#i know she loves those bright/pastel sweaters

[sinclairstarz]

byler nation, today i give you lesbyler

#I LOVE THEM #doodle while i work on this fuckass project #i imagine will has almost like a molly ringwald in pretty in pink type haircut #i know she loves those bright/pastel sweaters #stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #lesbyler #fem!byler #genderswap #fanart #my art #harperdoodles #byler fanart

[fangirlandtheories]

I have worked at Starbucks for over 2 years now and I make the chalkboard signs for my store. While searching for inspiration on Pinterest, I discovered that someone made a Stranger Things chalkboard designating different drinks to different characters. While the artwork was great, the drinks just didn't match according to my opinion so I wanted to make my own. Without further ado, a baristas guide to Stranger Things drinks:

- Steve Harrington: We're starting off with one of the more simple to order drinks. There's no mods or alternatives, just a pure, sweet drink. Steve is a Caramel Ribbon Crunch. He's layered and multifaceted the same way the drink has separate layers. He's sweet, sometimes too sweet for his own good, but he's cool as ice. Served drizzled and well topped (if you know what I mean 😉)

-Eddie Munson: My best friend Maya works with me and introduced me to this drink and I can't think of anything better for Eddie. You get a cup of lemonade, add some ice, pour a blonde espresso shot on top, and voila: The Cigarette Butt. It's got a sweetish smokey flavor, a little sour, a little weird. People either love it or hate it without giving it a try.

-Nancy Wheeler: I wanted to do something sensible for Nancy but something that would also be strong for a badass like Nancy. We often say that Iced Americanos are the hot girl drink so I knew I wanted it to be and Iced Americano. As for the extras, I wanted it to be blonde ristretto. Blonde Ristretto shots are the BEST kinda shots so it fits one of the best characters. As for cream: Almond Milk. She's giving lactose intolerant but in a "I prefer almond milk to soy milk" kinda way. She's not pretentious about it, but maybe a little.

-Robin Buckley: I was going back and forth with Robin. I had multiple ideas but narrowed it down to two. Number 1. Iced Vanilla Matcha with coconut milk OR Number 2. An Iced Chai with brown sugar syrup and oat milk. Either way, both scream Queer and Quirky. I also get a sort of library soft vibe from her. I'm picturing tans and old books, soft pastels, those kinda things. Arguably that's more a Nancy vibe as well but Robin is light academia and Nancy is dark.

- Jonathan Byers: This is a man that listens to good music and spends his day taking photographs and getting high. He's a sweater and slacks, a wallflower, the quiet calm in a chaotic storm. He's a London Fog, specifically with soy milk. Underappreciated and sometimes forgotten, this is a true pillar in every way. Teas have always been there and always will be, much like the steady reliability of Jonathan. The flavors are gentle and when paired with the vanilla it creates something complex and delightful.

- Argyle: This brochacho does NOT need coffee. He's bright and colorful, slightly overwhelming at times, but full of zest. When thinking of him, I wanted to choose the brightest, most colorful drink I could. He's a Mango Dragonfruit Lemonade with peach juice and pineapple pieces. This drink is the Starbucks ocean of flavor, but the pineapple comes freeze dried in a bag. Remember: Try before you deny.

- Hopper: I was going to leave this as just the Fruity Six, but I can't resist. Hopper is the McDonald's Dad. Hopper is a cup of black coffee.

#stranger things #my theories #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #Jim Hopper #stranger things 4 #st s4 #steddie #ronance #starbucks barista #starbucks #Barista #barista musing #coffee

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Hi! congrats on the anniversary 🫶

For the fanfic request: Ichihime + second date ( first kiss ) 🍓🍞

As the Rain Falls

Rating: K/General with mild themes

Setting: little over a month after We do Knot Always Love You

Synopsis: Ichigo and Orihime go on their second date, both anxious and excited about their new relationship, but Ichigo has things on his mind he can’t shake off.

AN: First up, a sincere apology for how late this is!!! >_< I must admit, I kept getting writer’s block with this one, but I still wanted to persevere with it and try to write for different characters and a different ship.

At the same time however, I'll admit I’m nervous about this. I've never written a fic where Ichigo and Orihime are the main characters, and I know that they'll be written out of character as a result. And it's me, so this is probably more angsty than you wanted ^^;

I tried, and hopefully it makes for an entertaining read.

Hope you enjoy this one!

_______________________________

Ichigo tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and bounces his knee as he looks around AB Cookies.

Arisa, who is currently at the counter, told him Orihime was getting changed and should be out soon. It had been only two minutes since then, but why did it feel like longer?

He sits in the corner at one of the few indoor tables, mostly ignored by the customers coming and going from the store. All around him, the room is brightly coloured in pastel hues and styled in a way that makes it appear homely and cute. If not for Orihime, he wouldn’t normally come to a place like this.

When another minute passes, he thinks to pull out one of his textbooks and study while he waits. He only gets as far as frowning at his backpack. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like this was their first date – that’d happened just over four weeks ago – so where is this anxious, fluttery energy coming from?

He blinks at hearing Orihime’s voice drift from the back. He straightens when she emerges from the doorway behind the rows of breads. She’s dressed in a bright sweater and skirt, and her boots clack on tiles then the wooden floors when she lifts the counter top and steps out to his side. She smiles widely when she glances at him, and he can’t help but smile back in return – she’s one of the few people who has that affect on him. 

She only gives him her full attention after she says goodbye to Arisa, who in turn thanks her for her work. He stands up, shouldering his backpack as she approaches.

“Kurosaki-kun,” she greets. “Sorry for you keeping you waiting.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t take that long,” he says. He tips his head towards the exit. “You wanna get going?”

They end up in the main street of Karakura Town, walking towards the shopping district. Cars rush by and people crowd the streets. Above them is a mostly blue sky, but clouds linger.

“How was your day?” Orihime asks.

Ichigo shrugs one shoulder. “Nothing much. Just went to lectures mostly.”

“Which ones were they for?”

“English studies. What about you? Anything happen today?”

“A lot, actually. I told Ari -- Oh, wait!” She comes to a stop and reaches into her bag. “Are you hungry?”

Before he can even respond, she pulls out a bread bun and breaks it into halves. “It’s got red bean paste and strawberry in it,” she says as she offers one half to him. “It’s spares from the batches I made this morning, and I thought, since you were up early…”

He smirks fondly as he takes it from her. It’s so typical of her to think of something like this. “Thanks, I think I need this.”

She practically glows, and he has to bite into the bun to not embarrass himself with a stupid grin and chuckle. He hates how this reminds him of the way his father acted around his mother. He hopes to never be like that with Orihime, but even so, there are those moments where she gets to him, where her happiness and excitement become almost infectious.

“Is it good?” she asks.

He nods, mouth full, and it only makes her beam wider. He bites harder into the bun the next time as heat rises up his neck.

“So, I made that new donut for Arisa-san and Ichinose-kun,” she says.

“Oh, the one with seaweed, strawberry, and cashews?” he asks, trying to keep the wariness out of his voice; these new recipes she comes up with always mean a lot to her, even if he can’t comprehend them.

“Yes! Although I had to change it. I think I brought them around to it after create one without the cashews, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe peanuts might work better.

"I-Is that so?"

"I just think it needs a salty or nutty element! It still tastes good with jut the seaweed and strawberry though. They’re thinking about putting it in the front.”

Despite his reservations, he can’t help but he proud of her and his smile returns. “That’s great, Inoue.”

Something must show in his expression, because a faint blush colours her cheeks. “A-Anyway, after that I was speaking with Arisa-san…”

They keep walking down the street as Orihime talks and occasionally nibbles on her half of the bun. He listens to her, and as she carries on about her work – about the small things like finding a gacha trinket on the ground on her way to work, and bigger things like a corporate event who requested catering from the bakery – they wonder from the streets to a nearby park.

For not the first time, he thinks about how peaceful its' become. He still fights Hollows, but isn't as often as it used to be. There’s no looming threat over them, nothing to stop them from being by each others’ side. It’s why, along with seeing how happy Renji and Rukia were, and the former’s encouragement, he finally decided to ask Orihime out.

Their first date had been clumsy in the first hour. He’d planned dinner and a movie, a typical date night according to Keigo and Tatsuki. After Ichigo arrived late and Orihime got flustered trying to reassure him it was fine, the air had been awkward around them. Just the week before he’d confessed to her, and she did the same, and now it’s apparent their feelings for each other were more than either of them thought. Gradually, after they'd finished their dinner and they left to go see the movie, things eased.

Perhaps that where these fluttery nerves came from, left over from their last date. He'd thought he'd be more relaxed consider today’s date was even simpler: a walk in the park, then find a restaurant for a late lunch. It’d been Orihime’s idea, claiming she didn’t need to do anything fancy or complicated with him. He can’t help but suspect she had him in mind though, knowing he’d be tired from his studies and late nights of fighting Hollows and performing konsos on a wondering Souls.

Yes, he thinks as he finishes off his half of the bun, he’s grateful for this peace.

However, like how Zangetsu’s voice had haunted him in the months after the Arrancar’s invaded Karakura Town, there’s a part of him that lingers in the back of his mind, skeptical. It makes him notice the crowds all around them. Parents watching their children run and play around the park. Couples occupying benches or walking past them in their own worlds. A group of teens in school uniforms hunched over a manga magazine, laughing at something they’ve read. Everyone here had been under threat just over three years ago, and they hadn’t even known it. He’d defeated Yhwach, and yet he’s still haunted by ‘what-ifs’. What if he hadn’t defeated him? What if another threat lurks right beneath them, one that hasn’t been seen yet?

“Kurosaki-kun?”

Ichigo blinks out of his reverie. “Ah, sorry.”

Orihime blinks up him in concern, and had brought them to a stop at the park’s fountain. “Is something wrong?”

He thinks to hold it back in, to do what he always did and bottle it up. He’d stew on it, but it would pass or continue to linger somewhere within him, as everything else had. But what had helped him get over it? Rukia had, and Chad, and Uryu, and Renji, and Orihime. He should be able to tell her anything, especially now that they’re going out.

He doesn’t want his mood to bring the date down, and he knows if he says it’s nothing, she’ll drop it, not wanting to pry further. Even so, he knows she’ll worry about whatever is bothering him. He can’t do that to her.

He’s not sure where to start, but he opens to his mouth to say something.

And then there’s a plop on his head.

____________________________________________

Orihime had imagined scenarios like this many times. Ichigo would grab her hand and they’d rush down the street, the rain falling over them as their feet splashed through puddles. Somehow, the clouds would be thin enough that the sun would peak through, making colours more vibrant beneath the glittering rain. At some point, in slow motion, Ichigo would look over his shoulder at her, hair somehow unaffected by the rain and haloed in a lighter shade of orange. smiling confidently, and saying something heroic or sweet.

And right now, Ichigo turns his head over his shoulder, cringing with his bangs plastered to his forehead, panting for air, and trying to blink the rain from his eyes. “You okay?”

She too has to get rid of the drop falling around her eyes to see him, wiping them and a strand hair stuck to the side of her face away with the heel of her palm. “Y-Yes! But where are we going?”

The rain comes down in torrents, drenching them in less than a minute. Around them, everyone is rushing out of the park and back to the shops that line the streets. She considers asking if they can head back to AB Cookie, but considering how soaked they are, she doesn’t want to cause any trouble for the staff in cleaning up after them; they’d probably make puddles in the middle of the store.

They run across a zebra crossing, and then next thing she knows, Ichigo brings her under the awning of a closed up shop. They almost hit the shutter door, stumbling under the shelter.

They take a moment to catch their breaths, with Ichigo hunched over and Orihime leaning against the shop’s garage door.

“This rain came out of nowhere!” she says. “The forecast was sunny. Guess I should’ve known better when I saw the clouds.”

Ichigo rises from his hunch. “You can’t predict the weather, Inoue.” He half teases and half reassures her, and she’s grateful for it.

“It’s still a shame we can’t go to the park now,” she says.

“We'll go another time. There's other stuff we can do. Unless you'd rather head home."

"Maybe we should wait until the rain stops...or there's less of it."

He only hums in acknowledgement.

It’s only then she realizes he still hasn’t let go of her hand, and she fears looking down at their joined hands and drawing attention to it will make him want to pull away. She discovered very quickly he got embarrassed by PDA – whether it was between them or with other couples. It’s oddly cute to her, and she herself still wasn’t sure if she likes it either. Holding hands like this, though, is something she’s always wanted.

The skin of his palm and fingers is rough from callouses, but the back side is softer than she expected. And it’s warm despite the rain.

Without meaning to, she squeezes his hand, and he looks down. Instead of pulling away, he tilts his head to the sky, almost shyly. She withholds a bewildered giggle. He can still surprise her, it seems.

It’s a minute later when the rain lessens.

“It’s not as bad now,” she says.

“Yeah…” He’s not fully there, his gaze turned up at the clouds. The rain affects him in a way she doesn’t fully understand yet. In the years since she first met him, whatever grips has gradually faded from what it used to be.

“We can probably head…” she starts, but trails off.

Now what? They can’t go to the park, and they can’t go out to lunch with their clothes so drenched. Maybe they should call it a day, and try again for next week sometime. But as Orihime eyes Ichigo, seeing the slight clench in his jaw and the way his eyes narrow at the sky, she knows she can’t leave him alone.

“Um…”

At her nervous fidgeting, he blinks, coming out of his daze, and looks to her. “What is it?”

“We can, um…w-we can head back to my place. It’s close by, so…”

Orihime tries and fails to push the heat rising to her face. Yes, Ichigo has been to her place many times before, but not since they started dating. Who knows what could happen? She tries to dismiss the sparkling fantasies that threaten to take over her mind.

“If you’re okay with that," he says, "just until the rain stops.”

“Of course!”

“Well, then, thanks.” He gentle pulls on her hand. “We should get going.”

He begins to lead her back out into the rain again.

“Actually…”

“Hm?”

At his raised brows, Orihime quickly bows her head. “Ah, yes, sorry! I uh, just…actually, nevermind!”

“Hey, come on. What is it?”

Orihime drops her rueful smile with a defeated chuckle. “It’s just that, after our date, I planned to go to the convenience store to pick up a few things. With this rain though, it’s probably better that we just head back.”

“We can still stop along the way. You’ll need help carrying things, right?”

She’d never point it out, but there were times she senses an eagerness from him, one he’d keep reserved under many layers. It’s another endearing quality she secretly loved about him. With a nod, she says, “Then, if it’s not too much trouble….”

He gives her a small smile. “It isn't, Inoue.”

She has to turn away as her heart skips a beat.

They make a quick dash to the convenience store that’s a few minutes from her home. She stops under the entrance’s awning and grabs the end of her skirt to wring some of the rain water out. She barely hears Ichigo’s quiet chuckle over the rain. “Don’t think it’ll make much of a difference.”

“Well, we might end up making puddles in there,” she reasons.

“It’ll be fine, we’re not staying long, right?”

As soon as they enter the convince store, Orihime bows apologetically to the cashier. Ichigo just sniffs, trying to cover up another chuckle. She’s quick to go the aisles for milk and despite the slight indignation rising in her, Orihime is glad to see faint amusement in Ichigo's expression.

She’d also imagined a scenario like this, albeit without them being wet and cold. Somehow, though, she liked how this was turning out instead. Maybe it’s knowing Ichigo is following her as she went down the aisles, his footsteps always behind her or at her side. Maybe it’s the fact that when she picks up a cup of noodles, he asks what she’ll make with it, and even as she lists off all the ingredients that sound odd to put with it, he offers weary encouragement. Maybe it’s discovering he likes a particular brand of rice crackers when she goes to pick up her usual one, and explaining to him why she prefers this one over the others. They’re small, mundane things, but every little part of it is something she can say she’s experienced with him now.

Everything comes to a halt when they get to the freezers. Orihime almost frowns when she has to crane her neck to see the milk she normally buys. “They must have moved everything  around, these never used to be so high up.”

She opens the fridge door and stands on her tippy toes.

She stops when Ichigo steps up behind her and reaches his hand into the freezer. “I’ll get it.”

Her back is almost pressed against his chest, and as she turns to look at him, she’s struck once again by how tall he is. From this angle she can admire the strong line of his jaw, and watches a raindrop roll off it and hit the collar of the shirt beneath his jacket. Once he hands her the milk, she snaps out of it. “Ah, thank you!”

However, neither of them moves. Orihime stares up at him, and he stares back. Her heart flutters at the hint of softness in his gaze. It’s nothing like her fantasies, where there’s sparkles and flowers magically appearing around them. She swallows, unsure if she’s bold enough to do what she’d always wanted to ever since he confessed to her.

Before she can think any further, Ichigo clears his throat and abruptly turns away. “Sorry, I, uh…”

Orihime shakes her head and takes the bottle of milk from him. “Ah, i-it’s fine! I, um…hey, look, there’s my favourite icecream! I should grab a tub while I’m here!”

She quick to move away, and she’s certain the heat colouring her face will dry her scalp in no time.

Several minutes later, she pays for the milk, a tub of biscuit and tea flavored ice-cream, three cups of noodles, two ramen kits, and a packet of rice crackers.

When they step back out, he holds out his hand. “I can carry it.”

“There’s no need.” When his hand doesn’t drop, she takes out the milk. “If you’re sure.”

__________________________

Whenever Ichigo enters Orihime’s house, he’d find his gaze wondering over to Sora’s photo. It happens not long after he takes his shoes off and he steps into the main room, and today is no exception as he removed his jacket and hangs it on a free hook; it drips over his shoes. He only looks away when Orihime puts the shopping bag on the kitchen counter.

She puts away the ice-cream, and it prompts him to hand her the milk again. “This too.”

She comes over to him, takes the bottle, and as he makes to step into the main area, she holds up her hand.

“Hold on a second,” she says before turning and putting the milk in fridge.

He doesn’t move beyond the tiny foyer, waiting for her after she dashes off to the bathroom. She comes out with two towels and holds one out to him. “It’s not much, but maybe for your hair?”

“You didn’t have to,” he says. But the it occurs to him he’d probably drip all over her floorboards. “You sure you’re okay with me coming in?”

There’s a pause, and a faint blush rushes up in her face. “O-Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Think I’m going to make everything damp,” he says while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! It’ll dry eventually.” She lifts the other towel. “If you’re worried, you can always put this over the cushion at the kotatsu.”

He normally wouldn’t care, but he takes both towels from her. “Yeah, sure.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” she offers. “I’ll just go get changed and then make some tea. Or would you like hot cocoa? I got some a few days ago, I haven’t tried it yet.”

 “Tea is fine.”

She smiles with a nod before going to her bedroom.

He remains near his shoes, drying off his arms, face, and hair before going to kotatsu. After laying the second towel down over the cushion he sits. He continues patting down and drying his hair as he waits. He ignores the rain thrumming gently against the windows, and once again, his gaze wonders to Sora’s picture. A bowl of nashi pears lies on one side of the photo, and a recently lit incense stick on the other.

A part of him wishes he’d properly met her brother while he was still alive, so that Acidwire and the night he was brought to the Kurosaki Clinic weren’t the only memories he had of him. Compared to everything else, however, it feels like a distant memory, and it thankfully ended in a better outcome than others.

Orihime emerges from her room, now dressed in a new sweater and jeans, and a headband pushes her damp hair behind her shoulders. She hums while boiling the water and taking out the teapot. Watching her brings a sense of calm to him, and a relief that doesn’t surprise him as much as he thought.

It’s not the first time Ichigo wonders if everything they’ve been through has affected her. Does she still have bad dreams? How much had she told Tatsuki? Were there things she hadn’t told him yet? Would she ever tell him?

And perhaps that is what bothered him most. He, Orihime, and their friends had to live with those memories, and all of consequences that came with them as the world went on ignorant to what had almost happened.

He’d been almost ordinary once, going to school and getting into trouble with humans. At the time seeing the Souls always reminded him he was anything but normal, and since becoming a Shinigami, any chance of him being fully human had been dashed.

It had been his choice, one he didn’t truly regret despite everything that came after. He had been powerless to help others in need, to protect those he cared about, and Rukia had given him that chance on that fateful night.

But Orihime had been ordinary – or at least, more ordinary than him.

He didn’t know much about her parents, but of what little he did know, he knew they were the kind of people he would’ve kicked to the curb. And yet she had gone through that and was still able to smile, just as she had with everything that happened in Los Noches.

So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice her approach until she sets a mug down in front of him.

“Here,” she says. “It’s just black tea, I ran out of green. Didn’t think to get it while I was at the convenience store, silly me.”

He manages a faint smile. “It’s fine, thanks.”

She settles down to right, wrapping her hands around her own mug. After a moment, she says, “Before…there was something you were going to say. Do you still want to say it?”

He stares down at his dark reflection in the tea, considering. “It’s nothing major, and it’ll pass.”

She shuffles, and then her hand slides along the table and into his view, stopping centimeters from his. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” she reassures. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“You don’t,” he says, raising his gaze to her. “You never have.”

It’s a bold confession from him, and he’s saddened to see her withhold a wince. Perhaps there are still some things she holds from the past, misplaced guilt in her role of situations beyond her control.

“Inoue.” He gingerly takes hold of her fingers, and struggles to find the right words. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Maybe it is.” She brings her hand around his, her grip warm and firm. “Whatever we face, it’s together, right?”

For a second he’s brought back to facing Yhwach. He’d asked Orihime to be his shield, to fight at his side against a foe of unknowable strength, for a future that wasn’t guaranteed.

How could he have been so foolish right now?

He can’t help but smile ruefully to himself. “Yeah, of course.” Then, after swallowing thickly. “Are you happy?”

It’s a sudden question, one he hadn’t thought to ask but had come forth anyway. Sensing how loaded it is, Orihime looks out the window in thought for several heartbeats. Her lips form a slow, sweet grin. "I am."

He tries to ignore the skip of his heartbeat, and the uncomfortable way his throat constricts. Before he can say anything, she continues, and her smile wavers slightly. "What about you, Kurosaki-kun? Are you happy?"

He thought it would take him longer to answer, but it comes to him with a few memories. The first is returning to everyone after Yhwach’s defeat. Despite the mix of emotions -- the melancholoy of Yhwach’s final words and the pinch of fear for the unknown ahead of them --  it all dulled away to an intense relief at seeing his friends. Uryu stood far away, watching as everyone rejoiced at seeing one another. Ichigo knew a conversation would be had some point, but the fact he was there was enough hope for him for now.

The second was his high school graduation. He grumbled on the day it on the day, and despite how mundane it would seem to many compared to what he’d achieved in other worlds, he felt a small sense of pride at having finished it. Isshin of course was an embarrassment on the day, one minutes shouting his praises about Ichigo and the next weeping about how he's grown so much. He'd taken a picture of him and his friends together, one that Orihime had a copy of on the wall near her bedroom door.

The last was watching Renji and Rukia get married, seeing their friends and the Shinigami happy for them. It was only then the peace truly hit him, that maybe he can gather the courage to tell Orihime how he truly felt. And the excitement and anxiety that came when she said she was free three days from then.

The nerves from before hadn't just come from a change in their relationship, from friendship to something more, but from the thought it could be disrupted by a new threat. But he had chosen this dangerous life, and she had joined him and others in it. They all know the risks, but they didn't have to always be hyper-vigilant. They had to live.

“Yeah, I am.”

At her widened grin, he remembers for a short period of time after Yhwach’s defeat when Orihime had put on smiles, attempting to mask the sadness and pain she truly felt. According to Tatsuki, it had been while he was in his comatose state after Aizen’s defeat. In both cases, that gradually changed.

In the face of everything that had come before and because she had the courage to in the face over everything that tried to take it from her, she still smiles and laughs. She helps others and protects Karakura Town. He can see why otherwise would under-estimate her – he may have once himself – but in truth, she’s probably one of the strongest people he knows. He’d grown to love her for those reasons and more.

And he loves her for it. He gets strength from her because of it. He can go into this peace with her because of it.

It’s only then he realizes he’s gotten closer to her, so much so her face takes up most of his view. She stares at him wide eyed, her lips parted and her cheeks flushed as she tries to stammer out his name. It's just like before in the convenience store; she'd captivated him with just a look.

“Ah, sorry,” he chokes out, but he barely leans back. It’s as if he’s frozen in place, and the only way to come unstuck is to lean forward.

With one last gaze flickering to her lips, he leans in. She does the same before he closes his eyes. He’s be ashamed to admit he’d imagined this at more than once, but it’s not how he expected it to be. It’s soft and awkward, both of them frozen in place, afraid to move despite how misplaced their lips had locked. He pulls back a little and tries again. If Orihime’s quiet, pleased sigh and the way his heart beats faster is any indication, it’s better.

A warmth spreads through him, radiating from his chest and thrumming through his fingers. He’s light-headed as they pull apart, and when their eyes flutter open, his heart skips a beat at seeing the softness in her expression. He’s with her, holding her hand,

When the haze of whatever this is has worn off, he’ll elaborate further on what bothers him. And when he does, she’ll listen intently, holding his hand, and smile when he he’s done, and be glad he told her. More than that, however, she’ll be glad they can go together into this newfound peace.

Dealing with the memories of the darker and weaker moments had become easier him and the others as time went on. He, Orihime, and their friends kept walking forward in the face of it, and eventually alongside it, and one day, past it as they forge their futures.

#ichihime #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #bleach #fanfiction #blog anniversary requests

[spectorcomplex]

rockstar gf ✩ e. munson x reader

corroded coffin finally got their big break. you dress the part to visit your boyfriend at the recording studio.

pairing: eddie munsox x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: swearing, making out (more like a blessing really)

word count: 2.4k

my masterlist

“You know, I kind of feel used.”

Your head whipped towards Robin who was picking up dark shades of nail polish off the shelves and putting it in your basket.

“What? Why?” You asked her, afraid that you’ve done something wrong after asking her to go to the Macy’s right outside of Hawkins.

“Don’t get me wrong, this is quality girl time and I love hanging out with you,” She drawled. “But you look so nervous!”

You were feeling kind of antsy and your friend’s observation confirmed you also looked antsy.

“Well, I just,” You sigh, feeling insecure. “It’s just that I try you know? To listen to the stuff he likes but I can’t help that I’m a top of the pops kind of girl.”

You were all dainty skirts, soft sweaters, and ballet flats. Eddie has said multiple times that he absolutely adores when you wear pastels to dates where he shows up in rough denim and leather. The pair of you got odd looks in public but having been with your boyfriend for over five months has taught you to develop an i-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. You felt happier and more confident compared to when you dated those straight-cut, khaki wearing, golf playing boys.

Robin turned down the aisle and you followed her into the makeup section. She grabbed a few eyeliners from different brands and spun to face you.

“You really don’t have dark eyeshadow?” She asked.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror provided by the store, seeing the bright blue on your lids and bubblegum pink lip gloss. You shook your head no.

Robin nodded contemplatively and placed the makeup items in the basket. You saw that there was also a blood red lip gloss.

“It’s cherry flavored,” Robin winked. “Your little boyfriend will lick it right off you.”

You scrunch your nose, “Ew, gross, Robin!”

“What?” She held her hands up defensively. “You hate talking about it but just loove to do it in front of me.”

“We were on a double date with you and Vickie, so it technically counts as a date between me and Eddie,” You shrugged, unapologetic for showing affection with your boyfriend.

Robin sighed as a response and linked your free arm with hers. It was silent as the two of you made your way to line up for the cashier.

“That boy loves you,” Robin spoke up after a moment. “He wouldn’t care if you listened to church music or country even.”

You felt your cheeks warm at her nonchalant comment. You and Eddie hadn’t said those three words to each other yet.

“That boy has a name,” You huffed. “But still. I really like his band’s music and I’m happy they’ve got that manager now. I’m probably more excited than they are for their album.”

Robin hummed, a smirk on her face. You were too afraid to ask what it entailed.

The lady at the cashier gave you a smile when you approached. She looked nearly the age of retirement and was wearing a rosary around her neck.

You watched her ring up the various dark makeup products and chunky silver rings and bracelets.

As you pulled out your wallet to pay, Robin cleared her throat.

“This is exciting, Y/N. This means you’re his groupie now, right?”

The old lady’s eyes widened and her smile was wiped off her face. You gave Robin an alarmed look and she raised her shoulders and mouthed sorry with an awkward smile. She didn’t look that sorry.

You grabbed the plastic bag holding your items and avoided the scrutinizing gaze of the lady. You nearly jogged out of the department store and dragged a chuckling Robin Buckley to your car.

“Not funny!” You said.

It was false anger, you laughed out loud the second after you chastised your best friend.

The two of you got into your car, still laughing about the look on the woman’s face.

“Sooo,” Robin started, looking away from the open window to you. “When are they recording again?”

“They start on Saturday, two days from now,” The date was etched into your mind, equally as excited as the members of the band.

“Well, are you ready?” Robin asked, going through the items you purchased with her advice.

“You make it sound like I’m about to do something grand like skydiving,” You chuckled. But truthfully, you were kind of nervous for the makeover you were about to do.

It wasn’t a total style change, no. Eddie made you comfortable with being true to who you are and unapologetically pink and fluffy— his words— but you wanted to surprise him and show how equally dedicated you are to his passions.

Another thing adding to your anxiety was that your parents might lock you in your room if they saw you leaving the house dressed in what they deemed “inappropriate.” It was a working progress with them to accept that you were dating someone outside of their status quo. You were glad they toned down spewing passive aggressive comments and even made the effort to ask you about Eddie at dinner every once in a while. They actually seemed impressed when you told them that they were discovered by a manager and are about to record their first official album. Still, you knew they wouldn’t like seeing you in such a look.

“A little nervous about how he’d react, honestly,” You gave a feeble shrug.

“Oh, that’s why you’re biting your lip so much?” Robin scoffed lightly. “He’ll love it. Once he sees you, ooh boy, he’ll walk back in to that recording booth turned on—“

“Okay!” You cut her off, feet slamming on the brake. Robin cackled even as her body lurched forward. “We’re here!”

“Take polaroids, okay?” She said before ruffling your hair and exiting the passenger seat. “I wanna see Princess Y/N Y/L/N as a rock band groupie.”

“Stop!” You laughed and watched her make a run to her front door. “Thanks for today, Robs! Love you!”

“Love you too!”

—+—

Today was the day.

The summer sun was high in the sky and you could only hope your purposely smudged eyeliner wouldn’t streak down your face.

You applied one last layer of the dark red, cherry lip gloss and felt a shiver run down your spine. You looked totally different.

With your teased, messy hair, which gave you a slight headache because you had to shake your head up and down violently like Robin said you should, and dark sultry makeup. You had on silver eyeshadow, which you already had, and heavily lined your eyes with the kohl liner you purchased. You applied red lipstick on and smudged it around on purpose— you felt giddy when you remembered Eddie pointing out how much he loved that specific messy look of your lipstick after making out. And applied the lip gloss on top. Your boyfriend already loved your cherry lip balm already so you were hoping for a good reaction for this one. You felt utterly confident.

The dark wash flare jeans you put on hugged your body in all the right places, the tattered Fleetwood Mac sleeveless crop top showed just the right amount of skin by your torso, and the rings. They were chunky silver with cool designs but it didn’t hold a light to Eddie’s own collection. You loved it whenever he let you borrow them. You looked down at your nails that were painted black and made a mental note to ask Eddie if he wanted to match. You know he wouldn’t say no and that lovesick feeling bloomed in your chest again.

The cherry on top though was Eddie’s leather jacket. He left it in your room last week when he snuck in to stay the night— to cuddle and kiss only of course. The black material stood out in your baby pink room and you loved how you had a piece of him in your personal space. You clutched it in your arms as you rushed out of the house, thankful your parents had their own work to do. You adored the jacket but it was way too hot at the moment so you decided to put it on when you arrived at the studio. Eddie called last night and said it had air conditioning. Today is going to be perfect.

Thankfully your boyfriend gave detailed directions and you arrived at the studio without a hitch. You saw his van was parked and you arrived just in time to see Gareth head inside the building.

You bit your lip as you slipped on the oversized jacket. It smelled like Eddie’s coconut shampoo, which he would never admit to using, and a faint scent of cigarettes. It looked like rock n’ roll, and smelled and felt like home.

You were walking confidently in your black heeled boots when the security guard by the entrance stopped you. Honestly, you were a bit annoyed but the first thought you had was wow, this place is the real deal.

“What are you here for, Miss?” The guard asked, voice all serious.

Would he believe you if you said your boyfriend’s band?

Thankfully, there was Gareth again, loitering you assumed and you called his name.

“Who— holy shit, Y/N?” He squinted his eyes before walking closer. You held back your laughter.

“Is she with you?” The guard asked Gareth, who still seemed completely bewildered at your appearance.

You had attended way too many of their rehearsals and bar gigs in colorful, flowy dresses.

“Yeah, I mean not with with me but– god, Eddie’s gonna kill me–“

“Alright, go on through,” The guard said with a huff and let you go towards the hallway where Gareth was standing in shock.

A voice shouted down the corridor before you even had the chance to say hello.

“Gareth! What the hell, man? How long does it take to piss— jesus fucking christ.”

Your red lips split into a beaming grin at the sight of your boyfriend. Eddie looked as handsome as ever and you were sure you had hearts in your eyes. This time, he was wearing a denim jacket instead of his usual leather attire.

You barely heard Gareth excuse himself when you did a little twirl. Your ears did however pick up on the way your boyfriend’s breath hitched.

“Sweetheart…” He started, ring-clad hands wrapping themselves around your waist.

“That’s your guitar’s name,” You pouted. Warmth bloomed in your chest when his chocolate brown eyes flickered down to look at your lips.

“Y/N,” Eddie said in a breathy tone that nearly made your knees buckle. “What..?”

“Do you not like it?” Your tone was teasing but truly you felt sweat build on your temple out of nervousness and not of the Indiana summer heat.

Eddie raised his eyebrow at your question. Instead of answering, he kept his firm grip on your waist as he led the two of you down to a deserted corner. Your stomach churned at the feeling of his fingers on you.

“Not like it?” He asked, almost sounding insulted. “You’re asking me if I don’t like how fucking hot my girlfriend looks?”

It was suddenly way too hot and you know it wasn’t the weather. Your breathing picked up when Eddie pushed himself up against you, your back softly hitting the wall. You were hoping for a good reaction and you can now consider your wish granted. Expectations even surpassed.

“I’m a rockstar’s girlfriend,” You breathed against his lips, feeling yourself get more confident by the minute. “Do I look the part?”

“Mhmm,” Eddie gulped, and you leaned in to press a kiss to his throat. “Shit— the leather jacket really seals the deal.”

“It’s the one you left in my room,” You said, fiddling with his collar. “Sorry, I promise to buy my own soon.”

“Baby, I left it in your room for a reason,” He winked. “Keep it. Looks much better on you anyways.”

A minute of silence passed, no words needed to be exchanged as the two of you looked at each other lovingly.

“I’m really happy for you,” You said, feeling the words in your heart. You were in the midst of seeing the love of your life’s dreams come true.

“I’m the happiest man in the world,” Eddie said before dipping his head to finally seal your lips in a passionate kiss.

It started slow, until you felt your boyfriend’s wandering hands go lower and they stayed there. You couldn’t help letting out a whimper as his hands squeezed and let his tongue swipe at your lip. You assumed he tasted the cherry flavor and his kiss even got more ferocious.

“So delicious,” Eddie panted in your ear when he pulled away. “You’re so hot.”

“You already said that,” You retorted, voice coming out weaker than you intended.

Eddie’s curls tickled your nose when he dipped down to mark your neck with his kisses, “Well, it’s the truth and I’ll keep saying it ‘til I die.”

“You can’t die,” You still persisted to tease even as he started biting that sensitive part of your throat which felt so good. “You still have a debut album to record.”

He chuckled, the sound coming out all muffled, “Damn right.”

Your heated romantic moment was cut short when the band’s manager called out his name down the hallway. The session was about to start and you let Eddie’s calloused hand intertwine with yours as the two of you walked into the recording studio.

“I feel like Joan Didion,” You whispered in his ear and Eddie gave you that adorable confused look. “You know, when she was in the studio watching The Doors record. Their third album I think.”

“Isn’t she a journalist?” He asked as he made his way to their instruments. You nodded and followed him around the room like a lost puppy.

“Well you’re not like her,” Eddie shrugged as he put Sweetheart’s strap around his shoulders. “You’re my groupie.”

You felt your face flush and you lightheartedly slapped his arm out of instinct. He laughed in response and reached out to pinch your cheek.

“Good luck,” You said as the sound technician called for him. “I love you.”

Eddie faltered in his steps and he looked at you with doe eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. You realized what you just said but you weren’t going to backtrack. Like he said, it was the truth and you’ll say it until the day you die.

“I love you,” He replied with a shaky voice. He stepped closer to you, ignoring his band mates’ groans of complaint. “So much.”

Eddie kissed your forehead and you let him step inside the booth but not before saying, “Go be a rockstar.”

hope you liked! reblogs and comments are appreciated :) challenged myself to write something shorter and i loved writing this lil piece

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things season 4 #robin buckley #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #robin buckley x reader #eddie munson headcanon

[tonberry-yoda]

Hello! Here for the matchup <3

Okay, okay, so... Following your rules, I would like to me matched up with a male One Piece character, if that's alright! My pronouns are she/her and I'm CIShet. As for my personality, I'm very shy at first, but as soon as I realise that the person I'm with is not a threat, I start opening up bit by bit. Once I start warming up to them I become more talkative. I have a very low social battery, so after a while I may go quiet and answer with sounds and/or short sentences-not because I'm upset or anything, but because I need a nap or at least spend some time alone. Still, I always do my best to contribute to conversations and I'm fine with being a listener. I guess it goes without saying that I am a very calm person and while I'm up to almost everything if asked, I'd rather spend time doing activities that don't involve too much socializing due to my anxiety. I am fairly polite and warm even if I'm an introvert because I live by the "Treat people like you want to be treated" motto.

As for the way dress, I always go for something cute. I like dressing up, but not over the top. The real beauty for me lies in simplicty. Most of the time I wear either a dress or a skirt with a sweater when the weather allows me to. I specially like wearing pastel/earth tones. More superficial stuff about myself is that I'm around 4'11ft, kinda chubby and my facial features are often described as "soft" (I'm about as threatening as a hamster, lol). The thing that has been complimented the most about myself is my voice. Some have labeled it as soothing-and, talking about my voice, I'm often asked to speak up because I hate raising my voice

My hobbies are nothing special, tbh. I play videogames, watch shows/movies, sometimes I sing even if I'm not too confident on my voice and I am overall a huge nerd.

Surprisingly enough, I think my love language would be physical touch (though I always mind boundries). It's weird because I don't receive physical affection often, yet when I do I always feel giddy (fun way to say I'm touch starved). My type are guys who like to take the lead since I don't have much iniciative, specially those who stand up for me because I'm the "I asked for something else, but this is nice too so it's okay" kinda gal in every situation. Guess you could say I'm a people pleaser

Other general information about myself is that I am easely overwhelmed by loud noises and bright lights to the point that my head starts hurting if I'm exposed to those for too long. I am also very sensitive/empathetic, gentle, and my head is in the clouds more times than not. I hate conflict and would rather look for a peaceful way to solve it

Aaand that would be all! Hope it's not too much information and no pressure at all! Thank you for taking the time to read 🩷

notes - TONBERRY WRITING?! ANSWERING ASKS ON TUMBLR?!?! THIS IS CRAZY, RIGHT?! Hey anon! I have been on some major hiatus, but suddenly got in the mood to write for a character and your matchup was calling to me! Your patience means the world and I hope I can provide more writing! Let's jump in <3

THE CHARACTER I CHOOSE FOR YOU, DEAR ANON, IS...

ZORO

that gif is hot tee hee

i just really think you two would fit

i dont even really know why lolol, i just read it and was like, yup, she fits with zoro

he's the perfect man to take the lead and protect you and always be by your side

you two love cuddling and taking naps

he needs you in his arms to have the perfect night's sleep

i really like the tone of your writing, anon, it's just so soft and you sound so kind and calm and I think Zoro really thinks that of you too

i think you cool the man down when he gets heated and more often than not, you have to stop an argument between him and that damn cook <3

~~~~~

2024 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#tonberry answers #asks #anon #requests #matchup #matchups #x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #writing #<3 #BEAR WITH ME GUYS !! #i dont know how much writing ill be doing or if im even back #i just got a random spark of inspo #i hope you enjoy it anon and thank you for your patience <3

[toastydoll]

Okay, inspired by @dollsinvogue’s most recent post about the wave 1 refresh dolls, here’s what I’m hoping for! First off, I’m thinking everyone gets at least a few accessories, including a phone, plus there was a hint about a pet which tbh feels a little too similar to monster high but okay MGA forgo subtlety. As for the slime, I’m hoping it’ll be like the og slime rainbow surprise girlies, ie optional, or something like what novi stars used to do with their lava-lamp-esque dolls only in the pets or stands or accessories or whatever lol.

Ruby: my Supreme darling…is supposedly a sneaker head? Lmao okay so that’s why MGA gave her two pairs of heels right. What’s that? Her accessories pack? It’s also heels. MGA come on what the hell. I know jade was supposed to be “girl in sneakers” (and sunny sort of ig) but come ON. Ruby rerelease comes in a supreme insp outfit complete w a Supreme beanie, Supreme shirt, her signature red jeans (with a more bold graphic design to them. More graffiti!!), and a big red puffer. Her shoes are red heeled sneakers, because that’s my compromise w mga, with graffiti art details. Her accessories are spray paint cans in red gold and black, detailing brushes, a can of sealant, and a blank pair of sneakers for YOU to customize (doesn’t come w markers but any washable markers/colors are fine a la color create). Her pet is a red snake named Firebrand a la g3 hissette (wearable).

Poppy: my beachiest beach girl! She’s so sweet and one of my favorites from wave 1. She’s kind of a mix of different styles and brands, the most noticeable for me being her off white “for flying” boots. First of all: poppy now has full body freckles like Victoria. I love that she has blue eyes bc I think they’re lovely w her hair, but brown eyes would also be gorgeous w the overall orange theme. I’d like to keep the monarch butterfly theme bc it’s peak so she’ll keep the butterfly clips and second shoes. She’s definitely getting a beachier boho vibe, starting w a blouse similar to her jh. Tbh maybe even as a blousy flowy dress. Her accessories are of COURSE her monarch headphones bc those are so good and how have we not gotten them, plus a few vinyls of the rainbow high albums and a laptop to DJ from. Her pet is a giant monarch butterfly named Mari, which can clip onto her arm.

Sunny: yellow is my favorite color so I’m so so biased about sunny but she’s my girl and I’d die for her. First of all, new face sculpt: she’s got the AA face sculpt for sure this time. Second of all, new hairstyle. I think she’d be super cute with little twists, including little twist blunt bangs. She styles it in the twin buns still, plus she does her edges under the bangs. She’s also got Lila’s bandaid and stickers for peak kawaii. I like her yellow green eyes but I wish rh had more black girls w brown eyes so i think warm yellow brown would be gorgeous too. Her outfit is an oversized yellow rain slicker, slouchy pastel yellow sweater with sun and moon elbow patches, a chunky decora necklace, bright yellow denim shorts, her rainbow knee highs, and a pair of yellow rain boots. Her accessories are a sketchbook, rainbow colored pencils, a pencil sharpener, an eraser, a laptop with an art program on it, and mini stickers to put on either the laptop or the pages of the sketchbook. Her pet is a little yellow shiba named Kawaii with a pastel rainbow collar.

Jade: my edgy tomboy!! She’s cute in wave 1 but not quite edgy enough (the common complaint w jade) and a little too Billie eilish (the other common complaint w jade). The big t shirt and knee length shorts can stay bc those are rad as hell, plus she’s got some nice refs to anti social social club (less popular than when the dolls released but still a thing). Her new shirt is the same oversized black but with glow in the dark skulls and hearts in addition to the anti sparkle sparkle club. Her shorts are the same graffiti with chains for drawstrings and a little more detailing. Her puffer is cute but I think she’d be cuter w an oversized black and green hoodie, also w the assc logo. Sneakers are a yes but hello Um can you put on socks jade. Even black mesh is better than nothing. I prefer her balenciaga sneakers so more of that lol. Biggest difference will be in the face though bc my girl is a makeup focus w the most boring face lmaoooo. She’s getting a black lip, graphic black eyeliner, and neon green eyeshadow. Her brows are on point and her contour is insane. She still has her beanie in green, but instead of her current hair she has a black side shave and a choppier punker cut. Her accessories are all makeup related, including an eyeshadow palette, compact powder blush, three different lipsticks (red, green, black), mascara, eyeliner, false lashes (non usable),and a full set of makeup brushes. Her pet is a giant black and green tarantula named Billie that can clip onto her shoulder.

Skyler: so sweet, so shy, so underutilized by MGA. I love her denim color theme, esp in her hair, so I’m keeping that for sure. I also love her references to off white, since they’re more focused than poppy’s. This time sky comes w tight coily curly hair and a mixed face sculpt. She’s got high waisted denim bell bottoms w massive bells, almost like JNCO jeans (which would also be a great denim callback), a white cotton cropped turtleneck tank top, and a tailored denim jacket. She still has her off white heels but tbh the shoes are less important for this fit bc the pants are the focal lol. Her accessories are really similar to the rh w5 accessories: a sewing machine and accoutrement. She also has a design sketchbook a la fantastic fashion, a small sewing kit, and three bolts of different denim (light, medium, dark). Her pet is a bright blue bird named Lark that can also clip to her shoulder.

Violet: notorious for constantly giving us nothing, I’m gonna try and finally fix violet. She has the standard Asian face sculpt with purple blue eyes and long straight violet hair w blunt bangs. Her original release felt like her vibe was posh party girl, so I’d like to lean into that with a light purple sequin two piece skirt set, fluffy glittery cropped coat, and glittery party heels. She’s got glittery barrettes holding her hair back behind her bangs and a light purple clutch purse (equally glittery ofc). Her accessories are a selfie stick w ring light for her phone, a laptop with photo editing software, and a larger desktop ring light that actually lights up. Her fluffy white cat Mr. Whiskers finally makes his debut as well, sporting a violet collar.

#rainbow high #rh #was considering doing amaya but idk

[simplysedusa]

How I imagine the Powerpuff Girls would dress

(credit to Pinterest for all the pictures)

Blossom Utonium

Blossom would be the kind of young lady who would have outfits for almost any occasion and sort them as such in her side of the closet and in her dressers (aside from maybe clubbing/partying). Clothes for interviews/press conferences tend to be a bit on the preppier side and a bit more modest (collared blouses with a monotone/neutral jumper, turtle necks, longer skirts, hair tied back with a pretty red or pink ribbon, ballet flats). Clothes she wears for casual wear would be a bit more colorful and fun (color striped skirt that may stop above the knee, jean jackets, high waisted jeans and shorts, more colorful sweaters, sneakers, doc martens, and knee/thigh/shin high boots). Longer skirts are ideal because they're easier to slip into in case of an emergency and she doesn't have to worry about being indecent while she's kicking ass and taking names. For my Pinterest board and this collage, I took inspiration from characters such as Betty Cooper from Riverdale, Nancy Wheeler from Stranger Things, Abbi Singh from The Imperfects, and Lara Jean from To All The Boys I Loved Before with a dash of real life fashion icon Audrey Hepburn, who I could see being a huge role model for Blossom. Her clothes would be more toward the pale, subdued, pastel side in terms of coloring. She'd love floral prints ironically because of her name, but also unironically because she thinks they're pretty. If she does wear designs other than floral, they're simple stripes, or polka dots, or plaid. Favorite colors to wear other than pink would be red, orange, gray, black, white, and like a creamy off-white. I also weirdly low-key headcanon Blossom being the sister to accidentally steal her sisters' clothes because she's in a rush to get ready and grabs the first thing that looks like hers and tries to gaslight them into thinking they're hers once she realizes the mistake ("It's pink, Bubbles, of course it's mine", "Why would I wear your stupid collared shirts, Buttercup?").

Bubbles Utonium

Bubbles is a girl who LOVES clothes and fashion (she is the artsy one after all). Her style is fun, cute, youthful, flirty, childlike (affectionate), usually vibrant and eyesore causing catching. She'd definitely buy and wear something that's baby pink, baby blue, AND lime green all at the same time because it reminds her of the bond between her and her sisters or something. She loves oversized cardigans and jackets, especially if they're fuzzy, furry, and/or soft (but NO REAL FUR). One of Bubbles' favorite outerwear is a baby blue winter coat with hearts on the back that reminds her of the Powerpuff Signal that Townsville occasionally uses. She loves to make STATEMENTS with her outfits, causing quite a few of her peers/classmates/coworkers to (make fun of her behind her back) think she's immature and childish. The designs on her clothes are almost always over the top and never subtle (rainbow polka dotted crop top, dresses covered with faces of cats or butterflies, etc.). If Bubbles is under the weather or down in the dumps, her clothes are much more plain OR she goes out of her way to wear something with those corny "it'll get better" empowerment sayings on it. She also isn't above wearing any of the clothing merch since she knows it's going to a good cause. Bubbles loves all colors of the rainbow so long as they're bright; Blossom and Buttercup joke that she might have more pink and green clothes than they do. She has no qualms wearing outfits that remind her of her favorite video games, cartoons, or movies. Luckily for her, Professor Utonium invented a spray that keeps blood and other monster bodily fluids off of the clothes so they don't stain, that way Bubbles' clothes can stay pretty and clean, just how she likes it. Just like her clothes, Bubbles also has a variety of shoes from Mary Jane shoes similar to the ones she used to wear as a little girl, to sneakers, to sandals, to heels she managed to get at a discount, and anything in-between (she definitely wears those furry monster feet slippers out in public too if she felt it complimented her outfit). Her favorite pair are all white converses because "they go with everything". She'd also add matching little clips or flowers in her pigtails, space buns, or whatever other style Bubbles chooses to wear her hair.

Buttercup Utonium

Buttercup's style is either sporty, athletic, and a bit preppy (she loves most of the athletic sport brands such as Nikes or Adidas) or 90's grunge casual. She low-key shows the most skin between her and her sisters with all of the crop tops, ripped jeans (with fishnet stockings underneath) and shorts, and other mesh and transparent tops she has (a girl's gotta show off her toned muscle somehow, she's too proud of it). If she isn't getting dress-coded for that, she's getting dress-coded for the sayings on her shirt that might read "fuck off", "what you can do, I can do bleeding", "free the nipple", or other rather crass remarks that the school might deem "offensive". Buttercup might occasionally dawn a skirt (preferably a not too short jean or even leather one) or dress (usually a T-shirt dress, maxi, or boho, anything fancier than that she lets Blossom and Bubbles pick one out for her) if she felt like it, but only if she's 100% sure she'll look hot in it and she's comfortable. Oversized plaid, collared shirts over grunge, rock band shirts and shorts (with a beanie if it's cold enough) are her bread and butter go-to. Other articles of clothing like leather jackets, tube tops, or her designer variety letterman jackets are saved for her nights out on the town, living up to her fulfilled prophecy from Boogie Frights. Color wise, Buttercup tends to stick to earthier, darker tones than her sisters, but she does own quite a few vibrant colored clothing items such as lime green, orange, purple, and even yellow (even though I didn't feature those, sssh lmao). Buttercup was really into camo when she was younger, but after realizing most of her outfits consisted of "black and/or khaki with camo", she realized she needed to step her game up, so she tries not to wear it as much anymore. Buttercup is also the most obsessed with shoes out of all the Powerpuff Girls. She's a HUGE sneakerhead and she's not modest about it (nothing pisses her off more than stepping on chewed gum, she too is thankful for Professor's new invention). Buttercup's also the only sister who really loves jewelry and accessories, especially chains.

#ppg #the powerpuff girls #blossom utonium #bubbles utonium #buttercup utonium #zoom in if Tumblr ruined the quality #my edits

[lonelypond]

Perilous Pink

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.4K, 1/1

Nishikino Maki learned new things about being in love with Yazawa Nico every day. Even after three years of dating and nearly one year of marriage, Maki could still be surprised.

The sprawling concrete and glass modern house she’d bought Nico as a birthday present never really felt empty. Nico had managed to fill most of the rooms with colorful art pillows and even a few quirky pieces more suited to Maki’s taste. Right now the main room and kitchen was hung around with Christmas lights, all the windows bright with blinking colors, wreaths on every interior door, a Christmas tree that filled the atrium standing two stories tall. Maki should have felt jolly. Yes, COVID-19 was raging, the third wave surging, Tokyo residents masking and social distancing. Masking wasn’t a new habit, nor was concern for the community. But they’d been forced to cancel their upcoming concert series, although both had agreed with the decision of their safety team. And today Maki was learning that a house empty because Nico was on the road felt completely different than a house where Nico was home and gloomy.

She was wearing nothing but pink. Every day. Pastel pink. Layers and layers wrapped around, like cotton candy. Not such a surprise for Nico. but right now, today, or any December day, she should be dancing through the house in an oversized Santa and snowflake sweater, elf hat at a jaunty angle, pulling Maki in to waltz and sing a duet version of “Snow Halation.” Instead, she was in the studio in the basement, pink blanket pulled around her, the weighted air of someone buried in difficulties as she stared blankly at her monitor’s screen saver. Nico smiled when Maki brought her tea or coffee or a doughnut but it was a fond half smile, too familiar, not a glad smile, Nico’s bright eyes sizzling with plans and pranks. Nico’s eyes were dull.

Maki had made Christmas cookies, sloppily but, she thought, endearingly decorated. Maybe they could coax a reaction out of Nico.

The studio door was half open. Maki knocked on the doorframe.

“I made cookies.”

Nico grunted. At least there was digital sheet music on the monitor.

“Nico-chan?”

Nico half turned.

“Are you mad at Santa-san? Or …” Maki’s voice broke a little, “me?”

Nico waved an impatient hand. “No, Maki-chan. Nico and Santa-san are fine. Nico and Maki are fine.”

“Why aren’t you wearing any of your Christmas sweaters? And we haven’t hung any mistletoe.” Maki looked around the room, pink blanket, pink pillows, pink plushies.

“Nico’s fine.” Nico snapped. “Nico’s busy.” And Nico shoved the mouse to the right, beginning a frantic series of clicks.

### Maki retreated upstairs, to the couch, overhead lights off, Christmas lights blinking out what she hoped was a distress signal Santa could solve. Emergency bff text session with Hoshizora Rin.

M: Nico’s overdosing on pink.

R: Nico is PINK

M: o_0 But it’s Christmas

R: So you’re sulking T口T

M: NO RIN I’M WORRIED

R: Is Nico not being kissy kissy enough ♡(ŐωŐ人)

M: (ﾉ｀□´)ﾉ⌒┻━┻

Hanayo: Nico was looking forward to those concerts.

M: I know

M: I can’t replace 100000 screaming fans

R: ヽ(＾Д＾)ﾉ ＼(★^∀^★)／ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪♬(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(◕‿◕)♡

M: ┻━┻ ︵ヽ(`Д´)ﾉ︵ ┻━┻

H: Just be you

R: Yeah Maki-chan you got this Nico needs her Maki

M: What am I supposed to do?

R: Maki things ᕙ(⇀‸↼‵‵)ᕗ

Maki things? But Nico didn’t seem interested in any kind of … Maki wasn’t going to dye anything pink or wrap herself in a pink robe or order only pink food. It was Santa season. It had its own color code.

Pink … pastels … were a spring thing … Hope and soft and flowers …

Maki froze, remembering something. A very old, very pink memory. Something she’d never told Nico. Something only she could have done.

###

Winter. Cloudy. Every day was cloudy. Nico woke up with a groan, stretching. Even the vivid red of Maki’s hair seemed dull, washed out against the gloomy winter sky. Maki was so vivid, breathtaking, that Nico knew something was wrong to see her extraordinary wife and lover against the backdrop of an ordinary winter sky and feel sad that winter had drained the spark, the fire out of the universe. Maki’s eyes were a fading lilac, Nico could see her own sadness reflected in them, leaking in.

Quick facial care, dry brush, coffee, Christmas cookies with very triangular trees. Nico smiled at that, slightly, as deft as Maki was with her fingers on the piano, art often frustrated her. But there was a cuteness and a simplicity that made Nico’s mood less gray. Taking a mug of coffee, no sweetener, Nico wanted to be more awake, less fuzzy and the cookies were more than sweet. Maki must not have leveled off the sugar before mixing it in. Today, maybe today, Nico could make progress on the song. She had the rhythm in her head. If she could cut a single by Christmas for the fans, she’d feel less useless. And asking Maki to help seemed like cheating. Nico imagined Maki’s daily life was a bustle of present buying, carols on the piano and photo safaris of Christmas lights and decorations. Nico did not want to burst that peppermint striped bubble.

Straight to the monitor, turn on all the blinking lights, listen to the whir of fans starting up, put down the tray with coffee mug and cookies, sit, slide into the comfy gamer chair, hands linked behind head, push back and look up. Nico froze. Something new. There on the wall, nearly as tall as Nico, was the brightest pink she’d seen indoors. Cherry trees. Full bloom, pastel pink burst up into vivid, spring life. Framed so you could imagine the blooms continuing off the canvas filling the room, a light floral promise filling the air with the hope of Spring. Was that Otonokizaka? Was that someone in an Otonokizaka uniform? Nico was on her feet, pushing up looking closely, at her own profile, eyes closed, delicate eyelashes dark enough to be seen on the porcelain clarity of her skin, lips pursed to kiss a cherry blossom nuzzling for an embrace. How? Where?

“It was before I knew who you were.” Maki said in her gravelly, half yawn, sleepy voice. “I forgot I took it. It was a grumpy day for me. I didn’t particularly want to go to Otonokizaka but Papa insisted because it was such an elite school so close to the hospital.”

A pause. Nico spun her chair. Maki leaned in the doorway, hair completely in disarray, a sweet smile as she stared at the scene.

“I was wandering taking blossom pics and there you were, perfectly sharp, perfectly poised against all the soft pink embracing you, the soft blue sky, the sharp blue blazer, your cardigan, how lost you seemed in the moment, your eyes closed, your lips … I knew there would never be such a perfect spring moment. So I snapped maybe 50 different shots and there was this.”

“And then you forget Nico?” Nico could feel her throat tightening and tears starting. “How could you forget Nico?” There were going to be tears. Lots of tears.

“I didn’t. But that moment,” Maki came into the room, pointing to the Nico in the picture, “you were a dryad, a sprite, the perfect sakura spring fantasy, not Yazawa Nico, aspiring idol and aggravating third year. So pushy.” Maki winked.

“You’re so gay.” Nico sniffled, “Weird gay. But so gay.”

Maki laughed. “And then I met you, you were like no one ever, and I had to marry you.”

“You got to marry Nico.”

Maki’s eyes were so serious as she looked directly at Nico, no embarrassment, just raw, caring honesty that so few got to see.

“I did. I love you, Nico-chan. Spring will come again.” In that breathy gorgeous voice that Nico had fallen in love with at the first word of “Start Dash,” when Nico had hacked in to listen to the upstart Idol group Honoka had started. Nico could feel the tears surge, shuddering as she threw herself into Maki’s arms, holding her lover so close, letting the brightness burn away winter’s gloomy gray, Maki as solid and vivid as Nico’s best memories.

Rare for December, Maki found herself eager for spring, and the pastel perfection of Nico’s sakura smile.

A/N:

Doing some different things this August, but if there's an AU of mine or a continuing fic you want me to bump up my to do list, drop a comment, please and thank you. Idol Fanfic Heaven is having an early August event, one of the challenges is write something in a real location. This house does actually exist in Tokyo. The pastel prompt (thank you!) is from the Femslash Friday Prompts Tumblr (link in comment.) Take care!

#NicoMaki #Femslash Friday #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Santa season #Sakura #pink #Femslash Friday prompts #wlw fic

[pursuingred]

The journals start out relatively normal, I skimmed these entries mostly because I didn’t want to invade her personal life before all this too much. Venting about feelings and how strict her parents were while practically pushing the raising of her younger sister onto her despite being only a few years older. It seemed like things were pretty rough..

The entries took a turn suddenly. They were talking about the disappearance of her friend and her confusion why no one seemed to care. I won’t transcribe these ones as they’re very erratic and filled with grief and guilt. It seemed she leaned a lot on this friend emotionally and felt like it was her fault her friend went away. Then it gets kind of weird…

This moment was when her fate was sealed, how fun! I managed to recover her phone. She used to do these voice memo journals and I just wanted to hear her voice again. So I listened to the most recent one and it was layered in strange static and at times sounded like there was a second voice speaking with her. She was talking about how she had found it, the perfect item. A pocket mirror with the exterior coated in the most vibrant red crushed velvet. It was to reflect “the radiant light towards the angel, that they may know and appreciate just how lovely it truly is.” It was one of my favourite gifts. She spoke about how excited she was and how she was going to go that very night. It was hard to make it out at the end because of the static and this second voice I was hearing sounded almost louder than her own. Despite how much I miss her, I am wayyy to creeped out to listen to any of her other recordings right now. What the fuck [REDACTED] … what did you do….

Of course her steps were guided from this point on. Her resolve was formed the second she heard my voice~ I did it. I listened to more. In the one earlier it was less staticky and mostly her voice. She was talking about going shopping because despite all her searching, she still hadn’t found it. It had to be red but she wanted the gift to be perfect. She was talking about this like red sweater she got before but she realized she didn’t know if it would fit the angel or accommodate their wings? And then she was talking about how the angel was cold on purpose or something anyways and then she was rambling about all the notebooks she got where the covers were red but the pages weren’t so they weren’t good enough. It was pretty much that the whole time with the second voice kind of jumping out whenever she said “red” or “angel”. The colour red jumps out at me a little bit more now every time I see it. I’m noticing it everywhere.

Today I went to the mall with [REDACTED] to clear my head a little. It’s not like our parents would take her anywhere or anything anyways. And so there I was. So we went to the stores she wanted to while I just kind of hung around. I wasn’t really looking for any, personally. Well maybe I was looking without realizing it. So I turned her head. So I saw these red bracelets at one of the stores we went to. Everything else there were bright and pastel blues, pinks, yellows, etc. so I was kind of surprised when something so red laid amongst them. Without thinking I quickly purchased them. [REDACTED] was surprised because I usually don’t wear jewelry or buy things for myself at all. Something about these bracelets seemed so right though. Like they were comforting. I slipped them on and felt at home.

So here’s a few. There were random bits slipped in written above or below the text or in the margin in red ink. I don’t know if she did this or if it’s something more foreboding. I can say I’m real curious about those voice memo entries now. Was the voice of the angel really caught on them? Does it have some kind of hypnotic effect? Was the pull to buy the red bracelets a decision she made herself or was it the angels influence? It

#pursuingredangel #by no means must I find myself with red objects of any kind #lest I be pulled into this too deep.

[kissbentennyson]

I have no idea if you'd do this but I need a nega ben x reader. He's my favorite out of the alternates. A softer one shot would be nice but whatever you're feeling is good too! I'll take any content I can get!

*Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica begins to play* Yeah me too.

Nega Ben x Reader | reader uses they/them pronouns, but dresses femininely.

Spill

He’d been waiting all day, and I mean, all day. Classes always seemed to drag on and on longer when he wanted something, and sure, he could have skipped. But that would have taken too much effort not to get caught. He isn’t afraid of the cops or the school administration… But dealing with his parents? Yeah, no. Not worth it. He’d b-lined it across Bellwood, all the way to the “café” he frequented. Truthfully, it wasn't much of a café seeing as how they specialize in more smoothie like drinks, but whatever. It has been rather crowded, too crowded, and everyone just wanted to get in then out.

He should have expected to bump or get bumped into someone, but it didn’t dawn on him until his espresso smoothie was all over your bright pink, fuzzy sweater. Both of you stood there with slack jaws and wide eyes as the brown liquid dripped from your chest and down onto an equally as pink lolita-esque skirt. It looked expensive, not in a daddy's money way, in a “I saved up to buy this” way. And so, he was prepared for hell.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

When it left you, Ben was confused. “Gosh, I should have been looking where I was going… But I was too distracted. Ugh, I-” You were flustered , more than actually, embarrassed is the correct word. “Um… Give me a second and I'll buy you a new one…”

“What?”

Watching as you tried to pat away the coffee with one of the recycled paper napkins the café gives out, a million thoughts passed through him. Of course he took the offer, he wanted that coffee. The line was a lot shorter this time around, and got by a lot quicker too. You ordered for him as he zoned out suddenly looking over your shoulder at him. “What?” He asks, watching you get even more flustered. “I just asked if you wanted anything else. Do you?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” he clears his throat, raising his voice. “The kale chips.”

You both walked out together, your head was down and you watched your shoes as you walked. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He glances at you with a slight side eye as he sips on the coffee, this was the gazillionth time you’ve apologized in just the last few minutes. “It’s… whatever.” He lets out a quick and breathy chuckle. “You apologize to me, but I ruined your sweater.” All of the sudden, your embarrassment seemed non-existent. A light and bubbly laugh leaving you. “Ruined? Oh, trust me, I’ll be just fine. I've dealt with worse.”

“Anyways! I have to get home and change, It was nice meeting you!”

-

The lunch room was beyond packed, packed like the reunion tour of a popular punk band from the 2000's. The doors and tables overflow with hungry and impatient mouths. You had managed to get in before the rush and snag a serving of less than okay school food, but by the time you got out of line, they had all flooded in. People had no concern for others around them, pushing and shoving like toddlers over toys, and you were getting the brunt of it. Not actually, but it sure felt like it.

You were halfway across the room and were looking around the tables for a free space- but it was too late for that already. A body slams into yours hard, you hit the ground as your food falls and splatters all of the chest of the sweater you had just gotten the coffee stain out of. Feet come down around you as you struggle to get up, the other person now looming over you. “Could you have watched where you were going!?” This whole situation was not intentional, but they had no right to get angry at you for that.

You felt the tips of your ears heat, unable to answer. Her eyes bore down on you as she sways with every passing body bumping into her. Suddenly, you feel a hand grab the back of your sweater and pull you from the ground, as if they were scruffing a cat. “Or, maybe you could stop play fighting with your friends in the cafeteria, like a bitch.” Her jaw drops and her freckled face goes red with embarrassment, obviously on the fact that she can't pawn her mistake off on someone else this time. The voice was rather monotone- in a way- compared to the words spoken. And rather familiar.

When you look up it’s the guy from the café, his neutral expression was a thin vale to hide his irritation- at least to you. His hand still had a grip on the back of your shirt, it was a firm hold, and it made you just a tad bit nervous. You swallow as the person swallows her embarrassment, rolling her eyes desperately to try and hide. “Whatever freak, sorry…” she turns and disappears into the crowd. You watch her do so, completely shocked at the situation at hand. Your lips part to say something, but his grip on your sweater releases, being replaced by an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly, you’re being dragged through the crowd and towards the cafeteria door.

He walks you out into the hallway, which is mostly empty at this point. “Thank you.” you choke out through the lump in your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking with you- and you aren’t in any position to object.

Eventually you reach the stairs. Under it is a mostly empty black backpack, and there’s a light reflection of gold from inside. The weight of his arm leaves your shoulders and he walks ahead, sliding under the stairs and sitting with his back to an old AC unit. You hesitate for a moment, you’ve only met this guy one other time… maybe you should just wait…… nah.

Sliding under the stairs right after him, you sit straight across from the guy. He’s already looked away. “I think we have third period together. Your name is Ben, right?” His phone is already out, and he’s scrolling through it. “Well I'm…” you give him your name, and all he does is look up at you with a nod before going back to his phone. The volume is low, but there are noises coming from it, ones you recognize. “Is that the Sumo Slammers mobile game?” There was no judgement in your voice at all, and suddenly the losing end sound plays.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?” “My little brother is obsessed with that series. He says that the mobile game isn’t that good, but he still played it to the end.” He let out a little huff like laugh through his nose, pressing the power button and finally giving you his full attention. “Yeah, maybe the old one wasn't that good, but this one is a new release- Doesn’t even have dubbed lines yet.” He clears his throat, slouching a bit as his hands slide into his pockets. “Actually, it’s not fully released in the states yet. I got pre access to the game.” He watches you smile, and suddenly there's a slight tense feeling in his chest.

“That’s really cool, are you a beta tester or something?” He shrugs. “No, and it’s whatever.” He glances away, gaze holding on the wall. “Well I think it’s really cool, especially since it's a series you like.” “How do you know that?” His gaze snaps back to you, suddenly defensive. “Your backpack is open and the sun is reflecting off of the cold backing of the trading cards.” You lazily point to the stairs above you, and there is the reflected image of the symbol on the cards. “Those are the collectors additions, from japan. I know because I’ve been looking for that exact deck for my brother.”

You watch as his cheeks dust a light pink color, lightly nudging his bag so it falls over. He starts avoiding eye contact, leaning back fully against the old AC unit. “Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be cleaning up your sweater?” You lean back against the stairs. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re kinda cool, and I’d like to stay.”

It was rather silent the rest of lunch, when you tried to hold a conversation- he would end it with short answers that gave you nothing to build off of. The bell rings above you like the screech of an angered bird. You both get up, him raising from the floor before you. You brush the dirt off of the back of your thighs, the light sound of unzipping catching your attention. You watch as the zipper of his hoodie comes down as he pulls it. Yanking it off of his shoulders, revealing the greenish-grey long sleeve he had under it.

“Here. Even if you get the food off, it’ll still stain.” He hands you the coat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the already open flap lolling open even more. “Oh, thank you, I don’t know what to sa-” “Don’t. Don’t say anything. This never happened.” He walks past you and into the crowd of students, with his head down.

You watch as he does so, eventually looking back down at the hoodie in hand. You feel your face just slightly twinge with heat. “Yeah… Alright.” You say under your breath as you rush off to the nearest bathroom to scrub the food scum from your sweater.

-

It was a game day.

Not that he kept track of that, he had never been into football. Once upon a time he played soccer, but after he got the Negatrix any hopes of that former love returning was gone. Ben knew it was game day because his cousin was in her cheerleading outfit- and it was no were near time for cheer competitions. Her makeup was done and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up, and she sat in the front seat of her boyfriend's car chatting to said boyfriend about the routines she had to do.

Ben sat in the back, as he always did, waiting for the drive to be over. It came soon enough as the car pulled into the drop off area in front of the school, slowing to a stop. Neither Tennyson waited for it to fully stop before opening their doors. He got out, closing it with a slam and without a thank you. Gwen still leaning in and talking. The chatter of the hoard of tired teenagers flocking into the building almost drowned out the shouting of his name.

Almost.

He groans, looking over his shoulder, spotting the mass of pastels jogging towards him with something in their arms. “I’m so glad I got here on time! They were packed this morning- and I thought I'd be late- but I made it.” In your arms is his hoodie and an espresso smoothie. You hand him your gifts with a large smile. “I um, washed the jacket for you. Thanks again.” The bell rings and you give a quick wave before pushing into the school building yourself.

His jaw hangs slack, looking down at his freshly cleaned jacket- lint free, folded, and still warm- and the smoothie. When he moves there's a light cracking from inside the jacket, like the sound of a chip bag. He pulls back one of the folds and there is a bag of kale chips, stuck to it is a yellow sticky note written on with a pink gel pen. A phone number with “See you at lunch.”

“Who was that?” Ben looks over at his cousin, an impressed smirk on her lips.

“You’re getting mileage out of this, huh?” “Soooo much.”

#proship dni #alternate bens x reader #ben 10 x reader #ben tennyson x reader #nega ben x reader

[descendantsramblings]

Style Headcanons

So basically, I’m a big hater to the way the costume team worked on them. The whole “All Isle kids wear Leather” and “Auradon Kids always look like they’re on their first kid and on the way to the country club” thing drives me crazy. It sorta feels like they made costumes before giving them personalities (The leather on Carlos  and Evie feels like it clashes with their personalities. Lonnie’s dresses in the first movie doesn’t fit the personality we see, even though she didn’t have much of a personality until movie two. Audrey dressed like a thirty-four year old mother who just picked up her kid before going to the country club. Ben’s only good outfit was his swim trunks.) So here are some personal headcanons and pictures of what I imagine for them. (I started making them at 1am last night lol)

Villain Kids 

Evie

As someone raised to want to be a princess, she wants to dress like how she imagines a princess would.

She loves pastels and is no stranger to pairing pastel blue with a neutral red or bright white. 

The only pants she really wears are either athletic shorts or those little flowy elastic shorts, otherwise she’s all skirts.

She’s sorta a prep but not in the same way a character like Audrey would be. 

Evie has respect for most aesthetics, even though she doesn’t fully fit just one. However, she hates crocs and those little pastel shorts that white boys wear, she will announce it often.

Wouldn’t be caught dead in neon colors. 

owns a blue fur coat (it’s fake fur, obviously)

Carlos

Baby boy is a total softie

You know that one gay little sweater in movie one, that’s where they went right, more of that.

He’s into the soft boy aesthetic and only strays from it for formal wear

loves layering sweaters over button ups

Cuffed jeans, always because ya know, bisexual 

Owns a floral button up from Jay, normally he hates patterned button ups but it’s his favorite shirt. 

Loves striped sweaters, he owns about 6 variations of them in different colors (all include red, white, or black of course)

Jay 

In theory, Jay doesn’t really have one aesthetic, he’s willing to try on just about anything

Most of his clothing was bought by Evie or Carlos, especially his formal wear

The only clothes that Jay will buy for himself is athletic wear

He doesn’t really see the point of buy clothing that he can’t go straight to practice in. 

Still has the beanie,  but he owns one in just about every color to match it to his outfit.

Listen, we know Jay’s main color is yellow/gold, but why did we always see him with more red/blue in the movie? What type of snow white aesthetic were they trying to give him?

Jay owns a button up that he write on, he refuses to wear it actually buttoned though

Mal

She loves the grunge/alternative aesthetic, she thinks it makes her look more like she belongs to the Isle

She wouldn’t wear skirts until after she and Evie became friends, Evie bought her her first skirt (a purple plaid one) and she fell in love with it

Mal has a whole jewelry box of just chains, both necklaces and ones that attach to clothing 

Owns a pair of Demonia Swing-815 boots (black patent) and a pair of Demonia Camel-203 boots (holographic purple) 

100% owns one of those studded hot topic belts. 

Has a headband with little horns that symbolize her mother’s horns 

Instead of the leather half gloves from the movie, she has those little fishnet gloves and covers her hands in rings.

Uma

Her style is similar to Mal’s because if Mal is going to do something, Uma will do it better.

Uma only wore outfits that were super Fem and had skirts until Mal started doing it

Then it was Uma always wearing pants, because of her love for plaid skirts she owns a whole collection of plaid pants

the only jeans she owns are black or dark wash. 

Her first ever large purchase was a pair of Doc Marten 1460 Zip Tartan Lace up boots (they’re green, black, and blue plaid) 

She and Harry bought matching Doc Marten Jadon platforms (his are more shiny though)

Isn’t as into chains as Mal, more into chockers. 

Harry 

When the E-boy aesthetic came out, Harry was all over it 

Harry definitely has one of those chains with a little lock on it. 

I’d like to imagine he has baby gauges

the before mentioned platform doc martens, he definitely treats them like his baby

Even though Harry dresses like an e-boy,  he always has his pirate hat on

Definitely wears cloth masks as a fashion piece he actually would wear his in the pandemic though, unlike some people who wore them before but not for safety 

Harry is actually really good at graphic liner, he owns a gold, red, and white eyeliner to add color to the outfit if it’s mainly black

gold>silver 

Bought plaid pants because Uma did, he want’s to match with his captain

Gil 

As we know (maybe you don’t) it’s in the canon that Gil’s mother taught him to sew and he enjoys it. 

So Gil doesn't dress in one aesthetic or even close to being in one, he wants to try out everything, both making and wearing them.

He does stick to a monochrome color scheme though, mainly shades of brown with white or black thrown in. Sometimes he adds a little red or yellow though to “honor” Gaston

Most of his clothing is more comfortable than anything

Only owns three pairs of jeans, the rest are different types of pants (he loves corduroys) 

Owns a pants chain that harry bought him but he only really wears it when Harry and Uma are wearing one so he won’t feel left out on it. 

Dizzy 

Baby girl has seen the Isle steal the childhood innocence from people, she dresses in kidcore as a way to keep hers

Her outfits always has at least 4 different colors in it.

No stranger to neon colors, she has a pair of overalls that are neon rainbow and covered in gummy candy and she only wears them with a neon green tee, Evie and Carlos hate this outfits, Jay loves it because of the disappointment it brings to the two fashion fans 

Dizzy’s outfits in the movie were colorful obviously but they should have been just more over the top

She loves patterns and has no fear of pattern mixing

definitely owns some funky earrings, clay rings, and  statement necklaces

puts beads on her shoe laces, especially on her converse (they were white ones, she drew all over them) 

Auradon Kids 

Ben

Okay so Ben’s animated and movie outfits were bad, you can’t convince me of anything else

Why was Ben not dressed in the soft boy aesthetic? You’re trying to tell me that Belle’s son wouldn’t be a soft boy?

He has a jean jacket with his father’s beast symbol painted on the back

Absolutely loves graphic crewnecks, often layers them over collared shirts

He and Carlos go shopping together often in their free time

Lover of funky crew socks,  ones with paintings, patterns, logos, whatever. But his socks always match

After he and Mal started Dating, he bought a white jean jacket and let her paint it, he wears it all the time even though it didn’t match his original clothing, he bought more clothes in her color scheme to match it

He owns like 6 pairs of high top converse (light blue, yellow, white, navy, black, and Purple after getting the jacket back from Mal)

Chad

Listen, out of everyone he was the closest to how I imagined he should be, that being said, he had a little soft boy thing going on in some movies that I don’t think fit his personality

Polos and button ups are basically all he owns, but he does have some of those pastel simply southern esc graphic tees (Southern people probably know what I’m on about, all the guys who act like Chad at my school have like 5 of them each)

Owns 6 pairs of those horrid little southern boy pastel shorts in different shades of blue (plus 1 white pair)

Will not wear jeans, ever, the only pants he owns are khakis

All over the shirts that have logos embroidered into the shirt over the chest. 

Definitely gets asked if he’s on the way to golf/ the country club, the joke is that he is, he has to meet his father there after school

prep.jpg

Audrey 

Listen, I’m not an Audrey stan, but they did her so dirty in the first movie

She should have been the stereotypical mean girl outfit wise, I mean, mini skirts, all pastels

Owns a pink teddy coat, and a white one, she actually cares about if they get dirty though, takes good care of them

definitely has a collection of tennis skirts, pairs them with sweaters/crewnecks or blouses that have a slight puff to the sleeve

The type of girl to wear rufflely rompers on her birthday every year, pink, white, or baby blue obviously

loves those tiny shoulder bags

preppy and looks good in it. 

cropped polos and tube tops

Jane

This account is a Jane should have been cottage core/ fairy core fan page, her outfits were almost there, just not there, she’s literally a fairy but can’t use magic nor did they let her dress like one, I hate it here

Baby girl loves gingham and floral patterns, some of her dresses are a little more to her mother’s taste than hers (her mother bought them) but as long as it’s a pattern she likes she will wear it. 

Cardigans are her best friend, she owns one in multiple shades of pink and blue, plus a white one (all of her clothing fits a pastel pink/blue/white color scheme)

Babydoll dresses her a her favorite style of them (the one I put in the top right corner is what I imagine her birthday dress as) 

People try to mockingly ask if she’s on her way to a tea party/picnic (like they do with Chad and the country club) if the answer isn’t actually yes one of her friends still say yes, no one can be rude to her about it 

She owns a corset (Evie bought it for her, it made her nervous at first but she loves it) 

Owns kitten heels and flats mainly also two pairs of mary janes (in white and blue) 

has one of those little pearl purses that aren’t really useful but they’re cute 

Lonnie

Last but not least, our funky little lesbian (she is, Jay is just her emotional support queer man) Lonnie, she sticks to the teal, blue, and pink color scheme they gave her in movie one

She mainly wears sweats (or athletic clothing) otherwise it’s graphic tees tucked in (many of them are from the men’s section) 

Only wears sneakers, she has places to be but also collects them (also owns 1 pair of pink crocs, Evie tried to burn them)

Carlos and Ben talked her into wearing a collar shirt under a graphic tee once (they bought her a sleeveless button up which she hated at first) and now she does it anytime she wants to look like she put effort into her outfit. 

Wears a lot of necklaces and rings (she loves to layer necklaces, she thinks it makes her sweats look less boring) 

Uses a mini backpack instead of a purse, easier to carry more things.

Has two pairs of custom painted air forces. 

Hates wearing bracelets but always has to have a hair tie on her wrist so they don’t feel empty .

#descendants #Descendants 2 #descendants 3 #lonnie #audrey #Jay #Ben #Mal #mal bertha #Carlos De Vil #Harry hook #gil #dizzy descendants #chad charming #clothing #costume team could have done better ngl #Evie #evie grimhilde #Cottage core Jane #Why do I keep making posts that could lead to Harry emo boy edits this is my own hell

[postmodernbeing]

Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU - Outfits pt II)

Part I | College AU HCs

Part II of the outfits/aesthetics headcanons - College AU that would (kinda) be included in the oneshot I'm working on.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor the trend of this outfits-displays, only this HCs belong to me. // Contains spoilers (for the icons that I used in some characters) // English is not my first language, so I ask for your patience and understanding.

Historia Reiss

She has a huge wardrobe and so well organized by color, textures, and sizes. From halter tops to maxi dresses, our queen really dresses like one.

Forever in love with skirts and dresses with patterns and/or pastel colors. But don’t get confused, girl has range.

So, one could see her wearing monochromatic ensembles one day and the other, she’s all dressed up with some bright color pieces matching a patterned shirt.

Also owns a vast collection of jewelry and accessories both original and classy. And let’s not forget the shoes: sneakers, heels, boots, sandals and cute little anklets to match. I swear she can make crocs look boujee.

Contrary to what people think, she doesn’t support fast fashion industry. Aware of her privilege, she knows she has the money and time to buy from small businesses and keep herself trendy.

Last but not least, and kind of clothing related: Historia loves taking Ymir to thrift shopping dates and later go eating at some indie cafeteria. The lifestyle is also part of the outfit, alright?

Ymir

Her wardrobe consists in comfortable clothes and not giving a fuck. All her clothes give Rockstar lesbian vibes (stan this queen). Her designated color palette is based on dark shades, so it’s a real contrast between her outfits and Historia’s.

Loves combat boots and her wasted Converse TM, although her favorite pieces from her apparel are bomber jackets, coats, sweaters, and hoodies.

Ymir also wears a fair amount of stainless-steel accessories, mostly chunky rings and chains. Moreover, is common to find her listening to music, therefore, earphones are a fashion statement really.

Speaking about must-wear, this girl likes to paint her nails black but due her anxiety she tends to scratch the painting off so it gives this grunge look (don’t romanticize this fellas).

Historia would suggest her some trends or give her advice about color, but being honest, Ymir has a very well-defined style at this point.

Now, about her dress style: She won’t dress like a metalhead nor grunge (at least not intentionally). And she wouldn’t define her style as dark, it’s just what it is.

Reiner Braun

He wears lots of denim in jackets and jeans but also owns a couple of dress pants that combines with beanies or simple caps. Also, has plenty of plain simple shirts that fit his strong body.

Reiner usually wears opaque shades of all colors. Another fact, he’s not a big fan of patterns unless we’re talking about sweaters. He also wears jackets yet avoids cardigans and hoodies.

A very important thing to know, Reiner has a lot of gym clothes, he works out daily so don’t be surprised.

Most of those clothes are joggers, pants, shorts, and t-shirts that look as if he ripped them off or something.

Actually, a lot of his clothes look like they’re about to be ripped apart due his huge ass pectorals (please, Reiner, let me rest gently on your pecs). Just kidding, his whole wardrobe fits him perfectly.

Finally, if Reiner had to define his style in a sentence, he’d probably acknowledge that he gives the impression of a rich a-hole, but really, Rei just likes to be comfortable and presentable at all times. So, rich white guy it is for now.

Bertolt Hoover

Bertie is that one friend that always carries a cardigan or sweater just in case, also because he tends to lend his clothes if a friend of his is in need. So thoughtful, our big baby.

His wardrobe is amazingly well organized, and its color palette is unmatched. Lots of blue, brown, beige, white and black.

We know he’s tall enough to call everybody’s attention every time he enters a room. And being as shy as he can be, he avoids brilliant colors or striking pieces. Instead, he chooses simpler outfits.

Bertolt follows this formula every time: pants, shirt, sweater. Everything clean and discrete.

Now if we must talk about his shoes, Berts prefers some white sneakers or modest dress shoes. He wouldn’t say he owns a vast collection, rather, he keeps a fair amount for different occasions.

No tattoos nor piercings. Speaking of which, it’s so rare to see him wearing any accessories at all. Maybe he'll carry with him an analogical clock, and that's it. Although if someone gave him a friendship bracelet you can be sure he'll wear it all-the-time.

Annie Leonhart

Lots of denim for her jackets and jeans. Hoodies, bands merch and graphic t-shirts.

Her clothes’ color palette has range but nothing too pastel or colorful. Instead, she gets all the opaque version of the pieces she likes.

Not that Annie hates dresses or skirts, it’s just unusual for her to even think about wearing them. She prioritizes being comfortable, and tight/short clothes can’t provide her that feeling.

Hates slim clothes unless it’s a tank top or something similar. She just prefers oversized hoodies and mom jeans. Also, if Annie can avoid skinny pants, you can be sure she will.

Owns a fair amount of gym clothes because she also likes to train but most of the times, you’ll see her running around campus, really. She’s a simple woman with simple pleasures.

Annie is the personification of ‘looks like she could kill you, is an actual cinnamon roll’, from her attitude to her clothes. So beware, for she’s the queen of looking rude with her chains around her belt, and her ring to match but don't let her fool- holy shit, that thing can actually stab someone. As I was mentioning, such a sweet gal, isn’t she?

Hitch Dreyse

She can make it boujee with so little effort (and money), lemme tell you. Wears her clothes with such an attitude and class. Hitch's an actual wine-mom, or aunt maybe? she gives those vibes.

People have the impression from her style, that her parents are rich, but nothing could be further from the truth. It’s just that Hitch knows how to dress. (Also, we know that for a fact sis has a scholarship, okay?) ANYWAYS,

Miss here is forever in love with white and baby blue. Owns plenty of jeans but also dress pants and culottes that wears with blazers or shirts that make her look like a princess with a diversity of fabrics such as satin, silk-alike texture, and cotton.

Hitch is the queen of heels. Although she hates very high ones, she rocks shorter heels and walks in them with little to no effort. Or at least looks like it. All of her shoes are classy yet unique.

Now, let’s talk about her collection of accessories. Hitch likes her jewels in gold and only buys signature pieces: rings, earrings (for her four lobe perforations, two in each ear) and necklaces, of course. Yes, it is gold but in modest designs. Sounds fair, right?

Marlowe Freudenberg

Our big boy in here thinks that he should look presentable at all times since he’s the Chief Editor of the History student’s academic journal at Paradis’ Uni. Not that he cares a lot of his appearance, really.

And that’s actually cute because he puts effort into his outfits. Marlowe would be one of those straight guys that are hygienic and know how to dress and has no fragile masculinity.

Cologne is a must and part of his attire just like handkerchiefs are, because at the same time, he was raised to be the classic gentleman TM.

Marlowe dresses in all colors; he can’t choose a favorite one or a never-changing palette. He’s aware of season colors too and plays that at his wardrobe favor.

Yet for his outfits he’d follow few simple rules: oxfords (cleaned), dress pants (somewhere between slim fit and straight leg), some polo/dress shirt/cotton thing-y for top and a sweater / cardigan / blazer if season demands it.

Finally, our favorite student-editor spends some time of his routine shaving his face and styling his hair, albeit wouldn’t consider himself a vain guy nor full of himself. Lowkey expects Hitch to notice his appearance. Such a sweetheart.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk headcanons #aot headcanons #headcanons #college au #historia reiss #ymir #reiner braun #bertolt hoover #annie leonhart #hitch snk #hitch dreyse #marlowe snk #marlowe freudenberg #snk #aot #aesthetic headcanon #outfits headcanon #part 2 #outfits headcanons part 2

[jimlingss]

Love Pages

➜ Words: 18k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Yandere!AU, Inspired by Death Note

➜ Summary: You've always had feelings for Park Jimin, star soccer player and cute boy-next-door. But it's been unrequited for years and you expect it to continue that way. Or at least until a certain notebook falls into your hands.

➜ Warning: toxic relationships, loosely implied smut, some victim blaming. This is not your typical love story.

The more he ran, the deeper you fell.   You couldn’t help it. Not when the breeze was whisking through his dark strands, sweat was rolling down his face and his brows were furrowed in concentration.    To some, it looked like Jimin was just playing soccer — a mischievous boy kicking a ball in the grassy field. But to you, it was much more than that. He was magic. Leaping through the air. Irises glistening each time the coach hollers and he smiles. The corner of his mouth tugged as his team members jump on his back.    Jimin is the one who manifests the butterflies in your stomach. And that’s magical enough for you.   “You’re drooling.”   Jihyo is startling when she throws her arm over your shoulders and pulls you away, shattering your trance. She giggles as you scoff, finally tearing your eyes from the boy across the field.    “No, I’m not.”    In spite of your denial, you check if you are indeed drooling and your hand wipes at the corner of your mouth.   “You have it so bad for him, Y/N,” your best friend laughs loudly as you shush her. “Relax. No one’s gonna hear. The whole neighbourhood’s gonna find out anyway if you keep staring at him like that.”   “I am not staring.”   “Uh-huh.” It’s clear she doesn’t believe you. “Are you actually going to talk to him or keep looking and making it obvious.”   “What would I even talk to him about, Jihyo?”   “I don’t know. You’ve been crushing on him since what? Eighth grade? Shouldn’t you know what he likes by now? What do nerds like?”   “Jimin is not a nerd,” you defend futility and end up sighing a moment later. Jihyo has a point. But whenever it comes time to strike a conversation, your brain empties and all you can think about is how he’s actually paying attention to you. The problem isn’t that you don’t know what to say, you just don’t know how to say it. “I always end up getting too nervous and make myself look stupid.”   “Need my help?”   “No.”   You glare as she grins. You know Jihyo’s definition of help is screaming his name for the entire school to hear. The whole soccer team would turn their heads as she’d wave and point to you. She did that once and you were beyond mortified. Thankfully, Jimin was considerate enough to smile and wave back.   The two of you begin turning and walking away before you’re late for library duty. “I’m just saying, there’s only four months left before we’re graduating for good. What’s there left to lose?”   “My dignity.”   “I thought you didn’t have any.”   You throw a weak punch, but Jihyo dodges out of the way and laughs.   You know your best friend is merely trying to help. It’s not like you like being this hopeless anyway. But you’re aware that even if Jimin spares a moment for you sometimes, you’re nowhere near his league.   As you pass by the bleachers, your peripheral vision catches Jimin looking your way.   Immediately, you turn your head — heart stuttering. But then you realize he’s looking at Seulgi.    The girl is standing at the front bleachers, sweater tucked into her skirt, cheering him on and waving. And he waves back with an even bigger grin.   Jihyo doesn’t miss the interaction. You feel her hand on your arm, guiding you away quicker.   “I heard Jimin and Seulgi have been getting close.”   “Really? I haven’t.”   Jihyo’s lying. The rumours are running rampant that he’s interested in her. You were hoping it wasn’t true, but of course he would. She’s popular and cute, and even dances. You can’t do any of those things. You can’t be those things—   “Y/N?”   “Sorry?” You blink hard, attention taken by the youthful librarian behind the desk smiling gently.   “Are you alright, dear? Do you need to go home early?”   “No.” You shake your head, feeling the weight of Jihyo’s gaze as well. “I was just thinking about something else. I’m sorry.”   “It’s quite alright. I was saying how all the books have thankfully been shelved and all the things I needed to be cataloged into the computer system is done. Of course, it’s thanks to you two ladies helping me out recently.”   The pair of you respond that it’s not a problem and she smiles before guiding you towards the back and flicking on the lights of the dusty room.   “I was thinking we could tackle cleaning out the storage area today before we close up for the end of the year. It hasn’t been touched since the previous librarian.” She sighs. “I’ve been meaning to get it done but we’ve just been so busy.”   Bookshelves on all sides and a table in the center, there are books without covers and ripped pages coating the surfaces. But it’s still not as terrible as that time you had to reorganize the entire science fiction section. That task alone took two weeks.   Jihyo seems to agree. “It’s actually not that bad.”   “We can probably finish it in a day or two,” you add.   “You girls are more helpful than you’ll ever know.” The older lady breathes a big sigh of relief. “I was thinking we could inspect all of these and sort them into books that can still be used, donated or thrown out. I’ll run and grab you boxes so you can organize them. Oh and if there’s anything you’d like to take home, feel free to! Take it as a perk of volunteering to help out.”   She smiles and you and Jihyo nod before getting to work.   “Look at what I found.” Your best friend holds up a bright coloured book five minutes into it and you burst out laughing. The novel reads ‘You’ve Got A Dog in Me’ and aside from the ridiculous title, it’s completely tattered with a brown stain in the middle. “It looks like it’s some romance comedy. Whatever.”   She chucks it in the garbage can and you notice an old guide on how to spank children from the fifties. It raises your brows and you throw it in the trash too.   There’s a ton of books to go through, but you have fun looking at some of the ridiculous titles or synopsis with Jihyo. Some of them are able to be donated while others are in a good enough condition to be kept after the layers of dust are blown off. It’s clear that no one’s touched this storage area for years.   The room is crowded, so with Jihyo at the front, you venture to the very back bookcase. You dodge stacks and bins, and squat down to the last shelf. Almost instantly, your attention is taken by shiny green spines that seemingly shimmer even in the dim lights. The books are large and heavy duty, requiring two hands to be pulled out with how tightly they’re stuffed into the shelf.   But you manage.   The first book reads ‘The Magical World Explored’. The second is ‘Dark Magic: Beginner Spellbook’ and the third, ‘17th Century Witchcraft History’. Latin and other symbols surround the titles and two of them are with small locks, the other without. Yet you can’t seem to open it no matter how hard you pull.    What’s even stranger is that the textbooks are immaculate. It looks like they’ve been untouched.   “What is it?”    Jihyo asks at your ongoing silence and approaches with the same curiosity that twists to befuddlement you have. “Looks like something edgy you’d pick up on ebay for that witch aesthetic.”   You burst out laughing. “I can’t even open this one. It’s like the pages are...glued together.”   “Maybe they’re cursed,” she says jokingly and your next laugh is a bit more uncomfortable than the last. At the same time, the librarian pokes her head through the door, asking how everything’s going. You take the opportunity to ask her about the odd books.   “Hmm, this is strange,” she muses, tapping her chin. “It looks like it’s from the previous librarian who worked at this school. I only met her a few times but she told me she was from a small village out in the middle of nowhere, so that’s where these probably came from. Anyway, she already passed away so I can’t give them back. If anything, just trash them.”   “Okay.”    You set them into the garbage can before continuing without thinking twice until there’s an interruption.   “Excuse me?”   There’s a familiar gawky boy with rounded glasses at the front desk. With the librarian busy on the other side of the library, you grab your best friend and quirk your head towards him. “Jihyo! Jihyo! It’s Namjoon!”   “What?!”   “Go help him!”   Her face flushes pink. “No! Why don’t you?!”   “Because!” You grin. “Didn’t you say that we have nothing to lose since we’re graduating?”   “Don’t you know I’m all talk and no action?” Her last syllable is a squeal when you nudge her forward and out the side door where she stumbles into his line of sight. Jihyo throws a glare over her shoulder before she clears her throat. “Is there something you need? Or are you here to bother me again?”   Namjoon smiles. “Both.”   You watch the cute interaction for a moment before leaving to give them some privacy. Humming to yourself, you resume inspecting and sorting the books, turning to the back shelf again. And as you clear it out, you grab a stack of novels at the top shelf.   Inadvertently, something topples on top of your head.   Luckily, it’s thin. Not painful whatsoever. Merely flopping to the carpet—   A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’.    It draws you in. Bewitched. Unblinking. Unbreathing.   A mysterious magnetism has you spellbound, curiosity coming within waves.   So you reach down to grab it, fingertips grasping the very edges of the few pages.   You flip it over to the back and your eyes skim the white text on the blushing cover:

The human whose name is written first shall fall in love with the human whose name is written second.

The Pages can only take effect if the writer has the person’s face in mind.

The only way the Pages’ powers can be removed is through erasing the names.

A name cannot be written first more than once at a time. 

Warning: The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Pages shall be. The less compatible a couple is, the more likely undesired consequences shall arise. Utilize with caution.   You’re confused.    You wonder what kind of prank this is. Whoever did it had a really detailed and elaborate yet creative plan to fool someone. But you wonder if they accidentally left this notebook here.    You’re not sure if the notebook should go straight into the garbage, so you toss it on the table and continue cleaning.   It’s not long before you come across a crime novel you’re actually interested in and place it aside to remember to take home. And it’s not long before Jihyo’s coming back in with her backpack.   “Hey, our shift’s over. She said we can finish tomorrow. Wanna go grab fries on the way home?”   “Sure.” You grin. “How’d your talk with Namjoon go?”   Jihyo smiles, the usual assertive girl grown shy under the topic. “How do you think it went?”   You grab the novel and shove it into your bag haphazardly without looking. You don’t realize a certain soft pink notebook underneath that you’ve taken as well.   //   It’s evening by the time you get home. Tired and grimy from the long day, you beeline straight up the stairs to your room as your mother’s voice chirps from the kitchen.   “Have you had dinner yet?!”   “I already ate with Jihyo!” you call back before shutting your bedroom door.    You swing your backpack off your shoulders as you collapse into your chair. Your desk is cluttered with loose leaves of your bored scribbles, college pamphlets and school forms you never read. The attempt to make your room pretty and aesthetic failed years ago with your messy tendencies, but what catches your eye as you look around is the candle of Bundled Roses Jihyo gave you for your birthday.   Golden lid and shell pink container, you reach out and uncap it to dig the wax into your nose. Even after burning half of the candle already, it still smells good.   You smile to yourself, placing the candle back in its spot next to the lighter.   The desk lamp is switched on and you reach for your backpack to dump out your homework. In a few months, you’ll be freed from ever having to sit down and be forced to do quadratic equations again. Graduation was definitely something to look forward to.   But as you spill the contents of your bag out, the crime novel and a certain pink notebook comes tumbling out.   “Shit.”   The Love Pages stares back at you.   It’s tiny print letters on the cover are simple yet annoying. You didn’t mean to take it with you, but that mistake’s gonna cost you a walk all the way to the library tomorrow. Or you could simply dump it in the trash bin now. Dust your hands off. Call it a day.   But for some reason, you don’t.   You don’t turn to stuff it back into your bag.   You don’t shift to drop it in the trash.   Perhaps it’s on a whim, riding the wave of procrastination, preferring to delay homework for just another moment—   You flip it open.   Min Yoongi            Kim Seokjin   Amane Miki        Jeon Jungkook   Kim Taehyung      Ellie Windsor   It’s funny. In a strange sort of way. There’s an endless list of names spanning across the pages, each line consisting of exactly two but the writing is starkly different. For some of them, it’s clear that they were written by the same person. Straight lines, small letters, the occasional loops.    Yet for others, it’s chicken scratch writing or scribbles, hearts drawn on the side, thin lead to thicker ones. It looks like the notebook’s been passed to lots of people in spite of its immaculate exterior.    As you flip, you find faded names barely legible as if they’ve been erased. More importantly, there’s more than ten pages that have yet to be written in.   For how silly and complex this prank is, maybe it’s a good luck charm.    Maybe these couples actually got together and this notebook somehow fell into your lap as a sign of fate. Maybe. It’s ridiculous. But would it hurt to try? It’s not like anyone would know. Plus, you’ve doodled your name as ‘Park Y/N’ more times than you could count. Secretly, of course.   Compelled and childish, you reach for the pencil on your desk.   You flip to the next clean new page and recall the rules of the Pages.   And you call to mind kind smiles, half moon eyes and a sweet voice. Your pencil loops his name onto the paper.   Park Jimin              L/N Y/N   It’s done. Your breath hitches.   You blink once. Then twice.    But — nothing happens.   “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”    You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it’s not like Jimin’s going to fall in love with you simply because you wrote his name down in some stupid book. That’s not how love works.   You shut the Love Pages and shove it away before cracking open your algebra textbook with a tired groan.    //   It’s early morning when you’re trudging along the path to school, rubbing your swollen eyes that you’re sure Jihyo will make fun of you for. But it’s not your fault that you ended up scrolling through your phone instead of tackling the chem assignment and forgetting that it was due today until you were laying in be—   “Y/N?”   It’s an unfamiliar-familiar voice.    Unfamiliar in the ways that you’re still not used to it. That you haven’t heard it directed to you enough times. But familiar in the ways that you’ve always listened to it. That your ears always perked when you passed by him in the halls, trying to pick up on the sweet syllables that rolled off his tongue. You’ve always hung off every sentence that he had to say.   Holy fuck.   Park Jimin is looking at you.   “Y/N?”   And he’s smiling, tilting his head, eyes tender. He’s so close and if your mind could actually function, you would realize that he’s just standing there by the school entrance as if he was waiting for you.   “Are you alright?”   “Y-Yeah.” The word chokes out of you and you try to shake off your nervousness. You muster a smile as your heart begins to pound into your ears. “S-Sorry.”   “Good morning,” Jimin tweedles with a growing grin.   “Morning.”   You start walking alongside him. “How’re you?”   “Good. You?”   “I’m good too.” Jimin’s eyes are crinkled and he steals a glance at you at the same time you do. It’s a moment that has your heart stuttering in your chest. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”   You’re caught off guard, unable to believe this is happening. But his presence is more than welcome. In fact, Jimin doesn’t know that he’s already making your day.   “Y-Yeah, it has been. How’s….soccer practice been?”   “Really great actually. We have one more game left. We’re versing West Side this time.”   “It’s the final match of the season?”   “Yup! We’re all pretty excited. Everyone wants to win but even if we don’t, then we come in second place in the entire school district.”   Your steps slow as you get to the front doors, still wanting to savour each second and luckily, he slows as well. Neither of you are eager to move on. “That’s incredible, Jimin.”   “Y/N!” Right as the conversation is simmering down, Jihyo disrupts any awkwardness that might settle. She appears out of nowhere and swings her arm over your shoulder. Your best friend gives you a knowing look and then to Jimin. “Hey there, Park.”   “Hey.” He smiles politely, then redirects his gaze to you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”   “Y-Yeah. Totally. See you.” You wave, still struck and baffled by the interaction.   Jihyo seems equally surprised as well.   And once Jimin’s gone from sight, she nudges you roughly with a sly smile. “What was that all about? Did you finally grow some balls?”   “No. He was the one who approached me,” you murmur, not sure what to say.    You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing, but that’s impossible.   It was merely a prank notebook made by someone bored.   //   It’s hard to focus in class with what happened in the morning. You keep replaying the scene in your head. His soft voice. The look in his eye. How he was standing around and his smile lit when he saw you. It’s a record, a movie, that’s played again and again in your mind. Soaking every second you couldn’t take in at the time. To some it might simply be mundane small talk, but to you, who’s always looked at him from afar, the butterflies are still tickling your tummy.   The world has never been so rosy.   It’s after class that your head is still in the clouds and you’re trying to repress your giddy smile to yourself.   You’re holding your textbooks to your chest as you pass by the field, making your way home alone with Jihyo at her after-school anime club. She had a small interest in it but it only grew after befriending Namjoon there. As much as she likes to make fun of Jimin for being a nerd, Namjoon’s the real geeky one.    But that only makes your best friend and him all the more endearing. You hope they get together soon.   In the midst of your thoughts, you don’t notice the soccer practice going on.   Not until there’s fast sprinting steps crescendoing to your left.   “Y/N!” There’s an out of breath shout of your name and you halt with your eyes wide. Jimin’s panting as his team members disperse from the field. He grins. “I thought I saw you!”   You’re stunned and watch as he wipes the sweat dripping on his forehead with his blue jersey.   You blink hard, mouth full of cotton. Before today, Jimin never approached you when you were by yourself — most certainly never twice in a day.   You’ve never had this much attention from him before.   “I was worried you weren’t going to drop by like you usually do!”   “Like...I usually do?”   “Yeah.” He steadies his breath with a cheeky smile. “I’ve always noticed that you came to practice. Honestly, you’re kind of like my good luck charm. It feels weird if you’re not there.”   Your brain goes blank. You process a single word at a time. And you manage one nod.   “Hey…” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with a subtle hue. “Do you want to wait till practice is over? I want to walk you home. If you’d like.”   “S-Sure…”   “Park!” his coach shouts and Jimin whirls around with a grin. “Break’s over!”   “Yeah, I’m coming!”   Park Jimin’s smiling to himself as he runs back onto the field — leaping in the air, wind whisking through his dark strands. In the meanwhile, you’re left rooted to the ground, staring at his backside. Your face is on fire and the butterflies erupt all the way to your throat. It’s magic.   “—hot dogs down at East road….”   “You comin’, Park?” Kyungsoo looks at his team member, noticing the quietness of the soccer star.   Jimin smiles before pulling the clean shirt through his head. “Nah. I have plans.”   “With who?” another interjects. “Seulgi?”   “No, someone else.”   Instantly, obnoxious ‘ooh’s fill the locker room and he rolls his eyes with a growing grin before throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and shutting his locker. Jimin exits and finds you waiting meters away.   Jimin runs to you. “Sorry for you leaving you waiting!”   “It’s okay.”   The walk home is a bit awkward. You’ve never had anyone accompany you other than Jihyo before — most certainly not a boy, and not the person you’ve been crushing on for practically four years now.   You clear your throat and steal a glance. “Is there a reason you wanted to walk me home?”   “Why?” Jimin is immediately alarmed. “Did you not want me to?”   “No!” Your eyes look into his, equally as rounded. “That’s not it. I’m...just not used to it, that’s all.”   “Honestly.” Your steps are synced together and colour blooms on his cheeks. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you more and get to know you better.”   “Oh.”   “I guess you can say I realized the other day that we went to the same elementary, but I don’t even know you that well. You can tell me if you don’t want to—”   “I want to,” you blurt before you can realize what’s coming out of your mouth. Jimin’s eyes are as big as saucers and he nods. At the same time, you frantically turn away out of embarrassment, not noticing the way Jimin was smiling to himself.   The comfortable silence simmers between the pair of you as the sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky in a pastel tangerine hue. You can hear children on the playground nearby, see the other sidewalk occupied by a couple pulling along a stroller and the grandma in her front yard pinning up her laundry to dry.   And as you savour the moment, the back of your hand accidentally brushes against Jimin’s.   It’s soft and you flinch subtly before glancing down.   Jimin must feel it too because he follows your line of sight and clears his throat.   “Hey.” His timbre is husky and nervous. “Is it...okay if I hold your hand?”   You answer with a bob of your head.   And Jimin timidly reaches out, fingertips first, and then his palms clutch yours. Your hands are slotted together perfectly and you muse how soft his skin is.   Heat rises to your face. Heart stuttering in your chest. Butterflies a whirlwind in your stomach. But unfortunately, the moment is all too short.   “This is it.” You stop in front of your house and Jimin lets go of you.   He looks at your home and smiles. “It’s cute.”   “Thanks.” You pull open the gate, eyes diverted elsewhere lest he can see how flustered you are. “Well, I’ll see you later, Jimin. Thanks for walking me home…”   “Wait!” he shouts when you’ve taken three steps and you spin around to see him scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, um, Y/N. Would….would you like to...like to go out sometime to catch a movie or get some food this weekend. I mean you don’t have to, no pressure.”   Your mouth is twitching as you try your best not to scream on spot. “I’d like that, Jimin.”   “Okay.” A cheeky grin spreads gradually into his cheeks, eyes crinkled into crescent moons. “I should probably get your number then…?”   “Sure.”   The exchange is quick and then you’re running into your house, stomping all the way up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s shout. You launch yourself into bed face first, mattress bouncing at the impact. While your limbs are sprawled out, you scream into your pillow with your furnace hot face.   You roll around in your covers, kicking your blankets.   Jimin just asked you out on a date.    He asked you out on a date and he walked you home. Park Jimin walked you home and talked to you this morning.   You’re certain your heart’s about to give out with how fast it’s beating, that the butterflies bursting in your tummy’s about to explode up your throat and out of your mouth.   You can’t believe it.    You rise up in your bed with your hair in a disarray and your bed ruined, and you look over to your desk where the pastel pink notebook is. You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing.   //   “You’re going on a date?!”   Your best friend is taken off guard, but when you vehemently nod, her confusion is overcome with excitement. Jihyo engulfs you in a hug. “This is so fucking exciting! I’m so excited for you! Oh my god!” She squeals and you laugh, jumping together. “Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?”   “I have no idea.”   “I’ll help you.” She grins. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to sweep him off his feet.”   “Easy for you to say,” you counter, “Your crush already likes you back.”   “Namjoon’s just a friend,” Jihyo sighs and then her peripheral vision catches the tall brunette passing by as if calling his name was enough to summon him. “Shush! He’s coming!”   Except you look him straight in the eye and smile. “Hey, Namjoon.”   “Hey.” Namjoon snorts as if he overheard the conversation, a smile placed on his features as his eyes linger on Jihyo before he passes by.    She remains nonchalant as if he’s invisible. Or at least until the moment he’s gone and she steps on your foot. “You were being way too obvious!”   You pout at Jihyo, grabbing her arm. “No, I wasn’t.”   “Go be cute to Jimin instead,” she scoffs while you giggle, hoping he’ll find you half as endearing as you know your best friend does.   //   The weekend comes slower than you wish it would, but arrives nonetheless.   You’re waiting at the station — intercom noisy overhead, the sound of the train breaking echoing from afar. It’s the bustle of the afternoon, of overtime office workers and other couples shuffling amongst themselves with parents following their children.   You tug on the hem of your dress that Jihyo insisted you wear. You’re not sure if it’s too much or if you caked on too much makeup, but there’s no time to overthink.   “Y/N!” Jimin meets you, dressed in casual attire of jeans and a white tee underneath a black hoodie. “I’m sorry I’m late!”   “You weren’t late, Jimin. I just came early.”   “But how long were you waiting for?”   “Not that long,” you assure and he glances at you before smiling.   “You look really nice. Like really nice.”   “T-Thanks,” the word stutters out of you and you look around, feeling conscious under his sole attention. “Where are we heading first?”   “I was thinking of catching a movie, if you’d like.”   “Sure.” The both of you start moving towards the exit. At the same time, the intercom announces the arrival of the Northbound train. It pulls up on the other side and the doors whir open a beat later, flooding the platform with passengers exiting and pushing to enter.   In the chaos, your shoulder is roughly shoved and you’re pushed aside by the rushing mass. You wince and open your eyes to discover you’re losing sight of the boy with dark strands.   But the second hopelessness begins to settle—   “Are you okay?”   Jimin’s hand has clasped yours and he’s pulled you out from the crowd. You stumble in a place where you can breathe again. Jimin smiles sweetly and you’re not sure if he’s an angel or not.   “I thought I lost you,” you admit in an exhale.   “Don’t worry, I would never let you out of my sight.” His grip is firm and secure. Jimin squeezes tenderly and leads you out the exit again — this time with you in hand.   You feel your palm getting warm. “Sorry, my hand’s a bit sweaty.”   “I don’t mind.”   Your heart catches in your throat.    You hope this lasts forever.   The pair of you end up catching a romance movie in a cute, local theater called When Spring Meets Autumn. But towards the end, you’re not sure what it’s about. Not when all you can think about is the fact that Jimin’s beside you, how he’s leaning your way, your elbows are brushing. The way his arm ends up draping over the back of your seat.   All you can do is steal glances at him.   Your eye eventually catches his and your attempt of pretending you weren’t staring is futile.    You feel Jimin lean even closer, noticing a soft smile playing on his lips. “Is there something wrong?” he whispers.   You shake your head. It’s the opposite. This is a dream come true.   “I’m usually more into action than romance,” he says as the both of you walk alongside one another over the bridge. “I can’t believe that actress died ten minutes into the movie though.”   “Oh yeah.” You laugh awkwardly, not able to recall. Your eyes travel towards the cityscape and then the lake that you were crossing. Your ears perk at the giggles of couples in pedal boats, blue boats they’re using to cross the waters together. Envy stems in your mind. They sure were taking advantage of the warm weather.   Jimin notices your fixation. “Have you ever been?”   You shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to go in it with my family, but I never got the chance.”   “We could do it now.”   Your eyes meet his. “Right now?”   “Why not?” He grins boyishly, already taking your hand again.   It’s ten dollars for ten minutes and you split the cost in half, in spite of how much he insists on paying for the ride. The boat wobbles as you get in, but Jimin holds your hand and guides you, laughing while the instructor asks if you want a life jacket for the second time and shows the rules nailed onto the wooden board.   The two of you get settled in and start pedaling with your feet.    But you don’t get anywhere and bump into the dock instead.   “The left person paddles!” The instructor yells and Jimin’s wide-eyed before he nods and follows.   “This is actually my first time too,” he admits shyly as you finally get into the lake. “I wanted to look cool.”   Laughter unabashedly bubbles out of your throat. “It’s okay, Jimin. You’re very cool to me.”   “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”   “No!” You retort in the midst of giggles. “I’m being honest!”   You both paddle to the middle of the lake and it’s a lot more work than you expected. You’re sure you don’t look flattering in your dress pedaling a boat but there’s no time to dwell when you’re having this much fun.   At least not until you feel your toes getting wet.   “Oh my god!” You flinch. “There’s a hole in the boat!”   Water leaks up to your ankles and it’s only getting faster. “Paddle to shore!” Jimin shouts in the midst of laughing. You giggle and as if to make matters worse, the rolling clouds over the horizon begin pouring rain. It spits and then starts showering on top of your heads.   You’re becoming soaked from both ways, but rather than being upset, you’re laughing and giggling hysterically with one another.    Jimin helps you up onto the harbour and holds your hand as you run away to get some cover. You find some under a closed store canopy on a nearby quiet street. The pair of you face the road, unable to see far with the thick, heavy rain morphing the city to monochrome.   Warm giggles fill the spaces beside you. “I’m going to be honest, I imagined the first date with you would be a lot better than this.”   You meet Jimin’s eye and take the chance to tease him. “You imagined it?”   But he doesn’t make a snarky comeback. Jimin is genuine as he is shy. “Yeah. I have. I like you a lot, Y/N. I think...I have for a long time. I just didn’t realize it.”   It’s silent — the peaceful kind of quiet that lingers. As cold as the rain is, your face warms. But you wonder if this is how Jimin really feels or if it’s the Love Pages’ doing.   Your trance is shattered by an embarrassed laugh.   “You shouldn’t leave a guy waiting after they confessed, you know.” Jimin tilts his head, eyes tender and smile kind. “It makes it feel like you’re about to reject me.”   Reject him?!   “I’ve liked you since eighth grade,” you blurt loudly, the honesties pouring out of your mouth. They’re words you never thought you would have the chance to say. A confession you’ve always held in your throat. Secrets you held so close to you and were too cowardice to speak.   But the compassionate Jimin you’re facing makes you brave.   He grins, a growing smile that spreads into his cheeks and makes his eyes gleam. “Really?”   “I have ever since you helped me in that group project.”   “I did?” His brows furrow. “I can’t really recall.”   It’s disheartening to hear considering that the memory is significant to you, but you elaborate as if you could jog his mind. “Science class with Mr. Chen. No one was listening and I was really stressed, but you helped me.”   The recognition never seems to set in his eyes, but instead, they flicker down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”   You nod furiously and Jimin smiles before he leans in with heavy lidded eyes. His fingers lift to hold your chin and your eyes flutter shut. Soft lips meet yours.   It’s a sweet kiss, a brief and chaste one. Your very first. And your heart feels like it’s about to burst. You can practically hear Jimin’s thundering heartbeat underneath the thumping rain.   //   The giddiness lasts an hour later. You can’t resist the enormous grin on your face even when you slap your own cheeks and tell yourself to calm down. It’s still cloudy outside when you get home, the rain subsided into scattering droplets, yet you feel warm inside.   “I’m hom—”    The announcement is cut short when you stumble on a pair of shoes. You catch yourself and look down to find odd brown loafers that don’t belong to your mom, dad or you.   There’s only one other person.   “Hobi?!”   As if the day couldn’t get any better.   You sprint into the living room to find your older brother sitting on the couch and he turns around with a small smile. “If it isn’t my baby sister.”   “What are you doing here?” It’s not like him to visit unannounced, but as you step forward into the evening light, you discover his reddened eyes and the swollen area underneath is as if he’s been crying. Colour instantly drains from your face and your expression falls. “Is...there something wrong?”   Your pupils stray to the suitcase beside him.    Hoseok musters another smile. “Surprise. I’m moving back.”   “W-Where’s Irene?”   “She’s not coming.” His voice is hoarse. “It’s…..over. We’re getting a divorce.”   What?   //   Life — he told you is what happened. Careers got busy. Staying together turned out to be more of a chore than expected. And it seemed like there were more arguments than there were proper conversations.   Hoseok followed it up with a hard swallow and nonchalantly told you that sometimes things just don’t work out. But by the look on his face, you know he was holding back tears.    You’ve never seen your brother cry before.   “What do you mean?!”   “What happened? Did she kick you out? For how long?! Where are you planning to go now?!”   Your parents are in hysterics, exasperated and stunned by the situation. Your dad is tense in the armchair while your mother is pacing the floor. You watch the three of them through the gap of your bedroom door, not sure if you should intrude or what you would even say.   “This doesn’t make any sense! The two of you were fine last week!”   “We weren’t, mom,” Hoseok assures in a weak voice with his downcast head.   “Have you spoken to her yet?! Did the pair of you sit down and talk properly?”   Your older brother releases a staggering exhale from his lungs. “We have,” his voice cracks, “enough times. And...it’s...it’s over between us.”   This isn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening.   Your mother cries, “Hoseok, are you giving up?! You can’t just give up! This is your marriage that we’re talking about. This is serious!”   “This isn’t just up for me to decide!” Hoseok retorts in a shout, finally lifting his face. “I can’t do anything about it when she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore!”   You shut the door quietly, pressing your back against the surface. You’re as shocked as your parents are — maybe even more so. You were the one who saw it first hand. You’re the one who tagged along when they went to play, when Irene knocked on the door every morning to go to school together, you’re the one who sat in the backseat as they took a road trip down to the beach six summers ago.   The two of them grew up together in this neighbourhood. They’re soulmates.   And you know that best.   Your dad’s voice is muffled through the walls. “—happened exactly?”    “—doesn’t love me anymore……..wanted a break weeks ago.”   Hoseok’s eagerness, Irene’s calmness. Their sense of humour, their ambitions in life — it all aligns like puzzle pieces meant to fit. And you’re not the only one who thinks so. Everyone who has eyes and ears would’ve thought that their relationship would be inevitable.    They’re soulmates — better together than apart — and you could bet your entire existence on that fact.   You march across the stretch of your room and sit yourself down in the chair. Swiftly and silently, you pull open the last drawer of your desk and grab the pastel pink notebook.   Pushing your chemistry textbook, candle and lighter aside, you flip open the pages.   Kang Irene            L/N Hoseok L/N Hoseok          Kang Irene   The names are written without needing to blink twice, straight lines and big print. Twice to make sure that both sides are the same, that affections will be reciprocated. But you know it’s childish.   You can only hope it works.   //   Dinner is stiff. Little bites are taken, each person nibbling on the food. No words are exchanged across the table when the tension is so thick. Neither your mom or your dad speaks another word about the issue with the way Hoseok’s brooding. There’s no point in making futile commentary, in adding gasoline to the fire after all, so you don’t press on the matter either.   But ten minutes into dinner, the silence is interrupted by the doorbell.   It echoes throughout the home and heads lift, eyes looking at one another.   Hoseok is the first who moves. As if he has a sixth sense or a foolish wish of who it could be.   Who he hopes it is.   And as you and your parents follow after him while he opens the door, that wish is granted.   Irene stands at the doorstep in a cream coat and leggings, bag thrown over her shoulder. She’s out of breath as if she rushed over, yet the pair of them don’t speak. They gaze at one another quietly. Hoseok grips the doorknob, eyes pinned on his wife as she looks back into his brown irises warmed by the dim light of the foyer. Their eyes are tender, expressions pained.   “C-Can I come in?” she asks in an exhale.   Hoseok nods fervently.   As much as your parents would like to listen in to the conversation, they both give Hoseok and Irene a private moment. One you observe through the crack of your door.   There’s an exchange of sighs and muffled apologies.   And when your brother finally asks what she’s doing here, Irene responds in a beat. “I still love you.”   “W-What? But just a few hours ago...you….you said….we were done. This is so sudden.”   “I know.” With her downcast head, tears trickle down her cheeks. “I know that. But I regretted it the second you were gone, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everythin—”   Hoseok pulls her in close, cradling her face against his shoulder as he embraces her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you too.”   The corner of your mouth tugs and you look away when they kiss. They’re surmounting the bittersweet moment together, leaving behind the point where they were so close to abandoning their relationship.   Your parents emerge with you lingering behind and you’re relieved as they are.   “I’m sorry.” Irene dips her head.   Your father glances at your mother and then smiles. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Couples fight all the time. It’s only natural when you’re living together.”   “Does this mean you’re not staying over?” You intrude, quirking your head at your brother who smirks. “I thought we were gonna have a massive sleepover.”   Your mom nudges you. “Let him leave with Irene. They should spend time together.”   Hoseok laughs. “Maybe next time, squirt. I’ll make sure to come home next week and visit. This time, properly.” He gazes at his wife who nods.   The two of them leave hand in hand, closer than they were before.   It's the perfect outcome. All you could have hoped for. What you know is meant to be.   But it isn’t a mere coincidence that Irene came here, that they made up with one another.   You know it in your bones — the Love Pages works and it’s your saviour.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Jihyo notes with a brow raised and you snap back to attention, realizing that you’ve been humming and smiling to yourself.    “I guess I just have a lot to be happy about,” you sing-song and your best friend scoffs lighty with a tiny smile of her own.   “Yeah, cause you’re dating Park Jimin and even wearing his sweater. Life’s good, isn’t it?”   You look down to the navy material that’s soft to the touch, sleeves draped past your fingers. He gave it to you after noticing that you were cold one evening and said you could keep it. You’re happy to wear it too since it carries his comforting scent and makes it clear what your relationship with him is.   You smile, unable to retort Jihyo’s snarky yet playful tone.   And she notices your love-struck state, rolling her eyes before she’s interrupted by a gawky brunette whose height towers over her sitting form. “Jihyo, you said you had the homework answers?”   She looks up and deadpans, “I never said I would give them to you, Namjoon.”   You’re stunned at how your best friend can be so cold to her crush, but you know it’s just a front to keep herself from being flustered and out of control.    Namjoon seems to know as well since he grins. “I thought we could compare.”   “Fine.” She exhales, acting like it’s all a chore when you’re certain she’s ecstatic. Jihyo brushes a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and smooths out her skirt as she stands. “Let’s see what you have, Joon.”   You watch them stride across the classroom to his desk, eyes tracing their backsides. And then you’re reaching down to your backpack for the pastel pink notebook. You’re not sure when you started bringing it around with you, but the Love Pages have become your good luck charm. You feel naked without it in your possession.   No one notices when you push aside your biology textbook. When you flip it open. When you take your pencil and begin scribbling names inside.   Kim Namjoon       Park Jihyo   There’s a reason this notebook fell into your lap and you’re not going to let it go to waste. Out of everyone you know, Jihyo deserves her feelings to be reciprocated. And you’ll play cupid if that’s what it takes.   Swiftly, the notebook is closed and you slide it back into your backpack.    A beat later, your best friend is returning and colour is drained from her face. She plops down in her desk chair, the seat in front of yours.   “Jihyo?” She looks like she’s seen a ghost and you’re alarmed, wondering if something went wrong. “What happened?”   “Namjoon...he….he….” She blinks hard. “He just asked me out…?”   “What?” Your head whips across the classroom where said boy is smiling at your friend. You didn’t know the effects of the Pages are so instantaneous. “When? Right now?”   She nods after a delayed second and a smile spreads into your face. You try to keep your squeals down before it collects the attention of the rest of the class. “Oh my god, Jihyo! I’m so happy for you!”   Her brows furrow. “I don’t get it….it came out of nowhere….”   “Does it matter?” You grab your best friend’s hands. “You’re going on a date with Kim Namjoon!”   “I am. I...am!” Your best friend finally looks you in the eye, giddy at the idea. “I need to go shopping!”   //   “—and then she came back and told me that he asked her out!” You’re smiling from ear to ear, twirling around to face Jimin as he watches you with a smile. You don’t think it’s possible that you could be any happier than this. Not only do you have Jimin by your side, but you’ve granted both your brother and your best friend their wishes. “They’re going to catch a movie this weekend, I think.”   “You’re so excited,” he laughs. “Sounds like you’re the one going on the date.”   “Jihyo’s liked Namjoon for so long. I’m just happy for her.”   “You spend a lot of time with Jihyo, huh?” Jimin comments as you come to a stop at the light, waiting for the pedestrian signal to come on.   “She’s my only friend,” you admit with a small smile, reminiscing over the years. Your steps sync with Jimin’s again. “My best friend. We’ve been through thick and thin.”   “I’m jealous,” your boyfriend squeezes your hand, eyes glimmering. “I want you all to myself.”   You lightly scoff at his flirtation and his smile only widens until you let go of your interlaced hands to open the mailbox in front of your house. But unfortunately, there’s nothing inside. No acceptance or even rejection letters from any colleges or universities like you were anticipating.   There’re no bills or advertisement pamphlets either which probably means your dad’s home from work and beaten you to the punch.   “Well, I’ll call you later then, Jimi—”   “Can I come in?” he asks, eyes twinkling with hope. You’re taken aback and glance over your shoulder, not sure if introducing your boyfriend to your parents so soon is a good idea. While you know they try their hardest, your parents can be extremely overbearing. They tend to bombard anyone you talk to with a million questions, yet somehow, they’re still out of touch with your life.    Your relationship with your parents isn’t spectacular to say the least. But when Jimin takes a step forward with confidence, you have a feeling that they’ll like him as much as you do.    After all, who doesn’t like Jimin?   And you’re not wrong.   “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He dips his head in greeting, tone respectful as he stands in the foyer of your home. Your mom’s brows are raised to her hairline while your dad is seemingly sizing him up. “My name is Park Jimin. I’m Y/N’s classmate.”   “Actually, he’s my boyfriend,” you clarify, deciding to be straightforward with it and your parents exchange expressions.   But within minutes, you know they’ve fallen for him too.   “Oh dear, you’re on the soccer team as well?”   Jimin nods. “I’ve been playing since elementary, but I’m not that great at it.”   “That’s a blatant lie,” you object while sticking your head from the kitchen into the living room where they’re seated. “Jimin’s the star of the soccer team.”   “That’s very remarkable,” your father notes with stars practically in his eyes. You have to hold back laughter just watching them. “How do you manage to be so studious, keep up such great grades, maintain a social life and play sports at the same time?”   “I’m not as impressive as it sounds,” Jimin laughs shyly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just do a little every day. I think having supportive parents help a lot and having Y/N around does too. She’s always supported me, even before we got together, so I owe her a lot.”   Their smiles are bright, bodies relieved and you match Jimin’s soft smile. Any nervousness of having Jimin meet your family vanishes like it never even existed. And for a moment, you imprint the scene in front of you in the forefront of your brain. You wonder if your future will someday look like this — Jimin sitting across from your parents in your family home.   “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jimin?” your mother asks and he enthusiastically nods.   //   Life is perfect.   “You’ll come to my game, right?”   “Of course, I will!”   The days and weeks are flying by fast, and you’re getting closer and closer to graduation. It’s hectic but a busyness that isn’t tiring — not when you’re enjoying every moment of it.   “And the winner of the final soccer match of this season goes to Daykey High!”   Cheers erupt from the stands and as you shoot up with your own hollers, Jimin whips his body around after being dogpiled on by his teammates and grins. He races up the stands when he gets a chance, engulfs you in his embrace and gives you a sweaty kiss full of vigour that has you smiling.   Months ago, you would’ve never known your last months of high school would be spent so perfectly. It feels like a dream come true, like your biggest desires have been granted.   “Jimin!”   “What?”   “Are you going to come, dude? We’ve missed you at like five hangouts so far. C’mon, this one’s gonna be the last one, you have to come.”   “Nah.” He grabs his duffle bag. “Sorry, guys. I'll probably have to back out of this one too. Can’t leave my girlfriend waiting.”   “What’s going on, Chim?” The soccer captain steps forward with his brows furrowed. “This isn’t like you.”   “What do you mean?” Jimin laughs. “Nothing’s going on.”   Another snorts and slings an arm over his shoulder. “You got it bad for your girl, don’t you?”   Jimin’s sheepish when he admits it. “She’s the only one for me.”   Sometimes you’re frightened that you’ll wake up one morning and find that everything you’ve been living through was really just a dream. But time and time again, you open your eyes to see the pastel pink notebook on your desk. And it’s a reminder that it’s what brought you all this joy.    The Love Pages made this possible.   “H-Hey, Jimin.” Seulgi lingers outside the locker room, struggling to meet his eye as she teeters from side to side. “Congratulations on winning.”   “Thanks! It was a tough game, but I’m glad we pulled through.”   “Yeah...well..um…I—.”   “I’ll see you around?” Jimin smiles and Seulgi nods after a delayed second. They exchange small smiles full of distant politeness, but as Jimin turns to catch up to you, his expression grows genuine.   You hope this lasts forever.   //   “Hey, Jihyo….”   “What.”   “How are your eyes so beautiful?” Namjoon mutters and the girl busy with her paper turns her head to glare at him. The corner of his mouth curls and he hums, “I wonder how I’ll go on without you. I might miss you to death.”   She scoffs, unwavered by the greasy lines. “Get your ass to class before you’re late.”   Namjoon grins and as he gets up, grabbing his bag with him, he makes sure to plant a surprise kiss to the top of her head. The gawky boy laughs at his partner’s scandalized expression and takes his leave.    In the meanwhile, the smile itching up your features finally reveals itself and you march across the library floor to plop down into the seat that Namjoon had occupied. “You two lovebirds really need a room.”   Jihyo makes a noise of acknowledgment at the back of her throat.   “How did the fourth date go?”   “What? Oh yeah. It was fine.” Her response is short and you chalk it up to her merely concentrating on finishing her assignment, but after a minute, Jihyo lifts her chin and looks at you. “Hey, Y/N.”    “What?”   “Do you think Namjoon’s off somehow?”   “What do you mean?”   “I know him.” Jihyo pauses. “Namjoon would rather die than say something as cheesy as he just did.”   You loll your head to one side and shrug. “I don’t know. Love changes people, Jihyo. You should stop overthinking it and just let yourself be loved.”   She blinks and hums, returning back to her work.   //   The library is becoming quieter and quieter as summer arrives. Jihyo doesn’t blame everyone for preferring to spend their remaining days outside with their friends than hanging out in a place surrounded by bookshelves and studying for exams. But if anything, it makes her job easier.   There are fewer books to shelve, fewer people to attend to and less to clean up.   With only a student here or there, she’s able to savour the last shifts of library duty left.   “Joon.”   “Hmmm?”   Not to mention, no one really bats a lash with her boyfriend hanging around beside her.    Ever since they started dating officially, Namjoon’s been glued to her side. But Jihyo doesn’t mind. The company and conversations are welcome. Even the librarian finds him endearing.   “When did you become interested in me?”   Namjoon is seemingly perplexed by the question and their eyes meet as they stand between the thin aisle between two looming bookcases. “I don’t know. One moment, everything was fine and then the next, I started feeling this way.”   Jihyo’s frowns. “Suddenly?”   “It was a bit weird for me too, but then I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It...hit me and it was intense, so I asked you out.” His smile softens, dimples creased into each side of his cheek. “Why?”   Jihyo sighs and shakes her head. “No reason. It just seemed like you never liked me like that before or at least you never hinted at it.”   “That’s true. I saw you as just a friend for the longest time.” Namjoon leans in, his smile sweet towards his girlfriend. “Is that such a bad thing?”   Jihyo scoffs lightly but then shakes her head with a tiny smile.    Maybe you’re right. Maybe she is overthinking it.   “I just have to get used to it.”   It’s that same afternoon that Jihyo walks home by herself — Namjoon busy with his other clubs and unable to accompany her. She doesn’t mind much, actually finding solace in her alone time.    But Jihyo’s mind wanders and she realizes it’s been a long time since she’s hung out with you outside of class or library duty. Jimin’s monopolized you these days and as happy as she is to watch you giddy, she misses her best friend.   4:38 pm. Jihyo: wanna go out for ice cream or something   4:39 pm. Y/N: hell yeah!!! :D 4:39 pm. Y/N: omw home 4:39 pm. Y/N: wanna meet up there?   Jihyo smiles to herself and turns down the familiar street to your house.    The school’s boundary lines are narrow, so most of the students live in the same small neighbourhood. And considering that Jihyo’s been your friend since grade six, she’s no stranger to your house, the white mailbox, the gate, and the small yard that the pair of you used to play on.   They’re all nostalgic memories to her.   “About time!” she calls out when she sees you.   You laugh, quickening your strides. “It only took me five minutes!”   “On another date with Jimin?”   Jihyo follows after you, through the door and up the stairs to your room. It’s quiet which only means your mom’s running errands and your dad’s not home from work yet.   “We just went to a bookstore and grabbed food.”   She laughs and drops her backpack by your bed. “Can you eat ice-cream then?”   “Don’t you know there’s always room for dessert?” You grin while patting your stomach. “Speaking of which, I need to take a leak before we leave. Be right back.”   She snorts and pulls out her phone to check her usual apps. But there’s nothing much to see aside from the string of heart emojis that Namjoon sends for no reason. She rolls her eyes, but smiles to herself.   Namjoon’s an idiot. But he should be lucky he’s a cute one.   Jihyo boredly wanders to your desk, eyes falling upon the shell pink container. She holds the candle up, glad that you actually liked the birthday present enough to burn half of it. Then she sets it down and picks up the lighter, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks.   She puts it down, looks over the polaroids you have strung on the wall, and then her eyes stray to a crime novel you have pushed on the side of your desk.   Jihyo smiles to herself in amusement. She didn’t know you picked up reading recently.   Curious, she flips it over to read the synopsis of the book, but then something underneath catches her eye.   A baby pink notebook.   The Love Pages.   Her brows furrow and she discards the crime novel to the side in favour of the magnetizing pull coming from the notebook. She’s curious. Her intuition forces her to look.    Jihyo turns the notebook over, and she becomes more and more bewildered as she reads the rules. As she reads the warning. Then, she flips it open. At the same time you return.   “J-Jihyo?”   You’re frozen at the door.   “Y/N. What is this?”   “Nothing.”  �� You damn yourself for not putting the notebook in the drawer, for not bringing it with you like you so often do. You forgot about taking it with you this morning when you were in a rush to get ready and now you’re paying the price for your mistake.   You take two wide strides across the floor to snatch—   But Jihyo’s grip remains firm.   She doesn’t let you rip the notebook from her hands. Her tight hold crinkles the corners of the pages.   “Y/N.” Jihyo’s eyes meet yours. Cold. Firm. “What is this?”   You release your sigh and your arm comes to your side. “Remember when we were cleaning out the storage room of the library two months ago? I found it there and it works. I know it’s hard to believe, but it works, Jihyo.”   It takes a second for the words to sink in.   But then it hits Jihyo like a freight train, slamming into her form, smashing into her brain. She doesn’t want to believe it — not when it’s so outrageous and outlandish — but it all clicks.   Everything finally makes sense.   “Is this….how you got Namjoon to go out with me?” Her pupils trace his name on the lined paper and then the straight lines of her own name. Jihyo looks up at you, colour drained from her face. She whispers as if someone could overhear, “Is this how you got Jimin to go out with you?”   “I wrote it as a joke first.” Your voice is pitched as you frantically explain, “but then Jimin started to pay attention to me and the next day, he even asked me out! I...I didn’t think it worked but then Hoseok came home and he was about to get divorced, Jihyo. It was really bad. But I wrote their names in and they’re fine now. See? It works and it’s a good thing!”   She shakes her head slowly, connecting the dots.   “You wrote my name in it...and you didn’t even ask me.”   “I know and I’m sorry.” Your palms are clammy. You’re not sure why she’s so upset with you, why she’s giving you such a horrified look as if you did something so wrong. “But I didn’t know if you would believe me and since it worked, I thought...why not.”   “Why not?! You didn’t ask for my consent! I didn’t want this! I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!”   “What do you mean you didn’t want this?” It’s your turn to be upset — if anything, you did Jihyo a favour. You were looking out for her as her friend. “You liked Namjoon for the longest time! I did this for you!”   “This isn’t what I wanted!” Jihyo’s voice is shrill and you flinch. “This is so wrong, Y/N. This is so fucked.”   “How? We got what we wanted, didn’t we?!”   “But have you ever thought about the other side?! Have you ever thought about them?” she asks, coming face to face with you. “You’ve made everything artificial! Why would you go against their will and control them like this?”   “It’s not against their will!”   “It is!” Jihyo screams, voice straining in her throat. “Namjoon only saw me as a friend and nothing more, and Jimin didn’t even know you!”   Her words reverberate in your ears.    Jimin didn’t even know you.   Your fist curls as you tremble. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as tears threaten at your lash line. You can’t believe she just said that, that she can be so ungrateful. She doesn’t get it. And you thought out of anyone, Jihyo would be the one who would understand you most.   “How do you get rid of it?” she demands, thrusting the notebook to your face. “How?!”   “You….have to erase the names.”   “Then fucking do it!”   “Fine! Move!” You push her aside and press the book to your desk, grabbing the pencil that nearly rolls off.    You take the eraser end and rub her name and Namjoon’s from the paper. Fine. If she wants you to erase it, you’ll erase it. But you know she’ll come running back to you to write it in again.   You scrub the names hard enough that the shiny surface of the paper dulls. Hard enough that the pink eraser bits fill the page. That your hand physically hurts.   You show her when you’re done.   “There. Happy?”   “Erase Jimin’s name.”   “What?” By sheer instincts, you pull back and press the notebook to you. “No.”   “Y/N. This is crazy. This is so wrong. You’re violating your morals for—”   “I have no morals,” you cut her off. She can yell at you, shame you, make you erase what you did for her. But you draw the line here. “Don’t you realize, Jihyo? You said it yourself. Jimin never looked twice at me. And I know he would’ve never asked me out. He would’ve never gone on that date, he would’ve never made me his girlfriend. He would’ve never told me he loves me.”   “Y/N—”   “I’ve never been loved or looked at like this before.” You swallow hard, eyes stinging, the lump in your throat makes it hard to talk. Most of all, your heart aches. “For the first time in my life, I’ve actually had someone like me back. For the first time in my life, I’ve had someone love me like that. Without this notebook, it would’ve been impossible.”   “But you can’t force him—”   “I’m not forcing him to do anything!” Blood curdles at the back of your throat. You wish someone else was in the house, then they could rush upstairs and take Jihyo away from you. Away from threatening your happiness. “That’s not how the Love Pages works!”   She steps forward, arm extending. “Then if that’s true, erase his name.”   You flinch away from her. “I will never erase Jimin’s name!”   “Y/N!” — “Leave me alone!”   You try to push past her, but Jihyo grabs the notebook.   Your attempt to rip it from her grip and shove her away is ultimately futile. Jihyo’s grabbed hold of the edge and she’s not letting go. In your desperation, you catch a fistful of her hair and she stomps on your foot, shouting ‘bitch!’ at you. You cry aloud, wonder why it’s so hard for you to be happy.   You love him.   Your hands are slipping, but you untangle your fingers from Jihyo’s head and manage to seize the cover with your right hand. The notebook flips open, papers dangling downwards between your struggle.    Jihyo screams for you to let go, that this is crazy, but you ignore her. She knows nothing.   You love Jimin. And all you want is for him to love you back.   The pair of you yank back and forth. When it looks like you’re about to win, Jihyo snags a page near the back. And it rips as you snatch it towards you.   The paper tears.   You both stumble to the ground from the force of your grasps.   Your own hand slams into your mouth, bruising your lip. Jihyo across from you has her hair in a disarray and you’re horrified to find her holding her eye. She cusses again, tone venomous.   The notebook falls beside you, the empty white page fluttering in between.   It’s silent as you two hyperventilate. Then Jihyo stands. She brushes past you, roughly grabbing her bag.   “Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.”   The girl stomps out and you don’t look behind you. You don’t race after her, tell her to wait, explain that there’s a misunderstanding. Because there isn’t. You already said your piece.   You allow the slamming of the front door to echo. But you do get up to watch her from the window. She acts like this is your fault, that you did something so horrible to her when what you did for her was a miracle.   She’s the ungrateful bitch. Self-righteous in the dumbest ways. And you hope she never comes back.   //   Even when your anger has subsided, you know there are certain things that can’t be forgiven.   Jihyo ignores you when you glance in her direction, when you move past her, when you stand in front of her. At school and lunch, she hangs out with the other girls, never once sparing you a look or the friendly smile she gives to her new friends. And it’s a change that others notice.   “Is everything okay?” your classmate asks curiously. “Did you and Jihyo have a fight or something?”   Your bruised lip and the skin around her eye blossomed blue speaks for itself.   “Something like that.” You muster a smile. “But I’m fine.”   “Oh. Well, make up soon then.”   But you highly doubt that’ll happen.    If she wants to be a bitch, then you can be one too. You can ignore her. You can pretend she doesn’t exist…..   But unlike Jihyo, it’s always been harder for you to be cold. Not when you’ve spent so many years and made countless memories together. So you’re unable to resist when Namjoon comes by during the last shift of your library duty — one that you know she’s arranged to be absent at.   “Do you know where she is?”   Yet, the tall brunette merely shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t. Jihyo...actually broke up with me yesterday, so….yeah….”   “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry to hear that, Namjoon.”   He smiles. “It’s okay. It was pretty mutual.”   You watch him leave, not batting a single lash, without a single trace of heartbreak on his features and then you divert your vision. You know things will never be the same for them again.   Jihyo and Namjoon might never become as friendly as they were prior to their relationship. But you also know she’s wrong. You never forced Jimin to do anything. You didn’t force him to have feelings for you. That’s not how the Love Pages works—   “BOO!”   A hand comes down on your shoulder and a scream tears out of your throat as you spin around. You nearly fall on the ground from startlement, but Jimin latches onto your wrist, stabilizing you.   “Y-You almost scared me to death!”   “Sorry, sorry.” Your boyfriend laughs. “I didn’t know you would be so scared.”   “Don’t do that again,” you scold, heart rate steadying. “How long were you even following me for?”   “Not that long. You seemed a bit off. I had to make sure you got home safe and didn’t talk to anyone else.” Jimin syncs his steps into yours, familiar with the route you take home after accompanying you so many times. But as silence simmers between the pair of you, he takes notice. Jimin slips his hand into yours, slowing down. “Y/N. What’s wrong?”   You shake your head, words caught in your throat. You don’t know what to say, where to start, what you can tell him. How he’d even react. And it’s all too overwhelming for you to bear.   Against your will, you burst into tears.    The tsunami of emotions — anger, sorrow, regret — they clog your chest and shed in the form of teardrops. It hangs on your lashes, drips down your cheeks, clouds your vision. And the only comfort you receive is when Jimin reaches out, guiding your head to his shoulder.   “J-Jihyo….she….she hates me…”   You hang onto him, tight fists clutching onto Jimin’s jacket.    You were scared — scared when your only friend turned their back against you and found others to replace you so quickly, frightened when you realized just how isolated you are, petrified when you had a taste of what it’s like to walk the halls alone, to eat alone, to sit alone. To be alone. To be abandoned.    If Jimin leaves too, you’ll truly have no one.   “It’s okay,” he hums, locking you in a secure embrace. “You don’t need anyone but me.”   Jimin consoles you without needing to be asked. He soothes you and says the things you’ve yearned to hear since yesterday. You return his hug, quieting your sobs and strengthening your resolve.   You can’t give him up.   //   You’re not sure why it took you so long to realize what is and isn’t important. In a blink of an eye, the entire world seems to have shifted. The things — people — you treasured can so easily throw you away and all this time, you didn’t know. You’ve been played. Time wasted.   “Y/N, are you home?” your mom calls from the kitchen as the front door shuts and she stumbles out with a frown. “You’re later than usual today. Were you with someone? Jihyo?”   “I was with Jimin,” you sigh, kicking off your shoes.   “Where did you go?”   “Nowhere. We just talked.”   “About what?”   “Nothing! God, can you stop asking me questions?!” You stomp up the stairs.   Your mother exhales in frustration and calls after you, “Well get yourself looking nice! Your brother and Irene are coming over for dinner tonight! Are you listening to me?! Don’t ignore me, Y/N!”   But you do ignore her as you zip to your room and shut the door.    Finally, you’re able to get a moment of peace and quiet, and once it settles, you take two large strides across your room. You swiftly slip the Love Pages out of your backpack and into the bottom drawer of your desk. Without blinking, you grab the half-burnt pink candle and dump it into the bin.   I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!   Your bottom lip trembles but your determination hardens as you begin tearing off the strung polaroids on your wall. You’re suffocated just looking at them.   Bitch!   Your sixteenth birthday spent with Jihyo — sleepovers in seventh grade — summers spent at summer camp. You rip the photographs all off and they follow the candle in the trash.   Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.   An unpleasant feeling sits at the pit of your stomach and you flop down onto your bed. You shut your eyes before being plagued by the moment she turns her back, how she passes by the hall, giggling with other classmates. They’re moments played over and over until you feel nauseous.   “It’s fine,” you mutter to yourself and repeat, “It’s fine.”   You’re graduating soon. You can finally get away from here. You can move far away, to a university out of the city.   You open your eyes to stare at the ceiling, tears stinging. And you inhale a staggering breath.   Soon. You can go with Jimin and the two of you can vanish together. You’ll never have to think about your lost best friend or what you did. You can leave the Love Pages behind.

It’s a permanent turning point.   Your friendship with Jihyo never mends or is even a topic of conversation. Sometimes, you can feel her looking at you from the corner of her eye as if she’s judging you for the secret she knows. One she’s aware no one would believe her for, but that you both know what you did.   You don’t speak to each other, merely passing by in the same spaces and no one asks. After all, friends drift apart all the time. Everyone merely finds a new normal and so do you.   Jimin becomes your new best friend.    Sometimes, you eat lunch with his friends. Sometimes, it’s solely with him. The two of you continue going on dates and when you’re not, it’s conversations through text or shy talks on the phone.   And sometimes—   “C’mon, no one’s home.”   “Yeah, but what if your mom returns and finds me in her son’s bedroom? That would be a bad look.”   He laughs. “I promise she won’t. And even if she did, she’d still love you.”   “I don’t know about that, Jimin.”   “I’ll still love you and that’s what’s important, right?”    Jimin pulls you into his cozy house and before you know it, your back is pressed against his soft sheets as he hovers over you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. No teasing words are spoken when the boy leans down to capture his lips with yours.    It’s an eager kiss where you’re able to relish in the softness and the warmth of Jimin’s skin. Your arms automatically loop around his torso and you feel his smile against you. Jimin steals all the breath from your lungs and you’re left gasping as his mouth trails from your jaw to your neck.   “J-Jimin,” you pant his name with swollen lips, leaning into his touch.   “I missed you.”   “What’d yo..u mean? I saw you today.”   “Seeing isn't enough.” His mouth sucks into the juncture of your neck, marking it red to his liking and knowing it’ll bloom blue. Jimin lifts himself and smiles tenderly. “Tell me you’re mine, Y/N.”   His gaze is soft, full of affection and endearment, and it swells your heart.   “I’m yours.”   “That’s right. You’re mine,” he whispers and kisses you again. He fiddles with the hem of your plush sweater and not long after, he’s tugging your camisole down.   Sometimes you stay in Jimin’s bed, limbs tangled with one another’s. Other times, he’s busy with soccer practice and you come home by yourself—   “Huh, did someone….move my cardigan?”    You frown, wondering why it’s draped over the back of your chair and not the bed. Maybe your mom was trying to clean up for you again.   “Hello?” you call, poking your head out your door. There isn’t an answer.    You scoff to yourself, wondering what you were expecting.   Anyway, life for the most part is normal again. With Jimin by your side, he’s become a pillar of your strength and a reason for your resiliency. He is the many of your firsts. And he makes you look forward to even better days.   “Hey. Jimin?”   “Hmm?”   The pair of you are laying in his small bed and you shift your head to find him gazing at you with tender eyes and a softened smile. It tickles your own lips and you stare at him — his brown kaleidoscopic irises, his dark strands of hair nearly pricking into them.   It’s quiet in his house with his parents gone and the fuzzy afternoon sunlight casting through the window makes you sleepy. If you don’t blink, you can spot the specs of dust floating in the air.   “What are you thinking about?”   “Nothing much.” Your voice is a murmur and you inhale gently, senses filled with Jimin’s comforting scent. “Do you think...you would’ve loved me before this school year?”   “Of course, I would.” Jimin smiles as if you’re silly. “We’re meant to be.”   He twines his hand with yours, fingers interlaced, and your sleepy smile stretches into cheeks.   But Jihyo’s cursed you. She’s done the worst possible thing.   She’s planted a seed in your mind. A seed of doubt. And it’s sprouted, taken root, embedded and coiled deep enough that you can’t tug it out. Even beautiful moments like these, you’re plagued by her words. You can't help wondering if this is really Jimin or the Love Pages’ doing.    It’s chilly one night as you’re walking by yourself, going home from the convenient store down several blocks. The street lights are bright, illuminating both your figure and casting your shadow on the brick.    But then you halt. Feet against the asphalt. Turning around.   You swear, you felt eyes—   Ring. Your phone rings suddenly and you jolt in startlement. You fumble before pulling it out and pressing it to your ear.    “Hello?” You continue walking, except this time, your steps quicken. “Jimin?”    “What’re you doing?”   “Nothing,” you exhale, feeling comforted with him on the other line. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”   He laughs boyishly and you smile to yourself, practically able to hear his grin.    Jimin sighs quietly, “Why does that make me feel happy?”   “Did you finish running errands with your dad? Where are you?”   “I’m always with you,” he quips playfully and you roll your eyes.    It’s a joke, but as you peek over your shoulder, unsettlement sticks in your stomach. It feels like you’re always being watched.   //   “Jimin.” You stare up at the popcorn ceiling of his room, eyes running over the pointed ridges and dips, and drawing constellations from your imagination. “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?”   He turns his head, having been folding his laundry on the floor. “What do you mean?”   “The other night, I was grabbing something for my dad at the convenient store and while I was walking home, it felt like….someone was watching me.”   “Was there?” he asks.   “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone.”   “Maybe you’re just being paranoid,” Jimin comforts with a small smile and finishes folding his last shirt. He comes up on the bed and you make room for him to lay next to you. “Or maybe it’s your guardian angel protecting you.”   You scoff. “What guardian angel?”   “Me,” he giggles softly and reads your expression. “Would that be so bad?”   Your brows furrow and you go silent. Blood drains from your face and confusion makes your head dizzy. It’s outrageous to ask, but you do so— “Were you the one following me, Jimin?”   He hums, “Maybe.”   Instantly, you push your boyfriend’s hand away that was playing with your hair and you sit up. “I’m being serious.”   Jimin follows after you, getting up. “I don’t get why you’re so upset.”   “It’s weird! You’re stalking me!”   “I’m protecting you,” he corrects and his voice softens. “I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N. I see people on the news getting kidnapped all the time. I just…I don’t want you to be taken away or put in danger. I don’t think I could live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t around to help.”   You press your palms against your forehead, not knowing where to even begin.   After a beat, your voice croaks, “How long have you been doing this for?”   Jimin shrugs. “A while.”   His intentions might come from a good place, but it makes you nauseous to think about how Jimin’s been following you. How he’s been tracing your steps, watching you from behind. And you didn’t even know.   You don’t want to ask what else he’s done.   “I’m not going to get hurt, Jimin. You don’t need to follow me like that.”   “But you don’t know when something might happen. No one knows. I just want to be there for you.”   Your thoughts are in a disarray, not sure how you should even reason with him. Shouldn’t it be common sense?   At your ongoing silence, Jimin reaches out to hug you. But you stand, slipping away from his arms.   “I think I need to go home.”   “Wait. Y/N.” Jimin’s agile and swift, capturing your wrist in his hand before you’ve grabbed your bag. He stops you in your tracks. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry!”   “I just need a moment by myself, okay?” You try to shake him off. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”   “Please. Don’t leave me,” his voice drops into a trembling whisper and your head whips around. Your eyes meet his, teary and shaking. Jimin suddenly gets onto his knees, cradling your hand in both of his hands and pressing it to his nose as if he’s praying. He begs, “Don’t leave me.”   But his affectionate behaviour only serves to freak you out more. It’s more than bizarre and you quickly tear your hand back, pulling it to your chest and out of his grip. “You’re not being yourself, Jimin.”   You grab your bag, turning around and making it to the door—   “I love you!” he declares loudly, startling you. His sheer desperation radiates waves and you turn around with wide eyes. Jimin looks like he’s in the midst of a break down. “You’re mine! Is it so wrong to look after you like this? I did it because I love you. I love you, Y/N.”    You clutch your bag against your body and divert your vision away from the boy.   “Then...promise me you won’t do that again,” you murmur after a handful of uncomfortable seconds have passed, “I’m safe and fine. Secretly following me is excessive and it makes me…..uncomfortable.”   Jimin begrudgingly nods.   You slowly close the distance and hug him, allowing him to sniffle into your shoulder. He’s fine with letting you leave after the pair of you have made up. Yet, when you arrive home the next day, you swear you feel eyes on your backside.   It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong when you haven’t noticed before.   But once you lock the front door and make it to your room, you nimbly peek out the window.   You catch Jimin standing across the street, expressionless.   //   The situation isn’t mentioned again in fear of another dramatic confrontation, but it dwells. A disturbing discomfort weighs on your shoulders and every sweet call of your name on his lips is startling. You’re not sure why you’re like this, how you can go back to how it used to be, when a mere glance from Jimin had your heart soaring and the butterflies in your tummy tickling.   It feels like the rose filter of your eyes have rubbed off. And that you’ve found out the world is darker than the pink shades you previously saw it as.   You leave the bathroom, hands still a bit damp in spite of drying them—   And you flinch when you see dark strands, brown irises and rounded cheeks standing in the hallway, leaning against the lockers.    Jimin smiles. “You’re about to have lunch, right?”   You nod.   “I was thinking we could eat together today.”   “With your friends?”   “No. Just us.” As the two of you walk, Jimin slings an arm around your shoulders. It feels heavy instead of warm and comforting. It’s quiet too, until he breaks it. “Have you been avoiding me, Y/N?”   You shake your head.   “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be distant.” He lovingly presses his head to yours, nuzzling into your hair. “That’s not what a good girlfriend does.”   You swallow hard. The food ends up tasting like nothing.   This isn’t right. This isn’t the boy next door you fell in love with years ago. Obsessive, controlling, a crazed look in his eye, desperate enough to beg on his knees — this isn’t Jimin.   And you know the cause.    You know why and how this happened. But you can’t bear to acknowledge the truth. Even when you’ve been plunged so deep, you still want to savour this a little longer.    This impossibility. This dream that you’ve been granted.   Tears fill your eyes and you gaze at him. Your boyfriend notices your softened expression that searches his face and he smiles, lifting his hand to pat your head.    He prepares to walk off to class, but you take the leap while diverting your eyes.   “Jimin. A-After graduation…...we need to talk.”   His hand comes to curl around your wrist, firm enough that you can’t escape from. His voice drops an octave. “Are you breaking up with me?”   You shake your head. “I’m going to tell you the truth.”   Jimin’s brows furrow hard and he leans in close. “What’s the truth?”   “I’ll tell you afterwards. Just wait a little longer,” you plead, “be patient with me. Please. I love you.”   He stares and then nods.   Jimin embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to console the turmoil bubbling underneath your skin. No one’s around to witness the intimate moment, so you allow yourself to savour it. “I love you too. I won’t ever let you go.”   You nod against him. And you really hope what he says is true.   You hope he loves you for you and not because it’s the effect of the Love Pages.   //   “I’m home!” you call out and shut the door. But instead of hearing your dad’s greeting or your mother’s nagging, there’s a smooth timbre coming from the living room that’s all too familiar. It raises the goosebumps around your arms and you stalk the noise, feet sliding against the floor.   “—thinking of maybe renting an apartment—”   “Jimin?” You stop in your tracks, bewildered at the sight of him sitting on the couch with your parents across from him, mugs and half-empty glasses of water on the coffee table in between. “W-What are you doing here?”   “Oh, sit down! Jimin’s just discussing your plans with us,” your mom says with an endeared smile. “I didn’t know the two of you had so many arrangements for after you graduate, Y/N!”   “You should’ve kept us in the loop,” your dad states with a satisfied smile.   You swallow hard, approaching on weak knees and collapsing beside your boyfriend.   “I’m going to the same university as you are,” Jimin informs with a proud smile, hands knitted together and posture straight. He’s the picture perfect son-in-law, an image crafted to perfection.   “What? I mean….h-how do you even know what school I’m going to?”   “I saw the acceptance letter, silly.” Jimin smiles. “I can’t believe you hid it from me.”   “It was supposed to be a surprise!” you lie frantically, in a rush and spilling out the sentence before your brain can catch up. And once it does, you add in a laugh and quirk your head to the side. “I was waiting for you to get your round of acceptance letters.”   Jimin believes you and apologizes for ruining the surprise to which you brush off and tell him it’s okay, that it isn’t a big deal. The crisis is averted until he presents another idea—   “We should probably move in together. I’ll have to move out anyway and you will too.”   Your mouth opens but your mother exclaims, “That’s a great idea! Jimin’s a good boy who will protect you, Y/N. It’ll make me feel a lot better about you moving so far away.”   Jimin smiles.   He stays for dinner and your mom fusses about to make sure his stomach is stuffed with her home cooking while your dad reminisces and tells old stories. But you don’t hear anything or taste the food you’ve grown sick of. It’s bland and white noise buzzes against your eardrums—   “Y/N.” Jimin slips a hand on top of yours and you flinch before catching yourself. “Y/N. What’s wrong?”   “Nothing.” You realize your parents have left the table. “I’m fine.”   But you fail to notice how Jimin stops smiling when you turn away.   //   The long awaited day arrives on a brisk morning.   You’ve imagined it countless times before — when your head was laid on your desk, when your face was buried in your textbook, when your hand hurt from gripping your pencil. Graduation is the liberation day, another step to moving forward. After years of schooling, it marks another end and another beginning.    You always envisioned getting ready with Jihyo, looking at Jimin from faraway, being swept by the crowds and walking away without too many regrets.   In many ways, your fantasy is better and worse in reality.   It’s worse in the ways that Jihyo doesn’t look at you.    When you call her name, catch up to her, she doesn’t so much as acknowledge who you are. She doesn’t even say her last goodbyes. She doesn’t promise to keep in touch. It’s uncomfortable, for you and those around who witness. Your parents aren’t one of them, but they bombard you with questions when you tell them not to call out to her. Questions you beg them not to ask.   Jihyo doesn’t even give you the chance to admit your mistakes. So you let her be.   You’re not sure what you expected when she’s the master of holding grudges. All you know is that until the end, you did your part on trying to make amends. The rest is on her.   You hope she doesn’t regret it.   Nevertheless, there are silver linings.    Instead of having to peek at Jimin through the masses, of having him accidentally in the background of pictures, he’s by your side. Your crush is yours to call, yours to hold.   But a weight still dwells on the back of your mind. As time passes, you know it’s getting worse and worse. He’s becoming less like Jimin and more like a person you no longer recognize. He’s grown distant with his friends as he solely focuses on you — calling you, texting you, asking where you are, telling you how excited he is to move in with you and how you’ll finally be together.   And the more Jimin surrounds himself with you, the more sure you become.   You have to erase his name from the Love Pages. Even if you don’t want to.   There are consequences of the Pages. You’ve stared at the papers, the names, the rules enough to know. The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Love Pages will be. The less compatible a couple is, the more undesired consequences will arise.   And this is a consequence.   If Jimin’s worsening obsession is because of the Love Pages, then you need to stop it. You have to vanquish your doubts about him being with you before this future together begins.   You want him to love you for you.   “Y/N! What are you doing standing there? Move in!”   Hoseok is holding his phone to his face, camera open and ready to capture a picture of you and Jimin together. Irene stands beside him with an enormous grin, temporarily holding the bouquet of flowers they gifted to you. In the meanwhile, your parents and Jimin’s are chatting away.   “Okay! Perfect! Ready? One, two three!”   Your smile is stiff.    No matter how hard you try to maintain it, it twitches and never reaches your eyes.   When it’s done, Jimin holds your hand and pulls you to his family.    Jimin’s dad is friendly and open while his mom is more soft-spoken, but her features are reminiscent of Jimin's. You’re moved when she gives you a bouquet of peonies on top of the flowers Hoseok and Irene, saying how she just bought some from the stand.    “Congratulations, sweetheart.”   “Thank you.”    Jimin playfully pouts. “You didn’t get me any?”    His mom lightly scoffs and bats at him. “You don’t even like flowers.”   “I swear Y/N’s gonna be drowning in them by the end of this,” he sighs and everyone laughs.   Jimin seems so normal on the surface — no one knows what you do.   //   Your heart is thumping against your rib cage hard enough to bruise. It’s violent in your ear drums and you could clap to the rhythm of your pulse if you chose. But unfortunately, it isn’t from excitement. Not the feeling of rushing down a roller coaster or falling infatuated within seconds.   It’s different from the flutter of a first love or the anxiousness of a class presentation.   It’s dread. Hope. Remorse.   The day has come — time is up. You’ve finally managed to pull Jimin aside in the chaos of graduation celebrations, alone in the house with your parents over at your brother’s. There’s no room for disturbances, for interruptions, no way you can back down from the promise you made.   The two of you enter your room and you inhale a deep breath as you turn to face him.   Jimin’s brows are furrowed and he searches your expression. “What is it? What have you been wanting to tell me? You know I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.”   Wordlessly, you stride to your desk, pull the bottom drawer and reach below the file folders. Jimin is solemn as he watches you and you pull out what started this all—   A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’.    You brace yourself, grip tight enough to crinkle the cover. But then you hand it to Jimin.   He deserves to see it for himself.   Jimin takes it, curious and confused. “What is this?”   “You have a right to know what I did, Jimin,” you murmur quietly as he studies the notebook, flips it over, reads the rules, the warning. “I found this notebook by accident and I know I’m going to sound crazy, but it works. Whoever’s name that’s written in it will fall in love with the second written name. And….I-...I wrote your name back in February.”   Jimin’s frown deepens. He flips open the pages.   You’re too ashamed to look at him. Your downcast head avoids his glance.   “I’m sorry,” you snivel and repeat, “I’m sorry.”   You’re not sure how many times will be enough — you don’t think it’ll ever be enough.   “I….I’m the one who made you this way, Jimin. I liked you and I thought this was a joke and that it would be harmless, so I wrote your name in it and it ended up working...and I was so happy for the longest time,” your voice breaks and you realize your cheeks are wet. “But this isn’t you.”   He’s gone completely silent and you swallow hard, the need to explain compulsive.   “The way you’re acting, the person you are when you’re with me, it’s—...it’s a consequence of the Love Pages because we’re not compatible.” You’re sobbing and your heart aches as the words choke out of your closing throat. “And I tried to force something that isn’t compatible. So I’m so...so sorry. I made you lose yourself. I...I shouldn’t have ever done this. So I’m going to erase your name. I’m going to undo all of this, I promise.”   Jimin stares at you, lips in a straight line, eyes dimmed.   “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Y/N,” he starts and you muster the courage to look at him, “If what you say is true and if this notebook made me love you, then it’s the greatest thing to ever exist.”   “What?”   “I got the chance to love you, to be with you when I otherwise wouldn’t have, Y/N.” Jimin’s eyes catch the evening sun through the window and his irises glimmer as the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. “Why would I want to erase my name?”   You shake your head. “This isn’t right, Jimin.”   You’re not sure how he drew this conclusion on his own and you quickly approach, but then Jimin holds the notebook up. He extends his arm high above his head and out of your reach.   “Jimin,” you beg him, “snap out of it.”   “I love you, Y/N. Do you not love me?”   You try to reach up, get closer to the pink notebook held mockingly above you. But Jimin swiftly dodges your attempt and rounds towards the desk. “I love you, Jimin. Trust me. I really do love you. But it shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t have made our relationship artificial.”   “But I love you, Y/N,” he argues, becoming angry. “That’s not artificial!”   “If you love me then p-prove it. Let me erase the names!” You lurch forward, fingertips finally gripping onto the edges, but victory is short an inch.   Jimin grabs it hard enough to wrinkle the entire book and all its pages. He screams, “No! I won’t let you erase it! I love you and I won’t risk falling out of love with you!”   “Stop this, Jimin, please, I’m begging you, let go,” you desperately spew through gritted teeth and it’s all too familiar—   Pushing one another, trying to rip it from his grip, grabbing hold of edges, not letting go.   You’ve once stood in the same spot, having the same fight with Jihyo. And it’s an irony that makes your mouth bitter. She was right — and you wonder if she would laugh if she knew.   But the difference between then and now is that winning twice is harder than once.   Jimin’s backed up against your desk, nearly falling on it but his right hand comes to cushion himself. Though as it does, he feels the objects on your desk. In desperation, he grabs whatever he can to succeed, to perhaps distract you with. And he finds the lighter.    It takes one second.    One for Jimin’s strength to easily overpower yours. For him to yank it hard. For the smooth, pink cover and its white pages filled with endless names to slip from your fingertips.   For Jimin to scrape his thumb across the wheel of the lighter. And for you to hear the flickering flare, the rasping sparks, the quiet hum of the orange flame igniting.   Jimin brings the fire to the notebook.    He burns it, sealing the Love Pages together.   “No!”    Your last attempt to grab it is futile. You’re left to drop to your knees.    The blood-curdling shriek in your ears is unrecognizable until you realize it's yours.    Your pupils reflect the tangerine hue of the fire, the ash of the pages curling together, the soft pink that turns to black cinders fluttering down like Spring cherry blossoms in front of you.    Jimin’s smile is sweet. “The only way to remove my name is to erase it, right? Look, Y/N. This way, we can always be together.”   A tear drips from your lash down your cheeks. Your mouth opens but the sob doesn’t come from your throat already sore from yelling, screaming, apologizing. Instead, you cry like a marble statue shocked in time.   Jimin drops the burning corner of the Love Pages and the last of the binding melts into your carpet. He lowers himself and wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.   “You made me better,” he coos, “the Love pages made me better.”   Jimin sighs and caresses your head gently. “If this is what the issue was then I’m actually relieved. I thought you were going to try to break up with me. This obstacle means nothing to me, Y/N. It means nothing to us.”   He laughs and quickly reassures, “Soon enough, we’ll move away. No one will be able to find us. We can finally get away from….this. All these distractions. I can finally have you all for myself.”   He embraces you, arms wrapped around your body, propping his chin on top of your shoulder and breathing in the scent of your hair.    It’s suffocating.   Your eyes dim.   Jimin’s trapped you. He’s caught you in his web.

You think about running.   Even when he follows you half across the country under the guise of continuing education, you think about running in the middle of the night while he’s asleep. You fantasize about slowly slinking the arm slung around your body off, moving his dead weight from you, or moving during the day when he’s forced to be away.   Before it’s too late. Before it worsens. You can still escape.   But somehow, Jimin always knows where you are.   He texts at night when you’re gone for too long. He calls when you’re at the grocery store to buy certain things he forgot. And you know for a fact, he would track you down and look for you until his last breath if you tried to flee.    But your hesitance is not only because of him. It’s your fault too.   A part of you always stops, with one foot out the door of the apartment and your bag slung over your shoulder in the middle of the night. You’re unable to abandon the faded image of the boy you used to long for. Unable to stop the guilt from overwhelming you that you began this. That you’re the one who reduced him to this crazed state from your own selfishness. And the only way to undo what’s happened to him is gone.   For just a moment, you wanted to be loved.    But what was an innocent wish morphed into a sin you blinded yourself too. All those months ago, had you done nothing, had you sat still, it would’ve never been like this.   And that haunts you.   You can’t bear to abandon Jimin, to try to get away, to call the police and attempt an escape. You can’t make him surrender his entire life, disappoint his family, lose his scholarship, mark his history with red. You can’t make him lose more of himself than what he’s already lost.   Jimin is both the benefit and the consequence you have to shoulder for the choices you made.    “Y/N! Come here!” Your mother rushes you in for a hug and pastes a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it back for your winter break! I missed you so much.”   Jimin shadows you, dragging in the suitcases and your mother smiles at him.    “Jimin! You too! Get in here!” She hugs him as he giggles and pats her back. The festive music plays in the background, your dad, brother and sister-in-law in the living room chatting away.   But you don’t enter the warm room. Rather, you ascend the darkened staircase.   The pitch black envelops your form until you reach for the knob of your old room. The door creaks as it swings open.   Your room is undisturbed, just like you left it except for the thin layer of dust sitting on the furniture. You remember when you sat at the desk, when you knew absolutely nothing.   Stiffly, you take two strides and sit back down on the creaking chair.   You flick the table lamp on and off, watching how it illuminates the space before darkening it again, listening to the click of the button. Then, your eyes travel to the discarded lighter.   You pick it up, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks.   A moment later, you put it down and instinctively from the habits you’ve built, you reach down to tug open the bottom drawer. As if you’ll see the Love Pages reappear. As if the notebook will sit right there as it did for so long. But instead, you notice a folded piece of lined paper tucked at the side.   You take it out, studying the page in a transfixed state.   The lines are a light blue, the white crisp and clean, but it’s completely torn on the side.   You remember.             “Erase Jimin’s name.”   Jihyo all that time ago, tried to convince you to erase his name. You should’ve listened to her then, salvaged your friendship while you still could. But what was left of her and that fight was this page torn out of the Love Pages.    You stare at it. The final evidence of such a notebook ever existing.    And then you’re grabbing the pen on your desk.   The ink bleeds on the page, letters feathering away, but you scratch it hard enough to hear, looping the names onto the paper, knowing it’s permanent—   L/N Y/N       Park Jimin   Jimin shuffles into the room and notices your backside cowering over the desk.   “Sweetheart, is there something wrong? Are you hiding something?”   You turn from the chair and he’s startled from your enormous grin and your brightened eyes. You shake your head and run to him, lurching forward.    “Jimin!”   You throw your arms around his neck and he stumbles back from the impact of your embrace.   “I love you so, so much.” It’s hard to express the feelings that have suddenly devastated you, so you tear yourself from him to kiss him. It’s an eager kiss, one where your mouths smack together, where you’re gripping his sweater, tasting him and trying to get as close as you can but to no avail.    All you’re aware of is the need to have Jimin by your side. You might die without him here.   When you pull away, he’s grinning, happy that you aren’t so distant anymore.   “You love me, right?”   “Of course, I do!” Jimin’s almost upset at the question. “Why would you even ask that?!”    You laugh joyfully, the sound chortling from your throat. Your chest is rising and falling, pupils blown wide as your massive grin makes your cheeks ache. “Then you’re mine.”   “That’s right. I’m yours.”   You embrace Jimin again, arms wrapped tightly around his warm torso as your nose digs into his shoulder and his own arms cage your body. It feels like you’ve been sewn to each other by your skin and the thought makes you even more giddy.   You love him so much, more than the whole world itself.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts yandere #bts yandere AU #I know what you're thinking #two dark Jimin fics in a row??? #yes lol #the schedule ended up working out that way so I hope y'all don't mind #the fluff will soon be returning to my blog

[sugawara-sweetheart]

𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔶

❣︎anon: Aaand one more cant help myself, but a dominance battle between Kei-nii and Aki-nii? Brothers battle for little little sisters attention? It could be dark or not honestly, bc hust the thought of being fought over by those two giants ugh😩

i hope you enjoy this. thank you for requesting + i hope you don’t mind there’s no smut in it i just wanted a chance to explore their psyche more? <33

tsukishima kei x reader | akiteru x reader

warnings: tw yandere, tw incest, tw possessiveness, mentions of masturbation, obsessive behaviour, 18+ dark themes

word count: 2.5k

❦note: part ii is posted

tsukishima hates the facade akiteru puts on: the sickly sweet smiles, the tender touches at the small of your back that just always dips a little too low, pulling you into tight hugs flat against his body at unreasonable times. he doesn’t like how when you’re whimpering in the dead of the night because of a nightmare, you’re crawling into akiteru’s bed instead of his own, begging for him to be the one to hold you. you don’t ever resist when akiteru walks up behind you and engulfs you in a hug, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing your ass against his crotch and whenever he makes you promise to never ever look at any boys.

“i promise, akiteru-nii!” you cry with a bright smile, giggling when he cups your face and squeezes your cheeks.

“so cute, y/n! but good, all men are nasty. you only need your akiteru-nii, okay?” you nod, not noticing tsukishima trying to hold back from spitting a nasty remark of how dumb you are to not realise that akiteru is trying to own you, to make sure nobody else can have you. he hates how you agree to it, not even paying attention to him when he’s your brother too, he can’t stop his mind racing with thoughts of you too, he can’t even look at other girls because none of them are anything like you. he wants to have you, not akiteru.

tsukishima remembers the time when you were whining about being forced to do your own laundry, insisted by your mother who claims you need to learn some basic life skills, you can’t rely on akiteru forever! but as soon as she leaves the living room, akiteru smiles wide at you, wrapping his arms around you as he draws you into his chest. you’re so much smaller, towered by his tall, broad frame and you nuzzle into him, pouting.

“akiteru-nii, i can’t do it! what if i turn everything pink- or shrink it?!” you cry.

“it’s not that hard.” tsukishima remarks coldly at you, your eyes widening but akiteru chuckles, eyes gleaming as he caresses your hair.

‘don’t worry, you know this nii-san will help.” tsukishima finds it hard to hold back when you smile and whisper how much you love akiteru-nii. it’s worse when akiteru presses a kiss to your cheek, a bit too close to the corner of your mouth but his brown eyes are locked with tsukishima’s.

it doesn’t end there. tsukishima is horrified when he walks into the laundry room, stopping in his tracks with his heart thumping to see akiteru kneeling on the tiled floor, your laundry basket in front of him and one of your bright pink panties pressed to his nose. he knows it’s dirty but akiteru is shameless, inhaling deeply with a hand pressed to his crotch, palming himself audaciously to you, their precious little sister. he isn’t at all bashful, instead turning to face tsukishima with a malicious gleam in his eye as he groans out, muffled slightly by the fabric of your panties.

“you’re gross.” tsukishima says coldly, shaking his head with a grimace but really he can’t stop the jealousy seeping into him- he wants to be stroking the soft cotton of your panties, smelling you and wrapping your underwear around the head of cock when he strokes himself to lewd fantasies of you. akiteru only smiles, chuckling as he pockets your sweet, pretty panties.

“yet she still likes me more though, doesn’t she?” tsukishima grits his teeth as his grip on his own laundry basket tightens, knuckles paling at the surge of jealous anger rushing through him. no, he doesn’t want to think that you could possibly like akiteru better than him- no, he has to be the best person in your life, the only person.

but tsukishima has his own ways. he can’t be nice like akiteru but he sees the want in your eyes, that desire for attention and your meek trembles whenever he walks into the room.

“kei-nii,” you say quietly, batting your lashes as you stand in front of him, hands trembling slightly. “i was wondering if you could look over my college assignment-” you flinch when tsukishima snatches it from you and he has to hide the smirk that threatens to grow; he knows you're scared of him- years of teasing you throughout childhood till you were reduced to an anxious, teary mess did that- but you also craved his approval, just begging for a semblance of love and approval from your cold older brother.

you squirm as he reads it, your quivering hands picking at the skin of your lips as you watch him anxiously. you wince when he scoffs.

“there’s mistakes on the first line.” he sneers, tossing it back to you dismissively. “have you even proofread it?” your head sinks low as you hold your papers close to your chest. behind you, akiteru shifts from his position on the couch, his eyes tearing away from the television to watch you both with a clenched jaw.

“i’m sorry, kei-nii.” you mumble, your eyes softening as your shoulders slouch. “i’ll re-write it and do better for you.” tsukishima huffs as he reaches for his headphones but despite his dismissive nature, you still stand there shifting your weight nervously from foot to foot. it makes him swell with power, knowing that you’re so good and submissive to him. that he really can have you all to himself, that not even akiteru can compete; after all, you love the kindness akiteru gives you but how much must you love tsukishima to always trail after him, even after he’s so harsh to you?

it gives tsukishima the upper hand to have so much influence over you, even when he’s bitter and critical. sure, akiteru is sweeter but he has to try whereas tsukishima is so effortlessly powerful- he knows he has you right in the centre of his palm, his precious little pet to play with.

“i’m sorry, kei-nii.” you say again, nodding solemnly. “i just want to make you proud of me.” tsukishima stiffens at your words but it’s not out of dislike- instead he has never felt so warm, so high and mighty to hear you craving his approval, slouching pathetically in front of him. there’s a small hiss, missed by you but loud enough for tsukishima to smile to himself. akiteru looks like he wants to blow, his jaw clenched and the vein in his temple throbbing.

“y/n, i’m proud of you.” he says. his voice is low and stern, even if he usually coats it in sugar for you but you smile warmly at him- a smile tsukishima hates to realise you never give him.

“thank you, nii-san but i want kei-nii to love me too.” as you leave the room, muttering over rewording your assignment words you don’t notice the thick tension that fills it, the air of competition.

it’s pathetic but your need to please tsukishima is easy to see when he walks into your bedroom one day and you yelp, your phone dropping from your hands as you wrap your arms around yourself. tsukishima is frozen in the doorway, his eyes widening as they drop down your body- your beautiful body all out on display for him in a lacy, pastel lingerie set he doesn’t quite recognise.

“kei-nii!” you cry but tsukishima doesn’t leave. your face drops when he closes the door behind him, moving forward with darkened eyes to pick up your phone. “no- don’t!” he inhales sharply at your screen, his blood rushing at the sight of all your pretty pictures displayed: you with your ass pushed out, you holding your pretty tits and pouting at the camera, looking like pure utter sin.

“please give me my phone back, please-” you whimper when tsukishima faces you, his brow furrowed as he holds your phone up high, knowing you won’t risk jumping to reach it.

“who are these for?” he demands. his voice is calm but cold. it’s threatening.

“no one!” you insist, wide eyes filling with tears. “i promise- they’re just for me! i’m not sending them to anyone.” he scoffs, shaking his head with faux disgust but really his heart is pounding and he’s hoping you won’t notice his cock growing harder and straining against the fabric of his pants.

“really?” he scoffs. “are you being a whore, begging for attention from men? why are you like that?” he makes sure to grimace, just to see you shake your head wildly and tears fill your eyes.

“no! i’m not, kei-nii, i promise!” you’re pleading and it just makes tsukishima harder, hearing your pathetic whines as you’re stood in such revealing lingerie just inches away from him. “i don’t want anyone’s attention! i just-” you look down sheepishly at the floor, tears rolling down your cheek as you hug yourself. “i promise- i don’t want any man.”

tsukishima wants to smile proudly, maybe even reward you with a kiss that stings with possession but he knows he can’t, not yet. but it’s enough to hear you promise never to look at other men, to know that you’ll push away everyone else to make sure he’s the only one you’ll ever love. but he isn’t done yet- an opportunity like this is far too good to pass up. nobody has ever seen these photos before, has never seen you like this before...not even precious akiteru.

“i’ll have to delete them, just to make sure.” you nod, sniffling as you reach for your sweater at the end of the bed. tsukishima tries to ignore the fact that it used to belong to akiteru, him marking you with his clothes that still smell strongly of his aftershave. but it’s okay, because now he has these pictures, the ones he sends to himself and deletes from the chat history and your photo album, nodding when he hands you your phone back. “don’t do this again.”

“okay, kei-nii.” you say meekly, crawling onto your bed and wiping your cheeks.

that evening, you’re too embarrassed to come out of your room, leaving akiteru and tsukishima alone in the living room. akiteru sighs heavily, pausing the game he’s playing as he scratches his blond hair.

“what’s up with y/n? i want her to come out of her room. what’s she doing in there?” he fidgets as he speaks, his eyes rounded with worry- akiteru can never cope well without you, a little bit of distance or less contact than usual always sends him into anxious fits.

“i’m sure she’ll be fine soon.” tsukishima says with an air of nonchalance that makes akiteru narrow his eyes at him. it’s at this moment tsukishima angles his phone screen towards his brother, making sure he can see every sinful photo of you displayed on his screen, lewd and unmistakable and enough to make them both hard.

tsukishima and akiteru only end up on the same page when they’re both as disgruntled as each other the evening you come dancing into the living room, smiling bright with exhilaration and your face pretty with makeup. they’re itching for answers: where were you? who with? where did you go? what were you doing? but they can’t, not when their mother smiles tenderly at you, asking about your day spent out with a mysterious ‘friend’.

“i’m so happy you’re finding new people to meet rather than tagging after your brothers all day.” she smiles, patting your head as you grin. neither you nor your mother notice the small hisses akiteru and tsukishima release; they’re your brothers, you don’t need anyone else when you have them!

tsukishima knows something is wrong when akiteru comes into his room the next day, snapping the door shut behind him and ice in his eyes, jaw clenched as he’s gripping your pink fluffy notebook. tsukishima knows akiteru likes to ‘clean’ your room, insisting you relax in the living room whilst he rifles through your belongings, feeling your clothes and inhaling your scent that clings to your pillow and reading your diaries and sometimes, tsukishima hears the low grunts through the thin wall, knowing that akiteru is probably jerking himself off in your own bed. but tsukishima can’t really judge him for the last thing, not when there’s been times he’s been home alone and has gone into your bedroom, settling himself at your desk and staring at the photographs you’ve stuck on the wall. his favourite is the photograph of you at the beach in your skimpy bikini and wet hair and droplets of salt water glistening off your body- he always stares at it intently, panting as he fists his own cock, imagining what it’d feel like to touch you and all the pretty sounds you’d make. it’s embarrassing almost how quickly he cums, his mind too overtaken by his arousal that he releases into his own hand within minutes, your name heavy on his lips.

“what?” tsukishima demands, sliding off one headphone as akiteru tosses him the notebook.

“you know what y/n’s been up to? our precious little sister?” he’s seething; it’s rare for akiteru to get so angry but when he does, it’s like a volcanic eruption. explosive. fiery. dangerous.

tsukishima frowns as he opens the book, eyes widening at the words you’ve scrawled in pink pen, the hearts you’ve adorned a familiar name with, one that makes his stomach churn.

he kissed me so well it was the best first kiss i could’ve ever wished for!! i can’t wait to see him again, i really think i’ll end up loving him. maybe he’ll be the one?

“the one?” tsukishima scoffs, his face contorting with disgust. hot, green jealousy fills him, shuddering as he throws the diary to the end of his bed but the words are still burning in his mind. another man? how? how can you even dare think of another man when he’s here, your dear brother, the only man who deserves your attention. does that mean all the sickly-sweet ‘i love you’ declarations and the way you pined for him wasn’t true...but just for attention? are you really just an attention whore? yet he’s still calmer than akiteru, the older brother pacing the length of the room with his hands curled into fists.

“going to fucking teach her a lesson. ‘the one’- bullshit, she only needs me! i’m the one here for her, me! everyone else will just hurt her but not me! she doesn’t need anyone, no one else.” there’s a loud bang as he punches the desk, hissing through the pain but he looks unrecognisable in his anger. tsukishima inhales, rolling his eyes as he leans back against the headboard of his bed, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. the cogs inside his brain are turning.

“for once, akiteru, i agree with you. no one else can have her- no one else should.” akiteru is breathing heavily as he considers his brother, eyebrows raising with intrigue as he waits for him to continue. “we’ll just have to make sure she knows that.”

#tw incest #tw yandere #tw possessiveness #darkconfectionery #yandere!tsukishima #yandere!akiteru #yandere!haikyuu #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere hq #yandere!hq #yandere hq x reader #yandere tsukishima #yandere akiteru #dark fiction #tsukishima #akiteru #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #akiteru x reader #akiteru x y/n #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #tsukishima imagines #tsukishima fic #akiteru imagines #akiteru fic

[lunaekalenda]

Hi! Can I request a Jean x Reader fic where reader is Marco's beloved little sister and basically follows the "Im in love with my brother's best friend" trope? And Reader doesn't do anything about it because she thinks Jean only sees her as a little sister (bc that's what he always says) but Jean is madly in love with her too? And hw never says anything until she does something really reckless. (Any Au is okay :) )

omg yes yes!! of course! i hope you like it! 💖 sorry for the waiting, anon!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ jean x reader!

❁ modern au!

❁ all are college students (age +18), mention of alcohol, food.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

"Y/N, I'm leaving!" Marco was at the door, putting on his shoes. You nod while you look at your big brother, a smile on his mouth when he sees your eyes from behind the kitchen's door, eating some doritos. "Oh, Jean is coming for dinner." You almost choke. You cough and Marco looks at you. "Y/n?"

"The dorito was spicy, sorry." Jean Kirstein is coming to have dinner at your home. Jean is Marco's best friend since the two of them wore diapers. Marco laughs.

“I told you they were spicy. Well, I'll go now, I’m late! Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll cook once we arrive home!”

You don’t like cooking, but you like even less to be alone with Jean while Marco is occupied. Marco never wants you or him to help, which means you’ll be alone with Jean when he cooks. You remembered your room was a mess and your makeup is in the main bathroom. You run to go and order things a bit, just in case Jean needs to use the bathroom and sees all your makeup around. You also entered your room and got changed, using a pretty outfit based in pastel pink clothes.

Jean is just a couple years older than you, but he thinks about you as his little sister, or so does he say. After all, he and Marco are like brothers, so that makes you her "fake lil-sis." You're tired of that sentence. Of that "How's my sis today?". You want him to look at you like a girl, someone to fall in love with. Not someone to apply a fake blood rule. Marco trains football until 8 p.m, so you have exactly an hour to get all clean. Even when you and Marco are really tidy people, it’s impossible to keep all the things in their places. You’re sitting on your bed, moving your legs with nervousness, when you hear the boys entering home.

“We’re back!” Marco yells. You prepare yourself for acting as nothing happens while you go down stairs. Your brother is taking out his shoes and giving his friend house slippers. 

“Hi, welcome.” Your voice comes out more shy than you’ve expected. Jean looks up, his hazel eyes looking directly at yours. You feel your legs weak when he smiles.

“Hi, y/n!” he says. For your luck, you hear another voice. 

“Is y/n here?” Connie’s voice is listened behind Marco.

“She lives here, idiot.” Jean comes in and you look how his tall body is now positioned near yours. Connie smiles and runs toward you, his arm around your shoulders. 

“Jean, sometimes people go and spend nights out with friends, specially if you’re coming.” The boy clicks his tongue. “Long time no see, bestie.” You laugh. It’s true that Connie is one of your best friends, he’s in your math group, and his outgoing personality made him became one of your best friends really quick, and also Marco’s. 

"You're having dinner here?" Connie shakes his head.

"Nah. Today I cook on the shared flat, I don't want to leave Sasha without dinner or she'll eat my chocolate reserves. I just came to steal a couple beers to Marco." Marco points the fridge with his index. Connie laughs. "Bro, I know where your fridge is, but thanks anyway."

They have a trust in each other that you envy, is so natural for them to visit the others' houses, and they're comfortable with it. As you're comfortable with them hanging around your house, seeing Marco so happy. Jean crosses his arms, his arm touching yours for a second. Your braincells disconnect from your body and you enter in a kinda of Jean repetitive thoughts. Connie sits on your sofa, opening a beer.

"Well, I'll go and make some pasta. You guys can play there." Connie takes the remotes, giving one to Jean and another to you.

"Marco, you should play with them." you say. "I'll cook."

"Don't worry! I beat their asses every day, now it's your turn to do the same." he says, entering the kitchen. You sigh, taking the remote. They put a shooter. You sit in the middle of your sofa, giving space to Jean to sit near Connie.

"Fuck, I'm so bad at this..." You say. Even knowing is a cooperative game against zombies, you're always the first one to die. Jean laughs quietly, before sitting next to you. His leg collides with yours in a jokingly way.

"I'll protect you." he says. You know he's talking about the game, but you can't help and start daydreaming about him and you, how his long fingers will take your hand and pull you to his chest, whispering those words on...

"Oi, Jean, you're not that good to protect her! Zombies will kill you two unless I protect you both!"

"Connie you suck at this game." Jean defends himself.

"I'm sure Y/N prefers me to protect her. Or do you prefer Jean?"

He's dead man. He knows perfectly what do you feel. He knows you like Jean a lot, and he has been trying to make you confess. Jean looks at you, his sweet gaze fixed on your eyes. Yo look down.

"I think I can handle it by myself." Connie laughs and Jean roasts him. The game starts. You watch how Jean's fingers change quickly between all the buttons: pressing, touching, moving. You look again to the TV, blushed. You shouldn't be thinking this things. Concentrate in the game, Y/N. Concentrate. The game goes strangly well, the three of you comunicate your plans easily to the others, and it all goes well. Jean rests his back against the sofa, making his t-shirt go out a bit and his sport shorts tighten around his worked body. You can't take your eyes out. You blush again and you feel how your remote vibrates, indicating you're being eat by a zombie. Connie sighs and Jean looks at the screen.

"Fuck, Y/N, sorry." he says. You clear your throat and shake your head.

"I was distracted, sorry." Connie smiles.

"What distracted you, bestie?" he asks. You're going to kill him. You don't answer, getting up and asking what do they want to drink. Jean asks for a glass of water and Connie asks if you could bring something to eat, even when he has to leave in ten minutes. You give Jean his glass and Connie some chips.

"Thank you, bestie." he says. You look at him, faking a smile.

"Eat and be silent for a while, bestie." he nods and eats. Even knowing you're joking, he doesn't say anything for a bit. He's concentrated in the game, as Jean is. You go to the kitchen and ask Marco if he needs soemthing. He shakes his head, preparing the sauce for the spaghetti.

"Weren't you playing?" he asks. You nod.

"Yep. I died." he smiles. Marco's smile is the most bright and beautiful smile you ever seen. You wanted to have a smile like his, but you only have his same eyes and freckles. He looks at you.

"Go, go. Don't leave my guests alone!" you nod and went back again to the living room. The game is finished, with Connie and Jean's stadistics in the screen.

"Look, bunny!" he says "I was the better one to protect you!". It's true that Jean's stadistics are better than Connie's.

"Oi, Kirstein, you're just a bit better... It was luck." he says. He looks the hour on his glass and gets up. "Well, I'll go home now. It was a pleasure." he says. You accompany him to the door. "I wish you luck, bestie. I'm sure you need it." You punch playfully Connie's shoulder before hugging him. "And, mark my words: He's just waiting." Then, he leaves, without giving you the opportunity to ask what the heck he meant by that. You head back to the living room, where Jean is sitting on the sofa. His sweater is on a near chair. It's so big and looks so comfortable...

"Do you want to play more?" you ask. Jean looks at you while you sit, giving him space. He smiles.

"Why not! Do you want me to teach you how to play this one?" he takes a open world game. You know he's really good at them. Marco, Jean and Eren usually play online every saturday, and they want you to join their team, but you haven't played that much. You nod. "Okay, let me..." He moves near to you. He takes the controller and gives one to you, keeping him the other. He enters the game. "Well, choose a character, bunny."

He has been calling you bunny since he discovered how much you like bunnies. They're so fluffy and beautiful, you like them. You have one, called "Wink", because he has a genetic problem that makes him wink one of his beautiful eyes. He was about to be sacrificed because of that, but you saved him in the last moment. He's now a happy bunny with a curious talent. You doesn't dislike the pet name Jean gave you years ago, but it makes him sound like he's calling you a really affectionate nickname.

You go back to reality and choose a cute little girl using a big hat. He chooses a near character and clicks play. "Okay. This is the main city, so now you have to climb here to unlock the map..." he explains you for a while, and you follow his character. Sometimes, when he moves his leg, his knee collides with yours. Now, you're totally stuck in a level.

"Jean, how do I...?" he looks at your character, stuck between two walls.

"Can I?" he puts his hands near your controller and, when you're about to give it to him, he puts his big hands on top of yours, covering them. His fingers pressed lightly against yours. You look at him, but he has his eyes fixed on the screen, as he moves your fingers with his. “You have to move like this, silly...” he says. But you can’t concentrate in anything more than his scent near you, the warmth his body irradiates and his fingers pressing yours sweetly. You feel how your heart speeds up it's beat.

"Y/N!" Marco yells. "Can you take the garbage to the container, please?" he asks. You yell yes in response, getting away from Jean's body. You get up fast. He does the same, suddenly kinda uncomfortable.

"I'll accompany you, bunny." he says. You nod, taking the garbage bag. Jean follows you silently. The container is not far from your house, just a couple crosswalks. You take the bag and start walking. It's dark now, and the street is really quiet. Just your steps and Jean's can be heard. He follows you keeping a distance, his long legs making short steps. "The night is beautiful today." he says. You nod in response. You look at both sides before crossing the street.

"Maybe a little bit cold." you say. He quickens the pace to be near to you. The sweater he took from the chair is around his waist, so he takes it and puts it on your shoulders.

"Use it. I'll take the bag." he says. You murmur a little "thanks" while putting his sweater on. It smells like him. You try to take the bag from his hands back, but he moves. "Jean, give me back the trash." He smiles playfully.

"Take it from me, bunny." he jokes. His long arms move the bag, avoiding you to take it. He's playing near the road, so if you go around him and surprise him from the road, you can take it. That's why you go down to the road, without looking and without noticing a car that is coming fast towards you. The car lights were really low, and that didn't make you realize it was coming. But now, now that Jean yelled your name and the car beeped, you realize you're about to be hitted by it.

You can't move, your body is totally paralyzed. You knew the car was trying to stop, but the high velocity it got is impossible to stop. You thought you'll feel a hard hit, but you felt a soft thing around you.

Jean's body is around yours when you find you two on the street. It takes you a couple seconds to realize what happened.

"Jean, Jean, Jean." you move him. Got he hit by the car? Did he put his body between yours and the car? He looks at you, his eyes searching your gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asks. You nod while he gets up, helping you to fo the same.

"And you? Did it hit you?" He shakes his head.

"I just pulled you against me, that's why we were on the floor." He explains. "None of us got hit. But you have to be more careful, what could have happened to you if I wasn't here? You coul... Y/N?" he asks. Tears are running down your tears. He takes you in a hug, his big and warm body protecting yours.

"Sorry." You say. You feel how he caresses you hair.

"You scared me. I thought the car was going to hit you. Be more careful." You nod. You try to make a joke, to make things more comfortable.

"You're really a good fake brother."

"That's what you think of me?" he asks. Isn't that what he wants you to think? Isn't he the one calling you sis? His hands explore a bit your body, with long caresses from your neck to your low back. His long fingers running slow on your skin.

"That's what you think of me" you answer. He clicks his tongue.

"You never showed any interest in me. I gave up and treated you like a sister. That's what you wanted, no?" You wanted to look at him, but he doesn't let you, pressing your head soflty against his chest.

"I was in love with you, Jean. But you came home and tell my brother how good Mikasa looked and «How are you, little sister?». What I was supossed to do? Compete with an older girl? Make you realize I'm not your little sister?"

He doesn't say nothing for a while. He breathes deeply, before talking.

"Sorry, I was nervous. I thought the car was going to hit you. I thought I was about to see you getting hit." he says. His breath is a little bit irregular now. Taking some valor, you leave a kiss on his chest, where is heart is ubicated. He sighs. "I also liked you. But it didn't feel good, you were my bestie's little sister. I didn't want to ruin my friendship or worse, your relation with your brother. I thought it was better for me to stay away. That's why I treated you like that. I was trying to convince myself. It didn't work." he lets out a little laugh.

"I felt like you were serious about it. That's why I never said anything. But I do like you, Kirstein."

"You're a lucky girl." he says. He keeps your head buried on his chest. "Because I also like you, Bott." he says. He leaves a soft kiss on your hair and, shyly, accompanies you to throw the garbage. There's silence. Once you're walking back, in the same silence, he breaks it. "Should we date, then?" he asks. "We're both adults and we like each other, doesn't it work like that?" he asks. You nod.

"But, Marco?" he says then. Oh, you forgot about him. Marco, your brother, his best friend.

"Oh, true..."

"Well, Marco is home and we aren't." he says. "He isn't going to miss us a couple minutes, right?" his voice getting low as his lips got closer to yours. "You don't know how many times I wanted to kiss those lips or caress this body." he murmurs. You tangle your hands around his neck.

"Why you didn't, then?" you ask. He lets out a little laugh.

"Now I have all the time of the world to kiss you." you feel his soft lips against yours. His hands around your waist and yours tangled on his hair. It feels so good.

"I hope so."

m e a n w h i le

"do you think he confessed?" Connie asks. Marco keeps taking out plates while talking to Connie on the phone.

"They have been out for twenty minutes. I'm a 99% sure he did, and he's corrupting my little sister behind a house." he says.

"He doesn't want to break your sister's relation with you." Connie says. Marco sighs.

"My sister is in love with him. If both like each other, it's none lf my business."

#aot fluff #aot x reader #snk fluff #snk x reader #snk fic #aot fic #aot scenario #snk headcanons #aot fanfiction #aot #snk jean #jean aot #jean x you #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #jean x reader #marco bott #marco aot #connie springer #connie snk

[malereader-inserts]

A Ringing Dilemma

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Derek Morgan x Male!Reader Summary: Derek is having trouble with stuff, luckily Penelope Garcia is to the rescue! Word Count: 1,101 Request: Can I please have a criminal minds one? Where Derek Morgan (or Spencer reid!) Is stressing about how to get a ring for the m!reader- engagement ring- and how to surprise them but since they work together, it's hard? A/n: Didn’t think I would be able to write something like this, but I hope you enjoy this

“How’s the hunt going?”

Derek sighs, his hands support his head as he looks stress in his office, looking up at Penelope. She gives him a sympathetic smile, knowing that is a look of a man who’s seen rejection. He shakes his head, almost depressed like.

“No luck, it’s hard to get around (y/n), he’s just too observant!” Derek hits his head on the desk, groaning, “Why did I have to fall in love with a profiler.”

“Because he’s a charming handsome man who swept you off your feet more so than any other girl you have encounter?” Penelope asked as Derek looked up at her with despaired eyes.

“Baby girl, just please help me out here, I don’t know what he’ll like or what type of rock he’ll even like.”

“Okay, hun,” she spoke with amusement, closing the door and coming around to sit next to him, “What colour does he like? Or what is his birth stone?”

“I don’t know birthdays had birthstones.”

Penelope sighs, “Men,” she muttered under her breath, knowing your birthday anyway and typing in a male engagement ring with your birth stone in the ring.

There were many types, smaller stones that were wrapped within the ring. Knowing you, you wouldn’t want a ring that had the rock on show, you would prefer something that was embedded within the ring. 

“Silver or gold? Now, remember gold rings are more expensive, so depending on your price range and how much you guys are going to spend on your wedding and honeymoon - I would say chose carefully.”

Morgan looked at her with awe, profiler or not, he was a little clueless and loss with any knowledge with engagement rings. No-one really teaches you what to look for when buying them, but of course, people who wear rings more often would have a bigger idea on the situation. That being Garcia in this situation. 

“I’d like silver, I don’t want anything too flashy for him.”

“Oh hun,” Garcia says, “You forget your boyfriend is a flashy guy.”

How can Derek forget that about you? You were one of the loudest people he know, if not the loudest. If you were allowed, you would come to work in loud colours. After all, you like wearing bright colours because you weren’t afraid of standing out. Whilst Garcia likes eccentric clothing, you have to meet people and come off as professional as an FBI agent. 

But, outside work, you would wear different colours. Derek knows you have the whole rainbow spectrum in pants and cardigans, you have two tone pants alongside with your normal black jeans. Still, you had some soft pastel sweaters, button up shirts. He knows for a fact that you haven’t run out on outfits, and you always looked on point in them.

You never had a set aesthetic on fashion. One day you could wear somewhat feminine clothing, baggy clothing, tight clothing, you can pull off a skater look well just as well as a grunge look. It’s always a bet within a team to see what you’ll be wearing if they ever run into you out of work. 

“If anything (Y/n) might ask for platinum wedding bands,” Garcia says as Morgan raised an eyebrow, “Not as pricey, but not commonly asked for.”

“Well, that’s all great and that, but how am I suppose to pick it up?” Morgan asked, “I can’t exactly sneak off and lie to him, he’ll see right through me.”

“I’ll do the talking, you underestimate how I can do things around you sneaky profilers,” Garcia says, patting him on the shoulder, “Tomorrow’s lunch break, luckily it’s an hour slot so we have enough time to get a quick bite and go to the jewellery shop.” 

“You’re an angel.”

“Don’t mention it, hot stuff,” Garcia winks, deleting history and closing the tab, before looking at her work best friend, “The real question is how you’re going to propose and have him really surprised.”

“Aw, fuck,” Derek rubbed his face, Garcia could tell that he was too wrapped up in thought about the ring that he hasn’t put much thought about how he would pop the question.

“And, you young man is not going to propose (Y/n) in a dire situation. I want him to remember the proposal, something you two can tell the kids, not something that’s traumatic and you did it out of panic.”

“Yeah,” Derek sighs wistfully, “I want it great, something he’ll cherish forever.”

“Well, you keep thinking about it? You’re in no rush to do it, and do it something associated with something you both enjoy. Don’t do it on significant days, anniversaries and birthdays. Christmas is too far away as well as New Years.”

“Wait, why not on our anniversary or his birthday?” The agent asked in confusion, he doesn’t see anything wrong with proposing on those days.

“My opinion, it’s tacky and lazy to not get a gift, whilst it is endearing - I’m not a fan. Universal opinion, a bit overdone, overrated, somewhat expected.”

“Right got it,” Derek sighs and sits back in his seat, sighing, “I can somewhat relax.”

There was a knock on the door then your head popping in, a smile plastered on your face upon seeing your boyfriend. Derek looks at you, all his stress momentarily washes away.

“Hey Der, are you coming out soon or you’re staying longer here?”

Derek looks at the time, not realising it’s the time to get home, he looks back at you, “I’ll be out there in ten minutes.”

You nodded before casting your eyes at the tech analyst, “Alright, you coming as well Pen?”

“Yup just got to grab my stuff,” The woman smiles at you, just as bright.

You give them thumbs up, “Alright, we’ll be waiting by the doors.”

You close the door as Derek looks at his best friend, before talking after a minute or two of silence, “He wouldn’t have heard the conversation?”

“Calm down, Derek, I don’t think he would have.”

“But-”

“Hush with you now, up you get, don’t want to keep the others waiting.”

Sure, some of his worries are elevated, but he can’t help feel the nervousness bubble through his stomach. It’s a feeling he’s got to get used to until the moment arrives, he dreads how well he can hide that away from you. 

Maybe he could get the team on his secret to help him out, but even that is a task in itself to pull them to the side without being caught by you. This was a harder challenge than he thought.

#derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan x male reader #x male reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x male reader