rkkaeun‌:

she looked at sunmi for a moment, before realization set in. as a fellow trainee, it seemed ludecrous to not have sunmi in the finale - she’s a one of the best dancers, if not the best in nova. to add to that was the years of training, and the exposure for being in several public gigs. but she supposed that’s what going into the red team does to people; kaeun’s seen how it affected her own group on the 2nd mission. a demotion like that, a possible suggestion of elimination, it would have been hard on anyone.

kaeun would be bold to guess that it had to be worse on those who wanted it even more.

sometimes she doesn’t really get it. of course, hyunbin is the ceo, and he had his reasons for his decisions ( or so she hoped ). but a part of her simply wondered if the move was dictated by the need to drive ratings? or perhaps, it was simply because they had overwhelming expectations for the older and experienced trainees from that batch? kaeun didn’t ponder over it for long, however. somehow, she always felt that the three will make it, because they’re too good not to.

( besides, this is a dog-eat-dog world. there’s no room for any artistes that are not mentally strong enough to get past a hurdle in a survival show. perhaps she had too much faith, or maybe she was on the other end of the line with too little empathy. 

it doesn’t matter, in the end, they’re all there. )

“ i…see. the stage must mean a lot to you, though i shouldn’t be surprised. you shine when you’re on stage, unnie. she would be proud of you. ”

her comment was spoken softly as kaeun flashed a gentle smile. she’s never really talked to her about families; she’s never heard about sunmi’s family and never really spoke up about her own. people would have known about her sister, jihyo - but few would know about their complicated family. well, kaeun would still say that they’re lucky ones; her parents might be cold and they may have drifted apart, but they were still somewhat hanging on to each other, even if it’s by a thin thread.

“ i guess i kind of understood that. i felt the same way when i’m standing on the dj decks, but it was a late realization. i didn’t know how much music would become part of me until high school. i’m a little of a late bloomer. ”

the girl chuckled, eyes curling as she intertwine her fingers behind her back. but being an idol is not like being a dj. being an idol is performing in front of millions of eyes potentially, instead of getting a crowd of 300 at a downtown club.

“ my parents never really liked me performing. i was supposed to be the responsible daughter, the one that scored a good scholarship to university, and all that. … i’ve drifted away from the topic, sorry. i supposed, i don’t have a novel reason for being here. it sounds like i don’t appreciate the opportunity, which isn’t true - i do. i know it’s something that doesn’t come easily. but i really wonder if debuting is it. it felt like i’ve been dj-ing or working on my own music for so long that i’m not sure if i’m ready to commit to something else entirely. ”

“it always had. i didn’t want to be that person who was stuck doing something i didn’t love, you know?” it today’s climate that’s so easy to do: to end up somewhere simply out of necessity rather than want. “i’m fortunate enough to even attempt to reach my dreams. a part of me had to realise this as an opportunity that not many others can afford. that’s how i’ve humbled myself.”

too many times has sunmi heard that she’s the best in dance, best this, expected to be the example. in her mind she knew she wasn’t. not out of self deprecation but out of a sense of reality. maybe she was really good at something but she certainly wasn’t the best. it’s that idea that had many people shocked when she dropped to the danger zone. for her expertise, they expected more. sunmi never understood what hyun bin ever expected to her, especially when his comments never differed, but at some point she stopped caring.

a part of her was tired of the commentary but a part of her also felt that unchanging criticisms were only her fault for so long. at some point she felt like she wasn’t what nova was looking for which only begged her to question why they hell they bought out her contract or why reject her in the mgas but offer to buy it out later. what was hyun bin’s angle? his motive? why do it if all he’s done in the last few years – and heavily in the last three months – is say that she isn’t worthy, she’s lacking, she doesn’t reach expectations.

…..but then do everything that would suggest otherwise?

“maybe she would be,” she’d shrug. sunmi stopped wondering what her mother would think of her journey. previously it led her to being too entitled, too self centred. too ruthless and ambitious. there was no point in pursuing a dream that was never fully her own so she made it her own. “i think my mother would have told me to leave nova a long time ago if she were still alive.” her mother would have convinced her that another company would have valued her in the first place. hell, she might not have even left sphere if her mother was around.

“it’s not a rule that you have to have a love of music since early childhood for this to mean something to you,” sunmi says with a small smile. “there’s no such thing as a late bloomer when it comes to the love of music.”

sunmi absorbed kaeun’s words. it was interesting. kaeun didn’t have a complete interest in being an idol. it seemed like she just ended up here. she certainly didn’t half ass anything (kaeun has come so far since the beginning and sunmi was proud of her). “i figured you would have been more of a producer. like wendy. you both seem to exude more producer like qualities. you can love music and want to work in music but being an idol isn’t the only gateway into it.” so now came the decision.

“do you want to be an idol and not have the freedom like you would djing or are you fine with staying in clubs and making your own remixes?”

if you don’t like the haikyuu stage play

you’re straight

➴ Summary:based on mgk’s song “why are you here”, he and the reader end up in the same club after lying to one another, and choose to let the coke speak for themselves.

➴ Pairing:Colson Baker / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings:Angst, 18+: sex and drug use (and abuse).

➴ Wordcount:2K

➴ Tagged:@angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note:Angie and I dared each other to write a fic based on this song. I like how it came out! Hope you enjoy it.

Colson is used to this pace, this world. It’s where he belongs. For her, she needs an extra help. A bit of stardust to let go and not feel out of place when she feels the blast of music running through her veins and she sits in the laps of men she doesn’t even know for the night. Waiting until morning, when shame creeps up through her spine and shakes her like an infant a doll. It is no use to make up excuses if she can’t even remember what she’s excusing to begin with.

John─Jake, Jordan, whatever his fucking name is─squeezes her side, smiling up at her. Snow, she observes him for a moment, taking him in: tall, even though he’s sitting their height difference is obvious, dark hair and skin so pale she is tempted to call him Dracula. J─at least she’s sure his name starts with a J─is a friend of Colson she had never met before, but hardly as interesting or entertaining as the ones she has, or Colson himself. J is a nice dude, used to a different environment, and she is almost sure it’s the first time in his life he’s done coke.

She almost feels bad for using him. Smiling, she lowers her head until her lips are pressed against his ear and she leaves a soft kiss. As she’s to speak, the words get caught in her throat. Her gaze following someone behind J, walking into the club with a redhead at his side and a blunt hanging from his lips. It’s almost comical how, as if sensing her, he turns his head in her direction. She can see the colour leaving his face, his jaw clenching as the blunt finds home between his fingers and he presses his lips together.

Colson, still grabbing the redhead’s side, begins walking towards the lounge she and J are, not once breaking contact with Snow. Though she sees the colour returning to him, the fire that is now starting on his eyes, she feels no shame in her lies as he probably doesn’t on his.

She was supposed to be alone, he was supposed to be at home. Yet here both of them are, not a single soul on the club knowing what’s about to go down.

“Jordan!” Colson’s voice is heard over the music, and Jordan─see? She knew it began with a J─looks up at him, laughing. He stretches his hand, keeping his legs still to balance Snow. Colson shakes it and proceeds to sit on the couch in front of them. His date right on him, even though he isn’t even looking in her direction. Colson keeps on looking at Snow.

Jordan, still with her on his lap (and he seems in no rush to get her to move), lights up a blunt. He nods at Colson, exhaling the smoke with ease. “It’s good to see you man. What’s new?”

Snow becomes bored ten minutes into the generic conversation of two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while but have no actual interest in changing it. So she does what she does best: piss Colson off. Her hands grab Jordan’s hair and shirt and she takes her sweet time murmuring in his ear and making him chuckle. Her lips press against his skin more often than not and from the corner of her eye she can see Colson tensing up.

It’s not wrong to have a little revenge on him, is it? She’s right to be pissed. Yes, she lied as well but, what else was she supposed to do? Their relationship─if she can even call it that─is a rollercoaster of highs and lows, of fighting and laughing, their screaming sometimes mixing in the night and not even themselves can tell if it’s a fight or sex, or both. She wanted a night to herself, to be with someone she doesn’t want to murder and hold at the same time. A night of hectic peace that surrounds her in darkness.

She sighs, defeated. Colson wants the same. It’s becoming too much for them to handle. Yet, it is not in her nature to give up and, given how he follows her movements, neither it’s in his.

“You men are boring,” she speaks over the music, getting up from Jordan’s lap and offering Colson’s date her hand, “let’s dance.”

Eve (Colson’t date) is nicer than she expected her to be when she first saw her. A New Yorker having the time of her life in LA, she moves like the club it’s her natural habitat. Snow has a hard time following, her brain wanting to shut off due the alcohol she had been taking, but as Eve grabs her hips and brings her closer, her hands going down to Snow’s ass, she lets herself go again. She wraps her arms around Eve’s shoulders and follows her movements, turning them around so that she can look at Colson and Jordan, looking at them like hawkes a rabbit. A voice in the back of her mind is telling her to stop, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to. This is the life that’s left for her after all, whether she likes it or not…whether she wishes to not spend it alone or not. She better make the most out of it before it ends.

So she dances: twirls, twerks, jumps, laughs. She has the time of her life while the person she loves sits in a couch observing her, right next to her date. At some point she’s sure she and Eve have made out as well. It’s not long until she needs a refill.

She winks at Eve and, without stopping to tell either Colson or Jordan that she’s leaving, she walks over to the bathroom she knows it’s free─since she’s the only person to have a key─.

The music begins to fade, her thoughts are louder with each step she takes. She has to grab her head and pull on her hair with light force to recover; a loud ring on her right ear makes her want to scream. She sighs. It’s like this all the time: fun to be high until the drugs are wearing off and her brain wants to punish her as much as possible. She knows she deserves it, she’s not going to fight it. Just a bit more to make it through the night, that’s all she needs.

She pushes the door open, walking inside. As she’s going to close it, a hand stops her from doing so. Startled, at first, she pushes harder, until she hears his voice.

“It’s me.”

No. She should tell him no, close the door, do her own business and go back to dancing. It’s the right thing to do, the sane thing to do. But, which one of them is sane? Neither. That might be the fucking thing about them: the craziness, the jealousy, the toxicity that threatens to kill them every day but that both of them hold onto. It’s insane and they love it, and they can’t have enough of it.

So what does she do? She opens the door, lets him in. Watches as he closes the door and turns the lock on. Last thing she sees from the outside is the digital clock in the wall: 12:05.

Colson turns to face her, takes one, two, three steps forward, forcing her backwards until she hits the sink. She feels his hands grabbing the back of her thighs. He lifts her without issue─which, considering his physique it’s surprising─and sits her on the sink. She wraps her legs around his waist, he gets closer. This moment tastes like heaven and hell on Earth and she almost swears she could get high off it alone.

She grabs his chin and he presses their foreheads together, inhaling. His lips are so close she can’t help herself and runs her thumb along them, trembling when Colson catches it on his mouth and sucks. Her womanhood pulsates, sending pleads all throughout her.

“I told him we’re old friends,” Colson whispers, kissing her earlobe.

She laughs, tilting her head to the side. She replies: “We can never be friends.”

Her next words die in her throat, with Colson sucking and biting her neck and his free hand between her legs, she has trouble forming a word, let alone a sentence. Colson understands her like no one has before: he knows where to touch her, when to touch her, if it’s too much or not enough, she never has to tell him (except if he wants her to beg). He knows her limits and she knows his, and this connection is something she needs to live. She needs it─him.

And she needs fucking coke. Right fucking now.

She grabs Colson’s hand from between her legs, “wait, let’s have some first.” And although she can see him swallowing hard, clenching his jaw and the forceful nod that he lets out and is all but convincing, she doesn’t stop.

This thing: snow, coke, Tokyo, flour, it has had so many names she can’t remember them all, it’s fucking her up, but so is this world and she isn’t going to give it up.

Colson takes the bag from his back-pocket. He doesn’t move from between her legs; as he opens it, he looks at her with a worried expression that makes her heart sink.

“It’s the last time.” He’s serious this time. “You don’t need this shit.”

She scoffs, moving to take the bag and stopping dead in her tracks when Colson puts his arm up and the bag out of reach. She looks at him, upset for a second and then…with an unreadable expression that seems to take a toll on him. “Neither do you. Yet here we are.”

“So…” he leans in until his mouth is against her, but he doesn’t kiss her, he goes on: “this is the last time we do this fucking shit, ‘right?”

Nodding, she seals a lie with a kiss. Colson, who knows this isn’t the last time the two are going to find themselves in this situation (and, knowing them, together), opens the bag and dips in, taking a small amount on his finger. He takes it first, with her caressing his hair as he does and kissing his face. He feels the rush less than a second after and her touches become more and more. He repeats his previous acts, this time placing his finger under her nose. He observes as she inhales it, watches as her pupils dilate and the rush kicks in. He closes the bag and discards it somewhere in the ground.

She’s the one to lean in this time, her kiss is harsh and desperate and he wraps his arms around her in an attempt to feel her even more. His hands find trouble getting rid of her corset and she laughs, but he manages to do it. As it falls to the ground, she moves and helps him with his shirt. Then, her jeans, and his, their underwear, and Colson finds himself between her legs: his cock touching her wetness and begging to go in. He’s kissing her neck but she keeps on grabbing his face and forcing her to look at him.

Colson gives her a quick kiss, chuckling when she follows his mouth. He takes a step back, helps her get down the sink and turn around, bending her. There’s confusion in her face for half a second, until he’s back against her and this time he does enter her pussy. She lets out a loud, long moan and grabs the sink until her knuckles turn white.

She feels his fingers tangle in her hair, a soft tug and she’s staring at him through the mirror. He thrusts into her at changing pace, but not once dares to break eye contact. When he goes slow, she wants to cry and scream at him. Yet, when he goes faster, she wants him to slow down and let them savour this moment. He leans in, kissing her neck. She’s tempted to turn her head and kiss him but that’ll anger him.

No, she tells herself, he wants to see her; her tears, her moans, and the ugly face she makes when she cums.

It’s all right for it to happen, so long as it’s the last time.

I still cannot stop thinking about how acnh players hate that the game gives them goals to complete and the tools to complete them along with some obstacles. You guys just hate video games