees were tucked close to your chest, head buried deep into them and arms tightly wrapped around yourself. A series of sobs fell from your lips, some quiet and some loud, and your eyes were clenched shut, trying (and failing) to keep the tears at bay. There was a heavy pressure, dragging you down farther and farther, refusing to let up.

It felt like you were seven years old again, crouched next to a tree and crying. Crying because you were the new kid. Crying because your parents fought that morning. Crying because no one wanted to be your friend. Crying because you were all alone.

You weren’t crying over him. No, not anymore. This was different.

This was personal.

Mark could tell that much.

His hands hovered over you, hesitant and unsure. Mark comforting you while you cried wasn’t unusual, but he hadn’t expected you to break down so suddenly—so he was currently stuck in a gray area. Eventually, he couldn’t handle the sounds of your sobbing any longer, so he did the first thing that came to his mind.

Mark carefully grasped your wrists, gently unwrapping them from where they were tightly wound around your head. He paused for a second, checking to see if you were going to resist, then tugged you towards him when there was no response from you. Mark sat back, allowing you to fall into his chest, his arms coming up and enclosing themselves around your shaking figure. One arm cradled your head while the other was thrown around your waist. You buried your face in Mark’s neck, salty tears soaking the collar of his hoodie.

You didn’t know what was happening.

All you knew was that your best friend was there, raw and real.

Your fingers gripped the back of his hoodie so tightly, you almost tore the fabric. You felt Mark’s fingers stroking your hair softly, occasionally massaging the base of your scalp. Your throat ached so badly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop the onslaught of cries that left your lips.

And for the next ten, fifteen minutes or so, the two of you just stayed where you were. Neither of you needed to move nor wanted to.

If you found comfort and healing lying on top of Mark with his arms squeezing you so, so tightly, then who was he to rob that of you?

And only when your heaving sobs died down and turned into weak hiccups, did he slowly remove his arm from your waist. He kept one arm around your upper back, his thumb rubbing your shoulder. You sniffled a few more times before turning your head so that it was no longer hiding in Mark’s neck.

You refused to open your eyes, afraid that you were going to see it again.

So you kept them shut.

“Y/n?” Mark said your name so lightly, you probably wouldn’t have heard it if your ear wasn’t right next to his mouth. “What...What was that?”

His tone wasn’t accusing, but confused. So innocently confused.

You exhaled shakily. Mark held you tighter.

“Blue,” you breathed out. Mark gazed down at you, puzzled.

“Blue? What does—”

“It’s all I can see,” you muttered weakly. “Every time I blink, when I wake up in the morning, before I go to bed at night–it’s all I can see. Nothing else, just...blue.”

The only other person who knew about your dilemma was your mom. You never told anyone else about it. Not even Mark.

Until now that is.

You didn’t have a particular reason—it just didn’t come up before.This poses the question: if you hadn’t reacted the way you did earlier, would you have told him? The answer should be obvious; you never shied away from spilling even your darkest, deepest secrets to Mark. Anything you said was met with no judgement nor scorn, just warmth and understanding.

That’s who Mark was. Warm and understanding.

So it didn’t come as a shock to you when others found themselves utterly charmed by his pure nature. You weren’t the only who was romantically involved with another person. Mark has had some dating experience tucked under his belt.

Your stomach churned at the thought, and the sensation that suddenly spread across your chest was burning. Stinging. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought there were needles pricking into your skin, piercing through and coming into contact with your heart—so fragile, so vulnerable.

You were so foolish. Mark was always understanding of your hardships, but how could you expect him to be understanding about this? This was your best friend you were talking about.

Sweet, kind-hearted, gentle, Mark Lee.

Surely, at some point, he must have felt it too.

“Can...Can I ask you something?” you mumbled, worn out. You felt Mark nod, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Anything.”

“Have you ever seen gold?”

— — –

And for the longest time, all he saw was gold.

However, unlike everyone else, his was more gradual, so gradual he almost didn’t notice it at first.

But it was there.

When you ran into Mark’s arms, tackling him in a hug on the first day of middle school, it was there. When you messed around in Mark’s bathroom during a sleepover, dancing in front of the mirror and pretending you could sing, it was there. When you sent memes to his phone at three in the morning, saying it reminded you of him, it was there. When you asked him to be your date to homecoming freshman year, surprising him with a poster and a stuffed lion, it was there. When you smiled at him, it was there.

Just tiny specks of light, floating around here and there.

It wasn’t until the end of your junior year did he finally realize what it was.

You had both decided to ditch your pathetic attempts at cramming for the final exam, opting to go to the playground instead. Luckily for you, it was only a stone’s throw away from the library. As soon as you stepped foot on the sand, you bolted for the swings with Mark not too far behind you.

For a few hours, it was just the two of you, swinging on the swings like a couple of kids. Neither of you held anything back. It was just pure, unadulterated fun.

And when you flung yourself off the swings for probably the tenth time that night, landing and rolling around on the ground, crevices alight and twinkling laughter escaping your lips, it shone brighter than it ever had before.

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mark’s head, flooding his vision with the most celestial shade of metallic luster—so vibrant, so inviting, so extravagant, yet so tender and intimate at the same time. He could feel his heart pounding, beating against his chest like a prisoner wanting to escape.

And just like how the specks gradually grew, molding into something substantial, something beautiful, it was made alarmingly clear.

Mark Lee.

Sweet, kind-hearted, gentle, Mark Lee…

...was hopelessly in love with you.

— — —

You didn’t know what you were expecting to feel when Mark finally answered your question.

But you certainly weren’t expecting it to feel like a slap across the face.

“Yeah, I have.”

When you arrived home later that night, eyes tinged red and blurred with fresh tears, your mother said nothing and led you straight to bed.

— — —

When Mark arrived home later that night, heart heavy and mind racing, he slumped down in his desk chair, running a hand through his hair. He sighed tiredly.

On the corner of his desk stood a picture frame. It was a photo of the two of you during an outing with the rest of the gang. You were on Mark’s back, arms wrapped tightly around his neck with the brightest grin on your face, and Mark was holding you up, face contorted into his own form of happiness—eyes tightly shut and mouth open mid-laugh. Jaemin had taken it.

Mark laughed, broken and weak.

“Blue, huh?”

— — —

The weekend passed. You didn’t leave the house.

It was Monday. You didn’t go to school.

Your phone kept going off the entire day, flooded with messages ranging from light-hearted to concerned.

Donghyuck: [Skipping today? Tsk, tsk. I thought I raised you better than this, Y/n.]

Renjun: [I can’t believe you left me alone with Donghyuck and Jaemin.]

Jeno: [Y/nnn :( I miss you]

Jaemin: [Hey, is everything ok?]

Renjun: [You good?]

Donghyuck: [Y/n, please respond when you can, just let us know you’re still alive. Jaemin won’t stop panicking.]

No texts from Mark—that didn’t surprise you in the slightest. The last time you saw each other, it ended on a really strained note. After Mark’s revelation, the mood noticeably dropped, and for the first time in your life, being around him felt suffocating.

Your first instinct was to immediately push him away and stand up, quietly suggesting that it was late and the two of you should head home. You refused to look at him the whole way back.

It’s not that you were upset with him, no. Frankly, you were a hot mess and needed some time alone to sift through what’s been floating around inside your mind and to come to terms with the harsh reality.

The blue stayed.

When you woke up the morning after your outing with Mark, you were horrified at the sight of cerulean still present. You had scrambled out of bed, practically tripping over your own feet as you stumbled your way to your mother’s room, throwing yourself onto her lap.

You spent the entire morning and afternoon in her arms. She never complained.

You cried more the next day.

The blue stayed.

You didn’t cry today.

The blue stayed.

You wanted to.

The blue stayed.

But you didn’t.

The blue stayed.

Maybe your ex was right. Maybe you were selfish. You wanted to know what love felt like for so long, but when you’re given the opportunity to, you don’t take it. Then you complain. You were selfish. You were so selfish.

You are selfish.

Selfish.

Sel—

“Y/n?” Your mother poked her head into the room, eyes darting until they settled on your form wrapped tightly in a mountain of blankets. You blinked, confused, and glanced at the clock next to your bed. Your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when you saw that it was almost seven o’clock at night.

Were you really in bed the whole day?

“Dinner’s ready. Go wash up and come downstairs, okay?”

Now you’d be lying if you said that the smell of your mother’s cooking didn’t automatically lift up your spirits. If the feeling could be compared, it would be like receiving a much needed hug after a particularly bad day—it’s always the little pieces of happiness that have the largest impact.

Unfortunately for you, no amount of happiness (little or otherwise) was capable of effacing even an inch of the azure canvas before you. It served as a grim reminder of all the pain and loneliness you subjected yourself to, and it only became worse from that point on.

You were blue personified. You weren’t like your friends who embodied shades much brighter than you will ever hope to experience.

Donghyuck was a bright orange; he brought unrestrained strength with him wherever he went. He was the glowing embers in a dying fire—refusing to put out and providing just enough guidance and solidarity to those who needed it.

Renjun was a deep scarlet; his greatest weapon was his sharp tongue and even sharper wit. He was the faint rouge on unsuspecting cheeks—prying into the minds of those poor souls who dared to cross him or the people he held near and dear to his heart.

Jaemin was a vibrant pink; his love language consisted of tender touches and whispered affirmations. He was the sugary taste of melted sweets—casting a spell upon those who have only ever known bitterness and distrust.

Jeno was a dazzling white; he surrounded himself with nothing but pureness and wholesome adoration. He was the moon on a dark, stormy night—creating a path for those who found themselves trapped within the cage of loneliness and despair.

Mark was…

Mark was a combination of every color known to man. He fit everyone’s color palette—no matter how picky theirs were. He was the lush shade of verdant grass in a painting of a meadow. He was the lively pop of lavender in a cave of coal and rubble. He was the dazzling blink of gold, reflecting its luminescent nature on your otherwise gloomy navy.

Your mother said nothing as she set a plate down in front of you. You watched her float about in the kitchen, opening drawers and collecting utensils. Despite the dull ache in your chest, you forced yourself to flash her a smile when she returned to the table, holding a large bowl of what seemed to be a mixture of vegetables and spices (whatever it was, it made your stomach grumble). The smile was anything but genuine, but it was a far cry from the one you tried to give her when Mark dropped you off a few nights ago.

The two of you ate in silence, having already exhausted any and all energy to strike up some small talk. Even if you hadn’t, you didn’t think you had enough brain cells to be able to hold a proper conversation. Your mother wasn’t much of a talker either, which you were grateful for.

Once dinner was over, you took both yours and your mother’s plate and brought it over to the sink, shooting down her offer to wash the plates instead with a shake of your head. You didn’t really feel like returning to your bedroom anytime soon, and a distraction was what you really needed at the moment. You heard soft footsteps lead into the living room and a few seconds later, the sound of the news channel rumbling from the TV. You busied yourself with washing the dishes, purposefully taking longer to scrub down on the plates and utensils.

You were so zoned in on washing that you didn’t hear the doorbell ring, nor did you hear your mother getting up from the couch and opening the door.

And that’s when you heard—

“Oh! Mark? What brings you here?”

You were grateful the water rushing from the faucet was loud enough to hide the sharp noise of a plate being dropped into the sink. You froze where you stood, refusing to believe what you just heard.

“Hi, I-I’m sorry to bother you, but uh–is Y/n home?”

You paused, waiting for your mother’s response. You could tell she was hesitating, debating on whether or not she should tell the truth. Mark wasn’t stupid. You knew he could hear the faucet running and the only other person who would be in the house was you, but you also knew Mark respected your mother as if she was his own—if she said you weren’t home, he wouldn’t argue and simply bid her a goodnight, walking back to his car and going home.

As for you, you didn’t know if you wanted to see Mark or not. One part of you wanted nothing more than to just cower behind the counter in the kitchen, but one part of you was begging to go out there and talk to him—to apologize for the scene you caused that one night and clear the air between the two of you.

“Yeah, she’s home.”

You weren’t sure if the breath you let out was one of relief or pure terror.

“Y/n?” your mother called. “Mark’s here to see you.”

It was now or never.

You shut off the faucet and hastily dried your hands with the dish towel, ignoring the way your fingers shook when you dropped your arms to the side. You exited the kitchen and took a step into the living room. Instantly, your attention landed on your best friend, who was awkwardly standing by your front door. When Mark felt the presence of another person in the room, he lifted his head, sending you a quick quirk of his lips when your eyes made contact.

If it were possible, Mark was more of a mess than you were. He was donned in nothing but sweats and a hoodie with the hood pulled up so that it was almost covering the top half of his face. From where you stood, you could just barely make out the dark shadow lining the area just above his cheeks.

Looks like you weren’t the only one who hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

Your gaze flickered over the right where your mother was standing by the couch. Catching her eye, she sent you a quick nod.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone to talk,” she said, brushing past you and back into the kitchen. “Call me if you need anything.”

And just like that, the two of you were alone. Neither one of you had moved an inch or said a word—too afraid to be the one who pulls the switch first. Not once in the years that you’ve known each other did either of you feel this sort of stiffness with each other. Even when the two of you first met as kids, there was no awkwardness, no hesitation—just you and Mark. From the moment you met, the two of you worked so well together.

If seven year old Mark and seven year old Y/n can see you right now—see how the two of you can barely even look at each other—there’s no doubt they would be confused.

“Do you…” you started. “Do you wanna talk about this in my room?”

You were half expecting Mark’s answer to be “no,” so you were surprised to see him nod his head once and start heading over to the stairs. When he noticed you weren’t following him, he paused on the second step and peered over his shoulder. He tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you coming?” he asked. “Or are you just going to let me raid your room by myself?”

The corners of his lips quirked up again, and your mind short-circuited at the familiar teasing tone in his voice. You didn’t realize it until now, but you missed him. Granted it’s only been a few days and you’ve gone even longer without seeing each other before, but this was different.

“Touch any of my stuff, and I’ll make sure you aren’t leaving this house alive.”

Mark snickered.

You followed him upstairs.

— — —

Joke’s on you for thinking that this was going to be easy.

It was anything but that.

Mark sat comfortably in your desk chair, fingers twiddling with the cup of pens placed just within his grasp. Meanwhile, you were sitting on the floor with your back resting against the edge of your bed. It had been approximately five minutes, and neither of you had spoken up. However, unlike before, there wasn’t an air of awkwardness surrounding the two of you. It was definitely lighter, mure subdued, something akin to the silence that usually succeeds your more intimate conversations.

It was familiar to say the least.

Mark leaned back into the chair, and his head lolled to the side, deep brown eyes burrowing into yours. Judging from the look on his face, you could see that he was giving you the opportunity to speak first.

Ah, screw it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out the words without thinking. “I’m sorry for...what happened that night.”

You winced slightly at how ingenuine your apology sounded, but it was an apology nonetheless. From the way your heart was pounding incessantly against your chest, you were expecting to pass out any second now. This shouldn’t have been that hard, yet here you were, struggling to even get a mere apology out. You ran your fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots, keeping your head down low to avoid seeing Mark’s expression.

“I totally just threw all of that on you and freaked out without explaining anything. I’m sorry for ruining our night out, and I’m sorry for ignoring you all weekend.”

You swallowed thickly, staring at the ground and just wanting Mark to say something—

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured softly, so softly you almost didn’t hear him. “And if anyone should be apologizing, it should be me.”

Your head whipped up so fast as you sat there, dumbfounded. What could Mark possibly feel the need to apologize for?

“You don’t—”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. His hands were clasped tightly together, resting against his lap. He had tugged the hood down, exposing his signature disheveled locks. The glow of the moon seeping in through your curtains bounced off of his skin, and you found yourself unable to look away.

It almost looked like—

“What were you thinking about?” you asked.

Mark shrugged his shoulders, such a casual gesture in stark contrast to the serious mood that enveloped the room as soon as the two of you walked in. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw Mark’s pupils tremble.

You chose to ignore it—for now.

Mark cleared his throat, letting his head fall forward and straightening his position in the chair. His gaze was locked on the door, staring straight, but his words were directed at you.

“Everything you said to me that night, about the blue—was it true?”

He might have misinterpreted your prolonged silence succeeding his question because Mark was quick to interject.

“Not that I thought you were lying or anything!” he waved his hands up, finally shifting his gaze towards you. “I’m just—”

“Yeah, it’s true,” you said quietly.

Mark’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape, and his eyes flickered back and forth between you and the floor. Your lips stretched out into a thin line, not really sure as to what Mark was planning here. Other than him, the only other person you’ve ever talked about this to was your mom—and even then it was to a certain extent.

“You asked me if I’ve ever seen gold, and I said yes,” Mark continued, but he sounded less hesitant this time. You nodded slowly, confused but curious as to where this was going.

Mark bit his bottom lip so hard you were afraid he was going to start bleeding. The knuckles of his hands were beginning to turn white from the way he clenched his fists so tightly. You leaned forward slightly, lips set into a frown.

Mark was nervous.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him like this, yet you couldn’t help but let your worry shine through. Whatever this was about, it was serious.

“I thought I was the only one who experienced something like this,” he said. “I thought that there was something wrong with me—that I was broken or defective or something was wrong with this whole color thing or—”

Mark was full on rambling now, and you shifted forward quickly, resting a gentle hand on his knee. Your voice was soft as you gently coaxed Mark to calm down and breathe.

How ironic.

You watched with careful eyes as Mark shut his own, forcing himself to breathe deeply in and out. Once he was settled, Mark opened his eyes again, and you almost gasped at the intensity of his gaze as he peered down at you.

“I see it everyday,” he whispered hoarsely.

“See what?”

“Gold.”

Your face paled.

You almost wanted to laugh—to scoff in Mark’s face and tell him that that was impossible. But you knew saying that would only make you a walking contradiction.

You didn’t know if it was the shock that came with the revelation or if it was simply exhaustion catching up with your weak constitution, but your hand fell away from Mark’s knee, and you slumped down, shoulders relaxed and head bowed. Mark said nothing as he watched you stumble back, scanning your face and searching for a sign—a sign that told him it was okay to keep going.

Ever so slowly, you lifted your head back up, risking a glance in Mark’s direction. In that brief moment, Mark caught the tiniest sliver of urgency in your eyes, encouraging him to continue.

He swallowed.

“I don’t...I can’t pinpoint exactly when this started happening,” he breathed. “Maybe junior year? All I know is that I woke up one morning and that was all I could see.”

He remembered that day so clearly. When Mark first opened his eyes, he almost fell out of his bed from the sheer shock of it all. He ran into the kitchen, scaring the life out his poor mother whose scoldings died on her lips once she noticed the panicked look on her son’s face. He was so overwhelmed at the sight of such an extravagant, intimate shade plaguing his very existence that it drove him to tears.

It was safe to say his father was both amused and confused when he arrived home from work, seeing his wife donning misty eyes and a tender smile whilst holding their youngest in the tightest of hugs.

Mark had never felt an emotion so strongly in his life, and it was all because of—

“Who…” you said hesitantly, wringing your hands together. “Who is it?”

You weren’t the type of person to force someone, especially your best friend, into revealing something they weren’t comfortable with. But with how Mark was looking at you with the most conflicted expression you’ve ever seen, curiosity overruled your moral pride, and you scooted closer.

“Mark,” you pressed. “Who is it?”

You could tell he was fighting an internal battle, but you didn’t know if he was fighting against you or himself. He bit his lip harshly, eyes flickered all around the room, trying to focus on something—anything!. It was almost like Mark was trying to avoid making direct eye contact with you, as if doing so would reveal even more secrets—more than what he was comfortable with.

Mark had always planned to tell you, except later rather than sooner.

But the longer you stared up at him, crevices crystalline and laced with just the thinnest layer of concern, the harder it was for him to ignore the glimmer of gold, glowing brighter than it had ever done before.

Mark laughed sadly, bending forward at the waist, close enough so that his face was mere inches from yours. He pretended not to notice the way your entire body stiffened at the close proximity.

He faintly registered the feeling of his heart skipping a beat.

“It’s interesting,” he murmured softly, breath hitting your face. It smelled like peppermint. “No matter how dark the room is, it always seems to shine brighter whenever you’re in it.”

You were blue personified.

Blue.

Gold.

Shine brighter whenever you’re in it.

It took you a minute (maybe two) to completely register what he just said. You blinked, mouth parting slightly. Eyes wavered back and forth from the open window, streaming in a sliver of light, back to the set of brown crevices, streaming in a light of their own—something brilliant, something vivid.

And that’s when you realized.

You felt a jolt of electricity course through your veins—from your lower back all the way to your fingertips. A quiet shriek left your lips as you fell back onto your palms, causing Mark to lurch back slightly, not expecting you to have such a knee-jerk reaction. He was undeniably perplexed, but before he could ask if you were okay, you opened your mouth, words tumbling from your lips at an incoherent and alarming rate.

“A-Are you–Are you...is it–it’s not…” you paused, taking a second to breathe. Mark waited patiently, but his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

“It’s not...me, is it?” you croaked.

Understanding finally dawned on Mark’s face, and he smiled—a little lighter this time.

“Yeah, it’s you.”

You should have been happy. You should have jumped at the news, really. Surely, if you were any other person—any other normal person—you would have rejoiced at the fact that Mark Lee, the boy who everyone pined for, the boy who every mother dreamed of having as their son-in-law, confessed his feelings for you.

Confessed his love for you.

But you weren’t happy. You didn’t feel that familiar flare of joy coursing through your blood, providing the heat and glow of adoration to your chest. Your heart rate sped up, but for different reasons.

You weren’t happy. You were devastated.

Blue.

Selfish.

Blue.

Selfish.

Blue.

You didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

“No,” your voice trembled. “No...Mark, you can’t.”

You didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

Mark gaped at you, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

You shook your head frantically, pushing yourself off of the ground and making your way over to the other side of the room. Shaky fingers brushed through your hair as an equally shaky breath fell from your lips.

You didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

Your arms fell to your side, and you swiftly turned around, face contorted into an expression that closely resembled heartbreak.

“You can’t love me,” you sniffled, clenching your fists to keep the tears at bay.

“W-What? Why not?” Mark was genuinely confused, and your vague explanations certainly weren’t helping.

You didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

You winced as if he had yelled. “You just can’t.”

“Y/n, you’re not making any sense,” Mark said firmly, shooting up from the chair. He was no longer confused, but annoyed. “Where is this coming from? What do you mean I can’t—”

“You just can’t, Mark,” you hissed, releasing your hold on the dam, letting it break apart and drip down your cheeks unrestrained. You scrunched your shirt into a fist in front of your chest. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to be seen the way you see me—not if I can’t see you in the same way.”

Years of pent up frustration and hurt had finally burst through, unrelenting and inscrutable.

You wet your lips. “You wanna know what happened, the morning after we hung out? I woke up, and all I saw was blue.”

Mark’s stern expression faltered. You wiped a tear away.

“My worst nightmare had come true,” you choked. “I spent so long wishing—hoping—that I would one day know what it feels like to open my eyes and be met with nothing but pure joy and love. In my past relationships, all I’ve ever wanted was to give them what they gave to me, but I-I couldn’t and–and they took it so badly and I—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Mark, I can’t do that to you,” you said weakly. “You mean so much to me. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You wiped away the remaining tears on your face but gave up when a fresh batch of tears flooded over. There was a pounding sensation in your head, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you went to bed tonight with a raging headache.

During your little rant, your vision was so blurred (whether it was because of the tears or the blue, you didn’t know) that you failed to notice Mark was now standing directly in front of you instead of from across the room.

Your body jerked when you felt his hands grip your shoulders. Mark was bent slightly at the waist, just enough so that you didn’t have to crane your neck to look at him. His face was set into a scowl.

“You’re such a dumbass,” he hissed, tears of his own beginning to slide down his cheeks.

He removed his hands from your shoulders, bringing them down so they wrapped around your own hands, squeezing hard. You started, stepping back—

“Do you really think it’s that easy?” he scolded, wanting to sob and yell and flick you on the forehead all at the same time. “Do you really think–I can’t just force myself to change, Y/n. I’ve spent so much time feeling what I feel that it’s become almost impossible for me to feel anything else.”

You trembled, and Mark squeezed your hands tighter.

“I don’t choose to love you, Y/n—I just do!” he stressed. “And whether or not you think you deserve it does not change what I feel for you—”

“Mark—”

“Your past relationships don’t define you,” Mark continued. “And if you think I’m just going to stand here and listen to you say that you don’t deserve what I’m giving you, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

You glanced down at your conjoined hands, and Mark gently rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles.

“You deserve to be loved, Y/n. And you deserve to love, too.”

“And I can’t wait for you to see it, one day.”

The words your mom told you all those days ago rang clearly in your mind, as if agreeing with everything that’s been laid out in front of you.

And you wanted to listen so bad.

But it was hard to focus on anything else when all you could see was a blanket of navy.

You shook your head, pulling away from Mark’s grip and wrapping your arms around yourself, protective and secure.

“Mark, I don’t know if I can,” you pressed. “Nothing’s working. Every time I think I feel something, I open my eyes and it’s all just blue!”

You threw your arms up in frustration, clenching your fists, fingernails digging deeply into the skin.

“It’s only been like this for a few days, but I-I’ve felt this way for so long,” you hissed, eyes misty. “I just want it to stop. I want it gone—all of it! Even if it means I’ll never be able to see the color blue ever again, then that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Mark said nothing, and he stepped closer.

“It’s just so...draining,” you drawled, tired of it all. “I can’t even think straight—can’t even go two seconds without being reminded of something that is out of my control!”

And closer.

“Of all the colors, why did it have to be blue?” This wasn’t you talking to Mark anymore. No, you were talking to yourself. “Why couldn’t it have been orange? Or red, or green, or purple? It could’ve been any of the others but of course—with my luck, it had to be blue. Why...Why couldn’t–Why couldn’t it have been—”

“Gold?”

You felt your mouth seal shut. Mark was back to standing directly in front of you, but closer this time. You peered up at him, trying to focus on him rather than the clump of teardrops blurring your vision. His expression was no longer set into a scowl. It was softer, more tender—could maybe even be described as longing. It was a look you recognized all too well.

It was the same look he gave you whenever you surprised him at work. It was the same look he gave you whenever you made silly faces at him during class. It was the same look he gave you whenever you acted a fool in public.It was the same look he gave you whenever you smiled back at him.

The signs of Mark’s love had always been there.

You were just too much of an idiot to realize it.

“Mark, I–” you stammered. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

He smiled sadly. “Sorry for what?”

“For not noticing it sooner.”

Mark chuckled, gently poking your forehead with his index finger. “Sorry it took me this long to tell you.”

You both went silent, taking a moment to bask in the other’s presence. It was all so strange. A few minutes ago, you were crying your eyes out, fearful at the thought of potentially ruining whatever it was you had left with Mark—friendship or otherwise. But here you were, standing so close that you could just barely make out every line and every crease on Mark’s face, tears dried and nowhere to be found (that went for both of you).

The air was different now, a little tight, a little tense. But it wasn’t the tenseness that was there before. It was more...intimate. You no longer felt like your throat was closing up, making it difficult to breathe or to focus. Your skin felt flushed and tingly all over, shivers running up and down your spine.

You risked a glance up into Mark’s eyes, and you were positively blown away by the sheer amount of emotion they conveyed, piercing right through you and landing a heavy blow on your heart and lungs, effectively knocking the wind out of you.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you noticed Mark’s hand come up, raising ever so slowly until it hovered a mere centimeters away from your cheek. He stopped at the last second, right before he made contact, and stared at you intently.

“Would it be totally selfish of me,” he breathed out a laugh, “if I said that I really wanted to kiss you right now?”

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to cry. You wanted to shove his hand away and ask him why—after all the shit you just said to him only a few minutes prior—why he wanted to. You almost did. You had a whole spiel ready and waiting for you to pull the trigger and kickstart another wheel of jumbled up insecurities and fears.

But you lacked the energy to do so.

You didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

You laughed, raw and broken. “I’ve been selfish this whole time. Why not even out the playing field?”

Barely a second passed when Mark’s hand finally cupped your cheek. You almost gasped at the feeling of warmth enveloping your skin. He carefully caressed the surface of your cheek with his thumb, smooth yet calloused at the same time. You raised your arm, lightly wrapping around Mark’s upper arm, just above his elbow. You could feel his eyes studying you, searching for any sign of discomfort.

After what you just went through, the last thing Mark wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered. And the way he said it was practically dripping with his love and adoration for you that you almost burst into tears again. You nodded, slowly but surely, and brought up your other arm to rest your hand on his shoulder.

“I trust you,” you breathed. You truly did.

“What if…” Mark paused, choosing his words carefully. “What if...this doesn’t change anything? Will you be okay with that?”

Emotions had this sick, twisted way of messing with someone’s head whilst simultaneously manipulating the heart in the same fashion. They were completely out of your control, and it was a thought you had difficulty coming to terms with. As for your game plan if this experience proved to be futile—

Well, you’ll worry about that when the time comes.

For now, you were too distracted by the feeling of Mark’s soft hands against your skin to even come up with some substantial answer. But you still tried.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t really know,” you admitted, taking note of the way Mark’s lips quirked down. Your hand on his arm moved, fingers dragging along the fabric of his hoodie, stopping once they arrived at Mark’s hand on your cheek. You held onto it.

“But if it does, will you be okay with it?”

It was one thing for you to end up feeling exactly what you were feeling right now—it’s happened before, why not now? But it was another thing for Mark entirely. You were his best friend, the person he loved. If after the kiss you don’t feel any different, you don’t want that to end up tarnishing your long standing friendship. You meant what you said before—you didn’t want to hurt him.

Mark shifted even closer. He tilted his head forward, the tip of his nose just barely brushing against yours. Your grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Like I said before,” He wet his lips. “It’s become almost impossible for me to feel anything but love for you.”

If there was any remaining distance left between the two of you, it was promptly closed when Mark’s lips connected with yours. At first, neither of you moved and stood there frozen, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Then you felt Mark’s lips gently move against your own, coaxing your lips to move against his.

Mark tasted like peppermint. It was his favorite sweet treat. Ever since you were kids, Mark would always bring a piece or two (just in case you wanted one) with him in his pocket or lunchbox. You remember a few years ago, Jaemin had gifted him with a jar full of peppermint candy, and you swore you’ve never seen his face light up so quick.

Mark’s lips brushed yours, gently and delicately, like flower petals, giving you enough time to react. You trailed your hand up from Mark’s shoulder, following the path of his collarbone and curling your fingers around the base of his neck, tugging him lower, closer.

He responded quickly, cupping your cheek and jaw and resting his other hand on the curve of your hip.

The two of you continue to kiss like that—languidly and cautiously.

And for the longest time, nothing changed. Fireworks didn’t go off as soon as your lips touched. There wasn’t that ‘spark’ you saw and heard all the time from the movies you’ve watched. There was, however, the dreadful moment where your heart slowly began to sink.

Joke’s on you for being so hopeful.

But as the kiss progressed—as Mark pulled you forward so that you were flush against him, arm once again moving to wrap around his neck, and you craned your head upwards, deepening the kiss, that’s when you saw it.

It was so small, small enough to go unnoticed by someone who’s had the pleasure of being in its presence before.

But you saw it.

It started off as a mere twinkle of light, highly miniscule and not even worthy of recognition. But then it grew, and grew, and grew until it was no longer a fragment of light but a raging fire, burning and searing, taking over every single one of your senses: touch, taste, smell, hearing, and most of all—sight.

The sensation was so overwhelming, so sudden, that you abruptly broke away from the kiss, shaking and heaving. You stumbled forward, and Mark yelped in surprise, swiftly catching you in his arms.

“Y/n?” his voice shook with concern. “Y/n, are you okay? What’s wrong? What is too much? Did I—”

But you couldn’t hear him.

You couldn’t feel him.

You couldn’t see him.

Because all you could see…

...was gold.

For the first time in your life, you saw gold.

And it was so beautiful.

Your senses heightened tenfold, causing a tempestuous swirl of glowing embers and gleaming stars to surround every inch of your trembling body. The sensation was almost too much, too immense of an emotion colliding with the walls of your weakened heart. You vaguely registered the touch of Mark’s hands, shaking you gently.

“Y/n? Y/n, hey—look at me.” Mark cupped both of your cheeks, tilting your head up so that your eyes met his. He was taken aback, unsuspecting of the overflow of light and mirth staring back at him.

You gripped the front of his hoodie, scrunching it up in your fists.

“Mark,” you mewled softly. You didn’t notice you were crying again until Mark’s thumbs wiped beneath your lashes. “Is gold always this bright?”

Mark’s ministrations came to a sudden stop. His mouth parted in shock, a disbelieving gasp escaped from his lips. His hands trembled from where they rested against your cheeks. He wanted to slap himself across the face—to make sure that he hadn’t misheard you.

But when you gave him the most radiant smile he’s ever seen, Mark wanted to fucking melt.

This was real.

He loved you.

And you loved him back.

Mark wasted no time. He shook himself out of his dazed stupor and surged forward, crashing his lips onto yours, hard and persistent. In an instant, the mood of the kiss changed.

There were no more delicate touches and gentle coaxing, just frantic desire and fiery passion.

You shrieked, one hand reaching back to steady yourself against the dresser as Mark practically hovered over you, holding you to him so securely as he kissed you desperately. You returned the kiss with much fervor, riding off of the high that came both from Mark’s intense love for you and your equally intense love for him. You threw both of your arms around his neck, dragging him downwards.

Despite the intensity of the kiss, Mark’s touch was still soft, still tender. He held you like you were a piece of glass, fragile and prone to damage at even the harshest of touches.

You couldn’t help but choke out a sob against his lips. You should’ve been embarrassed, but Mark simply parted from you, choosing to press quick, gentle kisses along the surface of your cheeks instead, wiping away any tears that still remained.

When he was finished, he gave you one last kiss on the lips, and rested his forehead against yours, two earthy globes filled with buckets of levity and devotion gazing back at you.

“I love you,” Mark professed breathlessly.

God, you felt so euphoric.

You laughed weakly, tugging him back down and pressing your lips to his briefly.

And again,

And again.

Until every last drop of blue was completely effaced, replaced with the color of your love instead.

Never in a million years would you have ever seen yourself wrapped up in the arms of your best friend, sharing kisses of gold and professing words of commitment—

But you were happy.

You were loved.

And you loved back.

— — —

In hindsight, you probably should have replied back to your friends before crashing the night before because once you stepped foot onto campus, you were bombarded with three large bodies jumping on top of you.

“Y/n, you’re back—”

“I missed you—”

“You didn’t answer my texts—”

“I’m happy you’re still alive—”

“Hyuck—”

“Ow! What was that for?”

You laughed (though you were struggling), untangling yourself from the mess of limbs and backpacks, stumbling backwards, body colliding with a sturdy chest. You looked up and were met with the familiar eyes of the boy who took your breath away only a few hours before.

Mark smiled down at you warmly, patting the top of your head.

“Hi,” he beamed.

“Hey,” you responded, and Mark chuckled, finding your hand and intertwining your fingers together.

Gold.

You grinned, squeezing back.

Gold.

The sound of collective gasps brought your attention back to the group of boys in front of you. Donghyuck’s mouth was opened wide, jaw slacked. Jeno and Jaemin’s eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, and Renjun just stood there, looking appalled.

You waved your fingers at them. “Uh, guys? You okay?”

Renjun was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat and gesturing towards yours and Mark’s conjoined hands.

“Mind explaining that?” He raised his eyebrows.

You looked at Mark, then back to your friends, then back to Mark, an awkward chuckle leaving your throat. Mark just shrugged.

“It’s a long story.”

Jeno reached over, lifting Donghyuck’s jaw and closing his mouth. The latter seemed to finally get a grasp on what was going on, and he strode over to the two of you.

“Both of you. Lunch. Don’t be late. Don’t run away. I will track you down.” He jabbed a finger in both of your faces, and you gulped, knowing better than to argue with Donghyuck when he meant serious business.

You threw your free hand up in surrender. “We’ll be there,” you promised. Donghyuck nodded, accepting your genuity of your response, and the stern look on his face went away instantly, melting into one of acceptance and understanding.

He turned back around, grabbing the straps of Jeno and Jaemin’s backpacks, dragging them through the doors of school.

“Let’s go slowpokes! I can’t afford another tardy!”

Renjun simply shook his head at the two of you, but you didn’t miss the way his lips curled up ever so slightly. He shooed you guys along.

“You heard him, lovebirds. Get moving.”

There weren’t enough words in the dictionary that you could string together to be able to describe just how giddy you were. As you pulled Mark down the hallway and to your first class, you couldn’t wipe the expression of pure joy off of your face.

Once you reached the door to the classroom, you were about to head inside when Mark suddenly jerked you back into the (almost) empty hallway. You barely had time to react as he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” He grinned widely.

You pressed your lips together, shoving at his chest playfully. “You–You’re...God, you’re such a romantic,” you muttered, refusing to meet Mark’s eyes. “Just–Just go. You’ll be late for class.”

You huffed, gripping the straps of your backpack tightly, fingers turning white. You promptly turned away from Mark and marched right up the doorway. He chuckled at your retreating form, shoving his hands into his pockets, about to head across the hall and into his own classroom, when you looked back over your shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

Unable to handle the onslaught of warmth rushing to your cheeks, you offered a meek nod and scurried into the classroom, leaving Mark to stand there, dumbfounded and a little bit of a fool in love.

You plopped down in your seat, reaching over to smack the back of Jeno’s head when he stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag. Jaemin snickered.

In all honesty though, you couldn’t be annoyed. You’d take their teasing comments and Mark’s overbearingly affectionate gestures over sulking in bed any day.

You set your bag on top of the desk and whipped your phone out, taking a few moments to indulge yourself as the morning announcements came over the loudspeaker.

When the notification popped up at the top of your screen, you almost swore with happiness.

[Have I ever told you how good you looked in gold?]

458 notes · View notes

khadij-al-kubra · 4 years

Text

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

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Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon*

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that.

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy; he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses. “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I’m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn’t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

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the-second-tonks · 3 years

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hey! i heard you are doing a really cool avengers game and i would like to participate!’🥳 i’m a straight female and here are some info about me

basics

capricorn sun, libra moon and leo rising : ENFP/ ENTP i keep going back and fourth with those mbti types

i have medium length black wavy hair

i’m tan but not tan tan

people say i have expressive eyes lol

average height

likes and dislikes

likes

socializing, i enjoy meeting new people and hangout out with others

i like science and social studies they r my favorite subjects in school. i also like art and pe

taking risks and big adventures

traveling, spontaneous activities and shopping lol

dislikes

people who are always serious (although i like to push their buttons), no humor and dull

being restrained, underestimated

people not being nice to one another

people who can’t carry convos (it doesn’t bother me a lot but still)

personality

i’m extroverted but can be a tiny bit shy

i like the hustle, and really passionate and determined - action oriented

im very humorous and witty and creative

people mistake my friendliness as flirting (but im a huge tease)

i like to see the big picture; and get carried away with multiple projects bc i may not finish them all.

i have a loud laugh

kinda competitive

in romance i like to keep switching from chasing my partner to them chasing me (just for the thrill)

hobbies

i like hanging out with my friends/family, learning new stuff, cooking (i try), napping, playing sports (i try), biking, playing my flute and drawing.

fun facts about me

i’m left handed but can write with both hands

i can wiggle my nose without lifting my eyebrows

i can raise and wiggle both of my eyebrows

i kinda have a lot of stamina and could run fast

chat noir and rena rouge are my fav characters from mlb! i like their personality and their powers!

people say my personality is kinda like Black Cat from the Spider-man comics expect i lean more towards the heroic side hahah

i tend to fall for ENTJS, ISTJS, and ESTPS 😫😫

my comfort characters from marvel are peter, steve, rocket (the racoon, i think that’s his name), steve, ant man and groot

i’m a gryffindor

ships

from the ship request, i believe you shipped me with peter parker/spider-man. but i’m also curious to se my secret admirer if that’s fine

and that’s it!! i tried to minimize but keep things precise at the best of my abilities! i hope it’s not too much and i’m excited to see my life if i were in the MCU!! have a great day and take care!! 🥳🥳💞💞

Hii! Okay , it's a bit more than medium , but it's fine ! Okay sure ! You also asked me to add you fall in love quickly and also your comfort character is thor . But again, the decoration is so beautiful !

Coming back to your ship .. thank you for participating !

Your power is

Super strength !

Wow wow . This is so good . Okay , I know you already have much stamina , but for your adventures and stuff , I guess you'll have this . From your birth . Yes . You'll be always the one who's oh so powerful and stuff . Your strength will give you popularity . Not just this , ofcourse you'll be one of the best additions in the team of Avengers . You'll always be the one who's compared to Steve . Let's face this , you might not be able to defeat him sometimes , but that doesn't mean you don't win . You would be a tad bit smarter than Steve and so , you might win many times .

Your life with the Avengers

You were the one who had like three sisters and two brothers . In-short , a big fat family . But in tug-of-war , you alone vs all of them , still you'd win with few efforts . Because you were born with super strength . All , everyone from the neighborhood used to ask you mother about your diet and activities , but it was just what normal people ate . Okay , now having supers strength didn't mean you were so bulky and stuff , you had toned body , perfect for a girl. You were often the one who stood in front of the bullies , and the bullies simply ran away because they know who you were. You were quite popular in your neighborhood , until a team member (Tony Stark) from the famously called Avengers , sent you a letter . He asked you to side with him in the civil war . You did , but you also met the boy called Spiderman , Peter Parker . You and hit off really well as soon as you both met . Fighting together through the war , you also encountered Wanda , who appreciated your bravery and smartness before you knocking you out (bonus - you were caught by Peter before you could hit your head to the ground ). Finally , from fighting saving the wizard on Tony Stark's orders to following Peter into the spaceship , you were now battling Thanos with Doctor Strange , Peter Parker , etc . Strongly standing against him , you were still fighting until you got knocked out . Waking up, you saw doctor strange giving the stone to Thanos , who disappeared. Everyone was fine now , but the situation was tense . Suddenly , people began disappearing . Your eyes travelled to Peter , your love , who was already looking at you . He stumbled , staggered and fell down , whispering how he was feeling. He simply gave you a full-of-love gaze and disappeared .

With a new hope and a bit excitement of the risk , you stood on the machine beside Thor , the cool guy . Soon , from going back in time with Thor and Rocket to fighting against Thanos again , you saw Peter enter through the hole . All alive and well. You knew it wasn't the right time to be emotional and so, you contained your excitement and continued to fight . Finally , after saving Tony Stark with your witty brains , science and help , you all returned back . Reuniting with Wanda , you talked about the severally things you both had missed out . Later but yes , the boy Peter , did find some courage to ask you out .

Your bestfriend would be

Wanda Maximoff !

"Wanda , forget it. You won't be able to do it" your competitive nature spoke as you tried to discourage (jokingly) your bestfriend Wanda . She had been trying to wiggle her nose without raising eyebrows to raising and wiggling both the eyebrows , just like you do . And all you were doing was laughing at her attempts . Okay , it was really funny . The weird crooked faces she made , oh lord . "Okay , I give up . I know I can't do this , but I definately can beat you in running " she huffed but spoke the last part smirking . "Without magic" you added , informing her not to cheat .

After the run , Wanda was lying on the floor , exhausted but you still had the energy to stand . Looking at her with a big smirk , you let out a friendly hand which she took . But she was yet not done friendly competiting you . She tried writing with both hands , again she ofcourse couldn't manage it . Then , she took the biking challenge (almost cheating in it) , the drawing challenge was just fun (because she drew you so wierd and kept laughing at it for full one hour ) , the cooking challenge (okay , she nearly won in it) to playing sport . At the end , your score was quite higher than her , but not to deny the day was fun . Cue you playing flute , that peaceful sound filling the house and soon , Wanda's loud snoring accompanies .

Your s/o would be

Peter Parker !

Your laugh echoed through the empty corridor as Peter ran in your direction . The boy , Flash Thompson excused himself on seeing Peter , your boyfriend . You smiled at Flash before turning to Peter and hugging the boy who was almost out of breath . "Hey Peter !" You chirped . "H-hi Y/N" he greeted back . You and him had decided to go on shopping after grabbing some of your cooked meal which he loved .

Walking to the table , you both sat on it . You slowly removed your tiffin and offered Peter , who smiled and picked up the first bite . Ordering you some food , you both were peacefully eating except for some disturbing glances from Flash Thompson , who not so secretly admired you and thought you deserved someone better than Peter , someone like He himself . After finishing the science class with Peter , you both set out for shopping. The complete while , during shopping , Peter was looking at you as if you were some princess . Ofcourse he did treat you like that , but you felt something off . As if this treating was much of lowering himself than hyping you .

When you both returned back to your house with full bags he was silent during the whole walk . He didn't laugh or blush at your teasing . You were shocked at his behaviour and seeing the bigger picture , you concluded that he was tired . But no , you missed the minor details . The way he kept looking between flash and you in the canteen , the way he was always looking around to see a girlfriend and boyfriend enjoying themselves and then letting his head drop with dejection and how he simply listened to your witty jokes and teasing . Finally , when you both sat on the couch to check out the dresses , you spoke "what's up spideyboy ? Something gor you tired?" . He simply smiled and continued to look through your dresses . But you knew that look. The broken look . Immediately you dropped the dresses and hugged him . As expected by you , he let it out . He cried . Balled his eyes out . "Y/N , I-i'm really s-sorry for th-this . B-but really , we bot-h know you fa-all in l-love pretty quickly-y . Mayb-be you-u made-e a m-mistake in m-my case. And m-maybe , y-you des-serve a g-guy lik-ke Thompson , wh-oo ca-an make you l-laugh and s-smile ." You shushed him and spoke "P , I do fall in love pretty quickly , but do you realise I've been in love with you for 7 years ..and everytime I think about you , just the thought is enough to make me smile " . He released you from the hug , confused . You replied "yes p , 7 years .. did you forget the five years of the blip?" .he smiled teared eye and spoke "We . Are going to New York . Tomorrow itself . Start packing" and with that , you hugged him again .

I hope you liked it !

Thank you for participating !

#tani plays games #game for you all

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burgerkang000 · 3 years

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Email for better love lives

I HAVE A NAME FOR THIS ONE YAAAAAY

im doing the read more thing, cuz u know scrolling ugh

@beyoncesdragon @aixy-hpsa (if anyone else wanna be tagged, let me know!!!)

This is a Yunho fic!

enjoy?

You met San at a compulsory public speaking class, where only you both had to attend for grades; it was filled with nerds who came voluntarily. And your bond begin with bored out glances at each other and loud sighs exchanged. And after that you guys hung out a lot, went to get coffee while doing homework, caught rides with each other, and waved whenever your paths crossed.

You met Yunho when San wanted you to meet his friends that he wouldn’t stop talking about, which made you slightly jealous; you yearned for a bond like that. You pushed that thought away, nothing good comes with jealousy. And while San and his friends would go about their own business, you would stick to the side-lines, not knowing what to say or do, even though they try their best to include you.

Yunho would be the one to keep you company, actively telling you about his day and attentively listen when you were asked about yours. He would also help you study and take you out to grab coffee when San would be too busy.

Anyone would be a fool to not fall for Yunho, with his smile that make his eyes crinkle at the corners, teeth on display, fluffy hair. Who wouldn’t fall for him, at least you could keep it inside, and no one had to know.

“Look at Yunho in this picture, he looks so handsome” San shows you the pictures from your quick break before the exams to the arcade. You take a glance, damn. You know that the moment you open your mouth, you’re screwed.

“Hmm”

“I don’t like it when you’re vague”

“Yes Yunho is cute” That’s all you plan on saying anyways, but you had to panic, because what if San thinks you’re not commenting on it too much and picks up that you’re crushing on Yunho? Ok, so you were overthinking.

“Too cute that it’s impossible he exists, I mean I see him every day but it’s not like I believe he’s real, there is a limit to being cute and all. I mean a recreation of a Greek god- I mean he should be a Greek God himself-”

You were cut short by San’s exploding laughter and as you voice your confusion to him, he still laughs until you violently shake him-

“Yah! Why are you laughing?”

He finally calms down enough to tell you-

“Just say you have a crush on him”

You open your mouth to deny-

“Admit it~” He says scrolling through his phone again.

You huff out, San was your best (read: only) friend, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, so you nod the tiniest bit, and San grins from ear to ear.

“I mean, I didn’t see it coming, but when you started rambling off like that, it was obvious.”

You sigh.

“You tell this to anyone, I will personally murder you”

“Sure sure”

And after that, he thankfully let you change the topic.

Ever since then, whenever you’d meet Yunho, right after that, you’d whip out your phone to text San; something vague like-

“He’s wearing a red sweater”

“He dyed his hair blue!”

“Kill me”

And then you’d go home and text San about how a person; a human, cannot simply be so beautiful, and ramble off about him.

“But sir, I don’t have an email” You tell the professor, who has just asked to submit your assignment by mail.

“Don’t whine to me, and make one, is there a student your age without email? How do you have social media accounts?”

“I don’t have them” you reply

“Just make one, it’s extremely useful, and won’t take much of your time” He said, in a brushing off manner, guess he doesn’t believe you.

You nod and sigh as you leave to the next class. If you can’t whine to your professor, you can whine to Yunho. Who listens to the whole thing like the god damn angel he is, and as you open your phone to create one, he gently coaxes it out of your hand, asks you if it’s okay if he creates one for you instead and when you nod he turns his attention to the phone, while you’re just dumbly staring at your hand, where Yunho’s hand made contact with yours.

“Look, I sent my self a mail using yours, lets chat on mail for a while, you can get used to it” He says, you nod, and talk for a while, and then Yunho had to go. You wave at him while he leaves and you text San.

“What’s your mail?”

And when you finally get it, you send him a mail.

URGENT: JEONG YUNHO TOUCHED MY HAND, I REPEAT JEONG YUNHO TOUCHED MY HAND, MOM COME PICK ME UP PLEASE.

I MEAN HE WAS FABULOUS TODAY TO, IF IT WASN’T OBVIOUS; HIS HAIR WAS SO SOFT I CLIKED A PIC, LOOK:

[Image attached]

DO ME A FAVOUR, WHEN I DIE, SIT ON THE VERY SAME CHAIR HE’S SITTING ON, LOOK AT THE SAME DEIRECTION HE’S LOOKING AT AND BURY ME THERE, WHILE YOUR AT IT PRINT THIS ON MY GRAVESTONE.

WHEN I DIE PLEASE TELL HIM I LOVE HIM IN THE OTHER WAY.

BYEBYE

Later that day you get a reply from San saying that you’re too dramatic and an email from Yunho, which you didn’t think much about the time. He was the one who wanted to talk in mail, so you open it and-

And you realise you accidently send it to him too.

*cue freak out*

“So I must have send it to him too-” San blinks at you for a while and then-

Laughs at your face saying random things like

“This is gold”

“Nonononono”

“Never in my life- never”

At this point, you think he’s just spewing English vines that he’s been watching a bit too much to be considered healthy. And now you’re overcome with sadness, and as soon as he notices, he starts apologising and you bow you head, you think you look like a rag doll, and then cry. And san runs circles on you back, occasionally tucking strands of hair behind you ear and wait till you finish.

After a good while of snot- running type of crying, puffy eyes and ringing ears, you start to ramble, a habit that got you here in the first place.

“I don’t think I’m ready for rejection, I mean I was perfectly fine watching him from the side-lines. Heck I would watch him get married and I’d probably say nothing, like I’m not dying inside, proceed to get married, I’m crying tears of happiness-”

“What makes you so sure that he’s going to reject you?”

“I don’t know ok? But this isn’t a movie, he sees me as a friend and I had to go and catch feelings for him.”

San sighs.

“So, what’re you going to do now?”

It was hard, but you finally managed to blackmail San to help you avoid Yunho situations.

“And how long do you plan to do this?”

“Until my plane ticket and Visa to Alaska are approved and I change my name to Veronica Fall”

He looks at you, and the look speaks for itself, you’re being dramatic. You raise your arms in mock surrender and flop on top of the bed.

“Tomorrow everyone is hanging out, Yunho will be there, you coming?”

You pointedly grin at his cheeky expression, and he mimics the way you had surrendered just a few moments ago.

You stare at the response you had given to all the missed calls from Yunho.

I’m busy

Sorry, I was showering

I’m going to be busy for a while.

And you watch as the three dots move, and then stop and then move again, you feel as if your heartbeat moves along with those dots, stopping when it disappears, and then finally a response.

We need to talk, I gave you your time, and it’s not fair.

You feel like this is a new side of Yunho you haven’t seen, an assertive one. And you realise, just because you’re a coward, doesn’t mean that you can leave Yunho in the dark, even though you have fears of Yunho leaving you, getting awkward; deep down, you know, that Yunho, he��d never treat your feelings as something useless. And that makes you feel more in love.

And who knows unrequited love may not be so bad, maybe, just maybe; for Yunho it might not be so bad.

Fine

After sending the last text, you get up to clean the place, take out boxes littered about, and books and papers all lying about that you haven’t cared to put away. You do the dishes, and tie your hair into a pony, you’re distracting yourself from the real problem of facing him, for now you let yourself do it; later, you can scream at yourself.

And a right when you reach for the broomstick that you had tucked in deep behind the storage room; you hear a knock at your door.

You don’t think much about it, until you open the door. Low and behold; Yunho was standing at the doorway, a determined look on his face and he walks past you into the house.

You can’t help but think; geez, come on in. But you’re just salty.

And he opens his phone and shows it at your face, too close to read, practically in between your eyes, its touching your nose too. And you’re the dramatic one.

“Explain; explain this email, that was, I figure, supposed to be sent to San, explain why you’ve been avoiding me and my calls, and wherever I go right after I replied to this, I’m not going or letting you go until you do.”

And his voice cracks at the end bit, but you don’t notice, you’re in a bubble of thinking; thinking how to phrase this, just overthinking; maybe.

And moments which feel like hours pass, and you decide to do this the ripping off the band aid way. But it turned out more like the ramble it off way

“I like you? No, no that came out wrong… I love you? Yes, I’m pretty sure I love you, and don’t worry I know you’re not into me that way-”

And you don’t know what really happened; there was a hand on your face, right under your nose, and he was right in front of you.

“Sometimes, everything you say is nonsense.” He breathes, you open your mouth to respond, and he applies more pressure with his palm, to keep you quiet. You can’t help but think of the way your lips mouthed at his palm, not the time; not the time at all.

And then he continues.

“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that, the moment I got that email, it took me a few minutes to understand, but when I did, I already pictured our five adopted cats, not gonna lie”

Your eyes widen in shock, did he just indirectly say he like you back, in the form of cats? This is why you fell for him in the first place.

“Did I creep you out? I must have creeped you out, forget I said that.”

And you laugh behind his palm, and he slowly removes it, moves it to your shoulder, drags it down the length of your arm, and interlocks it with your hand, a sweet smile on his face, the contagious one, so it’s only law that you smile back, teeth and all, since you can’t hold it back.

“We should go on a date.”

“That; we must.”

You were on one of your many dates, too wind up in each other to not notice the others who also wanted to hang out with you, you totally kept the news from San; you and Yunho are in this together, so he needs to also be comfortable with telling San, after a lot of thinking, you both settle on letting them find out, which may take years to get in their daft heads, but for now, you both have put fate in them.

San caught on way too quickly, the moment you enter the café and sit down, he says-

“So you’re not moving to Alaska? Or is your husband; Yunho moving with you?”

You blush and look down-

“Look, I can explain-”

And he breaks into a wide grin,

“I’m happy for ya”

You and Yunho were scrolling through many of the messages you have send to San; the ones fawning over Yunho, as much as he likes to get you flustered, he himself also gets flustered, so it’s a win-win situation.

“They haven’t caught on yet” you suddenly say.

It’s true, other than San none of them have caught on yet that you both have been dating, and that’s kind of weird, since it’s been almost a whole year.

But it’s not like you’re gonna sit them down and tell them. You and Yunho have a better plan.

Well you have a better plan.

“-and they walk in on us!”

“…..”

“Or not?”

“No”

You end up inviting them over for dinner, and as they take their first bites, you happily chirp in that you’re dating and Yunho adds that you’re moving in with, leaving everyone to choke on their food, except San, who had a cocky expression, which soon turned into a choking fit, who’s cocky now?

And Wooyoung looks up, and goes “Wait, you’re serious” and continues choking, this time on nothing.

48 notes · View notes

puckyess · 4 years

Text

I Hope Part 2 | Roman Ahcan & Brock Caufield

For the morning crowd: Get your tissues ready! I’m super happy with how this turned out. Let me know your favorite part. Listen to the Afterglow/Ghostin’ mashup for some extra sadness (linked on my blog). S/o to @penaltbox for getting this one going ❤️❤️

*Italics indicate flashbacks

*** FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED***

Words: 10.1k

Part 1 // Part 3

“I forgive you, Ro, I really do. It’s the forgetting that’s the hard part. I can forgive, but I can’t forget”

Your words hung heavy in the air and he accepted them graciously. You had just basically rejected Roman, the least you could do now was offer him a place to crash for the night. While his apology had brought you some nice closure, you weren’t ready to jump into a relationship with him and at this point, you weren’t even sure you wanted to anymore. He definitely still had a hold on you, but that’s what scared you. He had just piled a lot on you and you needed some time to digest it all. Doing that with him a room away was not ideal, but you didn’t have the heart to throw him out, especially at this hour.

“Do you want to stay here tonight? It’s late, well early now. I don’t want you out this time of night” you asked him. It felt odd to ask him to stay in a non romantic way after everything.

“On the couch?” He shyly questions.

You crack a smile at his shyness, a contrast to the overconfident Ro you were used to getting. “Yes, on the couch, Ro”.

He agrees after some prodding and that’s how you find yourself digging through the drawer that used to be his, but is now someone else’s, for clothes for him to wear for the night.

He watches you and can’t help but stare at the back of your shirt. “We play for each other” written in the signature Wisconsin font. Who’s was it? Were you dating someone on the team? How had he missed that? He’d admittedly gone through your social media a lot lately and hadn’t detected anything unusual, just the regular back and forth chirping, no flirty interactions, but now he was going to have to go analyze the boys’ comments. Would they do that to him though?

He’s broken from his thoughts when you stand up and say, “These are Brock’s but they should fit, you guys are like close to the same size”. His eyes zoom in on the red 29 on the leg of the sweatpants in your hands.

“Of fucking course” he thinks to himself. He should’ve known Brock would weasel his way in the first chance he got. He tried to not let his irritation leak into his voice as he thanked you for Brock’s clothes and you pretended to not notice the way the muscle in his jaw twitched when you said Brock’s name. It was just like old times.

—

You laid in bed that night, unable to fall asleep. Tonight had brought up so many feelings and memories. You thought long and hard about the boy sleeping on your couch. From the first time you encountered his fiery temper, to your roller coaster of a time together, to the night that everything went to hell and the mess he left behind.

Living across from a quarter of the men’s hockey team was a blessing and a curse. They were constantly yelling and tonight was no exception, this time accompanied with incessant pounding on a door. You shouldn’t be nosy you kept telling yourself, but a little peek through your peephole wouldn’t hurt anything right? If only you had known how much he would come to change your life.

You peered out just in time to see the boy laying another beating on the door and then putting his whole body into yelling, ”Fuck!”, dropping his head back in defeat when his efforts were met with silence. He must be locked out. You take a deep breath and open your own door, propping yourself against the door frame. “I was going to invite you inside, but with a temper like that I don’t know that I should?” You tease him, sending a little smile his way to let him know you were only giving him a hard time.

That was the first time you had seen that smirk you love so much spread across his face. You would come to find out his name was Roman and he quickly became your person. Well, besides the other boy in your life who was your best friend.

The highs of your relationship with Roman were so high. You were borderline inseparable with each other. He did everything he was supposed to as a boyfriend, he was the type of guy that you’d proudly brag to your family about, the one your friends looked at and said “I wish”. He could be sweet and thoughtful, and had a spark to him that you adored, his temper the first time you met him, proof of that. He was that little rough around the edges kind of guy that every girl chased, a little mean to everyone but you. You were his soft spot and for a while, you couldn’t have written a better love story. In hindsight things were probably too perfect, you should’ve seen the storm that was brewing.

Between the friction between Brock and Roman and Roman’s wandering eyes, the lows could be pretty low. It was the same old fights every time, always starting and ending the same. Roman never acted on his insensitive behavior, but it still didn’t sit well with you. You tried not to play the jealous girlfriend part too often but sometimes it would just build and build until you snapped and then you both engaged in loud arguments, leaving a sinking feeling in your stomach, but Ro always managed to patch things up afterwards with flowers or warm baths that made you forget all about what had just transpired, at least until next time.

Roman’s jealousy would shine at moments too. He’d call you out saying, “You baby Brock too much” and that “You shouldn’t worry about someone you’re not dating as much as you do. He can handle himself, he’s a big boy” anytime you’d defend Brock, and then under his breath he’d mumble “He’s too soft already” and that drove you crazy. You’d frown at your boyfriend's lack of empathy and ill feelings toward one of the most important people in your life. You had heard some of the stories the boys would tell you and you knew he called Brock soft to his face and you hated it. You loved his temper, but not when it was directed toward your best friend. You had no idea why the boys hated each other so much. Part of the reason you were always so nice to Brock was to make up for your boyfriend's behavior, though if only you knew the half of what Roman said to Brock. You’d called Roman out on it multiple times and instead of apologizing, he’d say, “It’s not like it’s not true. You know it, I know it, and he knows it”. You of course can’t just sit around and leave B out to dry when he wasn’t even around to defend himself so cue another fight. The cycle was endless.

You had half expected Brock to come over and check in on you the night that Owen sent you that picture and your world had caved in on itself, but he had only sent you a simple text that said “I love you. You’ll get through this, I’ll help you”. And then he was at your door the next morning with coffee and a shoulder to cry on, ready to let you grieve and then when you were ready, to pick up all the pieces.

You finally fell asleep that night, not thinking about the boy who had torn you apart but instead about the one who had helped you to grow and become who you were today.

Roman laid on your couch, his mind going a mile a minute. You having a drawer full of Brock’s clothes answered his earlier question about the T-shirt. He hadn’t asked about it though, not wanting to start a fight. You always had a soft spot for the kid. It was one of the very few sore spots of your relationship.

How could he not hate Brock’s guts though? The kid had a huge stinking crush on you and you had no clue, you just continued to show him affection and give him your attention. He thought about all the times you’d go running to Brock after you two had gotten in an argument and he did know about all of them because Brock would waste no time in posting to his Snapchat. But never in a way where it could get turned on him for rubbing it in Roman’s face, it was always just enough so that Roman would know he was with his girl but if Ro dared to bring it up to you you’d take Brock’s side no matter what. You stuck up for Roman in every other situation and would fight a whole hockey team for him, but not when it came to Brock. He wasn’t blind, he knew that Brock could steal you without even trying, though he did credit the kid with trying.

He thought about all the times he had dangled the carrot over your head, practically telling you about Brock’s feelings for you and how you’d watch as Brock’s cheeks reddened and defend Brock and tell Roman to knock it off. He thought about the time that Brock had caused yet another fight by telling you about some locker room talk. That was the first time you had threatened to break up with him and damn it if that didn’t fuel his hatred for his teammate.

Roman sat in his stall, trying to get dressed for practice, but was unable to because all he could hear was Brock’s voice. Normally he could just block it out, but today he was talking to Alex about you and well, he just couldn’t have that. He was downright gushing as he happily told him about grabbing dinner with you at the Union the other night. He rolled his eyes as he bent down to tie his skates. It was time to remind Brock who you belonged to, who had won and who had lost. He begins to tell Tarek and Josh all about the activities that had taken place after your little dinner with Brock. He bragged maybe a little too loud about things you’d hate knowing he talks about in front of the boys, just to make sure Brock heard. Normally, Brock would sit back and take it. He knew that Roman messed with him to get a reaction out of him. But today he was degrading you in front of everyone and he wouldn’t allow that, so he speaks up on your behalf.

“No one wants to hear how quick you are in bed, Ahcan. She probably doesn’t appreciate it either”.

Roman’s face twisted into a smirk knowing he was about to hit him where it hurts. “Shut up, Caufield. We all know you wish you could please her like I do. 30 minutes or 30 seconds, it’s still more than you’ll ever get with her”.

The locker room falls silent and Brock bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. The amount of disrespect Roman had just shown you made him sick. It takes all of his self control to not tackle Roman in the middle of the locker room. Luckily, his brother keeps him busy as he goes to lunge at Roman, himself. Brock has to throw an arm across his brother and shove him back to his stall. “Don’t”, he says, shooting him a dangerous look. “He’s not worth it. I’ll take care of it”. Cole’s fuming, as he aggressively grabs his stick that’s fallen to the floor in the hustle of things. “You better”, he says as he storms out of the locker room, shoulder checking Roman along the way.

He’d kept his mouth closed about all of Roman’s other taunting and bullshit, but this was unacceptable. He couldn’t let this slide. You deserved to know that your personal business was being spread out for all to hear in the locker room. So he grabbed his phone and sent you a quick text. “Your boy keeps running his mouth about all your bedroom activities in the locker room. Figured you should know.”

When you read the text your heart dropped. It was basically one of your worst nightmares. All of your business and most vulnerable moments on display for a bunch of guys who could pick you apart and look at you differently. You had trusted Roman enough to give yourself to him and this is how he respected you? You felt so many things, but betrayed and angry were at the top of the list. You were ready to lay into his ass when he got back from practice.

You let Roman have it the second he walked through the door. He brushes your feelings aside, as he’s more concerned with who told you.

“I knew that little shit would go running to you”

“It doesn’t matter who told me, but I’m glad they did! There’s two people in this relationship, not a whole locker room”

“Exactly, Y/N, there’s two people in a relationship, the key word being two, not three. Tell Brock to fuck off”

“God, that’s not even the point, Roman. It’s like I speak and you just don’t even listen!”

“How am I not listening? You just said there’s two people in the relationship and I agree with you, but Brock thinks he’s one of those two people and so yeah, maybe I had to remind him who gets to please you in bed and that’s not him”

“If you ever. Fuck and tell again, I swear to God Roman, you’ll be single. I’ll dump your ass so quick. No more kill stories in the locker room.”

While he knew your threat was probably hollow because of the darkness that had taken over your eyes ever since he mentioned pleasing you in bed, part of him should’ve known to never doubt you.

Brock had won that round, you had put Roman in his place rather than him putting Brock in his. He couldn’t stand the fact that you spent so much time with someone who he knew for a fact wanted you as much as he did, especially someone who was the polar opposite of Roman, himself. What if you woke up one day and wanted the sweet guy? Roman knew he wasn’t sweet. The gentle, always doing the right things guy? He tried to show that side of himself to you, but he was generally hard headed, feisty, and anything but just plain old nice. Brock already seemed to fill so many places in your life, he couldn’t let him take over the boyfriend role too. So he made sure Brock knew his place and he had been chastised by you more times than once for it. And apparently it hadn’t worked because it looks like he took his place anyway.

It made him question the night everything went down. Was Brock the one who had sent the picture? He doesn’t remember seeing him there, though he doesn’t remember a whole lot from that night besides the fight. Your look of hurt had stayed with him but he had someone else to go to during that time so he had put the little detail of how you had managed to get the picture in the first place to the back of his mind. Laying here on your couch now, it would make perfect sense for it to have been Brock. He had always had a nagging suspicion but never talked to you about that night.

—

The bye week couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. The boys had hit a rough patch, having lost three weekends in a row now and the tensions in the locker room were high. The combination of losing and Brock’s history with Roman made for a stressful past month.

Brock breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t spot Roman anywhere in the bar. Some of the guys had decided to blow off some steam and reset for the upcoming weekend by going out tonight. He scanned the room once more making sure he didn’t see you, but since Roman wasn’t here he didn’t assume you would be either. Ever since you had started dating him, you barely went anywhere without each other much to his dismay. Yes, he had feelings for you but that didn’t change the fact that you were also his best friend. He missed you in more ways than one.

“Dude, she already said she wasn’t coming out tonight”, Ty said, nudging his teammate.

Brock replies instantly, “I don’t know who you’re talking about”. But he knows he’s been caught looking for you again. He doesn’t say anything about the fact that Ty had known who he was looking for without asking.

Owen shows up then with an arm full of beers and a handful of shots. Brock throws back a shot with barely a grimace. It was going to be one hell of a night.

Flash forward a few rounds and the boys are rolling. It had been a fun, easygoing night, exactly what everyone needed. That is until Brock turns his head and spots a certain someone a few tables over. His eyes narrow and he has to do a double take.

His jaw clenches and his hand that wasn’t holding his drink, balls up. He swears he sees red as he looks on at the scene playing out three tables over. He reaches over and grabs Owen’s arm so hard Owen says ow and swats his hand away.

“Please. Tell me that isn’t my Y/N’s Roman making out with that girl?” He says through gritted teeth. He can’t take his eyes away.

“There’s no way..” Owen trails off in disbelief. That was most definitely a girl straddling Roman, her tongue down his throat and that girl was no where close to being you.

The rest of the guys look over then at what has their teammates so dumbfounded and the same silence spreads across the group amidst all the noise of the bar. With ten pairs of eyes burning holes into their faces, the pair continues to make out in the corner, as if you weren’t at home waiting for your boyfriend to return to you.

Brock is livid. He slams his glass down so hard the liquid splashes out and he’s ready to rip Roman to shreds. How could he do that to you? Sure, he had always had an issue with Roman, how could he not? Roman had the girl he had been crushing on since the first day he met her and Roman had no problem rubbing that in his face any chance he got. But he did make you happy (most of the time) and that’s what mattered to Brock. This though? Throwing all of that away, your trust, happiness? It made Brock want to cave Roman’s face in. Nostrils flaring, he’s up and out of his seat.

Owen is quick to grab B’s arm and frantically looks to the other guys for help. Owen’s taller frame was no match for Brock’s 5’9 one when he was fired up and boy, was he fired up. Cole was in front of him then and shoving his older brother back in his seat.

“You can’t go fighting him right now. Not now, not here in the middle of a bar” Cole says, trying to talk some sense into his furious brother.

Brock was seething. “Who does he think he is? This is going to kill Y/N, I’m going to fucking kill him!”

O backs Cole up, “Your brother’s right, man. We all love Y/N, but you and I both know how she is when it comes to Roman. She won’t like that you threw the first punch”.

Brock’s shaking his head at that, he knows they’re right. You always gave Roman the benefit of the doubt and it really grinded Brock’s gears when you made exceptions for Roman. He took you for granted and didn’t appreciate you the way Brock knew he could.

“She probably wouldn’t believe me, just say I’ve always had it out for him. She’s not wrong but I can’t be the one to tell her about this”.

The boys all agree on this and finally Owen says, “Why don’t I just send her a picture? She can’t deny it if it’s right there in front of her, right?”

Brock finally agrees with a small nod. He hates that he can’t just knock Roman out right there. And he hates even more what this picture is going to do to you. He wishes you would’ve just picked him and you never would’ve had to deal with this pain. But you hadn’t, you had chosen the more exciting boy, with his flaring temper and charming smirk. You chose to pass over the cute, boy next door who was everything you needed but nothing you wanted.

—

You should have known that word would get out somehow that Roman had stopped by. The boys hockey team was worse than old women at tea time when it came to gossip.

You barely had time to register the neatly folded blanket and clothes on your couch before your door was swung open and a very pissed off and hurt looking Brock is storming through it, coffee in hand.

“Well good morning to you too. What’re you doing here so early?” You said in the middle of a yawn.

He shoots you an irritated look. “Early? It’s past noon, Y/N. Or is your long night with Roman screwing with your head again? I can’t believe he had the audactiy to show up here after everything.” The venom in the way he says Roman’s name has you rolling your eyes. Roman had been..civil about Brock last night. Though you noticed the way he tensed about the clothes, he hadn’t said anything. Brock was your rock, your level headed one and yet he was the one speaking out today.

“You do realize this is my apartment you’re standing in right? And my business? And my life?” You’re annoyed that he wants to have this argument again and right after you woke up. He was not catching you at a good time.

Brock had a hard time hearing it wasn’t his life. It was like his hands were pinned behind his back. Roman being back in your life very much affected his own because that would mean he’d lose you again and you were very much a big part of his life.

“Roman staying the night has nothing to do with you” you tell him, plopping yourself on the couch. You catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across Brock’s face, along with something else you couldn’t quite place as you reach for your coffee.

Brock felt like he had just been slapped in the face. He had always been there for you, that night and every night there after. He had finally gotten his best friend back and at times it felt like he could have more than that and now you were just brushing him off like his opinion meant nothing. It absolutely killed him that you couldn’t see how much this had to do with him. He was there for you, he’d always been there for you and yet he couldn’t be there for you in the way that he wanted to because you wouldn’t let him.

He wanted to shake you. “That’s where you’re wrong, Y/N. This has every bit to do with me. I was there when he broke you and I helped you pick up the pieces. I let you cry on my shoulder, sleep in my bed. Not just that night but so many times before that. Or do you not remember why ice cream is our thing now? Or all of the walks home we’ve had? And all of the games of pong we’ve played? I’ve put up with so much shit from him for you and I’m sick of seeing you get hurt over and over by the same guy when you deserve so much better than that”.

You weren’t insecure by any means, but everyone had their days and today just so happened to be yours. You had a long day at work and didn’t really want to go out to dinner with the guys, but you had already promised Roman and Brock that you’d be there.

You trailed behind Roman as he led you to the table. Brock immediately noticed that your smile was off as you leaned in to give him a quick hug, not wanting to set off your boyfriend. He gave you an extra squeeze and then released you. He noticed the little frown on your face when the waitress shamelessly flirted with Roman in front of you and Roman made no effort to stop her, even giving into her banter and eyelashes. Wanting to see you smile again, he gave you a little nudge and asked if you were getting the kids’ meal, poking fun at the fact that your ordered chicken fingers everywhere you went. You cracked a smile and playfully punched his arm and then got serious again to tell him that yes, you were in fact going to devour some chicken’s fingers, which he chuckled at.

However when it got around to being your turn to order, Roman spoke up for you. “She’ll just have a salad.” He says to the waitress and she shoots you a look that says she agrees with that being an appropriate selection for you. “Aren’t you trying to start that diet? That’s what you said when you were jumping into your jeans before we got here. Now’s a good time to start” he asks you rather loudly. Your face heats up, embarrassed, but you mumble a “yeah, I guess” and close your menu, handing it to the girl and then looking down at your hands in your lap. Brock is absolutely speechless and the rest of the table is equally uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to deck Roman, he wanted to wrap you up in his arms and tell you how perfect you were even more.

When you snap Brock later that night, you’re by yourself and your face is still in a frown. He knows he has to do something about it, so he asks if you want to go get ice cream with him. You snap back that you really shouldn’t and you’re biting your lip and it makes Brock throw his head back with a groan. Why did the universe hate him so much? He leaves you on open, but grabs his keys and ends up showing up at your door.

“B, what’re you doing here?” you question. Your hair is thrown up in a messy bun and you’re in a pair of sweats and a baggy Badgers hockey tshirt. You look so beautiful and natural, he has to really concentrate to remember what exactly he’s supposed to be doing.

“You said you wanted ice cream?” he said with a smile, as if it were obvious.

You smiled back. “I believe I said that I shouldn’t get ice cream”.

He wouldn’t be taking no for an answer tonight. “No, I think you said you should get ice cream. Go get your shoes or don’t, but we’re still going”.

You shake your head at your best friend, but take the couple steps backward to retrieve your shoes and coat and lock your door as you head off to ruin the diet you hadn’t started.

A short drive later, you find yourself standing at Dairy Queen’s counter debating over a cookie dough or oreo blizzard. “I’ll have a small cookie dough blizzard, please”, you finally decide.

Brock also orders and the cashier asks, “Are you guys together?”

“Yeah, we’re together” he answers and then looking over at you his eyes widen in alarm. “I mean no, we’re not together, well we’re together but not together together”, he stutters over his words.

You’re looking at him like he’s lost his mind, but you’re also laughing, “B, chill. She meant our orders.” and then looking at the annoyed cashier, “yes, to clarify, our orders are together”. Brock mumbles an apology, handing over some bills.

“Well that was fun”, Brock huffs as he brings over your tray. When he sets down a chicken tender basket in front of you, your heart swells.

“What’s this?”

He just shrugs. “Figured you might want your kids’ meal. That salad didn’t look very filling”.

You swear you could cry on the spot at how thoughtful he was. “You noticed that too huh?”

“I notice everything, Y/N”, he says, taking another bite of his blizzard.

“So how is this fair? My boyfriend is an ass to you and me both, yet you’re the one buying me ice cream. Shouldn’t I be buying this for you?”

“How is he an ass to me?” Brock asks you. You’re not wrong, but he’s surprised you’ve noticed.

You give him a sheepish look. “A couple of the boys told me about what Roman said at the bar after last week’s game.”

Brock knew what you were referring to even though you were being very vague with your words.

They had gotten shut out and everyone all around had just had an off night. They had gone to the bar to blow off some steam but Roman was still heated, he took a while to calm down. You were off playing pool with Brock and it irritated Roman to no end as he watched you laugh easily with the wannabe lover. Soon your game finished though and you headed to the restroom before rejoining your boyfriend and the group and Roman took advantage of his opportunity. He was jealous and angry and just feeling a little mean so he took a swing at Brock.

“Hey, Caufield, maybe you should spend less time at the pool table and more time on the ice. We would’ve won tonight if you would’ve hit any of the shots you took. You were like 0 for 20.”

Brock looked at him wondering where this was all coming from right now. “Yeah, it wasn’t my best night”, he admitted.

Roman snorts. “Even your best night wouldn’t be good enough. You should stop trying to be your brother, you’ll never be as good as him. The only reason you’re even on the team is because they wanted Cole here, so they tried to sweeten the deal by letting you play” he says pointing at Cole with his beer and then taking a swig.

The comment brings an onslaught of “Hey, hey, hey”, “I think you’ve had enough”, “That was unnecessary” and “You better fucking take that back” from all the guys at the table. Everyone knew Roman could be a real dick when he wanted to be, but that comment was taking it too far. Just then you returned to the table, seeing everyone’s faces you asked “Whoa, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing. As fun as this has been, I think I’m gonna head home” he said looking at Roman. You pouted, but you didn’t question it as you hugged him goodbye and told him to text you when he got home so you knew he was safe.

“By a couple of the guys, I'm sure you’re referring to my brother?” he chuckles.

“I didn’t say that”, you tell him, but the small smile you’re wearing tells all.

“Yeah, he was pretty fired up over that”, Brock says.

“As he should’ve been! Why didn’t you say anything that night? I was fucking pissed when I found out. That was completely uncalled for. I let him have it when I found out. We’ve barely spoken all week because I’m still mad at him. Probably why he was such a dick tonight” you say, ripping off another piece of a chicken tender.

Brock just shrugs. “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything that night. It’s not like it’s not true, nothing I haven’t heard before. I know I’ll never be as good as Cole.”

You frown at the boy sitting across from you and take his hand in yours. “You know none of what Roman said is true, right? Not one word. You’re playing hockey for a D1 school and not just any school, the college hockey capital, Brock. You have so much talent and skill, I promise you’re on the team because they need a reliable, dependable, versatile player like you. You’re such a valuable part of the team, B.”

He would probably cry if you weren’t in the middle of Dairy Queen. You said the words with such conviction and love that he believed every one. To think that you saw all of that in him meant the absolute world to him.

“Thank you, Y/N. I can’t tell you how much that means to me”, he tells you honestly.

You beam at him. “Of course, B.”

He smiles back at you. “And to answer your question, no offense, but I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to buy me ice cream when Roman screws up again. It can be like our thing”.

---

You were at your breaking point as you pulled up Brock’s contact. There was a good chance he was already sleeping and wouldn’t answer, but you had no other options so you pressed call. He answered on the first ring.

“B, I really need you. Can you come get me please?”

Brock shot up in bed at the sound of your shaky voice. “Y/N? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I- yeah, I’m fine. I’m just stranded. Roman and I got into this huge fight and he left and won’t answer my calls or texts. I’m sorry to bother you, I know you left hours ago, but Roman has my credit card and cash so I can’t even get an Uber… I could walk, but it’s kind of far”

“No” he just about yells into the phone. “Don’t you dare leave wherever you are by yourself. I’m coming. I’m leaving right now, just send me your location and stay on the phone with me so I know you’re ok, okay?”.

You do and he curses to himself. He couldn’t believe Roman left you stranded and drunk at a party in the middle of Madison. That was low, even for Roman.

“B, why do you sound so out of breath? Are you running?” you ask. You can hear his breathing through the phone and it sounds slightly labored.

“Are you calling me out of shape?” he jokes, “Yeah, I had a few beers tonight so I don’t want to take the chance of driving. We can walk home together. But I want to get to you as soon as I can so I’m jogging. I’m about a block away now, should see you in five or so minutes”.

You blink away your surprise, your hand clutching at your heart. You look up to the sky and thank whoever it was above for blessing you with Brock.

“How did I get so lucky to have a best friend like you?”

You don’t see him trip as you say “best friend”. It must’ve been a crack in the sidewalk, just like the one in his heart.

You knew going in that dating a basically famous college hockey player wasn’t going to be easy. You knew what you signed up for. Admittedly, most of the time Roman would make you forget about the outside world. He acted like any other boyfriend, spoiling you with love and affection. But there were times that the ugly side of what he does came to bite you and unfortunately he was the one to bring it up.

It was a Saturday night and the boys were having a party to celebrate the weekend’s sweep. Your night had been great until you had heard Roman’s comments. You were standing with a small group of girls gossiping about the one girl’s interest in Mike when you heard your boyfriend’s voice brag about the “hundreds of girls flooding his Dm’s after that game against Ohio State”.

“No way you have hundreds, there was barely anyone there at those games last weekend”. Tarek pointed out, trying to call his bluff.

“Okay, maybe not hundreds, but there’s a ton. I could literally have any girl I wanted. And they’re all like, really hot too.” He glanced to his left and saw you standing there, but you were turned, not paying him any attention so he continued, “Check out the rack on this one, pretty face to match too”.

Your heart sunk as you listened to the boys talk, one boy in particular really. You turned around just to make sure it was your boyfriend even though you’d know his voice anywhere. He was standing with a group of the guys, his profile to you, but he was only a handful of steps away. Close enough for you to see him holding out his phone to prove to Tarek that he had a bunch of Dm’s. You watched on as his thumb scrolled down the list until he found the girl he wanted to show off. You suddenly didn’t feel like being at the party anymore.

Brock was standing with Lex, Cole, Ryder, and Dylan when he first heard bits of the conversation going on in the group next to him. His temper flared as he realized it was Roman who was doing the bragging. If Roman even glanced to his left in the slightest, he would’ve seen you standing there, well within earshot. And then he watched as Roman did just that, looked right at you and still continued to show off. Brock too looked over at you, hoping by some miracle that you weren't hearing what was going on. But when his eyes fell on you, you were already staring at Roman and there was a pained expression on your features. His heart broke for you and he wished for the millionth time that he could show you what love really is. But he couldn’t so he settled for at least getting you out of that situation. He didn’t even bother saying anything to the boys as he removed himself from the group and walked over to you, placing himself right in between you and Roman.

“Can I steal you for a few? I could really use a kick ass pong partner” he asked, smirking at you. He knew you loved pong, it was one of the few drinking games you were actually good at.

You took one last look over the shoulder of Brock and saw your boyfriend pulling up yet another girl’s profile so you gave Brock a weak smile and followed him across the room to the pong table, far away from Roman.

It only took a few throws for your arms to be held over your head and your chirping to take over. You and Brock pretty much dominated, to the point that it would’ve been boring had you guys not been keeping each other entertained.

With one cup left, Brock looked at you, a confident smirk on his lips. “Are you ready for this trick shot, Y/N? I’ve been practicing.”

You grinned and nodded eagerly. “Show me what you’ve got, Caufield.”

Instead of overhand tossing the pong ball, he flicks his wrist underhand so that the ball bounces off the ceiling and arcs directly into the remaining cup.

His arms raise wide above his head and he backs up in a subtle celly. The smile on his face can only be described as cocky.

Your jaw is still on the floor, but you're screeching and launching yourself into his arms. He easily catches you, lifting you off of your feet and spinning you around.

The room is loud, still reacting to Brock’s trick shot, but you don’t hear any of it as he holds you close, still having not put you back on your feet. The smile on your face is bright when you tell him, “I can’t believe you just did that! I hope you know you just sealed your fate as my pong partner for life”.

---

“While I appreciate you doing all of that, and I really do, I couldn't have done it without you, I didn’t ask you to do any of that. Never did I ask you to come save me” you snapped at him, trying to defend yourself. And it was true, you had never once asked for Brock to come save you, he just did.

Hands running through his hair, tugging hard, that’s when Brock explodes. You were practically proving his point. “That’s the thing, Y/N, is you shouldn’t have to ask! It should just be normal for someone who cares about you to not hurt you over and over and to be there for you and help you get better when you’re hurting, not just turn their back on you with some other girl and then just show back up in your life when they decide they want you back. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.” He’s looking at you desperately, you were putting him in jail for something he didn’t even do.

You know he’s right. You know it with every bone in your body. Roman had done things that were far from loving and had conditioned you to think that that’s what love looked like. You had made exceptions for his behavior and built a tolerance for his actions. And that’s not how it was supposed to be. But you had also loved him and part of you still did and that was hard to just turn off and forget, you would know because you had tried.

“Brock, I loved him. You know that. What was I supposed to do? Things weren’t perfect, but I couldn’t just throw away what we had and pretend that I didn’t feel anything for him. I accepted him and his flaws because that's what love is.”

He hears every word of what you’re saying because he feels it too. He was living a parallel life, but with you. As much as he’s tried and wishes he could, he can’t just turn off his feelings for you and pretend they weren’t there. He accepted your flaws even if giving too much of yourself to others who didn’t deserve you was one of them. He wants to tell you that he could have shown you what loving hard instead of hard love is but he knows the time isn’t right for that confession yet. There’s still a lot left to be said.

“Well he threw it away for you and now you’re what? Just going to let him walk right back in again? You’re going to let him back in like usual? It’s not hard to see why he doesn’t take you seriously, if you don’t even take yourself seriously. You need to at least respect yourself, since he never does. You’re better than that, Y/N. We worked so hard-“ he corrects himself, “you worked so hard to be strong and build yourself back up...I’m just afraid he’ll break you again”.

His concern was well placed but the fact that he just assumes that you’d let Roman walk back in, even though you almost did and that he thought you’d break so easily was disappointing. “Well what am I supposed to do Brock? I’m not some D1 big time hockey player like you, I don’t just have this line waiting at my door to take me out like you guys do”

Brock’s voice catches in his throat as he almost lets out the secret he’s been keeping bottled up from you. But he panics and instead tells you, “you need to figure this out, Y/N because I can’t stand by and watch that happen again. And if you do decide that he’s the one you want and you’re willing to let him into your life again, I can’t promise to be there to put back the pieces this time.”

His statement makes your eyebrows shoot up.You don’t know that you’d still be here had Brock not been there for you, and as he pointed out not just this past time but so many times before. You can’t imagine having to go through another heartbreak, much less without having Brock at your side. Your heart’s racing at the thought of losing him. His statement surprises you and hits you like a ton of bricks. Why’d you have to break what you love so much?

“You’d leave me?” You quietly ask him, tears threatening to spill.

He sighs, shaking his head. Why was this so hard? “I’d never leave you,” he says swallowing hard, “but I can’t hurt like that again”.

The look on his face shatters your heart and you know you’re the one to blame.

You don’t miss that he’s talking about himself and you hate that you’ve caused him so much hurt over the years. You’d put him through more than one ever should and you’re hating yourself because this is the first time he’s admitting to you that it hurts him. Hurts him to see you with someone else, hurts him to always be the one to pick up the pieces, and hurts him that you might pick that someone over him again. You knew his feelings for you, you had for a while now. Cole had pulled you aside and told you as much and as if that wasn’t confirmation enough, you had accidentally overheard Brock say it himself, just not to you.

Brock had invited you over for a movie night, something you had done regularly with him in the months before you had started dating Roman. But ever since you started seeing Ro they had become less and less frequent until it got to the point where they ceased to exist all together. So he had finally reserved you for the night and had a whole night planned for you two to catch up. Or so he thought.

He was rushing around his dorm, trying to find his wallet and keys to go pick you up. He needed to hurry so that you guys weren’t late for your reservation. A new steak place had opened up downtown and though it was a little more fancy than your usual pizza dates, he knew you had been wanting to try it so he made the reservation.

“B if you’re five minutes late they’re not going to give your table away” Cole tells his brother, sensing his nerves.

“Yeah but if I’m five minutes late picking Y/N up, then we’re going to be 15 minutes late to the restaurant and then the table will be gone” he replies.

Cole shakes his head at how well Brock knows you. The boy had it bad. “Yeahhh you’re right. You better get a move on then.”

Brock huffs in response as he trips putting his other shoe on.

“Oh and good luck on your date” Cole calls as Brock heads out the door, lightly teasing him. Brock smiles but flips his little brother off as he shuts the door.

Not 20 minutes later, a very disappointed and frustrated Brock is slinking his way back through the door. Cole pauses the game he had been watching on the tv and turns toward Brock as he throws himself on the couch.

“She cancelled.” Brock mumbles into the cushion.

“What?!” Cole questions. He shouldn’t be surprised, he could probably guess as to the reason you cancelled but he couldn’t believe you’d do that to Brock and so last minute.

“S’fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” He said, face still pressed into the couch.

“It’s not fine, Brock! I get that you’re like in love with her but she doesn’t just get a pass. That was really shitty. Did she say why she cancelled?” He was fired up now, as Brock should’ve been but he would let you get away with murder.

He sighed as he pushed himself to a seated position and shrugged. “Said Roman had some kind of thing planned that he just told her about and she meant to text me about it but forgot. She felt bad”.

And just like that you were let off the hook, Cole could tell by the simple way he justified your actions by saying you felt bad. It didn’t erase the hurt that was in his face even if he tried to make his voice sound casual or the droop in his shoulders. It seems to be a more and more common thing lately and he doesn’t like it.

Turning the tv off he stands up. “Well let’s not let that dinner reservation go to waste. Steak sounds pretty good and you’re buying! ” he says and kicks Brock’s shoe to get him off the couch and back out the door.

As it turns out, Cole was right and they won’t give the table away if you're five minutes late. The steak was actually worth the reservation and it was nice to spend some one on one time with his brother. He knew nights like that wouldn’t last much longer. Brock seemed to be in less of a slump but Cole continued his care taking, telling Abby he’d call her tomorrow and catch her up on the Brock/Y/N saga to watch movies with his brother.

His phone rings in the middle of Grown Ups and Cole doesn’t even have to guess to know who it is. “You should just leave her hanging after she ditched you tonight” he says.

Brock shoots him a look and picks up on the second ring. “Y/N? Is everything ok?”

With the movie paused, Cole can hear the whole conversation, though he could’ve told Brock without having heard. It was the same old story. Roman promised one thing and then did another, leaving you upset and Brock comforting you. Of course he invited you over and offered to come and get you, already putting his shoes back on before even hanging up the phone.

“You deserve better than second best, Brock” he honestly tells his brother.

Brock looks at him then with a look of defeat and acceptance. “I’ll take what I can get.”

A short time later he returns with you in tow. You look sad, just as Brock had hours earlier when he walked through that same door, but without you. You give a tight lipped smile to Cole and then you’re following Brock to his bedroom where you’ll spend the night telling Brock about your boyfriend while wrapped in Brock’s arms and in Brock’s bed.

It breaks his heart that you’re crying again over him..Brock would never make you cry until your wedding day when he shed tears of his own and you wouldn’t be able to hold yours in because you always cry when other people do.

The next morning is when Cole decides to give you a reality check. You emerge from Brock’s bedroom in his T-shirt and Cole just raises an eyebrow at you. From an outsider’s point of view, you knew what it looked like. But it was Cole and this was unfortunately a rather regular occurrence. Nothing had happened, nothing would happen. “What?” You ask him as you reach into the cabinet and grab a mug. Their home was basically yours too, you spent so much time there.

“We’re gonna go grab something to eat before he drops me off, do you want to come with us?” You ask. Your offer however, is met with silence even though Cole is staring right at you.

“Dude what’s your problem today? Are you not speaking to me or what?” You question, growing irritated.

Cole thought the world of you, honestly. You had become a close friend but his brother was his favorite person and you were messing with his happiness so it was about time you were put in check.

“You know, one day he won’t be waiting around for you anymore. He’ll have his own girlfriend again and he won’t be able to play part time boyfriend when yours decides to be an asshole”.

He doesn’t specify who “he” is but you know he’s talking about Brock. And he doesn’t come out and say that Brock has feelings for you but “waiting around” sure makes it seem like maybe he does. You want him to just say it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you say, looking down at the mug in your hands. Brock’s favorite you think to yourself.

Cole gives you a look and holds his hand out in front of him, gesturing up and down your body. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t give me that. Look at yourself right now. Where are you right now? Where do you spend your time, enough to know where the mugs are? Whose clothes are you wearing? Whose bed did you sleep in? Who was beside you? Who -“

“Okay, okay. Jeez, I get your point” you say, wincing, wanting to stop him there.

“Do you though? Because you let him get all the way to your place before you cancelled on him last night. You didn’t see the look that was on his face when he came back home. He’d been looking forward to this all week, Y/N. He’s been planning this all week. He never gets to see you anymore” Cole continues.

You grimace, knowing you did him dirty. “All week? I felt so bad -“

Cole cuts you off, not wanting to hear the excuse he’s heard a hundred times before “but Roman” is how it always starts.

“Yes. All week. He even made a reservation for you guys at that new steak place you’ve been wanting to go to. Hell the kid spent a half hour going through his closet and making me choose between shirts” he tells you.

Your heart sinks when you hear about all of his wasted efforts and the thought he had put into wanting to have a night with you.

“And you obviously didn’t feel too bad because you still called him when Roman bailed. You always call him, Y/N. Maybe you should think about the fact that he’s always the one you turn to when you need something, maybe he should just be the one. You can’t keep going back and forth between your two boyfriends though, it’s hurting Brock too much and I won’t let that happen anymore. He’s dealing with enough shit right now, he doesn’t need you hurting him too”.

His words sit heavy in your mind and never leave you. You can’t say how much of an impact they’ve had on your affection toward him since then but it definitely plays a part, maybe one larger than you realized.

—

Brock and Roman had been going at each other all day. Brock had started hanging around less and less so you were excited to be able to spend the whole evening together. The boys were having game night and then hitting the bar. Starting with the pregame Roman had been a pain. He was complaining about the whole night and how he didn’t want to share you. This meant he was extra clingy and barely let you out of sight. You really had wanted to see Brock, but he was in the apartment across the hall, the team having to split into two apartments since everyone was coming out tonight.

You pryed yourself from Roman and wandered to the next room, an easy smile spreading across your face as you found who you were looking for. You were instantly wrapped in a warm hug and he kept an arm over your shoulders as he talked close to your ear, trying to be heard over the shouting of the boys. “I saw you earlier and wanted to come say hi but didn’t want your boyfriend to get mad” he tried to play it off as joking but you could hear the slight bite to his words. He didn’t get to say much else as Roman came in and spotted your two heads bent together in the middle of the room. He made a not so light hearted comment about Brock stealing his girl and then all but dragged you back to the other room claiming you guys were up next for pong even though you still had to wait 15 minutes for the game to be finished.

And that’s how the night went with the two boys exchanging jabs and glares. Roman’s temper is short with you and even shorter for Brock. He’s been making stupid comments to you that he knows get on your nerves like “damn those jeans make your ass look good. Brock doesn’t her ass look good?” And “your shirt’s so low cut every guy in this bar has been staring at your tits, just ask Caufield.” and each time Brock also sends a look your way, one you read as pity and you become frustrated. There was a difference between him complimenting you and him making you feel like a piece of meat and tonight he was doing the latter. He was also dragging Brock into it which he knew you hated and so you became increasingly angry, more with yourself and Roman but after about the tenth time Brock looks over at you you take it out on him and just snap. “I don’t need the looks, ok Brock? I can take care of myself, you looking at me every time he opens his mouth isn’t making anything better”. You can’t quite read the look on his face before he just nods and says he’s going to head out for the night. You groan and guilt and more frustration flood your system. You know you have to go after him because it’s Brock after all. So after corralling a stupidly drunk Roman into his bed you head over to Brock’s to apologize.

The first thing you hear when you go to knock on his door is yelling. You don’t expect to hear anything given the time of night but with the quiet halls you can hear every word he’s shouting. “I just don’t get why she lets him treat her like that! She’s so strong and independent and then she just sits there while he spouts off his mouth the whole night. And she’s so beautiful like how can he even say the things he said tonight.”

He’s obviously talking about you, that much you can tell. You can’t hear what the other person is saying but you do hear what Brock is saying next. “ I just need her to give me one shot. That’s all I’m asking for is one shot to show her how much better I can be for her. Be to her. If I could just show her how much I love her and appreciate her the way she deserves… god why am I not good enough? I do everything I can for her, hell I’d do more if she let me. Do I have to act like an ass to get her attention? Because I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing I haven’t done yet”

You feel extremely guilty standing there in front of his door listening to something he doesn’t know you’re hearing, him pouring his heart out. But you’re frozen in place with his confession. You eventually get your act together and do what you went there to do in the first place, the whole time with your heart beating in your ears.

—

You had never let on that you knew how he felt. You had honestly thought that maybe his feelings for you would lessen until they disappeared since you had at the time still been very much in love with Roman. You hate to say it but you were often times wrapped up in your own drama that you pushed his feelings to the back of your mind but they were always there. With everything that he had told you that night, unknowingly and everything he was saying now, you could see it all in a new light.

Right now, with his cheeks flushed and his chest still heaving from anger and emotion it’s clear that those feelings are still very much present. He’s so worked up that you have to put a hand on his chest, something you often did with Roman, to calm him. Though unlike Roman, B instantly softens as soon as you touch him, practically melting under your hand.

“B, stop. It’s ok, I’m not getting back together with him. We talked and he apologized. It was nice closure, but that’s all it was for me, was closure. I can’t forget what he did. What you did to help me. You’re right, we did build me up and he’s not worth losing myself or you over. I don’t want to do this to you anymore, I don’t want to lose you” You can literally feel his heart skip a beat as you drop this information on him.

His mouth tries to form words but all he comes up with is “oh”. He’s surprised to say the least. “So what now? Is he going to go back to being an asshole to me about you?”

You frown. “Not if I have anything to say about it. I really am sorry you had so much to deal with because of me. So much stuff that I had no idea about. You did it so well, you’ve been so understanding, so good. If it were anybody else, they wouldn’t have lasted a day dealing with me and all of my baggage. But you, you’ve been the answer to all of my prayers”.

His heart catches at your words. Finally, finally he was getting some recognition for all the hell he had been through for you. He gives you a soft smile and a little shrug. “Wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’m glad you didn’t have to deal with it, honestly. Now that I don’t have to worry about you not listening to me about him it makes it all that much more worth it. You’re worth it”.

You roll your eyes but there’s a smile on your face as you say, “and I love you for that” and you don’t know what that little line does to him.

He has to look away when you say that even though he knows you can see the blush quickly taking over his cheeks and feel his heart hammer a little faster over it. It gives him a little courage to try and see if maybe he can get you to say those words to him again, but in the way that he’s been wanting all of these years.

“You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?” He mumbles, running a hand over his face.

“What’s that supposed to me, Caufield?” You ask, tilting your head up so that your eyes can search his face.

A look of wonder is on his face as he says “You have no idea do you?”

Now it’s your turn for your heart to speed up as you do have an idea of what he might be about to tell you.

You don’t get the chance to hear what he has to say because you hear yelling from the hall and the voice that it belongs to is Owen. Both of your heads turn as he crashes through your door, breathless.

“Y/N have you seen Brock, I think we have a problem - oh shit, am I interrupting something?”

#Roman Ahcan #Brock Caufield #Cole Caufield #Owen Lindmark #Alex Turcotte #Ryder Donovan

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imjusthereforbatfam · 3 years

Text

Never-Ending Encore, ch.5

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter Summary: Okay, listen. Listen. Eden may have agreed to this, but are we absolutely, positively sure she needs stitches? Yes? Er… Okay. But are we, like, SURE sure or...?

Warning: swearing, blood, describing injuries, mending injuries (on a wuss)

Also!!! Apparently, you’re not supposed to use rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide on cuts cuz their chemicals are too harsh and can damage muscle tissue. I grew up using peroxide on my cuts and didn’t know you weren’t supposed to until after I’d already written the majority of this chapter, so like… don’t do this irl. I’m just lazy and using alcohol works really well for the story so blah

—

Chapter 5:

Eden leaned her head back on the low wall behind her and stared up at the clouded sky. She huffed for what felt like the hundredth time. At this rate, she was going to be completely healed before Red Hood even got back...

She took another peek at her sliced palm. The cut was about a third smaller than it had been. Would Red Hood notice? Probably. It was hard to miss.

Should she— she shuddered. Should she try to reopen it a little with her nails?

She moved her hand away, gagging at the thought.

Nope. No way. Forget that. If it was noticeable to Red Hood, she would just play it off somehow. Distract him or something. Play dumb. Cry. Whatever it took but she was not going to reopen it. It shouldn’t heal much more before he got back, anyway. He promised it would only take a few minutes for him to get what he needed and get back. And, despite feeling like she’d been sitting on this rooftop for hours, Eden knew that wasn’t true. She was just getting antsy.

She put a hand to her neck, gently moving a finger across the gash there. It was fairly long, running from the dip between her shoulder and neck down to the crook of her collar bone. The knife nicked her jugular on the way down, too. That was how she’d become so lightheaded so quickly. Even now, her shirt was still wet with all the blood she’d lost.

She was lucky her body healed the way it did. The process was by no means instant, and sometimes it was too little too late, but more often than not it was just enough to save her from unnecessary encores.

Actually, still running her finger along the jagged cut, Eden was a bit surprised. Usually, an injury like this would be far more healed by now. Yet, somehow, the cut on her neck didn’t feel any smaller than the first time she’d touched it. True, it wasn't as deep as it had been – Eden could just… tell it wasn't – but on the surface, it was mostly the same.

Was it her? Had she gained some control over this part of her power without realizing it? Maybe. Or maybe she'd just lost so much blood that replenishing it was more important than mending the rest of her body. Or maybe her body magically knew that healing too fast wasn’t a good idea this time. Or, maybe, it was just mending itself like this, like a snail trudging across a bone-dry desert, because she hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime.

Her stomach growled on cue, confirming her suspicions. Eden groaned. Now that she wasn’t drowning in her own thoughts or missing a remarkable amount of blood, she was fully aware of her body’s needs. And, boy, did it need food.

“Would you—”

Eden shrieked in surprise as Red Hood announced his return by swiping her hand away from her neck.

“—stop messing with that?”

“What in the—!? Where in the heck did you come from!?”

“Hell, obviously.” He knelt down in front of her, taking a small black bag off his shoulder. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Oh, of course,” she said rolling her eyes. “I thought I recognized the accent.” She smacked her forehead theatrically.

Red Hood let out a small, amused sound as he unzipped the bag. Inside was a swath of medical supplies. He dug around a moment then pulled out a white cloth and bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Eden eyed the bottle as he unscrewed the cap. “I hear the weather’s lovely in Hell this time of year,” she continued, hiding behind the joke. “Good time for a visit.”

“Nah," he said playing along. "It’s hot as balls right now."

She chuckled. “Ain't it—” Red Hood turned to her urgently and Eden quieted.

He said nothing.

“Um…" She shrank down a little, unnerved by his wordless stare. "Everything okay there, Mr. Hood?”

He studied her another moment then eased back. “Yeah. Sorry. You started laughing so I thought you might…” he drifted off, looking at her neck. He shook his head and went back to prepping the cloth. “How do you feel?”

She shrugged. “Fine. Better than I was.”

“No more gagging fits?” He glanced over at her and Eden shook her head. “Good.”

She eyed the drenched cloth in his hand, thinking back to all the times she'd put alcohol on someone else’s cuts and scrapes. She’d never had to use it herself, not even when she was a kid, so she didn’t know what it felt like. All she knew was that other people often hissed or groaned when they used it. Even Nate, arguably the toughest of her semi-siblings, would wince if alcohol went on an open wound.

“Is that going on my neck?”

“Yep.” Red Hood brought it closer.

Eden leaned away. “Is it going to hurt?”

“I mean.” He gave a half-shrug, half-nod like it was obvious. “Yeah?”

“Okay, but like…” She slunk down against the wall, growing quieter. “How bad is it gonna hurt? Like… bad or… really bad?”

Red Hood tilted his head in thought. “How’s your pain tolerance?”

"My...? Oh. Well, it's... um..."

No matter how she got hurt, Eden was always fine in the end. But in the moment? When it was actually happening to her? Or, if it was a trade, when it felt like it was happening to her?

“Not great,” she decided. But, then again, who didn’t experience excruciating pain while dying? “It’s hard to say. It might be normal but… I’m not really sure. I certainly don't like pain, if that helps.”

“Alright, better question: have you ever used alcohol to clean a cut before?"

“No,” she murmured sinking into her shoulders. “Never.”

Red Hood turned his head upward and let out a deep noise, something between a hum and a sigh. He glanced toward the little black medical bag, then down at himself, then around them. Searching for something, perhaps.

“Look—” Eden straightened herself up, drawing his attention. “Look, why don’t you… Why don’t you just do it, okay? You being all,” she made a gesture, “this is freaking me out more. Just throw it on there and if it hurts, then—”

“When it hurts. I’m not just slapping it down," he told her. "I have to actually clean the cut.”

“Oh, okay!” she said in a much higher pitch. “Great! Wonderful! Then when it hurts, I’ll just— I’ll— I’ll kick you or something! And it’ll be fine!”

Red Hood cocked his head. “After all I’ve done for you, you’re going to repay me by kicking me?”

Eden blinked at him. “What? Oh! No, no! I didn’t mean— I wasn’t really going to kick you! Of course not! I wouldn’t actually— Okay, I mean, maybe in like a knee-jerk kind of way, but not on purpose or anything! And even if I did do it on purpose, I’d probably hurt myself more than I’d hurt you, Mr. Hood – I think we both know that – ‘cause it would just, you know, be like a, uh, little baby kicking you or something. More sad than anything, really; just downright pathetic, and, honestly, you'd probably feel bad for me and have to pretend it hurt 'cause I'd just be holding my foot and crying, and—”

Red Hood snickered loudly, cutting off her senseless jabbering. He turned his head and covered the place where his mouth would be but his shoulders kept shaking.

Eden’s whole face went up in flames. He'd been joking. And now he was laughing at her. Again.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she grumbled turning away from him. She pushed her hair out of the way and offered up her neck. “Will you please just get this over with before I make a bigger fool of myself?”

“Hold on.” Still fighting back laughter, he reached for the bottle again. “I need to add some more.”

“More!?”

"Yeeaah," he said shaking his head oh-so-solemnly. "It dried out while you were talking."

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure." She turned and pinned her eyes on the skyscrapers in the distance. "Go on and tease the panicking person, Mr. Hood. Very kind of you. Very classy.”

"What can I say? I'm such a kind, classy guy."

A laugh nearly tumbled out of her but Eden quickly fought it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. The sound of fresh alcohol spilling onto the cement wiped her suppressed smile clean away.

“Oh god.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“You’re gonna be fine, Cookie Girl.”

“I am not gonna be fine!” she threw back. “This is awful! This is horrendous! This is— This is torturous!”

He scoffed, close to her neck now. “Don’t be such a baby. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“I know! That’s what’s so awful!”

“Do you want to hold my hand or something?”

Eden knew he was mocking her. She did. She just didn’t care. Her good hand clutched at the fabric of his leather jacket. The other wrapped around the exposed skin between his glove and tight, armor-like sleeve. Her mending palm warmed quickly against his skin.

He cleared his throat. “I was joking.”

“Well, that's too damn bad, Mr. Hood! Don’t go making offers you don’t wanna bank on! Now, would you puh-LEASE just get this over with!? I’m seriously starting to freak out here, and I really don’t appreciate the whole ‘Let’s draw this out as long as possible ‘cause it’s funny’ shtick, ‘cause it’s not funny, and I for one really don't appreciate—”

“Okay, okay! I’m doing it, I’m doing it. Sheesh.” He moved forward and ran the cloth over her torn skin in one quick motion. Eden shrieked and clutched his arm.

The burn was intense— sudden— unlike anything she’d felt before. Her eyes misted as she forced herself to breathe through clenched teeth.

Every so often, Red Hood gave her small words of assurance – that she was doing fine, that he was almost done – but Eden could only focus on the pain. Liquid fire bubbled and seared its way deep into the wound. She dragged the soles of her shoes against the cement, desperate for relief. Eventually, she tore her good hand away from Red Hood’s jacket and pounded her fist against the floor. She grabbed his sleeve again and held it tightly, trying not to cry.

When he finally finished, Red Hood carefully removed her good hand from his sleeve and put it on top of the cloth. “Keep this here, alright?”

“I don’t like this,” she sniffed, her voice wavering. “Why do we have to do this. I hate this. This is stupid.”

“You’re doing fine, Cookie Girl,” he said softly.

She half-huffed, half-whined in disagreement.

Red Hood turned back to his little black bag and dug around with his free hand. He made no indication of needing his other hand, so Eden didn’t let go. Every time the frothing, stinging burn flared up again she dragged her heel across the floor and gave his arm another tight squeeze. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it.

“So.” He pulled a small pouch from the bag. “What kind of trouble are you in, anyway?”

The furrow in her brow deepened. “What do you mean? I’m not in any trouble…”

“Right.” From the pouch, Red Hood took out a curved needle, some thick tweezers, and what looked like a spool of blue fishing line. “Because only someone not in any trouble would beg someone like me to patch them up instead of going to a hospital.”

“Hey now!" She let go of him and pointed to herself. "I didn't beg for nothin'. I just refused to go to the hospital. You're," she jabbed her finger at him, “the one who’s insisting on doing this nonsense.”

He scoffed and swiped her hand away as he threaded the needle. “Would you rather I didn’t do this nonsense?”

“It feels like the devil himself is pissing on my shoulder right now, so... yeah, to be completely honest, I’m kinda wishing you didn't.”

Red Hood stopped. Stiffly, he turned his head toward her. Eden shrunk back from the sudden, severe emotion coming from him. The heat of his hidden gaze, amplified by the glaring eyes of his helmet, was hard to meet.

“I’m sorry,” he said harshly, “did you want an infection in your fucking neck?”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then what about having a huge scar for the rest of your life?”

Knots formed in her stomach. “I’m not worried about scars,” she mumbled stubbornly.

“No? Then how about that cut reopening?” he shot back. “How about bleeding out a second fucking time when there's no one around? How about fucking dying? Are you worried about that?” he hissed. His distorted voice was sharper and more searing than Eden had ever heard it.

She sank further down the wall. It wasn't hard to understand why Red Hood was so worked up about this. She glanced down at the slick, sticky river of blood that had flooded her shirt and pooled down her torso. She'd lost so much so quickly... If she were a normal human being and the cut did reopen, there wouldn't be enough blood left in her body to survive it. She would bleed out and die just like Red Hood said.

But Eden wasn't normal. The cut wouldn't reopen. And even if it somehow did, it wouldn't kill her. Her body had already made up for most of the blood she'd lost — she could feel it. And even if it hadn't, even if the damn thing did kill her, it's not like she would stay dead anyway. The universe would demand another encore from her, just like it always did, and her heart would start again. Just like it always did.

Eden eyed the needle in Red Hood's hand apprehensively. He was going to put that into her skin. Into her cut. He was going to sew her up like an old ragdoll and she didn't even need it!

What would it feel like? Would it be small but sharp like getting pricked by a sewing needle? Strange and agonizing, as if she were being carved up by a tiny knife? Quick and exasperating, like getting her ears pierced again before they finally understood why the holes kept closing up? Or, would it feel like something she’d never experienced before — like the molten, frothy sting of alcohol on an open wound?

And, even worse, the stitches would eventually have to come out. Her body would be perfectly healed within a day or two – at most – and would leave no scar. There'd be nothing to suggest she’d ever even needed stitches in the first place. Even if she could find a way into a hospital without alarming her mother, how would she be able to explain that? She wouldn't. She'd have to remove them herself.

She could just... tell Red Hood her secret, of course. Avoid the whole kerfuffle that way but... But that was stupid. Yeah, he was trying to help her now, and, yeah, he’d save her before, but being a metahuman wasn’t something you just… told people about. Not even heroes. Eden wasn’t that stupid.

In fact, the only people she’d ever told were the “cousins” she considered siblings. And even then, unless they actively needed her powers, she only told them after years of knowing and trusting them. It was her greatest secret, and, as far as she was concerned, only family needed to know it.

Well. Family and whoever the hell Frank told, apparently.

Eden was still upset about that. People – people she didn’t know; people her mother didn’t know; total strangers – knew about her powers now. Frank had told the people he worked with about her without her knowledge or consent. He swore they were trustworthy, that they were merely interested in the science and what it could do, but that didn’t mean much to Eden. After all, he wasn’t even family. Not anymore.

She'd thought he wanted to be. Despite all the years of silence, of absence, she’d hoped he wanted to be when he suddenly reached out and asked to see her again. But when they finally did meet up, after all the backflips and hoop-jumping they’d gone through to keep Mama from catching wind, he’d treated her more like a business venture than a daughter.

That stung more than alcohol ever could.

“Well?”

Eden glanced up at Red Hood. Waiting, with needle in hand. Likely angry, or at the very least upset, with what he must’ve thought was a very stupid, very weak, very ungrateful little girl. He certainly wouldn't be the first.

She looked away again and let out a slow breath. Carefully, she removed the cloth from her neck, hissing softly as she did. She wordlessly offered up the wound a second time. He shifted closer, putting a hand near the cut. Eden flinched and he stopped again.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, softly, sure he was getting more irritated by the minute. “I’m sorry, I just…” She shook her head, fighting the shameful urge to cry. “I’m just," she choked. "I'm just no good at this stuff."

Red Hood said nothing. Eden wondered if silence was how he showed his disappointment.

After a moment, his free hand moved from her neck. He held it in front of her, his palm up. She stared at it, unsure of what it meant.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” he said gently. Eden's eyes lifted in surprise. “It does when the needle goes in," he continued, still soft, "but it’s more weird than painful, I swear. If you need to, you can still…" Red Hood looked to the side and started mumbling. "Y'know.” He bobbed his hand. “Hold my hand or whatever...”

A rebel tear ran down her cheek. Eden sniffed and quickly brushed it away.

This... This was Gotham’s most-contested vigilante. The mob boss. The murderer. The one everyone and their mother had an opinion on. The one they said could never, should never, be considered a hero. This guy. The one who insisted on helping a stubborn, panicky, annoying civilian all night. The one who got downright pissed when she tried to brush off life-saving care. The one who did not rebuke her for being so pathetic, so weak, but instead shyly offered her comfort.

She couldn't wrap her head around it. People called Red Hood bad, immoral, unforgivable, but how? How could anyone think of him like that? Even if he'd done awful things... Even if he still did awful things... Red Hood clearly wasn't an awful person. He was thoughtful. He was kind. He was good.

Had any of the people who said those nasty things actually met him? Did they know how tender he could be? How sweet? Maybe they hadn’t and his rough reputation simply preceded him. Or maybe Eden was a fool who couldn't see the true cruelty hidden beneath a masterful facade. Or... maybe she was one of the lucky ones who got to see past the facade, who got to see the heart hidden underneath.

Eden gingerly took his hand, so, so grateful. “Thank you, Mr. Hood,” she whispered, hoping the words would be enough to convey at least a small fraction of what she was feeling.

He grumbled something back — his voice garbled more than usual.

Eden smiled and giggled softly, feeling outstandingly lucky.

“You ready now?” he muttered.

She nodded. "Ready."

He moved forward again, slowly this time — giving her enough time to stop him if she needed it. She squeezed his hand in anticipation. He took it as a go-ahead.

There was a sharp prick at the base of her collarbone followed by a strange sliding sensation. Like he’d said, there was a sharp, shooting pain each time the needle went in or out of her skin, but it wasn’t too bad. The real issue was the silk-like thread. The slick feeling of it running in and through her skin, tugging pieces of herself together… It was off-putting. Nauseating, even.

Eden tried not to squirm too much. When the needle pierced too thin a piece of skin, she squeaked and scraped her shoe against the ground as Red Hood muttered an apology. When the tugging made her nearly gag, she zeroed in on the scruff marks along his jacket, breathing slowly as she counted them up.

When none of that helped, she would squeeze his hand, silently begging for strength. He squeezed back, readily giving it whenever she asked.

“There,” he said pulling the needle through one last time. He tugged the thread firmly. “Can I have my hand for a second?”

Eden let go and watched as he tied off the string and cut off the excess.

“So…" she tried. "How do I get them out?”

“They’ll dissolve or fall out in a few weeks’ time. No hospitals necessary.”

She nodded slowly then let out a breath of relief. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Red Hood studied her a moment. He lowered his head slightly and stayed that way, something clearly on his mind.

Then, as if forcing himself, he reached for her cut hand. Eden jerked it close to her chest.

“Are you gonna put stitches in my hand, too? That would hurt worse, wouldn’t it? Since it’s my palm?” She snuck a glance at the cut as she spoke.

The first time she’d looked at it, it ran clear across her palm from end to end. There’d been thin cuts across some of her fingers too. She honestly couldn't remember when it had happened in the fight or how, but she must’ve grabbed for the knife at some point and been holding it by the blade when it was roughly pulled from her grasp.

Now, the cut was much smaller. Only about an inch and a half over the center of her palm. She couldn’t even tell where the smaller slices on her fingers had been. She imagined the skin there still looked a little irritated, but – because it was dark and her hand was still coated with blood – she couldn’t see it.

“I might not have to,” Red Hood said holding his hand out for hers. “The neck was definitely worse, but let me take another look at it.”

Nervously, Eden took one more glance at her palm then handed it over.

Red Hood inspected it a moment then tilted his head. "Huh."

She panicked. “What!?” she shrieked, startling him enough to look away from the cut. “Is it bad? Do I need stitches? Please don’t say I need any more stitches, Mr. Hood, I really don’t think I can handle going through that with my hand. Please say I don’t. Pretty please?”

He glanced down at it again. “You don't.” Very gently, he ran a thumb over the cut. “It’s a lot smaller than I remember…”

“Oh, thank goodness!" she said in a fast voice. She started tugging her hand away. "So we’re all good then, right? No more patching up? You can just take me home now?”

Red Hood let out an amused hum and started packing up his supplies. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No, not at all! But," she brought up a finger, "if you bring that alcohol crap anywhere near me again, I really am going to kick you.”

He scoffed and batted her hand away. Then he paused and dipped his head. “Actually," he teased, reaching for the bottle. "Now that you mention it—”

“No. No, no."

“We really should clean it."

“Nope. No. Don’t you dare.”

“Aw, c'mon, Cookie Girl,” he said waving the bottle. “Just to be safe?"

“Mr. Hood, I will kick you and I will do it hard.”

He laughed, stood up, and offered his hand. "You gonna cry when you do?"

"No! ...Maybe." She took his hand. "Shut up."

—

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Chapter 6

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