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stayconnecteed · 5 months

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❪⠀🪐. cappuccino⠀𓏔⠀lee know⠀❫

☆ customer!lee know x afab!reader ( i wanna be yours oneshots )⠀★⠀8.1k words

( i am extremely sorry for the delay of this one shot ♡ )

synopsys: after a bad run you are forced to look for a second job, and you end up covering the first shift at the campus café. every morning you find the same guy waiting for you to open, leaning on the wall, looking flawless, and it gets on your nerves. until one day you see him leaving the dance academy where you teach, getting on the same bus as you. warnings: in this one she's the barista, guys. a part from that, we have mentions of reader not having enough money, lee know with his misterious aura but being a literal sunshine, also he's insecure :(( unusual hopeless romantic minho too, he's a softie (and whipped) reader's insecure too 😔 mentions of overworking and skipping meals. minho saves the day!! let me know if i missed something.

If life as a college student was hard, life as a broke college student in a country completely different from your own was pure hell. You had never let it get to you when you said your dream was to make it as a choreographer in Seoul and everyone laughed in your face, so you certainly weren't going to let anything stand in your way now that you had gotten a chance at Seoul's famous arts university, JYPU. The plane ride had been a challenge, because you kept wondering if you were really doing the right thing, but when you landed and saw you had messages of encouragement from your sister and the few friends you had left in your hometown, their words had filled you with determination.

A couple of years had passed since that moment, and perhaps the circumstances were still not the best, but you were still determined to achieve everything you set your mind to. The language barrier had not been a big problem, because you had learned some Korean while you were in high school, but it had only helped you to find that tiny room you were living in and get hired at the dance studio a couple of blocks away from the faculty. You were earning enough to pay for food, rent, and the materials you needed for class. But when understanding your classmates became a little more complicated, when the language used in the lectures became more technical, you had to pay a personal teacher to help you improve your Korean. And since you didn't have enough money, you were forced to fit a second job into your busy schedule, getting a little bit of extra money to live slightly more comfortably.

A friend of a friend from the Music Production department had recommended you to the owner of the most famous café on campus, and after hearing your story, he had hired you right away. This Chris guy had been very nice, and had taken an interest in your schedule to find the shifts that suited you best, even waiting for you after one of your classes to have lunch with you and talk about everything in peace and quiet. You had never met a boss so concerned about his employees, and he made it much easier to have to get up before dawn to be the one to open the café, because he always left you some candy hidden in your apron pockets or a note encouraging you to start the day with a smile.

However, the first time you had covered the morning shift, the 5.30 am shift, there was a guy waiting at the door. You had arrived, exhausted as you were every day, the laptop and your college books weighing like heavy bricks in the backpack on your shoulders, along with the sports clothes you wore for the afternoon classes. Chris had told you to be there at the normal time and he would show up to explain some of the details and give you the keys. After all, it was your first day. But instead there was a tall, slim guy leaning against the metal grille, his slightly long bangs covering his eyes, though that didn't stop him from scrolling lazily on his phone, headphones hanging around his neck, and looking flawlessly put together. Certainly not how someone should look on any given day at 5:30 in the morning.

You flashed a shy smile as you reached his level and he lifted his head to find out who you were, his sharp cat-like eyes sparkling from the reflection of the light on his phone screen, and you grabbed your own in a hurry to send a message to the cafe owner.

You 5.32am Hi, Chris I already arrived, where are you?

Chris 5.32am Hi, sorry Still in the subway Like... 2 minutes away

You 5.33am Yeah, no worries It's just There's this guy...

Chris 5.34am OMG wait Dark aura, looks like a cat and gave you a dirty look when you showed up?

You 5.35am Yeah, quite accurate

Chris 5.35am Oh, that's Minho Don't mind him, he's inoffensive Most of the time He's there for his morning coffee

You 5.36am Okay, then See you!!

Chris 5.36am 👍🏼

And then he showed up, out of breath, in a hurry, around the street corner, phone still in his hand, unblocked. You smiled unconsciously, trying to ignore Minho's gaze weighing on you while Chris approached, flashing his dimples as he stopped in front of you to catch his breath, breathing some kind of greeting that you responded to with a nod. He pulled out a dinosaur-shaped keychain, a very adorable doodle version, and bent down to unlock the metal grille, pull it up ーgiving a little jump to get it all the way upー and unlatch the lock on the door. Minho hadn't bothered to greet him, you guessed it was a common thing between them, and he didn't look up from his phone screen either, a bored gesture plastered on his face. You followed Chris as he entered the café, leaving your backpack on the counter, and standing awkardly in the middle as he went to switch on the electrical panel.

"Get his coffee ready while I finish up in here," he instructed you, stepping into what you thought was the kitchen, "I'll be right out to help you."

You nodded, grabbing the apron from the rack that already had your name on it, and stood behind the counter, Minho having rested his forearms on the surface, again with the phone in his hands. If he was reading some article or playing some online game it must have been interesting, because except for the few furtive glances he had given you, his eyes had been glued to the screen the whole time. Clearing your throat, making just enough noise to get his attention, you flashed your best customer service smile, "What'll you have?"

"Cappuccino" he mumbled, sitting up and stretching absently, "grande, to go".

You made a small affirmative noise, turning on the coffee machine, and picked up the cup in the size he had asked for, with its respective lid.

"Chris, where's the milk?" you asked, walking into the kitchen, stifling a laugh when you caught him wrestling with the flour, staining his dark blue t-shirt white.

"'Storage room'" he muttered, his ears taking on a reddish hue, "If there isn't any under the counter, Jisung must have forgotten to restock it last night."

You hurried into the kitchen supply room, after grabbing a scoop of coffee powder and put it in the machine to make some espresso, and came out with two packs of milk, setting them down on the floor to place them as soon as Minho left, but grabbing one of the bottles to make the steamed milk and creamer.

It wasn't your first time working as a barista, and not in the hostelry industry either, so really the only thing you had to get used to was the café distribution. Luckily, Chris seemed like a pretty neat guy, so you didn't think it was going to be much of a problem. You set about pouring the milk into the necessary containers to heat it to your liking and get the effect you were looking for, as the coffee dripped into the cup you were using to measure the amount, the chestnut-colored liquid falling, first in drops and then in a small stream of caffeine, flooding the white porcelain.

You mixed it on the counter, in front of Minho, so he could see how you did it, although you hadn't seen him look up from his phone at any moment. Actually, he had been watching you. He always did 一observing his surroundings, that is一, but with you his eyes flashed with curiosity. Chris was known for rescuing stray souls in need of a job, a quality through which he had met most of his friends, and he wanted to find out why a girl like you would have caught his eye, or would need extra money. Usually JYP University students had wealthy parents, and if that wasn't the case, they had at least gotten a temporary job that allowed them to live comfortably. But you had arrived, with your worn converse and patched hoodie, your backpack full of safety pins and big dark shadows under your eyes, screaming to anyone who could see that you didn't quite belong there.

He had wanted to take care of you. It had crossed his mind for an instant to give you a friendly smile, to introduce himself, to ask you about you; he had felt the need to approach you and engage you in a conversation that would allow him to get to know you better. Because as soon as he laid his eyes on you, he knew that despite being two strangers, you were going to be the one who, only with the sweetness of your voice and the kindness of your gaze, would break through all that was and what was remaining of him once you left him, would turn his unleashed fire into a warm hearth. But he wasn't good with words, and you had rushed to grab your phone to busy yourself, watching his chance fade before he could even realize it. It had bothered him how comfortable you seemed to feel with Chris, even though he knew his friend had that effect on people, and how you'd smiled when you'd seen him show up, like he was saving you from someone 一from him.

But at the same time, he had struggled not to curl his lips as he realized how strange you felt in the situation you were in, standing at the entrance of the café, as if waiting for instructions. It wasn't that you were a contradiction, but that you caused him too many dilemmas. Like having to repress that electricity that ran through him the only time you looked into his eyes, when you looked up to check how much his coffee cost and he already had the money in his hand. He had tried not to brush his hand against yours, dropping the coins onto your palm at full speed and picking up his cup, leaving the place, with you still on his mind. He couldn't concentrate in class that day.

Unfortunately, you had no other choice but to focus. The scholarship you had been given depended on your grades, thanks to which you had obtained a place at the university. If you dropped below your grade point average, they would take it away from you, and that was something you couldn't allow. But some thoughts had slipped in your mind about the boy you had met that morning, remembering the shape of his eyes, sharp and rounded at the same time, and his slender figure. You had allowed yourself to smile at the memory of him, even as you hurried to stuff your backpack and boots into the locker at the academy where you worked, your jeans exchanged for a leotard and the most comfortable sweats you had, always arriving a couple of minutes earlier than required so you could get ready.

But even if you wanted to stop thinking about him you couldn't, because soon what you had considered an isolated event became a habit that every day was harder to break. The next morning, after barely five hours of sleep, you got up again, crawling as best you could to the outside of your cramped room, your body trying to feed on the freshness that the shower had left on your skin, your heavy backpack digging into your shoulders. And when you managed to reach the café, the keys tightly clutched in your fist, he was there, again, his long figure leaning against the grille, again, and his gaze fixed on his phone, again.

When he heard you, your stifled pants revealing your presence, he sought your eyes, separating himself from the wall so that you could open. You bent down, sitting back on your heels, to undo the lock on the grille, and accompanied it with your hand as you stood up again, mimicking the hop you'd seen Chris take the day before to get it all the way up. Unfortunately, it only got halfway up, and you felt your cheeks redden with embarrassment, fearing that Minho had seen it. Still you pretended nothing had happened, trying to straighten your shoulders under the weight of the backpack, unlocked the door, leaving it open behind you, and stepped inside.

You repeated the steps that Chris had indicated to you the previous morning, going directly to the electric panel to turn on the power, and then you entered the kitchen, crossing it until you reached the room reserved for the staff, leaving your backpack on one of the chairs, and taking the apron that had your name on it before leaving. You hung it around your neck as you undid your steps, and by the time you got behind the counter Minho was already pinning his catlike gaze on you.

"Grande cappuccino to go?" you asked, your fingers tapping on the surface like a piano in a nervous gesture that Minho found adorable.

He merely nodded, averting his gaze to his phone screen, as if he had somewhere more important or urgent to be and was checking the time to make sure he had enough minutes left to get there. It was a somewhat pretentious gesture on his part, without stopping to think whether it would make you feel better or worse, but he couldn't help it. He was torn between absorbing every detail you could offer him, and trying to delay the moment when you would reject him, when his feelings would be too obvious to be denied. And even if he had mentally chosen the second option, he let his gaze follow you as he performed a graceful dance with the sole purpose of making his coffee.

He had noticed a difference from when Chris made it to when you had made it. Minho didn't know if it was your expert hand or some ingredient you had used to make it, but it tasted slightly sweeter. And since he had tasted it he hadn't been able to stop thinking about what your lips would taste like, if he got to kiss them someday. Minho kept telling himself that it was a silly crush, that the butterflies he felt in his stomach when you handed him his glass were the effect of hunger, of thirst, of any excuse he could think of but the ghost of the feel of your skin on his. Or maybe you were a witch, and had used his cappuccino as a love potion.

However, it didn't matter anymore. If you had wanted to have him trapped in your web, he wasn't going to be the one crying out for help to be rescued. Not when he felt his heart falling off a cliff every time you looked at him, adrenaline racing his pulse, not knowing for sure when it would stop. At least until he handed you the money, turned around and walked out of the café, the bite of the cold winter air bringing him back to reality, leaving behind the pleasant warmth of the place, and also of your smile, which he could still feel in the palm of his hand thanks to the coffee you had made for him.

And meanwhile you watched him walk away, the coins still in your hand, until there was no trace of him left. Then you sighed, coming out of that strange daydream in which you were interacting ーif you could call what you were doing thatー and put the money away, leaving the apron on the counter and taking a chair. Your problem wasn't being short, it was not knowing how to jump high, you decided, as you leaned the chair against the street and looked up, more than willing to climb the grille to the same height Chris had left it the day before.

To your surprise, it was in place, even though you knew perfectly well that you had left it halfway up only five minutes earlier. You shrugged your shoulders and went back inside, leaving your chair in place and hurriedly putting on a black shirt before tying on your apron and starting your day.

The next morning, you went to work with your heart in a fist, expecting to see him leaning against the grille, letting out a small sigh of relief when you saw that he was. You hid the smile that struggled to appear on your lips, and frowned as you looked at him, refusing to let the mere presence of a stranger affect your mood that way.

This time, Minho greeted you with a quick glance and a small nod, a display that made you blush, hiding your reddish cheeks from him as you bent down to lift the grille. You figured that this routine between the two of you would be repeated quite often, since you weren't planning to quit your job and he was going to need his coffee every morning, so you decided to put all your effort into maintaining a cordial relationship with him.

You soon realized that he was the type of person who also got up early on weekends, since you still had to cover your shift and he was still at his usual 5:30 am spot. You had no idea what he was studying ーor even if his major that was the reason he was getting up so early. And it wasn't like you were going to ask Chris either, you didn't know him well enough to figure out if he would tell Minho or not.

In fact, he kept making stupid excuses for why he had to go to your unofficial morning appointments. He told himself you wouldn't have anyone to climb the grille for you. What if the lock on the door got stuck and you couldn't get in? His coffee addiction had nothing to do with it, although he would probably develop one just from drinking so much cappuccino, and if he didn't feel like getting up one day, just the thought of knowing that he would be able to see you before going to class made him wake up instantly.

And somehow he ended up going on the weekends as well. The first Saturday just to see if you were also working those mornings, stuttering his order when he saw that you had already opened and he hadn't been there, but after taking the first sip from his cup he had to sit for a long time on one of the benches in the nearest park, feeling sick at the fixation he had developed with you.

Could he consider it a crush when he tried to look for you with his eyes every time he leaned to wait for you, pretending to use his phone? When he walked through the corridors of his college and thought he recognized your beautiful hair in the crowd, only to end up being a random girl? When his heart stopped for a few moments as soon as he entered the café that morning just because he heard you laugh?

That Sunday he was on the verge of not going. But every minute that passed and it got closer to the time to open the café, his anxiety increased, so he dressed in the first shorts he could find and a shirt he had lying on his bed and decided to go for a run. He wasn't a big fan of doing sports, but he liked the feeling that flooded his body once he finished, exhausted, knowing that it had been worth it. He had jogged towards 5STAR, towards you, ready to drink his morning coffee.

Until that moment the only thing that kept him from murdering anyone who bothered him as soon as he woke up had been the caffeine shot, but he had lately been smiling only thanks to you for a week, and it was much healthier that caffeine. That Sunday you had looked at him, surprise on your face, probably because he had changed his normal outfit for a slightly more revealing one, and you had had to clear your throat before asking if he would have a cappuccino. He had smiled shyly and asked for a pastry to go with his coffee, since he wasn't willing to go running on an empty stomach, and had waited as long as it took while you put the first batch of croissants in the oven.

He had pretended not to notice, too, when you stole glances at him from the kitchen, blushing when he couldn't help himself anymore and made eye contact with you. After all those days he still wondered why you kept asking him if his order was still a cappuccino, when his answer had always been yes, but he would never dare to find out, because hearing your sweet voice was a hell of a lot better than all the alarms on his phone. What he didn't know was that you adored the look on his face, his lips curving slightly and nodding adorably, and that you weren't willing to give that up either.

The mornings went on, each and every one of them with the same repressed interaction, and the same warm feeling in your chest as you said goodbye to each other until the next day, neither of you making the first move. You had grown accustomed to his presence, almost inherent in your morning routine, and he had learned to soften his attitude in front of you, but never without exchanging more than three words in a row.

The first time you said something different, a few weeks later, was when you mustered the courage you needed to thank him for raising the grille for you every morning. At first he had done it slyly, taking advantage of you coming into the kitchen to make a little jump and push it up. Then he hadn't cared if you saw it or not, realizing that if he wanted you to notice him he would have to be a little more obvious. And now he was doing it without any kind of embarrassment, waiting for you to pull it up more or less to your height to take the leap, in front of you.

"Thanks for helping me with the grille" you had whispered, pouring the milk into the glass, while the coffee was being made behind your back.

He had made a nonchalant gesture, as if it wasn't that important, or if he had done it for anyone, and he had seen you smile, embarrassed, but his ears had turned red.

That same day, taking advantage of meeting up at Han's apartment with the group of friends, he followed Chris into the kitchen when he offered to go get more beers and tried to ask some sly question about you. Chris was no fool, evidently, but he let Minho get the information he wanted. It was most adorable to see his gaze light up at the mere mention of your name, or how he drank in the words Chris whispered hurriedly about you, fearful that any of the others would walk unannounced into the kitchen and interrupt them.

You, on the other hand, had begun one of the most difficult periods of the term: when your exams were combined with the recitals of the girls you were teaching, limiting your time even more and drowning you in due dates, subjects to study and two jobs you couldn't afford to loose. You couldn't complain about how lucky you had been to find jobs that matched your preferences, but you did say, without hesitation, that the one at the café was much better than the one at the dance academy. Not only in something as obvious as the salary, but the conditions were nicer with Chris as the boss than with that man who had assumed that because you were a woman and beautiful you would surely be better at teaching ballet and dealing with the little girls.

That was what you had confessed to Han, since his shift was the one after yours, while you took advantage of the brief ten minutes he managed to save for you, arriving earlier than he should have, and you spent by having a coffee. He had nodded, giving you to understand that he was listening to you, while he stored all that information to be able to communicate it later to Minho. All the co-workers you had dealt with had been very nice to you, but Han was your favorite. He compensated for your introversion with witty and funny comments on his part, which made you burst out laughing and the mood relaxed. He always paid attention to everything you said - even if he had hidden intentions to do so - and you had several hobbies in common.

Besides, he was the only one who would talk to you about Minho without having to ask, and even if you pretended to be disinterested, he could see the way you nodded at his words, and your lips tried to avoid curling up at the silly anecdotes in which you were utterly oblivious to this different version of the gentle Minho who said good morning to you. He would brighten up your breakfasts, at least until you realized what time it was and rushed off to avoid missing your morning classes.

Because the classes were also demanding enough. It may not have been as difficult as a science degree, but the exams on music history and dance, along with all the physical sessions and dances you had to prepare for the end of the semester not only tired you mentally, but you would arrive home at night totally exhausted, with just enough energy to take a shower and go to bed. You would also skip a meal or two due to lack of time, resulting in quick snacking whenever you had a second. More than once your belly had growled in the morning, in front of Minho, and you had formulated a quick apology, without even turning around, too embarrassed.

They weren't the best conditions for a healthy life, even less if you were a teenager trying to survive, but it was the only - and best - thing you had. At least you had your mornings at 5STAR, with the opportunity to see Minho every day without fail, and the hours at the academy with your girls, who were immensely fond of you. Seeing their excited faces when you proposed to change the typical play based on the Nutcracker or Swan Lake for an invented version with all the Disney princesses made the two nights you had spent almost without sleep planning the story and the choreography worthwhile. That way everyone would have a starring role, and not just the one who got the main role, which was something you had missed in your childhood, so you were happy too.

One morning, however, when Minho came to your not-date, the café was already open. It wasn't that the fact itself was strange ーyou had sometimes arrived early because you hadn't been able to sleepー but that the grille was all the way up, and you always left it halfway up no matter what time you arrived. When he entered, the door bell ringing behind him, the one who came out to greet him was Changbin, another of his friends, who flashed a mischievous grin at his confused face.

"Looking for your girl?"

"YN is not my girl" he protested, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans.

"Ah, but you took it for granted I was talking about her" the boy replied, winking at him, starting to make his coffee.

Minho missed your sleepy voice as you murmured good morning to him, and the graceful way you moved behind the counter, in and out of the kitchen, gathering all the ingredients and utensils you needed to prepare his breakfast, which although varied in pastries, always consisted of a cappuccino. He pulled out his wallet, preparing the coins he always counted out before handing you over, and the movement caught Changbin's attention.

"So you're not going to ask?" he said, rephrasing, still with his back turned.

"You seem to be eager to tell me," he replied, rolling his eyes, "so go ahead."

"Oh, you're no fun" Changbin complained, his face contracting into an adorable pout.

"I didn't mean to be" Minho said, cracking a sarcastic smile.

"You know what, I'm sure you wouldn't have responded to her like that" he muttered, pouring the milk into the cup. "Anyways, I'm sure Han will text you as soon as he finds out, but Chan hyung convinced her to ask for a couple of days off."

"Chan hyung?" Minho couldn't help but frown, not understanding.

"Apparently, YN has been pushing herself more all month" Changbin explained, picking up a cup-sized cap, finishing his friend's order, "and you know how Chan hyung is when he sees someone overworking."

"He gets all protective" summed up the dancer, paying for the drink.

"Exactly" he stated, crossing his arms once Minho had his coffee in his hand, "and she must have been having a really hard time. I guess Chan hyung asked her about her schedule to find out which days would be better for her to rest, and yesterday he asked me if I could cover her shift."

And it had been that way. Just the day Chan had decided to stop by to see how you were doing, he had found you passed out on the kitchen floor. You had made him promise not to tell anyone, and he had sworn to keep his lips sealed, only if you let him make sure you were okay. He had woken up one of the other employees, and then had taken you to his house. You had been somewhat shocked by the seriousness with which he had taken it all, but you had let him do it, rambling about everything you had to do and how little time you had, while he prepared a very nutritious breakfast for you.

"You should quit that job at the academy" he had advised you, his gaze fixed on the chicken frying in the pan.

"I can't" you had protested, whining, "there's less than a week until the Christmas performance. I couldn't let the girls down like that."

"Are you willing to quit after that, though?"

"If I find a better job," you had supposed, shrugging, trying to avoid yawning.

"What if I offer you a double shift at a higher salary?" he had proposed, filling the plates with food and setting them in front of you, reaching for a clean set of chopsticks, "I can even switch you to the afternoon, so you'll get more sleep."

"That's very kind of you, Chris," you had murmured, "but I don't know if it would be a good idea. Or legal, at this rate. You're already paying me more than my fair share."

"You could find a roommate, then" he had continued, not giving up, "I know a guy who..."

"Thank you, really," you had tried again, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at his effusiveness, "but I'd rather sort it out myself."

Chan had looked down, blushing as he realized he had gone too far anyway, and had apologized, leaving you to eat in peace. You couldn't thank him enough for how much it had meant to you that he had accepted you into his house and fed you, but he had more surprises up his sleeve. He had told you that he was going to give you two days off, and also that he knew someone in your class who could get you the notes of what you would be taking that week in the main subjects, so that you could spend the next few days resting. Before saying goodbye, you had given him a big hug, almost crying, and you had returned to your little room, more than ready to faint from exhaustion.

But Minho didn't know that. For him it was the first time you had been absent, and the first notice that you were really that unwell. Not that he hadn't noticed the dark circles under your eyes, but you had always looked so cheerful in front of him in the mornings, with that bright smile that lit up the café when you saw him, that he hadn't realized the real gravity of the situation. And he blamed himself for it, for his lack of attention to detail, for having been so absorbed in his feelings that he hadn't realized your own reality.

That's why the next day he didn't go: it didn't make sense, since he knew you weren't going to be there. And in any case, he wasn't in the mood to get up so early. He didn't go to class either, his mind too absent-minded to attend to three straight hours of long, monotonous explanations. But he didn't miss his daily appointment at the dance academy, one of the few places where he could let himself go, it's physical exertion and music taking him away from all the buzz he had in his head. He would go to practice the dances he had to present in his subjects, but also to memorize choreographies he found on the internet or create his own from scratch.

The mere fact of putting the bottle of water and the change of clothes in his sports bag for later made a slight curve form on his lips, wishing that the subway would move at the speed of light so he could arrive as soon as possible, and nodding as a greeting to one of the owners of the place, who was always sitting at the reception desk, heading straight to the studio he had booked.

That evening Yewon was not in her usual place, but running back and forth, somewhat stressed, having exchanged her usual low heels for ballet slippers.

"Hello, Minho!" she greeted him, waving some papers with a hurried gesture. "You have studio C10, as usual, but I will have to change it tomorrow!"

"What's all the fuss about?" he asked, securing the strap of his bag over his shoulder in a nervous gesture.

"Two of our teachers couldn't make it today, and it was unexpected," she explained, not bothering to use the comfortable office chair to type something quick on the computer. "Jisoo took maternity leave after a little scare with the baby, to be at home and rest. But Jinyoung has finally quit."

"The one who wanted to set up his own academy?"

"That same one," she replied, trying to stifle a complicit laugh. "I'm covering his ballet classes, but I'm short of someone to take over Jisoo's hip hop classes. You wouldn't be willing to volunteer, would you?"

"With kids?" Minho tried not to let his panicked face show too much.

"Yes, but only today," she replied, letting out a melodic laugh. "You can wipe off that scary face, don't worry. My sister is in Jeju, sorting out some family issues, and she'll be back tomorrow. She'll take care of it until Jisoo and her baby are healthy and the happy mom can continue working."

"Huh" he knew he couldn't refuse, not when Yewon had always been so nice to him, even if he was late on one of the months' payments, always greeting him with a smile. But children made him panic. Those little humans who judged you without a filter, always bursting his eardrums with the screams they made, and so wild that they deliberately ignored any orders they received. He realized it sounded like he was describing real demons, but in his experience, it was totally justified. "Right."

Yewon clapped her hands in excitement and led him to one of the studios reserved for afternoon classes. They always put the children in the larger rooms, so they could run around freely. And if you were able to teach ballet for whole afternoons to children, surely it couldn't be too bad for him. After all, he was pretty good at hip hop, and he had a couple of easy choreographies he could teach.

Luckily, the group was small ーfour boys and three girlsー more than willing to learn, half of them with dreams of becoming idols, and all of them with wide eyes watching him dance for the first time. It wasn't the first time people had complimented him, but the fact that eight-year-olds were looking at him with such admiration made him die of embarrassment, and also made it seem much more real than any empty words they could ever give him.

When the time came to an end, he had gotten as much exercise as any other day, had laughed a lot more, and had not been alone, like the vast majority of his afternoons, though unfortunately he had not found a solution to your problem. Yewon left the ballet studio, sweating but smiling, waving goodbye to his students, thanking him again and again after Minho high-fived all his children. It was only after a quick shower that he knew what he should do.

The break had been wonderful for you. You had dedicated yourself to sleeping and eating, without worrying about anything but going to your ballet classes on time, and you were afraid that getting used to it would be easier than breathing. You kept telling yourself that what you were experiencing was a temporary hiatus for a couple of days, something Chris had managed to do but it wouldn't last forever, and that you should be grateful. Although you should also try to figure out what was going to be your life after that, because going on as you were was not an option.

But you were tired of looking for a job and the options getting worse. If the pay was perfect, the schedule was bad for you. If it fit with your classes, it wasn't worth it because it was too far away or the salary wasn't enough. You were definitely going to keep the job at the café, but you also wanted to keep the job at the academy. You were totally lost. Maybe you could stay the same for a couple of months, asking for fewer hours and saving a little more at home. Cut back on showers to the academy bathroom, and try to ration your meals. It could work.

After the established time had passed, you came back. And you were looking forward to it. You got up energized, grabbing a couple of pieces of fruit while you packed your stuff in your backpack, and even noticed it less heavy on the way to the café. When you arrived, you didn't see Minho in his usual place, but since it wasn't the first time either you shrugged your shoulders and opened the grille, leaving it halfway and going in, following the routine that by now, you knew by heart. You busied yourself with the trays of croissants and brownies that some co-worker called Felix was leaving ready on his shift for the next day, waiting for Minho to arrive. You had the milk ready, the coffee powder already in the machine. All you needed was for him to show up to press the button and serve it to him.

Only he didn't show up.

It was the sound of the grille going up that made your heart race, and you left the staff room totally hopeful. But although you expected to see the young man with the mischievous smile and gentle gaze, you found a guy you didn't know at all, looking lost, and a little nervous tic in his hand. You took a big breath of air, forcing a smile, and stood behind the counter.

"Good morning," you murmured. "What will you have?"

"Oh, hi" he said to you, trying to avoid your glance. "I didn't know if it was open yet...".

"Yeah, yeah" you affirmed, the shy curve of your lips reassuring the boy, "don't worry. I usually have a friend of mine come over to help me with the grille, but he's not here yet."

"Then I was right to put it up, wasn't I?" he asked, his fingers still drumming on the surface of the counter.

"Yes, of course," you confirmed, your hands fiddling with the edge of the apron, trying not to let your disappointment at the boy's presence show too much, "thank you. What will you have?"

"A macchiato, please."

Similar to a cappuccino, you thought, unable to get Minho out of your mind. You didn't know why his absence was affecting you so much. You didn't even have that much of a relationship. Outside of your greetings, and small conversations here and there, you didn't interact much else. Even if after all this time you felt you had known him all your life, even if seeing him in the mornings made your day, even if you wished you could spend your whole life mixing espresso with milk if it meant Minho smiled the way he did.

Your shift took forever, each coffee making lasting longer than necessary, and perhaps too short, customers coming and going and none of them being who you expected. You understood that the shock must have been the same for him ーin case his feelings for you were remotely similarー on the days you had been absent, and you feared that he had grown tired. That so many shared mornings would have been for nothing, and yours would have been a relationship by proximity. It wasn't the first time you had maintained such a friendship with people, because you were forced to go to the same place together every day, and not because there was actually any bond.

Maybe he thought you were not coming back, and had decided to look for coffee somewhere else. Maybe you had misinterpreted everything you had experienced, and had taken cordiality for friendship. Maybe nothing of what you felt was reciprocated, and again you had been daydreaming.

Despite all your efforts, you couldn't concentrate on your classes that day. You took the lunch break you had promised Chris, pulling out of your backpack a container of a small salad you had made yourself in the morning and a piece of brownie Han had slipped in when he thought you weren't looking. After retiring to the library for a couple of hours to study you went to the academy, ready to go over the dance with your girls.

You wore your leotard under your jeans, so, as usual, you only had to put on your sweatpants and ballet slippers, locking yourself in the studio half an hour early to dance by yourself for a while, and at five o'clock, letting it fill up with energetic and joyful girls, ready to become their favorite Disney princess for a few hours. You always had a great time, and in your heart it made up for everything it meant in your private life.

After the shower, as you were coming out of the changing room with your hair still slightly damp but back in your normal clothes, your backpack slung over your shoulder, walking down the hallway towards the lobby, you stopped when you heard Minho's voice. You couldn't make out what he was saying, but you could hear the angry voice of your boss, and you peeked your head around the corner, trying to see without being seen, in time to see your boss hit the table lightly and Minho frown in an annoyed gesture, turning around.

You hurried out, ignoring the exclamations of your boss calling you, and followed Minho. He was carrying a cup of coffee that wasn't from 5STAR, and for a moment you feared it was over altogether. That he had found somewhere else to buy his cappuccino. That maybe your friendship had broken down without you realizing it. That it didn't mattered if you thought you didn't care if it never evolved into something more ーsomething you longed forー, you were content with whatever it was that you had. You noticed also the jacket he was wearing, the logo of a dance academy that wasn't yours drawn on his back, and tried to match his long steps to reach his pace.

He was heading in the direction of the bus stop where you usually caught the one that dropped you off near where you lived, and you got on after him, sitting down next to him, still frowning.

"YN?" he mumbled, taking off one of his earbuds so he could talk to you, turning his body slightly to try to face you.

"What were you doing talking to Mr. Kang?"

"Huh?" he asked, as if he hadn't understood anything you had said.

"I've never seen you outside the café before," you told him, propping your backpack between your feet, "and just the day you don't come in the morning I see you in the afternoon at my academy, when you don't even come here."

"Well... It has an explanation" he tried to defend himself, his ears turning red. "Han had said... Ehem, since you didn't come to work these days... I..."

"I was resting" you told him, leaning your back against the backrest, "I had been having some complicated days, and Chris has recommended me to change jobs, but I don't know..."

"I know" he interrupted you, "I know. That's why I was talking to your boss."

"What?"

"He told me that next week is the performance you've been working on for the past few months" he summarized, avoiding looking at you, not feeling ready to find out if he had taken too much of a risk or not. "I wanted him to make your work conditions better, and maybe I told him that the academy I go to they have an opening for a ballet teacher so he should watch out how he treats you. They pay like a normal job, not a part-time one, and the schedule is the same."

"Really?" you stifled a cry of excitement, covering your mouth with your hand, "Oh my God it's perfect! It's literally the miracle I was waiting for! I'm so happy I could..."

"You could...?" he repeated, urging you to finish the sentence.

But you couldn't finish it. You didn't know if you should. It would be crazy, in fact.

"Whatever," you solved, seeking to change the subject, "it doesn't even have to do with dancing."

"And what does it have to do with?"

You cleared your throat, mumbling an answer you knew he couldn't hear, too embarrassed to let it sink in, hoping he had heard it, and also hoping the opposite at the same time.

"With you" you repeated, this time louder, looking into his eyes when he asked you to say it again.

"With me?" he breathed, his heartbeat increasing its speed, roaming his gaze all over your features.

"Yeah" the worst thing it could happen was that he rejected you, and he never came againg to the café. And you already thought that was what had happened, so there was no point in not trying it. "I was going to say that I'm so happy I could kiss you right now".

"Kiss me?" unable to think straight, he was only repeating what you voiced, watching your lips moving and your cheeks slightly blushed.

You flashed a bright smile and caressed his cheekbone, the pad of your finger gentle and soft against his skin, and his breath got caught in his throat, swallowing hard, and confirming your crazy theory of him liking you back. He tried to touch you the same way, his hand twitching with anticipation, but it fell to his lap when you kissed him, his eyes closing down immediately to focus on the way your lips moved over his, lazy, slowly, enjoying every single second.

Minho knew that he had fell first, and harder, and then he had waited patiently for you to reciprocate his feelings. And when you did, you understood that his heart was so full of love and adoration you couldn’t stop yourself to love him in the same deep, absolute and fathomless intensity.

☆ series masterlist !!

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#about: i wanna be yours #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho fluff #lee know fluff #☆ㅤ🪐 writings #☆ㅤminho recs!!

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strayed-quokka · 2 years

Text

unsupervised || hwang hyunjin

» summary: there’s a reason you skip church on sundays, but no one would ever know that reason was your friend, hwang hyunjin.

» pairing: hyunjin x reader

» rating: NC-17 minors dni

» genre: friends with benefits, smut

» warnings: porn with like no plot, reverse cowgirl, creampie, possessiveness, sub reader, dom hyunjin, unprotected sex, spanking, mentions of marking, use of a vibrator, lingerie, form of breathplay (?), chocking, bruising, pet names, degrading names, brief crying, think that's it...

» words: 2,345

» a/n: so maybe i am a hyunjin blog… sue me... funnily enough i was working on my sunwoo smut when i decided to deviate a little… said sunwoo smut still coming though cause boyyy 🥵

Your family didn’t like Hyunjin. He’d never really given them a reason to dislike him, but your father especially liked to say that there was just something about him.

When Hyunjin first found out your family's distaste for him, he immediately complained. He was sweet and attentive, helping your mother load the dishwasher after dinner, and even helping your younger brother with bible studies. From the outside, Hyunjin was a perfect gentleman and a close friend of yours, so what the hell was he doing wrong?

He went to parties he didn’t want to attend if you were going just to make sure nothing happened to you and spent hours on homework that you didn’t understand just so that it felt a little bit easier for you.

Hyunjin was sweet, until the day your friendship changed into something sinful, and maybe then you understood just what that something was that your father had been on about.

It had been a Sunday morning and you’d felt unwell enough for your family to let you stay home from church. You weren’t nearly as religious and deep in your beliefs as them, but you still went with few exceptions and little complaint. That day had been an exception, and Hyunjin had come over to make you feel better.

You’re still not entirely sure how trying to make you feel better resulted in him having his cock inside you, but you got addicted to it and he knew it.

A few months in and far too many Sunday’s missed, your parents were getting suspicious, and on top of it, disappointed. However, your school work wasn’t faltering (second year of university was going surprisingly well), and your behaviour otherwise was more than perfect.

“What’s the excuse this time?” your mother asks as you come down the stairs, still dressed in your pajamas. You sigh, not meeting her eyes as you go to the fridge to grab some water.

“I have a big project,”

“And that can’t wait an hour because-?”

“It’s a group project and we’ll be in a call,” a half lie. You did have a group project, but you weren’t doing it today, and your father seems to consider that you’re not telling the truth before he gives in.

“This is the last time,” you nod, though you don’t think it is. It’s not like Sunday’s were your preferred days to have sex. It just happened to be one of the few times that your family was all out of the house and Hyunjin could wander in the front door. After the time he’d attempted to climb up to your window and nearly fell, that seemed to be the better option.

You wait fifteen minutes after they leave to give Hyunjin the clear, using the time you know it takes him to get here, to change into something you deemed nicer for the occasion.

You’d bought it just yesterday, a lingerie set you hid under your bed just in case. It was a white corset, tight on your waist and pushing your breasts up and together, with a matching white thong. You liked the way it looked, deeming the price tag worth it as you hear the front door shut.

“Where are you?!”

“Bedroom!” you nearly want to add where I always am, genius, but you refrain. Hyunjin liked to be rough with you and you didn’t need to play with fire.

“I swear these damn stair-” the man stops, his eyes shifting from annoyance to a dark lust as he licks his lips, chuckling lowly as he runs a hand through his black hair, “well, look at you.”

“Thought you’d like it,” he hums in approval, shutting the door behind him and moving closer to you.

“I got you a present too,” you’re curious now, watching him reach into his pocket before revealing a small bullet vibrator, “I’m going to make you lose all sense.”

He pushes you, hard enough for you to stumble back and fall onto the bed as he throws his jacket off and his shirt over his head, on top of you not a second later. His kisses are hungry and desperate against your lips in a way that excites you, your thighs pushing together from the tension until he’s gripping one of your legs and forcefully pushing them apart, “don’t even try.”

You moan, feeling his large hand grip around your throat as he pulls away, hovering over you, “open your mouth.”

You obey immediately and the amusement in his eyes is clear as he shoves two of his fingers into your mouth, his other hand loosening the grip on your throat while you suck on his fingers. There’s no doubt in your mind that you already look like a mess, but Hyunjin loves you best that way.

“Imagine if they knew what a whore you are,” you whimper, his fingers moving away from your mouth, down your neck and towards the swell of your breasts. It feels slightly wet from your saliva, and you can feel the arousal cling to your white thong and even along your thigh.

“Look at you. It’s pathetic,” the day Hyunjin had first learned that you loved being insulted when in such a vulnerable position, marked the end for you. Ever since, he loved to make you feel completely submissive in his hold, especially because he knew that nothing turned you on more. He never missed a second to laugh at you for it.

Hyunjin pushes the fabric of your corset down just slightly, but it’s enough for your breasts to spill out and for your erect nipples to meet the cold air. He watches you for a second, making you feel smaller while your legs push together and he tsks, “don’t you learn?”

He practically tears your legs apart, one of his hands pushing your thigh into the mattress with his weight, enough to leave a bruise but you don’t care, while the other moves the fabric of your string thong to one side. Feeling his fingers adjust the piece of clothing and briefly run past your folds makes your eyes squeeze shut, a whimper leaving your throat while your hips push up into his hold.

“Poor baby,” he coos, the familiar mocking tone never leaving him, “it’s even on your thigh.”

You muster the strength to lift your upper body to have a look, but Hyunjin uses the hand that holds your thighs apart to push you back down, hand back on your throat as he squeezes lightly. It makes you dizzy, but you don’t want it to stop, even when he loosens his grip and gives you the chance to signal with your fingers to. You both had your signals, but rarely did you use them.

“You look so pretty like this,” his finger runs over your clit before he spits onto your already glistening folds, using his same finger to push his saliva inside your cunt.

“H-Hyunjin,” he doesn’t answer you in words, rather he lets his hand on your throat move down your chest, his nails scratching the skin.

“You belong to me,” you nearly cry when he adds another finger, leaning down to suck on your neck, like he needs to mark every bare inch of skin to know that you’re his.

“P-please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for anymore and it sounds pathetic, the way your voice breaks, but Hyunjin loves it.

“Please what?” he leans over to one side, and you hear him turn on the vibrator he’d brought, applying light pressure to your nipple. He hisses when you clench around his fingers as a result, and you already know you’re going to come soon.

“Let me come… p-please,” you beg, feeling his fingers quicken their pace whilst the vibrations continue over your nipples, occasionally more forceful and enough to make you shake.

“Are you going to come?”

“Yes! Y-yes,” everything stops. Hyunjin removes his fingers from you and puts the vibrator back down on the bed, and you can’t help the whimper and tears that fall from your eyes, “Hyun-”

“Are you crying?”

Normally, Hyunjin may be concerned, but he knows that your tears are a result of the orgasm you wanted but he wouldn’t let you have, “relax baby, I just want you to come around my cock, is all.”

He stands, removing the rest of his clothing before sitting back on the bed, patting his thigh in a gesture for you to climb on top of him. You do, dragging your body up as he watches you, “shouldn’t I take this off?”

“No, I want it on,” you nod, feeling his hands cup your ass cheeks whilst you grind against him, his cock slowly pushing into your still clothed folds. Your body trembles as a response, and you swear you may have an orgasm soon just from this alone. He works on pushing your underwear to the side again, letting the tip of his cock move against you slowly, teasing your entrance as he pushes his head inside you before taking the pleasure away again.

“Hyunjin… fuck me. Please fuck me,” he couldn't say no to that.

“Turn around,” you do as you’re told, still straddling him as he lets his hand collide with your ass cheek. The sight makes him nearly lose it, and he decides to lose his resolve and push his thick cock inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, how are you always so tight?” you groan, letting out shallow breaths as you try to adjust to his size, though he barely gives you much time before he’s bringing you further down onto his cock, “good girl.”

You mewl at the praise, sat over his hips as you lean onto his legs. He loves the way his cock has completely disappeared inside you, and if it were up to him, he’d move in a heartbeat, but he knows you always like to move first when it comes to being on top, and he respects what you want even if his words towards you say otherwise.

When you first move, his eyes shut tight and he hisses, feeling you clench around him again as you begin bouncing on his cock, slow and careful first before becoming more comfortable. It’s when you begin to quicken your pace that he can’t take it anymore, gripping your hip with one hand before slapping your ass with the other. You clench around him every time and he smirks, a deep chuckle vibrating in his throat, “you like that?”

But he already knows the answer, seeing you sink down on his cock drives him wild, but it isn’t quite enough of what he wants.

He wants to make you scream.

Hyunjin uses the strength he has to bring his hands around you to cup your breasts, using the grip he has on you to pull you down onto him, arching your back at an angle that has him deeper inside you than before, and he pushes his hips up enough so he can replace your thrusts against him with his own.

“Oh god. Hyunjin!” he’s relentless, fucking up into you as you grip the sheets and try to steady yourself but it’s impossible. You let him be the only thing that keeps you in place, pulling you down further by your hair and going deeper.

“Mine. You’re all mine, got it?” you nod, letting him grope your breasts while his other hand finds your throat again, cutting off your pathetic cries and replacing them with mewls and whimpers of pleasure, “you take my cock so good, fuck.”

He releases your breasts and fumbles with something, and it takes you a second to register that he’s reached for the vibrator and that it’s now teasing your clit whilst he’s fucking into you, and it’s embarassing how quickly you come, screaming his name when you do.

It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve had in your life and Hyunjin feels it too, the way your whole body shakes viciously against him as he tries to keep you steady, still thrusting into you until his own orgasm follows yours, his cum spilling inside of you, a low growl ripping through his throat when he thrusts up one more time to keep it stuffed inside you.

You both don’t move for a minute, mostly because you’re both so spent that you have to remember where you even are, and Hyunjin is incredibly careful when he lifts you off him, your muscles crying out as you fall next to him. He pulls you into his arms, though he knows it’s only for a little while before he has to leave and come back later under the pretence that he’s visiting you for the first time that day, supervised.

“They’ll be back soon,” he says, but you want to ignore it. You don’t want them to come back, but it’s not a choice, “you should shower.”

“I don’t want to,” he sighs, gently pushing you away from him though it breaks his heart a little when he does.

“Go shower. I’ll hide the evidence,” you laugh, hitting him lightly though it’s rather pathetic with how your energy is completely wasted.

You listen to him anyway, standing under the shower and cleaning your skin, and when you come out, your bed is freshly made and your window is open, a floral scent in the air. There’s also a sandwhich on your nightstand with a note, and you realise he must’ve left before he could say goodbye.

I heard the car so I ran for it. Forgive me, I love you :)

You laugh, shaking your head at the idiot you call your friend, but you’re also relieved at his attentiveness for the noise downstairs tells you you’re not home alone anymore.

Hours later, you nearly curse Hyunjin for the knowing smirk he gives you when sat at the dining table with your parents, knowing it’s exact intent.

He’s wants to go again and this time, he doesn't care that your family is home.

i am not a hyunjin blog

comments and feedback appreciated. i'm on a writing streak so i'll likely be back with more filth soon also excuse the banner i'm tired and can't afford photoshop anymore 🤧

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #straykidsland #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #smut #minors dni #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut

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summercreolefanfictioner · 8 months

Text

would you like to find out pt. 2 (diabolik lovers modern college au)

pairing: ayato sakamaki x yui komori (feat. kanato and laito)

summary: everything started with a reckless, "I wanna know how it feels like to date."

themes: mostly humor with mentions of nsfw

note: part 1 here

Ayato absentmindedly playing and picking on his food was a rare sight, and it irritated Kanato as it ruins his appetite first thing in the morning. He had been doing it since the whole blonde-dream-girl-he-met-at-a-party-run-off-from-him-the-next-day-after-they-had-sex fiasco. Of course, he endured his brothers teasing him to no end, saying how he got dumped for the first time after a one-night stand (because it was rare; like hello, Ayato Sakamaki, the IT boy of Ryoutei University, the infamous college basketball champion.) It wasn't until the jokes don't sound funny anymore and Ayato wasn't eating takoyaki that Kanato and Laito believed this girl must be some serious shit.

And Kanato, being the prick he is, decided to stab his bacon and eggs so loudly in the morning, uncaring if Laito was staring between his older brothers awkwardly. While the concern was there, Kanato can't help but get irritated at Ayato's constant wistful and hopeless romantic longing.

Ugh. Love and all the neuro-shit.

"U-Umm..." Laito started, feeling Kanato's patience slip away, "Ayato-kun, aren't you going to eat-"

"Let him starve himself over some girl who dumped him," Kanato cut in, the stabbing motions not ceasing anytime soon. How dare he anger him? If that's what he wants, then that's what he'll get.

But Ayato was stubborn. Laito gulped nervously at that.

Oh, no.

Kanato slammed his fists on the table. "Okay, what do you want? Just say anything because I am getting sick and tired of your endless moping."

Ayato sighed again, stopping from his usual ministrations. "You can't help me. You don't know her."

Kanato huffed. "Bullshit. We already saw her leave the day after, remember."

"But you don't know where to find her," Ayato countered to which Laito found himself agreeing with.

To be fair, they don't know anything about this mysterious Yui Komori girl. But if they were to have first impression guesses, the girl seemed the honest yet clueless type. She also has the good girl type, the obedient one who always follows her parents' bidding because she is good like that.

However, the girl attended the party in their house and spent that one night with Ayato. That new information doesn't match their impression. Nonetheless, this Yui Komori can quite be a breath of fresh air. After all, this would be the first time Ayato flirted with a girl from the university since all his exes came from different schools.

"So this Bitch-chan has the curiosity of a cat, after all," Laito mused teasingly. "Not a goody two shoes, I see."

"I've asked random people from my course if they know someone called Yui Komori, but they don't seem to recognize one," Ayato said bitterly.

"Hmm... Ayato-kun, what if she's not really studying in Ryoutei University?"

"Nah, that's impossible." The redhead frowned. There's no way Yui would lie to him about studying in Ryoutei. Besides, the only ones invited to their party were people from the university.

"Well, I guess we could just help you look for this Yui Komori," Laito offered with a beaming smile because if this is what it takes for Ayato to stop his endless sighing over hopeless longings, then so be it. Then he turned to Kanato, giving him the "help me out here or else I'll do something despicable to your belongings" look.

Kanato only sighed in exasperation.

What a drag.

It took four days before Laito informed Ayato something about Yui Komori. It happened one day while he was seeing this one random girl he hooked up with from the Philosophy Department. After their intense sex, she mentioned something along the lines of: "I know that girl. She never skips all the classes. But Laito-kun, she's a bit boring, though? Are you sure you're looking for the right girl?"

And another fun fact: Laito had the same class with the Komori girl at 3pm every Tuesdays.

So Ayato became Laito's substitute, sitting in an unfamiliar class with brand new faces. He looked around for any sign of pale blonde hair and flower hairpins and pink until he spotted her. She was careless and lively, giggling at something her classmates said. Afterwards, the class started, the professor making his usual roll call.

"Sakamaki Laito?"

Ayato raised his hand. "Here."

The professor didn't care, but some of the students whispered, "Eh? But that's not Laito, though. It's the Ayato one."

At the mention of his name, Yui whipped her head back and saw Ayato, sitting five rows away from her. She immediately turned away and tried to shrink from his presence.

What's he doing here?

Once classes ended, Yui quickly got out of her seat and rushed towards the door, letting the crowd of students from the hallway take her until Ayato couldn't see her anymore. Ayato sighed in defeat. It was a one-time chance, and yet he failed.

"So what now?" Laito asked, munching on his salted caramel popcorn as he watched this new movie he rented with Kanato at their living room. "You'll have to wait for Tuesday to see her again."

"I don't have time for that," Ayato countered. "My practice schedule has been moved to Tuesday next week."

Kanato buried his face into Teddy's head, hugging the stuffed bear closer. "We could ask Reiji to give us a copy of her schedule. He's doing an assistant teacher job until next month," he suggested, then he remembered, "Nah. It's a bad idea. As if Reiji would let us know someone's class schedule. He abides by the rule."

"Looks like there goes your hopes and dreams, Ayato-kun," Laito remarked in despair.

Or so they thought.

Why? Because Kanato passed by Yui Komori in the hallway on Thursday. What's more? Her class is held at room 403 from 1pm to 5pm.

He knew because he skipped one of his minor classes and see where this blonde girl will move. He even approached one of her classmates and pretended he was quite interested, making some nonsensical flirtatous remarks on her because the girl looked so easy.

"O-O-Oh that?" the poor girl tucked her hair behind her ear and shyly handed out her class schedule. "Y-You can check it; I don't mind. As long as we see each other after this."

As if Kanato will let that happen.

Ayato was chugging on one of his water bottles in the kitchen when Kanato approached him and said, "I saw your dream girl today."

The redhead stopped at that, turning all his focus on the middle triplet. "Where?"

Suddenly, Kanato whipped out his phone and typed something. Afterwards, Ayato's phone beeped and when he opened it, he received a picture of a class schedule.

"I met a girl who goes to all same classes with that Yui Komori," Kanato informed. "Make sure to use it wisely or else." Because I am so tired of you being so lovesick as hell.

"O-Oh," Ayato was glad. Finally, he could see her again. "Thanks, Kanato."

"Just buy me two pints of ice cream."

"Sure."

"I want the new biscoff one and the chocolate chip cookie."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Yui was bored. Apparently their professor for their 4-hour class this Friday afternoon was absent due to sudden cold. She sighed in her seat, contemplating where she could go since her next class would be for 6 pm onwards.

"U-Umm... Komori-san!" a female classmate called.

"Y-Yes?"

"Y-Your boyfriend's calling out for you."

"Eh? Boyfriend?"

Then she saw some of her classmates whispering to each other, glancing briefly at her before going back to their own businesses. Yui decided she should find ot who this mystery boyfriend, although there's only one person that comes to mind.

I hope he's not who I'm thinking.

"Yo, Chichinashi," Ayato greeted, the familiar smirk flashing on him. "It's been a while."

Yui blushed at the familiar nickname, the whispers behind her getting louder.

This was the start of a roller coaster story.

#Spotify #diabolik lovers #diahell #diabolik lovers headcanons #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #diabolik lovers modern college au #modern college au #yui komori #ayato x yui #ayayui #diabolik lovers ayato #yui komori headcanons #ayayui headcanons #ayayui fanfic #my ayayui heart #sakamaki brothers #sakamaki triplets

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bronzeagepizzeria · 11 months

Text

For @tentoorosemicrofics Moon + Singing

(Or 1.7k words of fluffy nonsense)

READ ON AO3

When Rose Tyler was five years old, she’d been cast as Sheep #3 in her school’s Nativity play.

It wasn’t a very impressive part—not like Keisha, who’d played Mary—but she remembers the pride that’d blazed through her when her Mum’d declared her brief stint as a farmyard animal as ‘incredibly convincing’.

(Which probably wasn’t all that much of a compliment, considering her role had consisted of little more than crouching into herself and some occasional bleating.)

Still, the experience had remained one of her fondest from childhood; her mum had taken her out for chips after, and there was a photo of the two of them outside the chippy—flushed and pink-cheeked from the cold, Rose still in costume, baring her teeth at the camera in a very un-sheeplike manner—framed and hooked onto the wall at their old lost flat.

Years later, (and a universe away,) in the woes of late-stage-pregnancy-induced nostalgia, she’d told the Doctor about it.

Unluckily for her, the Doctor, who was only a recent member of the human race, had never been part of a school stage performance. He’d thought it hilarious, and Rose had had to endure three extremely long days of her husband trying to sneak in the most absurd sheep puns into every conversation.

Until she’d had enough, and the Doctor had learned not to poke the extremely hormonal bear.

“Rooose,” he’d said with the air of a man who simply couldn’t help himself. “ Let me out of the baaathroom.”

When their five year old skips into the kitchen with a crumpled pamphlet and a massive grin, however, the Doctor sings an entirely different song.

“I knew it all along,” he says loudly, sweeping Mia into his arms. “Of course you’ve been cast—no surprises there. It’s in your blood, you know. Your mum was the finest actor her school ever saw.”

Rose groans, exasperated, turning just in time to see her daughter’s face pucker up into a frown.

“Really?” she asks dubiously. Even at her tender age, she knows her father can sometimes be full of it.

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor says, eyes twinkling, pushing a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “They could hardly tell the difference.”

“Shut up,” Rose tells him, whacking his shoulder lightly with a tea towel, before leaning in to press a kiss to their daughter’s forehead. “You’re going to be brilliant, darling.”

The Doctor tells everyone who will listen, and then he tells everyone who won’t, too.

His daughter’s playing a moon. She’s got two whole lines. She’s brilliant.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he tells her suddenly, late at night.

Rose squints up at him, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Wha’?”

“This!” he says, wrestling with an extremely worn piece of paper. “This!”

Rose squints harder, and the script for Mia’s play comes into vision. The text’s been underlined and circled in several places, overwritten with the Doctor’s rapid, slanting hand, the margins full of swirling patterns and ovals she’s come to recognise as the Doctor’s language, the same ones she’d seen on the TARDIS.

The play’s about a boy from an alien planet, the Doctor explains with some amusement, and he’s looking for his pet cat (the starring role, naturally) but he’s lost, and Rose yawns, wondering why this world couldn’t just stick to something simple like the Nativity.

“Why would the moon even know where Abbadon is? And Abbadon—come on. Name a cat that and it’s like you deserve to lose it…”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to,” Rose tells him drowsily.

“What, lose a cat?”

“Think about it this much.”

But the Doctor’s muttering to himself again, something about inflections and enunciation, pen in hand, so Rose turns to her side, succumbing to the warm embrace of sleep.

It's a warm autumn night, the day of the big show. Rose isn’t sure who’s more excited, Mia or the Doctor.

The school’s bustling late into the evening, only for tonight, and her heart grows warm as she notices Mia, who can barely walk in a straight line at the moment, taking in the familiar building like it’s something she’s never seen before.

It’s a whole new entity at night; wind rustling through the neatly trimmed shrubbery, the ducky swings swaying slightly in the playground, excited chattering from all the children running about behind stage and the all too familiar hissed instructions to stay still by exasperated teachers and parents.

They come to a stop backstage. Mia’s nearly vibrating with energy when she turns to look at Rose, eyes flashing sudden worry. “Are you leaving now?”

“I have to,” Rose tells her, squatting so she can be level with her daughter’s small face. “Have to get a good seat, don’t I? You’ll do brilliantly, Mia, we’re already so proud of you.”

The girl nods once, and then her name’s being called, and Mia’s teacher shuffles her away for her costume fitting.

She’s easily one of the smallest children there, and Rose feels a strange twisting in her gut when her daughter turns to give her one last timid wave.

The Doctor’s saved her a seat in the front row, because of course he has, and his extremely battered Converse tap the ground restlessly as he bickers with her mother. It’s a habit he still hasn’t given up, the shoes—no matter how posh he’s dressed, and it endears him to her, impossibly as it may seem, even more.

And he is dressed posh tonight—in his best tux, in fact; Rose simply hadn’t the heart to tell him that he’d gone a little overboard.

“Well?” he asks her immediately, ignoring whatever it was her mum was saying before he caught sight of her.

“All good,” Rose says, plonking down on the seat next to him. “A little nervous, but that’s natural.”

“Nervous?” the Doctor scoffs a bit too loudly, even as his frame visibly relaxes. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s these other parents who’ve got to be nervous. No one’s even going to notice their children after ours—”

“Doctor, shh!”

It’s only when the lights turn on that Rose realises how large the audience actually is.

The auditorium’s packed to the brim, and she feels a swooping unease in the pit of her stomach as she imagines their tiny daughter reciting her two lines under those harsh stage lights.

Had it been this hard on her mum? She spares Jackie Tyler a glance, who is chatting away happily to Pete, and wonders if it gets easier when there’s a bit of a gap in relation.

The Doctor’s muttering to himself again, and Rose wonders if her experience would’ve been as good if she hadn’t successfully pulled off her bleating—if she’d gone on stage, frozen in front of that massive audience and forgotten her lines. She wonders if she should’ve actually checked on what the father-daughter duo were up to every spare moment they got, because God knows what the Doctor’s taught Mia, and—

“Good evening, everyone! Thank you so much for being here today. Our students are so excited to…”

It’s probably a good thing that the Doctor knows the entire script by heart, and proceeds to perform it live, because Rose can barely hear over the pounding in her ears.

Her grip on his palm (when had she grabbed his hand?) tightens when Mia stumbles slightly on entrance, the massive cardboard moon she’s been taped to getting in the way of her feet in her haste to enter stage, but she regains balance swiftly.

“Don’t worry,” she enunciates loudly, her voice clear as a bell. “I’ll show you the way.”

And Rose’s entire being swells with pride.

It’s magnificent, it is—even if the Doctor begins applauding right after (only to be stopped by a mortified Rose), and she can tell by the way her daughter is beaming that all that bubbling anxiety’s now glee, and it’s positively overflowing.

There’s probably not that much she’ll remember about this age in her life but this moment? Of looking into the audience with a sense of accomplishment, and seeing her parents unbearably proud?

This moment is eternal.

The rest of the play flies past, the two of them barely paying attention, still coming off the high that this is their life, and this is their daughter—

“I love you,” the Doctor says abruptly, lifting her palm to his lips. “Thank you.”

For what? she wants to say, but the words never make it out of her throat.

Mia is, thankfully, moon-less when she barrels into her adoring fans, less than half an hour later.

“How was it? HOW WAS IT?”

“Amazing,” Rose says truthfully, giving the girl a big hug, matching a wild smile with one of her own. “You were amazing!”

“You were wonderful, sweetheart,” her mum gushes.

“An incredibly convincing portrayal,” Pete says dutifully. “Best moon I’ve ever seen.”

Mia turns to the last member of the foursome now, the one whose opinion probably matters the most, on tenterhooks.

“Well,” the Doctor frowns, tugging on his ear. “Honestly, I’m a little disappointed.”

Mia’s face falls instantly. Jackie tuts in disapproval.

“Disappointed,” the Doctor continues, “because I didn’t know we raised a thief. What—you thought you could just steal the show like that and get away with it? The other parents are furious, you know. We’ve been getting requests all evening—haven’t we, Rose? They all want to take you home, all jumping at the chance to have such a brilliant performer in the family. I told them I’d think about it, of course…maybe for the right price—”

“DADDY,” Mia shrieks when the penny finally drops. “YOU LIKED IT!”

“Of course I liked it!” the Doctor roars, sweeping the girl into his arms. “I loved it. Nine hundred years, I’ve never seen a better…”

Rose watches them bid her parents goodbye with a slight stinging in her eyes; the Doctor’s face is alight with happiness, and Mia looks like she’s on another planet altogether.

The Doctor notices, because of course he does, stepping closer to Rose.

“What,” he says to Mia, even as his eyes never leave hers, “d’you say to some chips?”

“YES!”

The Doctor chuckles fondly, before lowering the spirited girl to the ground, from where she takes off immediately after her grandparents, probably in the hopes of haggling for a few more sweeties.

He reaches into his jacket pocket then, retrieving a battered looking instant camera. She knows it must’ve been hard to track one of them down—they hadn’t much been in fashion in Pete’s World.

“I know it’s not the same,” he says almost shyly.

Her heart is expanding so much and so fast she thinks it’s a miracle her ribs aren’t cracking from the force of it.

“No,” Rose tells him, beaming, “it’s better.”

#ah these two make me happy #rose tyler #tentoo #tentoorose #tentoo x rose #timepetals #tenth doctor #tenrose #ten x rose #tentoorosemicrofics #mia tyler #it’s the first of June in india so I’m gonna post this and then hit the sack #my fic #ficandchips

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nivtee · 1 year

Text

: ̗̀➛ FEMININE. roronoa zoro

roronoa zoro x fem!reader

fluff ! mutual pining ! flirting ! university / sports team!au

zoro likes the look of the new cheerleader who can't keep her eyes off him

it had been exactly a week and three days since you'd moved to the grand university, and your new life was turning out much different than you'd espected.

exactly three minutes after walking into your first class, you'd learnt almost everything about the red haired girl currently on your right, and had already agreed to try out for the cheerleading team.

nami, the read head, was extremely friendly and never let you go anywhere on your own, and due to just how large the school was you'd never been so greatful.

shaking your head, you paid attention to the way your skirt flittered slightly around the top of your thighs, the bike-shorts underneath peaking at the bottom. the uniform was orange overall with white accents, the skirt sitting just above your hips and the top cutting off just below your ribs.

nami, who was already dressed and ready to go, had been helping you set your hair right. this was the first game of the season and you were, understandably, nervous.

"stop frowning, you'll crease your foundation." nami flicked you in the forehead slightly, kicking your shoes towards you.

"i can't help it." you sat on the change-room bench and changed your socks, making sure to keep your feet off the ground until you placed them in your shoes. "i've never done anything like this, nami."

"you're a natural," she sat beside your and threw an arm around you. "besides, people won't really pay attention to you much since you're on the side." you let out a sigh and smiled at her.

"okay okay, we're gonna be late, c'mon!" grabbing her pole, which she used in the routine, the two of you made your way towards the stadium.

"nami!" you glanced towards nico robin, one of the taller girls on the squad, before looking back over to the field, where the school's team was wandering over to the three of you. nami had her arms wrapped around you, trying her best to warm you up. the rest of the girls had gotten used to the cold win, but you had yet to. "give me a kiss for goodluck?"

"not a chance, sanji. don't you have a game to prepare for?" blackleg sanji was one of the boys who nami had tried to keep you away from, claiming that while he never really overstepped boundaries, he was obsessed with women.

"i can always spare a minute or two for my girls!" he winked, his eyes rolling over to you. "oh-ho! who might this pretty thing be?"

"none of your business, sanji! go away" nami took her arms from around you and pushed on his chest, leaving you just as cold as before.

you all watched them interact, sanji thanking nami for speaking to him and her responding by kicking him in the shins. you shivered, pulling your arms around you.

your routine had gone perfectly, and the entire squad had congratulated you on it, so your nerves were no longer an issue. however, the tips of your fingers turning blue happened to be.

the horn sounded before you could think, and the boys raced over to the middle of the field, nami happily skipping back over to you.

"hey, is that zoro's?" it took you a minute to realise she was looking at you, pointing at the jacket that sat around your shoulders. you hand't even noticed it, but now that it was slung on your shoulders you felt much warmed and shoved your hands into the pokcets.

"who? i'm- i don't even remember putting it on." nico rolled her eyes at you.

"he put it on your shoulders before the horn sounded." you lookaed around the field and then glanced back at her. "he's got the green hair." you glanced out on to the field in time to see zoro wink at you before turning back towards the game.

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x yn #zoro x reader #zoro one piece #zoro x you #zoro x yn #✎dosiewrites #one piece #nico robin #nami one piece #blackleg sanji #fluff #oneshot #mutual pinning

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littlemisspascal · 7 months

Text

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Rating: T

Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:

"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches

Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.

-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest

-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜

Day 1,695

Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know.

Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.

“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”

Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself.

“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”

And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.

“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”

Day 1

The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here.

You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.

When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front.

Actually, now that you think about it…

“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”

“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”

"I'm Frankie, by the way."

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.

Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.

There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Day 183

“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.

You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”

You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.

“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Day 8

The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.

Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.

To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame.

A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”

You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.

Day 1,987

It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.

You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums.

Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either.

“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.

He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.

That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.

It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame.

You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers.

At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.

After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”

“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.

Day 389

Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms.

It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other.

On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.

You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.

“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.

“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”

“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”

You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.

The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.

Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”

Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.

You press save.

“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”

Day 448

You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.

“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”

“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”

Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.

But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.

“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”

Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”

“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”

“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.

“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”

Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.

��Yeah.”

Day 8

Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–

“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.

You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way.

And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”

A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms?

“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”

He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code.

“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”

“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”

“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.”

A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.

“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”

Day 1,448

Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.

You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes.

But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.

Everything leads back to him.

Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams.

You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.

You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…

Day 485

The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there.

As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.

You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.

It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.

But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go.

Day 1,375

You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.

It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it.

Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?

Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.

You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.

“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.

“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”

At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”

“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”

“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”

Day 765

It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.

You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible.

Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”

Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.

Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways.

Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.

You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.

“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”

“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”

“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”

The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”

His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”

It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”

Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu.

Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”

You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”

“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”

Day 1,375

Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.

You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love.

No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.

Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.

No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.

Day 610

In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.

Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.

“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”

He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.

You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”

“Huh?”

“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”

You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.

“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”

He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”

Day 1,375

He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.

But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.

This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.

Infinity is just another word for forever though.

And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—

“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”

—you let them go.

Day 1,669

You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same.

All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here.

Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.

It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.

If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.

Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself.

He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.

You want to…

(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)

You want too many things.

“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”

“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”

“What way?”

Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie.

“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”

The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it.

So you swallow the question down and bury it.

“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”

Day 128

Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.

If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.

Day 2,000

You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him.

It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too.

And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.

But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine.

Day 1,762

“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.

Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community.

“I am,” you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”

Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”

“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”

Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.

“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy.

There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.

“Especially then.”

Day 2,000

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.

“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”

You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.

“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”

“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”

You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.

What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.

“I want us to be together.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots.

“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”

“I know, I know.”

His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”

And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you.

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”

“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”

Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point.

“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedrostories #my fic #my writing #frankie morales

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strwberri-milk · 1 year

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May i suggest a fic or whatever of Kaeya inspired by this song??? It's just so cute to think of it!!!

Hmm I'm going to Indulge a bit :D the reason why ive chosen this trope is bc 1) this song gives me driving at night vibes 2) i konw nothing about mj outside of my friend in elementary LOVED his music and was devestated when he died 3) this song also makes me think of fall in middleschool and that disctinve smell but?? you and him are not staying as tiny children i just used my school experience to set up context :D

You don't know much about Kaeya, other than the fact that the two of you have grown up in the same area. As far as you're concerned, your friend groups don't have much in common and his crowd was very different than yours.

However, he was polite, and you liked that enough. Whenever you two had a class together he made it a point to say hi to you, and if he was sat next to you he'd even make conversation. Outside of that, you had no reason to seek him out, especially thanks to the throng of people he seemed to surround himself with.

Unfortunately for you, Kaeya's somehow developed a devastating crush on you. You didn't seem to remember this, but once when he was younger and new to the school you sat and played with him through many a recess. He knows he's changed a lot, but he had no idea it was so drastic you couldn't put two and two together.

He thought it was just something passing, and that if he spent time with other people he'd get over it. But, the more time passed the more this ache to have you in his life persisted. Kaeya could never act on it - he was far too terrified to change the seemingly inert state of your relationship.

For now, he'd satisfy himself by just spending time with you in class every so often, or waving hello to you in the halls. It wasn't until his last year of high school when he thought he was over you that he realised he was dead wrong. Being assigned the same home room and having to see each other at least once a day minimum made his heart skip a beat every morning, nervously checking his appearance to see if he could get your attention.

Yes, he feels a little desperate, no, he's not mad about it.

"So, did you apply for early admission?"

You look up and see Kaeya, looking behind him to see if any of his friends are behind him. You assume he's just killing some time, scooching over to let him sit down next to you until you're forced to stay in homeroom for once.

"Yeah, I did. You?"

He sighs a little, blowing his fringe out of his face.

"Yeah. I got accepted."

You raise a brow, looking at him a little impressed. Kaeya's been a good student as far as you knew, so you're not surprised but considering that applications just opened for University two weeks ago you can't help but be taken aback.

"Wow. I'm pretty nervous. Did you get a safety school too?"

"Nervous? You'll be fine - everyone gets in, and you do well in class," he reassures, resting his head on the desk.

"And I did. I'm just waiting for the safety schools to respond just in case I change my mind."

Kaeya knew that with graduation creeping up on everyone he was running out of time to try and confess. He's been trying to get the gall to do it, building himself up every morning but failing miserably whenever he sees you.

"Yeah. I'm planning to just go to school locally like everyone else does. Not exactly rich enough to go abroad. Or smart enough," you laugh, fiddling with a pen.

"I want to go there too!" he says a little too excitedly, clearing his throat as an attempt to cover up.

"Diluc, my older brother, goes there too and I think it'd be nice to stay local. Maybe we'll see each other?"

"Hopefully! The transit will be a bitch though, right?"

Kaeya sees this as his chance, speaking before his mind can catch up.

"I can drive you! We have to make our own schedules so if ours align then we can carpool. I won't make you pay gas or anything, just in company." He winks at you, hoping that his charm is coming out, not nerves.

"Sure, if you want. That'd be nice - only if it works out for both of us, alright?"

He nods in response, trying not to bounce his knee too aggressively at how excited he is at the prospect.

Fast forward some years later and the two of you are deeply embroiled in your studies. You got accepted where you wanted to be, and Kaeya ended up deciding to stick with his first choice at the local school. To his delight, he was able to strike up a stronger relationship with you, now both friends rather than classmates.

He drives you to class or makes you drive his car the mornings he's too tired to. You meet on campus between breaks, have lunch together, or crash each other's classes on occasion when someone's bored. It's everything he could have asked for but that doesn't stop that yearning he thought would go away.

He's tried other people, wanting to see if he could get over you without a rejection but it seems like he can't, mumbling lightly to himself as he waits outside the building you're in to pick you up.

He needs an answer today, even if it's no. Just something to finally shut up the voice in his head saying it might be a yes and to just finally shoot his shot after all these years. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, eyes watching as people flood out of the building for your familiar form.

"I always have so much fun with you," you say after catching your breath from a stupid joke Kaeya made, leaning back in your reclined seat as you look out his car window and out to the trail.

"I'm not wrong though," he says, still laughing a bit. "Why are we parked outside of a park when we could just go walk around!"

"It's nice to just be like this, don't you think?"

You sigh a little, yawning and closing your eyes as you take in the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. The sun is beginning to set, washing you both in reds and pinks and he takes the opportunity to admire you.

He knows that if he doesn't act soon he could lose you forever. Your journeys at school are beginning to close, giving him less of a chance to guarantee time with you. His heart thuds loudly in his chest, desperate for the chance to finally make his feelings known.

He opens his mouth, not expecting the weak little noise that comes out. You turn to face him, holding back a teasing laugh to give him your full attention. He tries again, finally finding the words.

"I'm in love with you. I have been since the day we met and I just want you to give me a chance. Can you do that? Please?"

He hates how desperate he sounds, playing with the edge of his sleeves and averting your gaze to avoid looking at you. He has no idea if you'll say yes or no, slowly raising his eyes back to yours when he feels you put your hand on his.

"I thought you'd never ask."

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #kaeya fluff

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feiandart · 14 days

Text

Posting 'em here again just to boost a bit my motivation today. I made 'em back in december, one of the first drawing I have ever made for myself only.

Will talk 'bout myself and my past from here, can skip it if you don't want my oversharing shit.

So. I used to work as a commission artist for years (5-6 if I'm not wrong), drew bit of anything you could think of and mainly sticked to NSFW art for most of my, uh, let me call that "carreer" even if it's probably the wrong term to use for it. Well, it paid my bills and rent for years, so we may stick to it anyway.

Thing is, I stopped drawing when I was eighteen. People, family first, always told me talent in art was all, practice would never have made it better and I should have kept it as a hobby rather than something to do as a job. Apart from my closest friends, no one encouraged me to practice and study and put real effort on it. I went to an art-based highschool (only because I couldn't focus on studying any subject, and art school is considered one in which you don't actually study at all here, so my parents thought it better to put me there as I wanted "so you can still graduate"), but I couldn't go ahead with art studies in professional comic schools, academies or any artistic department in university. No support on that front. Something like "be Caravaggio or be nobody" mindset was stuck into my head and I started actually believing that it was true. And since I was, and am not, Caravaggio, then what was the point? So I dropped the pencil and just forgot how to draw a fuckin' line for literal years.

Then I turned 22. I moved to another city for my studies. After completing 'em, my parents said me to come back home and I said no. They stopped paying anything for me since that moment, so I had to make things works on my own. Hopefully my rent was really low, so I could afford it with minimum effort, but had to buy groceries with coupons (not a common thing in Italy) and eat a lot less to make 'em last as much as possible. I found a job in a call-center, I cleaned houses and handed flyiers to people. And that's when I found out I cannot really be in social context for too long.

In the end I burned out, left all jobs and was stuck in bed for a month. I was barely 24, without a job, holding tight the little bit of freedom I ever got. I felt helpless and hopeless. I don't remember if my bestfriend or my housemate, but one of 'em said me to come back at drawing and givin' it a shot. What harm could that do afterall, could have been pocket money for a bit if it couldn't stick to something better.

I started from pencil. Then went to digital in a couple months. I practiced, started quite immediately taking commissions and honest to God I don't have the slightest clue of how someone whould spend money on some shit I drew without basic anathomy knowledge and after that much time without drawing. Still have no idea. So I drew. I made some quick animations, never did much there thought. Grew a little fanbase, went on with it for years. I even moved with my bestfriend, living with her alone for two years, got a cat I love that it's my actually support companion right now.

I felt happy for a bit, I believe. Imposter syndrome is always watching me afterall, that never stopped. It's just like there's another person in the room with me all day, whispering me I should do more 'cause I don't deserve any attention. Ugh.

However. I went on with that until 2023. I had to come back to my parent's house in 2022 and got stuck in here since then. Nightmare years. Still a nightmare period, but I'm managing. Thing is, past year I burned out so much I completed all my left commissions in a rush and actually dropped my tablet for months. I used it as a third screen, took away the pen and the glove and swore I would never ever be back at drawing again. Will not go into details of what triggered that burnout, but you got the point, I didn't want to draw again in my life at that time.

This is pretty much when Good Omens entered the room. It was late September, I saw a lot of videos on tiktok and since I watched S1 years ago, I decided to give it a shot to S2 too. It was an istant hyperfocus. Watched all over for weeks, both in italian, in english, in english with italian subs and english with english subs. Never done anything like that in my life before. By the end of October I came back at writing. So I started to arrange things for Up&Down, my first fic after uhm, like 15 years or so. And it felt so good! I went through 42 days of deep writing, posting a chapter a day just for myself. 'cause I wanted to write something I liked for the sole purpose of liking it. And it felt so liberating!

Then I thought: will this apply to drawing too, maybe?

Answer is YES. It did. I was inspired from the fandom, from MrGhostRat's art and Gleafer's, and started drawing again. I dug into english fanfictions, fandom artists I love, and the list just gets longer day by day. I started writing Sugar, and with it I started drawing illustrations for it.

I went from the image to the left to the one to the right in two months. Guys, I'll repeat it: TWO MONTHS. I never had such a quick improvement in years, practicing every fuckin' day, drawing my hands out of my bloody body. I drew for 5-6 years and never got to improve this much. I did now. And you know why?

'cause I started drawing for myself. I'm doing something I love. And I'm getting better at it.

And you know what? I'm quite angry now. 'cause if I didn't stop years ago, who knows where I could have been now. If I didn't listen to people saying me "be Caravaggio or be nobody", I could have done so much more by now. Maybe I could have been able to draw fuckin' furnitures by now. Maybe I would have started being able to draw the same face two times in a row years ago insted of now.

Maybe I could have been the comic artist I wanted to be. Maybe not the best in the world, but I don't fuckin' care of being the best one, I want to be one I'm proud of. I didn't get the chance 'cause out there is full of people without a dream who's only purpose in life is destroying other people hopes.

And you know what? I'm done with that. I'm done with people saying me I'm not a gifted child. I'm done with people coming at me saying I cannot do shit I love 'cause they have reason to make me do something different. People thinks to know what's good for me but I'm fuckin' 30 and I think I know it pretty well already, thank you very much.

I'm managing how to get hold of my choices and things I love now that I'm an adult, but dear Lord I keep on thinking of my young self and I want to hug that poor thing so much I can't explain. I'd love to say her everything's going to be hard, but good in some way. That things are difficult, but they will change. That people are shit, but she should be strong and fight back. 'cause I did it too late and I regret now, but she deserved better.

You deserves better. And I'm talking to anyone who's reading this. I don't know if you went all the way 'til here, but if you did: don't make my same mistakes. You know better than me. Don't let people spoil the things you love, don't give 'em power to destroy your will and put you in a closet for the time being. You don't deserve that.

Don't miss your chance 'cause people doesn't want to see you happy to be yourself. Don't do that. They don't deserve that power over you.

Love yourself more than I loved myself. I'm starting just now and it's hell. You can do better, I promise.

#good omens art #good omens #sugar #up&down #deep down fei's heart #overthinking #personal shit #motivation #motivating myself #get motivated

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blueberryshelves · 2 months

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_______________________________________________

Book Review

Title: The Ivies Author: Alexa Donne

Series: stand-alone

No. of Pages: 336

ISBN: 9780593303733 (paperback) 9780593303702 (hardcover) 9780593303726 (ebook)

Synopsis:

Enroll in this boarding school thriller about a group of prep school elites who would kill to get into the college of their dreams...literally."

The Plastics meet the Heathers in this murder mystery about ruthless Ivy League ambition." -Kirkus Reviews Everyone knows the Ivies: the most coveted universities in the United States. Far more important are the Ivies. The Ivies at Claflin Academy, that is. Five girls with the same mission: to get into the Ivy League by any means necessary. I would know. I'm one of them. We disrupt class ranks, club leaderships, and academic competitions...among other things. We improve our own odds by decreasing the fortunes of others. Because hyper-elite competitive college admissions is serious business. And in some cases, it's deadly. Alexa Donne delivers a nail-biting and timely thriller about teens who will stop at nothing to get into the college of their dreams. Too bad no one told them murder isn't an extracurricular.

_______________________________________________

What did I think of the book?

The Ivies by Alexa Donne My rating: ⭐ 1 of 5 stars (1.5 really) *Disclaimer: Spoilers.* So far, my experience with author youtubers who give advice on writing hasn't been great. The advice is usually solid, and in Alexa Donne's case, I found many of her videos really helpful for figuring out what was wrong with my own writing practices. However, I'm starting to realize why best selling authors with strong prose, plot, and characters, tend to NOT be youtubers. Author youtubers seem to excel at teaching, and giving information, but their actual writing doesn't tend to reflect their apparent knowledge (speaking from my own experiences). So, here lands The Ivies. This is the first of Alex Donne's work that I've read, and I'm totally confused. Despite the fact that the book had me finishing it in two days, rapidly going through page after page on the edge of my seat with it's insane rabbit hole; it left me feeling that the story just wasn't finished. I don't mean "finished" as in, there needs to be a second book; I mean, in the end, no one really solved anything, and there was no closure on the murder. No one changed or grew or improved, if anything, the characters just became even more unhinged as the book went on until it lead to a deflating reveal of the actual killer with a horrifically ridiculous motive. The story was drowned in red herrings and misleads to the point of suffocating the fun out of the book. They were so frequent, and so many that it became downright frustrating and exhausting to read. There were more loose ends that were never tied up than a torn knitted jumper. The "false" reveal was a lot more tense and interesting to read, and the book honestly could have cut out the entirety of act 3 for me, and skipped to the end. The pacing was good in the first half of the book, but suffered in the second half, and dragged on. By the end, I began to suspect Olivia, the MC. Maybe this wasn't the intention, but her choices at the end of the book made me seriously consider if I just got mind-fucked by what she was narrating to herself for the entire story, and she really was the killer all along. Might explain why she never got anywhere in her "investigation" or withholding information from authority for her so-called friends, and we're just being lied to as the readers (she did, after all, have access to everything apparently). While the writing style was easy to get into, it had one issue: Too. Much. Telling. (and swearing…). At the end of almost every chapter, whatever big revelation occurred in the chapter is just told to you in black and white, rather than letting you ride the wave of the realization in your own head. Much of the natural tension of having the realizations on my own as the reader were completely lost, and ruined every tension bubble attempted to be created. It worked great for the end of the first chapter, but it just didn't for the rest. The same can be said for all the schemes the Ivies apparently did. We're just told they happened, but we never get to see these girls actually in action from their PoV. Favorite character/s: Well, not many of the characters are "likeable". It's almost laughable how unlikeable the characters are to the point of 'okay, I kind of hate you all, but I want to know how far the rabbit hole goes, so…'. What drew me to the book? I wanted a thriller to study that wouldn't give me nightmares, and finally check out Alexa Donne's work. Stars: 1.5/5, pretty interesting concept, but too many problems with the execution of it. View all my reviews

#book review #the ivies #alexa donne #murder mystery #college admissions #lies and backstabbing #thriller #fiction #booklr #bookblr #book blog #books #bookish #bookworm #books and reading #book photography

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schrijverr · 9 months

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I Found Myself a Cheerleader 4

Chapter 4 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Chrissy and Steve have a sleepover. During it, they open up about shitty parents, unhealthy habits around food and Steve has a nightmare. It makes them even closer as the year progresses. Meanwhile, Billy is getting more and more frustrated until he snaps and attacks Steve, who is saved by an unlikely hero.

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie and buckingham

Warnings: eating disorder, child abuse mention, period typical homophobia, nightmare, vomiting, bullying, f-slur, fighting

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4: The Sleepover

Ever since that Saturday, Chrissy has discovered how easily she can get out of the house and over to Steve’s under the guise of meeting up with people from cheer squad. So, their time together has increased significantly.

Steve is pretty sure Chrissy is his best friend right now.

Of course, they still mostly see each other at school, having practice each day. However, now Steve will drive her home after and they’ll stop by a park and talk for a little bit. And it’s not until two weeks later that Chrissy says: “We could have a sleep over. My mom will be going with my dad to this work party and she said she’d feel better if I’m not alone.”

In all honesty, Steve is kind of blown away that he is her first pick. He has never been anyone’s first pick without performing King Steve. He smiles at her and says: “Course, sounds fun.”

The bit of insecurity that lingered over Chrissy disappears as her face brightens. “Cool, then I’ll see you Saturday,” she says, before skipping over to the changing room.

Chrissy arrives on Saturday quite late, but grinning mischievously as he opens the door. “I stalled, so my mom wouldn’t wait to see, who opened the door. She thinks you’re a very nice christian girl, Stevie.”

“You’re a menace, Chris,” Steve shakes his head as he lets her in. He is excited to have a fun evening with his friend, but also unsure of how the night will go. He is also planning to bring up the food thing, though he doesn’t know how that will go.

She throws her bag in the hall and toes of her shoes. Then she dives into her bag as she says: “I have a copy of the Breakfast Club and you’re not allowed to protest.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve tells her with a fond grin, not having planned on protesting.

It says a lot about how close they’ve gotten that Chrissy moves through his house easily without having been there often. She rummages through all his cabinets in search for a glass and he watches her with amusement from the kitchen threshold.

However, the Harrington kitchen is quite big and they have a lot of cabinets with all sorts of tableware. So after watching her struggle for a bit Steve says: “You can also just ask, you know that, right, Chris?”

Chrissy pouts at him and says: “It’s not my fault that your house in confusing. Where do you keep glasses? I want some water.”

Steve opens a cabinet she hadn’t gotten to yet and fills it up with water, before handing it to her with a flourish: “My lady.”

“Thank you,” she grins, then moves to the living room where she attempts to figure out the TV system the Harringtons have.

Meanwhile Steve gets himself a glass of coke and goes to sit on the couch. He watches as Chrissy continues to press buttons until she figures it out, heart swelling with fondness. It’s nice to have a friend again, he hasn’t had a sleepover in ages.

The last time he watched a movie with someone like this was back when he was still trying to be King Steve. For a second he worries that she thinks this is a date, which he wouldn’t go for even if he were straight, because she is fifteen to his seventeen.

Right when he wonders that, she turns around and huffs: “Your TV is fucking stupid, Stevie. It is evil, I tell you.”

She is in a ratty shirt and her hair is up in an ugly bun. The way she’s complaining reads more like an annoying little sibling than anything else and he’s been on enough dates to know that her behavior isn’t very date-like.

He lets out a relieved breath, before smirking as he gets up, easily starting up the movie as Chrissy rolls her eyes and tells him he’s annoying.

However, she doesn’t complain further and crawls onto the couch, making herself comfortable as Steve starts up the movie and sits down next to her. When he does she flops over him. The move makes Steve smile and he relishes in the friendly contact.

By the time the end credits roll, they’re two vegetables on the couch. Steve is sure they can find something else to watch, but first: “What’s your preferred pizza topping?”

“What?” Chrissy asks, looking up from where she made herself at home in his lap.

“I’m gonna order pizza, what do you want?” Steve clarifies.

“Oh, uhm,” Chrissy says, looking wrong footed. “Not a big pizza fan,” she settles on after a moment.

“Chris,” Steve starts, unsure where to go from now, but knowing he has to say something. “You- you need to eat something. What you’re doing isn’t healthy.”

She straightens up, getting out of his lap as she practically shrinks into the other side of the couch. It rubs Steve wrong, the way she makes herself smaller. She tucks her hair behind her ear and says: “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t do this, Chris,” Steve says, brows pulling together, a lump in his throat.

“Let it go, Steve,” Chrissy shoots back and the use of his name hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

Still, he doesn’t let it affect him. He steels himself and shakes his head. “No. Just no. I’m not letting it go. You barely eat during lunch, you always refuse snacks. Fuck, you’re skin and bones, Chrissy. It shouldn’t be so easy to toss you in the air.”

“You don’t understand,” Chrissy is yelling now.

“Then make me understand,” Steve yells back. “Just fucking talk to me. Explain. Please.”

They’re both breathing heavily after their outbursts, just staring at each other. Neither of them are willing to break the look first, to give in. So, they stand there and wait to see who breaks first. Who will blink. Who will give in.

In the end Chrissy looks away first, her eyes boring holes into the ground as she hunches her shoulders. Quietly she says: “You don’t know what it’s like to live with her.”

“Who?” Steve asks softly, sitting down next to her gently, not yet touching. He doesn’t want her to stop talking.

“My mom,” Chrissy whispers. “She’s always on my case about what I’m eating. It’s suffocating. I’m not even allowed in the kitchen alone. And she’ll- she’ll like hem my clothes continuously, so they’re always too tight and it- it drives me wild. You can’t understand how that feels.”

“I do, though,” Steve tells her. “I get it. It fucking sucks, but you don’t have to listen to her. She’s being an asshole. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be healthy.”

“How the fuck can you know?” Chrissy snaps, her tone venomous. “Look at you. You’re doing perfectly fine. You’re not always getting yelled at, how the fuck can you know?”

“Chrissy, I’m literally being protected by the cheer team, because shit got so bad,” Steve frowns at her harsh words, his own slipping out. “My life also isn’t sunshine and rainbows.”

“Well, it’s not the same,” Chrissy tells him. “Your mother isn’t always breathing down your neck about every calorie. You can do whatever you want.”

The words hit a sore spot and Steve can’t stop the bitter laugh he lets out, something ugly twisting in his chest. “Yeah, I can do whatever I want,” he spits bitterly.

“Stevie?” Chrissy asks, his tone tipping her off that something changed.

“Seriously, Chris?” he says instead of answering her. “You think my parents fucking love me? They have been gone since January. January. I have been by myself for months. They don’t care. They’re off prancing through Europe or some shit, happy to forget me. All I’m good for here is playing their perfect fucking son. And I can’t even do that right.”

He gets off the couch, tears burning in his eyes as he starts pacing: “I’m a screw up. I had to quit basketball and if they ever find out that I did, I’m sure my father will kill me. Literally. He already thinks I’m pathetic. He gave up on me years ago. I am always by myself, having to keep up this charade to make them happy and it’s never enough.”

Steve turns to Chrissy, looking at her with imploring eyes as she sits on the couch without moving a muscle, waiting for the storm to be over.

“I know what a controlling mother is,” he tells her. “They’re never here, but when they are… Fuck, it’s like I can’t do anything right. The way I move is wrong, what I eat, how I eat- shit, some days I feel like I can’t even breathe right.”

“Stevie, I-” Chrissy starts.

“No,” he cuts her off. “I don’t want you to pity me, Chris. That’s not the point of this. I- I’m messing it all up. The point is that I get it. Parents suck. They’re the worst on the fucking planet and we’d be better of without them. I get it. But you can’t let them take everything from you. You deserve better than this, don’t you get it?”

He runs a hand through his hair and pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he turns around, waving his arms as he continues his speech. The words that have been built up inside him for so long finally pouring out.

“My parents would hate everything I do, if they ever found out, but that isn’t going to stop me. I like cheerleading. I like having friends. I like it. I don’t care what they think, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m not going to let them force me to give up what I like. Because I fucking deserve better, okay? And so do you.”

Steve turns back to Chrissy, who is still on the couch, looking quite gobsmacked. He is about to ask what she’s thinking when she burst out into tears.

Panic rises in his chest as he rushes to her side, slinging an arm over her shoulder as he holds her gently. Softly he says: “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay. Please, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Chrissy hiccups, wiping his face with the sleeve of her shirt.

“No need to be sorry,” Steve tells her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m so sorry, Chris.”

“It’s okay, idiot,” Chrissy says, bumping her shoulder against him. “I needed that. You’re right. And I am sorry about what I said about you being able to do what you want. Your parents sound like they suck.”

“They do,” Steve snorts. “For what it’s worth, it sounds like your mom sucks too.”

“She does,” Chrissy laughs. It’s still a bit wet sounding, but it’s better than the crying from earlier, so Steve takes the win.

Both of them fall quiet for a second, sitting on the couch in the living room, the credits of the Breakfast Club still rolling in the background.

“How did you do it?” Chrissy asks after a few seconds, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“Do what?”

“Stop caring.”

Steve is quiet as he thinks, then he slowly says: “It’s hard. I mean, I still care, but I try not to. It just takes time and effort. I have to remind myself constantly. And it’s easier to not care when they’re not here. But then they’ll call and I lie and pretend cheer practice is basketball practice and I pray that no one here reached out to them. They’ll tell me they’ll be away for a bit longer and it’s a relief, because I still care what they think and when they come back I’ll know.”

“So it all just sucks?” Chrissy asks.

“Yeah, kinda,” Steve laughs. “But you gotta keep trying anyway. Just start one day and try not to stop.”

“I can do that,” Chrissy says, determination bleeding into her posture.

“Hell yeah you can,” Steve agrees proudly. “So, pizza toppings?”

The question makes Chrissy laugh, before she admits: “I like pepperoni, but I- I can’t eat an entire pizza, Stevie.”

“We’ll share,” Steve offers with a smile. “I like pepperoni too.”

“Sounds good.”

Steve gets up and orders the pizza. He is glad it is finally out in the open. That Chrissy hasn’t shut him out or is mad at him. He hates it when his friends are mad at him.

Chrissy looks reluctant when the pizza arrives, but Steve doesn’t push. Some steps have to be made by yourself. Indeed determination swoops over her as she takes her first bite. Her eyes grow wide and she lets out a happy hum as she chews.

“Good?” Steve smiles.

“This is delicious,” Chrissy says, mouth still full.

Steve’s smile widens. “Good to hear.”

He puts on another movie that neither of them pay attention too. Chrissy only manages to eat three slices, but Steve is so proud of her. Making her blush as he tells her so.

With the pizza gone, the movie goes further ignored. Both of them end up lying on the floor, looking up at the popcorn ceiling. They’re talking about school, complaining about classes and homework, teachers that suck, weird stuff classmates did and mishaps from practice. Steve also talks a little about the kids.

When there’s a lull in conversation Chrissy suddenly asks: “Are you okay? No one bothering you at school or something?”

“What?” Steve asks, still not really used to someone looking out for him, especially someone like Chrissy, who is both younger than him and a girl.

“I don’t know, you’ve just been more fidgety the past week,” Chrissy says. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Steve feels himself flushing. The reason he’s been more fidgety is because he’s been trying to avoid Eddie. He has come up to Steve once since their conversation. Steve was nice, but ended the conversation and tried not to look in Eddie’s way after. Something he has been less successful at than he’d want.

He just can’t help it, though. Eddie is magnetic and his eyes are naturally drawn to him. Steve likes watching his dramatic gestures and hypnotizing eyes.

However, Steve only wants to make it through this year unscathed. That means getting an even bigger crush on Eddie Munson is out of the question. Hell, associating with the other boy is out of the question. Especially now that it seems like Eddie wants something from him. Steve has enough trouble as it is.

Though, when he thinks about it, Eddie hasn’t approached since that first time when Steve kind of iced him out.

Of course, Steve has ensured that he is continuously surrounded by cheerleaders, a part of the student body Eddie avoids almost as religiously as the basketball team. So, it’s not like he has given Eddie the chance. Which is good. That was the point.

Still, Steve can admit he’s a bit disappointed at how easily he has shaken the boy. And the only reason he’s still fidgety is because he’s become quite paranoid after the Upside Down, so the few times he has caught Eddie’s eyes afterwards are enough to put him slightly on edge.

Not that he can tell Chrissy any of this. He wants to kid himself into believing she’d be cool with the whole gay thing, but he isn’t going to delude himself like that. Chrissy’s entire family is highly religious. The chances she’d be cool are very low.

So instead he says: “I’m okay. Nothing happened.”

“You sure?” Chrissy pushes.

“Sure,” he tells her with a smile.

“Alright,” Chrissy lets it go, much to his relief.

They stay up way too late, like you’re supposed to at a sleepover. Chrissy teaches Steve how to braid hair and Steve confides in her about the Farrah Fawcett spray, after which he swears her to secrecy. It’s fun and they’re still giggling as they brush their teeth,

Steve sets Chrissy up in a guest room near his, telling her where the bathroom is before leaving her there.

He knows they could share his bed, but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable or make it seem like he’s pulling a move. He also doesn’t want to scare her in case he has a nightmare. They can get pretty bad, but it has been a while since he woke up screaming. He hopes his luck will hold through the night and he won’t wake Chrissy if he does have a nightmare.

Of course luck has never been in his favor and a few hours later he finds himself flying out of his bed, feeling disoriented.

A door opens behind him and he swirls around, his arms up in a fighting position as he tries to blink the world into focus. Sweat is cooling on his back, breath still catching in his lungs, as images of the demodogs surrounding him still flash in his mind’s eye.

“Stevie?” a voice asks him. One that doesn’t fit into the nightmare he had just woken up from.

Chrissy, his mind supplies.

Another blink and indeed there stands Chrissy in her pajamas, hand still clutching the door knob as she worries a lip between her teeth. She looks a bit scared, like she wants to reach out to him, but is afraid of the probably too intense look in his eyes and his fighting stance.

The anxiety slowly seeps away as a wave of nausea rolls through his body. He swallow thickly, before rushing to the en-suite bathroom, flicking on the light, before dropping to his knees and throwing up in the bowl.

There are footsteps behind him, then a small figure appears beside him. An equally small hand starts rubbing his back as he gags a few more times.

When no more puke comes out, Steve leans back against the wall. His head is bowed between his knees and he feels unable to face Chrissy. God, he feels fucking pathetic.

He feels Chrissy’s warmth against his side as she sits next to him. Both of them are quiet for a few seconds, then Chrissy asks: “You okay, Stevie?”

“Not really,” Steve confesses softly, not finding the energy to lie or come up with a reason.

“I’m sorry,” Chrissy says.

That gets Steve’s attention. He looks up at her in confusion. She looks earnest about it too and he doesn’t get it. “What are you sorry for?”

“After that day when Lisa forced you to eat, I- I should have guessed you weren’t fully okay either, especially not after that speech tonight,” she explains. “But I never asked. So, I’m sorry.”

Steve is overcome with incredible fondness for the girl next to him, who somehow cares about him in a way no one has.

“It’s okay, Chris,” he tells her, gently bumping against her. “I wouldn’t have told you if you asked anyway.”

“Why not?” Chrissy asks with an unhappy frown.

“Because it’s embarrassing,” Steve answers bluntly. “I mean, come on. I am nearly eighteen and I get nightmares that make me puke. That’s not exactly information I want out there.” He’s quiet for a second, then he softly adds: “I don’t like talking about it.”

Chrissy is silent as she thinks. Her face has lost the frown and she gives him a sympathetic smile as she says: “You don’t have to. But I’m glad I know. We’re here for each other, right?”

“Yeah, course,” Steve assures her, though mentally he thinks he is more there for her than vise versa. He is older, he’s already a protector. He’ll look out for her, to make sure nothing will get her. She doesn’t know half of what’s out there.

“And for the record,” Chrissy states, “I don’t think it’s embarrassing. Nightmares are the worst and you’re brave for going through them.”

He appreciates the sentiment so much and he knows that if he tries to say anything he voice might crack or tears may start to fall. So instead he throws an arm around her and pulls her close. The two of them just sitting on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

They sit there for another fifteen minutes, before Chrissy asks: “Wanna go to bed again?”

“No, I’m probably gonna go downstairs, maybe do some homework or something,” Steve tells her honestly. “But you can go back to sleep again. I don’t want to keep you up.”

“I’m not going to let you wallow alone, you idiot,” she says, sounding offended that he would even think that. “Lets play a card game or something.”

“Chris…” Steve protests, but Chrissy doesn’t listen to him. Instead she gets up and pulls him along to his bed, plucking the deck of cards from where they lay forgotten on his desk.

Steve decides to just give in and let her do her thing. They argue a little about the rules, but in the end it doesn’t matter much. They play about two rounds, before exhaustion sets in again. Steve can’t remember which one of them falls asleep first.

After that night Chrissy and Steve are as thick as thieves, practically inseparable, both in school and after it.

Lisa is quite done with how they seem to make a game out of annoying the other, or how they’ll compete about stupid little stuff. But she tags along whenever she can, making sure Chrissy and Steve don’t accidentally kill each other by stunting without a back spotter.

Steve has also made it a habit to bring extra lunch to school, since Chrissy’s mom refuses to give her more food to bring. It isn’t perfect yet, but it’s comforting to see her eat during lunch period and there is a sense of pride that comes whenever she thanks him for it. Like he’s taking care of her, doing something right for once.

Chrissy meanwhile asks him every day if he slept okay, noting when the bags under his eyes get darker when he’s going through a rough patch.

She helps him hide most of it with some makeup that she brings to school and convinces her mom to let her sleep over that weekend. It’s nice to not wake up alone for a change.

In their months of friendship, Steve has never met Chrissy’s parents, not that Chrissy has met his either.

Quite honestly, he truly doesn’t want to either. Whenever Chrissy talks about her mother especially, he is reminded of his own parents, who still haven’t returned home. He doesn’t know what it says about him that he hopes they’ll stay away until he can go to college.

Still, he is quite well known by Chrissy’s mother, who is delighted that Chrissy has befriended a good christian girl named Stevie. Chrissy delights in telling him about their fictional adventures that she spun to her mother. It’s kind of funny, Steve has to admit.

In reality most of their afternoons are spend in cheer practice. Competitions are coming up again, so they’re perfecting their new routine. Molly is convinced they’ll win this time and her laser focus and enthusiasm is infectious.

Not all is perfect of course. He often has to clean his locker when it is vandalized again and he is tripped up whenever possible, not to mention all the insults that are slung in his face.

On top of that, he hasn’t had a single acceptance letter in the mail yet, which isn’t great for his anxiety and the only reason he thinks he even has a shot at graduating is because Sofia graciously offers her time to him. He has taken to buying her lunch as a thank you.

Outside of school he still drives the twerps around as well. They mostly want to go to the arcade, but he has also brought them to Hopper’s cabin a few times or picked them up the Wheeler’s house after DnD.

One weekend he even drove Max to a skating rink a few towns over and watched as she performed all sort of dizzying stunts on her board.

Dustin is still his main little guy and he will show up whenever he pleases and brighten Steve’s day, a fact he will never let him know. However, Max and Will are both quickly making it up there as well.

He and Will never talk about that connection in the kitchen, about what they share. Neither of them is willing to acknowledge it, but sometimes they share a look when something happens and that is enough for now.

Steve has for example figured out that Will has a crush on Mike, which he thinks is stupid. Sure, the kid is Will’s best friend, but he’s also a bit of an asshole. Granted that can also just be because he is thirteen years old and everyone is an asshole at thirteen, but Steve stands by it.

So, whenever he thinks Mike does something idiotic, he’ll look at Will with judge-y eyes and Will will pull a face as if to say that he knows, but that he can’t help it and there are good parts to Mike as well.

It’s fun.

He knows that Max doesn’t have it easy at home. He sees Billy on a warpath nearly every day in the halls of Hawkins High. He hasn’t gotten a date with a cheerleader in months now and Steve is just waiting for the day he’s going to snap.

So, Steve tries to get her out of the house and doing something fun as often as he can. They never acknowledge it, but he’s trying to be a better brother than Billy is. So far, he thinks he’s pretty successful all things considered.

His efforts aren’t as appreciated by Billy, who doesn’t show any interest in his step sister beyond tormenting her, yet will glare at Steve whenever they see each other out in public. Still, he hasn’t done too much since their encounter last November.

However, not all good things are meant to last and it comes to a boiling point in the week before spring break.

Steve is sitting in the cafeteria talking to Chrissy and Lisa when his eyes are drawn to some movement. He looks up to see Molly walking away with a huff and a little bit of a thunder cloud over her head.

He looks to see what got that reaction and sees Billy leaning against the wall with an annoyed look on his face. If Steve has to guess he’d been leaning over Molly moments before in an attempt to ask her out. Something that seems like it wasn’t a success.

Tommy is coming up to Billy, likely trying to placate his anger. He’s been Billy’s little lapdog since the fall and it still hurts a bit to see his old friend now hang around his primary bully.

Right as Tommy is doing that, Billy looks up and happens to meet Steve’s eyes. Billy’s eyes immediately narrow, probably thinking that Steve is getting some amusement out of his misfortune or something. So to try and negate the damage, Steve quickly looks away, but it is too late.

Billy straightens up and shrugs of Tommy’s hand as he starts to march towards Steve. His face looks like murder. It looks like that day at the Byers house. It looks like Steve is in deep shit.

Without being conscious of it, Steve gets to his feet. If he is going to be attacked, he’s not letting himself be trapped at the table of a cafeteria, ready like an animal for slaughter. Steve might have made it a habit to get beaten up, but at least he’ll do down swinging.

None of the girls have noticed the danger yet, so when he gets up Lisa asks: “Steve?” in a confused voice.

Before he gets the chance to explain, Billy is already on him. He has grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and this time he won’t be able to wiggle out of it that easily. “You,” Billy seethes.

“What about me?” Steve shoots back, trying to look unaffected as he searches for a way to get out of this, or fight back.

“You fucking fag,” Billy rages. “You and your little pathetic protection squad. Can’t look even after yourself. Need the cheerleaders to do it.”

“Come on, man, no need to be jealous,” Steve smirks, oozing King Steve charisma. “Not my problem you suck at getting the ladies to like you.”

He knows it isn’t the smartest idea to poke the bear, so to speak. However, he hopes that he can keep some of his dignity throughout this ordeal, to not just fold like a straw. And he might as well take Billy down a peg if he is going to get his ass beat.

Billy doesn’t reply to his taunt, instead tightening his fists as he readies himself to punch.

“What?” Steve continues now that he has found a sore spot. “Nothing to say, Hargrove? You can’t get a date? So what. You’re going to beat me up over it? Like you tried to fight that twelve year old you didn’t like?”

They’ve gathered quite the audience now and Steve decides to fuck it. Billy is making his life miserable, he can choke on his own actions.

“Yeah, I remember that,” he says, projecting his voice so everyone can hear. “Real mature move that was. You might have beat my face in, but won’t change that your first target was a little kid, you pussy.”

Over Billy’s shoulder he can see Tommy looking conflicted, his eyes flicking between Billy and Steve, as if he’s unsure if he should step. Steve can’t care less. Tommy is an asshole and he hates him.

Meanwhile Billy is apparently pushed to the brink of insults he’ll take. He lets out a roar – Steve can’t describe it as anything else – and throws a punch. A hard one.

Steve recoils from the force and hopes he doesn’t get a concussion out of his. He vividly remembers the doctor’s visit after his last fight with Billy. He can’t go through that again, literally. He physically can’t. Well, he could, but it has a big chance of ending badly for him. Very badly.

So, he immediately start to struggle to get free, knowing from their last fight that he can’t let himself be pinned down, because Billy will ruthlessly rain down on him and this time, there is no Max to save him

He hunches into himself and starts walking towards Billy, both of them moving back again. But they hit Tommy, who picks Billy, supporting him and pushing until Billy can turn the tide again and start pushing Steve back.

Vaguely Steve is aware that there is screaming around them and that his nose is bleeding. However, he can’t concentrate on the chants and the chaos, as he desperately fumbles in the hope of prying Billy’s fingers loose from his shirt. He’s already asking himself if he can rip the fabric to get out, before Billy can make him loose his footing.

The answer is: he can’t.

Billy hits him again and he barely manages to duck out of the way so that the hit only slides alongside his face, hitting his ear.

Still, the punch is enough of a distraction that Billy manages to push him over, letting go of his shirt so that Steve can’t hold on to his arm to keep himself upright. So he goes down like a sack of flour, hitting the floor with a dull thud that travels up his arms.

He doesn’t allow himself time to reorient himself, already envisioning Billy pinning him down like he did before.

So, he’s already scrambling back when a dark blur fills his vision. For a second he fears that it’s one of Billy’s lackeys, but no pain comes. Instead the form stands over him in an almost protective manner.

Steve blinks a few times, there in front of him is Eddie Munson. He is holding both of Billy’s fists in his hands, holding him back from attacking again. He is smirking and not looking like it’s taking him much effort. However, Steve can see how his neck is straining, muscles likely bulging under his leather jacket.

“You know, the pulling on pigtails thing is so overdone,” Eddie informs him casually. “If you want to sleep with Stevie-boy here, there are better ways to go about it.”

“I’m not some fag,” Billy snarls as he pulls back as if burned. Then he directs his next words at Steve, who is still on the ground behind Eddie. “First girls, now your boyfriend? It’s pathetic how you hide behind others, Harrington.”

“At least I could get a date, if I wanted,” Steve shoots back, not letting Billy have the last word.

Billy moves to jump him again, but is stopped by Tommy. He pushes Tommy out of the way, but doesn’t start shit again and instead he stalks away.

With Billy gone the excitement dies down and people turn to their own things again. Chrissy and Lisa are at Steve’s side checking him over. Chrissy’s brow is pinched as she asks: “Should we get you to a nurse? Your nose is bleeding.”

“Yeah, you don’t look okay,” Lisa adds.

“Wow, thanks. You two really know how to make a man feel special” Steve jokes, attempting a smile even as his face throbs. “No, but I’m fine, really. It’s okay.”

“I think you should get that checked out, pretty boy,” a new voice cuts in.

Eddie has squatted down in front of him and is checking him over as well with those concerned Bambi eyes. That gaze makes Steve aware how messy he looks. Blood is soaking from his nose into his shirt and he is entirely rumpled. He is also still on the floor.

A blush creeps over his face and he tears his eyes away from Eddie as he huffs: “I didn’t need you protecting me. I had it handled.”

“You call that having it handled?” Eddie asks with a raised brow, like he’s having a hard time believing it.

“It’s better than last time,” Steve defends himself. “He smashed a plate over my head then.”

“What!” Chrissy shrieks.

“I was fine,” Steve assures her, already regretting letting that tidbit slip.

“That sounds bad,” Lisa frowns.

“I was fine,” Steve repeats. “I went to a hospital and everything. It’s all okay. Just like I’m okay now.” He glares at Eddie. “I was fine.”

Eddie faces his glare head on with an air of nonchalance that always hangs about him. “I’m sure you are, big boy,” he tells him. “It still won’t hurt to get a tissue for that.” He nods towards Steve’s still bleeding nose.

When Eddie doesn’t respond to his hostility, Steve switches tactics and asks: “Why did you even help me? You’ve only made yourself a target.”

“Nah, man. Not if Billy wants his drugs, I’m not,” Eddie grins. “Besides, whereas the basketball team looks after the popular kids, I look after the lost sheep. You’re one of the outcasts now, Stevie, that means you’re under my jurisdiction.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Steve protests, but he manages a smile. Eddie might want some mysterious thing from him, but he also looks out after his own. He had almost forgotten they shared something now.

“Well,” Eddie stands up again and claps his hands. “That was enough excitement for today, I think. See you around, Steve. Look after yourself.” He nods at Chrissy and Lisa. “My ladies.” Then walks back to his table.

“He is not like I expected him to be,” Chrissy whispers.

“Mean and scary?” Lisa asks.

“Yeah,” Chrissy nods.

“He’s a weird guy,” Steve says, unable to hide a bit of fondness that creeps in. He gets up from the floor and says: “Might be smart to get a tissue.”

“I’ll walk you to the nurse,” Chrissy offers.

“Yeah, and I’ll take your stuff our next class and explain why you’re late,” Lisa adds.

“Thanks,” Steve smiles.

He and Chrissy walk away. As they make their way to the nurse, she comments: “You and Eddie seemed to know each other.”

Steve hesitates for a second, then shrugs: “We talked once. He seems nice, but- I don’t know… We don’t really associate.”

“Alright,” Chrissy luckily seems to let it go. “Glad he was there. I was really scared.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Steve says, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

A/N:

Chrissy and Steve have parent issues, jock solidarity and u can’t change my mind, lmao

Also, disclaimer: I am not in any way, shape or form a good source on how do deal with someone you care about going through an eating disorder. Please do not take fanfic as a helpful source or guide to deal with such issues.

It’s hilarious in a sad way that I am going against the grain by giving Steve a little bit self worth rip

#rr writing #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #chrissy cunningham #billy hargrove #cheerleader steve harrington au #steve harrington & chrissy cunningham #buckingham #tw: eating disorder #tw: child abuse #tw: bullying #tw: f slur #tw: fighting #tw: period typical homophobia #tw: nightmares #tw: vomiting

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twogyuu · 10 months

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Mingyu + Enchanted by Taylor Swift for the song fic game 🥹

Congratulations, OP 🥲

You've managed to send me into a Mingyu spiral for the first time in MONTHS (Vernon who!? Jokes jokes 😅)

Because I'm suffering, I'm gonna make you suffer too: An angsty childhood friends to lovers story, in which Mingyu is the boy next door. He is your best friend since grade school because he shared his cookie with you the second day of class. When your parents found out you befriended one another and lived next door, your friendship was encouraged and you become like those corny neighborhood kiddos who skip to and from school together 😊🤣

Your father owns a restaurant and eventually, when you're teenagers, he hires on Mingyu as an assistant cook in the kitchen because his family, which consists of his mother and grandmother, is in need of some extra cash as money is tight and rent is due!

When you both turn eighteen, Mingyu remains at home to take care of his family and continues working as an assistant cook, while you head off to university. You call/text almost every day, sharing your new adventures with him and him keeping you updated on yours and his family wellbeing at home.

However, as the first year passes by, you both can't help, but feel the ache of missing one another. Phone calls, silly text messages, and the occasional postcard doesn't seem enough. Unfortunately, you both are too hesitant to share this feeling of nostalgia with one another; not because you're afraid of ruining your friendship, but neither of you know how to explain it to one another. The both of you were never the type to speak your mind without finalizing your thoughts and feelings.

Mingyu finally gets some time off and visits you on campus in the spring and this is when your love starts blooming like a blooming flower! 😍🤣 It's one 3-day weekend (starting on Friday), but it changes both of your lives and how you view each other forever. Even though Mingyu doesn't attend your university, he follows you around to your classes and waits for you outside on the bench or the coffee shop across the street 😭 He attends a party with you - and ofc, there's the obligatory "omg is he your boyfriend?" question from all your peers. Unfortunately, Mingyu fucked up his hotel reservations, so you end up sneaking him into the girls' dorm late at night. Thankfully, you had a single room to yourself. You end up squeezed onto the old rickety twin bed - I have a DELUSIONAL scene already brewing for this . . . 😭😦😰

ANYWAYS, the weekend progresses and it's honestly not that exciting - just mundane things such as going to the convenience store to buy pads and some snacks, showing him around campus, but for some reason, it's so dang fun for the both of you and literally the whole student can tell y'all are IN LOVE.

Mingyu returns home and that feeling of missing him (and vice versa) grows. It felt worse than before he visited and you're both so oblivious and confused - until Mingyu's having a conversation with his grandma and she informs him, "you're in love with your best friend, my idiot grandson."

Without a second thought, Mingyu takes a train to your university and it also just so happens to be raining. Man races your dorm all wet just to confess - and hopefully, you feel the same.

Much to his dismay, however, when you open the door, there's another boy behind you: his name is Jun - a senior in your journalism class :')

JOKES JOKES JOKES to the last part omg - I couldn't LOL. There would be a happy ending, where you also confess your feelings. Kiss, kiss, hug, hug!

I'll write a different story for journalism classmate!Jun LMAO

Send me a song + SVT member and I'll give you a plot based on both!

#twogyuu:writing #twogyuu:ask games #mingyu scenarios #oh god this idea definitely is a candidate for some future writing #i love me a good slowburn #thank you for requesting this op!!

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unohanabbygirl · 8 months

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I know this isn’t your style especially considering how happy everyone is in the actual story but No forgiveness!FMN AU! Luke remembers and hates all of the greens and is even betrayed that his own family are ok all these years with the people who are the “direct” reason for Luke not being with them (our boy is traumatised). Maybe like makes them choose or runs away or re-enters the reincarnation machine ( 🤮 😢). Sorry I’ve been reading too much hurt no comfort lately and am curious on how you’d go about it if in an alternate universe that’s where your ideas for FMN went !

I think about this all the time actually lol. With the life he’s endured its pretty much a miracle that Luke still tries his hardest to be a good person as its that not uncommon for the abused to become abusers themselves later on in life.

In a more realistic FMN verse, anger and betrayal would be much more likely considering that the only reasons Luke was born into such horrible circumstances is because of two things #1 being Harwin’s inability to pull out. And #2, that he was murdered by the very man those who claim to love him most have accepted with open arms (never Jace though)

And I’m going to be SO honest here, though Luke has his suicidal ideations from time to time in canon the only reason I chose to not make him actively suicidal by actually making attempts on his own life is because thats a bit too much to handle. Same with physical self harm such as c**ting rather than going down the road of hurting himself with drugs and alcohol. However, I can see that happening in this little au we’re cooking up here.

Once it all comes back to him Luke doesn’t freak out or go off on everyone, but keeps it to himself as he takes a look around the house. Staring at family photos from past holidays and birthdays parties, baby pictures and first day of school photos plastered on the refrigerator doors mixed with those handprint arts in colorful paint from kindergarten. Its a life so full of happiness and love, as if his presence being missing wasn’t even a concern. Replaced with those that were the reason for his past death.

Luke decides to skip out of town and has a few last days of partying. Going back to his old ways just to clear his mind of all the hurt before throwing in the towel. Even in his last moments Luke dosen’t want to be a burden to anyone so he chooses a less messy way to go out. Making sure to leave his note on the dirty motel nightstand. Its messy, sloppily written as he’s half drunk and coming down from a nearly fatal high. But he’s able to get everything out, making sure they know the only reason he’s taken this route is because of their own mistakes. Shoving their happy lives in his face with expectations that he’d actually be happy to be family with the greens after everything they’ve done.

His body isn’t found until weeks later, weeks of the entire Kings Landing police department searching for him. They go over the note but they can’t understand it as it seems to be in a different language. It’s not until they leave the hotel with his body on a gurney and a solemn look does Rhaenyra break down. Unable to function as Daemon is handed the note, ears welling in his eyes as he reads his sons every pained word in their ancestral language.

From then on I could see a few chapters written from everyone’s pov’s as they get a chance to read Luke’s last words and their lives fall to pieces. Its very clear that Luke wanted them to feel his pain and he accomplished his mission.

#asks

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jungkook97 · 2 years

Text

hello girls and gays, just thought to make an entire masterlist of fanfiction works i’ve done so far to organize everything together!

⚠️ disclaimers: most of my fics are going to be mostly jungkook and reader with the occasional ships depending if the story fits! i do not take requests and only dedicate fics to people i love or know well for accuracy. reader’s attributes are not mentioned at all for better immersion & are generally female presenting, however it’s very easy to skip them if you’re not!

💬 shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future works or write me a review. i will not be angry if you do not reblog or engage with my works because honestly i write for fun anyways. also, if you wanna collab on anything, just send me a message and we can plot 😈

here are the writing reviews i’ve gotten so far if you wanna read them before diving in 👇 🏊‍♀️

J U N G K O O K & r e a d e r

ONE SHOTS ˎˊ˗₊‧‎♡

♡ °✧‧₊˚ stuck with u - non-idol with reader, camping trip, oneshot (f2l, smut, slice of life-ish)

jeon jungkook was always over at your damn house growing up every day and known as your little brother’s bestest friend in high school, playing pokemon or some nerdy stuff. you knew he had some stupid lil crush on you for years, but didn’t think much of it. until of course, he sees you again at the fine age of 24 as some hot shot got you thinking differently.

♡ °✧‧₊˚ can’t get over you - canon with hybe staff!reader, oneshot (f2l, slice of life, soulmates, character study)

jungkook lives to love people, and as he would take a break from the chaotic energy of loving, he falls head over heels for someone yet again. are they the actual love of his life this time, or is the universe messing with him?

♡ °✧‧₊˚ why didn’t you wait for me? - non-idol fuckboy & post-college, vacation trip, oneshot (e2l, angst)

you attend a wedding in hawaii with your old high school buddy taehyung for a much needed reunion. little did you realize that the last person you wanted to see would end up attending.

♡ °✧‧₊˚ crush on you - canon with marketing director!reader, drabble (fluff, confessions)

jungkook always had the biggest crush on people who are good at their jobs. y/n always had the biggest crush on the youngest member of bts. y/n wins an award. jungkook is in attendance.

♡ °✧‧₊˚ admit it - canon & fwb with staff!reader, oneshot (smut, possessive as fuck jungkook)

you, taehyung and jungkook go out for the night much to jungkook's dismay. you looked fine as fuck tonight, and jungkook feels a certain type of way about it.

♡ °✧‧₊˚ severed - non-idol jungkook with reader, oneshot (sci-fi, drama)

you and jungkook had a terrible breakup. and so, you two decided to delete each other from your guys' memories.

♡ °✧‧₊˚ and if you let me - non-idol coworker! jungkook with reader, drabble (fluff)

it was your last day at work and jungkook, who has a big fat crush on you, throws a going away party before you go.

♡ °✧‧₊˚ (PENDING) 505 - canon with normie and very toxic!reader, oneshot (angst, light depictions of smut, friendzoned!idol jungkook, emotional manipulation, unrequited love)

she calls him and he comes like clockwork every time, even though he knows deep down that it’s never a good idea. this time, he has 2 hours to turn around before he picks her up from her ex-boyfriend’s house. will he get there or will he finally let her go?

SERIES ˎˊ˗₊‧‎♡

decision to leave universe

⋆｡°✩ decision to leave - canon with hollywood socialite!reader, oneshot (missed connections, forbidden love and abrupt endings, angst, character study)

being an idol is never easy. they work endlessly, and "fans", the media, and the company follow and critique their every movement. they're not strong enough, one could feel very trapped and suffocated. jungkook was used to all of this. what he wasn't used to was finding the right person at the wrong time.

⋆｡°✩ fling - canon with reporter!reader, spinoff from decision to leave (angst, missed connections)

you were interviewing bangtan and couldn't help but felt a level of closeness to the youngest member. soon after, jungkook ended up taking a liking to you, proposing that you two should meet up throughout the week while he was in town for a little fun.

⋆｡°✩ (PENDING) perfect illusion - canon with reporter!reader, continuation of fling (angst, missed connections)

a year has passed since you had your little fling with jungkook and well, things surely have changed: for better or for jungkook, worse. you returned to his life in an unexpected way, only to fall in love with one of his band members, min yoongi.

J U N G K O O K & B A N G T A N

⋆·˚ ༘ * something about us (namjikook) - college, series (f2l, romcom, smut, slice of life, coming out journey)

very upright christian boy jeon jungkook decided to do his roommate kim taehyung a favor by stopping by his plug’s house to get his usual shit.

little did he know that taehyung’s plug was fucking hot.

⋆·˚ ༘ * it's a bad idea, right? (jungkook x reader & yoongi x reader) - oneshot (non-idol!roommate jungkook, musician!yoongi, and music industry person!reader, romcom, smut)

yoongi and y/n broke up and she wants him back. desperately. so much so that she got a fake boyfriend (aka her annoying BUT attractive roommate) to get him jealous. what a terrible idea.

O T H E R

✿ - love drought (jackson wang x reader) - canon, oneshot (post-breakup, slice of life, angst, character study)

both of you are broken from past relationships, but chose to give love another chance when you met each other. when a misunderstanding and a long history of miscommunication leads to a breakup, you two are left wondering if you two were wrong for each other, or was it based on circumstances. on one fateful night, you decided to meet up with jackson to not only catch up, but to figure out the answer to the most important question.

#jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #writing #mine #gonna make this my pinned officially but anyway. this isn't really a writing blog exclusively #i'm just too lazy to make a whole new #writing blog esp if i already wrote shit here and tbh i'm gonna keep leaning onto this bc ok #i do have a few plot bunnies around and i need some time to flesh it out #but hopefully by year's end there's more to this #i do wanna write more bangtan fics just to keep my writing bug going and not lose steam bc fuck i love writing and wanna get better #i have a lot to work on as well like world building and doing chaptered fics but anyway! fanfiction writer katie is back baby #pls rly do not ask for requests like i will not fulfill them anyway and will make it very different from what you think #i cannot write smut for shit so don't ask me to write a 10k fic of jungkook railing you ok i'm serious

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nflstreetsanimereviews · 1 year

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Spring 2023 Anime First Impressions

Below is a list of eight anime that I am watching this season, and my impressions of them so far. I'd also like to say I'm watching the second season of Mahoyome, but I don't think it's necessary to write about it, considering it's a sequel.

Oshi no Ko

To say that Oshi no Ko is the anime to watch this season would be an understatement. The first episode, which has an extended runtime of 82 minutes, is quite possibly one of the best first episodes of an anime that I’ve ever seen. Of course, with around four times the time to air–Oshi no Ko had to justify its feature-length first episode. If it was just average, then what was the point? Thankfully, Oshi no Ko more than justifies the dramatic entrance. The sky-high average rating (89%), while a good omen, seemed like a bit much considering the show just started, but after finally watching it, I can understand why someone would rate it that high. I’m saving my rating until the anime finishes however.

The long run time is only part of why Oshi no Ko was so well received. The stylistic choices (a part brought over by the manga) set it apart from the onset. It really captures the vibe of what an ‘idol’ idealistically is. Considering that Hoshino Ai is the ideal idol, it’s a perfect match. Art isn’t what the only thing that Oshi no Ko has going for it. The story contained within the first episode is a whirlwind. It’s astounding that Oshi no Ko can contain so many various themes and time skips and still maintain to be gripping. It’s not easy for a show to be compelling while essentially being Rugrats at the same time. Oshi no Ko also ‘keeps it real’ in relation to the entertainment industry, and isn’t afraid to show the dark side of fandom. Wrap it all up together, and you have one the best first episodes to an anime in recent memory. Oshi no Ko is from the same mangaka that wrote Kaguya-sama: Love is War–I never got into Kaguya-sama, but Oshi no Ko had me drawn in within the first twenty minutes.

The synopsis for Oshi no Ko does it no favors–I had no idea what the show was going to be about from reading it, which, if you think about it, was actually a good thing. Maybe I’m just a moron. If you really care, you can read it here. As for the time being, it seems that the story has calmed down in the sense that time skips aren’t going to happen as frequently. I don’t know really since I’m an anime-only. With that comes the inevitable coming back down to earth, which is not all that surprising considering that not every episode can have the budget and runtime the first episode did. This isn’t Band of Brothers unfortunately. That being said, the fact that I was spoiled on the ending of the first episode and it still managing to be something that upset me says a lot about the quality of Oshi no Ko. If I had to pick one anime this season to watch, it would be this. It’s the only anime this season that I like enough to pick up the manga.

Skip to Loafer (Skip and Loafer)

Mitsumi Iwakura is born to lead!...no wait, sorry, that sounds too presumptuous…Mitsumi Iwakura wants to lead the charge to make the world a better place…or at least her dinky rural hometown that doesn’t even have a train station. Mitsumi is already a straight-A student, but being from rural Japan, she needs to move to Tokyo if she wants any chance of achieving her goals. Before she attends Tokyo University and becomes a politician/bureaucrat, she moves to Tokyo to go to high school.

On her first day, she gets lost on her way to school in the Tokyo subway system. Being not accustomed to ‘city life’, her only saving grace is Sousuke Shima, fellow classmate, who is late as well. He offers to show her the way to their school, which is the beginning of their rather unlikely friendship.

Shima, who’s a former child actor and has the ‘aloof shoujo male lead’ thing down pat, finds comfort in being friends with someone like Mitsumi–someone who’s good-natured, albeit being very naive and a bit of a square as well. Their friendship, while seemingly unlikely, isn’t hamfisted in any sense. Skip and Loafer is a coming-of-age story that has left a smile on most viewers' faces, mine included. It’s an overused word, but Skip and Loafer has been genuinely wholesome so far, which is good since I don’t know if Mitsumi could handle being in a more melodramatic show. The anime sites seem to compare this to Kimi ni Todoke, which I understand at first glance–they’re both similar shows, but they aren’t clones. Mitsumi is a book-smart dunce–you know, like most teenagers that aspire to a future in politics. However, unlike most teenagers that aspire to a future in politics, Mitsumi is a good person, which is why someone like Shima and many others at Mitsumi’s new high school are friends with her. Skip and Loafer is a good watch.

Kimi wa Houkago Insomnia (Insomniacs After School)

Ganta Nakami suffers from insomnia, which causes him to act irritable and antisocial at school. One day, while scavenging cardboard boxes from the abandoned and ‘haunted’ Astronomy Club observatory, he finds Isaki Magari, sleeping inside a toppled locker inside the clubroom.

Magari, as it turns out, also has insomnia, and the observatory is her getaway. It’s the perfect place to hide away, since sounds from the outside world are blocked out, and because it has a reputation for being ‘haunted’, meaning that it most likely won’t get used as a hang-out spot by other students. Together, they decide to transform the vacant observatory into the perfect place to sleep…that is, until they get caught. In order to keep their ‘secret’ place, they restart the Astronomy Club.

For a slice-of-life, Insomniacs After School manages to be interesting while not having needless drama. The romance seems to be intended to be more of a slow burn–which is perfectly fine with me, considering there’s already romance anime I’m watching this season that has gotten to the point where the main couple is engaged. This anime, while sharing the same theme as Call of the Night, doesn’t share many other themes. The romance, while being a slow burn, does have an obvious path, unlike Call of the Night. I’m honestly really liking this show so far if not only because each episode I’ve seen so far has managed to be interesting in different ways. While Call of the Night was mainly about vampires, Insomniacs After School is going all in on Ganta and Magari taking astronomy seriously. Photography as well. Since I haven’t read any of the manga, I don’t know which of the themes will win out. One thing is that I’ll be watching, since I’ve really liked it so far.

Ao no Orchestra (The Blue Orchestra)

Ao no Orchestra’s entry in this list is a miracle of modern technology. Due to it not being licensed to release in America, the only way of watching it right now is through watching fansubs. And not those ‘fansub’ groups that rip subtitles from Crunchyroll/Funimation/etc. and call it a day–this is the first time I’ve downloaded an anime from a ‘group’ that was formed ad-hoc for an anime in a very long time. It’s a shame too, since I think Ao no Orchestra deserves better than that.

Ao no Orchestra stars violin prodigy Hajime Aono, who stopped playing due to personal reasons. One day at school, he hears the sound of the violin being played horribly. He discovers that Ritsuko Akine is the one polluting the air with her noise. She uses the school infirmary as a practice room–a room that Aono is familiar with himself, being a frequent visitor. Through their mutual love for the violin, Aono finds himself being drawn back to playing. Akine, who is only a beginner, wants Aono to teach her how to play. Aono, who isn’t too thrilled by her forceful attempts to get him to play, nonetheless starts teaching her how to play.

Despite the show being uniquely difficult to obtain, it maintains to be worth the hassle. The British slang does take you by surprise, yes, but maybe if you wait enough, a company will license it and you can watch it on Crunchyroll. Or maybe you can wait until someone else decides to translate it. Or you could just learn Japanese, so you wouldn’t have to deal with this anyways, but that would be too much work. Ao no Orchestra

Kono Subarashii Sekai ni Bakuen wo! (Konosuba: Megumin Edition)

If you hated every other Konosuba character except for Megumin, are interested in her backstory, or just find the series funny, then Konosuba: Megumin Edition (calling it this because there’s no separate abbreviation for this spin-off and calling it ‘Konosuba Season 3’ would be lying…wait, how about Konomegu? No? Okay…) is right up your alley.

This spin-off takes place a year before Kazuma and Aqua are isekaied into the Konosuba world and follows Megumin in her studies to be able to cast Explosion magic, an extremely offensive magic that has little utility other than blowing areas up into smithereens. Anyone whose seen Konosuba knows what I’m talking about. With Megumin is fellow Crimson Magic Clan member Yunyun, who shares a main role with Megumin and is together with her in being the two top students in their class.

Even if this is the first Konosuba-related thing you’ve watched, I believe that you’ll have a good time. It’s way less of a bait-and-switch than the first episode of Konosuba was. Pure comedy with none of the lewdness. Megumin is probably the funniest character in my opinion as well, making this a must watch.

Yamada-kun to Lv999 no Koi wo Suru

Imagine being dumped for a girl that your boyfriend met in a video game–Akane Kinoshita doesn’t have to! Being a novice gamer, her sour experience with the MMO Forest Of Savior (FOS) is almost enough to put her off of gaming forever…that is, until she meets Yamada; fellow guildmate who also happens to live in the same area as Akane. He’s also a pro gamer (in a non-descript FPS game), which makes him somewhat of a celebrity among gamers locally.

Yamada-kun is shaping up to be your prototypical shoujo anime–it’s something to watch if you’re into that sort of stuff. I’d like to see more about what Yamada does, being a ‘pro gamer’ and all, but I doubt we’ll ever get to see anything more than surface-level. It’s a shoujo anime, so the romance is what the people are here for. If it does that well, then there’s really nothing else it has to do. It is what it is.

Not much to say about the show since it’s pretty straightforward with what it is. I’m having a good time with it, and I’m not the target audience.

Kawaisugi Crisis! (Too Cute Crisis!)

Too Cute Crisis! is a very straightforward anime–Liza Luna, who is a research scientist and a higher-up in the invading alien empire (I forgot the name of it) discovers Earth. She wants to destroy it, but not without doing reconnaissance first.

She arrives in Japan, where she is ‘attacked’ by the cuteness of Earth’s creatures. Liza is mesmerized by the cuteness of cats (and dogs too), so much so that it paralyzes and makes her docile to the cat she adopts. In all of her time conquering planets, she has never seen anything as cute as a cat before. The cuteness of an animal that can’t be controlled makes her believe that cats are the secret rulers of Earth…and she might just be right.

This is by far the most lighthearted show I’m watching this season–anything with cats or any other furry pets really is cheating! The fact that everyone seems to chill with an alien race potentially razing Earth a la General Sherman is a bit odd, but it’s not like Too Cute Crisis! is focusing on that. Liza being an alien has made for good gags so far. I’ve had some laughs from Too Cute Crisis! so far, but I have a feeling that this show is going to end up being forgettable. It’s the catch with these types of shows. It's a show reliant on the jokes hitting. And currently, they're hitting often enough to justify continuing watching.

Otonari ni Ginga (A Galaxy Next Door)

Mangaka Ichirou Kuga is barely making ends meet–ever since their father died, he’s had to support his two younger siblings on his own with the earnings from drawing manga. He’s also the landlord of a social apartment (an apartment house with a common area), where he, his siblings, and several other people live in. There are no bad landlords in anime, unless if needed to advance the plot.

When he’s just about to miss a deadline, Shiori Goshiki applies to be his new assistant (his last two left to pursue their own dreams). Goshiki, despite only knowing about manga for a year, is excellent at her job as a manga assistant–excellent to the point where it’s otherworldly. Funnily enough, turns out that Goshiki IS from another world…well, from a shooting star but you get my point. They’re both unwillingly betrothed to each other when Kuga accidentally touches her stinger.

The fact that she’s an alien seems not to phase Kuga that much. I guess it’s okay when the alien is great at her job and a sweetheart to boot. Of the two anime I’m watching this season featuring a conventionally attractive alien woman, A Galaxy Next Door is by far the more serious one. Like Too Cute Crisis!, A Galaxy Next Door might end up being forgettable. It’s the way it’s shaping up so far. It isn’t that bad–just a bit dull so far. A standard supernational romance anime. Take it or leave it.

#anime first impressions #anime

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