#and sometimes it's just block text of me just writing basically a summary

[sassenach082]

Really love your whole story! And I love how we can see like small funny conversations after reading each chapter. I gotta know how you plan this all out. Do you plan it all out from the get-go, how much of an actual outline do you have for all of this? I'd really love to hear about your process!

Also good luck with chapter 18, I can feel that it is being a bitch to work with, carry on soldier🫡

Oh boy nonnie! If only I knew how to explain this in a way that doesn't make me sound like I'm completely and entirely out of my mind.

I'll try and explain it in a somewhat coherent fashion!

I have a doc that I use where I organize by chapter more or less what I want to do. It doesn't usually end up being that in the final draft but it helps me to get where I need to go by putting in the key scenes that link the narrative together.

A while ago I took a creative writing class and the teacher said something that stuck with me. "If you get stuck, just put in brackets of what you want to happen and keep going. Come back later!"

This ended up being really helpful! I don't do brackets but I'll put in something like this: / and then something cool happens with these characters regarding xyz! OR this character says:

this character says:

this character does this:

/ and I just keep going with whatever the scene is. It helps a lot! I also will frequently go back and re-read my own stuff while checking my outline, and my brain kind of makes connections of extra scenes I can add. Sometimes I get a wild hair and just go "oh this would be perfect" but I don't know how to write it or what I want to say, so I'll put in the placeholder to remind me even if I'm not ready to write it at the time.

This of course leads to an outline that is a hot-freaking-mess, but it works for me. I have an outline doc and I kind of just highlight as I go. Sometimes scenes I wanted don't fit in that chapter (I tend to have REALLY LONG chapters) so I'll just keep it where it is and go back and add it in later, or I'll move it into the box for the next chapter.

When I'm writing I tend to focus on one character at a time, since I do third person POVs mostly. So on chapters where it's two character POVs alternating, I usually do one character first and then check my outline to go back and plug in the rest of the stuff for the other character. It can get confusing/frustrating at times, and sometimes I go completely off my rails and do something entirely different (thanks brain) but knowing a general outline of what I'm doing really helps. Once I have a general outline I can go in and write the scenes as I get inspired to write them. I'm very much not a start at the beginning author considering I wrote this entire beast with the final scene completed first which I've had written almost a year now.

I hope that was coherent enough to understand! My google drive is a hot mess of documents called Untitled with numbers after them and then drabbles and a whole bunch of other stuff. Currently the i'll ride au outline doc is 15+ pages and has the series loosely mapped out with bullet points of what I want to happen.

My poor beta is the best for putting up with me!

#sassy answers asks #this is long and me blabbing about my brain so I cut myself off with a keep reading #my writing process is kind of a hot mess? but it works i guess #when i'm planning its more stream of consciousness so i write it how the characters would talk? #if that makes sense #sometimes i'll put in lines that are good zingers #(this is fun for tom especially he's so sassy) #and sometimes it's just block text of me just writing basically a summary #and i go back and flesh it out later #i found it helps because i sometimes get stuck on what they're saying or doing but if i just keep typing exactly what i'm thinking #it helps me stay in the zone and not get frustrated #or stuck #those little blurbs at the end are often lifted directly from my first draft when i'm just writing a scene i want to see & its all dialogue #so i guess this is a VERY long response #to saying i write dialogue first #and often go back and plug everything else in later #usually the actions of what they're doing go last since that fleshes it all the way out #i also have strong visualization skills too #so i'll like picture it in my head like it's a movie?? #so i'm like a director and a writer at the same time #i don't know how to make that make sense #apparently some people literally can't visualize and it makes me sound crazy when i describe movies in my head #but i've been a swimmer for years and in long sets i'd just like... play the first harry potter movie in my brain #which is... a weird cool fact about me i guess but ANYWAY

[emyladia]

I want you back... | L. Nr

pairing : lando norris x f!reader

summary : you and lando had broke up a few months ago and you're just now moving on. Or so you thought... 'Cause that was before he decide to text you.

genre : fluff, slightly angst ?

warning : cursing, pretty sure that's all

a/n : I just loooove writting about lando. This is kinda shitty but it was fun to write hope you'll enjoy it ! Anyways taking request if you want.

You were fine, of course the break up has been really tough for you but now you could say it loud and proud : you were over it.

What a lie...

All it took was a damn text for your world to fall into piece again.

"Hey"

It was 3 AM when you screen lit up, and now that single word was making you completly crazy.

What the hell ? Why would he be texting you ? Maybe a wrong number ? Was he drunk ?

Your head was just a huge mess at the moment, that's probably because of that that you decided to answer. You clearly wouldn't have if you were in your plain consciousness.

At least that's what you were trying to convinced you.

"Hey" You text back.

"It's been a while" He answered in less than a minute.

"WTF lando ?" You couldn't help but send, this wasn't making any sense.

He was the one to broke up with you, and he hadn't even try to contact you the past months. Why would he texts you ? And why now when you were finally moving on ?

"I miss you"

You had turn off your phone after this text.

Like what were you supposed to say ? That you too you were missing him ? That in fact you were missing him so damn much it was hurting you ? That you were missing him so bad that sometimes you were calling your male friends by his name ?

You just couldn't answered that.

You were having lunch with your a few friends, yet the text just wouldn't leave your mind.

You had basically stared at it the whole morning.

"Hey, you're okay y/n ?" One of your friend asked.

"Oh yeah sorry I was just lost in my thoughts" You tried to brush it off, chuckling a little.

"You seem a bit off today, no offense but we've barely heard you" Another one of your friend spoke with a concern look on her face.

They were all nodding, as you sighed.

You should probably just told them, theywere your closest friends and it's not like you could keep that to yourself anyway.

"Lando texted me" You blurted out looking down.

A loud silence followed your confession as you saw all their eyes widened in shock.

"I'm sorry WHAT ?" One of them finally spoke.

"Lando in like LANDO ?" Another continued.

And they all followed, throwing questions at you.

You showed them the conversation, way easier and they all gasped at the last text.

"What are you gonna do ? You should probably block him" Your friend said, they seemed tp all agree.

"Yeah I should do that" You nodded.

They were probably right, that was the best things to do. They were the one who had picked you up piece by piece when Lando broke up with you.

You were gonna do just that, blocked him and he would be out of your life forever.

God you were so weak.

When you went home and were about to block him another text illuminated your screen.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, you're not mad are you ?"

You swear your fingers had just moved on their own.

"I'm not mad, I was just busy sorry" You replied, and you knew you had fucked up, that needed to stop and yet you were encouraging him.

"I'm so relieved to hear that ! How you're doing ?"

Damn why was he answering so fast.

"Just casual life nothing too entertaining, you ?"

"Pretty much the same"

It was gonna be fine, it was a simple discussion between two young adults. Nothing to worry about.

"The paddock feels empty without you" He added.

Shit. This wasn't fine at all.

"Is that so ?" You were kicking your feet like a damn teenager.

"Yeah, can't win a race without you" You knew, and he knew this was border, but to be honest you weren't caring at all.

"Can't win a race at all" You joked, you were giggling. God you've missed talking to him, even for simple discussion like that.

You shouldn't felt that way, or you were gonna end up sad again, but you couldn't help it.

"OFFENSIVE" He texted back, but you knew he was laughing.

You and Lando kept talking for hours, you were smiling at your phone like a maniac.

He was such a good talker, smooth, funny, full of charm.

He knew how to annoy you and how to make you laugh the most. He also knew how to hurt you the most.

You were currently laying in bed, watching 'pretty woman' when you got another text from your ex boyfriend.

"I really do miss you tho"

Here you were again, staring at the screen like it contained the answer to the greatest mystery on earth.

"Lando, stop that please" You eventually texted back after a few minutes.

"That what ?"

"That thing that you're currently doing, trying to make me pity you"

"Is it working ?"

"Lando..."

"Cmon y/n I'm serious, I fucking miss you, every minute of every day"

You were no longer paying any attention to the movie that was still playing on the screen of your laptop.

"YOU chosed to broke up" You remembered him.

"I know I made a damn mistake, and I'm sorry"

"You know what I don't even want to talk you anymore"

"Y/n don't do that"

"I should have blocked you already"

"But you didn't"

You were infuriating, completly messed up by too many emotions at the same time, you were sad, and angry against him, and against you too cause you were so weak for this man.

He was right, you didn't.

"Babe please, I just want you back" He sent you a few minutes later since you weren't answering.

"Should have thought about that sooner, and don't call me that"

"I'd do anything" He insisted.

"Claim me on TV and I'll think about it" You texted saracstically before turning off your phone.

You and lando had never been public, because fans could be crazy at some times and you were finding it absolutly ridiculous to brag on social media that you were in a relationship.

That's why you had said that, that wasn't making anysense. Maybe now he'll understand that this was definitly over.

Or so you thought.

When you woke up your phone was blowing up with notification.

A lot of demands on instagram and hundreds of texts from your friends.

You were so confused until you clicked on the link your friend had sent you.

It was an interview of Lando that he hade just done but the views were already so high. Why would she send you that ?

Everything become clear when right before ending the interview Lando spoke :

"Actually I want to say something before leaving, I used to date a girl Y/n Y/l/n, she was amazing but I messed up with her cause I was a complete idiot... So if you're ever seeing this please come back, I know I've been an asshole. But I really want you back"

What.

In.

The.

World.

Was.

Happenning.

You grabbed your phone and dialed his number immediatly... No answer.

"What have you done ???" You tyepd agressively on your keyboard completly freacked out.

#hi there #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #imagine #ff #norris #ln4 #mclaren #i love him #fluff

[inquisitor-gayfax]

✨ Fic Planning and Outlining ✨

Outlining is a huge part of my writing process and something I love talking about, so since I’m currently suffering something of a writer’s block, I’ve put together a step-by-step explanation of my process below. It is important to note that there is no right answer or best way to outline; as with most things it’s just a matter of finding what works best for you!

I would love it if other folks chimed in and added to this with their own tips and tricks!

Let’s learn from each other!

Outlining Tools & Overall Organization

To start with, I use OneNote to organize everything, but there are a ton of programs out there, and you could even do this with different .txt/word files! The main reasons I like OneNote: (1) oo pretty colored tabs (2) tab folders for making sense of the giant pile of WIPs:

So, I have all the things I’m “actively” working on out in the open, then squirrel away everything else in one of five categories: completed (yay!), short, medium, and long WIPs, then a catch-all category for everything that doesn’t really fit anywhere else.

The Outlining Process

To demonstrate and (hopefully) have a little fun, I’m going to pick a half-baked idea from the “WTF – Miscellany” category and create a new tab as if I’m actually going to write it! So, without further ado, let’s dive in and begin outlining for a multi-chapter AU fic wherein Rogal Dorn and Perturabo are high school girls’ volleyball coaches!

First Page: Tags ‘n Such

I often hear that tags can be the hardest part for writers, which is interesting because this is usually where I start! Something about seeing my fic in the summary format it will eventually appear in on AO3 is very motivating to me, and helps guide my writing. You can always add/change later.

Here is the template I use for easy copy/pasting!

Title: Fandom(s): Rating: Category: Archive Warnings: Relationship(s): Character Tags: Other tags: Summary:

And here’s a screenshot of my first pass for this WIP:

This gives me a chance to talk about one of my FAVORITE writing hacks, which is… [BRACKET TEXT].

I don’t know about everyone else, but my brain consistently feels the need to get everything perfect on the first try, which is very unhelpful and actively counter-productive! I’ve found that when I can’t get the phrasing of something just right, or I’m still not sure what I’m going for, putting some brackets around the text in question and just scribbling whatever’s in my mind at the moment allows me to move on without getting bogged down.

If it’s in brackets, I give myself permission to be silly, OOC, anachronistic, or messy, and boy is it a lifesaver sometimes.

Once I have the AO3 info fields done, I draw a little line below the summary and start filling in what I call the “brainstorm space” (that inevitable turns into a mini-outline I need to move over to another page at some point). This is another place I allow myself to be messy. I scribble down thoughts on narrative structure, inspirations, setting, key moments/scenes, themes, motifs, stuff I absolutely need to include, and any overarching things that will be helpful to have before planning in earnest.

Here’s what it looks like for this fic:

Not much there now, but it’s a start, and that’s what outlining is all about!

Second Page: Detailed Outline

A bit of a note here – I used to have a separate page for a “mini-outline,” i.e. a less detailed version, but the brainstorm space basically serves this purpose now, so it’s less common.

This is where the actual structural planning starts to take place. I’ve gotten into the habit of using bracket text here, too, to serve as shorthand summaries of each point. For a multi-chapter fic, I’ll also make sure to note where I think the chapter boundaries will fall, though obviously this is subject to change.

So, a barebones one for this fic might look something like this:

There’s not much there right now, but that’s fine, because (1) it’s in bracket text and (2) this is just the skeletal structure for what comes next: filling it in as you get inspiration.

My brain tends to want to write longfics, but never linearly, of course. Sometimes I get raw bursts of inspiration for scenes, so the way I work with this is to scribble (on my phone, on the computer, in a physical notebook) whatever it is down at the moment I get it, then plug it in to the existing outline later. This way, I end up building a pretty comprehensive plan for the fic before I even open a word document, and it’s easier to make big choices like chapter contents, scene order, and story progression without feeling like I need to tear apart something that’s already fairly set in stone.

Here's an example of what a partially filled-in outline looks like, from my Celefax Gothic Mystery AU WIP:

Note that this one is in chart form, which is what I usually go with for longfics for better separation of scenes and ideas.

Pagestravaganza: Additional Pages for Longfics

For one-shots and shorter multi-chapter fics, typically the Tags/Brainstorming and Detailed Outline pages are enough to get me ready to write, but for longfics, there’s a lot more to think about, and additional places to take notes can be helpful.

Here’s an example of all the pages in the tab for that Celefax AU I mentioned above, which has a lot of characters and worldbuilding and all sorts of things that would be difficult to encapsulate in an outline alone:

For one of my other longfic WIPs, I also have a page where I write down revision notes for the parts I’ve already written as they come to me, so it’s easy to refer back to during the editing process (which I could write a whole other post about).

Another thing I sometimes like to do, especially for one-shots or fics that are from only one character’s POV, is write out a paragraph or two about character emotional arcs. Plot is great, but it can be hard to know where that takes you if you don’t know where each character is starting out and where they end up.

To summarize: The sky’s the limit here. Whatever you need to do to make sure everything comes together, however you need to organize it, however little makes it into the final draft, your outlining/planning document is for you, and you shouldn’t get too bogged down into what needs to be there or whether it’s clean and pretty. As long as it’s helpful to you, it is serving its purpose admirably, and even if it isn’t you’re still learning what does and doesn’t work for you. The way I outline is a constantly evolving process, and different things work for different fics. Feel free to play around!

Writing the Dang Thing

This is the end result, the task for which all your outlining has (hopefully) prepared you!

I’ll be honest: I loathe first drafts. (See above comment about everything needing to be perfect the first time around.)

It’s probably for this reason that I outline so fastidiously, because when I plop my bracket text outline and any pre-written snippets into my first draft, it feels so much less daunting than staring at a blank page.

I can start to fill in the pieces I neglected (scene setting, always), figure out where there might be a need for more connective tissue, and tackle the bite-sized chunks my bracket text outline has created one at a time.

I keep doing that until, ta da! A workable first draft emerges, and we move on to editing, my beloved.

Hopefully this has been interesting/helpful, and please please pleeeeease feel free share your own methods and thoughts and funny bracket text!

#fanfiction #writing #writeblr #warhammer 40000 #rogal dorn #perturabo #barabas dantioch #alexis polux #celestine #katarinya greyfax

[gloomforrestrunes]

It's okay if you'd rather not share, but I'm wanting to start a webcomic and I'm not really sure how to script it. I know that since I'm the only one working on it, the script only needs to make sense to me, but I'm still kinda stuck lol.

How do you script Runes?

scripting is definitely easier once you have a relatively solid idea of what events happen in your story! if you don't know what your webcomic is going to be about yet, i'd make a timeline first and figure out the very beginning and the very end of your story, then you can slowly figure out the rest from there!

as for scripting itself, what i did is create a summary of each chapter in runes. like you said, it only has to be so you understand what's happening in the chapter, so the summary itself doesnt have to be completely coherent haha. its basically just a big block of text that describes what i want the characters to do, where they are, the purpose of each scene, and sometimes ill write specific lines or interactions that i know i want to appear in the comic.

after doing that, i break down the chunks of text and turning it into actual dialogue! heres an example of what my scripts look like.

(as a quick aside- i use an app called werdsmith to script. but you can use literally any writing application haha)

its important to know that you can always go back and revise things. if a scene doesnt work or if a line isnt hitting, you can change it!! even when you think you're done with a script, you may find that you want to add or change things and thats okay!

thats how i work my way through scripting! i know it seems a little daunting at first, thats just how creating an entire story is, but my advice is to literally just go for it! if you have a story you want to tell then its worth telling.

i wish you luck!!!

#ask #anon #forrest's advice

[x-authorship-x]

Hihi 😃👋🏾

Air: What’s the easiest part of writing for you?

Rock: How do you deal with writer’s block?

Hi, gaymergal! ☺️

Air: what's the easiest part of writing for you?

Hmm planning a fic, because all it takes is a spark of an idea and then the whole thing spirals very very quickly and often grows a chapter outline almost immediately after. As for the actual writing process, it's binge-typing the first draft because I don't have to think, I just have to have a daydream of the scene and then I just describe it as best as I can, following fluid thought tangents and skipping parts I don't have the words for yet. I can knock out about 5-12K a day at this stage if the mood is right - it's very very messy but it's there and that's what matters!

Rock: How do you deal with writers block?

Hm so my block usually tries to creep in between chapters that I know are necessary but I'm not super enjoying writing. To beat writers block before it can fully kick in, I can normally rollover from finishing one chapter to writing the next by a simple but effective process:

1) as soon as the chapter is 'finished', i open up my master/plan doc and rewrite the bulletpoint plan for that chapter as a summary of main events and details instead. Any new information about characters or places gets updated in my self-made info lists too (makes it so much easier to control-F search facts, especially in huge multi-series fics)

2) i immediately edit the next chapter bulletpoint to flow from the previous chapter better; sometimes it's a complete change that effects more chapters or the whole plotline and sometimes it's barely anything.

3) i immediately set up and format the new chapter, copying in the (revised) bulletpoint plan and separating it out into sections

4) i trick myself into starting to binge write the main text! By splitting the bulletpoint into sections, a big chapter becomes bite size so it's easier to think 'ill do this bit' and then follow it with 'may as well do the next one too' and, before you know it, you're at the bottom.

5) When the first draft is done, I swap to my phone to edit using my predictive keyboard and the chapters roll over like that!

For writers block that comes from a break from fic writing and then getting back into an 'old' or 'abandoned' story... I focus on remembering what made me happy about it, what i was so excited to get to and write and post. When I stop writing, it's usually because I'm too busy IRL, my interest jumps to another thing, or... I get burnt out. To draw myself back, once I have the time and space (and we should all take as long as we want or need, fanfic is supposed to be fun so, writers, please don't torture yourself with guilt!) I end up looking over comments left by readers and my favourite unwritten scenes. If I'm overwhelmed by a project, then it's vital that I relearn how to take it step by step (finish this scene first, then this chapter, this plot device, this arc.. this fic, then move to the next part, etc etc)... Basically, remember to be gentle with yourself, keep that spark of excitement alive, and don't be above tricking yourself into binge writing lmao!

Thanks for playing! ✨

[babymetaldoll]

I just want you (Chip Taylor / Reader)

Requested: Yes

Word counting: 3.5K

Summary: What would it be like to be married to Chip Taylor? Would it include a lot of women trying to hit on him?

Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of 68 Kill.

A/N: Hello, beautiful people! sorry, I've been a little absent here, but writing my series has taken most of my time! Also, I feel a little blocked, and my personal life has been a mess. But, here it is: my first Chip Taylor fic. Have you guys seen 68 Kill? I love that movie, and I love Chip so much. He deserves the world. I hope you guys like this little story!

Masterlist

---

It wasn’t like I didn’t know my husband was handsome, ‘cos you had to be blind not to see his face was made by the gods, and all of his features were simply perfect. I just didn’t know every woman would flirt with him everywhere we were all the time.

And they weren’t even subtle about it. No. They made it very obvious when they looked at Chip each time they stopped by his work. They wanted him.

After all those years together, a part of me had made peace with that. I couldn’t stop them. He was hot, he didn’t want their attention, but he wasn’t rude or anything like it. Chip Taylor was a very polite man who was also very blind to the attention his looks gave him.

Chip owned a small pet sitting business that had started to really take off in the last few months. He had some savings that he used to buy a house when we first started dating. He lived there until we got married, and then we bought a bigger place outside the town. That’s when he decided to turn his old home into his own pet sitting business. And it was a hit. Chip is fantastic with animals. He is great with everybody, but pets just… melt with him. I think they can see the kindness of his soul.

Chip Taylor deserves the best things in life ‘cos he is the best man I’ve ever met. I’ve loved him since the day it took him almost half an hour to walk over and talk to me in the bar we met.

- “Every time a pretty face pops up, my brain turns into a potato- he explained, flustered ‘cos he kept stuttering as he asked for my number.

He was too sweet. Too cute. And he loved me. He had a ring that said so. But again, that didn’t stop most women who met him from flirting with him.

- “Here he is. Little Rascal had a great day today”- Chip walked to the front yard with a french bulldog, who kept barking, trying to get an extra treat from him. I smiled from a safe distance, reading a book sitting on a porch while Chip met with the dog owner. And she was as excited as Rascal was.

- “Hi baby! Did you have a good day today?”- the lady held the leash and caressed her dog’s head a few times before returning her attention fully to my husband.

- “Thank you for taking care of him.”

- “You are very welcome, Kim. It’s my job.”

- “No, it’s more than that. Rascal hates strangers, and he has been an angel with you since day one. I tell you, Chip, you are someone special.”

I know my husband blushed, ‘cos he is terrible with compliments. So he just shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. His shirt raised, showing his very toned midsection. And I swear, I had to force myself to stay put on that chair, ‘cos the way that woman looked at my husband was enough to make my blood boil. I wanted to run over and push her away from him. I wished I could tell her to get her dog and get the fuck out of our property.

But no. I didn’t. Instead, I tried to keep on reading, which was honestly impossible. But at least I didn’t move from my chair. I just stared at that scene, trying to control the urges of smashing that woman’s head against her car.

- “So, do you have plans for the weekend?”- the woman asked him, smiling flirtatiously

- “Not really.”- not the smartest answer, I’ll give you that.

- “Great! that means you can’t say no! I am having a small get-together at my place this Friday. You should totally come.”

- “Thank you, Kim, but...”

- “I’ll text you my address. I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Chip was awkward, he felt pushed to say he’d go, but I knew he didn’t want to. If he did, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Besides, he wouldn’t usually make plans without asking me first. A part of me wanted to run and help him out of that awkward situation, but I knew he had to do it on his own. Yes, he was a grown-up, but after knowing everything he had gone through before we met, a big part of me wanted to take care of him constantly. I didn’t want anything wrong ever to happen to Chip. He didn’t deserve anything bad.

- “Thanks, Kim, really, but… I think I should ask my wife first”- he whispered and smiled kindly at the woman, who didn’t hide the disappointment from her face. I have the feeling she never actually saw the ring on my husband’s finger.

- “Wife? I had no idea you were married, Chip”- he chuckled and nodded as the woman tried to act normal again. But she couldn’t.

- “Yes, I’ve been married for the last ten months.”

- “Just ten months? Well, she is a lucky woman…”

- “Thank you”- Chip petted Rascal’s head and added- “But I am sure I am the lucky one to have her. I still can’t believe she actually married me.”

- “Come on, Chip! Any woman would be happy with a man like you.”

And that was when that woman crossed the line and rubbed my husband’s arm for longer than necessary. He froze and looked at her, not knowing how to get out of that situation. Chip is a sweet soul who still has some significant issues when it comes to setting boundaries.

I jumped from my chair and walked over quickly, with a big smile on my face. The woman turned to me and raised an eyebrow, clearly not knowing who I was.

- “Hello, sorry to interrupt you, boo, but it’s getting late for our date.”

We didn’t have a date that night. But well, now we did.

Chip frowned, confused, and waited for me to explain a little more what I was saying. But, instead, I just smiled and held his hand, making sure that the woman’s hand was as far from him as possible.

- “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N), Chip’s wife.”- I said and waved.

- “Kimberly, nice to meet you.”

- “So you are Rascal’s mom. He is a sweetheart”- I kneeled and petted Rascal’s head behind his ears, right where I knew he liked it. Kim just nodded and smiled.

- “Ok, we should go, it’s getting late. Bye Chip”- she waved quickly, walking to her car. My husband said goodbye and wrapped an arm around my waist as I stood by his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

- “We are not going to her “little get-together,” by the way”- I whispered, and he chuckled.

- “Good, ’cause I didn’t want to go either. I actually had plans for the weekend, but I didn’t want to discuss them with her.”- I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and felt his big hands caressing the lower part of my back.

- “Which plans?”

- “I’m planning to stay in bed with my wife the whole weekend, watch movies, kiss her a lot, and maybe asking for pizza.”

- “You had me at ˝stay in bed,” Chip Taylor”- I giggled and kissed his cheek- “She was flirting with you, by the way.”

- “I don’t care if she tried to flirt. I only have eyes for you, moonbeam”- I chuckled at the cheesy nickname and felt his lips on mine. They felt warm and soft and filled with love.

But it wasn’t always so easy to shake off the thoughts of a woman flirting with Chip. Unfortunately, sometimes it was harder to remain calm. Some women were more aggressive with their flirting. Some were actually way hotter than me, and sometimes that makes you doubt yourself.

I didn’t know Liza or Violet, so I never knew if they were prettier, more intelligent, or sexier than me. I couldn’t compare or compete with them either, ‘cos they were dead. But some random women made my life a little more challenging from time to time.

- “Chip? Chip Taylor?”- a soft woman’s voice interrupted our conversation and forced my husband to turn around, feeling now also her hand on his shoulder. We were at our favorite bar, having a drink, celebrating the end of the week and another successful month of Chip’s small business. We were chatting about our days, sitting at our usual table, when interrupted.

- “Anna Davis? Hi! How are you?! Long time no see!”- my husband stood up and hugged the stranger like long-lost friends reunited. I had never heard of any “Anna” before. I was trying to remember if I did.

- “I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing here?”- Anna said and laughed- “I can’t believe it’s really you!”- and so, they hugged again.

- “Hi”- I waved from the table and smiled at the two of them as they moved apart.

- “I’m so sorry, babe. (Y/N), this is Anna, my neighbor when I was in middle school. Anna, this is (Y/N), my wife.”

- “Hi, nice to meet you”- she shook my hand and smiled at me for a second, and then turned to my husband again and continued catching up.

Chip looked happy and excited to see her. He didn’t have many friends, he still didn’t know how to trust most people, probably why he decided to work with animals instead. He had a good relationship with Jim, the boy who helped him clean, and with a few classmates from the community college. But that was it.

- “I can’t believe you are here!”- Chip was beaming- “Are you with someone?”

- “My friends were leaving. I’m visiting one of my best friends, who moved here a few years ago. But she has to work tomorrow morning, so she wanted to go home.”

- “Do you wanna sit with us for a while?”- Chip asked her and turned to me smiling. Of course, I couldn’t say no. Well, he didn’t actually ask; he just looked at me, and I moved my chair to make room for one more on the table.

- “I would love to! Thank you!.”

I loved the idea of meeting Anna, at first. I didn’t know many people from my husband’s past, basically just his parents. The fact she was his friend growing up sounded amazing, and it meant I could finally talk with someone who knew him when he was a kid and could tell me more stories about my husband.

But Anna had other plans. My husband blinded Anna. She basically ignored me, and he was so excited to see her and talk to her, he didn’t even notice I was being left out of the whole conversation.

At first, it was ok. Chip wanted to catch up with Anna, know what she was doing with her life, and all that. So he asked for her parents and family. Apparently, they were pretty close growing up.

- “Remember each Friday we had a secret sleepover?”- she asked and laughed. My husband nodded and sipped his drink.

- “Yeah! I would sneak into your house and watch a movie.”

- “You know, my parents knew you were coming to hang out after curfew. They just didn’t think it was wrong”- she added and laughed- “I’m just glad they didn’t know about the day we tried smoking for the first time!”

Chip burst into laughter, and so did Anna. I just stared at them and sighed. Neither of them explained the story. They were just too caught up in each other to even notice I was there.

Yes, I was feeling jealous of Chip’s long-lost childhood friend. I knew it made no sense, but somehow, he completely forgot I existed when she was there. Yes, it was probably ‘cos he was surprised to bump into her at a bar on a random night after so many years.

But the more I looked at her, the more I realized she was gorgeous. She had long legs, beautiful golden hair, green eyes. The girl could go to a freaking beauty pageant and win it. Besides, Anna wasn’t acting friendly, if you ask me. She kept rubbing my husband’s arm, repeating how excited she was to see him, and saying over and over again how good he looked… it was a little too much.

- “I tell you, Chip, you haven’t changed a bit!”- Anna smiled and looked into his chocolate eyes, and I swear she nearly sighed. I couldn’t blame her. He is dreamy. But he is my husband, and it felt wrong.

- “Neither have you,”- he added and turned to me for a second. I looked kindly into his eyes, knowing he was happy, and that was enough to make me feel happy too.

- “Can I get you another drink, moonbeam?”- he asked me and stood up.

- “Yes, penguin, please”- Chip nodded and blushed as I called him by his favorite nickname and then turned to Anna.

- “Another?”

- “Sure!”

And suddenly, we were on our own.

- “So, how long have you been married?”- Anna asked me and looked at me innocently.

- “A little over ten months.”

- “Just married! Congratulations. You must still be living the honeymoon!”

- “Yes, we are.”- I giggled and turned to look at Chip, waiting for our drink at the bar. It wasn’t hard being stuck at the honeymoon phase with him. Every day, he made every day feel like the first day we were together, even after three years of dating and ten months married.

- “We used to date when we were kids,”- Anna simply said and chuckled - “It was very childish, but I was his first kiss.”

- “Really?”- I smiled at her, making my best not to look jealous at all. “That’s so cute!”

- “He is adorable. He was the sweetest boy growing up.”- Anna added and kept her eyes on Chip. But for a few seconds, I could see the longing in them, and my struggle not to show how jealous I was got a little harder.

- “So when was the last time you saw Chip?”- I asked and kept my eyes on her, reading her expressions. It took her a few extra seconds to stop staring at him to turn and look at me.

- “When I moved out of town when I was fifteen.”- she sighed and chuckled- “Seems it was a lifetime ago.”

- “Ok, here are your drinks,”- Chip appeared and smiled- “Plus, I ordered some more nachos, ‘cos I’m getting hungry.”- I chuckled and held his hand upon the table, playing with his fingers between mine. Chip looked at me and opened his mouth to say something when Anna interrupted him.

- “Remember that summer you broke your arm ‘cos you fell from the tree in Shawn’s backyard?”

And my husband laughed, forgetting what he was going to tell me.

I stood in front of the mirror and tried to fix my makeup. I looked tired. I was tired. It was Friday night, and I wasn’t twenty-three anymore. I was weary, and all I could think of was getting into my bed with my husband and getting good twelve-hour sleep.

But he and Anna were still talking and having a blast together, remembering the good old times. Now, if you ask me, I had the feeling Anna wanted to do more than just talking to my husband, but he was oblivious to any of her intentions. That was until I walked out of the bathroom and saw Anna’s arm wrapped around Chip as they were dancing.

She was dancing with my husband, and he was laughing. Ok, that hurt. It hurt a lot.

I sat at our table and drank what was left of my drink. I stared at them for a moment and evaluated my options. I could storm out of that place, maybe make a scene and yell. But no, I trusted my husband. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me or even cheat on me with her. No. He was naive and a little awkward. But by the way Anna’s hands moved on his body, clearly, she wasn’t naive at all.

- “Oh! I’m sorry!”- Anna said laughing when they reached back our table- “I just asked Chip to dance with me ‘cos I love that song.”

- “That’s ok”- I smiled at her and held my husband’s hand tight upon the table.

- “But Chip is such a great dancer! He really knows how to move!”- Anna was asking for it. She wanted to be smacked. But I behaved.

- “He really does,”- I answered and smiled

- “I hope you are not jealous!”- I turned to her and frowned, pretending to be confused

- “Of course not! Why would I?”

- “I don’t know! It’s just that… he was mine way before he was yours and…”

- “He isn’t mine”- I cut her off, and for once, my voice stopped being nice and friendly- “And he is definitely not yours. He is not a dog, Anna, he is a person, and the only owner of his soul is himself.”

Anna stared at me in silence, and Chip wide opened his eyes, surprised by my tone of voice.

- “What I’m trying to say is that… I met him when…”

- “I know what you are trying to imply Anna, you’ve been trying to do it ever since you sat at our table. You feel like you need to prove something, but you don’t. Really.”

Chip held my hand tight and kissed it sweetly. He didn’t say anything to me. He just looked at me with apologetic eyes as I cut him a short smile.

- “Ok, I think I better go now”- Anna stood up and just waved- “It was great seeing you again, Chip.”

My husband smiled and waved as Anna walked away. Then, when he was sure she had left the place, he turned to me. I sipped what was left of my drink and sighed.

- “Sorry if I was rude”- my words were a whisper only Chip could hear.

- “No, moonbeam. You weren’t rude at all. I’m sorry.”

- “Chip Taylor, you didn’t do anything wrong”- I leaned and kissed his lips softly, cupping his face with both hands.

- “I feel like I did.”

- “No, boo, really. She was… clearly trying to get under your belt.”

- “I shouldn’t have danced with her, but she pushed me...”- Chip excused himself and kissed my hand again, as I still held his face and caressed her cheeks with my thumbs.

- “Yeah, you should work on that “No” thing a little harder,”- I whispered and chuckled.

- “Sorry if she made you feel jealous. I had a huge crush on her when we were kids.”

- “She said she was your first kiss”- Chip opened my mouth, but no word came from it for a few seconds.

- “Funny, I told her that just ‘cos she said I was her first kiss, but actually my first kiss was with her cousin Alice.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter as Chip looked at me with guilty eyes as if that was the biggest secret he had about his past.

- “Well, I bet if I run, I can still catch her!! I need to tell her the news!!”- I said and stood up, just to feel Chip’s arms around me, protectively.

- “Let her think that. We all know who all my kisses belong to now.”

Chip held me tight and close to him as his lips rubbed mine slowly. I felt my head spin as his tongue slowly touched mine, deepening the kiss. I couldn’t help but moan at the sensation of Chip’s sweet and passionate kiss. He made sure to make me feel how much he loved him every time he kissed me. In a weird way, Chip’s kisses always felt like our first and last. I think he was always trying to show me his feelings, ‘cos his previous trauma taught him he didn’t know when a kiss could be the last.

- “I love you so much, Mrs. Taylor,”- he whispered, and the title made my knees feel weak- “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

- “I love you more, Mr. Taylor,”- I replied and kissed his lips sweetly one more time- “And just between you and me, I am completely yours.”- I confessed and giggled nervously.

- “I am yours too, moonbeam. You own my heart, and I only want you.”- he whispered and kissed me one more time.

- “You just want me?”- I repeated, and he nodded, looking into my eyes filled with love- “Of all those women who wanna do you, you just want me?”

- “Which women?”- he asked me, clearly confused

- “A lot of women out there keep giving you the fuck eyes.”

- “What?! No way”

- “Do you think Kim invited you to her house for a small get-together? She wanted to get under your belt, penguin.”

- “But I am your penguin, that means I am not looking for any other woman. I just want you.”

- “Just me,”- I repeated again, and he nodded.

- “Just you, Mrs. Taylor”- I sighed, pleased, and closed my eyes for a second “Wanna go home?”

- “You still have to dance with me,”- I pouted, and he held my hand.

- “Whatever my wife wants.”

--

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561 @all-tings-diego

#Chip Taylor #Matthew Gray Gubler #68 kill #chip taylor x reader #chip taylor x fem!reader #Matthew Gray Gubler Fluff #fluff #matthew Gray Gubler fanfiction #fanfiction #68 kill fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes

[another-fantasy-world]

hi could you please make another alice cullen x fem!reader?? i really really love your last one you made, it was so beautiful <3

||AN|| Thank youuu! I'm happy you enjoyed my last one, also, thank you for requesting!

 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆      ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Pairing: Alice Cullen x Fem! Reader

Summary: Alice with a human girlfriend who’s more vampire-like than her.

Warnings: None? Fluff. Happy Couple.

Word Count: 2,084 words

GIF isn’t mine

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆      ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were always the night owl, lived off coffee and good books and you only wear dark colors. Your routine includes waking up at 10 pm, Cooking and eating your dinner at approximately 11:30 pm, Studying until 6 am, Taking a shower, Make your coffee, and be at school at 7:00 am where you meet up with you too-bright-and-jolly girlfriend, Alice Cullen. After school you then either head home to your own house, or to the Cullens household, either way you crash into anything soft and just ultimately pass out, and your cycle repeats. Sometimes your girlfriend would join you in studying even if she didn’t need it, Sometimes you’d do other things with your girlfriend, some of the things you do aren’t appropriate for a house full of vampires with super hearing, and not to mention her nosy brother who had the ability to read minds. 

“Get out of the way before I pummel you to the ground asshole.” You grumbled to the guy who’s blocking your way and was staring at your girlfriend like she’s a piece of meat. You hated that but you couldn’t do anything. One, pretty sure it’s illegal to kill someone even if you’re thinking about all the ways you could and Two, you miss you girlfriend’s cold hand holding yours.

You see him shiver before grabbing his things and scrambling away, his goons hot on his tail. 

“You have the most creative mind I have ever come across. Really? Using his blood as paint after you use gamma rays to blow up his uhm. Yeah. Where would you even get gamma rays?” Edward scrunches his face as they all approach you.

“Pretty sure Carlisle would hook me up with some.” You smirked then kissed your girlfriend’s forehead, You held her hand in yours as she giggled, getting out of her trance like state.

“Carlisle denied.” She kissed your cheek before dragging you inside the school, where they all separated like the goddamn sea in that one bible story.

Safe to say, you were pretty feared in the whole town. Socially isolated, always has a cup of coffee in hand, dark marks under your eyes, a blank looks often settles on your face,always had earphones in, glared at people who made your family uncomfortable, scared people without trying and a student could’ve sworn he saw you drink someones blood which he says was inside your coffee cup. It was beetroot juice since you ran out of coffee but needed something hot to drink, so you made beetroot juice, with lots and lots of sugar. You were dubbed as a vampire or a witch, which was hilarious considering your girlfriend is a vampire. A bright, happy, sparkling vampire who doesn’t sleep in coffins whatsoever. 

“Have a good day baby, see you at lunch.” Alice kissed your cheek before bouncing in her classroom followed by Emmett who winked at you and Rosalie who raised her brows at you and told you to behave.

“I always behave!” You argued with a small pout on your lips, barely noticeable but Rosalie just smirks before walking gracefully into the room, sitting in between Emmett and Alice who just shooed you away. 

“It’s never a good day.” you whispered while walking away, fully knowing that they could hear you.

Lunch came so slow that by the time you sat at your usual spot, you already had thoughts on murdering your history teacher who ‘unintentionally’ spat at your face and drizzled her spit on your face like a waterfall.

“It’s only been half a day Y/LN, You’ll get through it.” Rosalie slides her tray of food over to you while petting your head.

“i don’t understand why you choose to go through this over and over again.” You groaned, laying your head on Alice’s shoulder. They just laughed and proceeded to talk about things that you don’t even bother to listen to.

“You’re coming over today right?” Alice asked you with that bell like voice that you so loved

“Hmm? Oh yeah, Cuddles?” You whispered to her, internally groaning at how soft you’ve become for your girlfriend. 

“Yes please. You’re warm.”

“And you are freezing cold.” You retorted, stealing some of her fries

“It comes with the package. Now come on, I’ll walk you to your room.” She pats you head while moving away, packing her things. Which low-key made you whine.

“But I always escort you to your room.” You complained

“That’s true, but I figured you wouldn’t be opposed to change.” She smiled, offering her hand which you took.

“Edward?” 

“Nope. Not telling you. I am not going on another shopping spree with that little devil of yours.” He sped walked away, dragging Bella with him

“I think you traumatized him real bad, Ali.” You chuckled

“Good.” She exclaimed

12 midnight, and you just woke up to Alice holding you while reading a book, She smiles at you before tapping her lips, asking for a kiss. You shook your head no, trying to get out of her arms to brush your teeth.

“Nope, kisses first before brushing.” She grips you tighter

“Eww. Morning breath. Alice please!” She just grins before showering your face with kisses.

“There. You can go now, Esme just finished your dinner.” She beamed at you, pushing you into the large bathroom that she has before sitting on the sink.

“Uhm...” You stare at her, confused

“What?” 

The both of you took an hour long shower, you didn’t even need to shower, Alice just persuaded you into doing so. Earning you different looks from different vampires the moment you walked down the stairs.

A suggestive smirk from Rosalie and a laughing Emmett A smirking Jasper A confused Bella with a disgusted looking Edward A smiling Esme holding a bowl of food  And lastly, A laughing Carlisle.

“Oh my God.” You groaned, walking to the dining room, thanking Esme for the food. 

“Really Y/N?” complained Edward who’s cuddling a still confused Bella

“What? Just because you decide to wait until marriage does not mean I have to.” You smirked, winking at Edward who would be blushing if he was human.

“Don’t talk while your mouth is full.” Scolded Esme who’s also trying to keep her laugh in

“Yes Mom. Anyways, Bella I love you, but you look like you’re about to shut down and ready to be pawned like an old computer.” You told her, biting into a chicken leg

“i’ll take her home.” Edward says, grabbing his keys and waits for Bella.

“Why is she here anyways” Grumbled Rosalie, who everyone ignored while you just tapped her head

“Let’s play chess when you get back!” You shouted after him

You finish your food quickly and washed your plates, much to the distaste of Esme, leading your giggling short girlfriend to the couch beside Jasper.

“Jasper~ Wanna watch documentaries of wars and judge everything they did wrong?” You ask Jasper who’s nodding at your request. Alice plopping herself on your lap as she stares at you laughing and smiling with her family.

She’s really happy to have found you the way she did, She reminisced the time when the two of you first met. You were browsing racks and racks of clothes, taking black colored blouses, shirts and button-ups that are your size before walking into a dressing room. While you were in the room, she started to have a vision about the two of you together, having dates and you carrying her shopping bags in this same store, making her all giddy. She was with Rosalie at that time, who just stared at her with a look of slight confusion as she basically bounced to you. You at first was taken aback that someone was actually talking to you, and it was a cute girl at that. Alice greeted you with a smile and a hello before handing you a green blazer and tie, telling you emerald green compliments your eyes and outfit before paying for what you were buying, writing her name and number on the receipt, leaving you dumbfounded at the store

At first she thought that the both of you wouldn’t work out, especially because of all the chaos that recently happened to her family and leaving forks. But you made the effort of always texting her little notes and telling her how your day was, even if she didn’t reply, slowly she felt herself fall more in love with you, letting herself reply and indulge in the visions that she had that involved you. Once she told her family about you, they were a bit skeptical, especially since Carlisle tended to your knuckle wounds one too many times. But upon seeing the love sick look on both your eyes and the loud complaining of Edward at how sickeningly cute your thoughts were of each other, they eventually accepted you as one of their own despite being human. 

And now she stares in awe as you spent about 2 hours criticizing documentaries with Jasper before Edward comes home, and when he did, you played a couple rounds of chess (You always lost, which made Edward laugh every time.) before she decided that she’s bored with you losing to her brother every round and just decided to pick you up and dash to her room. 

“What was that for love?” You ask her when she settled herself in your arms

“I just. I was bored and I realized that it’s been too long since we cuddled.”

“It’s literally been 4 hours since I woke up bumblebee.” You ran your hand through her hair

“I missed you. 4 hours is too long.”

“Awe. I missed you too. Want to pick up where we left off on How to Kill a Mockingbird?” You ask her

“Yes please, I love hearing your voice.” She puts her face on the crook of your neck as you read to her, one of your hand intertwined with hers.

Even though she can’t fall asleep anymore, she loves the way your voice sounds, it calms her down and she could easily compare the “peace” she feels right now to the “peace” she could remember feeling when she was asleep. She really did love you and she doesn’t hesitate to let you know. In multiple various ways. 

Like now, she cut off your reading when her soft lips touched yours. You immediately let go of the book to hold her face lovingly as you put all your feelings into the kiss like you always do. You always felt like your words are never enough, so you always try to express your feeling through physical affection.

As if remembering you need your air, she slowly pulls away, her forehead touching yours as you catch your breath.

“I love you” she whispers, kissing your nose

“I love you too.” You smiled, pecking her lips

Your moment was then ruined when Emmett started banging his fists on the door, loudly exclaiming that you all have to get ready for school. You growled lowly, rolling your eyes.

“Alright! Geez.” You grumpily picked up the book that was tossed to the floor before walking to Alice’s closet where you also keep some of your clothes in...

Only to see that they weren’t there.

“Uhm Alice? Darling? Where are my clothes?” You ask her

She walks to where you are, peeking in slightly before pecking your lips.

“Oops. Accidentally sent all them to your house. Guess you have to wear my clothes then.” She smirked at you, pulling out a lemon yellow trench coat, a rosy pink turtleneck and hot pink pants with a blue belt.

“Baby, Alice. Love. Darling. Bumblebee. Please don’t do this to me.” You pleaded but she just shook her head, handing you the clothes before threatening you with no kisses and cuddles for a week if you refuse.

Your shoulders sag with defeat as you change into the clothes Alice gave you, pouting while walking down the stairs of the Cullen Household. Alice smiles brightly as she hooked her arm around yours. Chuckles and giggles erupted the moment they saw you which made you grumble and murmur underneath your breath as you sip your cup of coffee made by Esme.

“You-” 

“Not a word.” You growled out, blushing furiously as you laughing girlfriend holds your hand while walking through the halls of Forks High school. 

Your girlfriend can be annoying at times, add that to her chaotic family, but you would never trade it for anything. Ever.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #Alice Cullen #alice x reader #alice x you #alice cullen x reader #alice/you #cullens x reader #anon #anon asks

[lustfordespair]

always forever

SEASON 15 SPOILERS! Summary: You and Dean are a couple. Knowing what happens in season 15, this is basically you dealing with his death and the fact you were with child when he passed. The guilt of never telling him you were pregnant. It eats you up inside that you’ve lived longer than him but that wait pays off. Also, I listened to Always Forever by Cult on repeat writing this! It’s what inspired it too. Hope y’all enjoy! Warning: Angst, pure angst. Mentions of Death.  Mentions of Pregnancy. Teenager Things. Word Count: 2723

You and me, always forever. 

Say you’ll say never be seperate. 

She sat in the back of the impala confused on why the boys were taking a while, it was just a simple vampire nest to knock out, she knew they’d be able to by themselves due to the fact the Winchester brother’s have been in the hunting business longer than she had. 

I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t she just do the wipeout with the boys? Well she had been keeping a secret, they didn’t question her though when she insisted on waiting. “Those damn boys, what could be taking them so long?” she said aloud, exiting the vehicle and making her way inside. 

Slowly walking in her eyes blinked several times in disbelief at the sight before her. Sam standing before Dean, who was . . impaled? 

“Sam.” she spoke, causing the tall male to turn around. “(Y-Y/n)” he began. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He continued to speak but her thoughts blocked him out as she made her way to Dean. “He’s okay right?” she asked, not expecting an answer. 

“He’s-” 

“No. He’s not!” she placed her hands on Dean cheeks with tears beginning to fall from her eyes, “Dean- Dean! You can wake up now! Y-You’re fine! I know you are!” she reached for his hand for a pulse only to be met with no heartbeat and a hand placed on her shoulder. She turned to Sam.

“W-What are you doing! GET HIM OFF! GET HIM OFF-” she was sobbing at this point, yelling at the younger Winchester, doing as he was told although it pained him to pull his older brother's lifeless body off. He gently laid him on the ground. 

The two sat there for a while, Sam holding a crying (Y/n) in his arms. 

--------------------------------------------

It was the day after they had Dean’s “funeral”, burning it more was. 

(Y/n) made her way to the fridge, pouring herself a glass of milk and herself down at the table, silently reading a book to herself. 

“So were you ever gonna tell him?” 

She looked up to the door to be met with Sam’s gaze, “Tell who what-”

“Dean.” he spoke, holding up a pregnancy test he had found in the trash a few days back. Yeah a few days, he had knew but never really knew when to bring it up. 

She took a drink of her milk and sighed, a single tear threatening her eyes. “I was, yeah. Never got to though, you know?” Sam only nodded at her comment and proceeded to grab himself a bowl of cereal. 

Miracle soon walked his way in and barked, causing (Y/n) tp get up from her seat, “Don’t worry boy, I’ll get you some breakfast too.” She got out a pan and some eggs, even before Dean passed she’d always cook Miracle an egg or two. 

“Really you made the dog eggs but not me?” a deep voice asked. 

She turned and smiled, “Yes, Dean I did. Not my fault you didn’t want to get up a little earlier for breakfast.” 

The male made his way towards (Y/n) and gave her a kiss on the head, then the cheek, her nose, her other cheek, her neck.. and finally on the lips. 

“Ew jeez, if y’all are going to do that go back to your room.” Sam spoke, resulting in a laugh from (Y/n). 

“Well, don’t mind if I do.” Dean swept her off her feet and made his way out the kitchen and to their room. 

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)???”

She blinked a few times before looking at Sam, “What?” she asked. “Uhm, you okay? You drifted off a bit.” he spoke. She realized she was still in the kitchen, she took a deep breath. “Yeah I’m fine, sorry.”

With that the two proceeded on with their day. 

--------------------------------------------

“SAM! SAM! OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO SCREAM!” she shouted.

Sam rushed out of his room and ran to (Y/n)’s with Miracle barking behind, ‘(Y/n!) What’s wrong?” he spotted the girl with her hand on her stomach, leaning over her desk. 

She gulped and looked at the male, “It is damn time Samuel!” and with that Sam panicked. He grabbed the emergency bag they had prepared for the day and made his way to the impala, starting it and driving.

“I can’t believe it’s happening! I’m going to be an uncle!” he shouted turning to the passengers seat, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” he turned the car around realizing he forgot the most important thing to the hospital: (Y/n).

“I’M SORRY I FORGOT YOU” he began, “SHUT UP AND TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL SAM!” “OKAY OKAY SORRY!”

They then made their way to the hospital, both of them knowing they’d remember the day the kid’s Uncle Sammy forget their mom when she was giving birth. Soon, they arrived.

There laid (Y/n) beginning to give birth, squeezing Sam’s hand and yelling at him for letting his brother get her pregnant, as if it was his fault. 

“Come on (Y/n)! One more push!” the doctor shouted. 

She cried, “I can’t.. I can’t anymore!” Tears were forming in her eyes, still holding onto Sam’s hand.

“Hey, you got this babygirl.” 

(Y/n) turned her head the opposite direction of Sam and stared at the love of her life, “Dean..”

“(Y/n), you got this.” he grabbed her hand, “You’re the strongest woman I know, so you push that kid out and be the best mother in the world!” he shouted. He then leaned to her ear and whispered, “I love you.”

She nodded and took a deep breath before pushing one last time.

--------------------------------------------

“Mary!!” 

Giggling could be heard around the house hold, along with Miracle’s barks. 

“Mary Deana Winchester you get your butt in here and put your shoes on now!” (Y/n) shouted. “No! Momma, no!” 

(Y/n) stood in the living room arms crossed, wearing a simple black dress, her hair up and heels. “Mary please, I promise you and I can have a burger night and watch any movie of your choice.” 

Suddenly, a little girl around the age of 4 made her way into the living room, Miracle following behind. “Can we watch Frozen..?” (Y/n) laughed, “Of course.” she made her way to the couch and sat down, watching as Mary grabbed her shoes and climbed up on the couch. 

“Alright little one, ready to go?” she asked, hearing Mary’s little yes in response. (Y/n) picked the little girl up, grabbed her purse and began to make her way out the door.

“You two look beautiful, especially you.”

(Y/n) looked at Dean and smiled, “You’re always for flattering, Winchester.”

He chuckled, “I know.”

“Bye Miracle! We’ll be back soon buddy.”

“Sorry we took a bit! Somebody didn’t wanna put her shoes on.” She spoke. 

“It’s fine! As long as my best man and flower girl is here.” Sam smiled and gave Mary a hug before hugging (Y/n). “Ahem, I’d prefer best lady” she smirked. Sam rolled his eyes, “Hey no matter what you are the best huh?”, “Well of course I am!” she smiled at the younger Winchester’s remark.

“Ah, she looks so cute!” (Y/n) whispered to Sam as Mary walked down the isle happily spreading rose petals around, even handing a few people some directly in their hands. He nodded in agreement. 

“Mommy?” Mary looked up at (Y/n) as they ate a burger, watching Frozen, the pair still in their outfits from the wedding. “Yes, Mary-Dean?” she looked down at the little girl. “Did daddy like burgers?” she asked.

(Y/n) smiled, “Your daddy LOVED burgers.” 

“Really?” Mary asked, “Yeah.” (Y/n) giggled at the girl, she had mustard on the side of her mouth, “Would make a mess like you too.” she spoke as she wiped the mustard off. 

“Alright kiddo! Come on, it’s time for bed.” 

“Mommy, can I sleep with you tonight?” 

“Of course kiddo.”

--------------------------------------------

“I miss you.” 

“I know you do, babe.”

(Y/n) and Dean danced together, it was their wedding. She’d giggle when he’d spin her around and she’s apologize when she’d step on his shoe.

“She asks about you, you know. Mary.”

“Curious about her handsome father?”

She rolled her eyes, “Of course.”

Dean dipped her and pulled her back up. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, her nose, her other cheek, and stopped.

“Hey! You missed the lips buddy.” she spoke. “I know.”

Dean placed his hands on her shoulders, a sad look on his face. “Why haven’t you let go yet?”

“What..?”

“Let go. LET GO. LET GO. LET GO.-”

“Mommy wake up!!” Mary shouted. 

“Wha? Huh?” (Y/n) looked at her daughter, “What is it Mary?” she asked

“You were crying in your sleep..”

--------------------------------------------

“Mary Deana Winchester! It is 12am, your curfew is 10:30 and you know that!”

“Sorry mom, jeez, I was just hanging out with friends.” Mary responded.

“I get that but I told you if you were gonna even be 5 minutes late to text me! Something could’ve happened to you and I wouldn’t know!” (Y/n) shouted.

“Jesus mom calm down! You act like monsters exist, I was just with friends, Avery remember?” Mary spoke. 

(Y/n) scoffed, “I know you weren’t with Avery, she stopped by asking for you while you were gone.” She crossed her arms.

“Fine mom, I was with Tyler what’s it matter?”

“Mary-Dean you know I don’t trust that boy!” 

“I don’t care! It’s my life!”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me little girl.” (Y/n) was furious at this point, which she hated. She hated yelling at Mary cause when she looked into her eyes she always saw Dean’s eyes.

“I can if I want to! And you know what! Sometimes I wish it was you instead of dad. He would’ve been cooler than you in this situation.” Mary made her way upstairs to her room, unaware that her sentence affected (Y/n) greatly. 

“You know she didn’t mean it, babe.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dean. It still hurt.” she placed her hand on her arm and rubbed it, the same way he would when she was upset.

“She’s just a teenager.” he spoke.

“I miss her being small.” (Y/n) turned to the male figure, “And I miss you.” 

--------------------------------------------

Mary and Dean, Sam’s son, always got along, no matter the 4 year age difference. Ever since Sam got married and (Y/n) felt like she wasn’t important to him anymore, they met up every Friday for dinner. Specifically her Dean’s favorite, pizza and burgers.

“Look at those two getting long, how old is Mary again?” Sam asked, beer in his hand.

(Y/n) sighed, “16. Which is so weird to say.” she looked at the kids talking to each other then to Sam. “The other day she said she wish her dad was still here and not me.” 

Sam almost spit up his drink, it wasn’t like he liked to drink a lot of beer anyways, “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” he reassured her. “You’re her only mother, she’s just growing up”

“Yeah and that sucks Sam.” she admitted, “I know, but it happens. We have to deal with it as we get older.” 

(Y/n) scoffed, “Did you just call me old?” Sam raised his hands and shook his head, “No! That’s not what I meant!” She chuckled at his reaction.

Soon, Sam’s wife walked outside with the pizza and burgers. “Mary! Dean! Come dig in!” she shouted.

(Y/n) looked at Sam and Sam looked at her, both with pizza in their hands. 

“Cheers!” they shouted.

“Cheers!”

(Y/n) looked at Dean and smiled.

“Dork.”

--------------------------------------------

Mary came home crying.

“Mary? What’s wrong?” (Y/n) asked as the girl ran to her room and slammed the door. 

She sighed, realizing she may know exactly what happened, what she predicted. 

(Y/n) grabbed the container of ice cream in the fridge and made her way upstairs, “Mary? Love, it’s mom.” she spoke.

“Go away.” Mary responded.    

Silence.

“I got ice cream.”

Just like that the door opened.

She made her way to Mary’s bed and sat down, “What happened, love?” she asked. “You were right about Tyler.” Mary sniffled, “He broke up with me for Avery.”

“Avery? Seriously- you know what I never liked that girl in the first place with that one weird tooth and the way she’d wear pig tails and-” Mary giggled at her mother’s comments and grabbed the ice cream and a spoon form (Y/n)’s hand. 

“I’m sorry about what I said 2 weeks ago..” Mary paused. “I love you mom.”

“I love you too, Mary.” she kissed Mary’s forehead and they both dug in.

“Ya know, I’d beat that Tyler kid’s ass for hurting my little girl.”

(Y/n) giggled “ I know you would Dean.”

“I know you would.”

--------------------------------------------

(Y/n) never thought she’d live to see the day. She always thought it was gonna be her next, not Sam.

She sat there in the church, Mary by her side, holding onto her hand.

She really couldn’t believe it. While most told her she was lucky to outlive the Winchester’s, they didn’t understand that- she never wanted to. She’s still living her life, she watched the people she’s loved pass and it affected her a lot. Especially today, being Sam’s funeral. 

“Come on mom.” Mary began, “Let’s get you home.”

Mary helped (Y/n) into the car and began to drive her home. She couldn’t help but notice her mother’s look on her face, “You okay ma?”

(Y/n) simply shook her head, “Both of my best friend’s are gone Mary..” 

Mary’s face was full of sorrow, she really did feel sorry for her mother. “Mom? Can I ask you something?” “Hm..?”

“Even after I was born, after all these years.. why did you never date? Never move on?” Mary asked.

(Y/n) looked at her before looking out the window, “No one could ever replace your father. He was the best and..” she paused, “Truly the love of my life.”

“As you are mine, sweetheart.” Dean smirked. 

--------------------------------------------

Mary sat there sadly, she knew the day would come but she never wanted it to.

                                                 (Y/n) (L/n)

                                Loving mother. Loving daughter.

Tears rolled down Mary’s cheek, “I love you mommy.” she spoke. 

She never thought that someone could truly die from a broken heart.

That’s what got to (Y/n), a broken heart. Mary knew her mother lived a eventful life, so it was no surprised when she processed what she had died from. Although she was sad now, she knew her mother was happy. She knew she was up in heaven with the Winchester brothers.

--------------------------------------------

(Y/n) walked around confusingly, she didn’t know where she was at but she did know she was young again. She stared at her hands and touched her (h/c) hair once again, no longer gray.

“(Y/n)?” a voice called out.

She turned out, “B-Bobby?” she asked.

The man chuckled, “Well it’s about damn time you got here.”

She tilted her head a bit, “Here?”

He smiled, “Heaven silly.” Bobby chuckled once again at (Y/n)’s reaction, “Yeah, ‘long time ago for you Jack changed the place up. We’re all together here.”

(Y/n)’s mouth opened a bit, “We’re?” Bobby nodded and began pointing, “Rufus lives there, The boys parents there.. speaking of the boys Dean sure damn hell has been waitin for you.”

Her eyes got teary, “Dean?”

“That’s my name doll, don’t wear it out.” 

“DEAN!” (Y/n) shouted and ran towards the male, jumping on him for a hug which thankfully he caught her.

“Sammy and I been waiting for you baby. Matter of fact we were just talking about you.” he admitted.

(Y/n) wasn’t even listening to him, just kissing him all over his face.

“Oh Dean! I’ve missed you!” 

“And I’ve missed you too (Y/n)” 

Dean planted a sweet kiss on her lips and pulled away, “Come on! Sammy and I are having burgers and beer tonight!”

She just smiled, “I love you, Dean Winchester,”

He smirked, “I love you most, (Y/n) (L/n).”

You and me, always forever.

We could stay alone together.

Author’s Note: OH MY GOODNESS I WROTE THIS IN A DAY. I was in fact, on a roll. I’m not even gonna lie I teared up writing the end cause Dean deserved so much :( Anyways, I hope y’all enjoyed the story! My hands hurt not aha! 

#supernatural #deanwinchester #dean winchester x you #deanwinchesterxreader #samwinchester #spn #fanfiction #writer #writer on tumblr #supernaturalfanfic #songfic #always forever #angst #oneshot

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Top Anon

Pogue Parry x Reader

Word Count: 2,288

Summary: You have a loyal follower who comments on every post under your food blog. Just who is your favorite follower and why is the new grocery boy kinda cute too?

It was a new year and the start of a new you. Well, that is, a you who was trying new things.

In the past, you always made resolutions, but that spirit ran out before the month of January was even done. But after the particularly rough time of the past year, you swore that this time would be different, that you would make a serious effort to do something new.

It was that determination that led your current situation—your kitchen countertops were covered with ingredients and cooking utensils, your cell phone resting on a near by tripod for filming purposes.

The goal for this year was to try running a blog, and since you were a bit of a foodie, it made a lot of sense to center the blog around cooking and food. The idea came to you quickly; the hard part was deciding on a name, which took a while.

Eventually, you settled on The Foodiest. Naming was not one of your strong suits, but it was enough to get the point clearly across to potential viewers.

Choosing the layout design was on the same level of easy as deciding and didn’t take more than a day or two to implement on your site. Thank goodness for the existence of pre-made layout templates that saved you the effort of having to code everything yourself.  

With of the work on that end finished, the day had finally come for you to actually cook something to post about. Seeing as how January was a cold, winter month, you chose to make mashed sweet potatoes. Not only was it one of your favorite winter side dishes, it wasn’t hard to make either, giving you the confidence that even if your writing was lackluster, at least the food would look good.

Most of the blogs you were familiar with used a combination of text and photos for readers to follow along with, but you were going to try video in place of images. You sometimes struggled to copy based on what was shown in the photo, especially when you first started cooking, so you hoped video would make it easier on budding chefs who came across your content.

Luckily, the video would be sped up and lapsed for the final post to spare people from having to watch the monotonous parts in full length.

Hands on your hips, you surveyed everything one last time to make sure it was all ready. With a satisfied nod you reached forward to tap the large, red record button on the phone.  

You debated whether or not to talk while filming but decided against it. You were nervous enough posting to the blog without having the added stress of talking.

Everything happened in its regular order: you started by peeling and chopping the potatoes, a basic step, but you took your time doing it, paranoid as ever that you would cut yourself with the knife. Next you boiled the bright orange chunks in a pot of water; then put them in a mixing bowl once they were cooked. And finally used an electric mixer to blend it all nice and smooth, adding in milk, brown sugar, and cinnamon.  

Swiping your pointer finger through the finished product, you hummed with delight at the delicious, sweet taste. You pulled out a presentable bowl from the cupboard and spooned some orange fluff into it for the final reveal. Reaching blindly towards the far end of the counter you grabbed a bag of pecans to top off the mashed sweet potatoes. You scrutinized it and added more pecans for good measure.

Doing something in front of a camera was very different than doing the same thing on a normal day. Tension leeched out of your shoulders and you exhaled loudly with your head leaned back. A sense of pride warmed your chest, especially as you returned your gaze to the picturesque bowl. It looked great and tasted even better.

There was a large portion of leftovers because the recipes you used were collected from family and meant to feed small armies of people. You did your best to eat what you could and made plans sharing the rest with friends and coworkers later.

A few days after you published the post, you decided to check the stats on your account dashboard to see what the public response to it was, if there was any at all. Google analytics was useful for counting the total number of views it received while the blog site itself tracked the likes and… a comment?

Initial shock gave way to a bolt of excitement that had your fingers tingling with energy. You clicked to read it, wondering what it may say. Fingers crossed it was something good, whether it came in the form of a compliment or some constructive criticism.

Anonymous: wow good job

The chair creaked as you sat back slowly. You didn’t know how to read that, there wasn’t a whole lot to go on. Wow good job, said sarcastically? Wow good job, said excitedly? It didn’t help that the commenter didn’t believe in using punctuation either. And since it was submitted anonymously, there was no easy way to track down who sent it.

But maybe you were being too paranoid about it. You decided to take it as a compliment and cracked your fingers before firing off a response.

Foodiest: Thanks anon! I had a lot of fun with this dish. Hope you tune in for the next one :)

Anonymous never followed up with that particular exchange but they commented on every post without fail for the next two months.

Anonymous: nevr had white chili before it was good

Anonymous: the stuffed pepper were good

Anonymous: good call with the shrimp

Of course, all of the messages were sent as anonymous, so there was no 100% guarantee that it was the same person, but your gut feeling told you that it was. Who else had no respect for grammar rules and religiously used ‘good’ as their only descriptor?

You grew to expect, and enjoy, the weekly comment left by anon and made sure to leave a nice response in return. It was hard not to feel a connection to someone who took the time to try your recipes and leave a nice message. If only you could figure out who it was or at least have a name for them besides anonymous.

Foodiest: I’m glad you liked the recipe! My gramma swore by mayo when making grilled cheese. Thanks for always liking my stuff, if you ever want to talk more feel free to message me!

There. Maybe that would make them feel comfortable to give you their name you thought as you powered down your laptop for the night.

You spent the next couple of days leading up to the new post planning on what recipe to cook. Yep. Definitely not hoping for more information about anon.

For this newest post you decided to make some Indian curry, one of your favorites. Even long after you finished cooking, taping, and cleaning, the potent scent of spices was still heavy in the air, like aromatic nirvana that had your mouth watering even with a full stomach.

You tried your best not to refresh the post every few minutes to see if anon commented but it was tough. It turned out that you didn’t have to wait long as they left a comment within twenty minutes.

Anonymous: havent cooked this yet but looks good. Never really had indian before so have to go buy the stufff first – po

Anon finally gave up a name! You let out a happy noise and read it again. Po… short and to the point, just like all of the previous responses had led you to think about them. There was no time to waste, you hurried to write back, initial typos all over the place as the words out-paced your fingers.

Foodiest: Hi Po! It’s nice to have a name to put with your words. I would recommend going to an Asian Market for the spices, they’re more likely to carry them. Let me know how it goes for you :)

Since that conversation, Po and you chatted frequently about the weekly recipe choice, whether or not it looked good and if Po had plans to make it themselves, which they often did. Po seemed to like all types of food; vegetarian, meats, drinks, desserts, even ethnic dishes from places as far off as Bolivia and Morocco.

And the longer you two talked, the more frequent the messaging became. Whereas in the beginning Po would only submit a compliment that you would follow up with a ‘thank you’, it had turned into lengthy back and forths that took up a majority of the comment section for each post. More followers joined as the months went by and you hoped that they weren’t intimidated by your blatant favoritism but it was just so easy to talk with Po. If you were being honest with yourself though, it wasn’t only that it was easy… you genuinely liked talking to them.

Every time you made a new post it was difficult to not refresh the page every few minutes to see if they had left a message. And when they did, it was like a shot of electricity straight into the system where your heart would jolt and your face would flood with heat. You were hesitant to say it was a crush given that you didn’t know what they actually looked like and the computer screen barrier made it so you were content to define it as friendship.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you grabbed your wallet and keys while putting on shoes so you could make a quick run to the store. You had big plans to make some buffalo chicken wings for the blog this week and you needed to stop by the store to pick up some ingredients that you didn’t have, namely Frank’s Original Red for the buffalo sauce and blue cheese for the dip. Being an adult and responsible for your own grocery shopping was a chore at times. 

Luckily, Winter had thawed out into Spring so there was no need for you to warm up or car or scrape your windows. You just hopped in and drove the four blocks it took to get to the store. The plan was to cross the stuff for the wings off of your list first and then browse around for some good snacks to tide you over for the next week or so. Things were going according to plan until you saw him.

A tall boy wearing an employee apron stood in front of the cracker section, his jaw line and soft looking long hair catching your eye. Then he reached up to the tallest shelf to restock some boxes his arms flexing slightly to show off his heavy biceps and his shirt rode up, exposing deep cut ridges in his lower abdomen. To put it simply, you were starstruck.

He finished with the boxes he had in-hand and went to grab more from the cart at his side when you noticed your blatant ogling. Rather than confront you about it he merely smiled and moved out of the way so that you could get to the brand that you wanted. Choking from embarrassment, you kept your head down and threw a box of Goldfish into your shopping cart, speeding to get out of the aisle and his presence.

The store was a small local business and you frequented enough to know most of the workers there but you didn’t recognize this one, meaning that he must be new. What a way to make a first impression on him. Clearly your constitution was no match for his rugged, good looks. Then he was polite enough not to comment on you objectifying him which somehow made you feel even worse about it.

You decided to end the shopping trip almost immediately knowing that you were too spooked to continue shopping lest you run into him again.

You rolled the shopping cart into an open check-out lane and started putting your things on the conveyor for the cashier to scan. It just so happened that you knew the cashier—she was a middle-aged lady who’d been at the store for nearly two years. “Hi, Y/N. Find everything you needed?”

“Hey, Eva. Yes, I did.” You tried to steady yourself. Eva had a notoriously sharp eye and wouldn’t hesitate to question you if you looked off.

She left you alone today, engaging in normal chit chat, until she had trouble scanning the bottle of Frank’s hot sauce. Eva frowned when it didn’t want to scan and tried again but the bottle slipped from her hands and the neck of it shattered. Eva cursed and huffed, hurrying to throw the bottle into the trash before more leaked onto the register.

“I am so sorry, hun! I’ll get you another.”

“It was an accident,” you assured. “I can get it myself—"

“Not a problem,” she assured you with a wink. She pulled a walkie from her hip and spoke into it. “Hey, bring me a bottle of Frank’s Original Red Hot Sauce. Quick.”

You barely had time to don your awkward smile as she talked about how her neighbor’s dog kept pooping in her yard when the guy from the cracker aisle walked up behind Eva and handed a bottle of hot sauce to her. She took it and patted his back to get him to move forward.

“Thanks, hun. Y/N this is the new grocery boy—”

“Pogue,” he interrupted. “My name is Pogue.”

_______________

Another fic where they know each other but don’t know that they do. This time featuring Pogue and his fandom accepted interest in food. I picture him to have bad messaging skills — his fingers struggle with those tiny phone buttons. 

#the covenant #pogue parry #pogue parry x reader #imagines

[wychive]

𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨

summary // you found your pile of ‘letters’ to hyunjin that contain thoughts that have never been said and decided to write to him one last time.

pairing(s) // hyunjin x gn!reader, hyunjin x oc, slight minho x reader

genre(s) // angst, letter fic 

warning(s) // mentions of food, themes of being forgotten, vulgar wording, humiliation, overthinking

word count // 2.0k

author's note // happy birthday @noya-sannnn​ !! im sorry this was so late hhh you know how i am irl,, but i hope you enjoy this! i love you so much, jane <3 i apologize for the many grammar mistakes gn. i recommend listening to iu’s ending scene while reading this! btw y/n/n means your nickname.

[10/01/14, 3:55am]

dear jinnie,

hi there! it's y/n <3 i hope you're doing okay - i mean of course you are pfft anyways, just writing this short letter (more like paragraph)  sort of as a venting mechanism? for things i cant tell you about lol  im not so sure how you would call it, since you're so much better at words than i am. basically were like:

hyunjin: ow a brain freeze!

me: haha brain go brrrr

anyways haha yea <3 it's 4am so like,, ill see you at school!

signed,

your loser,

y/n/n

[15/02/14, 12:34am]

yo heartthrob!

im back with this kinda stuff haha it's been a whole? week? since ive written one of these so like yes..hi! i just wanted to say thanks, for today. you really know how to cheer me up huh? you really outdid yourself by setting up that little picnic for us. congrats on making the strawberry cake so perfectly <3 this day will always stay as a core memory in the back of my brain. you're too caring sometimes,,, istg you'll pay for this [maybe hugs?] >:) 

signed,

your partner in crime,

y/n/n

[30/02/15, 01:29am]

jinnie-senpai~~

LMAO you hate me calling you that, doesn't change a thing though. hehe,, nways i hope you enjoyed your birthday present :) i got you that really cool skateboard that you wanted. i worked my ass off for that in my mother's garden so like,, you gotta thank me for that a thousand times :D nah jk, its a sincere gift, from me to you. i rarely do this for ANYONE so consider yourself lucky to have a best friend like me -3- also, seungmin is like….kinda the cutest person ever. introduce me to him pls, thank!

signed,

<your bestest friend3,

y/n

(p.s. you're kinda cute too,,,, ig,,, still stinkee tho)

[13/04/15, 9:04pm]

hey 'baby' (HAHAHA ihy for this)

i hope your day was okay! i didn't see much of you today (which was sort of a bummer but wtv) so like…. uh yea. you told me you were doing okay over text, which kinda surprised me because like?? we always video call lol this is kinda the first time,, but its okay, i trust you! (i really hope youre doing alright tho, i'll beat anyone up if they make you sad >:( ) you also called me 'sweetheart' today which was like…. omg wtf haha????????? that was so weird to me for some reason… a good kind of weird :D we haven't done those kinds of nicknames in a while so…. happy to know that they're back in session <3 i talked to the new girl today, she's really cool! like she knows the bean song on tiktok so like its a total win heh, ill introduce you to her tomorrow! you'll love her a lot

signed,

your 'lover',

y/n/n

[08/06/16, 10:23pm]

hey howl (hehe go back to that movie night we had)

this spring break sucks so much,, esp because youre not here (you still couldve brought me along :'[ ) but wtv i hope youre enjoying yourself. ive been hanging out with yeonnie lately and i found out she likes conan grey too like pls i love her sm. can we adopt her?? please???? she told me you guys have been video calling too and that makes me so happy!! you two are getting along so well aaa my precious babies </3 

what if you developed a crush on her? haha…..jk unless?? (no jk dont shes all mine, stay away >:) ) anyways, i hope the three of us hang out soon. maybe go to that ice cream parlour where they serve the best cookies and cream?  

signed,

your daisy,

y/n/n

[19/07/15, 01:23am]

peepee poopoo hello

heyheyhey!! (heh, haikyuu thingz) i hope youre doing okay! i mean sure you are, with everything going so well. also i feel like you're not telling me something. maybe it's just me? is it? i hope it is because you tell me everything,, we've been talking less these days but its okay! i know how busy you are, especially with your dad always bugging you,,

also, i think yeonbin likes you :0,, she keeps talking about you whenever we hang out. don't get me wrong, its not bad that she likes you but...something doesn't feel right. i feel like i'm being the third wheeler here and like ugh idk. haha laughs yea i think its just me.. im sorry, i didnt mean to do you like this,, anyways, ill see you soon + her too ofc- yall are inseparable lmao

signed,

your moonlight,

y/n/n

[23/07/15, 01:56am]

greetings, kind sir

lol more like mean sir but like aight KSKSK,, anyways,, how have you been? we haven't really talked in a while,, our convos are always so short with it being one-sided :/ i wish you were online more. yeonnie is ignoring me,, do you know why? i think you do,,, but when i asked you just said you didnt know. did i do something wrong? pls tell me.. 

she blocked my contact the other day and she won't even smile at me when i pass her in the hallways. its,, sad and stressful especially because she was the only one that would genuinely talk to me. i hate to say this,, but i miss you. us, hanging out like the best trio we are, yknow? but i dont think you miss me the same way. sorry, im getting out of hand. i know im just overreacting. im just gonna sleep ig,, good night! sweet dreams,,

signed,

your pink lemonade,

y/n/n

[25/07/15, 03:25am]

hi there

i heard you and her got together?? congrats, jinnie! im so proud of you,, especially because you never had even considered getting a girlfriend a few months earlier lmaO you really woo the ladies huh? anyways,, i hope you've been well since we last talked,, how many days has it been?? i would say nearly a week or so but honestly it feels like a hundred years,, considering you and i used to talk every day. but you have her now to keep you company.

keep this a secret but can you possibly tell me why it hurts when i see her? or when i mention her or even think of her?? is it because she's connected to you? but.. you're my best friend, so why? is it because i miss you? is it because im alone now? is it because you left me with a simple 'i have to go now,, bye y/n/n.'? im not sure either. im being silly, i apologize. ill figure it out sooner or later. sweet dreams, jinnie

signed,

your asswipe,

y/n

[25/07/15, 04:30am]

jinnie

it's because i love you. 

signed,

your butterfly,

y/n

[??/08/??, 05:??am]

you

i miss your lame jokes. i miss your smile. i miss your laughs. i miss your funny faces. i miss the way your eyes twinkle. i miss th way you would make me happy just by doing the bare minimum. i miss the disaster you made when cooking breakfast. i miss the night when you snuck me out just to go to that pretty lantern event. i miss when you would call out my name everytime we met. i miss when we would share earbuds in train rides. dont you get it, hyunjin? i miss you.

[??/??/15, ??:??am]

asshole.

please tell me that isn't true, please. you're too kind to do these kinds of things, right? + i was your best friend,, then, why, why did you hurt me like this. i didnt do anything wrong.. you couldve just told me you didnt like me,,, why did she have to tell me? out of all people. 

youre so pathetic for this,, i thought you were brave, bold - but youre just a fucking coward. i loved you, i really did. and i realised too late… im sorry. she,, i shouldn't have talked to her in the first place, right? i bet you knew she humiliated me, in front of everyone. of course you did, you were the only one that knew. you told her. fuck, i hate you so much (yet why do i long for you on a night like this?). you know how much that'll affect me and yet, there you are, laughing about it with her.

signed,

fuck off,

you know who i am.

[31/08/15, 03:41am]

ah, jinnie

please tell me this is just a nightmare. please, please. stop just reading my texts, please answer them. jinnie. i miss you so much. i dont care bout her, please just let me be in your arms. i dont care if you love me back, please just talk to me at least. tell me what i did wrong,, jinnie,, please,,, clear these tear stains on my cheek with kisses.

signed,

your fuck-up,

y/n

[15/09/15, 04:59am]

jinnie

why do i keep crying because of you? its been a few weeks since everything has happened. please, nothing has changed. i still love you the same even with all the hatred i have pent up in this stupid brain of mine. i wish i could just walk back in time, to where it all began.

when i first met you in third grade and you pushed me while playing soccer or maybe when we took those ridiculous prom pictures, remember those? i hope you still have them,, because i do too. i hope the pictures of us on your wall still hang there,, it'll remind you of the happy times. hm,, maybe you don't need them. 

you already have millions of pictures with you and her,, i bet you printed some and replaced those with ours right? sly dog. 

signed,

friend,

y/n/n

[04/02/16, 12:57am]

hey

i went to the park today and saw both of you being happy. it's nice to see your smile again. im sorry i didnt go up to you,, i just thought it would be awkward. when i heard that adorable laugh of yours, it made me realise that i lost something special. but it's okay isnt it? as your happiness matters more than mine. 

signed,

y/n

[06/01/20, 08:00pm]

dear hyunjin,

im doing fine here. how about you? gosh,, how long has it been? years? since we last talked to each other. i havent heard from you since. i would just like to say i still think of you sometimes, when watering the plants or dancing while making pancakes. sometimes i think you're here with me too, just being the pals we were. 

sometimes i'd see you out, just reading a book in the park or buying pasta sauce at the grocery store. it's nice to see you having a stable life. im not sure if you're still with her or not, but its good to know that you still have that large friend group. also! you're never gonna guess who im dating--

it's minho! do you remember him? the one that i used to hate,, uh yeah. he asked me out the other day- you may wonder how tf,,, i too do not know how tf but he gives the best hugs ever. he gave me the love i wanted from you. he stitched my heart back together after it broke,, i love him so much, jinnie..

it's snowing,, do you remember when we would skate on the frozen lake in front of your house? are your parents well? i wonder if your mother still has those earrings i bought for her birthday. i never told you this but your laugh and hers sound so similar. 

i would just like to say thank you, for everything. you were a big part of my life, up until now. when we see each other after this, we would just be strangers. maybe flash a little smile or give a little wave whenever we greet each other but nothing more. some memories of us would flow in every now and then but it'll just be a short teaser. well, i'll be going now. smile for me, okay?

signed,

the one that loved you the most,

y/n.

taglist // @/noya-sannnn, @crvgio​ , @neo-shitty​

reply to be in my gen taglist!

#kpop #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop boy #stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids au #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin fluff #ending scene #iu #alachi mind puke

[btschooseafic]

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva struggles to keep up with all of her new responsibilities as a manager.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. [Masterlist]

Track 9: New Responsibilities

Responsibilities- Thane, Anderson .Paak, BJ the Chicago Kid

“I ain't stressin' bout the future, take it day to day

It's a marathon baby I'm just learnin' the pace”

Aviva stared around at the graffiti on the walls of the private space she had rented for their first dance practice. It wasn’t much, but…

“Siljangnim?” Hoseok called out.

“Hobi!” She called back. “Stop calling me that!”

“But, you are our manager,” he said simply.

She blinked.

“Ah. Right.” She grimaced. He laughed.

“Did you forget?”

“No, I just… you could at least use ‘maenijeo’...” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or should I call you Jung Hoseok-ssi all the time?”

He rolled his eyes at her formal address.

“Now you’re just making it weird... Have you heard anything from Jungkookie or Jiminie? I texted them, but they haven’t responded.”

She chewed her lip. “They’re not responding to me. Jungkook-ah always showed up to practice on time when I was with him in LA, but I haven’t worked with Jimin-ah that closely yet.” She looked at Taehyung. “What’s his work ethic like?”

Taehyung hummed. “Jiminie works very hard… but he also has trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“That’s understandable,” Yoongi thought.

Jin clicked his tongue. “Kids these days.”

Everyone laughed, although Aviva’s laugh was a little restrained.

“We’re almost out of time for the practice space,” she said worriedly. “Should I book another slot…?”

“Do we have the budget for that?” Yoongi asked bluntly. Aviva sighed.

“I guess we should start the practice without them.” She turned to Namjoon. “Namjoon-ah, you said you had some music you wanted to share with everyone?”

“Yeah.” He popped a CD into the player on the floor.

Taehyung bobbed along to the music. Jin made an uncertain face. Yoongi started arguing about the merits of local artists over international ones.

“Look, we can listen to both,” Aviva said, trying to calm them down.

“Yes, but the order we listen to them is important,” Yoongi insisted. Aviva massaged her furrowed brow.

“Listen, Yoongi-oppa—”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jungkook said, looking exhausted as he and Jimin walked into the room. They looked more than exhausted, they looked about ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Aviva asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“We weren’t trying to be late…” Jimin said.

“That’s all okay!” Taehyung said cheerfully. “Come in, my friends!”

“You could’ve let us know that you were going to be late,” Hoseok commented.

“We were too freaked out to think about that,” Jungkook said.

“Freaked out about what?” Aviva pressed.

“You should have called to be considerate,” Jin agreed with Hoseok. “There were a lot of people waiting on the two of you.”

“Hey, it’s only one tardy! Let’s just let this one slide!” Taehyung suggested, smiling brightly. Aviva nodded thoughtfully.

“Only one tardy?” Yoongi said, giving them a cold look. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to play around. Whether you meant to be late or not, you have obligations to the group.”

“I agree with Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms too. “You don’t succeed in this industry with just hard work alone.” He sighed. “I’m disappointed. I thought you both were more dedicated to this group. Do you really want to be here?”

“Hyung… how can you…” Jimin was now unmistakably teary eyed. “How can you doubt something like that?” Jungkook patted him on the back, leading him to sit down. Jimin took deep breaths. Aviva frowned, noting the bloody stain on the knee of Jimin’s pants.

“Jimin-ah…” She kneeled down in front of him. “Tell me what happened—how did you hurt your knee?” A few of the older boys made noises of surprise behind her.

“I waited so long for our first practice,” Jimin said. “I was so excited I ran here. But I was dumb and fell down a flight of stairs…”

“I had to convince Jimin-hyung to go to the hospital, that’s why I didn’t think to call,” Jungkook explained.

“Hey, I’ve been excited too,” Aviva told him. “It’s not your fault you fell over—Namjoon-ah does stuff like that all the time.”

“Yah!” Namjoon cleared his throat, his face pink. Jimin laughed a bit, his tears interrupted.

“But I’m glad Jungkookie convinced you to go to the hospital,” Aviva continued speaking to Jimin, ignoring Namjoon. “What did they say?”

“They said it’s fine. Just disinfected it, and gave me a Band-Aid, but it’s coming off already…” Jimin frowned at his knee.

“Oh, I’ve got Band-Aids!” Aviva said, popping up and running over to her bag.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re just as clumsy as I am, Avi-yah.”

“I’m not,” she disagreed, handing Jimin the Band-Aid. “Does it hurt, Jimin-ah? Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “The Band-Aid’s enough. Thanks for worrying about me, manager-nim.” He took her hands in his. “But you keep up your health too, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”

Namjoon frowned slightly as he watched them.

A couple of days passed, and Aviva was still worried about the group dynamic. They kept arguing about small things, like who should change the water cooler. Such arguments were bound to happen, Aviva figured, but the boys seemed to be disproportionately angry in relation to the issue.

Jin and Jimin were refusing to speak to each other, sending Aviva back and forth with messages.

Taehyung interrupted, pointing out that their time slot was over.

Aviva glanced at her phone. “I’m sorry, I’m running late! I need to go, please get home safely, all of you.” She ran out of the room.

That night, the boys accidentally ran into each other in the practice room. The older boys were impressed when they realized the younger boys had been staying late to practice, sleeping over to be able to make the best use of the time.

“Well, that, and we couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep,” Taehyung finished.

Jimin nodded, grimacing.

“You hyungs are still sleeping in the supply closet at the offices?” He wondered.

The rap line trio nodded grimly.

“Usually Avi-yah would’ve realized by now,” Hoseok thought. “Especially when her new office isn’t too far away from the supply closet. Maybe she really is overworked…”

“Is that why Namjoon-hyung lied to her about having found a place to stay?” Taehyung wondered, blinking at him. Namjoon flushed slightly.

“It wasn’t, a lie, exactly.” He ran his hand over his face. “The renovation announcement was so last minute, and she’s got so much on her plate already, I didn’t want her to have to worry about this, so I said I’d take care of it, but I haven’t been able to find a place big enough for all of us, and when she asked, I couldn’t exactly tell her that…” He felt guilt heavy on his chest when he remember how relieved she’d looked when he told her it was all taken care of.

“Look, what’s this?” Taehyung picked something up off the ground.

“It’s Avi-yah’s notebook.” Namjoon took it from him, smiling as he recognized it as one of the many he’d bought for her over the years. He started flipping through it.

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, hyung?” Jimin commented.

Namjoon’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“She’s always writing in there,” Yoongi said, leaning over to get a look. “What does she write?”

“Um, everything.” Namjoon skimmed over cartoon doodles in the margins and hand drawn marketing graphs. “Our schedules, research on hip hop groups…” He smiled, pointing. “Look, she looked up both the international artists I suggested, and the underground local artists you suggested.”

Yoongi smiled slightly, shaking his head. “She does work hard, that one.”

“Right?” Jin agreed. “She’s only been here for a few years, but she’s already basically fluent in Korean.”

“Still, I bet she misses home sometimes,” Hoseok thought. “Did she seem happier when she was there, Jungkookie?”

“What?” Jungkook flushed. “Um, well, she seemed pretty happy, but she didn’t actually grow up in LA, so, I don’t think that’s… I think she was just happy to be able to speak English so much again, and to see Jenny-ssi.”

Hoseok grinned. “If you and Avi-yah’s little sister get married, maybe she’ll come live here too, and Avi-yah will be happier, and your older sister!”

Jungkook tilted his head. “I wouldn’t mind…” He waved his hand. “Not that I’m saying I’d want to marry Jenny-ssi—we’re not even really dating at this point, more like pen pals?” They all laughed. He huffed. “Anyway, we’ve got off track, we were talking about Aviva-noona.”

“I wouldn’t want her to be my older sister,” Taehyung said quietly.

“I wonder if this is really what she wanted—to manage a group of trainees like us?” Jimin said more loudly as Namjoon gave Taehyung a funny look.

Namjoon flipped through the pages, frowning at the color-coded blocks.

“Hey, Jimin-ah, did you know about this? Is that why you told her not to overwork herself?” He held up the schedule.

“Oh yeah.” Jimin grimaced. “I saw something like that the other day, when I was borrowing a piece of paper.”

“Speak to groups about getting members as featured artists and backup dancers, listen to lectures, hire instructors… and this is all after supervising our practice. How is she doing all of this in one day?” Namjoon shook his head. “When does she have time for sleep?”

“She needs to take better care of herself,” Yoongi thought aloud. Namjoon snorted. Yoongi frowned at him. “What?”

“Are you really the one to be saying that?”

Aviva rushed into the practice room, having gotten the keys from the janitor, after explaining she forgot an important notebook inside.

She felt around the wall for the light switch, but couldn’t find it. She let out a huff of frustration and used her cellphone light instead. She squinted her eyes at an oddly placed plant. Then she heard movement and squeaked, nearly falling over.

“Yah, careful!” A familiar voice called out. Aviva froze up as she felt the warmth of someone’s arms around her, holding her up. “The floor is hard.”

She shivered at his breath in her ear. “…Yoongi?”

“Wow, nice catch!” Another voice said.

“Taehyung-ah?” Aviva recognized his voice as well. She blinked as the lights flickered on. Jungkook and Jimin popped out from behind the suspicious plant Aviva had noted earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook wondered.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked concernedly. “Manager-nim, are you hurt?”

“I’m, I’m okay,” she said a little shakily. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin came over. Namjoon looked at Yoongi and Aviva and frowned. Hoseok looked back and forth between them and then smirked. “Thanks, Yoongi-oppa… you can let go of me now.”

“Yeah…” He let go slowly, frowning at Taehyung. “Why’d you scare her like that?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” Hoseok agreed. Taehyung pouted, stepping closer to her.

“I was actually trying not to scare you—I thought it would be scary if I was too loud, so I was trying to be sneaky—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” she told him. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah, I just get a little jumpy sometimes.”

“Oh, so you don’t like horror movies?” Taehyung wondered, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry, not really.”

“You don’t have to apologize… I was just hoping we could watch one together.” He sighed, but then quickly recovered his usual charming smile. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Action,” Hoseok said.

“Mystery,” Yoongi said.

“Fantasy,” Namjoon said. They looked at her.

“I like all of those,” she said.

Taehyung nodded. “We’ll watch one of those instead, okay?”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that sounds good.” She frowned. “Wait a minute, what are all of you doing here at this time of night anyway?” They looked around at each other nervously. “Huh…” She rested her hand on her hip. “It’s nice that you guys appear to be getting along again, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Um… I left something here,” Hoseok said slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Aviva said, doubtful. “What did you forget?” Hoseok rubbed his neck. Aviva frowned at the pain patch on his neck, spotting another one on his arm. “Seriously, guys, what’s up?” She looked around the room, spotting a few sleeping bags in the corner. Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping here?”

“…I mean, it’s the first night for here for some of us,” Hoseok said, cheerfully raising his hand. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Though, we were… kinda… sleeping in the storage room before that…”

“…Fuck,” Aviva said.

“Yah!” Jin covered Jungkook’s ears. Jungkook shook him off, grumbling.

Taehyung grinned. “Manager-noona, I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Yeah, I taught her,” Namjoon said, smiling proudly.

“This is all my fault,” Aviva said, rubbing her temples. “I’m so sorry, Joonie, I shouldn’t have left this all on you. I knew finding a big enough place nearby would be difficult, so I should’ve checked in.”

“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi wondered.

“I’ve been distracted,” she admitted. “But that’s no excuse.” She bowed. “I apologize, it was my responsibility to find you a place to live, and I didn’t.”

“Aw, manager-nim, no need to be so formal,” Jin said, patting her on the back.

She straightened up.

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait!” Namjoon called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to find you somewhere to stay—and someone to stay tonight right away!”

“But you’re busy already,” he protested.

“Gone already.” Yoongi grimaced. “She’s quick.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it to her,” Jungkook said, sighing.

Jimin smiled. “I think we’re in good hands.”

“Right?” Taehyung held his hands over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“I found a temporary spot,” she said, later that night. “The commute isn’t bad, and you’ll have access to a backyard, and the living room and kitchen are a little bigger than the last place, but it’s still a one bedroom so you’ll still have to share.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind!” Taehyung said happily, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve all slept in the same room before. I’m just happy not to have to sleep on the hard floor!”

Aviva shook her head.

“About that, Tae… it isn’t fully furnished either. I got them to throw in two and a half couches—“

“Half a couch?” Jungkook wondered. Hoseok elbowed Jimin.

“That’s for you, little Jiminie.”

Jimin scowled at him.

“So some of you can sleep on those,” Aviva continued, ignoring them. “But I couldn’t find seven beds on such short notice.” Taehyung’s face fell. “I’ve got two sets of bunk beds.”

“Even just that is impressive in a couple of hours,” Namjoon thought.

Taehyung nodded slowly. “…A couch is still better than the floor,” he decided.

“Yeah, at least bring a sleeping bag next time, dummy,” Yoongi muttered.

“Ah, Yoongi-yah cares so much,” Jin said, slapping him on the back. Yoongi frowned at him. Aviva smiled slightly.

“Anyway, I’ll text you guys the address, so feel free to meet me there.”

“Where are you going, noona?” Jungkook wondered. “Don’t you have a lot of other things to do tonight?”

“I finished the meeting, so I’ll postpone the other things,” she said. “The temporary unit I found doesn’t have any food, so I thought I’d grab some groceries for you.”

“We can do it,” Jin said. “Don’t worry, just continue on with your normal schedule.”

She bit her lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Jin said. “I can make a dish out of anything, I’m not just a pretty face you know.” She laughed. He grinned at her.

“And I like grocery shopping,” Taehyung commented. “It’s like a treasure hunt!”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

“Before you go.” Namjoon held her notebook out to her. “Don’t forget this again.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Joonie.” She waved and hurried off again.

“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok imitated in a high-pitched voice. “Hmmm… tell me again why you haven’t asked her out?”

Namjoon flushed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, you mean, besides the fact we could both lose our jobs?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah, besides that. People do break the rules and get away with it, you know. If you decide the risk is worth it…”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it? I mean, we’ve both been working so hard for this debut, should I really throw it all down the drain just because Aviva-yah is so…?” He waved his hands inarticulately.

“Cute?” Taehyung suggested.

Namjoon frowned at him. “That she is!” Hoseok agreed cheerfully. “But Joonie’s acting pretty adorable right now also.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon muttered. “Anyway, even if I’d be willing to risk it, there are other people involved, Hoseok-ah and Yoongi-hyung especially, I wouldn’t want to ruin all your hard work.” Hoseok nodded, thumping him on the back.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go to this new place and get some sleep.”

#bts #fanfiction #bts x oc #ot7 x oc #bts predebut #idolverse #manager!oc #bts world #ot7 #my fics #hey you what's your dream

[kneamet]

Hank Williams is looking for new inspiration. Eventually he finds Reader.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere

Word Count: 1859

Character: Hank Williams/reader

Summary: Hank has been looking for a muse for a long time, and now, he has found you

POV Your

Being around Hank, your husband, was scary and totally unpleasant. He was like a poison, penetrating your bright thoughts and perverting them in a bad way. He was terrible, or, to put it mildly, simply unpleasant.

And it would be fine if this dislike extended only to his appearance, but no, he was absolutely disgusting inwardly. Sometimes, although this feeling was very common now, you just wanted to hit him, call him bad words, and finally break out into the street, out of his suffocating captivity

He was quite handsome: a lanky figure and very frail, with a large back that he had inherited from childhood; dark-colored, with a slight green tinge, like a swamp sinking into the depths, eyes; thin, slightly greasy in some places, brown hair. He was very attractive, and you weren't surprised when you realized that. He wasn't your type, though.

Your husband's character, as much as you hate to call him, was too contradictory to speak of. On the one hand, you wanted to forgive him for what he did to you, but it was only your heart that said it, but your mind always told you, which, by the way, you always focused on, that it was dangerous to be near him. What if he does something to you, like he did at the beginning of your captivity? It was exactly the kind of event you didn't want to remember.

And even now, lying on the bed, you felt an unthinkable desire to leave here, to disappear, to cease to exist, but knowing that your punishment could last for an even longer period, you did not hope to do it, fearing it. Yet the thought of escape has always warmed and nurtured your soul.

Lately, since your husband recovered and finally began to travel around America again, very often, for your sake, canceling tours and rescheduling them for another day, you have begun to think about how you would like to walk through the soft and gentle grass, strewn with silver dew, and feel it, feel it tickle your shins; about how a quiet and calm wind, coming from far away, blows your hair so that it develops; about how you can finally put on new and clean clothes, not defiled by your husband, about how to see your boyfriend again.

God, you missed him so much. For your beloved person, who would do everything you say, but at the same time would give a rebuff. Such a gentle and pleasant guy that you always wanted to find and who eventually made you an offer that you didn't refuse. However, who would have known that the next day you would be here, in the house of Hank, your husband, no matter how sad it sounds.

You didn't know how he first became interested in you. You never went to his concerts, and yes, you listened to his radio a couple of times in the early morning, but nothing more personal or secret about him. Even if you admit it to yourself, you didn't know he was famous. You still thought he was playing on the radio.

Blinking rapidly, as if trying to abruptly forget about the months you've been here, you tighten your grip on the book in your hands, feeling your fingers begin to sweat under the pressure of your fingers and how they begin to turn white from the strain. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to concentrate on reading the book again, but you can't.

Your thoughts are racing through your head, like they're trying to make you think about nothing else. But no, you won't fall for it.

Realizing that you are unlikely to be able to read the book, you catch a glimpse of Hank, who is mumbling something, touching the hard strings of the guitar with his long fingers. He hummed a little on it, as if trying to compose a tune, while muttering to himself. He didn't seem to have any ideas for a new song. Does that mean he'll finally realize he doesn't need you?

Simply put, you didn't like the fact that Hank considered you his muse, as he said, you inspire him to new texts and poems, but vo always doubted it. How can you inspire someone?

And yet you haven't given up hope that he just made a mistake and you're not the one he needs. However, over time, this hope disappeared. Vanished like dust.

You didn't love him. And you didn't hate him fiercely either. It was more like ... contempt or disgust. Contempt for his character, for his actions, which always drove you into a corner.

Apparently feeling your contemptible gaze on him, Hank raised his head from the paper and song sketches to you, carefully looking into your eyes. Your eyes widened and you felt a slight shiver, immediately shifting your gaze. You could literally hear his smile directed at you.

***

"I don't want to cook, Hank!" you shouted in a fit of anger, throwing down the rag you were using to wipe the plate that was currently placed on the top shelf. "I don't want to get out!" you saw his gaze penetrating your skin and making you goosebumps, but you sensibly ignored it. I didn't want to flatter his ego by begging for forgiveness. "I don't want to obey you! I want to be free!" the indignation and anger were clearly audible in your voice.

You've seen the way Hank looks at you. That scary look that tells you it's better if you listen to it.

"Songbird," Hank said softly, but with a hard intonation, chuckling derisively as he approached you with small steps. "You know you're my wife. Lady. You must obey me, " he was as light as if he were talking. As if there was nothing wrong with what he was talking about.

But no, since you're doing this, you're not just going to leave.

"I want freedom, Hank! You know perfectly well how I feel about you! So why do you force me to obey you?!" you've always been concerned about this question. It was unclear.

However, all your husband did in response to your harsh and loud statements was grab your wrists in a sick grip and pull them sharply towards him. There was a feeling that it was pressing so hard that it blocked the path of blood to your hands.

"I know how you feel about me. I know that you love me with the same pure and tender love that I love you, my sweet bird, " he murmured back, looking into your averted eyes as if trying to find the truth. "But I definitely won't let you talk to me in the tone you're using right now."

***

POV Hank

He liked to see you smile. Yes, even just a glance directed at him was immediately turned into a smile, which you received in return. Hank knew that even your slight movement would have been met by his gaze.

You were just beautiful in his eyes. His little, weak songbird. Your hair, which was currently arranged in a light bun on your head, basically tended to be disheveled; soft, thin lips that responded to him with sweet kisses that they shared in bed; beautiful eyes that you could get lost in, as they reflected the distance.

So beautiful, so gentle, so submissive, listening to his every word. This was exactly the kind of woman he needed. He was absolutely certain that she loved him as much as he loved her. Just as bright, just as beautiful and immaculate.

Hank never thought about finding a muse. His personal muse, which will always inspire him to write new poems. Such a lovely muse, like a doll.

***

"Hank, I'm not sure that was a good idea," the drawling voice drawled, shifting its confused gaze to Hank, who was clenching his teeth, holding on tightly to the beer bottle.

"Don, I did what I know I did. I absolutely wouldn't want to go to Cincinnati just because Jay decided to," Williams ' loud voice was heard clearly exclaiming indignation. "And with what will I go there? I have no new songs, no poems, no inspiration at all."

Had he exhausted his talent? If the poems are not written, then what should I do now? He didn't want to lose the repertoire of one of the most famous singers.

Suddenly, a bell rang, signaling that someone had entered the room. Hank looked indifferently at the door, through which two people entered, until he stopped at the second woman, who was currently smiling at the guy

He was impressed, although he often and always said that it was difficult to impress him. She was beautiful. Hank didn't notice his mouth open slightly in a little cultural admiration. Delicious.

Is it just me, or has he really found a new muse?

"Don, I think I've found a new muse."

***

Hank smiled as the memories of his first meeting with you flashed through his mind at a rapid pace. Oh, how nice it was to remember that.

As Hank ran his fingers lightly over his guitar, which he had kept since his mother had given it to him, he felt a slight slant of falseness and immediately wrote the note out of his notebook. No, it doesn't fit. You need to choose something more different.

"You make me cry," he muttered softly to himself, trying to find the right rhythm for this song that was created especially for his favorite songbird. Oh, and that's just right.

Inspiration washed over him in a huge wave, and Hank felt like a young man. In when the rhymes for the poems came every minute. Yes, and his mother with constant moving then put a lot of pressure on him. But when he and Audrey began an affair, Williams began to draw inspiration from his personal life and the quarrels that greeted him every day in his personal life with Audrey.

He didn't want to think about her. So vicious, so wrong. She was obsessed only with money and even took care of her son, whom she later took away, to the nanny. Disgusting. It was definitely not his woman. She wasn't the one he was looking for.

Hank looked up at you. He was pleased to look at you, but he felt that you were offended with him. However, knowing that the punishment he gave you was very severe, Williams still couldn't fix it. You deserve it.

"Songbird," the singer muttered, putting the guitar down and leaning it against the table. He took a quick step towards the bed, immediately lying down on it and wrapping his relaxed arms around your waist and burying his nose in your neck, feeling you shiver. "I love you."

Being with you always gave Hank pleasure and sensuality. He wanted those moments when you lay together on his, or rather on your shared, bed, together and talk about everything in the world. It's so romantic.

He didn't understand why you flinched when he touched you, though.

[dropsofletters]

the perks of loving in return

title: the perks of loving in return pairing: wong kun hang/reader genre: childhood friends!au/bridesmaid!au/groomsman!au summary: kun hang has always bled into her life, imprints of images in the back of every moment she has lived. something about him is always present in her, purely stuck to her soul in the most mundane of ways—two strangers united by fate. perhaps, it goes in hand with the fact that he is her cousin’s best friend, but their relationship has never gone past simple conversation. fate takes care of that along with her cousin’s rushed, out-of-the-blue wedding, basically pushing the bridesmaid and the groomsman together once again. type: fluff/romance/humor word count: 12,025 ⚠️ disclaimer: this is part of the love diaries, my valentine’s day project with wayv, if you want to read the rest of the members’ stories, you can click here and find the masterlist for it.

In her life, the concept of time is so tight that she barely had time to breathe. Still, she is one of those people that continues to use watches, the accessory an excuse for her to continue looking down at her arm, rushing from one place to the other, living her life in such a hurry that she barely got time to stop and stare at the beauty that surrounded her.

January is as beautiful as she remembered it, with its mornings that feel like will never come thanks to the Sun taking a little bit more time to awaken and the breeze that clings to her clothes, the perfect mixture of warmth and coldness. Then again, the heat may come from the fact that she is always running around from her campus to her workplace, forgoing the taxis and the helpful car rides to simply take a walk to whatever place she needed to be. She’s punctual, over all, loving when the clock indicates that she is ten or fifteen minutes earlier, indicating that she is even faster than responsibility itself—it brings her pride, taking the few minutes she has to take a break. This eventful morning, she gets to lean against a wall and look at the beauty of the city, how people seem to be slower in this time of the year. Everyone is still dizzy from the holidays, or perhaps putting their health first in the first month of the year, but it is rewarding in every possible way.

Waiting for ten minutes is one thing, but waiting for twenty becomes unbearable for her, growing tired of the glances people thrown her way and the ache that now settles on her fingertips thanks to the coldness around her. After all, being in front of a wedding venue in the middle of her busy day is not exactly what she had envisioned to be doing on her Saturday morning. She could have taken this time to rest before she had to go to her shift in the record store she worked at, or perhaps her fingers could have picked at the edges of her textbook, getting ready for yet another test…instead, she was there, staying after such a long while thanks to her cousin’s quickened and utterly pointless decision of getting married to high-school sweetheart. Surely, she is happy for them…but her back that is now practically glued to the closed door of the wedding venue they were supposed to be checking out is telling her to simply leave as is.

To hell being a bridesmaid. The weather is perfect to sit with a cup of hot chocolate, coated in marshmallows and ready for her to sip on as she thinks of her duties of the morning. Her agenda must welcome her with something new to do and the pleasure of crossing an activity with a bunch of lines after finishing it could never compare to anything else. She is a lover of organization, of color coding and planning the entirety of her life.

Speaking of lovers, someone who is the epitome of a million hearts drawn in a sheet of paper, red and palpitating even in its static figure, is nearing her with quickened steps. The black strands of his hair fell in wavy lines to frame his face, his most delicate features coming from his thin set of lips and playful eyes, like he is mocking the wind for not being able to stop him. Her mind recognizes the slim figure of him, the width of his nose, the shape of his smile when he sees her, one hand lifting up in the air to greet her with a wave, though it may as well be a warning for her to go. She likes to call him ‘lover boy’ with how loving and doting he looks, earning the appreciation of people for as long as she has known him—and it has been a big chunk of time since the first time she got introduced to him—. Life falls in love with him, people cannot figure out how anyone could hate him and she admits that she does not hate him, either, even though their conversations have always been somewhat shortened by reality.

She may call him lover boy in her head, but his real name is Kun Hang. The once youthful teenager that she had met in her cousin’s fourteenth birthday party, the same one that took the time to sneak snacks around during that fulfilling night for her to have and the one who whined when she had to go back home. From then on, she only saw him the year after that, on her cousin’s fifteenth birthday party and soon after, it became more common to see Kun Hang. Her cousin’s internet connection just happened to be faster and whenever she went over, she would be met by the sight of the sun-kissed boy that would always be worried about the amount of time she spent on homework or how she would hunch over when she was writing a paper, but other than that…the further away she got from her cousin, the less she heard from Kun Hang.

Though, she always knew everything that happened in his life—gossip of mouth coming from her cousins, or simply because she saw it on social media. Kun Hang, the ever loved guy, who had gone through a skating phase and fell in love once or twice before he fell to dull silence. Sometimes, when she saw Kun Hang in their spared time together, she wondered if he was part of her imagination, a memory that lingered on the back of every picture or the one voice she heard during birthday parties when she was helping up with the cleaning. Perhaps, Kun Hang came to her when time felt like it stopped, releasing her name in a breathy sigh when he stands in front of her.

He is significantly different, nothing she has not seen in pictures, but it has been well over eight months since the last time she saw him. Athletic in his clothing, his bomber jacket on top of his typical white t-shirt and jeans just exudes his name, it reminds her that Kun Hang has changed little to nothing since the moment she met him when he was just thirteen. If she is a lover of organization, Kun Hang adores to destroy it all—getting to a wedding planning meeting ten minutes late is so likely to be done by him, definitely unexpected from the couple who are actually getting married…but what else can she expect from her cousin?

“Is your cousin not here yet?” Kun Hang asks, trying to calm down his breathing by the time she shakes her head. She feels like she wants to run away, mainly because she has way more important things to do than being stood up by her cousin and his fiancé, but she opts to keep the man company for a little while, taking in the way he leans on the wall beside her. “Damn, and here I was thinking I got here pretty late. I had to park two blocks away from here and run all the way.” He speaks a little too quickly, turning to look at her before giving her a toothy grin. “Hi, by the way, I forgot to say that.”

Unlike her, Kun Hang has always been the calm type. Not exactly in the delivery of his jokes or in the way he dances when he is in the middle of a party, but with time. He thinks he has all the moments in the world to do everything and anything, even leaving some things for the last few hours he has before it needs to be delivered, but she is the complete opposite. “Hello,” She utters, crossing her arms over her chest after she says that. “I think it is the first time seeing you rush for something.”

“I am the groomsman and I can’t do my best friend dirty by not helping him out along the way.” In all honesty, she doesn’t think she has the most excellent of relationships with her cousin. They get along well, but she has always been a bit against his style of living. For her cousin, everything needs to be done and decided in just one second, and planning seems like a stupid way martyrs try to make their lives more difficult. Their argued words are respectful, but in the depths of her brain…she wondered if Kun Hang ever thought the same about her, that she had lived her life in such a methodical manner that she was merely existing. “What are you doing here? He didn’t tell me you’d be coming here.”

“He texted me last night. Said his fiancé wanted me as her bridesmaid.” She rolls her eyes, unaware of why she has to be one of those cupcake-looking individuals that stood behind the couple in the wedding pictures, but after giving it some consideration and being almost physically unable to say no to free food for an unlimited amount of time, she opted to come to this place and expected to get some planning done, as well as having the couple decide where their wedding party was going to be located.

Kun Hang seems delighted, though he quirks his eyebrows at her words. “You? As a bridesmaid? I don’t see you in the spot.”

“Ha! Me neither.” She scoffs out the answer, earning a laugh from Kun Hang. Something about her has always been funny, she found out earlier in her life, as if her imminent sarcasm is the newest of joking forms to him. Sometimes, she believes he just does it because he is like that—the Kun Hang that comes with no warning signs, the young man who will cage anyone in with his charms, and that almost caught her once or twice when she got a good look at him. Most of the time, she refrained herself from talking too much to Kun Hang; though a great man, she knows exactly what would happen with her brain if she got to know him better. It would find the charm in him and twist it to something that would linger fearfully in her heart, like a crush but worse.

Rolling on his side so only his left shoulder is resting against the door, he takes his phone out of his pocket before pressing down on the screen quickly, as if writing a text. “Well, I’m not sure, I haven’t seen you in long…” He comments and with a glimpse at his screen, she gets to see that he is texting her cousin. “Maybe, you’ve changed and now you’re into parties and formalities.”

A chuckle comes from the depths of her soul, feeling her stress dissipating to only a glimmering light in the back of her head. She turns slightly, as well, eager to get a good look of him when he finally lifts his gaze. “Never.” She claims, knowing full well that she would rather spend her free time snuggled up against her bed or simply catching up with music that she has yet to listen to, taking the time to relax rather than stressing out about clothing and talking in social events. “Besides, it has not been that long since you saw me last. It was eight, nine months ago…” The few lights in the sky shouldn’t touch his skin so marvelously, it shouldn’t make him see like he is in the utmost relaxed state, but he is. It shows in the way he simply enjoys the conversation, not even glancing at the time once.

“You keep track.” Kun Hang points out, his lips puckered up in a smile when she widens her eyes.

“Uh, not really…” She whispers, embarrassed from his words before turning her body away, looking ahead of her instead of basking in the warmth of his gaze. “I just know.”

“Right,” He adds. “Sometimes, I forget you really are a know-it-all.”

“Am not.” Argue is what she does, stepping away from the door to stand in front of him. She stretches her arms over her head, wanting to move a bit to feel like she is being useful with her time. From so much running and so much planning, she starts to feel like a marathoner, searching for a free day only to be met with more deadlines. She convinces herself that if she stresses out today, she won’t have to worry the next day, but it has been like that for quite a few years. She is used to it. “I just know that you are always there if I go to my cousin’s or anywhere he’s at.”

Kun Hang shrugs his shoulders, nodding his head at her words. “I am kind of his husband by now, that’s true.” He comments, moving his fingers as if he is playing a piano in the air or simply typing something in the breeze. “Don’t make me remind you that you are always in a computer like this. Last time we saw each other; you didn’t even greet me. That’s why it seems like it has been ages.” When he stops his motions, his talent of speaking as if he has a pout on his face when he is actually smiling surprises her.

“I— You didn’t say hello, either.”

“I am always the one to say hello.” The man indicates easily, a reminder that, indeed, she has always been too busy or embarrassed to spare him more than a glance and a simple wave, but the one that started the conversation was always Kun Hang. He is the party maker, a shade of red that is almost obnoxious, passion in human form. Even in his quietest of states, he manages to have people entertained by him…or at least, drawn to him. “Am I right or not?”

Keeping her mouth shut, she mouths a small: “I guess.” Before Kun Hang claps his hands together.

“I am so right!”

“…I am just so busy.” She comments, trying to defend herself with hard work and pointy facts, but her words are cut short when Kun Hang battles back with facts of his own.

“Do you ever plan to take a break?”

“I don’t.” She answers, a small smile displaying over her features. “I was just about to leave before you got here. I don’t have time to waste.”

“Ooh, sassy.” Kun Hang plays around with his tone, raising one hand in the air for her to high-five and once he does, she can simply bask on the sight of him. So happy, like he is genuinely glad that they get to talk without having anything interrupting them, or where she actually gives him more than one word answers. “Good thing your cousin is already here—” His finger points behind her and clearly, she gets to see the sight of her cousin’s old Volkswagen, obnoxiously yellow and bright, a shade that almost has her closing her eyes. When she hears Kun Hang’s voice, it is mostly teasing, though awaiting at the same time. “Well, now that you are a bridesmaid and I am playing the groomsman role, I feel like I can teach you a thing or two.” She looks at him, frowning at his words before huffing. “I am serious! I will teach you how to relax and enjoy life.”

Shaking her head, she greets her cousin with a wave of her hand. “Get over here, you’re late!” She exclaims, though she lowers her voice to speak to Kun Hang. Mischief is over his features, fixing the bucket hat on his head when she speaks to him. “Take me by surprise. I doubt you will get me to relax.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hell yes.” She comments, nodding slightly before she pulls the sleeves of her coat down on her hands. Nervousness is brought upon her when she realizes just how much she had talked to Kun Hang in such little time, wondering if she made a fool of herself or if she came off too rude, but instead, lover boy takes his hat off, placing it upon his chest and holding it in place with one hand, closing his eyes thanks to his delighted thoughts.

“I swear I will, I swear over my own name.” He tells her, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow soon after. “You just watch.”

Thankfully, the sound of her cousin’s voice is enough to distract her from the promise Kun Hang had just made. In reality, it is probably a play of his words, something that he says to sugarcoat her like he does to everyone else. Maybe, she won’t get to see him until more months and this is just her fix of Kun Hang for the year. Wondering is not something she does, but she acts upon what she actually has planned, which is entering the wedding venue and seeing just how good it is. The only difference is that he has a man by her side, constantly trying to make conversation with her.

It is just one morning with him, she is sure of it. Kun Hang has never been more than just a yearly acquaintance; he won’t be able to actually relax her, take her away from her city-girl lifestyle…but he does an excellent job that day.

📹

On the second week after her first meeting with the soon-to-be-wed couple, she thought she’d be a little bit more lightweight, able to simply text her cousin’s fiancé about the dress and how against she is of wearing tight fabrics, or any skirt for the matter, but that is not the case. Instead, she finds herself in the middle of a dancing class, the sound of some salsa tune reverberating on every corner of the room, holding on to her fingers to keep her sanity. Her legs are constantly moving and not with the need to repeat the steps that the loud dance instructor had indicated, but with the need to run away. If parties are not her scene, much less is an entire dancing routine as the entrance of the groom and bride the passage that she wants to take part of.

She could have said no—but then again, there is something about her that pushes her to finish something that she has already started, like the fear of failure sticks so badly to her skin it is unbearable to keep it there. Think of working out for long hours, only to stop midway through it because she cannot do it anymore, that is simply not her style. Instead, she rushed out of her workplace and took the biggest t-shirt she owned and a pair of those yoga pants she never got to wear in the first place, entering the dancing class that her cousin had talked so excitedly about. At the beginning, everything had been absolutely peachy, two steps to the right, two steps to the left and one to the front. Whatever it was, it was easy enough.

Until she got paired up with Yu Yan’s little brother, the exact replica of her cousin’s fiancé but in male form and definitely more annoying. His height could give have led him to believe he was an adult, a smirk practically plastered on his face when the instructor indicated that they needed to dance together. He really thought that when her back is filled with sweat and her head is thinking of all the possible ways to escape such place—through the window, the door or even by hiding, she doesn’t care at this point—, she is going to stand his…ignorance, his incompetence, his smug face as he makes yet another mistake and they have to go over the routine once again.

The truth is…she is not in the mood. She never wanted to be a bridesmaid on the first place. She would have been fine without the free dinner her cousin had offered whenever she wanted…but her curiousness had won over her, her need to do everything and anything, and now she was stuck with the same annoying tune repeating on her head over and over again.

Pulling away for a brief moment, with the excuse of having to drink water, she pushes her hair away from her face, trying to remember the breathing techniques she once learnt from some online article. This is what wasting her time does to her, when she feels like she is stuck doing something that is not productive. Sometimes, she knows it is important to take a break or two—which she does whenever she can—but this is entirely ridiculous. For someone who spends her afternoons in between punk enthusiast and rock fans selling records in a mall, and who works her hardest in college to get somewhat acceptable grades—with the occasional cry from bad results—, this is the lowest blow to her ego. A reminder that it only takes a single salsa class and an ineffectual dancing partner to reduce her to absolute insanity.

When she twirls the lid on her water bottle, taking a sip of the remaining liquid inside, she notices she had just finished it. Great, exactly what she needed when her mood is going through a volcano and burning itself alive in so much hatred that she could scream. She doesn’t, luckily or not, she is capable of keeping her lips shut when she feels someone’s cold bottle pressing to the side of her arm. When turning around, her mouth is already opening to snap at the individual who had done such an atrocity, but her words die down in the back of her throat when she sees who exactly was trying to bother her.

And the sight of his innocent smile, though a bit mischievous, is enough to have her question if there is one good thing that can come out from this dancing class…

Only one, though. One in the shape of the lover boy that is always a pleasure to talk to.

He chuckles, so heartfelt that happiness suddenly feels to be defined by his name. Kun Hang was in her peripheral vision earlier in the evening, his footwork smooth but also funny when he needs to ease the tension around the air. Something about him makes her feel like there are a million worries in the world, but now—this present that she is living—is just a second. In the blink of an eye, something could happen, something could change, the world will look unaffected, but there are thousands of matters taking importance in people’s lives. For every worry, there is a smile, there is a new beginning, there is a person out there who is trying their best…there is joy. From the early mornings in which she craves coffee more than the sunlight itself, she takes time for granted, planning days ahead, years ahead, always thinking of moving forward and forward and forward. Kun Hang is one of those people that live the moment. “I have some bottled coffee, if you want.” He offers, earning a surprised gaze from the woman in front of him. “Or you can lick the edge of the bottle to see if there’s a little bit of water there. Whatever floats your boat.”

Giving in, she takes the bottle from his hands, almost untouched, the iced coffee nicely welcomed in such a hot day. Kun Hang looks at her when she takes the first sip, hearing her rough voice soon after. “Thank you.” She tells him, pressing her hand against her forehead before sighing. “I really needed the coffee. I feel like I am about to lose my goddamned mind.”

“Is dancing not your thing?”

She takes a glance at the groups of people there, all paired up and conversing, getting ready for the absolute embarrassment that they are going to go through once the wedding comes around and they do a whole salsa routine as an entrance. If outdoing celebrations deserved an award, her cousin and Yu Yan are getting first place. “I have nothing against dancing,” She starts, reminiscent of the moments she danced in her room to the sound of her favorite song or the times in which dancing with her friends just seemed like the only way to stress about something else that wasn’t being better at anything she did. “But fuck, it is difficult when I have a sixteen-year-old boy telling me how a million girls would like to be in my place for dancing with him.” Her nose scrunches up at those words, watching as Kun Hang’s eyes widen, comically but also sweetly. “My question is: do all teenagers have to go through that cringe-worthy phase? Because his is hitting strong, and I am not having it.”

“I didn’t go through it.” Kun Hang says, earning a muffled laugh from her…because she truly remembers that phase that Kun Hang had gone through, in which every videogame he played deserved to be printed in a t-shirt and worn by him until the logo was imperceptible. “I didn’t!”

“Yours wasn’t as strong as mine, I’ll admit that.” She recalls, looking at Kun Hang with adoration in her gaze. The reality is that Kun Hang reminds her of the happiest moments of her teenage years, when all the pressure did not build up with the idea of the future and not becoming a memorable person, but he was always there…static, greeting her even if she was having a bad day and smiling even when she was awestruck by some crush in her high school years. Kun Hang exudes so much whole-hearted contentment, like all he wants to bring to the world is a smile. “This coffee is so good, by the way.”

“Thanks. One of my friends is a barista and I always have him making me the best of the best.” He comments, taking a good look at her before she takes another sip. The bottled drink is given to him, his smile changing to a confused expression almost instantly. “Uh, no, you can have it all—”

“I feel bad taking your caffeine intake away from you.”

“You really think this is my first cup of coffee?” Kun Hang asks, giving her the bottle back before scoffing. “I have at least two cups of coffee floating around this beautiful body of mine.” So energetic, lively, yet so softened in his own way. In the eyes of the world, Kun Hang is the type of guy to love during the summer or to talk to during boring days. He is a party in the form of a nice looking guy, exciting, yet not…what she is used to.

“I didn’t know.” She comments, taking one last long sip before putting the lid on and twisting it around in a secure place. “Unrelated, but sometimes when I have too many cups of coffee, I end up falling asleep.”

“You do?” Kun Hang asks, only to have her nodding as they walk towards the center of the dancing room. “I think it’s just your hard work that is making you fall asleep.”

Chuckling, she responds. “You’re not the first person who tells me that.”

“But it’s true! I would be surprised if you even sleep for five hours.” Guilty, she shrugs her shoulders, earning a small push on her shoulder coming from the man in front of her. “You don’t?!”

“…I don’t.” She announces, looking over her shoulder to see that, not too far but neither too close, there is that stupid teenager waiting for her to dance with him again—stupid and young, taking everything like a joke, imagining himself like the young Leonardo DiCaprio of his generation. “This guy is so annoying, what a fucking imbecile—” She speaks lowly, only to have Kun Hang humming, trying to understand the piece of her mind she had just given to the world. An awkward giggle leaves her lips, wondering why in the hell her patience has to be so damned short and why she can’t keep her mouth shut when she really needs to.

“Bo Jing is the imbecile?”

“…Yes.” She sighs, wondering how long it would take her to have to stand such extravagance for a mere union, but there is still quite plenty of time for it to end. February is just around the corner, Valentine’s Day the moment his cousin decided to marry the woman of his dreams. Does that term even exist in this world? A dream is a goal, for her, what appears in her mind that seems to be appealing enough, she reaches—love has never been that important. Overrated, no one is perfect, no one should be treated as so.

“Hey, Bo Jing!” Kun Hang speaks loudly and her eyes widen at the thought of the boy who exudes the definition of love being naïve enough to talk to Bo Jing about her distaste for him. In reality, the teenager simply raises his head, the eyebrow with a shaved slit lifting up at the sound of Kun Hang’s voice. “I’m dancing with her. You’re taking too long to learn the steps.”

Bo Jing’s face falls at those words, laughing slightly though his face reddened. “I—Uh, I was not, it was her fault.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Kun Hang tries not to pick a fight—much less with someone who is clearly underage and has the ego of a damned celebrity. Instead, he opts to make him feel better, taking her by the arm as he speaks. “Is that so? Then, I’ll have to teach her the steps.”

“Okay, that’s good!” The instructor says, clapping her hands together to start with the class once again. Kun Hang gets in position along with her, though the closeness is unbearable. His breath fans over her face, eyes glistening when he smiles down at her. His grip was not strong, neither was it delicate, it just seemed to be like it was meant to feel like this—with his hand grasping hers at a certain angle from their faces, his legs parting slightly, crooking underneath his weight thanks to the dramatic concept of the dance. She tries to do the same, bubbling up with laughter when he tries to muffle his. The lack of space is not something she would have ever imagined could happen with Kun Hang, and though it is merely for entertainment purposes when the wedding does arrive, she knows that she shouldn’t feel half as affected as she is when his chest press to hers when his other hand rests on her waist. His knee bumps against her, fixing the movement of her knee.

“Thank you for saving me,” She replies, adding exasperation to her tone. The dramatics of her tone fit Kun Hang more than it would ever fit her; he has always been like that—not the type of person to demand attention, but that gets it naturally. Flowers bloom from him, in all shapes and colors, sometimes funny, sometimes beautiful, sometimes there to remind someone in the middle of their hectic day that there is youth in all of us. Immature, Kun Hang is, in the most delicate of ways—he is leaning more towards childishly happy than anything else. “And thank you for cracking all the bones in my body with this position. It really helps as a reminder that I’m getting older.”

“Chiropractor Wong Kun Hang at your service.” The comment sounds so oddly funny in his lips, making her throw her head back slightly as she laughs. Hearing the sound of the music starting, moving the moment Kun Hang starts with the steps. The fluidness is there, though there are still some moments in which they bump against each other or that they laugh when they steal glances and realize that this is way too serious. Unnecessarily so. With his hand now resting on her back and their cheeks practically squished together thanks to the dance, speaking to her even through the music. “Fourteen-year-old me would have screamed if someone ever told him he’d up dancing salsa with you.”

The meaning is ambiguous, perhaps because he truly just did such thing because he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable with another person…or because he truly enjoys the pace, the natural enchantment, the weightless feeling of being around each other in such a different way. They have been acquaintances for as long as they can remember and still, there is still so much to peel and uncover from the other. “Fourteen-year-old me would have cringed.” She says after he raises her back up from leaning her against her back, the vibration of his laughter matching the rhythm of the music pumping through her skin, becoming one with her heart.

“You, right now, are cringing.”

“…You’re not wrong.”

Serenity settles between them, even if the instructor is clapping to a tempo, screaming for instructions, talking over the music. Even when there are other pairs of feet hitting against the same floor as them, moving with the same motions. Talking to him comes naturally, like he really does make time stop—as if the clock doesn’t exist when she is with him, lovely in everything he does.

📹

What is an instant?

An instant is the blink of an eye, if she’s not sleepy, wishing for nothing more than wrap herself up in her blankets and forget that there is even an alarm, that is. An instant is the breath she gives in normal occasions, reminder that she is a palpable being in the planet. An instant is the seconds in the microwave when she just needs to eat something, but when her stomach is twisting in hunger, it is an entire eternity. When people grow older, instants become more constant—years feel like months, some days feel like years, a moment becomes a blurry memory that feels like it existed but it also didn’t, the greatest of times are considered instants. Her life is full of stressful instants, those minutes in between every planned activity that remind her that the twenty-four hours a day gives are not enough, and will never be enough.

Right now, she feels like she can’t do all the things that she has to. Part of her knows that this just comes with the weight of the amount of projects he has to fulfill, this one professor taking his precious time to ask for specifics that could very well land her a job in the NASA with how picky, petty and meticulous they are. But, in her typical fashion, she has to find something even more stressing to cover up the anxiousness that settles within her when she finally finishes her project and still, still it doesn’t complete the checklist of expectations she had for it.

In her defense, though it may as well not be in her defense at all, she hasn’t been attending to wedding practices or anything of the sort simply because she is busy. She contacts the couple whenever she can, half-assed in her approach because she shouldn’t be caring about someone’s wedding, but there is not a lot of information she can play around with. That is her excuse for calling Wong Kun Hang at ten at night, simply because she needs to stress out about something else and a wedding along with a phone-call with the one lover boy that she has always felt attraction for sounds like the perfect hindrance.

Waiting for him to pick up feels like those mere seconds in which she waits for the water to boil when cooking pasta. Part of her wants to stop doing it, for too much work is not exactly what she needs at the moment, but at the same time—she wants to, but waiting brings anxiousness upon her and it definitely does not feel nice when she wonders if Kun Hang is just being nice and she’ll be able to take off that mask of charisma by calling him so late at night. Not even texting him, calling him.

“Oh, look who’s calling. Finally finished with the studying hibernation season?”

Studying hibernation season, more like her whole life. Though, Kun Hang already knows that. The most important matter right now is how she is laying against her bed, opting to speak lowly on the phone because if her roommate ever hears her speaking too loudly at night, she is definitely going to have to get through an earful of words in the form of a scold. Instead, she wonders what had gotten over her—looking for words is a hassle, going around from touching the hem of her shirt to pressing her palm to her eyes, in hopes of completely forgetting the shiver that runs down her spine when she feels embarrassment creeping up on her.

“Uh, not really. I’ve been working on a project all week, just finished it now…” The same week that she has been avoiding any kind of wedding preparations. She sits up on her bed, legs dangling from the side, fists tightening on the fabric of her blankets, gripping so tightly anyone would think she is having a call with someone of importance. “I was going to ask you how the wedding preparations were going. Did they find the venue? What about the dance, did they finally give up on that?”

“We wish.” Kun Hang adds softly, the rustling of sheets following his statement. Right, some people actually have sleeping schedules…and Kun Hang just seems like the type to have one. “To answer your question, though…” His voice trails softly, unlike his typical cheery tone. There is still happiness in there, threaded in between his sleepiness, but the difference in tone is spectacular. His range changes from cheery to the sweetest lullaby. “They found a venue after looking at a hundred more, but Yu Yan lost her ring after looking for a venue near the beach and getting inside the water.”

Gasping, she imagines the exact imagine in her brain. The waves clashing against each other softly, the scream that probably left Yu Yan’s lips and her cousin’s bank account asking for a break. After all, he likes giving himself a luxurious gift or two every once in a while, practically leaving him void of any money. “No way…”

“You should have seen her. Dude, I told her to not get in the water but then she just got in and honestly? It was expected, I’m not surprised.” Kun Hang’s tone is now more excited, as if he wants her to relive the moment with him. Nonetheless, she can only imagine how bad it feels to lose such a bright, big diamond ring. “By the way, you should totally come with us. In three days, Yu Yan is going to buy her new ring and she asked me to go with her.” The invitation is typical of Kun Hang; he wants everyone feel involved, to spend a good time with the people that surround his life, truly living the best times of his life with people around him. They are not friends, even though they know more about each other than some friends do, but even then…everything has fallen into place for them, not exactly because they seek each other’s presence in their lives.

“Sure. I’ll see what I can do. Is the time confirmed yet?”

“Not really. I’m sure she’ll talk about it in that group-chat she made.”

“The one no one checks?” She chuckles, hearing a laugh coming from Kun Hang.

“That one.” He confirms, though the dull atmosphere in between them is changed the moment a second passes by. Suddenly, she realizes that her previous train of thought was right—they have never actually looked or wished to spend time with the other or even text each other, but they still had each other’s numbers.

“How did you get my number?” It is a weird question to ask…because, well, she is the one calling him at ten at night, practically uncovering the fact that she did ask her cousin for Kun Hang’s number, but that was a childish thing she did a few months ago, just in case she needed it. One never knows when you need an ex-skater to help you out with something.

“Remember that one time your cousin and I were racing with bicycles when we were, like, seventeen?” The memory is engraved in her brain. The cuts that had covered Kun Hang’s youthful face, cleaned up with a cloth even though his tears were impeding her actions, coaxing him through the endless pain with some nagging of her own. At the end of the night, Kun Hang was spared the broken leg and instead, sported a few Band-Aids on his face, of his favorite videogame characters.

“Indeed,” The laughter escapes her lips, remembering the distress she felt when she was called to help Kun Hang out. “What about it?”

“I just knew I would need your number if I ever got in trouble. You know, you’re always so…on time to everything. It’s either calling an ambulance or you.” There is something appealing about being a person of support for him, even if in theory they are nothing more than two people who happen to be in each other’s lives more often than they intend to. “What about you?”

“…I…just asked for your number.” She confesses, leaning back down on her bed before sighing.

“Ooh, that’s so cute.” The compliment should have not brought heat to her face but there he is, being the charmer that he is used to being. It doesn’t surprise her that Kun Hang has one or two people head over heels for him—or fourteen, for the matter.

“What’s cute about that?”

“You didn’t even ask me. That means I make you shy.”

“It would be stupid to ask for your number years after we’ve known each other…to you, specifically.” She retorts, releasing a breathy laugh soon after. “Wait, that sentence didn’t make sense. Too much studying is frying my brain.”

Humming the tune of a song, he interrupts himself to give his response. “Take a break.” He tells her. “I know it sounds impossible to you and you think you’re going to fail if you take a five-minute break, but I promise you, with my knowledge of an average student, that nothing is going to happen if you just…rest.”

“If only it was that easy.” Her mind is trapped in the confines of her own imagination, earning a scoff from Kun Hang.

From his side of the world—his instants being longer than hers, in his own patient mind, Kun Hang believes in the power of letting time be, for a race against the least unintelligible concept of reality, thus only conceptualized by supposition, the Moon and the Sun must be tiresome. In the very end, she’ll end up tired…and she’ll realize she didn’t lose an instant, but she lost a lot of what she could have earned with the littlest moments of taking care of herself. “It is not.” Kun Hang reasons. “But it’s important.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll take care of it later.”

“Later is not now, but I’ll take it.” Kun Hang’s breath fans on his end of the phone softly, coming from the yawn that he lets out. “I’ll head off to sleep. I’ll text you later.”

And unlike anything she has ever said before, she answers with: “Later is not now.” Before realizing what she just said, hanging up in time to hear the sound of Kun Hang’s laughter, meddling with her little goodbye.

That definitely goes to the top ten most embarrassing things she has said in front of him.

In typical Kun Hang nature, though, she does get a text.

📹

You don’t notice the shade of someone’s eyes the moment you meet them, or most likely, you don’t. You don’t notice what they may be going true, if a smile is just there for the sake of it, or if their short replies comes from a place of chillness or simply because they are too shy and anxious to utter long sentences. You don’t know how much time they will take away from your life or how many times you’ll get to hear their laughs. You don’t know if they’ll break your heart or if five years from now, you’ll even remember them—

Right now, she knows plenty of things that she didn’t know about Kun Hang before, when she was merely a teenager. His eyes are so brown they may have been works of a chocolatier in their most inspired night. Kun Hang is not one for short replies, too hyperactive to even be able to keep up with anyone, and he is always trying to make everyone happy—though not perfectly, but that is his charm. He is so raw, just honest with the type of person that he is, that it feels like it is meant to be. Five years or more from the day she got to know him, she can say that she doesn’t hate him. She doesn’t love him. They are not friends. They are not strangers. They are and they aren’t, but what are they?

She can’t specifically answer that, though she knows what she wants to be to him—a friend, the type of friend that they have always been meant to be, but they never became. Actually, she can’t actually answer the title they deserve to have now, for it is far too complex, too long in its story, but she can say where they are and a jewelry store is just the perfect setting.

Pristine glass showcasing the most expensive of jewelry, loudly presented by the ever-charismatic worker there, some good amount taller than Kun Hang. It is far too elegant for people like them, standing behind Yu Yan with equally as lost looks. The woman is definitely more interested, elegant hands grasping the diamonds and the rings in between her fingertips, meanwhile she is trying not to look at the way Kun Hang moves, going from one corner of the shop to another, pacing back and forth, sometimes getting lost in looking at something before returning to his spot beside her. The consequences are almost nonexistent, though, she prides herself in her talent of not being caught when she is stealing one or two glances at him from the corner of her eye.

This is the time of her life where she really is not sure if her mind gravitates towards the action of looking at him because she is thinking of how much his shirt makes him look like he is dressed as ‘Where’s Waldo?’ or because she genuinely likes what she sees. Although, it has never been quite a secret that Kun Hang is naturally attractive—the guy next door type of attractive, where she can imagine him as the type of man most people daydream having as their first love. Charming, with that glimpse of too much youthfulness, like he swears to live under the ‘ride or die’ phrase.

Suddenly, she feels his breath cascading over her ear when he speaks to her lowly. “There’s a pizza shop right in front, you want to go there?”

Weighting the options, it’s either waiting there until Yu Yan finally decides on a ring—and that won’t be soon, really—or going to a nice-looking pizza place, neon lights and yellow along with red colored decorations giving away a nice vibe. “I would love to.” She whispers back, calling Yu Yan’s name softly, only to get a hum from the busy woman. “We’ll go eat some pizza while you…decide…”

“I don’t mind. Bring me some.”

That’s the cue for them to go out of the place as quickly as they can, either because looking around various jewelry places with Yu Yan is tiresome on its own or because they are really hungry. She takes the time to bask in simple conversation with Kun Hang, her hands in her pockets as she listens to him ramble about his favorite choices in food—he’s a wild card, going from the most expected of things to different pleasantries he has tried, not exactly minding the taste of a flavorful pizza. Kun Hang tries his hardest to make her feel at ease, like he has done for the past few years endlessly, and still, she can’t wrap her mind around it.

It’s too difficult to understand why he smiles at her when she tells him her favorite pizza topping, only to earn a chuckle from him. “Typical college student order.”

“Oh, excuse me, you’re calling me typical?” She asks, pushing the door open to see some black haired water, wearing a red cap and the most appealing smile when Kun Hang waves at him, though his attention quickly goes back to the person by his side.

“Not really, but your college should pay you for the amount of publicity you give them. All you seem to care about is that, which is amazing, but…breathe for a second.” His words are not meant to offend her, instead, he is trying to push the worries away from her. Working too hard is her brand, the clothes she wears every morning, afternoon and night. It is, indeed, fulfilling on the long run…but a single failed attempt at something is enough to tumble her down, breaking her to shards of the person she is. “I admire you for never complaining, though.”

Chuckling, she looks at the board that describes all the toppings for the pizzas and types of sauces, only to continue the conversation while doing so. “I do complain. Mostly mentally.”

“Why do you never complain to someone else?” He asks.

“Because I don’t want to bother anymore.”

“You never bother me.”

“That’s because you don’t actually talk to me that much. If I started to ramble about my tests and the topics I’m excited about, and the classes I love and hate and whatever, you probably wouldn’t listen.”

You don’t know how a person is going to react when you open up to them even the slightest. You don’t know if they’ll laugh, if they’ll remain quiet, if they are faking their reactions or they mean it. What she doesn’t know is that there are numerous perks to Kun Hang and they show in the way he looks at her, like she has just described his favorite fairytale, one that brings him memories from his past. In Kun Hang’s case, like she had reminded him of the videogame that he used to play when he was younger.

“I would listen to all of that. I wouldn’t get tired.” He shrugs, licking his bottom lip before biting down on it. Reaching for his wallet inside his pocket, he continues. “You know what? Let’s order something and sit down. Let’s have our first long conversation.” The sincerity and determination in his voice is quickly deleted when his voice drops slowly, eyebrows molding into an expression of insecurity. “If you want, of course.”

It sounds fitting after so many years, and for the first time, she doesn’t question what she knows or what she doesn’t, she simply lets Kun Hang lead the conversation, no matter of pointless of open it is.

📹

One day, everything becomes a pattern.

For example, she checks her phone when she gets out of class, most likely at around eleven in the morning, when she is moving from one part of the campus to the other, tightening the strips of her hoodie to keep it place, smiling at the messages Kun Hang leaves her, to which she responds as quickly as possible. But there are even worse routines, like spending every Saturday helping his cousin get to the aisle with the love of his life and having to deal with the impossibilities of being a bridesmaid. Dress trying is not supposed to be one of those hardships, but when Yu Yan had spoken about short, tight dresses, she had eventually weighted the options of simply leaving the spot at the wedding for someone way more fitting. Someone who, in this instance, is not her.

One of her habits, amongst many others like basically living with her face buried deep in a book and sometimes eating on her bed for being too lazy to even stand up, there is this one that she acquired once entering college. Any possibility of high heels was exchanged for sneakers, all skirts and dresses were pushed to the back of her closet, only purchased to wear once in her life before opting to wear her typical leggings instead. She had become quite lazy with style; she can sincerely accept that. When there are more important matters in hand, wearing a skirt is the least of her worries—beautiful they are, but not good for running around the campus to get to her classes.

Which is why she basically feels odd when she tries the purple dress on, the lilac shade appealing to the eye, but the skirt of the dress short enough for her to bend over and basically have her underwear displayed to everyone in the wedding reception. The more she looks at it, the more she wants to simply say it doesn’t fit her and put on her leggings, because as pretty as it may be, she has grown used to a certain version of herself, hard to battle when she remembers just how much exposure she will get from that wedding. Families and friends alike, all looking at her dancing to whatever song she had learned and wearing a purple dress and most definitely posing for pictures that she will hate in the long run. The only thing keeping this wedding somewhat acceptable is the food and, of course, her dancing partner.

Her dancing partner, Kun Hang, who was trying his suit on earlier and he had looked like the epitome of a prince. Someone like him is not expected to ever wear a tuxedo, but the black fabric and the white of the shirt that he tucks underneath matches him perfectly, wearing the same shade of purple in his tie than the one on her dress. The dress that has her locked up in a changing room, wondering if she will be able to get out without feeling like absolute shit.

The wedding is in two weeks. She better just get out there and be brave. It’s just a simple dress. That is what she promises herself, but the moment she unlocks the door, she releases a shaky breath.

Someone should have listened to her opinion of wearing pants.

Luckily for her, people are too tired with their own looks, fixing the smallest details and going around the shop to look for the shoes that they are going to wear, but a few steps away from the changing room lets her see that there is someone seated there, looking down at his phone with peace, his normal state of mind. Kun Hang still has his suit on, immaculate as in the beginning, but she is now aware of how right she is about the fit and the style, all made for Kun Hang.

Lifting his gaze at the sound of a door closing, Kun Hang barely acknowledges her before returning his gaze to his phone. It takes him around three seconds to look up again, a soft smile caressing his features when he realizes who it is. “Is there anything bothering you? You look like you’re going through it.”

“Trust me. I’m going through it right now.” She finishes, pulling down the hem of her dress before sighing. “It is way too short.”

“Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a dress. You don’t like them?” Kun Hang questions, not the most observant of men, but when it comes to her, he seems to know much more than she gives him credit for. It is as though she is not as good as she makes herself out to be when it comes to hiding her feelings, or Kun Hang just knows her too well. Shaking her head, she gives him the answer he expected. “You should talk to Yu Yan about the length, then. I’m sure she can get it fixed—”

Plopping down on the seat beside him, she imagined just how much of a mess that would be. This is one of her tipping points when everything in her life seems to be too much and accepting to be a bridesmaid, on top of all, just seems to succeed on breaking her apart. “I’ll just leave it like that.” She comments, watching as Kun Hang reaches for his backpack, taking his leather jacket out of its confines before wrapping it around her waist. “Uh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He comments, looking up at her after tying it in a knot, the closeness long gone. “Besides, if you’re not comfortable with it on its own, then I’ll help you cover it.”

“Thank you.”

“I am here to help.” He comments, taking one look over his shoulder to see the drinking bridesmaids along with the groomsmen, hearing them chatter with incredible excitement, trying on glistening heels and jet-black dressy shoes. Everything seems to be perfect, like it comes out of a movie, and there are two outcasts in the background. Getting his camera, one that she has noticed him using to film the preparations of the wedding, he starts recording with a smile on his face, taking his time to get a good shot.

“What are you recording?” She doesn’t realize that she is practically pressing her chest to his back, resting her chin on his shoulder to see the screen that displays a moment to be remembered.

“The wedding preparations. I had to make a speech but I decided to leave that to someone else and edit a video.” He chuckles at his words, as if there is something funny in that. When his neck turns to have his eyes looking at her, she thinks there is so much care in them. Beauty is one thing, but feeling like he protects her from one gaze is something she is not used to. Her mind is set on doing everything on her own, a lone individual in between seas of people. “I just so happen to have a lot of footage of you.”

Smacking his shoulder, she argues: “I hope it is good footage.”

“The perks of having such a good filmmaker right in front of you is that they are very nice.” He conquers, pride blooming from his words before his shoulders shake slightly with his laughter. “…And…it is always good footage if you’re there.”

For a brief moment, she wonders if this is the time where they actually become friends or the moment she realizes that all along, this entire time, all she has wished for him is to…to like her. Like her how she likes him, absentmindedly and purely, from afar but also so close, having both worlds in their hands. Good and less good, because nothing is bad with them; Kun Hang is a memory she will remember on the day of her death, a man who’ll bring all the shades of him to the room with his blossoming excitement. However, she can’t express that, instead opting to go for the safest, quite lame response and it goes along the lines of:

“Thank you for the jacket. It’s very sweet of you to do this.”

What she means, though, is an entirely different thing.

📹

“Stop recording me as I’m eating a slice of Red Velvet cake.”

“Don’t break the fourth wall for the viewers.”

“What viewers, Kun Hang?!” Now, with her fork dangling from her fingers and her mouth trying to chew on the juicy, delicious, very colorful red velvet, she finally turns to look at him and that infamous camera that he holds in between his hands. It is directly aimed at her, now more shameless than ever, two days away from Valentine’s Day and also, the day of his cousin’s wedding. The getaway is simple, some dinner and dessert to celebrate the couple’s bachelor party. Weird, staged, completely their style and yet, she doesn’t regret cramping more studying in the afternoon to be able to have such delicious meals. “…Oh shit, I forget you’re actually going to air this at the wedding. Don’t you dare put this in.”

Blame it on sugar high, but Kun Hang is a thousand times bolder when his cheeks are red and he is eating yet another slice of those volcano chocolate treats that everyone has been talking about. “Can’t blame me for recording the most interesting person in this event.” He tells her as a matter of fact, with all the width of his chest like he is not even ashamed to say it. At this point, he may not; in between the constant pizza getaways, the texts, the shared smiles and the practices, she doesn’t think there is a line in between them anymore. It is insanely scary, not because of him, but because of the situation. One day, Kun Hang will mean more than he ever has—as a friend, as the person she lost after this wedding, whatever his title is going to be after that. It is the effects of talking back to someone, of returning whatever interest he has in her, friendly or not. “Anything to say about the Red Velvet? Did you like their last album?”

“Huh?” After taking a few minutes to understand his joke, she laughs softly. “Is that the best joke you have?”

“Yeah, sorry, don’t even listen to me.”

Slicing some of the Red Velvet, she feels like she is going to regret ever getting close to him, alone in their shared table while everyone else is dancing, chatting, doing whatever it is that this bachelor party is about. Or not, she may not even regret this at all. This is the magic of him as an irony, making her believe something before her own mind twists around its axis. She brings the fork closer to him, watching as his lips part when she feeds him, a little bit of the frosting falling on his lips before he licks it off. “There you go, now you can judge by yourself.”

“That’s the best cake out of all they gave us!” Kun Hang compliments, wrapping his hand around the camera before zooming in and out of her face repeatedly. “To be expected out of our best food critique—”

Placing her hand on the lens, she sighs. “Can you stop zooming in my face like you’re recording a wild animal?”

“Seeing you out of your dorm is already a rarity on its own.”

“Just eat this Red Velvet cake with me before I actually decide to go back to my hibernation.” Though, it is the only time she ever jokes around with matters like that with someone. Staying in her room has always been safety, four walls that understand who she is and never say anything about it—they are unable to, after all, but Kun Hang seems to look past that. As charismatic as he is, he would be able to easily go to the rest of the individuals in that room and bask in a relaxed conversation, hearty and light, but he decides to stay with her. Out of all subjects, he decides to record her.

That, on its own, is a compliment. A perk, out of the many he has.

📹

The sight in front of her may as well be part of her imagination. She is seated at her desk, probably, still daydreaming about the moment that nightly class finishes with a tender conclusion and no homework, enough for her to go back home and actually catch up with sleep, because the constant ache in her eyes is a huge indicator of her tiredness. Instead, the night welcomes her in such a breezy weather once she steps out of the campus, wondering why in the hell her dorms are not closer and why she should walk all the way there—or perhaps, she should take a taxi, but would that be considered lazy given that it’s just three blocks away?

Yet, the night spits him out magically, placed in front of her with each of his legs resting on the sides of his bicycle. In most occasions, people would have laughed—someone his age would probably prefer a motorcycle for the sake of an aesthetic, but Kun Hang is still hanging on to that old bicycle he got as some Christmas present. He shouldn’t have looked half as heavenly as he did, hair moving with the wind, wearing comfortable clothing for the somewhat cold weather and sporting the biggest smile. Through sunrise or sunsets, Kun Hang always seems to be warm, much more when she nears him as she grins on her own accord, trailing her gaze across the bicycle before speaking up.

“I didn’t know you still had that bicycle!”

“I am saving the environment and doing a work-out, I think I’ll keep it for a while.” Something about him different, like worry really made a home out of his brain and he had gotten to where she was as soon as possible. Earlier on the day, she had told Kun Hang her last class would be at nine at night, but she didn’t expect him to ever get close to the college campus. Some people are passing by, but she is concentrated in what he says next. “Get on. I’m taking you home.”

Scoffing, she looks at him instead of inspecting the bicycle. “We’re both getting on your old bicycle just so you can take me home? What if we fall?” She asks, all too serious about anything in life, but Kun Hang looks for the second helmet by his bicycle, tossing it at her so her hands catch it.

“You’re just lucky I am one with speed.”

Maybe, it is stupid. The fact that she gets on the bicycle, hands grasping for him in order to keep herself in place, smiling when Kun Hang actually goes a bit slower to keep her safe, or at least to make her feel like she is so. The wind knocks the air out of her lungs, a huge smile taking over her face as she extends her neck slightly, only to look at the city surrounding them. Kun Hang speaks over the noise, asking about her day and this may be a warning sign from life, telling her that they are far too close now and she is starting to get lost in the feeling of having him there—

But it is not life that is pulling them together anymore, they are in the same space at the same time whenever they want to. The warning sign should be that this is her decision now, no longer letting everything go but simply deciding to stay by his side. Where are the perks in that?

📹

I procrastinated. Sorry I can’t give you your gift today.

What?

Just…what?

This is not the message she should be getting when she is walking to a beauty salon with the rest of the bridesmaids, when her stress is up the roof with how Yu Yan is basically screaming to everyone’s faces, complaining about even the smallest of things. The messages stare back at her with confusion and the question previously asked definitely goes back in the form of a text. Valentine’s Day is at its peak, people going around with big bouquets, chocolates and busy lives, probably uniting a day between professional life and love. On the other hand, she is living romance through the mind of a petty bride that does not want her hair to even look remotely tussled in any single way, basically having the worker re-do everything they had done before. Everyone else is at the verge of insanity, too.

For a few hours, she doesn’t even check her phone, but she does wonder what kind of gift she could get from Kun Hang. Valentine’s Day is not necessarily…for friends, though it can be, and she is trying to make herself believe that it is something Kun Hang wants to give her for their new connection, not something that lingers with a warm feeling of the culture of love. But it is there, the anticipation, the wonder of what kind of gift she could be getting from him and the message remains unanswered to when she gets out of the salon, hair done and now ready to get her dress on and fix the case of runny lipstick if necessary.

It is when she is nearing her dorms when she hears her phone going off with a text, not once but twice, but then again, she has more important things to do than sit down and reply to the text. On the other hand, it could be a very important e-mail for a project, but she tries to ignore it as she goes up the stairs. Her thighs are aching, head thumping and worries booming with the need of going back home, slipping in the covers and forgetting this wedding even exists, that in five hours to be exact, she is going to be in a wedding and an hour after that, she is going to be dancing some salsa song with Kun Hang.

...The name immediately makes her check her phone.

The grip on her phone is too clammy, too tight, instead opting to click on the video he sent her after saying ‘Finished it!’ in a text. If this is his gift, then it may as well be a long one, over seven minutes of a recording making it look like tough work. Her eyes focus on the filter on top of the recordings, all things that they had gone through for the past month. The way she laughs is what is presented first, cringing at the sight of her laughing at one of the groomsman’s jokes, and Kun Hang was far away to perceive it. Soon after, their conversations are the ones that are being recorded, from the ones they had in the changing room to many they had during practice, where his camera would just gravitate towards her. In there, she notices the adoration in his voice, the sweet tone in which he starts his sentences and how it never dies down.

What she doesn’t expect is to see some pictures scattered at the end, places in which they had been at the same time but they had never connected. Birthday parties, to be exact, in which Kun Hang was leaning over the couch she was seated at, trying to get a glimpse of her work only to have her smiling. They were far too young, too lost in their own thoughts to even wonder what it was that united them…and now, she really sees that Kun Hang has always wanted to be there, desired to get closer but never needed it. Unlike her, whose roses of love bloomed from a textbook, whose favorite romances came from movies, someone who has only thought of the warning signs of crushing on someone, the downfall, knowing how bad it is on its own, but she has never seen its perks.

The perks of liking someone in return. Softly, decidedly, like she means it with her entire heart.

It is cheesy, definitely, she cringes when Kun Hang goes as far as asking her out with simple text at the end of the video—a simple date, he asks for, and she hates that he has gone to this extent to get her attention, but he did. That’s just his style. Obnoxiously charming.

Just…that’s Wong Kun Hang, the utmost form of himself, and she wouldn’t trade him for anyone else. A lover boy, he is, and now it seems he is one for her.

#hendery scenarios #hendery #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #cpop scenarios #writing #the love diaries #wayv fluff #wayv au #nct fluff #nct au #hendery fluff #hendery au #groomsman!hendery #there you go #another part of the love diaries #tell me what you thought!!!

[sometimesiwritebadly]

Rehearsal (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: Peter and you have to rehearse a scene for your theatre class, which just so happens to have a kiss in it. (Gender neutral reader!)

Prompts: 1. “Why would you do this?” 22. “This is the part where you kiss me.”

Warnings: good old fashioned fluff

Note: Lol this one kinda got away from me. I used a random number generator to choose the prompts and only expected this to be like 800 words max but I ended up with over 2k so. but I really like what I ended up with so I hope y’all do too <3 mostly from Peter’s POV btw. oh and I tried to keep it gender neutral but it’s natural for me to write with a female reader so let me know if I accidentally left a few she’s/her’s in there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

Peter Parker is a nerd. He’s good at science and math, which is why he’s attending Midtown School of Science and Technology. Despite the STEM focus the school has, there’s still a requirement for at least one art-related class in order to graduate. When Peter chose an entry level Theatre class, he hoped it would focus more on the study of famous plays than actually having to stand on a stage and act. Peter was very, very wrong. For the first assignment of the semester, students had to pair up and perform a short, dramatic piece. He had been paired with Y/N Y/L/N, who he had a minor crush on. Ok, major crush. After he and MJ broke up last year, he honestly didn’t think he’d find anyone else for a while. But then Y/N transferred to Midtown, and he was whipped right from the start. 

“Look man, you gotta use this opportunity to make a move!” Peter and Ned were walking down the hallway between classes, Ned trying to convince Peter again that this was a great chance to finally tell Y/N how he feels. “Just look up some cute scene for the two of you to perform! It’ll be like when Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie fell in love on set!”

“I’m pretty sure they broke up, Ned.”

“Whatever. The point stands.”

The pair approached their lockers, where you were waiting. You had a few papers in your hand, which held your attention until you noticed Peter in front of you.

“H-hey. What’s up?” Peter tried his best to contain his stutter, but couldn’t help it. Y/N just had that effect on him.

“Hey Pete, I, um, I found some potential scripts for us to use for our assignment. I thought you could look over them before we rehearse at mine on Friday? I like them all, so whichever you wanna go with is fine...although I did put a star next to my favorite piece.” You handed half of the papers you were holding to Peter, keeping copies of each script for yourself. Peter noticed that the copies you kept had already been highlighted and annotated, while his were straight from the printer. Except for the small star at the top of the first script in his stack. Before Peter could respond, the warning bell began to ring, signaling only a minute to get to your next class. “Just text me whichever one you want, and we can walk to my place after school tomorrow to rehearse.” You said this as you began to walk away, giving Peter and Ned a small wave before you turned around to race to your final class of the day. 

~~~

Instead of paying attention to his teacher’s lecture during Chemistry, Peter spent the 50 minute period reading through the scripts you had chosen. Peter already knew he wanted to perform the script you liked, but he was nervous. Your favorite scene happened to be the only one which called for a kiss, but he didn’t know if he had the guts to go for it. He could easily choose either of the other scenes and call it a day, but...well, was this your way of making a move? Had you intentionally chosen the script with a kiss to find out if Peter liked you? Did you like him? Or did you just choose that one because you genuinely thought it was the best option?

The bell rang, interrupting Peter’s thoughts and signaling the end of the school day. Hopefully a few hours of swinging through the streets of New York would be enough to distract Peter from thinking about you all night. For once, Peter was actually hoping New York criminals would keep him busy.

~~~

When Peter slipped through the window of his bedroom, his thoughts were unsurprisingly still revolving around you. Despite a somewhat busy night - two muggings, an almost-car crash, and one lost little girl now safely back with her mother - He still hadn’t been able to come to a decision. Half an hour ago you had texted Peter asking if he had chosen a script yet, and he still hadn’t responded. 

“Just go with the script they want, Pete. Even if Y/N doesn’t like you, at least you’ll get to kiss them.” He thought as he removed his skin-tight supersuit and changed into some sweats and a t-shirt. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his backpack, and, after another minute or so of arguing with himself, finally began to type.

8:31 pm

Y/N:

hey pete, have you decided which script you wanna do yet?

9:06 pm

Peter:

Uh, yeah. I think the one you liked is the best.

9:08 pm

Y/N:

yesss, i was hoping you’d choose that one. i have great taste ;)

9:08 pm

Peter:

Haha, yeah, you do. We’ll rehearse tomorrow after school right?

9:10 pm

Y/N:

yup! i’ll meet you by your locker again :) see ya tomorrow pete

Peter decided to let the conversation end there. Honestly, he had no idea what to think. What does “I have great taste ;)” mean? Is that a reference to the kiss? Does this mean they like him? Or is it just a joke? Peter sent a screenshot of the conversation to Ned for help, but Ned being Ned wasn’t helpful at all. 

9:15 pm

Ned:

Just. Make. A. Move. 

9:16 pm

Ned:

Betty thinks you should make a move too.

Despite his confusion and nerves over tomorrow’s rehearsal, Peter managed to fall asleep at a reasonable time. Hopefully tomorrow he’d get the answers he was looking for.

~~~

Peter waited by his locker after the final bell rang. As the hallways began to clear, he noticed you making your way over to him.

“Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting too long. My English class is basically all the way across the school.” You looked nervous. Is that good? Or bad? Have you been thinking about the kiss too?

“Y-you’re fine. I’ve only been here for like a minute.” That was a lie. Peter’s Chemistry class was just across the hall from his locker, but you didn’t need to know that. After he finished talking, you seemed to lose all sense of nerves.

“I guess it wasn’t me causing the nerves then…” Peter thought, his mood dropping a little.

“Oh good. Let’s get going then, my apartment is only a couple blocks from here.” And so you began the short walk to your place. You made some small talk on the way there, talking about your other classes instead of the one class you did share. 

“You have Mrs. Jenson third period right? I have her during fifth. Maybe we can study together for her tests...I know the school year just started, but I can already tell she’ll make her tests unnecessarily evil.” You said as the both of you entered your building. 

“That’s a good idea, I know someone who took her class last year and they said she always had essay questions. Not to mention 5 choices for multiple choice questions instead of the usual four.” Peter responded. As he spoke, they headed towards the elevator, and Y/N pressed the button, causing the doors to immediately open. After hitting the number 4 on the wall, the doors slowly began to close. Despite the unfortunate news he was sharing with Y/N, his voice had a hopeful tone to it; They want to hang out with him again. Sure, it’s just loose plans to study for a test sometime in the future, but hey, he’ll take it.

“Damn. History has never been my subject, so I’ll definitely need the extra study time. I can never remember all the important dates.” Your phone buzzed after that, causing you to glance down at it. As you responded to whoever had texted you, Peter was left to his thoughts when the elevator began to move. It wasn’t until the elevator doors opened and you stepped out that the conversation resumed. “That was my mom, guess she’s gonna be at work for a few more hours. We can order a pizza if you want, I’m not sure how long we’ll be rehearsing today.”

“Pizza, uhm,” Peter’s voice cracked, “Pizza sounds good.” Peter cursed to himself, but if you had noticed his voice cracking, you had the decency to ignore it. You pulled your keys from your backpack, and unlocked the second apartment on the floor. 

“Cool, I’ll order something online. Pepperoni ok for you?” You asked as you walked into the apartment, holding the door open for Peter. Peter only nodded, not really trusting his voice for the moment. He took a second to look around the place as you closed the door behind him. When you came into his eyesight again, you were looking at your phone, presumably ordering the pizza. “Since my mom isn’t here we can rehearse in the living room, it’s just this way.” Peter followed you as you led him across the apartment, then sat on the couch. He tried to give you space as you continued punching in the pizza order. While you were busy, Peter opened his own backpack and pulled out the script you had agreed upon. Last night he had highlighted his lines, although luckily for this assignment the teacher had mentioned that memorization was optional. After all, the school year had just begun and it was a beginner’s class.

“Ok, pizza will be here in like half an hour. Now we can get to work!” You quickly pulled out your own script from your backpack, and turned to face Peter. “Do you wanna just read through it a few times, then once we’re used to it we could start working out the blocking?” You suggested.

“Y-yeah, sure, that works for me.” Peter was relieved at this option; read throughs meant he didn’t have to worry about the kiss yet. “Your character starts, right?”

And so the two of you began reading through the script. It was short, only a few pages, and featured someone on the day of their wedding, and the man who was trying to convince them to leave their fiance. At first, the reading was a little awkward, as neither of you had any experience in acting, but by the third or fourth time you had gone through the script together, both of you were feeling much more comfortable. Instead of sitting away from each other on opposite ends of the couch, you were close, the way your characters would be. The blocking had even begun to take shape naturally, so you and Peter stood for the fifth reading, walking around the room, trying your best to embody the characters as they argued. This time, as you approached the end of the script however, Peter’s nerves returned.

“Why would you do this? Just barging in here on my wedding day?” You said, trying to act as frustrated and confused as you felt your character would be. 

“You and I both kn-know you don’t love him! You’ll never be happy with him!” Peter tried to keep his nerves in check, but he knew what was coming.

“And how do you know I’d be happier with you?” Following the stage directions indicated on your script, you stepped closer to Peter. Instead of continuing with the scene, Peter just stared at you, no longer looking at his script. “Uh, Pete?” He still didn’t respond. You were confused, until you looked back at the script. You weren’t sure how you had forgotten, after all, this is why you chose the scene in the first place. “Peter, this is the part where you kiss me” You said quietly. You had taken his choosing of this scene to mean he liked you too, but you weren’t sure. His eyes widened a little at your words though, which made your confidence drop. “O-or not, um, we could do a stage kiss, or you could just kiss my cheek, or we could just cut it complet-” Peter cut off your rambling by putting his hands on your cheek and bringing his lips to meet yours. You were shocked, but easily melted into the kiss. He was gentle as he kissed you, his nerves disappearing the second you kissed him back. After a while, you both separated from the kiss. Neither of you spoke for a minute, just staring at each other.

“U-um.. that was ok, right?” Peter whispered, as you were still pretty close to him. You only smiled, and gave him another short kiss as a response. Before you guys could do anything else, there was a knock at the door.

“Pizza!” Someone said loudly through the wood. Before you could make a move, Peter had grabbed his wallet and was already walking towards the front door.

“I’ll pay...after all, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay on our first date?”

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker #fluff

[mapache-lector]

Coffees & Cactus. (Part 5 of 5)

Rating: T Pairing: Ben Miller x chubby!fem!Reader. Summary: Reader and two friends are owners of a café, Benny comes in and finds more than the perfect gift for Maria, Frankie’s daughter. (I hate doing this, sorry) Words: 1480 (oops!)

Warning: I think I wrote Reader pretty much general, but the characteristics I mention are that she’s chubby, has a genderless wardrobe and she’s dealing with depression and anxiety (the way I do, which I know it’s not the common stuff… or maybe yes?). So, have that in mind.

Author’s notes: Introducing Maria and Franklin the plant! Author’s notes.2: I will be forever grateful (and not to be dramatic) to @de-profundis-ad-astra​, to you Miranda, because this made me incredibly happy. I could connect with a part of me kinda forgot. I could write fanfiction again! ❤

Author’s notes.3: Hello, yes, it’s been a while since I wrote a fanfiction. It’s -not only the first one I write in a while- but the first in English! So, bearing in mind that, feel free to point mistakes and let me know!

•·················•·················•

He was so excited for her agreement of going out with him, that the grin went first forward that the rest of his body on his exit. Brit teased her about those minutes of heaven in the back, but she was happy for her friend. Both of them were.

She wasn’t the type of putting much effort in clothes, her wardrobe pretty much basic, casual and comfortable… and not for dates. She never went out on dates.

This is not a date.

Pants, jeans, shirts, sweaters, jackets. Black, dark blue, dark green, dark red, little details in gold, silver and white. Her clothes showed her genderless style and she knew she was being judgmental, but her style and type was not the one for Ben to like.

Watching her wardrobe open like it was the devil itself, let out a chain of curses and rushed to the bathroom to shower.

For a change, she was trembling with nervousness as she approached the bar Ben and she agreed to meet that afternoon.

•·················•·················•

Ben was at the door of the bar waiting for her. He came a little bit earlier to book a small booth, a bit far from the rest of the tables, and to make sure this place was comfortable to her, glad of the low music in the background and the quiet chatter flowing in the air; the dim light was a touch he wasn’t expecting but was welcome.

He was looking at both sides of the street like a hawk, swinging back and forth and sometimes pacing the street. Then he saw her, walking towards him, looking at the numbers of the buildings; his heart skipped beats when she spotted him and grinned brightly.

 “You look amazing, sweetheart.”

 “Same as you, fighter.” Her curious eyes were fixed in his shirt and he looked down to the two little pins Maria gave them for good luck.

 “Oh, Maria let me borrow them, you know, charms. This is Alice,” pointed to a cactus, and then to a plant. More glitter around them. “And this is Franklin.”

They sat at the booth and chatted about nothing till the waiter came, both ordering beers and fries.

Ben listened to her with his full attention, teasing her about trivial things and being total serious when the situation required it. Her big eyes were on him with curiosity every time he spoke about the MMA world, and for once, someone was not horrified by the subject. She asked about rules, championships and all the stuff she didn’t know because that was a world she knew nothing about. She asked about his brother, his friends, the times in the Army. Whatever he could tell, she listened with attention.

One beer after another came and passed, the fries were eaten one by one, and the topics of conversation never ran dry.

“Shakira before Piqué was the best!” She stated. They forgot the initial space between them and were seated close, facing each other and sometimes forgetting they weren’t alone, shouting and bickering out loud.

 “No way! She was suffering all the time.”

“Santiago or Frankie translated the songs to you? Those lyrics were the best and she had love songs too.”

 “The video clips? Weird.” He was trying to win the argument and was so sure of himself, he pointed her with the bottle of beer before taking a sip. “Like the one she’s a cartoon?”

 “Where the boob deflates like a balloon?” He almost spills over her trying to suffocate a laugh. “I give you that! I give you that one! That clip is weird. But, she-was-best-there- and that’s a hill I will die on.”

 “Oh yeah?”

 “Yeah, I’ll fight you on this.”

 “I bet ya would! Let’s make it official. Ask your friends and I’ll ask mine. The winner decides the next date.” Her breath got caught on her throat. 

They wrote the same text and sent them, and waited for the answers. Of course, she won.

 “IN YOUR FACE, MILLER!”

 “Please, bear with me, don’t you listen to the new songs and they lift your spirit?”

She tried not to respond to that, winning time sipping the last of her beer. “I… Yeah, yeah, yeah okay, but in lyrics–“

 “OOOOH YOU’RE BETRAYING YOURSELF!” He yelled. “Betrayal! Betrayal!”

They both laughed out loud, and Ben fell in love a little bit more. He was so proud he could manage to get her relaxed and carefree, throwing her head back to laugh and squinting her eyes. Once, in a rapture of laugh, she put her hand on his thigh and he almost fainted of emotion.

•·················•·················•

They didn’t want the night to end, so went to buy one more beer and walked through the city, the long way round to her building, still chatting, telling stories about their childhood and teens. Every time they passed some group of guys or someone Ben thought was dangerous, he would throw an arm around her shoulders to protect her and then slide it off. Until one time he did and never retired it, and she walked more close to him. He was so warm, solid beside her; at this moment she wanted to plug herself in him and disappear, fully enjoying the wonderful warmth of him.

 “You’re silent, everything all right?” He sounded worried, and she kept her head down.

 “I’m fine, just walking beside you.”

 “You’re as stiff as a plank, sweetheart. What’s happening?”

 “The next block is my home, let’s talk there.” She couldn’t bring him upstairs because her friends were in the flat, but could sit in the stairs of the front. “Look, I want to be direct with you, because you’re a good guy and I really like you.”

She hated how her hands started to shake, her whole body was trembling and not because of the chill night. She tried to even her breathing; Ben’s leg started to bounce.

 “We are balls of anxiety.” She joked and he chuckled, trying to calm him too. “I’m not the dating type, Ben. I never do this because I’m a mess of a person. I’m not even a good friend.”

 “Yes you are.” He retorted firmly.

 “Stop being the flirty himbo you are and listen to me.”

 “The what!?” He faced her with a surprised smile.

 “Flirty himbo.” She repeated and explained “I’m trying to make a serious argument here and you’re canting your hips with that playful smile.”

 “But I’m sitting!” He laughed and it was really difficult not to join him. “And you are a good friend! I’m being serious. You are a good friend and have good friends too. You are easy to be with, you’re warm, radiate a kind energy; always so helpful with others, trying to bring happiness to everyone around you. Even if you are in pain, your friends didn’t want to tell me but I noticed.”

She tried to get a grip of the tears in her eyes, but was a lost cause.

 “Thank you, Benny…” she whispered and sniffed. “But it’s hard to be with me: I have a lot of insecurities, with my mind, my spirit, don’t get me started on my body; I have anxiety and I’m depressed. I tend to disappear for weeks, it’s extremely rare for me to text first and I can’t get a conversation going for the life of me. Most of the time.” Explained herself because she saw his movements of protest. “And,” she put a hand in his chest to keep him quiet and dared to look at him in the eyes, “you’re the most handsome, incredibly hot and most kindhearted guy I have ever met. I–I couldn’t bear to know I have made you suffer or mad.”

They sat in silence, facing the street, barely touching one another. She wanted to throw herself in the middle of the street, wanted to run upstairs and hid in her bed till next week. Every person that complimented her for being “too mature for her age” should be burned in Hell. Emotionally she was a child, didn’t know how to react, what to do–

 “Hey…” He called softly and saw, by the corner of her eye, how he approached slowly and hugged her shoulders. “Are you scared?”

She leaned in his embrace and confessed, “Scared as hell.”

 “I will respect your decision, but lemme tell you I like you too, a lot. If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want us to be friends, I’ll be your friend. If you want time, I’ll give you all my watches.” She giggled and relaxed between his arms. Ben kissed her forehead, winning a gasp and she lifted her face to look at him in the eyes again. “I understand you and your illness, I truly do. I will be honored to be by your side and going at your pace, to comfort you whenever you need it.”

Her heart grew a few inches of love, her breath faltered and she looked at her hands –that were resting in his thigh, reuniting the courage to ask “Would you like to kiss me?”

 “I’d love to.”

#ben miller x reader #benny miller #ben miller x you #benny miller x you #ben miller #triple frontier #triple frontier imagine

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Superpower

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~4,300

Summary: Bucky has an infatuation with The Incredibles that he might be taking too far. It takes some stern words from you to help him figure that out.

Warnings: A bit of angst, but also fluff, too

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and showing so much love to my last fic so much! I hope you all enjoy this one just as much. I like to write based off of little pieces of inspiration, so this time it was a tweet from Dr. Thema on Twitter and a response by Ashley C. Ford. I bolded both quotes since the quote-block format I usually use doesn’t fit right here!

...

“Super-strength is a superpower.”

“I never said it wasn’t. I was saying that you don’t have it.”

Bucky scoffs and folds his arms across his broad chest. In this moment it was hard to tell if he was puffing it out on purpose or if he had been putting in extra reps in the gym. Probably both, you decide. “Please, (Y/N), we just watched The Incredibles. We both know that I am literally Mr. Incredible.”

You couldn’t stifle your laugh. Two months ago, Bucky decided to catch up on all the movies he missed over the past seventy years. It took years to finally understand the internet, modern technology, and Wi-Fi (to be fair, you still aren’t exactly sure how that last one works, but you got the point across just fine). While Bucky had seen the basic movies: classic, old-timey movies, it was time to focus on the more enjoyable movies: kid movies. You watched Wall-E, making sure to explain the implications of that movie, Up, obviously you both cried, and Lilo & Stitch, an underrated classic.

Last night, in preparation for this mission, you’d insisted in watching The Incredibles. You thought it would hype him up for the tropical mission Steve was bringing him (and Sam) along on. And boy oh boy you were spot on. It had been twelve hours of nonstop Incredibles talk.

The night before, you two were snuggled up on the couch, mountains of blankets on top of you, bowls of popcorn and candy littered around you. Bucky’s arm slid around your back and you used the crook of his shoulder as a pillow. “What is going on here,” Bucky muttered to himself, squinting at the screen as the beginning of the movie started, Mr. Incredible fumbling around with his microphone.

You grinned in anticipation, wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling yourself closer to him. “Isn’t it so cute?” You said into his chest.

Bucky shoves his mouth full of popcorn, laughing loudly at Frozen talking about babes and Mr. Incredible ranting about the world in jeopardy. You didn’t think that he’d be laughing this much already (you know it’s a cinematic masterpiece, but still); maybe this movie was just that relatable. Although you were just a desk jockey in the Avengers tower, you knew they were always off saving the world and sacrificing themselves to do so.

It was safe to say that Bucky clearly enjoyed the movie – it just felt so realistic to him. The next morning, he spent breakfast rambling on about the fact that Syndrome literally lived in a volcano; how could Mr. Incredible not know? Tony brought up the point that Hydra set up camp in the exact opposite climate, so Bucky should cut the animators some slack. Bucky was not having it. “Aren’t you technically Edna Mode?” He rhetorically asked Tony with a deadpan stare.

Tony scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to feign hurt, before returning the glare to Bucky. “Remind me to talk to you about your hobo suit later.” With that, he left the kitchen, strutting down the hall, followed with him yelling: “no capes!” as Thor walked past him, the god raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Later that night, Bucky had to leave for a mission. You’d spent the afternoon in Bucky’s bed with each other, holding one another close; and where you tried to have some light pillowtalk, it ended up being about The Incredibles II after he got back. The two of you ended up in the shower to wash off the afternoon workout. While you were wrapped up in a robe, brushing your post-shower hair in the mirror, Bucky popped up behind you with just a towel around his waist. “Honey, have you seen my super-suit?” You could only roll your eyes and smile in response.

…

“Well if you’re Mr. Incredible, then I’m Mrs. Incredible.” You took a step closer to him, closing the space between you such that your chests are touching.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, dangerously close to the hem of your jeans. “I know,” he smiled, leaning forward to give you a kiss. “Those moves earlier? You’re even more flexible than her.”

“Cut it out, lovebirds,” Sam interrupted, his tone playful. “We don’t need a live show.”

Bucky drops his hands and leads you towards the hangar to where the jet was waiting. “All I’m saying is that I could definitely lift one of those train cars like he does. I could do more than one – ” he cuts himself off, stopping in his tracks. “(Y/N), I could juggle them.”

“Sure,” you hum, hooking your arm around his back and leaning into his side. “Although, when you think about it, you might be more of a cyborg than Mr. Incredibles, y’know?”

He groans, dropping his head and shutting his eyes. “But I don’t wanna be a cyborg.”

“We’ll watch Teen Titans then see how you feel.”

“Teen what?” He turned to stare blankly at you.

“Forget it, I’ll show you when you get back.” You smiled warmly up at him before he pulled you into a bear hug.

He kissed the top of your head and murmured “I love you” before pulling away.

“Love you, too, baby,” you responded softly. You sent him away with Steve and Sam, telling all of them to be safe before watching the jet take off.

With a sigh, you turned on your heel, seeing yourself out of the compound, heading back to your apartment. The streets of New York were busy despite the cold weather outside. Early November had its benefits: the streets were lined with orange, red, and brown as the trees were ready to shed their summer colors; but it also had its drawbacks: the streets were cold, and you could see your breath outside. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, pulling the collar closer around your exposed neck. If Bucky were here you already know he would’ve wrapped you up in his own coat to keep you warm, he would’ve held your hands in his own warm ones and nuzzled his nose against your own red nose. He was actually very sappy, when it came down to it. He was a sucker for you – constantly having to have his hands on you, make sure you were always warm.

You finished the thirty-minute walk to your apartment, taking your time to appreciate the fall scenery around you, glancing at all the Thanksgiving-soon-to-be-Christmas window displays, and enjoying the pumpkin scents around every corner. Pushing your door open, you were met with the warm heat and smell of the chrysanthemums Bucky had given you earlier that week. You tossed your keys to the side, shrugged your jacket off, and made a big mugful of hot chocolate.

You plopped down by the window and leaned your head on the glass, letting the steam from your drink warm your cheeks. You’d wondered in that moment where Bucky would be going exactly. He did mention it would be a tropical/forest vibe; the only thing you knew about that is that it’d be humid. Although you knew of Bucky’s disdain for cold, he wasn’t much of a fan of heat, either. He was much more of an autumn guy. You made a mental note to go for a walk through Central Park with him when he gets back.

He’d been gone for six days. Today was Thursday and you’d been stuck at your desk all morning. It hurt a little bit to have to walk to the Avenger’s Tower everyday without Bucky meeting you at the door (or Bucky walking with you to work, having spent the night before at your place) but you had to make do – paperwork needed to be completed.

Your eyes were aching from staring at your computer screen and your hand was cramping from all the scribbling you’ve been doing all day. The alternative was a coffee break in the café on the first floor – and you know what? Anything sounded better than work at the moment. You pop a post-it note on the door telling anyone looking for you that you’ll be back in ten. You make it to the elevator and straighten out your skirt as you stare at yourself in the reflection of the doors. Skirt a little wrinkled – nothing you can’t fix quickly in the elevator – button up shirt tucked in smartly, heels that made your feet ache, reading glasses that usually sit perched on your nose now shifted to sit on the top of your head, keeping your hair away from your face.

Despite how put-together you may look, you were exhausted and quite frankly, defeated. Not only was work kicking your ass lately but combined with the fact that Bucky was gone, and you hadn’t heard from him nearly wrecked you. Normally, he’d not take more than a day or two to reach out: a call or text simply to say he’s okay. You had to tell yourself that there was terrible reception wherever he was. That was going well for you, until you ran into Wanda one day on the elevator.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she greeted kindly, smiling wide as you entered the elevator next to her.

“Hi, Wanda, how have you been?” You responded. You’ve hung out with the Avengers at times. Usually your time with Bucky consisted of just the two of you, but sometimes you got the go-ahead to join their events and movie nights. Everyone welcomed you with open arms because not only was your personality so winning, but also you were the girl that brought Bucky out of his shell – in Sam’s words: “you made him sociable.”

“Good! It’s been busy around the complex, I’m sure you know already.” You’re not sure if she’s saying that because she’s aware of the pile of paperwork you’ve been working on for ages or if she can feel exhaustion radiating off your body.

“Yeah, you guys have given me a whole lot of paperwork,” you say, trying to give a hearty chuckle before awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

She nods and hums in response. “The boys have been busy,” she responds casually.

You bite your lip before taking a deep breath and nodding in affirmation. “I haven’t heard from Bucky lately, so I’d imagine so.”

She shrugs – again so casually. Can she not feel the fact you’re about to freak out right now? “Actually, nobody’s heard from any of them.” How did she just end that sentence like that? Nobody’s heard from them. Not with any of this trillion-dollar equipment – it can’t connect them one continent away? She senses your panic; there’s a change in your breathing and you eyes go wide, staring now directly at the floor. “(Y/N), no. I mean – they’re fine. Just because they haven’t said anything doesn’t mean – ”

The elevator dings and opens to your floor. You politely hold up your hand to her and smile. “I get what you’re saying, Wanda. Thanks for keeping me updated.” You shuffle out the door, calling out for her to have a good day.

You make it back to your office and don’t even try to stifle your loud sigh as you plop into your chair. Fuck.

…

So, it was sufficed to say you hadn’t slept very well since that interaction. It’s been three nights since she’s told you they were basically M.I.A.; you spent your nights rolling around in bed, holding his pillow to your chest, constantly checking your phone for any kind of notification from Bucky. Without hearing from him, you didn’t know how long he’d be gone; without hearing from him, you didn’t know if he was even okay. Screw your sleeping schedule, you just needed to make sure he was even alive.

You make your way back to your office, taking a sip of the piping hot coffee and as you swing the corner you hit a brick wall.

And there was a brick wall standing in the middle of the hallway.

You gaze up at the man, blue eyes staring directly into your own. He’s breathing a little fast, especially for someone who had been standing in front of your office door, staring at the post-it note for quite some time. His hands were shoved in his pockets, shoulders a little hunched – he was nervous; something was wrong.

Very wrong.

It wasn’t even until his hand reached out to you, stopping in mid-air in front of your shirt before you noticed the coffee that spilt down the front of your shirt. It was warm, sure, but your racing heart took precedence over the splash of liquid that coated your black shirt. “Sorry, (Y/N), I – ”

“It’s fine. When did you get back?” You don’t care about the coffee; you barely even felt it. You shifted the weight between your feet, squeezing the coffee cup in your hand. Why were you so nervous? There was so much tension in the air. Just staring at him as he waited patiently for you to return from your coffee run. Neither of you knowing what to say. Its like you were strangers.

He runs a hand through his hair, huffing out a deep breath. He was actually still in uniform; you didn’t notice until you asked that question. His face was grimy, slick with sweat and remnants of mud and maybe even some flecks of blood if you squint. He then scratched at the stubble gracing his chin. “Just now.” He still can’t breathe. How was he supposed to tell you? You were certainly going to kill him when you found out.

He didn’t know what to say. He was thinking about this the whole plane ride home, the whole walk to your office, the whole ten agonizingly long minutes he’d spent waiting outside your office. But now, looking into your curiously wide eyes, glazed over with concern – you were basically paralyzed in fear; if it weren’t for your incessant shifting. It was almost driving him crazy to look at someone who is about to jump out of their skin with fear, yet unsure of what move to make or what to say. “Where is he?”

And Steve swallowed hard. “He’s okay.” You stared straight into his soul. “Well, he’s – ”

“Steve.”

“He’s alive. He got shot. A couple times.” Each fragment that left his mouth was punctuated by the prompt shutting of his mouth. It was important to him to stop himself from saying too much. Your mouth actually dropped open. There was nothing left for you to say, but your jaw dropped. He reached out and took hold of your arms in his hands. “He’s alive,” he repeated, the words not resonating in your brain (and he could see that). “He’s in med-bay. (Y/N), he is fine.” He didn’t think he could be any clearer.

Nothing made sense. You felt as though you were asked to complete a 100-piece puzzle with only three-pieces. You were struggling to comprehend anything that came out of Steve’s mouth. Instead, you sharply turned on your heel. You were calm – this cannot be emphasized enough – you walked with your shoulders pulled back and gaze straight ahead; but you weren’t looking at anything, simply following your own muscle memory on your way to the med-bay.

Steve chased after you – he walked behind you, taking long strides as to not overtake you. He kept saying your name, telling you to calm down, but you already were. Except your heart was thumping out of your chest. You couldn’t even form any more questions for Steve. Obviously: “where was he shot” was a glaring question, “how close to death was he” is another; you can’t even put those words together right now.

You shove open the doors to med-bay, blatant disregard for the coffee still in your hand, splashing now-tepid liquid again on your shirt and sleeve. That’s when you see him: sprawled out on a cot that’s too small for him; his boots hung off the end of the bed, dry mud caked to the bottom of his heavy boots, flaking onto the floor. As soon as you’d shoved the door open, Steve following you in toe, Bucky’s head lifted towards you. He actually grinned.

You’d nearly fainted. His face was littered with cuts and scrapes, dirt around each wound scrubbed away by the doctor then coated in slick, clear antibiotic. His shirt was long gone, leaving him in his combat boots still riddled with weapons (visibly and concealed, you could only assume) and his dirty boots. His chest was completely bandaged; he was grateful you’d walked in after he’d already been covered because he knew that he’d be hearing an earful from you if you’d actually been able to see the damage. This way, you’d only be able to see the wounds to change the dressing probably hours from now. His body would be nearly healed.

“James.” It was stern. You weren’t mad, per say; you couldn’t be mad – you were glad he was even alive. You didn’t know why your tone was so harsh; you were pissed that he was shot, probably due to some heroic act of saving one of his teammates, or maybe he was just being careless? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to find out – they’d never tell you which it was, anyway.

“Hey, doll,” he says casually, already trying to schmooze his way back on your good side.

“James.” This time you breathed his name, finally getting close enough to put your hands on his chest – fingertips ghosting off the edge of the gauze, where the bandage met his collarbone. He took both your hands in his, pulling them together and placing them tenderly over his heart. There must have been six layers of gauze over him – not a speck of dirt or blood poking through.

“Baby, look at me,” he whispered. You flicked your eyes up to his worried ones. His eyebrows were drawn together, mouth pressed into a firm line. “I’m fine.”

“James,” you sobbed, tears that were once held at bay now falling freely down your cheeks and falling onto his pants. You choked back any more words, nodding furiously as you found it hard to breath. He pulled your arms and yanked you to the bed and now you were sitting beside him, his hands now cupping the back of your neck, cradling your head against where his neck meets his collarbone. He cooed softly into your hair, whispering sweet nothings as he rubbed your back up and down.

“I’m okay,” he murmured. And all you could do was nod against his skin, crying more and more as he pressed each kiss onto your head.

It was probably ten minutes of crying before you calmed down, now laying against him in silence, your eyes shut resting against his shoulder. “You know,” he whispered, pulling you from silence. “I always love seeing you in your work clothes. All smart and sexy.” You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, snuggling further into him. “But you smell like coffee.”

…

Bucky was barred from missions for three months. And while he was physically healed within a week and a half, Steve wasn’t so sure about his mental state – and you weren’t so sure either. Actually, it had been a more than pleasant three months. He started off doing physical therapy once a day, then adding in workouts and phasing out the therapy. This occupied maybe four hours per day. That meant that the rest of his free time he spent in your office, at your apartment, and in your bed.

That would be fine with you if you could confidently say that Bucky was one hundred percent okay.

Most of the time, he’d spend all day next to you being a total chatterbox – actually, he any willing conversation he had would be about the book you were reading, that one episode of friends the two of you watched last night, rambling on remodels of his place and if he should paint his dresser. It was the unwilling conversations that he had that concerned you.

The words he’d mumble to himself as he rolled around in your bed having a nightmare. Every time, you’d spend five minutes trying to wake him up. At first you started out by nudging him awake, it developed to the state that now you had to fully grab his arm and shake him wildly to get him up. You’d sit there, pulling your hands through his hair, whispering sweet nothings until he calmed down. Every time, you’d ask him if he wanted to talk about it; he’d say now. You then asked him to tell you – you pleaded for him to let you into that side of his life. You begged to understand and cried for him – with him.

It was no different tonight.

If he wouldn’t talk, then you would. “Baby, you can’t keep doing this.” He sat up in bed, sheets twisted around his legs, leaning over with his back pressed into the iron-rung headboard. It was cool against his hot skin – the only thing making it semibearable as the bars pressed into the tight muscles in his back. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s not good for you.”

He didn’t say anything. He stared straight in front of him, his hands clasped over one another on his lap. You held one of his forearms in both hands, dragging your fingers in light patterns softly over his skin. You continue pleading with him: “you can tell me anything. Please, I hope you understand that.”

With this, he peers up at you with sorrow filled eyes. You can barely see them in the dark. “I know I can. It’s not a big deal, though. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You drop his arm in frustration, instead bringing your hands up to your hair and gripping it tightly, feeling like pulling your hair out might be a better option than bringing this conversation where it needs to go. “You have these nightmares every night, James. It’s only getting worse. I can tell that you’re hurting, and it hurts me to see you like that. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, I can see that somethings wrong.”

He shrugs. “I can take it. Look, I’m sorry if I keep waking you up. I won’t stay over anymore.” He turns his head sheepishly towards his lap again, shoulders hunching forward. You know he thinks it’s a joke; he’s putting on an act. He wants you to curl up to his side, beg him to stay, make-out, have sex to take his mind off it, and fall asleep peacefully. You know because you’ve done it before. Multiple times.

God, he can be so annoying. “James.” Your stern tone had returned, you dropped your hands out of your hair and let them fall heavily on your lap. “A history of trauma can give you a high tolerance for emotional pain. Just because you can take it doesn’t mean you have to.”

He wasn’t sure what to do in that moment. There was nothing to say – nothing he could say. There wasn’t anything he could follow that up with; not a joke, not a sound, not even an intelligent sentence. He instead stared down at his hands, not even moving a muscle, not even to blink.

You were calm once again. You knew that your words had finally gotten through to him. Your relationship was strong: you’d built an emotional connection such that you two could be in the middle of the most serious discussions and still be able to crack a joke. But the both of you knew this wasn’t the time. That’s why he still hadn’t said anything: he didn’t have a smartass response, nor a comment he could make to get out of this one.

“Suffering is not a superpower.”

And with those final words, Bucky broke, his face contorting in pain, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling into an open frown. His shoulders shook slowly as he struggled to breath, holding his face in his hands. You couldn’t sit idly by, so you grabbed his hands and swung a leg over him, sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist so he had something to hold on to; his arms wrapped tighter around you as his head dropped to the front of your chest, quietly sobbing into your shirt. You secured your arms around him, looping them over his shoulders and around his neck.

You sat there absorbing his tears, not saying a word, not even whispering a small “shh.” It was about time he let his emotions out and you weren’t about to cut him off now. You’d spent every waking moment with him (save for his workouts and physical therapy) so you knew how long this emotional release had been building up inside of him. Every once and a while everyone needs a good cry – Bucky hadn’t had one in years.

You didn’t know how long the two of you sat there. His sobs turned into quiet sniffles turned into calm, steady breathing. You knew this conversation was far from over. He needed therapy, or at the least needed to vent to you more often. Whatever solution you two would come up with could wait until the morning. Right now, he needed rest, he needed tranquility.

You didn’t know if he was asleep, and hell, you, yourself, were almost asleep. It wasn’t until he broke the silence when you got your answer. “Can we watch The Incredibles II?”

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