#this scene was so hard to color gn </3

[starsstuddedsky]

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it. 

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips. 

“I won’t do it,” you say. 

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet. 

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you. 

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach. 

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?” 

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.” 

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage. 

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated. 

“I’ll pay you!” 

“With what money?” 

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next. 

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor. 

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!” 

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?” 

“What did you think I meant?” 

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.” 

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!” 

“Why do you need me?” 

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts. 

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it. 

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.” 

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.” 

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out. 

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds. 

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious. 

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?” 

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.” 

“That’s the one with the zombies?” 

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?” 

“That’s not the original book?” 

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.” 

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. 

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.” 

“How many movies are there?” 

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’ 

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.” 

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.” 

“He’s the friend from your history class?” 

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.” 

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.” 

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.” 

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is. 

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.” 

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.” 

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.” 

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.” 

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks. 

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping. 

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?” 

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you. 

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for. 

.

.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?” 

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.” 

“Wasn’t there a third section?” 

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs. 

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face. 

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.” 

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment. 

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.” 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.” 

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?” 

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.” 

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two. 

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits. 

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone. 

“That soon?” 

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.” 

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks. 

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.” 

“Is November cutting it too close?” 

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.” 

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.” 

“You’re that confident?” 

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.” 

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.” 

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.” 

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.” 

“You can’t just buy your own game?” 

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.” 

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.” 

“To?” 

“The Christmas party.” 

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say. 

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.” 

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything. 

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say. 

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down. 

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table. 

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones. 

“Walk me through your process,” you say. 

“Okay, I start with…”

.

. 

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?” 

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?” 

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power. 

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.” 

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip. 

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?” 

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning. 

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing. 

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground. 

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?” 

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.” 

“But–” 

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.” 

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark. 

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled. 

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese. 

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather. 

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers. 

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns. 

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?” 

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.” 

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.” 

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you. 

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section. 

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.  

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem. 

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!” 

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well I did learn from the best!” 

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. 

“What?” 

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.” 

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words. 

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook. 

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.” 

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.” 

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up. 

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says. 

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun. 

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.” 

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.” 

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.” 

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung. 

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin. 

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say. 

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.” 

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance. 

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart. 

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long. 

.

.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark. 

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in. 

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test. 

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time. 

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms. 

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer. 

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment. 

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most. 

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid. 

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you. 

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?” 

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.” 

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks. 

You done? He mouths. 

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take. 

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet. 

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is. 

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going? 

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.” 

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?” 

“You have a car?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up. 

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck. 

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue. 

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?” 

“It has a name?” 

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.” 

“And the frat name is Larry?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.” 

“And you call it a duck, too?” 

“It looks like a duck.” 

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions). 

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style. 

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him. 

“Hey Josh,” he says. 

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.” 

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying. 

 “Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?” 

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says. 

“So, yes?” 

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression. 

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer. 

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.” 

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.” 

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?” 

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.” 

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe. 

.

.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off. 

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves. 

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide. 

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it. 

“So, you do this often?” You ask. 

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua. 

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.” 

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac. 

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes. 

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. 

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him. 

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet. 

“It feels better like this,” he says. 

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out. 

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.” 

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side. 

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh. 

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.” 

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower. 

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says. 

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it. 

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” You choke out. 

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.” 

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?” 

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks. 

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot. 

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie. 

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?” 

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again. 

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents. 

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.” 

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose. 

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.” 

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue. 

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering. 

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad. 

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car. 

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in. 

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.” 

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place. 

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes. 

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.” 

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little. 

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk. 

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?” 

“Not until nine.” 

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down. 

“Soonyoung?” 

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.” 

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to? 

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake. 

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice. 

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you. 

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you. 

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung. 

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better. 

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen. 

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one. 

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close. 

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung. 

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway. 

“Are you seriously just getting back now?” 

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?” 

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?” 

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?” 

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him. 

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says. 

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move. 

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says. 

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!” 

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.” 

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment. 

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room. 

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?” 

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed. 

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself. 

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures. 

.

.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat. 

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste. 

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”  

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again. 

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?” 

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.” 

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say. 

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. 

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.” 

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.” 

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.” 

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.” 

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words. 

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside. 

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny. 

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.” 

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it. 

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say. 

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.” 

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms. 

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes. 

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.” 

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.” 

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” 

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too. 

“You’re drunk,” you say. 

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.” 

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet. 

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?” 

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.” 

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him. 

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots. 

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Then Soonyoung walked in. 

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you. 

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know. 

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.” 

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm. 

“You don’t have any idea?” 

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.” 

“You are smart.” 

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.” 

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.” 

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.” 

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.” 

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand. 

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear. 

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out. 

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him. 

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again. 

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it. 

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes. 

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop. 

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?” 

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is. 

.

.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them. 

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand. 

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes. 

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.” 

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life. 

“Is it B?” 

“Are you asking or telling?” 

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!” 

“Pick an answer.” 

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says. 

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod. 

“I knew it! Trust your gut!” 

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”  

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him. 

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly. 

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes. 

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.” 

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!” 

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels. 

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.” 

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book. 

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!” 

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter. 

“You like it that much?” 

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.” 

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not? 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you. 

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes. 

“How did you get it back?” 

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.” 

“On what?” 

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers. 

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.” 

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you. 

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right. 

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?” 

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends. 

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.” 

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.” 

“I’m a frat bro,” he says. 

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs. 

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members. 

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?” 

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say. 

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil. 

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier. 

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer. 

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades. 

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you. 

.

.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?” 

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.” 

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour. 

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart. 

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.” 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie. 

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers. 

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose. 

“Ready to go?” 

“How did you get out of bed this early?” 

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.” 

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving. 

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door. 

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I should be asleep.” 

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future. 

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain. 

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%. 

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile. 

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.  

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music. 

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it. 

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt. 

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?” 

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.” 

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything. 

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader. 

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen. 

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu. 

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop. 

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?” 

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.  

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.” 

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?” 

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.” 

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”  

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you. 

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth. 

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says. 

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says. 

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.” 

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?” 

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.” 

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?” 

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks. 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?” 

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.” 

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack. 

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?” 

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset. 

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are. 

Just what has Soonyoung said about you? 

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out. 

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today? 

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?” 

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.” 

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.” 

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes. 

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Because of the bet?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.” 

Coward. 

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?” 

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.” 

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say. 

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says. 

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.” 

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.” 

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.” 

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man. 

“I’ll think about making an appearance.” 

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?” 

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.” 

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?” 

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.” 

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed. 

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower. 

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway. 

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it. 

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose. 

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that. 

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time. 

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung. 

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer. 

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out. 

“Ten!” 

“Nine!” 

“Eight!” 

“Seven!” 

“Six!” 

“Five!” 

“Four!” 

“Three!” 

“Two!” 

“One!” 

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you. 

169. 

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you. 

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side. 

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet. 

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage. 

“Hey Soonyoung?” 

“Hm?” 

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?” 

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.” 

.

.

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date. 

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea. 

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried. 

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message. 

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung. 

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity. 

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth. 

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says. 

“We were supposed to–” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.” 

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you. 

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday. 

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you. 

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” 

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch. 

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare. 

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder. 

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.” 

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers. 

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says. 

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied. 

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?” 

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.” 

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.” 

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart. 

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this. 

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him. 

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe. 

.

.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it. 

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date. 

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him. 

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again. 

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you. 

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was. 

“Are you done hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter. 

He folds his arms. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.” 

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head. 

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels? 

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch? 

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head. 

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you. 

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?” 

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.” 

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again. 

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself. 

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–” 

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it. 

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor. 

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight. 

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.” 

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–” 

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.” 

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“Then why are you still on the floor?” 

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him. 

“What if he hates me?” 

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.” 

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready. 

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?” 

“Hell no.” 

.

.

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you. 

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last. 

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.” 

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’ 

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down. 

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober. 

.

.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love. 

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop. 

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone. 

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly. 

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble. 

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?” 

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you. 

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself. 

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you. 

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek. 

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say. 

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats. 

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form. 

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer. 

“I already do.” 

.

.

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face. 

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know. 

 You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this. 

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say. 

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.” 

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung. 

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head. 

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head. 

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.” 

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this. 

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment. 

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse. 

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream. 

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds). 

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else. 

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter. 

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing. 

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.” 

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?” 

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. 

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.” 

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep. 

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on. 

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift. 

“You have driven this car before, right?” 

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty. 

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat. 

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.” 

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too. 

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes. 

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning. 

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out. 

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly. 

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you. 

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again. 

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better. 

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.” 

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.” 

Soonyoung beams. “Really?” 

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?” 

“Better than drunk in my own bed.” 

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face. 

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!” 

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!” 

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours. 

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting. 

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.” 

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart. 

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on. 

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?” 

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his. 

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker. 

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—” 

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?” 

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.” 

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there. 

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?” 

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.” 

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?” 

“Are we not good?” 

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now. 

“We are beyond good.” 

.

.

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink. 

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime. 

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.” 

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat. 

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last. 

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours. 

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks. 

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?” 

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think. 

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist. 

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you? 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…” 

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.” 

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.” 

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by. 

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.  

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head. 

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing. 

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter. 

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon. 

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’” 

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions. 

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.” 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him. 

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.” 

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says. 

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up. 

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.” 

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says. 

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say. 

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“What?” 

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says. 

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?” 

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more. 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice. 

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!” 

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him. 

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.” 

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.” 

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.” 

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.” 

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?” 

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks. 

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush. 

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.” 

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says. 

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.” 

#🌟 stars galaxy #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #svt hoshi #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #hoshi angst #soonyoung angst #soonyoung #svt x reader

[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

-> Chapter 1(Here)| Chapter 2 | ...

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Hello everyone, pls don't expect much from this chapter,which is going to be part of a series, will be that good. I may have grammatical errors and wrong spellings so please don't hesitate to tell me in the comments about it. English is not my main language. Also, I write some very descriptive and long scenes about what the reader does because i got used to writing descriptive essays so please bear with the long paragraphs and sentences. Thank you.

And yes, I'm back. Also the Misunderstanding series will be updated after my exams this is just in my drafts and I wanted to just upload it.

-Eli

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms (😝 im joking bro) if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3.

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You close your eyes and think back to that very fateful day — the day that entirely altered your life's course and shatter any semblance of normalcy you once knew. The memory is etched in your mind, clear and vivid. The secret your café had.

You had always dreamed of owning your very own café when you get older. It had always consumed your thoughts and fueled your ambitions. Doing everything you can to be able to make your dream come true. It was a dream that guided you through your highs and lows, the setbacks and triumphs, and now, your very own cafe is now right infront of your eyes. You stand awe, gazing upon your newly built dream café that represents your years of hard work and dedication. It almost feels surreal. The weight of such an accomplishment settles in your shoulders, filling with a sense of pride that it threatens to burst out of your chest.

The obstacles and challenges you faced along the way have not gone unnoticed. The countless hours of planning, the sacrifices made, the hurdles overcome—each scar and battle wound a testament to your unwavering determination. They have shaped you into the person you are today, a person who is standing on the precipice of their own extraordinary creation. In this moment, you can't help but reflect on how far you have come. You just want to curl up into a ball and cry for how proud you are for yourself.

As you approach the door to your café, your hand trembles with anticipation. You grasp the smooth handle, feeling the coolness of the metal against your palm, and slowly turn it. The door swung open, emitting a soft creak that pierced the silence. Above it, a small, quaint bell dangled delicately, waiting to be disturbed. The cascade of delicate notes wove together seamlessly, announcing your presence, like a whispered greeting to anyone who would listen.

You stare in awe and wonder at the interior design of your cafe , captivated by it's beauty. The space exceeds your imagination and sketches, each detail meticulously brought to life. You explore every corner, your eyes eager to take in every detail. The plants you selected with great care breathe life into the space, their vibrant green leaves adding a touch of freshness and enhancing the cozy, warm aura you envisioned. Sunlight steams through the windows, casting a golden glow that illuminates upon your carefully handpicked furniture, adding a touch of charm. Every detail, from the placement of tables and chairs to the color palette and textures and to the shelf placed at the wall behind the counter with small sized standees of genshin impact, comes together harmoniously, painting a reality that is more beautiful than it was in your imagination.

You took one last look at your own café, only to catch sight of a door that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. It wasn't in your sketches, nor was it part of the layout you had memorized. How could something so out of place suddenly appear in your beloved café? How weird. You were sure that when you went inside this café it was never there. It was on the opposite side of the front entrance door of your café. It had a very different kind of design from the doors you had. How weird . Were you perhaps hallucinating? Was your stress and sleep deprivation finally getting to you? You resort to pinching and slapping your cheeks in an attempt to jolt yourself back to reality. Nope. You can still see it. You rushed to go outside of your café. As you step out into the open, your eyes scanning the exterior, you're met with a surprising revelation—the door you saw inside your café is nowhere to be found. It's as if it had vanished into thin air, leaving you bewildered and questioning your senses.

Nonetheless, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief and once again went inside of your café, blaming your hallucination to your stress. However, as your eyes scanned the interior again, you saw the door still there.

'Oh, hell no.' You thought and quickly opened the front door again, took a look at the exterior, look at the door inside, and continued doing that action for a minute. Yup, you're officialy hallucinating.

You looked at the strange door and felt a nagging feeling of curiousity wanting to try and open that door. Maybe it was actually a big ass sticker that one of the builders placed as a prank. You never know. Steeling yourself, you went closer to the door on your tippy toes. Carefully trying to be quiet. Why? You don't know. You just knew you had to. Maybe it was an instinct of yours. You were now infrot of the door and you tried reaching for the door knob still thinking it was a sticker but the coolness feeling in your hands said uno reverse. You abruptly took back your hand in shock. You stared down at the atrocity in front of you. You quickly raised your foot and took off your shoes/heel/slipper and held onto it tightly. Preparing yourself to open the door, you took in a deep breath and reached for the door knob once more. Twisting it open, a ray of sunlight shone through the small crack as you pushed the door open gently.

Your eyes widen at the sight infront of you as you had fully opened the door. The grip your hand had on your lethal weapon widened and it slipped from your hands. The sight infront of you was so surreal. 'This can't be true, right?' your head was going to so many places, unable to comprehend what was going on. You felt kinda dizzy.

You would be a fool not to recognize this place that you had seen so many times throughout your life. A few kilometers infront of you was the City of Mondstadt in view. You could even see the knights guarding the gate and Timmie with his pigeons at the bridge.

The weird door from your cafe was actually a door to the Genshin Impact world. Wow... wtf.

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also pls take a look at my poorly drawn drawing of what your view looks like cause for the love of god I can't seem to explain it:

Also you're in a cliff or something. so yeah

Taglist:

None

#genshin sagau #genshin reverse sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin reverse isekai #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #various genshin characters #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader x various genshin character #•works[🍡]• #genshin series

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 10: After a Love Test

Chapter 10: After a Love Test

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, Canon-typical violence, insecurities, jealousy, clowns

WC: 1.8k words, 10/18 chapters

Summary: Set at the start of Act 3, time with a dyrad leads to some jealousy and some fluff.

Ao3 | [Hug9][Hug11] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Somehow, despite the tumult, despite the horrors of the Shadowlands, your group has stumbled into what can only be described as a fresh, new hell. Or as Karlach eagerly exclaimed, “The Circus!” While your companions are all as Baldurian as you are, only Karlach seemed truly excited to stumble upon the brightly-colored, boisterous affair. 

That being said, you’re a sucker for her big, puppy dog eyes, so the entire group files in past the security. You lie and say something about being a knife thrower– not hard to believe considering how you’re equipped– but the chortle from Astarion almost gives you away. It tells you all you need to know, but he whispers to you anyway, “You? A knife-thrower? You’d sooner throw your boot at an enemy.” He’s not wrong, and you’re annoyed at how well he knows you.

“Oh, hush,” you whisper back. “Or if they put us to work, I’ll throw my knives at you.” It doesn’t wipe the grin from his face, but he does let it go.

After some odd adventures with a Djinni, speaking to a rather funny little kobold, and knicking a few items from every stall and unsuspecting spectator, you are starting to find yourself having actual fun. Perhaps it’s the petty theft– your favorite– or more likely, the company. Every time you have a wicked little thought on what to steal, Astarion is right behind you, ready to act on it. Even Shadowheart, who is usually thoroughly fed up with your antics, cracks a smile when Astarion nabs the cheating Djinni’s ring. 

You begin to see why Karlach was so very excited to find a circus, and you give yourself to the atmosphere of the place. That’s why, when your group stumbles upon a dryad proclaiming to give love readings, you don’t shy away. In fact, when she declares that you’re in love in front of the group, your lover included, you don’t even blush.

Astarion stands proud at your admission, his head tilting up every so slightly. You can tell that he’s feeling quite pleased, so much so that when you ask him if he’d like to do the love test with you, he doesn’t hesitate.

The group, the circus fades away, an idyllic scene taking its place. A series of three questions pass, and with each answer, you take a step closer to your elven lover. Something about the picturesque scene fills you with a deep wish to run away together, find yourselves a secluded moment like this, away from even this dryad’s prying eyes. Astarion closes the gap between you, the test complete and your love thrumming– or whatever Zethino proclaimed. 

“How close you are, two hearts beating a perfect rhythm,” the dryad says, her tone melodic and lulling. “But I know the truth. Only one face holds your dreams each night. Close your eyes, sweetness, and she will come to you.”

What? you think to yourself. You turn toward Astarion who is looking at you, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. There’s a pain to them that begins to surface, and you shake your head, trying to reassure him.

“Close your eyes,” Zethino repeats. You hesitate, you know you don’t love anyone else, but you were the one who suggested you did this little love test, so it’s up to you to play along. You close your eyes.

There are a few moments of silence, only the sounds of the circus coming through and you begin to wonder if she means to show you anything at all. You open your eyes to ask as much, only to be face-to-face with a grotesque, unnervingly familiar face: the woman from the mindflayer colony.

You recoil at her pale, unnatural visage, and make eye contact with Astarion, who is already reaching for a blade. The woman, Orin, doesn’t seem to be here to fight though. After posturing, not even allowing you to get a single word in, she dissipates into the air. For some reason, your first thought is born of a childish disappointment, was there ever any kind of love test?

The group is phased at this, naturally– she’s confirmed that she’s stalking you all, that she could be watching from any corner, wearing any face. So when you get back to enjoying what’s left of the circus, Astarion’s stormy expression and agitated twitches seem entirely warranted. 

You try not to let it get to you, but after a few minutes of this, you say to Karlach and Shadowheart, “You go on ahead, I want to check out this bard with Astarion. Maybe try pickpocketing some distracted audience members.” 

Karlach is already mostly over the whole shapeshifter thing, back into full on circus mode. “Say no more, soldier. Shadowheart, let’s go look at the animals!”

Once they turn the corner, you face Astarion. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what,” he says, looking down at his nails nonchalantly, steadfastly ignoring your searching eyes.

“You’re brooding,” you say, reaching out a hand for his. You wait a moment for him to accept it, and when he neither avoids it, nor accepts it, you gently grab a few of his fingers. “Is it Orin?”

His hand relents easily, and, as if moving on its own, intertwines his fingers with your own. “No,” he starts. “Well, kind of.” You wait patiently for him to sort out his thoughts, rubbing a thumb over one of his knuckles to the jaunty beat of the bard next to you.

After a bit, he says, “We’ve been entirely too open and trusting. Even if she wasn’t Orin, wouldn’t you say we were left too vulnerable there, dear.”

You try your best to keep your expression neutral. His concerns are valid, his fears coming from a very real place. But your stomach drops at the idea that this could shatter whatever safety he’s started to feel. “You’re not wrong, love,” you start, measuring your words carefully. “But we know how to handle ourselves. Even as Orin, I know we could take her.”

“You might be right, but that doesn’t mean we should be putting our lives into anyone’s hands but our own,” he scoffs, fingers clasping tightly over yours, as if these two pairs of hands are the only ones that you can trust. “Baldur’s Gate is more dangerous than anything the Shadowlands could throw at us because the dangers look so… mundane.”

“I know,” you say. “All I can say is that I care for you, Astarion. And no matter what the city throws at us, we’ll be together to face it. Just like the love test today.”

The vampire rolls his eyes at your words, but a smile finally creeps onto his face. “Ugh, you’re so utterly saccharine,” he responds. But, despite his words, his arms pull you into a big hug, enveloping you in a blanket of cool leather and his familiar scent. “That being said, if you ever want to do another love test, I'm going to have to squeeze you to death.”

You laugh into his shoulder and say, “Fine, fine. We’ll have to trust that our bond is unbreakable without a magical Master of Love telling us so.”

“Exactly, I don’t need some stranger to tell me what we already know.” He sounds confident, assured to start. But a moment later, his voice comes out as sulky when he follows up with. “It’s not like you have another, more handsome lover like she suggested, right?”

An odd response from him, especially with the petulant face and tone. And you don’t recall the dryad using the word ‘handsome.’ Is he… “Were you… jealous?” you ask, lifting your head up. You’re not teasing, just genuinely wondering if that small statement from an evil woman could elicit such a reaction from your love.

“I was not jealous,” Astarion responds, aghast. “What is there to be jealous of, that ridiculous shapeshifter? A fictional person laying in wait? A particularly muscular tiefling whose company you enjoy? I think not.”

His body betrays his words, his arms around you squeezing almost painfully tight as he talks. You haven’t seen true jealousy on him before, only the occasional moments of self-deprecation or worry, and something about it makes you want to go right back to teasing. “Oh, I don’t know. A shapeshifter could look like anyone, imagine all of the possibilities of a shapeshifting lover,” you say, an exaggerated tone of wistfulness in your voice.

In a wry tone, he responds, “There are scrolls for that.”

“I’m just kidding!” You nudge him playfully in the side. “I don’t actually want a shapeshifter, alright? You’re perfect the way that you are.” He preens a little at that and loosens his grip on you– You take the opportunity to slip out of his arms and look at him head-on. “Now tell me, did she bother you that much?”

“What do you want me to say?” He raises his arms in exasperation. “That when she said you had another love it felt like a troll had taken a club to my chest?”

“I like the imagery,” you remark, helpfully.

“Thank you,” he says, sighs, and continues, calmer now. “Some– very small– part of me was worried. I meant it when I said you deserve something real. You deserve more than real, and what if… what if that just isn’t something a runaway vampire spawn can offer?”

“My love,” you melt under his words, under his pleading red gaze, begging you to love him for who he is– as if you don’t already feel the weight of that love with every single breath you take. “You are so much more than you know. May I hug you?”

He nods, his expression pulling at each and every one of your heart strings. His eyes stay trained on you as you pull him back towards you. You bury your face in his neck and say, “I promise you have no one to be jealous of, I can confidently say no one compares.”

Astarion gives a shaky sigh. “I know. I am phenomenal.” 

You stifle a chuckle. “That you are.”

As is typical with an adventuring party like yours, these secluded moments are few and far between. A familiar booming voice crashes into your hug. “Look what I found!” Karlach exclaims. “Face paint, just like the clowns! Fangs, please tell me I can put some face paint on you.”

The vampire stiffens in your arms at the sound of that, but the wheels of mischief are already spinning in your head. “Karlach,” you say. “I think that might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, I know,” she responds, a few kits in hand. “But don’t think you’re escaping either soldier.”

You look at Astarion, mirroring the same panic on his face. Releasing him from your arms, you access the situation. “If we split up, she can’t catch us both.”

“After you, my dear,” he responds.

You turn, only to find Shadowheart waiting, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh no, you don’t. You’ve both had your fun today. Time for us to have ours.”

It’s not long before you and your lover match, sporting the garish colors of a painted clown. Normally, you’d hate this and, on the surface, you certainly still do. But deep down, you feel a lighthearted joy– you told Astarion you’d face anything together, you suppose the circus is no different.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

[kiwicider]

banana split - peter parker

pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

synopsis: peter will always be your voice of reason

word count: 723

warnings: kissing, tiny bit of angst. the spider-man brainrot is so bad i had to get this out while i write other stuff (for a diff… spider-man)</3

The cement steps in front of your apartment building felt warm, the small stones and bumps imprinting themselves onto your skin in a pattern. Peter stood a few feet away, conversing with the ice cream man as he prepared a chocolate cone and banana split, laughing loudly at a story the man recalled with a smile.

A shadow flashed over his face from the blinking lights of the ice cream truck, plum-colored bruises littering the expanse of his jaw and tops of his cheekbones. A thin, scabbed over cut ran across his nose, almost hidden by the frame of his glasses. Despite the minimal light and his injuries, he had never looked better to you.

Peter walked back with full hands, the off-white laces of his beat up Nikes in view. “Here, I told him to add whipped cream to yours,” he said, bumping into you as he sat down.

You scooped up a combination of vanilla and strawberry onto the spoon, wiping the excess on the side. “Thanks Pete,” you mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream, wiping at the corner of your lips.

A small crowd of younger kids formed by the truck, handing their money through the window in exchange for popsicles of cartoon characters. You couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up at the sight of them, the scene reminiscent of a childhood spent with Peter by your side.

“Remember when we were that small?” you asked softly, motioning towards the kids with your head.

Peter nodded, licking around his scoop of chocolate. “I used to beg May to give me a couple extra bucks so I could buy you something too,” he replied with a laugh. “It’s hard to come up with money at eight years old, the tooth fairy can only do so much.”

You snorted at the memory, thinking back to a bright eyed Peter showing you the crumpled dollar bills and quarters he’d gotten from Aunt May to buy your banana split. The two of you could barely reach the window, struggling to place your money on the small piece of plywood that acted as a counter.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips sticky but soft. “It’s been almost fifteen years and your order hasn’t changed.”

A smile pulled your lips upward and you nodded, glancing up at him. Up close, you could see his bruises clearly, the marks a nasty contrast against his fair skin. He noticed the way your face faltered the more you stared, your fingers reaching up to skim his cheek.

You spoke after a pause. “A lot has though, right?”

Peter could hear the shift in your voice, worry showcasing itself in the way your body melded with his, as if sticking to his side like gum would keep him around forever. He brought his hand up to the small of your back, holding you steady.

“Yeah, but we’ve stuck together,” he murmured into your hair, the scent of your lavender shampoo mixing in with cigarette smoke coming from a neighbor. “That's all that matters, right?”

You nodded. “Sure, but I can’t help but wish things were different sometimes. Not with us, necessarily, just—”

Peter cut you off. “The spider thing?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a dry laugh, pushing the ice cream around with your spoon. “To wish for that, even when you help so many people… it’s selfish, isn’t it?”

“Not selfish,” the brunette countered. “You worry and so do I, even if I won’t admit it all the time. It’s normal”

“Right, sure, I guess it is normal.”

“You don't have to worry,” he reassured you. “I’ve got you, always.” Peter leaned over and peppered kisses around your face, eliciting a dulcet laugh that lightened his mood. “We won’t always have it figured out, sweetheart, but we’re meant to stick together.”

You nodded and grinned when he pulled you closer to him, his hand curling up against your waist. The feeling of his warm palm on your skin washed a wave of comfort over you, crawling up your limbs and nestling deep in your body. Sounds of chattering and bells on bicycles ringing floated around the night air, and whatever uneasiness you felt earlier was gone now.

If Peter could be anything to you, he’d always be your voice of reason.

© 2023 KIWICIDER - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours.

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #the amazing spider man #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter angst #tasm peter x you #spider man x y/n #spider man x reader #tasm peter parker x you

[mundoperla]

Could I get some hcs for killers with a gn scene survivor?

I'd love it if you would add Frank from the legion, Ji-woon, and the oni cause they're my absolute faves!!:D

(and any other killers you'd like to add cause I I absolutely ♥️ your hcs!!)

wishing all my scene baddies a blessed day yall are so cute ilysm <3

i also know very little abt the subculture itself so bear with me <\3

𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘚𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦! 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘚/𝘖.

• dbd killer(s) x g/n reader

— killer(s) included;; Frank Morrison, Ji-Woon Hak, Kazan Yamaoka

‼️warnings;; none!

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖔𝖓

༻ He thinks both you and your style are adorable!

༻ The bright colors of your outfits and/or hair make the dullness of the realm much nicer.

༻ Frank will listen to your music and enjoy a few songs, he’ll even put you on some of his own favorite bands in return. Think of it as some sort of bonding experience.

༻ He’s always trying to spot you dueing trials since it wasn’t hard, not just because we wants to know where you are but to also get a glimpse of the outfits you put together pre-trial.

༻ Occasionally will steal an arm warmer or a bracelet of yours to keep to himself. Will he wear it? Absolutely not but he’ll keep it tucked under his jacket for saftey <3

༻ Joey saw him wear one of your invader zim bracelets and Frank nearly went into cardiac arrest when it was mentioned

𝕵𝖎-𝖂𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝕳𝖆𝖐—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

༻ Unapologetically steals your accessories and wears them despite your protests.

༻ Ji-Woon is quite literally obsessed with you and will ask you back to back questions about your style and it’s music.

༻ Takes inspo from your favorite bands/songs for a potential album but he wont tell you that.

༻ If he’s not stealing something of yours he’s offering you something of his! Ji-Woon is decked in bright luminescent colors and he isn’t going to let them collect dust.

༻ He’s enabling you to pile as much as possible for the purpose of being as flamboyant as possible, y’all are gonna be twinning ALWAYS

༻ Speaking of twinning — he’s always asking to dress you or for you to dress him.

༻ As stated earlier, he is obsessed with your subculture and wants to be involved 1000%.

༻ “ IDC IF YOU’RE GONNA BE REPAIRING GENERATORS THE WHOLE TIME PUT THE MATCHING GIR HAT ON‼️‼️‼️ “

𝕶𝖆𝖟𝖆𝖓 𝖄𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖔𝖐𝖆—𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖓𝖎

༻?????????? what

༻He doesn’t understand at all and he will not ask further questions.

༻ Yes he is very curious. No he will not vocalize anything, he’s too prideful to admit any type of confusion.

༻ The most you’ll get from Kazan is a slight turn of his head when he doesn’t understand your music. (be patient hes OLD)

༻Kazan wont pay attention to you but internally he finds you very very cute!

༻Yes your choices in fashion and music is very different from what he has seen and heard in his time, but it is also very pleasant to him.

༻ He wont vocalize this but he thinks you’re super cool wearing such bright colors. But what he adores the most is the way you do your hair.

༻ Dyed or not he loves the way you wear it, the additions of small clips here and there add to the aesthetic and he loves it.

#dbd imagines #frank morrison x reader #legion x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #the oni x reader #ji woon x reader #ji woon hak x reader #the trickster x reader #trickster x reader #dbd fanfic #dbd headcanons

[leviathans-watching]

Diavolo fluff please!! I love him so much and I think I’ve read each and every diavolo fic on tumblr.

[P.S. drink water and don’t forget to take a break]

diavolo proposing

includes: diavolo x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .4k | rated t | m.list

a/n: i love him too so i hope you enjoy!! take care of yourself too <33 my inbox is open to req, leave feedback, or chat, so come say hello!!

please reblog :3

“wow, diavolo, the sunset is stunning!” you take in all of the vibrant colors, eyes wide. your gaze is completely focused on the scene in front of you, the reflection of it on the water. when diavolo had suggested the lake getaway, you’d been all for it, and you were so happy you’d been able to go.

“not as stunning as something else i see,” diavolo’s voice is low, catching your attention. you turn, confused, then gasp. he’s on one knee, looking at you carefully.

“is this-” you choke out, and diavolo nods.

“it is. i, uh, i had a whole speech prepared, but what it boils down to is this: mc, i love you. please make me the happiest demon in the world and marry me.”

“yes, god, yes,” you whisper, giving him your hand. he slides on the brilliant ring, kissing your knuckles. “the ring is beautiful.”

“it was my parents’,” diavolo says, standing. “they’d want you to have it.”

your eyes fill with tears, but you determinedly blink them back, reaching out to cup his face. the red and gold in your ring compliment him perfectly. “i love you,” you say, then crush him into a kiss.

“i love you too,” he says, pulling back after a few moments. “so much. i’m sorry for forgetting my speech.”

“it’s okay,” you say. “it was perfect.”

“i’m glad,” diavolo says, kissing you again. it’s tender, this time, sweet and warm. it’s like he’s trying to convey just how much he loves you through his lips alone. “thank you for saying yes.”

“did you think i was going to refuse?”

“no,” diavolo says, “but i was nervous anyway!”

“you’re cute,” you say, and he smiles. “oh my god, i can’t believe we’re fiances! what is everyone going to say? ugh, lucifer is going to kill me!”

“no, he’s not,” diavolo soothes. “he helped me put this all together. i think i’m going to ask him to be my best man. that is, unless you want him?”

you laugh. “no, you can have him. i’m a little surprised barbatos didn’t get the role.”

“i offered,” diavolo admits, “but he declined. no hard feelings though, i was pretty sure he would.”

“that does sound like him,” you agree. “but that was sweet of lucifer to help.”

“it was,” diavolo says, “and as much as i love him, i can think of some other things we can do that don’t involve one of my oldest friends!”

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

#obey me #obey me game #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x you #diavolo obey me #obey me diavolo #diavolo x you #diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #diavolo x gn!reader #obey me fluff #obey me cute #obey me ask #lord diavolo #leviswriting #leviswriting-obeyme #underratedbitch-number13 #answered asks #omswd #swdom #swd om #om swd

[mekkanicalsol]

[Draft Intro] Implemented name input, figured out unskippable scenes. There’s poor grammar there yes I know but this isn’t a final product I’ll fix things up I prommy

I had my plans for it posted on twitter but I’ll relay them here once more:

• Will work exclusively on 6 routes in correspondence to the bosses in MM1. (Elec, Cut, Guts, Bomb, Fire, Ice) Might be funny if I did a game for each group of bosses IF I’m feeling up to it.

•Alternatively, I could go with 3 RMs from 1 and 3 RMs from 2, but I’ll run a poll later on which ones would be most desired.

•Might just go with a general black and white with accent-color scheming for all of the visuals because coloring everything would be time consuming.

•Character portraits will also likely be in B&W save for an accent color to help them stand out from the BG. Will include CGs.

•Protagonist/player is GN. Might have to come up with a design for them for CGs OR make the CGs exclusively within the first person POV, or both.

•Thinking of each route having a good, neutral, and bad ending.

•Choosing a RM to pursue might be formatted like how the games will show the bosses in a menu for you to choose from rather than go through with an entire story with all of them at once. This is a hard MAYBE though.

•Will likely ask for help on script writing and editing, etc. Suggestions are also welcome.

•ALSO will likely ask for help when it comes to art and backgrounds.

This is being made on CloudNovel, so a reasonable amount of features may or may not be limited.

Title pending. Here’s a look at the start screen. Graphic design is my passion.

#visual novel #wip #mega man #A Totally Cool Robot Master Date Sim

[alohajun]

♡ GOLDFISH ATTENTION SPAN — JANG YUBIN

yubin x gn!reader | wc : 1.3k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, boarding school au, tooth-rotting fluff, petnames (love, sweetpea), mentions of medicine, tutor to bestie to lover, essays and math x_x, a kiss scene (omg scandalous ik) | request : hey loki! i know you mainly write for trsr and enha, i was wondering if you could write a fluffy tutor to lovers fic for yubin from mirae? if not, that’s perfectly fine <3 @yogurteume

“hi, i’m y/n. thanks for offering to tutor me. i really hope it’s no trouble.”

you bowed politely as the tall male entered your dorm, greeting you with a cute smile which made your heart skip a beat — or maybe two.

“i’m jang yubin, and it’s no trouble, really! anything for a classmate.” he waved off your thanks, taking a seat as he prepared his things. “miss kwon says you have the potential to get a scholarship to yonsei university.”

“oh? did she?”

“she’s said the same thing to me, too. let’s study hard and get into yonsei together!”

a smile adorned your face at the male’s words, finding his enthusiasm totally contagious. you always had issues with focusing, resulting in you zoning out during lessons, and thus, missing out on the work. all the student tutors your teacher recommended were never this excited to work with you, and it made you think if things with this tutor would be any different.

will you give up on me halfway, just like the others, jang yubin?

it was one week of tutoring you, and jang yubin was still showing up for your lessons. there wasn’t much progress, but yubin would not give up that easily.

“this is pointless. drafting a ten-thousand-word essay is pointless. i can’t deal with this now … or ever. i’ll just become a stri–” you whined, surprised when yubin threw himself against you, slapping his hand over your mouth as he widened his eyes in horror.

“not in the library, y/n! have a filter, would you?!” he scolded, playfully flicking your forehead. “you can do this, okay? trust me.” yubin slowly took his hand away from your mouth, giving you an encouraging smile as he nodded.

you returned the smile. “i trust you. thanks for helping me out, yubin-ah,” you thanked, linking your arms with his as you looked over the books on the table. “if i’m gonna pass this test, it’s gonna be because of you.”

“we haven’t started studying yet, y/n.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “let’s just go through the work today and see what areas you don’t understand, okay?” yubin smiled, ruffling your hair at the way you looked at him. “and if you understand the basics well, i’ll let you use my pretty colored pens you like to make your notes,” he explained, earning a grin from you.

“yes, score! let’s get started!”

yubin traced the words with his pencil. “yep, so when the positive moves to the other side like this, it becomes a negative. but if it just moves within, it remains positive,” he explained, looking at you to make sure you were listening.

he snickered at the way you were leaning your head on your hand, eyes fluttered close. if there was one thing he learnt within the two weeks of tutoring you, it was that you had the attention span of a goldfish — and you could sleep anywhere at any time.

and just like he did normally, yubin reached out to pat your head, running his fingers through your hair to wake you up. you sheepishly smiled as your eyes opened, meeting yubin’s kind gaze and apologizing softly before rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“are you getting enough sleep, y/n?” he inquired, a tinge of worry clear in his tone as he looked at you. “you’ve been falling asleep during our lessons a lot these days.”

your brows furrowed, the question taking you off guard. your tutors rarely cared about you — only scolding you when you fell asleep during lessons before complaining to your teacher and giving up.

“i’ve been getting the night shifts at work, and the early morning classes don’t help, so i’m struggling a little,” you replied, looking at your book when you felt yubin’s eyes on you. “nothing big, though!” you waved it off, tracing random numbers as you pretended to study.

“do you have work today, too?” yubin inquired, his smile never fading, even for a second. “you have an exam tomorrow, you know? we can’t have my y/n falling asleep in the middle of their exam.” he laughed, avoiding the playful punch you threw his way.

“i do. in three hours, actually.”

“i’ll cover your shift for you. just stay home and study.”

your eyes widened at his words, shaking your head vigorously as you declined his offer. “no, no. it’s completely fine!” you waved your hands. “i won’t fall asleep. i’ll down three espressos as soon as i wake up. you don’t have to do that.”

“i wasn’t offering, love.” yubin chuckled, poking the side of your head. “i was telling you. i will cover your shift so you can study and get some rest before the exam.” despite the smile on his face, his strict tone told you there was no arguing with him.

“alright, alright.” you surrendered, nudging the male when he smiled victoriously. “thank you, yubin-ah. i owe you one.” you leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek as a token of gratitude.

“if that’s your way of thanking me, i would’ve taken up your shifts two weeks ago.”

“y/n … sweet pea, when was the last time you left your desk?” a very concerned yubin would ask when he came to see you after coming back.

your assignment was due in a week, and yubin was an absolute angel in helping you out through every step. so when the weekend came where he was supposed to visit his parents, you urged him to focus on his family for the two days, letting him know you could handle the work — after all, you had a lot of time.

well, unluckily for you, the two days without yubin were when everything went downhill.

your teacher sent everyone an email stating they were collecting the assignments after the weekend, before also mentioning a few more pointers that needed to be included in order to get a passing grade on your assignment.

but of course, you being you, didn’t want to interrupt yubin’s weekend with his family, so you took up everything yourself, pulling constant all-nighters to work on the assignment that was due the next day.

“i don’t know. you should ask miss kwon,” you grumbled under your breath, typing furiously on your laptop. “she’s the reason i’m stuck at my desk, anyway.”

yubin sighed, noting the red splotches on your wrist, realizing you were forcing yourself to stay awake by pinching yourself. his gaze darted towards the orange medicine container and the countless power drinks that littered the floor.

“y/n, take a break now. i’m here, right? let’s just rest for an hour.”

you shook your head, scoffing as the thought of resting sounded ridiculous to you. “no, i can’t just ‘rest’, yubin! my teacher thought it was logical to pull back a deadline by a week and add even more pointers. i need to do well if i have to get into yonsei with you, and i know i’m lacking but–” you blabbered, anxious about the deadline that was approaching with each passing minute.

before you could register it, yubin held your face between his hands, pulling you closer as he softly placed a kiss on your lips. the kiss took you by surprise, but you couldn't help but chase his lips as he pulled away. your eyes were wide as yubin looked at you with a nervous smile, trying to read your expressions.

“i’ll stay up with you and help you with the assignment.” he promised, softly grasping your hands, his smile widening when you didn’t deny his touch. “just take a break for an hour, that’s all.”

“y-you are just gonna act all normal with me?” you avoided his gaze, pretending to be annoyed with the way the male kept smiling at you. “after what you just did?”

yubin grinned, pulling on your hands so your face was closer to his. “why? do you want more of that?” he asked, laughing when you pushed him away. “i didn’t want to do it like this, but i really like you, y/n.”

“i really like you too, yubin. and i’ve never been more thankful for my goldfish attention span since i met you because of it.”

© 2022 ALOHAJUN | PLEASE REFRAIN FROM COPYING OR REPOSTING MY WORK WITHIN OR OUTSIDE THIS SITE

#[📝] works #kflixnet #ficscafe #mirae imagines #mirae yubin #yubin imagines #yubin scenarios #jang yubin imagines #jang yubin x reader #jang yubin drabbles #mirae drabbles #yubin fluff #yubin angst #mirae #mirae scenarios #jang yubin #yubin #mirae kpop #mirae reactions

[avrablake]

Hi rainstorm

8, 15, 29, 48

From this game

Thanks so much Sleepy Dear!

8. Oldest WIP

My oldest active wip is actually my current one, Beyond the Darkness. The idea started as a fanfic many many years ago. I picked it back up 3 years ago and started over from scratch to turn it into an original story.

My oldest abandoned wip that I might actually come back to someday is a portal fantasy involving music as magic, elves with multi-colored hair, and ancient magic beings that transform into animal forms. This was very much my baby at one point and I would like to pick it up again someday.

15. How do you deal with writer’s block?

Sometimes I throw on music to distract myself and then word vomit onto a page. Sometimes I try writing from prompts to get new ideas or get myself unstuck. Sometimes I work on a different wip.

Usually I just take a break from writing though. Watch some shows I like, listen to my playlists, read some books. Things that can give me inspiration until I feel ready to come back to writing.

29. Favourite villain

Oh gee. Did you know Sleepy Dear that I absolutely love a good villain? Especially sympathetic ones. Give me a villain backstory that shows how they became a villain, that they could have just as easily become heroes under different circumstances.

One of my all-time favorites is Lex Luthor from Smallville. I just love him and his story arc. The fact that he tries so so hard to be better, to be a hero, but no one believes in him. Only Clark believes in him but living up to Clark's view of him, along with everyone's hate for him, is exhausting. And so his friendship with Clark slowly poisons him, fills him with jealousy, and guilt, and self-hate, which he turns into hatred for Clark. And eventually he's just so unrecognizable from who he was at the beginning of the show you can only see him as the villain he's become.

Another favorite is the morally gray Su-won from Akatsuki no Yona. He's definitely an antagonist but it's hard to call him a villain. What he did was terrible, but he was also not wrong. The country is better off because of it. Like Yona you find that you want to hate him but you can't. He's not a bad person and he is most definitely a good king. And those moments when the heroes have to team up with him. Or when they have to admit that they respect him. Love love love.

Another favorite villain is Azula from AtlA. She's intelligent, and unapologetic, and charismatic, and Powerful. There isn't even the slightest hint that the writers have a redemption arc in store for her (until the GNs) and yet she's still sympathetic in the last season because of course she would be. In a different way from Zuko. But she doesn't want to be sympathetic. She doesn't want to be redeemed because she doesn't want to think that she needs it. I love her your honor.

48. What’s the most self-insert character/scene you’ve ever written?

All of my characters are a self-insert. They are all different pieces of me.

Thea is my anxiety and perfectionism and all the times my stupid stupid emotions overflow out of my eyes.

Nix is my avoidance and my self-loathing and my tendency to push people away.

Gram is me when you hurt someone I care about. I will fight you.

Kaori's issues with her father are actually all my issues with my mother.

Ryu is who I was in high school, trying so desperately to be someone I wasn't that I forgot who I was.

On a lighter note I wrote so many self-insert fanfics in middle school. They were fun and indulgent and what made me want to write my own original stories someday.

#ask game #there's a reason my characters are all so angsty #oops I let my inner demons out again #someone clean this mess up

[mofffun]

how i look at Rita's relationship with the others

something i noticed is that Rita's just there, a lot (more than I expected)? like the plot would demand them to be there as a witness or the script would give them exposition lines, in turn giving them quite a few interactions.

Gira:

I think in-show Gira should be the youngest followed by Rita, and among them, Rita should be the latest king to take the mantle (even though she might not be that much younger than Himeno or Yanma).

I think these are two are similar, as they are both portayed as the 'righteous' character. They both act as 'King' because of / to protect somebody else. Even though its their focus episode, Gira and Rita only had brief a dialogue, with Rita under a presumption. Rita attempting to "balance the scales" for Gira in ep8 is a more meaningful scene for the two. Rita feels a sense of responsiblity to control the Gira situation (and to find out the truth of Gira's kidnapping). Gira came to respect or learn a lesson from the other 3 kings but there never was that animosity targeted at Rita. But then… Rita still doesn't know Gira might be the one person they tried that don't hate them…

Rita's impact on Gira is seen in his speech in the cell in ep5, and the sparkles in his eyes when Rita delivered a just judgment. Gira's impact on Rita is through Morfonia that Rita begins to open up.

These two are still interacting indirectly for now and I want to see them adopt each other. Some people are shipping it but I don't see it, they are more sibling vibes to me.

Yanma:

The natural antagonism between a deliquent and an officer of the law. I need their buddy cop road trip episode. They don't like each other but have a mutal respect. ep11 illustrates the divide between Yanma and Rita. They are both pracitcal-minded, yet appraoched problems from two sides of the law. They are both stubborn yet they can work efficiently in ep12.

Himeno:

i'm not immune to heated drama between women (gn).

Okay this is really interesting because Erica and Yuzuki are friends IRL and the the stage shows has been feeding us so it's easy to project that onto the characters. From what little we've seen so far I love how Himeno is the one inviting Rita into the conversation. If you don't count Kaguragi's "Rita-tono" then Himeno is the only other royal that called them by their name. They are so going to bond over Moffun please bring them to Moffunland Himeno-sama we're counting on you.

For real, so far I don't think they have much of a relationship to speak of? They barely know each other and you could say ep5's probably the first time Himeno set foot in Gokkan. I think Himeno sees Rita as 'better an ally than an enemy' but is stunned by their screams at times. Rita… Rita counts themselves lucky they don't get sensory overload each time they go to Ishabana. Can you imagine the dissonace between 'someone go do that for ME' Himeno Ran and 'I have to take care of everything but myself no matter how hard it gets' Rita Kaniska though.

With them it could be the extrovert adopts introvert trope, but classic's classic (Himeno go make them more wagamama)

Kaguragi:

They are platform boots shopping besties. They stand next to each other a lot because sentai color-coding. WHY ARE THEY SEEMINGLY FRIENDS (What's the deal with Kaguragi and EVERYONE)

I saw some tweets that had definitely affected how I look at their first meeting. The idea that Rita had to make an official publicity tour around Chikyuu after their accession is hilarious. Kagu said to Racles that Rita has a reputation of being 'cold as ice' - I can't even tell if this man is making that up or if he has a file on every king, or he's just repeating the general concensus.

Rita does not oppose to being dragged into Kaguragi's schemes (though I doubt anyone could do that sucessfully). Do they know they are being used in Kagu and Racles's gambits? Can they and do they want to, do something about it?

Racles:

Their relationship, if there exist of, is so fascinating. Rita's not the first Gokkan King Racles had to deal with. Racles has Rita (Gokkan King)'s direct number. Rita slapped that bitch.

Racles see the Gokkan King as another cog in his scheme, another chess piece, if however that worked with the previous king, or they simply hadn't threatened Racles power, would that work with Rita?

Morfonia:

Only after "potential successor" is pointed out I notice Rita is quite indulgent of her? I mean you could read it this way, but I don't think Rita would stop her from lazing around if Morfonia can come up with a citation from the rulebook.

I'm not sure about the age gap here because IRL Morfonia's actor is 9 years older but the character looks at max Rita's age if not younger?? Either way Gokkan's throne probably has a fixed term---oh i derail

okay my headcanon is that they grew up (like ~age 10 onwards)/entered the academy together and later apprenticed to the previous ruler as successor candidates. that dynamic probably hadn't changed since day one just some immature rivalry subsided.

From the frivolous way Morfonia speaks to Rita (addresses their first name without/instead of title), you'd thought they are the closest among the King-Retainer pairs, but they still seem just co-workers? Morfonia refuses to work overtime but genuinely cares about Rita when they're hurt.

#disclaimer: these are very fragmented thoughts and- these aren't my best. but i'm jotting it down anyway #kingoh meta #rita kaniska

[maya-hawke]

BARRY KEOGHAN as DRUIG Eternals (2021) dir. Chloé Zhao

#eternals #druig #eternalsedit #marveledit #filmedit #druigedit #eternalssource #mcufam #dailyavengers #marvellegends #dailymarvelgifs #marveladdicts #filmgifs #moviegifs #chewieblog #userbbelcher #useraurore #usercroft #*mine #this scene was so hard to color gn </3

[with-love-from-hell]

Sanctuary

{ft. Diavolo}

Part 3 of the Fortification Series  (based on this request)

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

Written for a GN!MC, though the partner is written as male.

WC: ~4.1k

TRIGGER WARNING: Each part contains graphic depictions of various types of abuse, please see specific content warnings for each individual part.

Cw: Physical abuse, strangulation, emotional abuse, emotional neglect, manipulation, gaslighting, graphic violence and gore, catatonia, anxiety, PTSD, vague bath scene, ch. 16 spoilers, urine mention

Series Masterlist

Note: Though I do have a masters degree in Psychology and clinical training in treating survivors of abuse, I am not your therapist, nor is this fic intended to take the place of professional help. If you are experiencing any type of abuse, please seek support from a professional. Utilize the Victim Connect Resource Center to get connected to the appropriate helpline.

Thunder rippled through the night sky, shaking the crystal windows of the Demon Lord’s castle. It had been centuries since the Devildom experienced a storm of this caliber, and the future king couldn’t help but worry about how his precious exchange students were faring. He paced around his office nervously, awaiting Barbatos’ report on whether or not Devildom should follow severe weather procedures. 

Diavolo stopped in front of the large windows that overlooked the city and gazed out to the purple sky. Purgatory Hall stood like a beacon in the darkness, the light-colored brick standing out amongst the rest of the brooding architecture in Devildom. His mind wandered to you- wondering if you were alright. 

Did thunderstorms scare them back in the human world? It wouldn’t come as a surprise. The ever timid of the three humans seemed to be afraid of their own shadow on most days- making adjusting to life amongst demons particularly hard. 

Diavolo sighed, mindlessly tracing his finger on the glass. The condensation left a trail of water droplets along the glass. He hoped you were doing okay with the other exchange students. Simeon had earlier informed him of their intention to hold a small gathering in the lounge at Purgatory Hall, so he knew you must be there. Certainly it was closer than the House of Lamentation...If only he could just sneak out the doors and-

“My lord, If you continue touching the windows, they will streak.” Barbatos appeared in the doorway to his office suddenly, startling the prince. His voice held a firm warning, though Diavolo knew there was little Barbatos could do to him just for dirtying a window with his fingers. 

Regardless, he stepped away and turned toward the butler. He put his hands in the pocket of his robe, fidgeting with the loose fabric fibers of the interior. He gave a fake smile that was easily readable, indicating he must be anxious about the weather and the foreign students. Barbatos sighed, his voice taking a softer tone upon recognizing the emotion in his eyes. “Sir, the weather is not severe enough to call for a lockdown, but it would still be unwise for any individual to be out in this type of weather. I suggest you stay here despite your concerns for the exchange students.” 

Diavolo blushed lightly. He hated how easily Barbatos could read him sometimes. “Very well.” 

As Barbatos turned to take his leave, Diavolo turned back toward the window. Another sigh began to pass his lips, but immediately halted upon seeing a familiar figure stumbling toward the castle, battling the wind and rain as they moved. Though the heavy rain obscured some of his vision, he was able to make out the details of your hair underneath the shall you wrapped tightly around yourself- which looked vaguely like the one Simeon was usually seen wearing. 

He immediately turned from the window and bolted through the maze-like castle, blowing past Barbatos and numerous little D’s, who called out to him as he ran past. As he finally reached the main hall, he heard what sounded like the heavy doorknockers pounding against the thick wooden doors of the castle entrance. Diavolo felt his heart skip a beat as he rushed to the doors, flinging them open as quickly as he could. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect when he finally laid eyes on your form before him. For some reason, he had been so excited to see you- despite the fact that you being out in this weather must not have meant any good news would likely follow. But all the excitement he had faded away when he was met with your petrified eyes. The terror worn on your face was evident, even through the effects of the wind and rain. He stood frozen before you, unsure of how to respond- and your lack of voice did not help matters. 

“Young Master, what are you doing?!” Barbatos’ panicked voice manifested from down the hall as he finally caught up to him. Barbatos paused, seeing Diavolo holding the Castle doors ajar as rain whipped into the castle from outside. With a frustrated sigh, Barbatos approached, though the color drained from his face as he saw what- or rather, who- Diavolo had been gawking at. 

Barbatos quickly led you inside, offering you to sit on one of the plush benches in the entry way while he fetched some towels. You obliged, but said nothing. Your body trembled with anxiety, adrenalin, and the freezing feeling of the frigid rainwater that had soaked your clothes on the agonizing walk over to the castle. 

You had done something to upset your boyfriend. What you did, you had no idea- but the grip he held on your throat as he yelled in your face was enough to tell you you had crossed a line. The occurrence happened often enough that you often lost track of how many times he had put his hands on you in one way or another. You hugged yourself, trying desperately to stop the trembling you experienced in reliving the horrid scene over and over again.

Without hesitation, Diavolo removed his large plush robe and draped it around your shoulders. He would be slightly cold until he could replace the robe with one of his silk shirts, but your comfort was more important to him. You nuzzled into the soft fleece material, finally feeling the emotions from today well up and overflow out of your body. Tears began streaming down your cheeks as you choked back sobs, finally feeling safe enough to express the ache in your heart. 

Diavolo widened his eyes, unsure again of how to respond. He tried to think of something to say, but words evaded him as you relentlessly sobbed into his robe. He slowly reached out a large hand, pressing it to your shoulder gently- as if to test your reaction to his touch. When you gave no response, he moved closer to you; eventually enveloping you into a tight embrace as you cried. Diavolo rubbed your back gently cradling you into his bare chest. He offered gentle words of reassurance that you were safe and secure in his arms.

When Barbatos finally re-entered the hall, he was shocked to see you clinging to diavolo. You had been so timid around everyone in Devildom since you got here, but especially the future king. Not that he blamed you for that though- Diavolo was a particularly large demon and was supposed to be intimidating to others. But now, seeing you drape yourself over him in such a vulnerable position had him wondering what led you to this in the first place. 

Barbatos motioned for Diavolo to follow, and in one sweeping motion, you were hoisted into the prince’s arms. He wrapped your legs around his mid-section and encouraged you to hold on tightly to his neck as they lead you to a guest bedroom. Once you were set down on the bed, Barbatos noted that they didn’t have any fresh clothes for you, so he would need to dry your current clothes. He also noted that you should take a warm bath regardless to get your body temperature back up, while he would take to making you some calming tea and biscuits. 

You tensed at the idea of needing to shed your clothes, but as Diavolo’s robe dampened around you, you knew he was right. Diavolo noted he would get you something to wear while your clothing was dried, but before he could move, you gripped his hand in yours and pulled delicately back. 

He paused, seeing the terror-filled glint return to your eyes. “Mc- what do you need?” 

You bit your lip for a moment and look down, your damp hair cascading in front of your face. Diavolo tucked some strands back, trying to look into your eyes to figure out what you must be trying to silently convey to him. It was in this moment that he noticed the deep purple bruises lining your neck just under your earlobes. His heart sank at the sight, feeling sorrow bubble up as he realized you had come here to escape something. 

Did Lucifer or one of his brothers step out of line again? No- they wouldn’t dare hurt you after what had happened with Belphegor. Perhaps you were cornered by a lower demon? Oh, he absolutely would make them suffer a fate worse than death if they dared lay a hand on you. 

A small squeak from your vocal cords caught his attention, and he shook the thoughts away for now as he fully concentrated on you. 

“I just...I don’t want to be alone.” You whimper, catching his eyes. 

Diavolo nodded, stroking your cheek gently with his hand.  “Do you want me to- I mean, I don’t know if you would want me to per say- but shall I accompany you while you bathe? I can ensure to turn away as you undress and pour enough soap into the basin so you’re not as exposed.” 

His nervousness betrayed him as he blabbered out the words, feeling them come out of his mouth like vomit. You took a moment to consider his offer, and gave a meek nod. You had been intimidated by him when you first came to Devildom, but as you got to know him and spent one-on-one time with him, you found yourself drawn to how...well... unking-like he was. He knew how to have fun, and was a really just a kid at heart. And his passion for building connections between the worlds was something you admired. He was kind, gentle, and caring- something you were desperate to have in your own relationship. Perhaps it was this longing that brought you to the steps of the castle, rather than back to the HOL with the brothers. You knew the brothers cared about you, but something about Diavolo’s aura always pulled you back in. 

As promised, he turned away from you while you undressed and bathed. He sat cross-legged on the floor next to the basin as you relaxed in the warm bath. While he wasn’t trying to gawk at your nude body, he couldn’t help but notice the plethora of scars and bruises on the areas of your skin that was now exposed to air. He found himself connecting the fact that you always wore modest clothing to these scars and bruises- and he was worried about the fact that you did so as long as he had known you. With a deep breath, he finally decided to ask you about it. 

He felt his heart pounding deafeningly in his ears as he asked the question.  “Mc, may I ask you something?”

You met his stare, anxiousness rising in your chest at his inquiry. “Y-yeah...of course...” 

He nodded, dropping his gaze away. “Those bruises...who gave them to you?” 

You freeze, staring at him with wide eyes. You had told yourself you hoped he wouldn’t have noticed...but part of you knew that was a lie. You did want him to notice- to rescue you from the abuse you continued to suffer in Devildom- an experience that had persisted in the human world long before with the man you you found yourself entangled with. A deep sigh escaped your lungs as you readied yourself to tell Diavolo about what he had done to you- how cold and distant he always was, how he would manipulate you into thinking everything bad that happened in his life was your fault, how he would take his anger out on you by throttling you until you couldn’t breath, almost killing you numerous times in the same way Belphegor did all those months ago. 

Diavolo was absolutely livid at hearing all the tortures you had gone through. He’d have been lying if he said he enjoyed your boyfriend’s company in the exchange program- he always felt something was off about him, and he did notice the ways he would talk down to you a bit in the past, but he never would have guessed it could have been as bad as this. He gripped your soapy hand, and made a promise to you- that you would never have to see that scum again. He would be removed from the program immediately, and you would live the rest of your time in Devildom in relative peace. 

As he helped you out of the bath and dried you off, Barbatos came with a smaller dry robe- one that wouldn't completely swallow you in its size. He gifted you your tea and biscuits, and assisted you into bed. Before Diavolo snuck under the covers next to you, he pulled Barbatos aside and whispered to him a command- one that would ensure your continued safety- even after you were no longer in Devildom.

----------------------------------------------------------

As he opened his eyes, the man’s vision needed to adjust to the dark, dank room he was in. He was barely able to make out the dirty brick walls lining the tiny cell he found himself in- the scuttling of demonic rats able to be heard echoing throughout the chambers underneath the castle. He pushed himself up off the floor, teetering as he got to his feet. Had he gotten drunk? did he get knocked out? he couldn’t quite recall. 

The distant roar of thunder could be heard in the distance. He had remembered it had be pouring rain- that’s right! He vaguely remembered you running out on him after you had insulted his cooking in front of the angels. The audacity Simeon had in saying no one’s cooking compared to that of Barbatos- and the way you chuckled along with the statement had his blood boiling as if he was in the same situation again. 

He wanted to teach you a lesson- one that he had to reiterate over and over again. He was your everything, and you were nothing. To insult him, over step your bounds, or to diminish him in any way was ignoring all he had done for you, and it could not go without reminding. He was much stronger than you, after all. It was pretty easy to put you back in line- thought you were straying a lot more since getting teleported to this shitty world. 

The man wrinkled his nose, finally absorbing the scent of mildew in the cellars. The last thing he remembered was being called for a meeting at the demon lord’s castle, but after that his mind was a blur. He remembered having to bear this atrocious weather in order to get here- not understanding why that stupid prince always put people out of their way for his every need. What he wouldn’t give to have that much power...

The sound of a door creaking open and slamming nearby stirred him from his thoughts. He approached what he believed was the cell door, peaking through the small barred window to try to see who- or what- had entered and was now coming toward him. A dim light and some muffled voices could be heard in the distance. 

The footfalls could be heard faltering as they approached the cell door. He leaned back, eager for the door to be opened so he could get answers to his questions. A pair of ruby eyes met his through the window on the cell door, and a glint of...something...passed through them. He couldn’t quite tell their intentions, but they looked angry. 

The door swung open and the candle illuminated the figure before him. The man scoffed, crossing his arms as he was met with the silhouette of the eldest brother of sin. He beckoned him to exit the cell, but he stood his ground. Of course it had to be this clown. 

After a moment of silent stares between the three men, he finally spoke, irritated with the lack of explanation for his current situation. 

“So, are you gonna tell me what the hell I’m-” 

“Silence.” A deep voice hissed from behind Lucifer. The man snapped his mouth shut, fear suddenly coursing through him as he was met with another pair of eyes. The yellow light of the candle illuminated the golden irises, as well as the gold jewelry  adorning the prince’s chest and horns. As he stepped further into the light, the man could see his sharp fangs, piercing white- as if he had just gotten them professionally polished.

The man cleared his throat, attempting to swallow back his fear and the clearly perturbed prince and his henchmen. “W-what do you want from-” 

In a flash, Diavolo had the puny human by the neck, slamming him so hard against the brick wall that- not only did his skull crack but the brick behind his head crumbled upon the impact, dust flaring around the room. 

“I said, silence.” He hissed again, squeezing his neck harder. The man choked and sputtered as he fought for air, the tips of his shoes desperate to make contact with the ground. 

Diavolo scoffed at the human’s refusal to remain quiet as he waited for a status report from Barbatos. While the human was unconscious, Barbatos had taken to interviewing the rest of the brothers, the angels, and Solomon about what they had noticed. He shook his head, figuring the formalities could be forgone just this once. 

“You have a lot of nerve, abusing someone you shallowly claim to love.” He snarled through gritted teeth. “Tell me, how long did you think it would be before we caught on?” 

Diavolo released his grip slightly on the mans neck, allowing air to enter his lungs. He coughed as he spoke lies through his teeth. “I- I don’t know what y-you’re talking a-about.” 

Lucifer let out an unamused scoff. “It appears as if he thinks we’re stupid.” 

Diavolo shook his head, his eyes piercing as he stared daggers at the man. “You can deny what you want, but the bruises all over their body tell all.” 

The mans eyes widened, realizing that you had fled to the castle that night- probably blabbering to Diavolo what he had done. He cursed under his breath, trying to get the demon lord to relinquish his grasp. 

Diavolo smirked, finding it amusing how the small human thought he could just get away with his atrocious actions. He changed his hand’s positions onto the mans hair, dragging him out of the cell as he screamed out in pain. Lucifer looked down on him as he paced behind Diavolo, disgusted with the words he was using to berate the future king. For now, he would restrain himself- but he couldn’t help the evil grin that spread across his lips for the fate this disgusting human would encounter for having ever dared laid hands on a member of his- and through association, Diavolo’s- family. 

The man was thrown onto the floor of a larger cell, tears flooding from his eyes as he rubbed the spot where the hair follicles threatened to detach from his head. Before he could process what was happening, the double doors were slammed and he faced the two demons before him. Lucifer stood in the background, seemingly just granting audience to what Diavolo was about to do. 

“Now, I will ask you again- Did you really think you could get away with hurting one which I hole dear?” Diavolo smiled, but behind it his eyes shown intense wrath. 

The man scoffed, deciding to double down. “I told ya, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

At his refusal to take accountability, Diavolo’s wicked smile turned into a displeased frown. He nodded, walking towards the man with intent. He cracked his knuckles as he moved toward him, and with each approaching step, the man scrambled backwards until he hit the wall. On his attempt to stand, Diavolo hook-kicked his knee, sending the bones cascading through his skin in an instant. 

The man howled in pain as he fell to the floor. He tried to coddle his wound, but only screeched louder as the pain increased with his touch. 

Diavolo tutted, kneeling before him. “I will give you once more chance to tell the truth, and perhaps I will let you leave peacefully...As long as you promise never to set foot near them again.”

The man glowered at the future king, and boldly decided to spit on his face.

Lucifer snarled, his demon form unfurling as he stepped forward. After wiping the loogie from his cheek with his thumb, he held up a hand to stop Lucifer. 

“Hmm. Looks like you’ve dug your grave then.” Diavolo snickered, standing and walking away, soon enough standing side-by-side with Lucifer. The two shared a look before turning back to the human with nefarious smiles, causing his heart to leap into his throat. 

“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” He stuttered through ragged breaths, trying to appear more confident than he felt. His pulse quickened as a groaning could be heard in the walls around him, the two demon’s smiles growing wider. 

“Well,” Diavolo chuckled darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I believe it’s almost Henry’s Dinnertime.” 

The man gulped. “H-H-Henry?” 

Lucifer turned and opened one of the double doors, motioning for Diavolo to follow, but he shook his head. “You go on- check on Mc and inform Barbatos of my decision. I’d like to stay a moment longer with our former exchange student.” Lucifer looked uncertain, but closed the door silently. His footsteps could be heard in the distance followed by a door opening and closing. 

Diavolo turned back toward the human before him. It was hard for him to imagine such a spineless bastard having this much power over you, but he knew that his perspective was different. After all, the human was shown just how powerless he actually was in the face of a demon- the second most powerful to ever even exist. 

“It’s a shame, really.” Diavolo mused, tinkering with the friendship bracelet you had made him during the last retreat at the castle. He hadn't taken it off in the months had passed, cherishing the sweet gesture with all of his heart. “I wanted so desperately for us to all have peace. But I am unfortunately reminded how humans can sometimes truly be the scum of the three realms.” 

He turned to meet the man’s terrified eyes, relishing in the fact that he got to see him so scared before his ultimate demise. “The humans like you- they deserve to rot. Which is why their souls come here. After your death though- since you already are here- you will just awaken in the mouth of the basilisk again, and be eaten again- over and over. What a truly awful demise, hmm?” 

The man gulped upon hearing another groan from the walls of the cell; fear rippling through him so fast that he lost control of his bladder. Diavolo shook his head, a hearty laugh rippling through the chamber as the man pissed himself in fear. 

“Do you still feel powerful?” Diavolo growled, leaning into his face as he spoke. “How does it feel to be treated as if you have no more worth than canine feces below a boot?” 

Tears welled in the mans eyes as two giant yellow eyes appeared behind the prince, followed by a deep hiss. He begged, pleaded for Diavolo to release him, making promise after promise, and even confessing to the attrocities of what he had done to you. 

Diavolo merely shook his head in response. “Tsk. You had a chance to beg for mercy, but truth be told, I never planned on offering a shred of it to you. Perhaps that makes us both liars.” 

With the last words that left his lips, Diavolo grinned and spun on his heel. He approached the giant snake. It swayed back and forth, it’s eyes following the prince’s movements, as if waiting for permission to feed. With one last glance at the former exchange student, he whistled. 

The snake’s movements were so quick that the man barely had time to react. One moment, he was shaking on the floor in a pool of his own urine, and the next he had large fangs digging into his flesh. He screamed to no avail, begging for help from someone- anyone- who could hear. But no one would come to help him. His body would be consumed, only to be reincarnated in the dungeon where he had died. The basilisk with the insatiable hunger would consume him again....and again...and again...for however long he decided to keep his deal with the reaper girl going. 13 would truly be a wonderful asset to the exchange program to replace the terrible human. 

He eagerly paced up the stairs back to the main part of the castle. He had left you slumbering peacefully in the guest room, where he was eager to return to snuggle with you throughout the rest of the early morning hours. Thunder roared and lighting crashed outside the windows providing him an odd sense of calm despite the raging weather. You were safe now, and he was excited to see how you would flourish without the threat of abuse looming over your head like a dark cloud. Perhaps the thunderstorm was a blessing in disguise, as it had offered you sanctuary from the real storm you faced in the shadows. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#the fortification series #obey me diavolo #obey me #obey me! #shall we date: obey me #obey me swd #obey me fic #obm diavolo #gn!mc #gn!reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo x gn!mc #obey me diavolo x gn!reader #obm diavolo x reader #obm diavolo x mc #obm diavolo x gn!reader #obm diavolo x gn!mc #obm fic #obm angst #obm hurt/comfort #obey me angst #obey me hurt/comfort #fic #hurt/comfort #angst

[genshinlover101]

S/O taking Ganyu,Jean,Ayaka,Noelle,Ningguang and Yoimiya to a firefly field

This legit JUST popped into my head and I rushed onto your page lol

Taking Genshin Girls to a Field of Fireflies (part 2)

Characters: Ayaka, Noelle x gn!reader

Warnings: none

A/n: I surprisingly have done this idea with three of the same characters, I will do Ayaka and Noelle however :)) I hope the idea is still in your head as it’s been like 3 months probably

Link to Ganyu, Jean, Ningguang’s part

• Being the Shirasagi Himegimi was not an easy role to fill. Ayaka was burdened to carry a heavy load from a young age as the eldest daughter of the Kamisato Clan. So to relax you brought her to an empty field of fireflies.

• Ayaka had always loved things that weren’t available for her. Festivals fascinated her, foreign pizza was delectable, and adventures were solely for her imagination. That was until she met you, to introduce her to many new experiences.

• Ayaka would be amazed, standing still with her mouth wide open as she tried to count the sheer amount of lights that filled the air. She would giggle in excitement after it processed in her mind, such a beautiful sight to behold.

Ayaka followed your fast pace by holding her dress up with her hands as she jogged behind you. “Come on’ hurry, we’ll miss the magic of the show if we’re too slow,” you urged. The sun on the verge of setting revealing the millions of fireflies in the air.

You hopped up an elevated rock, turning to help Ayaka up with your hand out. As she gripped hard you felt how cold she was from the summer breeze. Feeling a little guilty for guiding your princess out to such a secluded place in the wilderness. Although, no matter the circumstances the show would absolutely be worth it.

You two stood hand in hand as the night gave way, thousands of miniature lights turning on all around you two in the grassy field. It felt so surreal as all the little bugs circulated all around you, Ayaka was frozen in place. You couldn’t tell if she was scared or amazed.

The fireflies ignited her face ever so slightly, highlighting her features you felt nothing but love for her at this moment. You couldn’t tell what was prettier, the scene before you or the girl in your hands at this time. “So pretty,” you muttered under your breath.

“Mm,” she hummed in agreeance, her eyes flicking around to see all the little bugs as if she were counting each individual one.

“No, you,” you corrected her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful Ayaka.

Her attention averted to you, a blush on her face. “T-thank you,”was all she could manage to say. Still very foreign to the feeling of her lover’s compliments.

• Noelle was busy training to become one of the Knights of Favonius. So busy in fact, that she often is so diligent with helping others that she neglects her own safety. Admiring you so much, she blindly follows you to a field of fireflies.

• Even if she was still so young, Noelle often was blind to the small things in life. Sure roses are beautiful, but she’s never actually stopped to admire the color, smell the fragrance, or see it bloom. You were here to introduce her to the philosophy ‘stop and smell the roses’.

• Noelle was apprehensive at first, still convinced this was a waste of time when she could be doing laps around Mondstadt. That was until a firefly, looking at its cute little body learned to individualize all the little night lights.

You took Noelle’s hand as you walked to your destination which would be a small grassy field in Mondstadt. It was nearby luckily, but surprisingly the area was desolate of people despite the killer view in your opinion.

As you approached the intended field and the sunset, all the circumstances were fulfilled for a successful night. “Close your eyes,” you told Noelle. She looked at you hesitantly, before she shut her eyes gently.

“I’m trusting you,” she said as you guided her over the small rocks. Once you were in the middle of the field you allowed her to stop. Just a couple more moments then you could reveal your secret to her. You felt so anxious that she wouldn’t like it, after all, she was quite annoyed to have to come out so far when she had so much work.

“Okay open,” you said. As she opened her eyes, she was greeted with thousands of lights before her. The warm summer breeze complimented this scenery well. Her mouth was agape as she did a 360, wandering outwards towards more fireflies. One, in particular, floated down by her, she cupped her hands to catch it.

The fly sat there patiently as she looked at it from every angle. Such a scary-looking bug producing such a beautiful show when it’s in multitudes. She wished she had brought a jar to catch some to commemorate this moment.

When she realized she wandered too far from you, she looked back, wanting you to be beside her. As she scurried back, she grabbed your hand, dragging you with her to be immersed in the show.

#ayaka x reader #noelle x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #kamisato ayaka #genshin noelle

[fandomcrysis]

All the hours I lost // 02

Part two: We're on earth to break each other's hearts

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn! reader

Genre: Itty bitty fluff and pure unfiltered angst

Warnings: Cursing (I have a really really dirty mouth :/), kinda delusional reader , fighting, alcohol, manga spoilers? well more like you'll need the manga to get more context to the story (Shibuya Incident arc)

Summary: When the initial magic of novelty wears off, when the honeymoon phase ends. Slowly the bittersweet moments just turn bitter and everything you so carefully tried to take care of withers. Yet you refuse to believe fate made a mistake connecting you. (Soulmates au)

Word count: 4.7k

A/n: Part two of my fic to @yuujispinkhair ’s Enchanted to meet you collab. Again I can't stress enough how amazing she is. 💕💖💘

This is a song fic, to get the full context please check out All too well by Taylor Swift! (You don’t have to it, makes sense without it but it makes more sense with it)

Well, another big boy fic, it's funny because I cut a whole ass scene from this one (it will go into part 3 instead) and it's still almost 5k words. I'm a huge fan of angst as is, but now I'm actually not doing too well so I feel like I'm in my joker phase xdddd. My villainry is just writing really hurtful angst, or at least I hope it is. (I will cry if it's bad angst instead hdhjfbsdjb) but I promise the next part won’t be this bad. Please enjoy~ 💕

This isn't beta read and I'm painfully dyslexic. So if you find something please let me know so I can correct myself.

Lovely people on the taglist💕: @cerealfrdinner797 , @brumous11 , @nappingwithyuuji

Part one

1 year 2 months 1 week 6 days 10 hours 3 minutes 1 second

“How about this one? Do you think he’ll like it?” Gojo shoves a blue plush lion in your face, to show it off.

“‘Toru, he’s one, you can buy him anything big and colorful and he’s gonna love it,” you state calmly while taking the winking lion from him. It fits all the criteria so it might as well be the one.

“So, can we get it? And this too then? They are both really cute, I can’t decide.” The tall man gives you a purple bear this time with a suspicious look on its face. Both the lion and the bear come from the same line of brightly colored wild animals, and you are sure Satoru will try to buy each one of them, one by one, if you don’t step in. It’s your friend’s son’s first birthday party and you don’t want to outdo his parents so you need to limit your partner.

“Baby, choose one and we’ll get him some kind of block puzzle with it. It wouldn't be appropriate to steal the spotlight with a huge gift,” you reason with the big kid that is your boyfriend. He takes one sad look at the lion plushie and he puts it back, from the looks of it the decision was a sad one but not a hard one.

“That was quick, I expected a whole scene. What made you choose the bear?” you question him in a cheery voice when you get to the puzzle section in the next aisle. He has the bear in his right arm hugging it to his torso. Satoru looks up from the 'find the pair’ game he picked up and looks at the bear with a little smile.

“It reminds me of my best friend,” his grin is wide, as he goes back to the puzzle in his hand. You look at the bear, curious what kind of person Gojo Satoru’s best friend would be. The bear is an eggplant purple, its thinner, tilted eyes make it look foxy and the mischievous smirk on its face gives the impression that he’s up to no good. Looking at the bear you can clearly see how a person like that would be friends with your boyfriend, they both look way too happy to wreak havoc.

“Do they look this shady?” you inquire further, while you look at another set of blocks.

“Yes, he does.” He sounds distant like he’s lost in the past.

“And is he? I mean as shady as he looks.” You latch onto this opportunity to know more about his life, although you have a feeling that you won’t get a lot out of him.

“He’s even worse than he looks,” he muses, now looking at the bear. The fondness in his eyes is clear, it makes you wonder if he would ever talk about you this way.

“Then I get why you are such close friends,” you say with a little smirk on your face, waiting for him to catch on. When he does he rolls his eyes at you with an amused smile.

“Do you really think I’m shady?” he pouts hoping that you would say no, maybe even give him a kiss.

“Of course, I do. I can’t name one person shadier than you. I literally met you while you were breaking into an abandoned church.” You hand him a puzzle to see what he thinks.

“You’re mean,” he replies with a sour look on his face which makes you giggle. How are you supposed to take him seriously when he has his hands full with children’s toys and he pouts just like a kid?

“Am I now?” You put your hands on your hips, waiting for him to approve of the gift. While he is busy with that, your eyes wander on the plushie again. He looks like he misses his friend. People don’t seem that lost in the past when they’ve met their best friend just the day before.

“Would you like the bear?” you offer him suddenly. As much as you want to know more you don’t want to get shut down again. Today is a good day and you don’t want to turn it bittersweet. That’s exactly why you force yourself to stop thinking about how you accepted that he will never let you in.

“What?” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“You look like you miss him. If you want we can get Kei the lion and you can get the bear. It would fit right in with your house if you ask me,” you explain, although you can’t help but point out how out of place it would be in his mancave. But maybe seeing that large bear in his house from time to time would make him feel better. He peaks at the toy, then back at you and pulls you in a half hug, as his other arm was full with the plushie. He presses a long kiss on top of your head, you reciprocate the hug by wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into him.

“You really are the best, Love.” He murmurs when he leans back, as a response you press a quick peck on his lips. You marvel at the fact that you made him happy while watching him go back for the lion with the biggest grin on his face. After you gathered everything you wanted to buy, Gojo ventured off again to look at something while you were paying for the toys.

“You two are really adorable together, it’s rare to see people this in love,” the cashier smiles at you while he scans your items. You smile back at him and look back over your shoulder to your boyfriend before thanking him.

“And how old is the kid?” he inquires further as he puts the bear in a big bag.

“He’s one. I hope we got the presents right for his age.” You converse with the cashier hoping that you didn’t get anything he can’t use. Now, you kind of regret not asking your friend what to get.

“Oh no, these are perfect. I was just curious. Let’s hope the young man grows up to be like his dad.” You don’t want to correct him on the fact that you aren’t shopping for your child, it’s not like you’ll see the cashier again, there’s no reason to. As for the comment, you know he means well, and he probably refers to being tall or handsome or strong or just generally any of Gojo’s traditionally attractive traits. You know that, but honestly, you can’t stop your gut reaction.

“Oh god no, I would probably go insane if I had another Satoru running around.”

1 year 6 months 2 weeks 2 days 12 hours 22 minutes 50 seconds

“I can’t keep doing this, Satoru. And you can’t either. We’re supposed to be soulmates damn it. You can’t introduce me to even one of your friends! Hell, do they even know about me?” You are at your limit again. You were patient, you did your best to trust him, but you’ve known each other for a whole year and a half. And it’s been more than 6 months since the night at the park. Since his empty promise to try harder for you.

Nothing happened since, at least not on his end. You don’t know his parents' name, let alone met them. You on the other hand introduced him to your family because your parents were talking your ear off about finally meeting your soulmate. So, you took him home for dinner with your family. As expected he charmed your parents like it was his job, he actually made an effort to not come off as the jerk he usually is. You remember staring at him starry-eyed trying to digest the reality that you might marry this man one day.

“Calm down, please. It’s not a big deal, I just never got around to it,” he tried his best to diffuse the situation but it was just fuel to the fire. How can he say this? How can you trust him when he disregards your feelings like this? Again and again, he proves to you that he doesn’t care.

“How fucking dare you? How dare you tell me it’s not a big deal when you see how upset I am? Do you care this little about me? After everything? Is this just a game to you? To see how far you can push me? To see how much you can get away with? Do you find seeing me like this amusing?” It all just pours out of you. After months of hopeless pining for a functional relationship, you just can’t hold back anymore.

“What? Why would I enjoy this? You keep painting me as a fucking villain and you as the innocent victim.” He starts to lose his calm a little, which just escalates your feelings as well. He has no right to feel justified when he is clearly in the wrong.

“When you do this day in and day out I can’t do anything else just assume that you like making me suffer. And what the fuck do you mean that I’m painting myself as the victim. You hurt me a lot, a lot of times, you can’t sugarcoat this, Satoru!” You want to solve this in a more civilised way, but you can’t get a hold of your emotions. One cat got out of the bag and now every single one is jumping out.

“How about you don’t push me to do things I’m not ready for? You ask for too much! I open up a little and you try to rip me open to learn every one of my secrets. You have no business snooping in my life!” You should just leave before things get more ugly, but every single thing he says is so infuriating that you can’t just leave it like this.

“What? I asked too much? I asked you to do the bare minimum. To not treat me like you are ashamed of being with me! Do you have any idea what too much is? How about we talk about moving in? Or getting married? And what do you think of kids? I think two of them running around would be amazing right about now.” You can’t help the poison dripping from your voice. This all painfully reminds you of the nights you spent listening to your own parents scream at each other. Reminds you of how you swore you’d never be like them. Despite that, here you are. You’re just glad there’s no one around to witness it. Regardless, you continue.

“But it’s not like I could even think of bringing any of these up! Your side of the venue would probably be completely empty at the wedding!” You are screaming at this point but you couldn’t care less. In Gojo’s penthouse, there are no neighbours anywhere near so it’s not like they would call the cops on you.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about! Why would you even bring this up?” He isn’t screaming thankfully, but he is getting louder as well.

“Are you fucking delusional? Why do you think I bring it up? Everyone has kids and weddings or a ring on their finger at the very least! We are not getting younger Gojo and I don’t want to go to parent-teacher conferences and playgrounds in my fifties just because you couldn’t get your life in order in time. If you even want kids that is. I have no idea about that either because I can’t talk to you about anything related to our future.” You are an emotional mess as you collapse on his couch, defeated. You feel lightheaded as the situation hits you. You don’t know how this argument will end but you are sure of one thing: this will leave a scar.

“Talking? Is this what you call talking? You are screaming and breaking down again.” He doesn’t address anything about the actual problem, he can’t say anything to that. Somewhere in the rational part of his brain, a small voice tells him that you are right. A bigger part, however, refuses to admit blame.

“Do you think I’m enjoying this? Do you think I like that I have to have a complete breakdown for you to acknowledge me? I don’t trust you enough to bring any of my concerns up anymore. At this point, I don’t know which is worse, the fact that I’m afraid to bring anything up to you or that you are a fucking stranger in my bed.” You curl up on his couch as he starts to pace. Your words cut deep, but he can’t face that he is hurting you this bad.

“Why can’t you just trust me? Talk to me? I’m your soulmate.” He doesn’t stop for a second, he goes round and round, which doesn’t help you calm down. His restlessness is just unnerving you even more.

“Just because we are soulmates, it doesn’t mean everything will magically work out. This relationship is just like any other. And even if it wasn’t, we aren’t the only soulmates, somehow everyone else can work it out!” You stand up because you can’t just sit around. You go to his kitchen, which is only separated from the living room by a counter, to get a glass of water. You try to make an effort to calm down.

“There it is again! Why are you so fucking obsessed with other people? Why can’t we just do what’s good for us?” He goes to lean on the counter in front of you as you take out a glass from the cabinet. It would be nice knowing that you are this at home in his house but right now you could barely see from the anger.

“What’s good for us? Relationships work because of compromises. There are no compromises here, I’m doing everything I possibly can to make this work and you are acting like a butthurt kid just because I asked you to treat me like your lover not like a secret. In all reality, this isn’t a relationship. This is an affair, a distraction. You aren’t committed to me at all.” This hurts to say. It hurts so much because it’s true. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if it turned out that he is actually married already.

“What do you mean I’m not committed? I haven’t even looked at anyone else since I met you.” Satoru sounds a 100% convinced that he is right with this point. You can barely fathom how he thinks this makes him looks committed.

“That just mean that we are exclusive, not that you are committed. You just show up whenever you want to have some fun and leave. This is all we are.” You take a deep breath, yet your fury doesn’t subside so you continue even though you won’t be able to take these words back. “But prove me wrong. Look into my eyes and tell me that you would be here if I wasn’t your soulmate. I know I wouldn’t.”

Gojo Satoru is speechless for maybe the first time in his life. He silently watches you, dumbfounded, as you take a sip of your water, tears running down your face. You consciously make an effort to calm down, which is not easy with the heavy silence looming over you. But after a while you feel strong enough to go through with this.

“Satoru, we are clearly dysfunctional. We tried it, it didn’t work out. We can’t do the same thing over and over again and expect things to change. You made a point to show, time and time again, that you don’t want to step out of your comfort zone to meet me halfway. You don’t have to, it’s not an obligation, you are right about that.” ‘Deep breaths, Y/n, you can do this. Breathe in, breathe out, baby.’

“I… just can’t work with the little to nothing you are giving me now. Let’s just split while we can do it in peace. Neither of us is happy right now, so we’ll just keep jumping at each other’s throats.” You somehow manage to power through the break-up, you finish your water while trying to stop your silent sobs. Gojo is sitting on a bar stool, he holds his head up with one hand while he just stares at the counter before him.

Once you place your glass in the sink you go to change back to your normal clothes and gather everything you need. The whole house is eerily quiet, and the glass, metal, and marble interior just seems so much colder than it was a few hours ago. When you get back down Satoru is still where you left him, he doesn’t say anything, not even when you bid goodbye. You can’t even guess what it is that made him speechless.

Satoru is stuck. He can’t do anything but repeat your words in his head. He relived your breakup dozens of times in his head trying to make sense of it. It’s like he’s twisting the knife again and again. He can feel the pain but he still can’t rationalize you leaving. You are just… gone? He can feel everything he usually keeps under control overwhelm him. It’s paralysing. He feels like he’s drowning.

1 year 7 months 0 weeks 4 days 16 hours 17 minutes 56 seconds

You are in complete darkness. You can’t see anything. You can’t hear anything. When you start to panic due to the lack of information you finally hear a familiar sound; Satoru’s voice. You spin around so fast you almost feel light-headed, but when you see Satoru you actually feel like fainting. He is locked in a box, and no matter what you do you can’t get him to notice you or get him out of the box. You scream at the top of your lungs, you bang on the box until you can’t lift your arm anymore, it’s no use. You feel so helpless, it breaks your heart…

You miss him a lot. Well, that’s an understatement. You miss him every minute of every day, he just won’t leave your mind, not awake, not asleep. Your heart aches and that doesn't stop. It probably never will as long as you are away from Satoru. These past two weeks you can barely do anything, worst of all; you can barely sleep. Sometimes you even refuse to. You don’t care how bad it gets, you’ll do anything to stop the nightmares. Especially this recurring one about Gojo being locked away. It feels so chilling despite it being the least hurtful in theory.

You don’t have to think a lot about what the dream could mean. You shut out Gojo and it feels like your heart is trying to get revenge on you for the hurt you’re causing it. You know you love Satoru, and you are so afraid that there’s nothing in this world that could change that. Not time, not space, not his behaviour. Even now, you lie awake after waking up from that damned nightmare again. You barely got an hour of sleep and you aren’t sure if you can go back to sleep again.

You try so hard to remember all shit he did, all the times he brushed you off, all the times you cried alone in your apartment because he couldn’t make it when you needed him the most. Your heart and mind is trying its hardest to bury every one of Satoru’s wrongdoings under the happy memories, but you don’t want to forget. You can’t just erase everything, your love for him isn’t supposed to be unconditional. He needs to do better so you can forgive him.

Probably this is why you could go through with leaving because you think that he will come back to you. You think that whatever you have is strong enough to pull him right back to you, it has to be. You are soulmates for a reason, you have to be. Saying that you met at the wrong time is a lot easier than trying to come to terms with Satoru being the wrong person for you. Whatever this whole soulmate thing is, it can't make a mistake that big, can it?

There has to be something else, you just can’t accept that. It already is hard enough to do something else other than drowning in your self-pity you don’t need to open that can of worms. During the daytime you have to suck it up and work, you are an adult and nobody will else take care of you. But at night you can give in just a little, just let the emotions take over...

Why can’t you be like every other soulmate, why can’t you just work? Why can’t Satoru just trust you? You were going on and on about you trusting him, but wasn’t he the one who didn’t trust you? He couldn’t share absolutely anything important about himself. He didn’t feel the need to let you in his life, so how could you let him into yours?

1 year 8 months 1 week 5 days 14 hours 35 minutes 16 seconds

Work parties suck, you can’t let loose because you are working with these people and if you do, you are the topic of the office gossip for a while. That being said, everyone has those days, and sometimes you severely overestimate how much alcohol you can handle. Only this time it isn’t the case; you are just fine. Well, you aren’t fine but you aren’t drunk. Just heartbroken. Having to deal with everyone bringing up Gojo during the small talk was draining you.

You know they don’t mean to hurt you but lying that you and he are doing well over and over again broke you little by little. You couldn’t admit it, you are still very much in denial and want to avoid this whole thing. Unfortunately, you can’t, so you just say what ends that conversation the fastest, this way you don’t have to deal with the pity either. So yes, the few drinks you’ve had might have something to do with you weeping in the bathroom of the party venue, but they aren’t the sole cause.

You haven’t looked at pictures of you together in weeks. It was painful, but of course today everyone and their mother asked to see your boyfriend. In any other situation, you would bless the skies for giving you a man that knows how to take a picture of himself. Not today though. Seeing how his eyes sparkle while he’s looking down at you sleeping on his chest or how he playfully pouts as you take a photo of him while waiting for your food. They brought back so many memories. It’s hard knowing he’s not with you.

The one photo you keep showing everyone, it was your background too before it got too painful to look at. Gojo took the picture in an elevator mirror, his arms are around you and he tilts his head so his temple rests on the top of your head. You on the other hand barely peek out from his bear hug. The sheer happiness is evident though. Your eyes are a thin line, and even with lower half of your face buried in your red scarf, it’s clear that it’s from the wide smile on your face.

You miss these days. The good days, the days full of laughter. Right now you don’t even care why you broke up in the first place, you just want him back. You try to suppress your sobs, because in this state you can’t even talk. You hardly make out anything through the glossy wall of tears, but you somehow make it to his contact or at least you think you do. Your thumb is hovering over the call button. The only thing in your mind is missing him. You miss him so much, your chest never stops aching no matter what you do. You’re psyching yourself up to press the button when a familiar voice calls out.

“Y/n, is everything alright?” When the sound of your name registers you look up. It’s one of your colleagues, they stand across the room from you, looking concerned and confused. The adrenaline rush is instant from feeling like you just got caught committing some kind of crime.

“S-sure,” you try to answer confidently, but your sobs don’t let you say anything without stuttering. “Just, you know, lovers quarrel.” You quickly add because you realise you need to explain it somehow. People don’t just randomly break down. You know they wouldn’t tell people about you breaking down even if you were visibly intoxicated. You, however, aren’t the type of person to rely on chance, not when you can do something about it. This is why you purposefully give them a personal answer that they would feel bad about spreading.

“Do you want to talk about it?” they ask carefully, even though you two aren’t close you know they want to help you. As much as you appreciate it, you really don’t. You just want to go home and find something Gojo left in your house so you can cuddle it to sleep. This way you can pretend he is just away on a business trip. You take a deep breath and go to the sink and you lean on it.

“Well, not everything is sunshine and rainbows, but we’ll get through it,” you reassure them as you gather yourself enough to start covering up the fact that you cried. You need to leave this damn toilet sooner or later.

1 year 8 months 1 week 5 days 15 hours 03 minutes 39 seconds

You’ve just got out of the taxi and finished paying the driver when you feel the buzz in your pocket. At first, you think that it’s probably one of your colleagues sending you way too many messages at once. There were quite a few who got carried away with the drinks, giving you big hugs and promising to check on you when they got home. As if you were the one who needed to be checked up on.

After a second or two it was obvious that your phone won’t stop vibrating, instead insisting on getting your attention. You sigh, getting it out of your pocket. You don’t want to deal with anyone at this time of the day - night? - it’s late and you just want to get to bed. Alas, you gather your remaining energy for one more social interaction. With another deep breath, you glance at the caller ID.

‘Gojo Satoru’

You do a double-take. Your chest suddenly feels tight, the all familiar feeling of anxiety taking over you. Your hands start to shake as you rush to take the call. You are so afraid he will hang up before you get the chance to talk to him.

“Hello…?” you trail off, unsure what to say when you pick up. You daydreamed of this for weeks, but you didn’t think it would be in these circumstances. You imagined that he would show up at your house unannounced with a bouquet of beautiful flowers; asking for forgiveness. Or maybe he would keep ringing your doorbell at 3 am, too drunk to stay away from you. You didn’t expect a call. At night. Especially not from a sober Satoru.

“Oh, hey. I… I didn’t think you would pick up. I should’ve thought of something to say before calling you, haven’t I?” He sounds tired. During all these weeks you never thought about Gojo doing as badly as you do. It never crossed your mind that he might be tossing and turning all night as well. That he might have the same nightmares as you do. You assumed it’s hard on him too, but he was always fine. Seemingly sailing through life without a care in the world. He never sought you out for comfort, or at least he didn’t show it if he did.

“Satoru… Is everything alright?” Your voice is as shaky as your hands are while you try to slip your key into the lock of the gate.

“Yes. No… Shit… I guess I just wanted to hear your voice… God, I miss you so much. It’s unbearable.” he mutters, the pain clear in his voice. You feel your eyes already tearing up. You miss him too, more than you could express.

“Toru-” you start, you aren’t sure how you want to finish the sentence. But you don’t need to as he cuts you off before you could get out anything else.

“No, this was a terrible idea. I shouldn’t have called you, especially this late. Just forget about this. Okay? It’s not right… I’m sorry. I love you.” He doesn’t even wait for you to react. He hangs up.

As you get into your apartment, completely on autopilot at this point, you don’t even bother to wipe away the tears. Looks like he wasn’t happy with only breaking his promises, he needed to break you too. All over again; trampling on the pieces crushing them to even smaller shards.

Masterlist

#gojo satoru #gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #jjk #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #gojo fluff #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #soulmates au

[strawberry-fields-things]

▷ READY, SET, GO

pairing: c!punz x gn!reader ; c!sapnap x gn!reader

ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: finding out c!sapnap and c!punz are into illegal street racing.

WARNINGS: swearing, suggestive themes, illegal street racing, mentions of bruises, mentions and portrayals of a shitty relationship, basically everyone is a bitch.

NOTE: remembered I had an event going on lmao hope you enjoy <3 also I didn’t really like this but it’s been a while since I’ve posted non htmf related content soo,,,, here you go 😌

CHOSEN AU: street racer AU

A low light glows over the horizon, the tangerine colored skies growing darker and darker as the night slowly takes over the West Coast. Engines rev in the distance, the scent of gasoline lingering in the air like a natural scent.

You straighten, trailing after George in what, oddly enough, feels like a duckling-mother-duck situation.

Your fingers twitch inside the pockets of your leather jacket— an old gift. One you’re starting to regret bringing here.

“What are you doing here?”

Hearing his voice shoots a mix of sensations down your stomach. That ever so familiar jump your heart does whenever it comes to him. Excitement, maybe, or rather… anticipation.

Relief surges from the bottom of your lungs, before quickly shifting into something different, something new.

Like you’ve been caught with one hand inside the cookie jar.

You spin on your heel before you can even properly register his words, your e/c meeting with his confused brown.

No, not confused. Angry.

Anger that is not directed at you.

“Sap?”

He opts to ignore you for the time being, his features twisting into a scowl as he glares at George, who idly stands behind you.

“You brought them here?” He accuses, jaw tense. “What the hell, George?”

George cocks his head to the side, eyes unimpressed behind his goggles. He shrugs nonchalantly— and you barely miss the way his back seems to stiffen in the slightest. “They were asking too many questions to the wrong type of people.”

George briefly meets your gaze, your own jaw set. He hesitates, before taking a stride towards Sapnap, placing his hand on his shoulder.

Then, he leans in to murmur, “They were worried about you.” A sigh. “And they weren’t taking no for an answer.”

Worried is an over-exaggeration.

Sapnap meets your eyes for a split second, before he focuses back on his friend.

God, you knew something was up.

Your eyes drift away and towards the place you find yourself in— is this what he does in his free time?

You can’t exactly say the signs weren’t there. But goddammit Sapnap— you thought he was smarter than this.

By the time you focus back on him, you realize George has quickly left the scene, heading towards one of the cars parked by the side.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Sapnap’s stance seems to grow taut, his gaze meeting yours once again.

His brown look different underneath this light. Less earthy, more… more fire-like. Amber, maybe.

“I told you to stay home.”

Your fingers twitch at that, and you have to bite your tongue to avoid saying the first thing that comes to mind.

Asshole.

Instead, you take a breath. You take a breath and tilt your head, seizing him up. He looks… different. It’s hard to explain— something you can’t quite put your finger on.

He’s wearing his leather jacket— twin to the one you’re wearing right now. George said to wear it to ‘blend in’— whatever that was supposed to mean.

You try to push the thought away, as well as your urge to take yours off and throw it onto the ground.

You’re not here to make a scene.

“I case you’re forgetting, you’re not my boyfriend anymore, Sap.” You say, slowly, as if to let the words sink in. “I don’t need to listen to you and whatever thought crosses your mind.”

He narrows his eyes in the slightest at that, brown hair falling over his line of sight and over his white bandana.

“Why are you here?”

You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, a scoff escaping you. “Last time I saw you in a lecture you showed up with bloodied knuckles and a bruised jaw.” His eyes almost, almost seem to brighten at that. “I was—”

The corner of his lips twitches into a smirk.“Worried about me?”

Heat flushes your cheeks.

“No.”

Okay, maybe you were a little worried about him.

Your plan was easy, really. Simple. A quick get in and out type situation. You just wanted to check what kind of trouble he was getting into.

And so you asked. You tried going to his friends— Quackity, Karl, hell, even Dream. But none of them would be willing to tell you the full truth.

And upon receiving no real answers, you turned to other people. People you remember seeing Sapnap talking to, people he always refused to introduce you to.

And it’s not like you could just ask him. Not when you broke it off on bad terms. Hell, even if you did, he wouldn’t have told you. Not that the break up would’ve had any effect on it.

After all, he’s always been great at keeping things from you.

You shift your weight, feeling as your leather jacket suddenly grows heavier than before.

You don’t wanna say he looks good. He doesn’t— he doesn’t. No, he looks…

Your eyes linger on his face, dark hair tussled and unkempt. With his hands inside his pockets— mirroring your own stance— you note the AC/DC hoodie underneath the leather. And that goddamned smirk of his, always teasing, always present—

…He looks hot.

You bite your tongue again, feeling heat creep up your neck as you swallow sharply.

You’re starting to realize you didn’t really think this whole plan through.

Sapnap balances himself on the heels of his feet, looking down at the floor before centering his gaze back on you.

Finally, he shakes his head with a light scoff. “This is not your type of place, Y/N.”

A sour feeling builds up within your chest, teeth grinding together.

Right, you almost forgot just how truly and utterly infuriating he is.

“How do you know what my type of place is?” You snap.

Sapnap shakes his head again, almost patronizingly.

Asshole.

He takes a step closer to you— a bold move. He cocks his head to the side, amber eyes carefully scanning your face.

“‘Cause, in case you forgot, I know you.”

And if you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn those last three words felt… softer.

Sapnap simply licks his lips, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair. “Just— just let George drive you back home, yeah? I don’t want you roaming around this kinda place.”

You blink once. Twice. Then, your gaze hardens.

“Little too late to play the protective boyfriend, don’t you think?”

Sapnap’s features twist into a frown, lips parting protest, “Y/N—”

Then, a voice cuts him off.

“Yo, Sapnap!”

You turn your head in the slightest, eager to end this conversation— meaning you may just thank whoever decided to step in.

Knowingly or otherwise.

“Are you ready to go or—”

Both you and the man pause for a moment, and you find yourself feeling intrigued.

The first thing you notice about the stranger are his eyes. Bright blue eyes that seem to share that cocky glint you used to see on Sapnap all the time.

Messy blond hair, white hoodie with two black lines by the side, and a golden chain necklace hanging loosely from his neck.

His blue meet your e/c, and the corner of his lips quirk upward in a cocky manner as he sidles up beside Sap.

He tilts his head, blue eyes searching your own frame, mimicking what you did only a few seconds ago. “Who’s your friend?”

Sapnap seems to stiffen underneath the blonde’s touch, quickly shrugging off the man’s arm. His jaw tenses as he inhales sharply. “No one. They were just leaving.”

You scoff. “What? No, I’m not.”

He shoots you a pointed look. “Yes, you are.”

You narrow your eyes at him, before you allow your glare to drop, turning to the blond with the most deightful smile you can manage.

As if you weren’t ready to start a fight with Sapnap mere seconds ago.

“I’m Y/N.”

He raises a brow. “Y/N?” He repeats, as if to test out your name. The corner of his lip twitches upward and into a smirk. “Punz.”

He’s cute— you would be an idiot not to pick up on it. But what you’re most interested in is the reaction of the man beside you, whose whole stance has only grown stiffer and straighter.

And to think he always claimed he wasn’t the jealous type.

“That’s it.”

Sapnap reaches for your hand, stern amber eyes meeting your oddly amused gaze. “If George is not taking you then I’m driving you home.” Finally, he turns to Punz in a dismissive sort of way. “We can race some other day, sorry.”

Punz scoffs through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Figures.”

You look down at Sapnap’s hand, and before you’re even given the chance to think this through, you’re already pulling away. “I’m not leaving.” You say certainly, definitively.

He clenches his jaw, trying to search for something in your eyes. Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem to find it.

And so, with a dangerously sharp, deceivingly innocent smile, you say,

“In fact, I wanna watch the race.”

You’re only saying it to spite him. You know that. He knows that.

And you can’t ignore the part of you feels a twinge of remorse, of guilt. But why do you?

You were concerned about him— even when you are no longer dating, when you’re no longer friends. You worry for him— you always do.

And even after you find out he’s been illegally street racing for longer than you could hope for, he doesn’t try to come clean. No, instead, he’s actively trying to get you out of his sight and out of his mind.

You ignore the pit that forms within your stomach.

Well, tough-fucking-luck, Sapnap.

Punz hums in recognition, mirth dancing in his blue gaze. He chuckles, eyes dismissing Sapnap as they center on your frame. “I happen to have an empty seat in my car.”

Blue meet amber for a brief second, the latter shooting a not-so subtle glare at him, before Punz turns to you, taking a confident stride forward. “Front row seats to watching lover boy here eat dust.”

You know he’s messing around. He’s trying to get in Sapnap’s head— it’s clear as day.

Because if anything George told you on the way here is true, then Sap is one of the best illegal racers from the West Coast.

You’re not an idiot— far from that, in fact. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure Punz’ approach as he allows his gaze to linger on your features— specifically, your eyes and lips.

He’s exploiting a potential weakness— or, rather, he’s teasing.

You ignore Sapnap’s stare boring into your side as you fold your arms over your chest.

“I’ll take it.”

They both seem surprised at that, backs straightening. Punz’s brows shoot upwards, whereas Sapnap’s whole body seems to freeze on the spot.

“I see,” Punz murmurs, the surprise wearing off as the corner of his lip curves into a smirk. As if to say, I see what you’re doing.

Yet he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he lets a chuckle rumble within his chest as he stands beside you, arm open as he gestures a car by the side of the track.

Then, he leans in to whisper, lips barely brushing against your ear, “After you,”

You don’t miss the look he gives Sapnap— teasing, cocky, knowing.

Punz’s car feels expensive— as in crazy expensive. And believe me, you’re no expert, but even with an untrained eye you note the leather seats, the near-perfect paint job—

Just the whole vehicle on its own.

Strange, since Punz didn’t exactly strike you as the type to come from money.

As Punz circles around his car, you manage to accidentally take a glance of the orange car parked beside his. Most importantly, the driver.

Sapnap doesn’t come from money either. Yet you can’t help but note the resemblance between the two cars.

Amber eyes meet your own, making you straighten. Dark hair falls over his bandana as he clicks his jaw shut, inhaling sharply.

Then, the blond takes a seat next to you, dissimulating his evident amusement.

He wraps one of his hands around the steering wheel, a lazy grin taking over his features. Less smug, more… teasing.

“Boyfriend?”

You quirk a brow, ignoring the way your whole back tenses at the question. “Ex boyfriend, actually.”

He clicks his tongue. “Sorry to hear that.”

You scoff through your nose, shaking your head as you fully turn to face him.

“I’m not.”

Punz laughs at that, the sort of laugh that resonates within his throat and chest, before it dies off to be replaced with a smirk. “Wanna help me put his money where his mouth is?”

You tilt your head, feeling as the corner of your curves upward involuntarily.

Maybe this night isn’t over after all, huh?

“Hell yeah.”

#[this is my sunrise] event #dani’s 1k event #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dani writes mcyt #dani writes dream smp #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dani writes punz #dani writes sapnap #mcyt x you #sapnap x reader #sapnap imagine #punz x reader #punz imagine

[smashboxgirl26]

Erwin smith and his beloved raking leaves together <3 They end up making a huge pile and Erwin picks up reader and ends up throwing her in the pile lol

autumn colors

erwin smith x gn! reader modern au! contains: FLUFFFFF a/n: yayyayyayayay - sorry about the long wait 'nonnie, school's been killing me but i finally did it <3 masterlist

Along with the beautiful weather and pumpkin spice lattes that autumn brought came the trees that were stripping themselves bare in preparation for the cold months that followed. The colors of the leaves were beautiful as always, but the mess they made in the yard was quite an annoyance.

And for new homeowners such as Erwin and yourself, raking the leaves that fell from the trees in your yard was technically an important job. Even if it really wasn’t, that didn’t mean that you didn’t find it exciting. You saw it as the first mundane task in the long line that you and Erwin would have to perform together as newlyweds and homeowners.

And it was an exciting thought.

The beginning of forever.

You couldn’t help the smile adorning your face when you reached into your coat closet by the front door as you grabbed a jacket, and it easily caught Erwin’s steady gaze.

“You look a little too excited just to go outside in our yard and rake the leaves,” he commented as you slipped your light jacket over your shoulders.

“That’s because it’s fun,” you grinned at him playfully. “And I get to hang out with my amazing husband at the same time.”

You watched as his eyebrows shot upward before a teasing smile rested on his lips. “Well now you’re just flattering me. What do you want?” he looked at you suspiciously.

“Apple cider,” you smiled cheekily.

He rolled his eyes with the smile still staying in place, “Of course, you couldn’t just love me unconditionally.”

“Nope,” you giggled. “I only married you so I could boss you around.”

“Apple cider after we finish raking,” he sighed as he opened the front door. “Or else we’ll stay inside on the couch all day.”

“Fine..” you pouted as you followed behind.

Yeah, so maybe your yard was worse than you had originally thought. Or the trees had just decided to lose most of their leaves over the past day or so and your overly orange and yellow yard was the consequence. Either way, it meant that the two of you had more work to do - even if it wasn’t necessarily hard.

“That’s a lot of leaves,” you commented to basically no one. Erwin had walked to the shed in the back to grab the rakes.

It almost looked like the sunset had exploded or thrown up all over your grassy front lawn with the amount of red and orange that lay on the ground. It looked very pretty though, like a picturesque scene of an orchard in the fall with autumn colors all around. Plus, it was fun because basically every step you took made a crunch underfoot.

“Here’s a rake,” Erwin held it out to you once he came back.

“Thank you my good sir. So, how are we going to tackle this messy yard?”

It was funny to see him stand for a second as he contemplated the answer like it was a very difficult math problem. It was cute to see the overly serious attitude he had applied to mundane tasks like this one.

“I could just do one side and you could do the other, and then our piles could meet in the middle,” he suggested with a shrug.

“Works for me,” you smiled before you walked over to one side of the yard. “I can do this side then.”

“I’ll be over here then,” he sent you a thumbs up.

“Last one finished with their pile has to do the dishes tonight!” you yelled soon after you’d started.

Erwin almost began stuttering in response to the way you were now quickly shoveling leaves into a small pile near the middle of the yard. And now that you were extremely determined to win the little competition (even if it was unfair because your side was smaller and you’d started before calling it out) he decided to put the same effort into his side.

It took a little over twenty minutes for the two of you to finish your sides, but even if you’d gotten a small headstart and less work - you were still a little bit too late.

“Finished!” Erwin yelled out as he smushed the last little bit of leaves into his ginormous pile.

“Fini- No! That’s so unfair!” you called back as you added your last few leaves to your heap.

“How is that unfair?” he asked with a gloating smile. “I don’t have to do the dishes tonight.”

“Well actually,” you said slyly as you inched over to his pile. You quickly grabbed a handful of leaves from his pile and scattered them around. “You still have some leaves left on your side.”

Erwin’s expression changed within an instant and you were already squealing and giggling as you ran away from his “attack”. With the cold air biting at your nose,ears, and fingertips, it was hard for you to run fast and he was easily able to catch up to you.

Without another word, you were slumped over his shoulder while you wriggled and kicked your feet playfully as he went. You could hear the laugh that was burning in his throat, a low and breathy tone, before you were flung forward onto the big pile of leaves the two of you had made.

“That’s what cheaters get,” he smirked brightly.

You only huffed in annoyance as you sat yourself up, a thin pout resting on your lips as you stared up at him.

And even though you were slightly annoyed at him, he only thought the sight in front of him was beautiful. Even with the few leaves that were now sticking out of your messy hair, you looked absolutely perfect with the autumn colors surrounding you.

“You owe me two apple ciders now.”

#erwin smith #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot x you #hange x reader #attack on titan erwin #shingeki no kyojin #erwin x reader #aot fanfiction #aot fluff #aot erwin #erwin x Kareena #erwin x you #erwin fluff #keke.asks #keke.writes #aot drabbles #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk drabbles #snk fluff #snk x you