#i was a lanky tall kid but i was so SLOW at running and i still am

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

okok so i was listening to remains of the day and i could not stop thinking of corpsegroom!eddie and victor!steve from @undreaming-fanfiction's Corpse Groom AU

Aneta, ilysm!! i hope you don't mind me adding onto your au!!! 🫶

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

Steve awoke slowly, blinking up at three (surprisingly) familiar faces. 

His kids.

Okay, not actually his kids, but the ones he took care of not that long ago. They had the same sort of blue tinge to their skin as Eddie did, but it was still them.

Wait...Eddie!

Steve sat up, way too fast, causing his head to spin.

“Whoa, slow down Steve.”

“Dustin? Dustin, what’s happening? You died! Years ago!” Steve frantically looks over the round faced boy, looking for any indication that this really wasn’t Dustin, but nope. He still looks exactly the same from the top of his curly-haired head right down to his feet.

“Yeah, I did. It’s not that big of a deal.” Dustin waves his hand nonchalantly and sits back on his heels from where he’d been kneeling over Steve.

“Not that–Dusty, buddy, I was crushed when you died. When all three of you did.” Steve looks at the other two, a red-headed young girl named Max, and the tall, lanky, and kind, Will. “I couldn’t believe you were all gone..”

“Well, it’s not like we meant to.” Max gripes at him, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of…wherever this is.

She’s right, of course, the sickness that had shot through the kids of their small town had taken many under its cloak, but luckily only scurried away to the afterlife with a handful. Steve had found out half of his beloved group of kids (friends?) he’d watch over passed when he and his parents returned from holiday. Having skipped over the short-lived plague by happenstance.

He would’ve taken any of their places in a heartbeat.

“O-of course,” Steve stutters out, “I didn’t..”

“It’s okay Steve, we know you didn’t mean anything by it.” Will pats his leg and stands up, offers Steve a hand. “But the real question is, why did Eddie drag you down here.”

Steve lets Will pull him up, and he’s surprisingly strong, maybe it’s a symptom of being dead. Undead? Do you get stronger when you un-die?

“Eddie…Eddie! Where’s Eddie?” Steve looks around for the boy–nope, not really ‘boy’ any longer. The corpse that clawed itself out from under that tree definitely looked older than when Steve first knew him all those years ago.

Looking around the place, he meets the curious eyes and empty eye sockets of the other souls of this world. All those whose skin hadn’t quite gone had the same blue tinge as Eddie and the kids, and some still bore the marks of the events that’d taken them here. To this pub.

Is the afterlife only a run-down looking pub?

Dustin interrupts his scanning of the bar’s patrons. “We really need to play catch-up here, how do you know Eddie?”

“We–I–how do you know Eddie?” Steve retorts.

Max rolls her eyes. “Met him down here, of course.”

“He took us under his wing, helped us adjust…kept us out of too much trouble.” Will smiles.

“So, back to the original question, how do you know him? Dustin asks again. 

Steve lets out a long breath. “I knew him when I was young. Younger than you lot. He taught me to play piano.” Steve smiles at the memories of Eddie humming and singing along to whatever tune Steve’d make up. “He was a very good friend to me, until I just…stopped seeing him around. Whatever happened to him?”

Dustin winces minutely. “It’s kind of a long story..”

“And what a story it is!” A booming voice calls out from behind them.

Steve whips around, finally laying eyes on Eddie again. His arms are held wide as he’d come through the doorway to the bar, but the dirty, rumpled suit he wore and his full head of curls, now filled with debris, did nothing to staunch the glow coming off him. 

He’s so beautiful… and apparently just as much of a showman he’d been when Steve had known him, a fact that made him smile.

“It's a tragic tale of romance, passion, and a murder most foul.” Eddie continues, his low story-teller’s voice cutting through the background noise of the bar as he stalks toward them.

Max elbows Steve in the ribs and says, “This is gonna be good.” at the same time Steve catches Dustin grumbling, “..please don’t.”

Steve gulps. “Did he say ‘murder’?”

Max nods enthusiastically, obviously having heard this story before, while Dustin and Will grimace and nod unenthusiastically, also obviously having heard this story before.

“You all know how this begins, with little ol’ Eddie being cordoned off to his own side of town after getting caught befriending a Harrington.” Eddie begins his tale, speaking to and winding through the tables of patrons. “Can’t have us low-lifes on the ritzy side of Hawkins now, can we?”

Ouch. That stung a little.

“Life moved on, Eddie grew into a dashing young man,” Eddie stands straight and flashes a charming smile over the bar, one hand comes up to his chest and the other flings half of his dark mane over his shoulder. “Dashing enough to even make a deal with a more well-off family perhaps?

“A deal was bartered with the Cunninghams, to wed their only daughter to the once-distinguished Munson family.”

Steve knew of the Cunninghams, their only daughter was shipped off years ago to be wedded to the Carver’s first-born son in the next town over. He’d never heard that she’d once been thought of for marriage to Eddie, though he had been forbidden from knowing anything of the long-haired boy he’d met after his father had found out.

“But alas, the lone Munson heir was not one to choose the company of ladies, as lovely as Christine was and likely still is. She was his best friend, and he would not put her through a loveless marriage. Especially not when he had a love of his own.

“SO!” Eddie jumps up onto a rickety-looking chair with the exclamation, “He did what he thought best and he planned to run away.” he steps up further, onto the small wooden table, much to the apparent excitement of the skeleton seated there. “He took what remained of his family’s money, leftover dowry from his mother’s marriage to his father, and fled.

“That was the plan,” Eddie continues, plodding across the closely placed tables as he went. “Take the money and run, elope with his beloved; they’d already picked a meeting place, so he asked Chrissy to send word to his lover to meet that night, in the graveyard by the old oak tree.”

Oh no. That’s where he first found Eddie.

The crowd reacted together in a combined wail of “Don’t go!” as if rehearsed, all of them hanging on his word.

“I must!” Eddie replied, as if this was a play and not the tale of his own murder. “My darling dear will wait for me and we will flee to my only remaining family!”

“No!” the patrons yell again.

“Yes! We will go to Uncle Wayne, we’ll elope, start anew…we’ll get to be together.” Steve’s chest starts to constrict hearing the story-telling tone leaving Eddie’s voice. This was real. This is what he’d actually thought back then, back when he was alive, still full of hope.

“Oh no..” comes Will’s whispered voice beside Steve.

There’s a single beat of silence where Eddie seems to collect himself at the same time the crowd waits on baited breath (at least they would be if they had any) for him to continue, knowing what happens next.

Eddie jumps from the table he’d been atop to the nearby stage, spins around, and starts again, voice fully back in story-mode, and many-times-repeated words spill from his mouth.

“So there I was, next to the graveyard by the old oak tree, on a dark foggy night at a quarter to three. Ready to go! But where was he?”

Another round of call-and-answer picked up across the dingy bar, the entire place calling out, “And then?”

“I waited…”

“And then?”

“There!” Eddie points off to the side of the stage, “In the shadows, was it him?!”

“And then?”

“My poor little heart beat sooo loud….” Eddie clasped both hands over his un-beating heart.

“And then?!”

Eddie’s chest was heaving.

Steve took a step forward on instinct, not knowing if the panic on Eddie’s face was just for show.

“And then…everything went black.” The crowd gasps at once, all still seeming to be horrified by the turn of events no matter how many times Eddie may’ve told this tale.

Eddie starts speaking again, gaze far away, back in time. “When I opened my eyes, I was dead as dust. The meager amount I had on me, gone, along with the sound of my heartbeat.”

He starts back across the tables toward their little group, voice gaining confidence again as he recites his story. “So I made a vow, lying under that tree, that I’d wait for my true love to come set me free. So long I’ve been waiting for someone to ask for my hand,” He quick-steps down to the floor from a chair so generously pulled out for him by a kind looking woman more skin-and-bone than flesh.

“Then out of the blue comes this beautiful young man,” Eddie’s directly in front of Steve now, and reaches for his hands. Steve lets him take them, takes in the man in front of him, every last detail he can.

He’s just as beautiful as Steve remembers, even through the lens of crushing on someone much older than you; his hair was just as wild, his eyes as fiery, his hands much colder than the ones that used to guide his fingers along piano keys, but just as soft, just as sure.

What had not been there before was the dark purple, crumpled looking gash on his forehead, just under his hairline. The sight of which had pure rage boiling in Steve’s gut at whoever decided it was his place to take such a soul from the world.

“He who vowed forever, to stay by my side.” Eddie all but whispers.

Steve looks down at their hands and his heart squeezes in his chest at the sight of his ring on Eddie’s finger. He looks up with a smile, squeezing Eddie’s fingers in his and suddenly, the panic is back on Eddie’s face. For a fraction of a second, then replaced by one fully-cocksure. 

Steve’s hands are suddenly empty, Eddie spinning around to the crowd, “That’s my story. The story of your resident corpse groom!”

Eddie flings his arms wide, like he had when he first returned to the bar, and gives the raucous crowd a low bow. 

The muted claps of the corpses’ skin on skin, and the rattling ones of the skeletons around him are drowned out as Steve steps forward to place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Eddie, I–”

“No worries Stevie, I’ll get you back up to the surface again, no sweat.” Eddie takes a step backward, then another, his face under the grin falling sharply, “I gotta go find Elder Gutknecht, he’ll know how to get you back, no ties still tethered here.” then he turns and all but runs from the room.

———————-

ahhh!!! i couldnt get the idea of eddie, the story-teller he is, being the one telling his own story in remains of the day 🥺

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st ficlet #st au #corpse bride #corpse bride au #dutin henderson #max mayfield #will byers #chrissy cunningham #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steveddie #emily corpse bride #victor van dort #emily x victor #noelle writes

[wisecrackingeric-2]

Idk if you've done it before but got any serenedy hcs?👉👈

IM C E R T A I N IVE DONE THIS BEFORE BUT I LOVE ANSWERING THIS QUESTION TEHEEE GIGGLES AND KICKS MY FEET

Edit: this turned into a glorified fanfic but sssssssssshhuddup

. Luis is Like one of those dogs who are really massive but don’t realise they’re massive so they try to be lap dogs and all you can do is just sit there and accept it. You know the dogs right. Yeah that’s Luis to me; he’s tall and he’s lanky and he’s 95% limbs and he INSISTS on sitting on Leon’s lap or being the little spoon and Leon lets him every single time no matter how uncomfortable it is

. They’re both Transgender Capcom actually told me so but also I think it’d be hilarious if Leon was pre-top surgery when he went on that initial mission and first met Luis so when he tells him Luis is like “??????????????YOUVE BEEN RUNNING AROUND HIS ENTIRE TIME WITH A BINDER ON?????? WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU??????????????”

. They take their t-shots together (Capcom told me so)

. Leon goes out of his way to find the specific and exact brand of cigarettes Luis likes even though they’re really expensive and hard to find (this isnt even a headcannon the brand of cigarettes he smokes in-game are E X P E N S I V E )

. Luis would ABSOLUTELY be disabled if he DID survive the knife to the back cuz speaking from a family members experience there is NO WAY he’d be walking again with a giant hole in his spine like that

. So when Luis first started using a wheelchair and moved in with Leon at first in the mornings when they’d both just get up and Leon would be getting ready for work, Luis would always ask Leon to crouch down so he could fix his suit collar, and for the first few times alone would wave him off (classic I-can-do-it-myself Leon) but after a couple times Luis explained that being able to help Leon even with something small like that gives him a sense of agency that he’s lost so Leon immediately apologised and now every morning it’s a habit for Leon to wake up, get his suit on, and crouch down in front of Luis to let him fix the collar up (and give him a kiss on the cheek)

. They both have really weird work scheduled so most of the time Luis will stay up in the labs until midnight meanwhile Leon has a super early start but their lunch breaks line up so that they get a few hours in the afternoon to spend together, and usually that just involves them sleeping away in their shared bed hdbehdbdhdnxhxn

. Leon is one to pick Luis up from the labs (because he’s the only one with a legal licence dhbshdbshdnd) and Luis usually finishes an hour or so earlier than him so he waits at the door for Leon like a little kid and he gets super excited every single time when he sees him in the doorway no matter how many times they’ve done this BDBSHDBDHD

. I’ve said rhis before and I’ll say it again. Luis sleeps starfish style. He has every limb thrown over Leon at all times and he always somehow ends up on the floor in the mornings

. Luis buys Leon new jackets all the time. Which like. Yknow. SOUNDS cute on paper. Except he’s using Leon’s credit card cuz he doesn’t have one HXNHWNWUSNSIZMS

. Leon keeps a photo of Luis in his pocket whenever he’s on missions. Yknow. For reasons.

. Leon brought Luis a brand new copy of Don Quixote when they first moved in and as a joke Luis asked Leon to read it to him but then it became a tradition every night except Leon is a REAAAAALLYYY slow reader and he has a BAAAAD reading voice like he struggles to get through a sentance out loud and Luis finds it SO so so endearing he encourages Leon to do it more often

. Luis is allergic to cats, and he’s also not much of a dog person (for obvious reasons) but he’d LOVE to have a pet of some kind someday

. Also I will keep spreading this propaganda but Luis IS A HORSE BOY LUIS IS A HORSE BOY AND HED LOVE TO TEACH LEON HOW TO RIDE

. Luis really likes feeding birds outside and it gives Leon an excuse to slow down and chill out so he does it with him whenever he can

. Also spreading my propaganda that Leon can’t cook. What did he eat before he met Luis? God knows. Chris found him raiding his fridge for pieces of cheese multiple times. Now Luis always makes sure to cook Leon a big nice breakfast and dinner no matter how much leon insists he doesn’t have to

. Also a self indulgent headcannon that Luis is a wee bit of an artist. He learnt how to do quick realistic sketches of anomalies during his time with Umbrella so every now and then when Leon’s off in his own world doing work at the table or just staring out the window Luis will do tiny lil sketches of him just to admire him. But he’d never admit that to leon he’s way too shy HCSHNESHSNHS

. Leon isn’t very good at audibly asking for attention or phsyical contact, so the two of them have come up with a system where Leon will wrap his arms around Luis’ waist or shoulders and Luis will immediately know that he wants a cuddle for whatever reason. He doesn’t pry, either; he knows that sometimes Leon just has Bad Days and needs some physical support and to feel wanted

. Leon pretends to not know how to smoke a joint just so Luis will teach him and baby him through it. He gets all clingy when he’s high ok

. I don’t think Luis would still be religious after a l l t h a t BDNEHENHEJS but I Imagine he still prays every now and then just for some comfort and he always asks Leon to sit with him while he does for some support

. Pulling this straight from my own fanfic but I think Luis would propose to Leon with one of his own rings BXNEHENEHENE and they would DEFINITELY get married with literally zero witnesses just for themselves too

. Luis forced Leon to get a car cuz he’s scared shitless of motorcycles

. Leon always helps massage Luis’ back whenever his pain is flaring up

. Leon is secretly a lot clingier than Luis and cries to himself whenever they have to be apart for whatever reason he is a big crybaby to M E

. Luis likes swimming cuz it helps his chronic pain and Leon sucks up his fear of big open waters for him HSHEHENEHDNDJ

. Luis is very very proud of his appearance and so him showing up all messy for Leon is a lil act of love <<33

. Also they accidentally steal each others clothes all the time and they look ridiculous

. Finally, this is FULLY self-Indulgent, but I do think Luis would wanna be a dad someday. Idk about Leon, but I think Luis still truly does look up to his Grandfather and wants to be the same kind of man he was and raise a kid of his own and see that kid grow and not have to abandon him the same way his Grandfather did (And I think Leon would share similar emotions too)

#ericswriting #serrenedy #serennedy #serrennedy #luis serra #luis sera #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #luis serra navarro

[zhounauts]

one hit is all it takes ; k.gyuvin

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CHAPTER 3 ! high speed chase

word count ! idk no more

prev masterlist next

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were failing world history. How? You didn’t know, in fact you actually had zero idea. So here you stood in the teacher’s office getting lectured by your homeroom teacher about the outlier in your grades. Amongst all your perfect A’s lay a C- from your history teacher who always gave you horrendous grades for some apparent reason. “Yn you’re smart, and it shows with all your other grades, but your grade in history is quite bad,” 

“I know Mr.Nam,” 

“I’m concerned for you, y/n you’re a top student but this could really bring you down altogether,”

“Yes Mr.Nam, thank you for your concern,” 

“I talked to your teacher about this, and unfortunately if you don’t manage to raise your grade you won’t be able take part in clubs,”

“Wait what? That bi-, I mean what?” 

“I’m sorry y/n, if I could I would try to stop--” THUD! Both you and your homeroom teacher turn around, and your eyes widenin horror.

“YOU!” Gyuvin yells, pointing at you, papers sprawled all across the floor. You stand frozen in front of your teacher as the tall boy points an accusing finger at you. 

“Wha-” Mr.Nam starts.

“You sprained my wrist!”

“Fuck! NO! I mean, Sorry Mr.Nam for my language, no that wasn’t me--”

“I’d recognize the person who assaulted me!” 

“But I--”

“Excuse me you two what is going on--”

“YAH! GET BACK HERE!” Gyuvin yells, as you dash out the teacher’s office leaving the door open and a confused Mr.Nam as Gyuvin runs after you.

“HEY YOU TWO! WHAT THE- AY! YAH! G-GET BACK HERE? YN WE AREN’T DONE TALKING ABOUT YOUR GRADES-- HEY GET BA--”

_____

What is life? You didn’t know, cause the predicament you were in right now was extremely confusing, scary, and life-altering. You hadn’t run this hard since the track-season had ended.

Your forehead was lined with sweat, blood pounded in your ears, your hands gripped and ungripped, your skirt-uniform blew in the wind (real), and you pumped your arms as you ran like your life depended on it (it did). You ignored the stares from kids, as they poked their heads out of their classroom windows, and pulled their phones out to watch and capture the scene: a tall lanky boy chasing a girl.

Your legs were gonna give soon and you knew it, but the boy who was behind chasing you was relentless. In your school, you had the athletes: the soccer team, the basketball team, hell even the tennis team but you never knew that someone from the dance team could be this athletic.

You look behind you: bad idea, because despite his hand injury his arms are still pumping and his long legs are carrying him distances one could only dream about. The adrenaline rush continues to propel you foward until you crash into something. No, someone. You come tumbling down to the floor at the impact and feel Gyuvin also trip and fall onto you resulting in a lump of lanky legs and arms. As the two of you look up, curses leave both your mouths. There in front of you stood the principal, arms crossed, and eyebrows raised. “You two, office. Now."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

TAGLIST ! @yeolaegi @soobincantswim @zuzushoner @mposkyje @rosinbae @beomibeom

taglist is open, send an ask or comment to be added!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n SCHOOL ENDED LETS GO sorry for very extremely diabolically slow update but it'll be faster now I swear. I like this chapter 10x better than the last one, the last one I was high on studying and out of ideas so my bad

+ my proofreader is in canada come back bitch and read over my stories please

#zerobaseone #zb1 #zerobase1 #jebiwon #sung hanbin #kim gyuvin #zb1 gyuvin #gyuvin fluff #hanbin #gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin x reader #boys planet #boys planet x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic #bias #bp999 #zhang hao #zhounauts #boys planet taerae #gyuvin imagines #gyuvin boys planet #jiwoong #park gunwook #han yujin #cha woongki #oopsie #uh oh moment #uh oh guys #zb1 scenarios

[rockinnrollin]

Chapter One: That Blonde Prick.

Kenzie's POV - September 1977

There's something hellish about living in a house with 2 younger brothers and a little sister. My sister Emily isn't actually all that bad, it's Jack and Josh that make it worse. They're the most annoying, loud, disgusting boys ever and quite frankly, they've put me off men for life along with my stepdad Mark. Their his kids and its obvious. 

School mornings are the worst of all, especially "First day of school mornings". The boys can't stop shouting about football or some shit, Mark takes about a hour in the morning gluing his hair with gel like a fucking hardhat in the bathroom and my mum just sits with a cup of tea reading the paper, glancing up every so often to make sure we're not all dead. I need to do my hair and makeup before Hannah comes around and Mark won't move his hole. 

"Mark, can you please hurry, I've got 20 minutes at a stretch!" I yelled up the stairs. 

"Oh my god Mackenzie,  I'll be ready when I'm ready!" 

Such a prick. 

Another 5 minutes later, he finally got out the bathroom. 

"There you go Your Majesty." He said while walking behind me. 

"Prick." I muttered under my breath. 

After teasing my hair and firing on some makeup the door went. I grabbed my bag and blazer from my room and ran down the stairs already knowing Hannah was on the other side of the door. But alas, how would I have a prick step-dad if he wasn't a prick. 

"Mackenzie Adams, where are you going?" he said, looking at me with pure disgust. 

"To school?" He's so stupid.

"Not dressed like a tart your not! Pull down that skirt right now." 

Excuse me? Did he just call me a fucking tart? 

"Don't call her that Mark! But, yes, please pull your skirt down a little more love." My mum said, clearly over Mark and I's bullshit. 

"Okay mum. Oh by the way, I'm heading to Hannah's after school, we're gonna do more band stuff." I told her, knowing already what was coming from Mark. 

"Waste of time if you ask me." There it was. "Focus on something important, like your school work, you want to leave school this year, get your head down." He said.

"Good thing I didn't ask you then Mark. Bye mum! Love you!" With that I left knowing I'd get in shit later. 

"Eventful morning?" Hannah said standing with a smirk. 

I gave her a dramatized sigh, "Don't you start." 

"Move it drama queen."

Our walk to school was only about fifteen minutes usually, but Monday was different.

"Right you've got your grans note this week, yeah?" I asked Hannah.

"Oh no." Her face dropped.

"Hannah you better be joking." 

"Of course I am you silly bitch."

We lived in a smaller area, so everyone knew everyone. Including the people working in the shops, they knew our grans smoked and would happily give us the cigarettes if we had a note on us signed by our grans. Me and Hannah took turns weekly, we would get two packets off of one note each, this week Hannah was getting ours, and I'd actually be getting our grans. The girl in the shop can't be much older than me and Hannah and probably knows something dodgy is going on, but we have the note so what can she argue?

Once we were out of sight from the shop, Hannah gave me my pack and I gave her her grans pack. We'd go after school and give our grans their cigarettes, they had no idea what we were doing and just thought we were playing the dutiful grandaughter role, which I suppose we were. We always sat for a while and talked to our grans, made them tea, done shop runs for them and made sure they didn't need anything else done before we left. 

"Slow walk?" I asked Hannah, code for 'Lets go the back paths and have a smoke.'

Due to our "slow walking" we were 10 minutes late to our first class Art. 

"Adams and Green, you need to sort yourselves out. This is a new school year. Don't keep this up." Our teacher Mrs Smith said, she wasn't fond of our timing but seemed to like us anyway. 

"Sorry Mrs Smith." 

About five seconds later, a boy walked into the class. But not just any boy, a new boy. He was tall and lanky. Had a mop of thick blonde hair stuck to his head. Looked like it had been teased just as me and Hannah did. Didn't have a blazer or tie on. But the strangest thing of all, he had eyeliner on. I say strange but personally, I love it. But no boy dared wear eyeliner in our bit, especially at school. The people here weren't as understanding of rock culture as other areas might be. 

"Is this Miss Smith's class?" He spoke, in the exact same accent as my own?

I nudged Hannah with my foot, knowing she would be just as freaked as I was. She turned to me with the look of confusion on her face, mirroring mine. 

"Yes I'm Mrs Smith, take a seat at the back behind Andrew please." She sighed. "I'll just go over the register again."

As she started droning out everyone's name, mystery boy walked through the slim aisle of desks to the one in front of my own, not without giving me a look that read "I'm the shit, who the fuck are you?" 

"Steven White?" 

"Present, and it's just Steve, Miss." He replied.

"Alright Steve. Ryan Young?"

Me and Hannah turned to each other again, with a look on our faces to say "Who does he think he is?" 

After art, we headed outside behind the Janitor's office to have a cig. 

"I cannot get over that Steven guy in art." Hannah said thinking out loud. 

"I know, wonder where he came from." I said back to her. 

"He just seems a bit of a knob."

After a gruelling maths period and a biology one following, we were back at our little smoking spot. We were talking away when we heard footsteps heading up the path. One of the first things we learnt was how to hide a cig when a teacher was coming near due to my older brother Luis. 

"Stuff it in your pocket, they shouldn't smell anything since your outside and can't accuse you if they can't see it." 

We did excatly this and turned our backs, so if they asked us what we were doing, we could bolt around the corner and not have our faces shown. 

"Alright girls?" It wasn't a teacher. "You got a light?" 

We turned around and there he was, 'Steve'. He had a cig hanging out his mouth and both his hands in his trouser pockets, clearly too 'cool' for a blazer. 

"Yeah give us a minute." I started feeling my pockets in my blazer looking for my lighter. I could see him in the corner of my eye trying to look closer at the pins I dotted around my blazer. All of which were bands I held the dearest to my heart. 

"Led Zeppelin?" He asked me.

"What about them?" I said handing him the lighter. 

He lit his cig and took a draw before saying "Girls don't like Zep."

I took my lighter back from him, pissed that a boy thinks he's the shit for liking a band and thinking that a girl can't. 

"Well we do." Hannah snapped back. 

He let a little laugh out.

"You two are something else you know that?" He started laughing to himself.

"Mate fuck off if you're gonna be a pretentious dick." I said to him. 

He walked back a couple of steps with his hands in the air. 

"Alright, see you about." He took the cig back from his mouth and rounded the corner. 

"What a prick!"

We went around to see our grans before heading to practice. We were currently sat on my gran's couch with a cup of tea, telling her all about Steven. 

"What a dick." She simply said, cig in one hand, mug of coffee in the other. 

"Exactly what we said." Hannah replied. 

"Of course girls can like Zep. Fuck they can like anyone they want to." My gran said between a draw of her cig. 

Always the wisest woman I knew. In fact, it was because of her me and Hannah actually got listening to Led Zeppelin. We were 10 years old, sat in her living room as she was playing us her record collection. She put on Led Zeppelin and our lives seemed to of changed forever. Hannah already had a love for music due to her sisters constant blabbling about how she was going to marry Paul McCartney, but my mum was never a music lover, which I found strange after seeing my gran's collection and listening to her speak passiontly about her favourite artists. 

Not long after, me and Hannah were walking to our friend Katie's to get her for our band practice. We only had a bassist, a guitarist and a singer but we knew we had time to find a drummer and another guitarist. We knocked on the door and we were met with Katie giving us a weird look. 

"What do youse want?" She sighed.

"Monday, band day?" Hannah said.

"Oh right, I'm over that stuff now. Who even wants to listen to girls playing rock, we sound stupid." 

I stood looking at Katie gobsmacked, Katie used to love playing with us and she was a great player. 

"Katie come on!" We heard a girl yell from the top of the stairs. 

"Coming Rachel! Bye." And with that she slammed the door in our faces. 

"Fucking Rachel?" Hannah exclaimed. 

Rachel was the biggest bitch ever. She always though she was better than everyone else and called herself the 'Popular' girl since the start of highschool. Quite frankly, she was embarrasing and I couldn't believe that Katie had her at her house. 

Me and Hannah continued our walk back to her house and were talking about what to do now. We took a de-tour to sit at the park and have another cig before we went back to her house. 

"I can't believe she's fucked us off for Katie of all people." I said taking a long draw of my cig.

"What the fuck do we do now Kenz?" Hannah asked.

"What are you needing?" Oh god why is he here too?

We turned around to be met with the wonderful Steven again. 

"Guitarists and a drummer, for our band, that plays rock and has two girls in it." Hannah said back plainly. 

"Well I can't help with your drummer problem, but I play lead guitar." He said. 

"Really?" Hannah seemed interested now. 

"Yeah, been playing for a while."

"Hannah wait a minute, your seriously considering letting that blonde prick join our band?" I said to her. 

"Well Kenzie, we don't have alot of fucking choice do we?"

"Look I'm sorry about earlier," Steve started speaking "I didn't mean to be a dick, was just a wind up."

His face told me he was telling the truth, I turned to Hannah who's face told me 'C'mon, Please?'

"Okay fine, we'll give you a go." I spoke in defeat.

"Right lets go!" Hannah said, stomping out her cig. 

'This blonde straggely haired, annoying prick better be good.' I thought to myself as we headed to Hannah's.

#oc fanfiction #we made it #we made it series #rock #70s #fanficiton #def leppard #rick savage #joe elliott #steve clark #nikki sixx #phil collen #duff mckagan #rick allen #axl rose #motley crue

[bundleoberries]

I

Cries of the damned, smells of rancid rotting flesh and dilapidated buildings were the main things assaulting the senses of the girl within the hostel. She shivered; holding herself while hiding behind a bed, just out of view from the snarling and thrashing head mere centimetres away. 

It had all happened so quickly, hanging out with the other equally as fucked up people as herself, passing around a bottle and sharing stories to ease the tension of the overwhelming situation. That was until they heard a simple noise.

Thump.

It came once and they had all stopped, not daring to breathe at all as if it would stop the noise from repeating.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The noise alone shook the girl with uneven and messily dyed purple hair to the very core. She had heard those noises for as long as she remembered.

Thump... Thump... Thump...

Her eyes dilated as the people around her became overwhelming even though all they were doing was breathing.

Thu-thump thu-thump thu-thump.

Her breathing grew quicker. She was having a panic attack as well as surreal flashbacks.

All the more louder they had grew in sound, the noise of something approaching.

Thump.

It wasn't human.

Thump thump.

Then a voice, as innocent and sweet as honey, asked a question.

"Did we board the doors?"

Everything was in simultaneously slow motion and as though it was fast forward. The sound of skulls cracked against floors, shrill screams as the once living and youngest out of the group was now a fresh corpse. The monster became more confident with the kill as it turned to the nearest person who'd screamed and leapt onto them, a deep red launching into the air and covering the carpeted floors for no-one to clean as more of the population within the hostel became another death count at the claws of these... Things.

They could best be described as eight foot tall bats with tiny wings that were torn and ripped and frayed. Freakishly long limbs that looked akin to black branches. Front facing, beady black eyes; a predator. However, they seemed partially blind as the girl had managed to notice and relied mainly on their hearing due to the fact one of the kids, only fifteen years old, had almost managed to escape the grips of death via the overgrown bats until she had let out a faint whimper. She was dead in mere seconds. 

Kumi used this lack of vision to her advantage, ducking in and out of a viewing point.

She just needed an opening to get out of this place. She'd been stuck in the restraint of the overtaken building for roughly five minutes, just barely managing to avoid the clutches of death from the monsters that had invaded but by the gods, it felt like hours. Running on low adrenaline, Kumi had little strength in her thin arms to throw a distraction however she wouldn't have to; there was one other current survivor who had let out a whimper a bit too loud.

The kid was gonna die but the opening was there.

Leaving behind the wake of disaster with pangs of guilt for the person she could have saved, Kumi sprinted and thanked her lucky stars she'd gotten a lot of stamina over the years as she outran inhumane creatures. Her hair which was frayed and tangled flew behind her as she ran in the humid night air, tears flying out of her eyes out of the force of the wind and as the images of those once living were taken from her. The monsters must have been alerted to her sprinting as two of the bat-like creatures who were previously feasting on bone perked up and gave chase. She couldn't help letting out a little whimper of defeat.

Was this how she was to meet her end? She'd survived 20 years of her life to which many would've given up and made friends with a blade or a rope. Was she really about to become food for an overgrown excuse of a bat?

Running on sheer adrenaline, the young adult scrambled round a corner, hoping to have turned it sharply enough that the two freakish beasts were confused.

She was sadly mistaken.

The next thing the scrawny and lanky girl knew, she was flung against the stone wall that would've blocked her path if she had been cornered by the creatures, which she had. The pain in her body surged and made her seethe, lucky to have avoided a blow straight to the back of her head as she slumped in a pile. Disorientated she just saw the white glow in their eyes sway as her vision tried to focus. 

She was going to die. 

She closed her eyes in defeat, ready to feel the pain her death would bring. A crunch of bone and flesh made her screw her eyes tighter until she realised... She was unharmed. Kumi opened her eyes in shock as she looked at her hands before out at the view ahead. A figure; a human, was bashing the legs out from under one of the bats as the other lay in a pool of its blood, twitching. A figure shrouded in dark clothes yet she could make out a gold shine of glasses, a silver glint reflect off what must've been a necklace and dreadlocks in the light of the midday sun. Someone else was alive and furthermore, helping her survive. Once both of the bats had been knocked out, the person ran over to her. Kumi was able to take in more of the person's appearance.

They were a bit smaller than themselves by the looks of it, with deep hazel eyes and faint stubble on his chin. Looking Kumi up and down, they held their hand out.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Their voice was low and monotone, a gentle rasp gracing over the last word that left his lips. Hesitantly, Kumi shook their head as they took the stranger's hand who pulled her up firmly.

"Come with me then." He nodded his head, letting go of their hand in order to make her decision as the stranger began to walk away, not looking over their shoulder.

What if this was a trap? A ploy for some horrid people to commit terrible actions upon them again? Traces of doubt flooded Kumi but her body had decided as her feet began to move for them, gravel being crunched on below as they caught up with the stranger.

Kumi was going to find out one way or another if this person was going to kill them or help as they both began a gentle jog in order to reserve energy down an unfamiliar path for the scrawny girl.

#original writing #original story #first draft #horror story #writeblr

[dearduende]

TWILTSH pt. 2

This week in late-twenty-something-hood I fell in love for the first time in a while. I met him through a friend of a friend, and he came highly recommended. They sent me photos and a rundown of all his quirks. I met him a couple times, we went on a two-hour hike, and we really seemed to click. And I felt this sense of ease.

This week in late-twenty-something-hood I finally chose someone, after meeting so many dogs. I made a list of all his known issues and consulted my friends and family and even a pro. Sifting any dealbreakers from the red flags, which I decided we could work on together. I realized I was probably overthinking it all.

This week in late-twenty-something-hood I welcomed someone into my life and my home. After seeing him in his space and how well he got along with his friends. After we cuddled a while on the couch. He nudged my hand, leaned into me, and gazed into my eyes.

This week in late-twenty-something-hood I signed the papers and adopted my first dog. He’s a gorgeous tall lanky athletic boy, equally serious and goofy—just my type. Loves the outdoors and going on runs. Very sweet and super smart but a little anxious—well aren’t we all. He hogs all the blankets, especially my soft fuzzy ones, but we take the best naps together. While I still don’t know much about his past, I’m excited to build our life together.

This week in late-twenty-something-hood I imagined him meeting my kids one day. All the grand camping trips up and down the coast. How I’ll one day see his face go gray and slow down to match his weary gait.

But for now, I’ll savor all our morning snuggles and his head on my lap lightly snoring as I write even now. Who knows how much time we’ll have together—the rescue estimates he’s three. So I’ll step into my thirties with him by my side. Gazing at me with his blue and brown eyes.

This week in late-twenty-something-hood I find myself repeating lovingly to him: “You’re doing so great, so much has changed. You’re so sweet and so loving, and all I hope is to see you thrive. I’m here for you forever—it’s you and me babe. You’re trying new things and it can be scary at times, but you’re being so brave! I’m so proud of you. And I love you so much.” And I realized he’s helping me affirm this more in myself as we grow together.

This week in late-twenty-something-hood my therapist said she’s proud and happy for me. That she wishes I’d done this sooner. And I agree with her.

#writing #poetry #poem #words #poets on tumblr #new poets society #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #poets corner #poets of tumblr #written by me #welcome home #I adopted a dog! #poetry prose #inspired by @liam.oce and @blakeoftoday

[laughing-with-god]

The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

--

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note:  So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next.  The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life.  Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ.  Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol.  This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments.  Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads​ once again for creating the cover art for this fic.  They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop​! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic.  They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar.  They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while.  I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.  

#yandere jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #yandere bts #husband jungkook #yandere fic #yandere #jeon jungguk #Yandere jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #yandere bts fic #yandere au #daddy jungkook #fanfiction #fanfic writing #My writing #yandere kpop #twice sana #twice dahyun #bts seokjin #kim seokjin #BTS jin #jeon jungkook

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9

Foolish flinched. Qackity’s shouting stopped abruptly. It was warmer (Las Nevadas was surprisingly cold). Foolish slowly opened his eyes. An open grave stood at his feet. His heart jumped into his throat and he stumbled backwards, falling on his back. He stared dumbfounded as a bee flew out from the grave and landed on his knee for a moment before flying away. Quackity was nowhere to be seen. 

His breathing slowed and he looked around. He was in a graveyard next to a church. Was he dead? Was this limbo? What had happened? He wasn’t supposed to die… but he had died before. But if he had died just now he still should have had his third life, he should have respawned… maybe he had. Maybe he was still alive… That made more sense. No, wait, he still had all of his stuff, if he had died his inventory should have been empty… Foolish held his head in his hands and stared at the ground.

“You ok there, friend?” 

Foolish’s head snapped up. A man with neon green hair stood on the other side of the stone wall surrounding the graveyard. Foolish quickly picked himself up and brushed himself off. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine… um- this may seem like an odd question, but, am I dead?”

The man laughed, “I don’t know, are you? I mean, I assume you're not dead, cause I’m not dead, unless you’re un-dead, if you know what I mean.” 

Foolish let out a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Alright, I’m alive, i'm not dead,” He muttered, staring at the sky.

“You sure you’re fine?” The man asked again, putting air quotes around the ‘fine’. “Cause, you don’t seem fine…” 

Foolish shook his head “No, really, don’t worry about me, I was just a bit disoriented, that’s all.”

The man pursed his lips and raised a brow “You asked me if you were dead… not if you had died. Which means you knew there was a chance you might get stuck in a respawn glitch. Have you been messing with server magic?” 

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Foolish scowled and crossed his arms looking down at the man. He wasn’t in his twenty-three foot form but even in this form he stood almost a foot taller than the other man.  

The man shook his head “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just dangerous. I mean, I would be a bit of a hypocrite if I condemned people for messing with server magic.”

Foolish didn’t look impressed. “It’s only dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

“I mean, I guess.” The man said rubbing the back of his neck as he contemplated Foolish’s words “But no one is stupid enough to mess around long enough to get the practice...” He trailed off as he looked up to see Foolish looking at him with an incredulous look, “Oh.” 

Foolish finally relented and his expression softened, “Maybe you're right, I mean, my name is Foolish after all,”

The man chuckled, “Maybe we're both a bit crazy. I’m Joe, Joe Hills. Nice to meet you,” He said, climbing over the low stone wall and reaching out his hand. Foolish smiled and shook it. Joe had a firm grip.

“So you said you have experience with server magic, what can you do?” Foolish asked as the two of them walked out of the graveyard and over to the church. This church was much nicer than church prime. As a builder Foolish could appreciate the detail put into the architecture.   

Joe shrugged as he sat down on the steps and leaned back on his elbows looking up at the sky, “I can see better in the dark If I want to. Honestly, I don’t really mess with it much anymore.” 

“Why not?” Foolish asked, leaning against the wall. 

Joe shrugged but Foolish noticed his grip tighten into a ball. “It wasn’t worth it. A friend of mine got hurt and almost didn’t respawn. Actually, she should be around here somewhere, I wonder where she went?” 

---

Cleo stood on a concrete road getting yelled at by an angry man with a scar through his left eye and a blue beanie.

 “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck did you do to Foolish? Where is Foolish.” 

“Aaa, Foolish is a Zombie!” another man wearing glasses and green suspenders yelled. 

Cleo staggered backwards and summoned a sword from her inventory, “Who am I, what about who are you?”   

“You better tell me, right fucking now, what the hell you did to Foolish or I’ll-”

“You’ll do what? Don’t try me, I’ll put this sword through your skull I will,” Cleo bluffed. 

The man with the scar summoned an axe.  “Charlie, go get Purpled, tell him we have an intruder in Las Nevadas.” 

The man in green, presumably Charlie, looked at him perplexed “But, Quackity from Las Nevadas, why are we attacking Zombie Foolish?” 

“Damn it Charlie, Just get Purpl-” 

Cleo didn’t let him finish. A yell ripped from her lungs as she charged him, sword swinging. Quackity startled and blocked with the shaft of his axe. He shoved her off and she staggered back. Cleo dug her heels in swinging the sword like a club. There was a burst of pain, or more like cold (Pain felt different ever since the undeath) as his axe cut into her shoulder. But he was bleeding too. His axe returned to his inventory as he clutched his arm and staggered back. Cleo gripped her sword tighter, breathing hard, her eyes locked on him. 

She felt the impact and another burst of cold as an arrow hit her in the chest. Her head snapped up, there was a kid in purple firing arrows from a crossbow as he ran towards them. He was wearing full netheriet.

Cleo turned and ran.

“Stop her, she fucking did something to Foolish!” Quackity shouted. She didn’t stop running as arrows landed about her feet. Down the road through a tunnel and past a stone fortress. Cleo scrambled off the road, over a hill. She could hear them still behind her. Dodging through the hills she was able to shake them by looping back around behind them as they continued on. 

Once they were gone she slowed down. She touched a hand to her shoulder. It was throbbing with a dull ache and it felt cold, a deep cold like ice in her veins. She looked down. The arrow was still in her chest. She needed to do something about that. 

She was back at the fortress. Cleo slid down the hill, climbing behind the wall and slumped against the stone. She gritted her teeth and pulled the arrow from her chest with a grunt, dropping it in the grass. A golden apple appeared in her hand and she took a bite, the juice tingling in her mouth as the regen and absorption began to take effect. 

The throbbing eased a little and the wounds began to close. She looked up and froze. An enderman stared back at her with mismatched eyes. No wait, not an enderman, at least not quite. Half of his face was white. 

“Hey Tubbo, I think I found out what Quackity was shouting about.” The half-enderman kid called over his shoulder. 

Cleo staggered to her feet, her sword out. “I won't hesitate to-” 

The half-enderman backed up and raised his empty hands “Oh no, we're not with Quackity,” He explained. 

Cleo scowled but lowered her sword. “Well isn’t that lovely, someone who doesn’t want to stab me.”  

He looked alarmed, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that- I mean, I definitely don’t want to do that.” Now that she got a better look at him he looked kind of young, he was tall but in the lanky teenager kind of way. He looked to be 18 or 19, maybe 17. His suit probably made him look older.  

“Oh hey, so what was Big Q so mad about?” Another kid said as he came around the building. He stopped short when he saw Cleo. “Oh…” He was much shorter than the ender-kid. Two horns curled up out of his brown hair and almost every inch of exposed skin was covered in burn scars. Cleo let her sword return to her inventory. 

“Big man, why is there a funny looking zombie in our base?” the goat kid said 

Cleo bristled, “I’m still a person, thank you.”

The goat kid looked back at Cleo  “Ooooh- oops.”

“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and insulted her.”

“I didn’t meeean to, how was I supposed to know?” The goat kid wined. 

The two bickered like a married couple. Cleo coughed “Um- would either of you two be able to explain what is going on,”

“Haven’t got a fucking clue,” The goat kid chirped, a little to cheerfully. 

Cleo pursed her lips, “Well, could you at least tell me where I am?” 

“Um… The road between Las Nevadas and Spawn. Or do you mean here-here. This is our cookie shop.”  The ender-kid explained.

Cleo blinked.

“I think she means the server big man,” The goat kid said, “This is the Dream SMP.”

Cleo blinked again. So not Hermitcraft. Shit. 

---

The goat kid introduced himself as Tubbo and the ender-kid as Ranboo. Cleo explained what had happened, which made Tubbo laugh. It turned out that the cookie outpost and Las Nevadas were in conflict and Tubbo liked the idea of doing something that would, in his words “Piss off Big Q.” 

Cleo tried to return to Hermitcraft but was met with an error message. Tubbo and Ranboo offered to let her stay in Snowchester till she figured things out. They had no idea how she got there but they didn’t seem too concerned about it.

Snowchester was surprisingly far away from what the kids were calling a cookie shop. To Cleo it looked suspiciously like a military outpost but who was she to judge? 

Snowchester was a quaint little walled in town, overlooked by a massive mansion worthy of any Hermitcraft base. There was a tower, docs, and a little wheat field mixed in with little log and stone houses.  The air was crisp and cold, light snow fell around them landing on her hair and bare arms. Untouched snow coated the steps to most of the houses and closely shuttered windows looked back at her. The ocean lapped against the shore and the sound of a boat bumping against the pier carried up through the town. A single seagull landed on a stone wall. It looked at Cleo and cawed.  

Ranboo and Tubbo lead Cleo around a strangely industrial building on a hill in the middle of the town with “Danger, keep out” signs on the doors. 

“So what’s in there,” Cleo asked, nodding towards the industrial building. 

Ranboo raised his brows and looked at Tubbo. Tubbo pursed his lips “Oh nothing much, that’s just where we do equipment testing. You’re not allowed in there,” he added. There was finality to his tone. Cleo wondered what he was hiding and if it was worth snooping around to find out, but there was a dark conviction in the way that the kid with too many scars said it. The way the ender-kid hovered at his side anxiously watching everything. Maybe she should be careful not to make more enemies.  

They lead her to a little house behind the industrial building. “This used to be Foolish’s but he moved out so you can stay here for now,” Tubbo explained opening the door and letting them inside. 

“Foolish… the guy who Quackity thinks I kidnaped? You’re giving me his house?” Cleo scoffed looking around. A square table and chairs stood off to one side, a counter with a furnace and cabinets lined the back wall and a cactus in a pot sat by the front door.    

“Well, it’s not really his house anymore, he hasn’t lived here for months,” Tubbo shrugged. 

Cleo sighed, “So long as he won’t mind. Goodness this whole situation is a mess.” 

Ranboo gave her a sympathetic smile.  

“Welp,” Tubbo clapped his hands. “We’ll let you get settled in. Just don’t go snooping around in people’s homes, we are pretty private people here.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Cleo said absently, still looking around the room.

Tubbo and Ranboo left, closing the door behind them. 

There was a silence and then Cleo jumped at the sound of someone drinking milk. She spun around summoning her sword, freezing as the invisibility melted away to reveal Etho standing in the corner. 

“Finally, I thought they were never going to leave,” Etho muttered.

“Etho! What are you doing here?” Cleo bristled. 

Etho looked sheepishly off to the side as he rubbed the back of his head. “We’ll, I might have been following you. If you mean here on this server, we don’t really know. Oh yeah, TFC’s here too. We’ve been stuck on this server for about two weeks now. Least, I’ve been, TFC showed up about a week ago.”

“So wait, You're telling me you have been stuck on this server for two weeks?”

Etho nodded “Yup. Come on let's get out of here before they come back. We can talk at my secret base.” 

Cleo pulled away “Wait, wait. Why? Why were you sneaking around? Why are we avoiding those kids? I would like a good reason before I turn down their hospitality.”

“This server isn’t what it seems to be. It’s seriously glitched out. Haven’t you noticed how many scars everyone has here, how many hybrids there are.” 

Now that Cleo thought about it, even the ender-kid, Ranboo, had scars that looked like tears running down his face. Scars only happened when there was a glitch during respawn so they were pretty rare, the fact that three of the five people she had seen so far had obvious scars was concerning, especially with how bad the scars on that Tubbo kid were. On top of that, Quackity looked like he might be some kind of bird hybrid, with small golden wings, while Tubbo was a goat and Cleo had no idea what Ranboo really was. Hybrids were the result of pretty strong server glitches, and from what Etho was saying those guys weren’t the only ones. 

“So the server is glitchy, that doesn't make them bad people,”  

“There are places on this server that have been blown up all the way down to bedrock. Those kids who seemed so nice, they have nukes in that building right outside. There is a prison that everyone here is terrified of, seemingly for good reason. The Warden that guards it almost killed me while chasing me and TFC away, and said something about hunting us down and killing us till we were completely dead.”  

Cleo blanched “Completely dead… like, they have a way of reliably preventing respawning here.” She remembered what it felt like being stuck in the void unable to respawn. For Joe it had only been a couple of minutes, for her it had felt like hours.

“I don’t know,” Etho shrugged. “I just think it would be best if we all kept a low profile till we can find a way out of here.” 

“I… I trust you, Etho. But I don’t want to leave without letting those kids know that I won’t be staying here. They seem like nice kids, I’d rather not just disappear on them.” 

Etho hesitated, then nodded “Alright, Just be careful, and take this,” He said handing her two invis pots. “You can find me in the sewers under their shopping district, there is a community center in the middle of a lake, the entrance to the tunnels is underneath it.”

Cleo took the potions and smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I got this. I’ll be fiiine.”

“Ok,” Etho nodded and pulled his facemask down. He drank an invis potion before leaving the building.

Cleo sighed. Perma-death hum, would that even work on her? Seeing as she already kinda died before. She didn’t want to have to find out.

#hermitcraft dsmp swap au #dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hc x dsmp au #foolish gamers #joe hills #zombie cleo #quackity #tubbo #ranboo #charlie slimecicle #purpled #etho #tfc #warden sam

[hanniiesuckle17]

Blue Skies Chpt 3: The Mexican Standoff

A/n: I know the title is hella weird so imma just drop a definition for yall. Mexican standoff- a confrontation in which neither party stands any chance of victory. (also this is not edited so sorryyy) Tag List is open <3

Tag List: @woodiegochile @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @jeonqqin @geminirules @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00​ @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @konenichi​ @yangs-jeongin​ @binniebutter​ @orangegyu​ @little-precious-baby ​

Blue Skies TL: @etherealyoonghwa​ ​

Summary: Y/n and Hongjoong were only acquaintances in college. They were on the same dance team but never crossed paths until one day both took notice of the other. One magical night after a party resulted in Y/n leaving with a guilty and angry conscious and surprisingly a blue stick. Three years later, Hongjoong is a hit producer and Y/n is a successful single mom. What happens when their paths cross yet again?

☁

Hongjoong’s POV

The three of us walked down the street, hands shoved in out pockets. Yunho’s little brother had told him about this awesome bar he had been to the other night and now the six foot man was dragging both San and myself all the way to Sangsu-dong just to go to ‘The Tipsy Devil Pub’.

“You guys are so slow. Come one!” The giant bellowed, already several steps ahead of San and me.

The red neon sign glowed in the night. It was hard not to smile seeing the cheeky devil design illuminating the street below it. “This place better have amazing food.” San groaned as Yunho pushed open the door excitedly. A buzz of volume leaked out of the pub.

“It’s not like you’re going to eat it. You’re on a diet.” I said with a laugh.

“It could be my cheat day. You don’t control me.”

As we entered the establishment my ears were greeted with a familiar sound. The door shut behind me and I watched my two friends ahead take in the dimly lit and packed bar. From the speakers my song drifted over the heads of everyone in the room. 

Blue skies don’t stay when yours is the only smile in my mind

Lips on mine.

Legs entwined.

Little Miss Blue Skies will never see the sunrise.

Not with me.

Little Miss Blue Skies,

Come back to me.

Yunho smiled turning around to face me. His long finger point up as if gesturing to sound waves in the air. “Dude! They are playing Blue Skies!” I nodded, getting my own look around the bar. 

“You think if we are with him we can get free drinks?” San suggested, pushing to the back of the bar. A row of booths lined the wall, a maroon velvet covering the seats. 

“If you can afford that Chanel belt, you can afford your own martinis.”

“That’s offensive,” San paused, not bother to look back at me. “You know I drink Daiquiries.”

Yunho scoffed, sliding his long legs into the curved booth. “Like that’s any better.” I sat on the outside of the seat- my eyes scanning the crowded venue. My eyes fell on a certain figure sitting at the bar. 

He was a pretty lanky guy, but his features were soft and very attractive. One arm of his was wrapped around a young boy who couldn’t be much older than three. The boy sat in the stool next to the man, feet dangling over the edge. 

A nudge to my shoulder brought me back to the conversation which apparently had moved on without me. San tilted his head as if to ask what I was looking at. Not really knowing how to justify the fact I was looking at a three year old, I just pointed to the bar. 

“Who the fuck brings a child to a bar?” The handsome man scoffed, tossing a cashew into the air and catching it with his mouth. He grabbed another handful from the bowl on the table. Guess today was his cheat day.

Yunho followed where my gaze led and pouted his lips a little. “Oh- Gunho, told me about that. Apparently that’s one of the owner’s kid. Sometimes if they can’t find a sitter I guess one of their friends at the bar watches him.”

“So that’s his dad? The owner?” I asked, pointing to the good-looking man at the bar. 

My friend shook his head, stealing some nuts from San. “He said his mom runs the bar with her friend. I think she’s single.” He looked around all the moving bodies in the space before pointing to a woman behind the bar. She was turned away from us, but she gave off an aura that sent chills down my spine in a good way. 

“Single moms aren’t usually your type, hyung.” San laughed, flagging down a waitress to order some drinks. Tearing my eyes away from the girl’s back I turned to my friend, brows raised and questioning his teasing tone. 

“Hongjoong’s type are usually the ones who leave,” Yunho struggled to say without laughing. Seeing my glare he chose to sip on a glass of water. “I could have said you like psycotic bitches..... It’s really a toss up between the two.” 

I rolled my eyes, thanking the waitress and she handed us our drinks. After a few rounds of some random drink in a rocks glass (Never again was I going to let San order for me), I felt a tug on my sleeve. 

Thinking some drunk stranger just bumped into me I paid it no mind. Feeling a harder pull I turned, vision not quite keeping up with the speed of my body. Once my brain could decipher through the alcoholic daze I saw the little boy from before. 

“Hey, bud,” I put down my drink and saw that Yunho had a goofy smile on his face looking at the kid. Should have known the gentle giant liked kids. “Can I help you?” 

The toddler looked up at me with big curious eyes. “What’s your name?” The boy asked in choppy words. My brother had a daughter and she talked like that around this age. I smiled, leaning over to better speak with him.

“My name is Kim Hongjoong. What’s yours bud?”

The little boy smiled, revealing a toothy grin. “Mr. Kim you look like my daddy!” 

I blinked a couple times attempting to process what the young child just declared. The other two men with me froze as well. “Hyung- is there something you need to tell us?” San stuttered, looking from the boy to me. 

“I-I... I don’t think so....I haven’t had a girlfriend since.....”

“Blue Skies- we know.” Yunho interrupted. “Maybe you just look like the guy?”

I nodded, trying to convince myself that Yunho’s suggestion was probably the most likely one. There was probably a ninety percent chance I looked like the kid’s father. Wetting my now dry lips I said, “H-how do you know? Where’s your dad?”

The boy shrugged, completely oblivious to the panic on my face as most kids would be. “My daddy isn’t here, but my mommy showed me a picture of them together.” He stumbled over some of the bigger words and if I wasn’t freaking the fuck out I would have found it cute. “My daddy had dark hair though,” The boy smiled, pointing to my fading blue locks. 

Pushing past the lump growing in my throat I asked the question burning in the back of my slightly inebriated mind. “Where’s your mom?” 

Fully turning around, the little boy pointed to behind the bar where not only the man from before was staring at me, but also a familiar set of E/c eyes. Staring back at me was a face I thought I would never see again. A face I thought I lost. A face that left. 

Y/n. 

She looked just as beautiful if not more than when I remembered her. Unable to stop myself, I stood up trying to see her better from across the crowded room. “Hyung... is that?” Yunho asked, probably not wanting to say her name just in case. 

“Yeah.....that’s her.”

Before I could say anything else or turn back to the boy, a woman sprinted across the bar and scooped up the kid. As she was running towards the bar, the toddler waved at me with a clueless and happy grin. Even if I hadn’t just drank three...whatever San ordered...I don’t think I would have been able to process what happened in those next few seconds. The woman shouted something to Y/n, who nodded not even batting an eye as the in my eyes, kidnapper, rushed out the door with a man who challenged even Yunho’s height. 

Shaking myself out of shock, I pushed through the rowdy mass of intoxicated young people, Yunho and San following me. I never took my eyes off of Y/n, not even when she yelled something to a man coming out the kitchen and bolted towards the exit. 

The second she got to the door I switched directions only to be stopped by the handsome man from the bar and the guy who basically Naruto ran out of the kitchen. 

“Hey! Big fan! I’m Wooyoung,” Naruto said, introducing himself all while keeping me from following Y/n. “I’m one of the owners and I just want to say how honored I am you came tonight. Can I get you a drink?”

“No. I just need to talk to that girl.” 

“Sorry, dude. That’s not gonna happen.” The other guy stated. He obviously wasn’t strong and the owner, Wooyoung was holding me back the most but I got the feeling I didn’t want to mess with this guy. 

I sighed, looking back to Yunho and San who were being absolutely no help. “I just need to fucking talk to her okay!” 

The two shared a look, before the skinnier one turned back to me, shaking his head. He was about to open his mouth and say something when the more excited one interjected. “You know....I can’t let you go talk to her....but for the right price....I’ll give you her number.”

“Woo, you devil spawn.”

“He’s not going to agree to it-”

“Done.”

“Excuse me, what.....” Wooyoung turned away in surprise from the argument he was having with his friend. 

At this point I was desperate. Wooyoung’s eyes turned to saucers as I started pulling out all the cash in my wallet (which was quite a bit). “How much?” The two of the just stood staring at the money in my hand. “Not enough?” I heaved an anxious sight before looking over my shoulder at my friends. “Yunho give me your wallet.” 

Not batting an eye, the tall dancer gave it to me and let me start taking cash out of his billfold. I handed them the thick stack of cash, looking at them expectantly. Slowly, Wooyoung reached out and pocketed the money before speaking again. 

“You know I was just going to ask for a selfie, but that works too.”

Previous Chapter   ☁   Next Chapter

Blue Skies M.List

Masterlist

#kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong imagines #kim hongjoong smau #kim hongjoong single parent au #kim hongjoong imagine #kim hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong oneshot #kim hongjoong parent au #kim hongjoong au imagine #kim hongjoong au #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez #ateez au imagine #ateez au imagines #ateez imagines #ateez smau #ateez reactions #ateez soulmate au #ateez masterlist #ateez single parent au #ateez preferences #ateez college au #ateez school au #kpop imagines #kpop preferences #rubber ducky you're the one #ateez social media au

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 1

Thank you to the client for commissioning me! This is gonna be a long one! I love Joker and Persona 5 is my second favorite fandom after Danganronpa! Exctied to be working on this.

Around 2.6k words, SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader! - Admin Myah

Shujin Academy could be silent as the grave in the earliest hours of the morning, and yet seem so deafening. It was almost guaranteed that at least thirty new rumors were spreading throughout the student body at any given time, and the overwhelmingly hostile environment that created made the air heavy. With all the teenage angst, hormones, hatred, circles of venomous malice, it was no wonder so many loners could be spotted on academy grounds. That’s just how it was at Shujin: you either had a clique, or you had no one. It was no surprise, then, that you simply kept your head down, minded your business, and got to know no one. Miraculously, though, gossip abound about you still, at least two or three preposterous examples of hearsay and stories. But hey, what could you do? That was in all actuality, pretty low for a single Shujin student. God help the students who actually did make their opinions known, express themselves through clothing and cosmetics, and dared to swim against the current.

You shuffled through the first floor, the absolute blandness of that April morning perpetuating your usual routine: arrive at Shujin, check your locker, scribble down any notes and ideas that came to you in your dreams last night to put into your next short story, and of course check for new posts in the group chat, where your only friends resided. You wouldn’t be caught dead associating with anyone here at the school, it would simply be mental and social suicide, and quite frankly, you didn’t have the constitution for that.

Peeking up for a split second to avoid any collisions, you quickly slid to the left and ducked into a nearby alcove, successfully escaping the gaze of the oncoming wall of muscle and testosterone that was Coach Kamoshida, the plague of Shujin Academy. It was the best case scenario that Kamoshida remained ignorant to one’s very existence, for even those on his good side suffered the consequences. He strode by, shoulders wide and chest puffed out, scanning the halls for girls to harass or boys to intimidate, and once the coast was clear and he was a safe distance away, his back facing you, you dipped back out of the rather dusty corridor and back into the light, immediately slipping back into an almost mechanical daily ritual. It took mere seconds: phone screen unlocked, group chat opened, notebook slipped snuggly back under armpit.

“C’mon, man!” An obnoxiously loud voice rang out above the typical tinnitus-like buzz of the hallway, and suddenly your shoulder was thrust forward, body flying to the ground with a forceful shove on the shoulder.

“Aaagh!” Your voice cracked as your knees buckled and you collided roughly with the wooden panels below, your smartphone soaring out of your grip and clinking against the floor. Thank goodness your notebook was safe, at the very least. People gasped and turned to look at the spectacle, including Kamoshida himself, who’d just reached the end of the hall.

“Sakamoto! I see you running in the halls again, I’ll write you up!” He just always had to say something, let the general student body know he was in charge. He cared far more about sounding rough and tough than making sure the student who was just steam-rolled was uninjured. He pointed directly at you and the student that had just dashed by, effectively pummeling you to the ground with a shoulder check. You looked up and just ahead of you, Ryuji Sakamoto was pivoting on one foot, ignoring Kamoshida’s threat entirely to catch his breath and look down at his victim, splayed across the floor.

Ryuji Sakamoto, now that was one of those students mentioned earlier, the kind that dyed his hair, customized his uniform, and didn’t take shit from anyone. He was a pariah, pretty much the opposite of the teacher’s pet… teacher’s pest more like. Sakamoto was the subject of many falsehoods and conjectures, and he was sure to be trouble for anyone associated…

You looked him up and down, halting your unflattering and socially-altered thoughts in their tracks. Didn’t wanna become the very thing you hated. There was no reason to judge Ryuji without first-hand proof.

“Woah! My bad, sorry dude!” He held up one hand submissively, but unfortunately, just as with Kamoshida,  it seemed that you were not his main concern either. Huffing and puffing from the sprint, he looked past you to another male student who was hot on his trail, but this one looked… different.

You’d gone to Shujin Academy for all of your high-school career. It was your third and final year before graduation, and you knew of Sakamoto well enough, but this kid was a mystery… was he new here? He must’ve been. You knew at least the face of every student here in some way or another just through Shujin’s own little eternal game of telephone, and not by any choice of your own. You actively removed yourself from the local goings-on. Was it his first day here, you wondered. Why hadn’t you heard gossip about him yet, especially looking the way he did?

Beauty was a curse - much like any other feature that stood out - at Shujin Academy. If you were too pretty or handsome, you must be sexually promiscuous. On the other hand, if you were too ugly, too nerdy, too quiet, you probably picked your nose and read hentai on the train. There was no winning in this soul-crushing wasteland. Unfortunately for this new-comer, he was outrageously gorgeous.

“Gah, sorry about that…” he sighed, slowing his pace as he passed you by, plucking your phone up from the ground and offering you his hand. You took it and stood with his help. A quick tug and you were to your feet, dusting off your uniform and thanking him for his assistance. “Yeah, no problem… Ryuji’s just… a bit eager I suppose” he chuckled. “Luckily, no cracks!” He turned your phone around in his hand before placing it back into yours.

“Isn’t that the transfer student??? I heard he nearly killed a man!” One random NPC-esque shithead whispered from behind.

“Oh God, figures that freak would gravitate to the new freak…” another responded.

Ah…  and there it was. Why did fate hate you so much that it chose you as Sakamoto’s door mat on this day? You truly must have been fortune’s fool.

“Yeah, good thing…” You eyed the boy before you, taking in what you could of the new student before the short exchange was over, from his face to the delicate yet thick veins protruding from his lithe hands.

He was tall and thin, and would even be considered lanky if not for the lean muscle that lined his frame. He seemed to be better off than the average teen, sporting almost no blemishes or imperfections on his smooth skin. A black, messy mop of hair that looked soft to the touch sat upon his head, falling into his eyes and over the dark frames of his distinct spectacles. These spectacles did nothing to hide the true elegance that gleamed in the eyes behind them. They were a muted, soft grey that was beautifully simple and clean. His uniform was neat and tidy - as opposed to his blonde and brash acquaintance’s - with his pristine white turtleneck gently blanketing a quite prominent Adam’s apple and his school jacket buttoned and ironed perfectly. Lower down, his plaid slacks concealed thighs that strained against the fabric and long legs that ran down into some very - yet again - flawless dress shoes. Yep, that was a brand new uniform, sure enough.

And a brand new student… he just might make a good subject, a new inspiration for your writing, an aura unmarred by the stain this place put on one’s soul. Your opinion of him was fresh, it was new, unaltered, unbiased, and he really was quite beautiful… your mind played with the thought.

“Ah… sorry about this,” he spoke, taking in the whispers all around you, “I probably just ruined your reputation, what with being seen with me an’ all,” he sighed and laughed breathily, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He must’ve been keen to the ways of Shujin already, which was super sad in its own right. “I’m Akira by the way,” he held out a hand, and you shook it hesitantly.

“Eh, doesn’t really bother me. It’s (Y/N), nice to meet you. Sorry you’re feeling the Shujin warm welcome.” That first part was only partly true, but the last half was genuine.

“Anyway…” his voice shook you back out of your contemplative reverie, and you came back to reality to find him also looking you over. Oh right… you were new to him as well… “I gotta go, Ryuji is kind of impatient, I’ve found.”

“Hey! Am not!” Ryuji retorted, brows furrowing before he ran off. Akira’s eyes rolled playfully, before he smiled, waved, and sped off.

You nodded, and quickly pulled out your phone, rushing to the glass doors leading to the courtyard. Anything to get out of the spotlight and harsh crowd of stares, plus, you had a sparkling new idea filling up your cranium, and artistic inspiration could not be wasted. Finding one of the benches placed for student recreation, you set down your school bag and impatiently scrambled for your favorite pen, throwing open your notebook.

“Oh, shoot!” You’d gotten ahead of yourself in all the excitement. Placing the moleskin down, you picked up your phone, hands trembling just a bit, and messaged you friends before anything else. They just had to hear about this.

 ＊

 (Y/N) 9:55 am: Guys guys guys!!!

 Itsuki 9:56 am: What do you want?

 Rin 9:56 am: ???

 Megumi 9:57 am: Shouldn’t you be in class?

 (Y/N) 9:57 am: Shut up I have a free period just listen

You know how I’ve been having writer’s block?

 Rin 9:58 am: Ya

 (Y/N) 9:58 am: Well I just met this new kid, and ideas just started FLOWING.

 Itsuki 9:59 am: Yeah

 Megumi 9:59 am: Yeah we remember nerd

Oh that’s great!

Wait what do you mean?

New kid?

Only we can have you 😭 Don’ go switching up on us. Shujin is

toxic anyway.

 (Y/N) 10:01 am: No no no It’s not like we’re friends, I just met him is all

You know you’re my one and only bby 😘

 Itsuki 10:01 am: New kid???

 Megumi 10:01 am: 😎

 Itsuki 10:02 am: Gross

Also what about me!!!!

 Rin 10:02 am: Me too 😡😡😡

 (Y/N) 10:03 am: You two know you’re included in that???? 🤔🙄

Anyway just listen

I think he may be good inspo for my main character!!!

I was stuck looking for a unique look or face claim or something

But he seems nice enough and he’s good looking!

 Itsuki 10:05 am: You got a crush? Awww I’m telling 😏😏😏😏

 (Y/N) 10:05 am: I swear it’s like we haven’t been friends for years…

You know me, PLEASE don’t be gross

Writing purposes ONLY

 Megumi 10:06 am: I thought you were stuck on the CONTENT, not characters and shit

 (Y/N) 10:06 am: Both!!!! But he’s perfect for the look of my protag

 Itsuki 10:06 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 Megumi 10:07 am: Well I’m happy for you

STOP

 Itsuki 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 Rin 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 (Y/N) 10:08 am: I can see this conversation isn’t going to be productive 

LMAO you’re assholes

＊

 You tucked your phone into your pocket and once again picked up your notebook. Scrawling down some of the details you knew about Akria: his looks, the sound of his voice, the way he carried himself, you quickly became aware that you knew far too little… or rather

 You wanted to know more.

 Standing, you packed your things and set out to find him again…

 Not in the creepy way! You thought to yourself, trying to justify this uncharacteristic choice of yours to actually reach out to someone in real life, to maybe… try to make… friends? You stood there, brows furrowed and a small frown on your face, pondering your options.

“Oh well, all artists must suffer for their work!” You resolved a little too promptly to try to force another encounter with the new kid. He seemed to be special, unique. He seemed to be well aware of the social hierarchy of Shujin, and have a distaste of it at least. Maybe he wouldn’t be… so bad?

Making up your mind, you spent your free period not writing of romance and rebellious characters, but searching for that fluffy-headed newfound hero to your story, however ghoulish and greasy that made you appear. You truly were becoming that “reads-hentai-on-the-train” and stalks cute boys freak your peers thought people like you were, weren’t you?

To your surprise (though maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising with the volume of Sakamoto’s voice) you soon found the gaggle of second-years, model-status beauty Ann Takamaki now added to their number, standing next to the stairs on the third floor, looking quite conspicuous to boot. Noting the suspicious air around the three, you pulled back, hiding behind the corner leading down the next hall. They seemed on edge... maybe now wasn’t the best time to make friends…?

You felt something thump in your chest. Your shoulders sank subconsciously. It felt a little disappointing, disheartening in a way you couldn’t explain. It was a bit intimidating: Ryuji the loudmouth with a temper, the hottest girl in the school, and the cute new kid. You sighed, this was why you never tried to make friends in the first place. Why had you even gotten your hopes up?

These irrational feelings of self-doubt clouded your heart, your head knowing better of course. It was hard to fight thoughts like these, especially for someone like you. On the precipice of making up your mind, deciding to give up and scrap the new novel idea altogether, you were jolted to attention by the sound of shoes scuffling and scrambling up the stairs.

Students aren’t really allowed on the rooftop during school hours unless accompanied by a teacher or given express permission, your thoughts swarmed. Maybe they didn’t know? No, there’s no way. There’s a possibility Akira didn’t know, but Ann and Ryuji had been here for two years... What were they up to?

Your nosiness was regrettably getting the better of you, and you slithered over, careful to pad your steps and tread softly. You didn’t even know what you’d do once you’d cornered the trio on the roof, didn’t know what you’d say. What was there to say? You were never too good with words, that is those not written on paper. Your heart beating out of your chest, you climbed the narrow stairwell and threw open the doors to the roof.

“Huh?” You looked around, dumbfounded. “Hello?” The rooftop area was not that large, all parts of it visible from the door.

There was no one to be found.

“What the hell?” You step forward, thinking you must have been the subject of some prank, but no, upon looking around, all three students were gone without a trace. No school bags, no lunch boxes, no uniform pieces, nothing. Akira, Ryuji, and Ann, all vanished into thin air. There were no hiding spots, none big enough for three people at least. It was dead silent, and only the door you currently guarded provided an exit off of the roof. Your mind wanted to wander to darker places, but if they’d have jumped, there surely would’ve been a commotion either during or shortly after. Frantically, you looked around, feeling like you were going crazy.

“What the fuck?” You pressed the palm of one hand to your forehead, sitting on the ground and crossing your legs.

#x reader #reader insert #persona 5 #fan fiction commissions #writing commission #joker persona 5 #ren amamiya #phantom thieves #Shin Megami Tensei #shin megami tensai persona #Female reader #male reader #gender neutral #y/n #s/o #friends to lovers #slow burn #imagines #reaction #persona 5 royal #commission #fan fiction #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #goro akechi #part 1 #sfw #protagonist x reader #akira kurusu

[thatslikely]

Fireball - F.W.

Fireball- Fred Weasley x fem!reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: food and allusions to sex

Word Count: 3k

A/N: did I go overboard? yes. do I want to go to an amusement park with Freddie? yes.

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and Y/L/N is Your Last Name

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @probably-peeves @anchoeritic @theweasleytwinsgirl @horrorxweasley 

if you wanted to be added, send me a dm or ask!

“Sweetheart, have you got everything all packed up? I hope you didn’t accidentally pack any Canary Creams this time!” Fred jested from the room across the hall of the Burrow as you eagerly stuffed various waterproof jackets, sticky bottles of sunscreen that smelled pungently of hot summer afternoons spent loitering by the lake, and stacks of Muggle ‘cash’ into a small backpack.

“I think so. And do you really have to bring up that one time every time I’m in charge of snacks?” Zipping up the pockets of the sack, you gave it a satisfactory pat. 

“Don’t worry, I thought you still looked cute, even as a bright yellow birdie.” You were helpless to stop your eyes from rolling in your skull with a sarcastic grumble.

As Fred sauntered over to you, arms extended and ready to give you a bear hug, you extolled, “are you excited? Your first time at an amusement park!” His muscular arms tightly wrapped around yours’; so tightly, in fact, that you lifted off the ground, still wrapped his playful yet loving embrace like a familiar blanket of comfort. The shirt handsomely draped over his figure smelled like home; of the common room after the crackling fireplace ceased, the deserted aisles of a fluorescent convenient store at midnight, burnt popcorn kernels smoking from the microwave. 

“Of course I’m excited, Y/N. You’ve only blabbered about this place since the beginning of time. It better live up to the stories you’ve told!” he said cheerfully into your ear, his warm breath fanning your face, causing electric shocks of thrill to pang every one of your nerves. 

“Today’s gonna be so much fun!” Your chest fluttered as Fred gently set you down like a prized china doll, throwing the stuffed backpack over his broad shoulders.

“I hope the fun carries over into tonight, too.” Fred painted a devilishly handsome suggestive smirk on his features, barely fighting off the urge to buckle your knees with his signature wink.

“Oh shove off, Freddie!” you giggled as you friskily swatted your boyfriend’s bicep. “Let’s just focus on the park for now, we can worry about that later.”

His intoxicating lips pressed a small peck to your forehead before he asked, “You ready to go have the best day ever with your impossibly amazing, handsome, clever, boyfriend?”

“Yes, Fred,” you smiled as he unsheathed his spiky-handled wand, “yes!”

With a quick, pickle-jar-lid pop! you and Fred were instantly engrossed in the eye of a large crowd of joyous Muggle families scurrying around in circles reminiscent of the windy spirals of a cyclone. Most grinning adults had a tiny, chubby hand gripped in their palm, and most of the bubbly kids had a drippy strawberry popsicle in theirs’. 

The familiar plaza surrounding you flooded your heart with comfort and security. Wheeled food stands with bright, enthusiastic neon signs formed street-like pathways; the distant screams from speedy roller coaster riders melded with the thematic music echoing from speakers.

“We’re here!” you squealed, running over to a stand to grab a neatly labeled map of the park, despite knowing its layout like the back of your hand. Fred had been prone to getting lost before, especially in non-magical places, such as malls or airports (We have a lost boy named Fred Weasley, lost at gate thirty-six, and he’s looking for his, er- significant other, Y/N Y/L/N. He’s sixteen years old, quite tall, and has bright red hair, impossible to miss. Please come pick him up at the travel counter, thank you). You were tempted to tease him as you handed him the map, but considering the high possibility he had some sort of prank secretly stashed on his person, you wouldn’t dare risk it.

Fred uttered a “whoa,” as he took in his surroundings with enchanted, curious umber eyes, “this place is absolutely wicked.” His gaze then downturned, scanning the map, intently awaiting the vibrant, printed graphics to spring to life like pamphlets in the Wizarding World do.

“The map’s not going to start moving, if that’s what you’re waiting for, silly,” you teased, pointing to your location on the detailed unfolded brochure. 

“Pfft, I knew that.” His insincere arrogance didn’t help to conceal the slight pink tone that heated his cheeks at all. Pure-blood wizards were truly an enigma.

You ignored his unsuccessful cover-up with an expression that screamed, ‘yeah, right’, as you explained to him (a bit condescendingly) like a schoolchild, “we’re right here, at the entrance. There’s a list of the rides, bathrooms, shops, and places to eat off to the side.”

The blazing sun overhead coated your surroundings with tepid, dandelion-hued light, and the relaxed summer breeze softly ruffled your flowy strands of hair, as well as Fred’s. He quickly combed through his fiery mane with his fingers, a smirk quirking his lips at the promise of so many exciting things to do and see.

“We’re gonna start off with my favorite ride ever: The Fireball.”

Fred dropped his jaw to respond, but you wasted no time maneuvering to the beloved orange scream-producer. You hastily snatched his large hand before weaving him through the cluster of people, scuttling towards a looming bright, tiger-orange arc towering above everything in the distance: the peak of the Fireball. The Fireball was the single best roller coaster ever constructed: its seats were comfortable and secure, its extensive track was fluid and fast, and the excellently paired loops and corkscrews were enough to spark terror in even the bravest riders.

You had been savoring the thrill of the beloved flame-colored coaster for as long as your crown had finally surpassed the minimum-height indicating green line on the sign before its intimidating crimson gates so many years ago. 

Tears streamed horizontally across your face, a painful, open-mouthed smile etched onto your features. Screamed giggles echoed from your toothy mouth as you firmly gripped the bar in front of you, letting the rapid twists and turns of the coaster envelop you wholly. By the time the track had slowed and looped back to the station, your head was spinning, allowing you to barely think, let alone walk. Your hair was fluffed out like a bird’s nest but you couldn’t care less. All you knew was, you had to ride Fireball again.

No other coaster could even dream to compete with the beast of an attraction; it drew you in like a magnet, and hadn’t let you go since. Every other ride just felt inexplicably off in a way that even the most eloquent weren’t capable of articulating. And you finally got to share your favorite coaster with the person you undoubtedly love the most: Fred.

“Freddie, are you ready to go on the best roller coaster of all time? It’ll blow your mind!” you excitedly asked, pulling him towards the coaster’s spaghetti-twisted track. The look of pure bliss that exuded from your body was so, so difficult to say no to. There was something so child-like about your pupil’s vivacious glow; it reminded him of the days so long ago when his biggest stressor was whether he should pull a prank on an unsuspecting Ron or Percy next. 

But an equally childish emotion struck his heart: fear. Fred Weasley feared nothing. A furious Umbridge, maniacal Dark Wizards, and even speedy rogue Bludgers wouldn’t even make him flinch. A roller coaster however, was different. Whether it was the sketchy-looking track held together by metal bolts, the loopty-loop that he would surely fall out of, or the fact that it was made by hands, not magic, inexplicable waves of nervousness flooded his body, causing his heart to boom faster and louder in his chest and his palms to condensate with sweat.

“Hey, uh, angel, it’s actually getting pretty hot, don’t ya think? Why don’t we go have some ice cream first, my treat?” Fred nervously asked, an unshakable stutter in his words. He delved into his pocket, revealing fistfull of bills and coins, eagerly looking for an ice cream stand. “I hope you know where the ice cream is?”

“‘Course I do, Freddie. The best cones are this way, follow me.” You giddily guided the lanky ginger through twists and turns, passing a multitude of fun (and tamer) rides Fred had never seen before. At long last, the two of you reached a small, dark and light blue-striped stand with a snowman holding a cone of strawberry deliciousness hung out front. The best ice cream in the whole park.

While the prospect of romantically sharing a cone of ice cream with Fred sounded tooth-rottingly sweet, the both of you were a tad too stubborn to be willing to share a single frozen treat. He did generously give you a lick of his drippy strawberry cone, however, and you relented to his pitiful puppy-dog eyes and quivering lip, letting him have a bite of yours’.

The ice cream almost instantaneously sent Fred back to summers at the Burrow when he was still equally adorable, but a far cry from who he was now. He was short, only an inch or two taller than Ron, his grin was crooked, and the bridge of his nose was dotted with bright orange freckles. Every cherished summer afternoon was spent slashing in the creek, throwing mud pies at Percy, digging up worms in the dirt, and daring Ron to bite into a cattail to see what it tasted like (that didn’t end well).

Once the delicious cream safely resided in your stomachs, you eagerly asked if the vermillion-haired boy across from you was ready to go on the ride of his life. When he responded with an inscrutable expression, the trips of his ears pricking with nervousness, you added persuasively, “c’mon Freddie, the line’s gonna get long if we wait much longer. The park’s filling up fast.” 

“Hey! I have an idea. Instead of waiting in a boring line that’ll take forever,” -he exaggerated each syllable- “I could try to win you a prize at one of those booths over there. How does a giant teddy sound?” The grin on his face was impossible to renounce.

“Only if I get to play too. We’ll see whether you’re gonna be the one lugging around a huge stuffed bear!” 

Fred yanked you to the nearest carnival game like an eager golden retriever, which evidently was a vibrant water gun race. The object of the game was to position your water gun to hit the target perfectly, and whoever held the jet until the quota was filled won. 

Fred slapped a few bills onto the counter proudly, and the Muggle worker eyed him confusedly, before handing back a stack of greens to Fred. “It’s only five to play, sir.”

Fred took the vacant stool to the right to you, eyes glued on the prize: a large, bubble-gum pink teddy bear. Before he could even learn how to play, the bell rang, and water spewed out of the guns in front of you. Easily, you lined up the stream to the orange target before you, causing varicolored lights to flash and spiral., clashing the darkening sky above. Fred, however, wasn’t so lucky; he accidentally drenched the less-than-happy carny’s clownish uniform. The dripping employee sharply handed you the teddy before grumbling for the both of you to leave, preferably immediately.

“Ha! I won!” you boasted, rubbing the plushie in Fred’s amused face as you walked hand-in-hand past coasters and rides. He chucked before grabbing it from your hands, offering, “I’ll hold your prize for you, Miss Champion-water-gunner.”

“Okay, let’s go ride a coaster! I’m sure you know which one I wanna ride by now.” However, Fred was still nervous as ever. He’d never admit it, so naturally, he came up with every possible excuse. 

“I- erm, why don’t we go ride that spinny one over there?” 

“The carousel? That’s a toddler’s ride!”

“If I want to ride a horse-y, I will ride a horse-y!” Fred swooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the roped-off queue bridal-style while you flailed your arms, your face reddening with embarrassment.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself seated on a jewel-embellished caramel horse, one of your hands gripped onto the golden pole lifting your pony up and down in a galloping motion. Your other hand was intertwined with Fred’s, who was perched on a mahogany horse draped in orange and green carpets and tassels beside you. Astonishment swam in his cocoa pools; his toe tapped in the stirrup to the old-fashioned circus music playing, he fiddled with the plastic emeralds of the horse’s bit, and he gave you the most innocent, heart-melting grin you’ve ever seen.

Once the bejeweled horses’ hopping halted, and the melodic recording of the march slowly faded, the sun crept below the horizon, granting the prussian blue air a chilly nip; it looked as if a Monet painting were suspended above the millions of flashing cabochon bulbs. 

“Freddie, it's getting dark. We have time for probably one more ride,” you said, not failing to note the lively glow drain from Fred’s rosy cheeks and faint saffron freckles.“What’s wrong?”

“I uhh… I didn’t want to tell you this before, but…” -he scratched the nape of his neck with furrowed brows- “I’m scared of roller coasters.” Fred cracked a nervous side-mouthed smile. “Something about it just… I feel like I’m gonna fall out!”

“Oh, Freddie, I had no idea,” you said apologetically, resting your hand on his flanneled shoulder. The coruscating glow of the kaleidoscopic lights highlighted the fearful darting of his pupils.

“I wanna ride Fireball, it looks sick, but I’m more scared than I’d care to admit.” 

“Here it’s okay, we can go on a smaller coaster if you want. Rocket’s always a classic, too,” you suggested, gesturing towards a short, blue and silver arch suffused in colorful carnival irradiance.

“No, I need to face my fear! Let’s go ride Fireball, darling. No buts!” Fred ushered you towards the Fireball, despite not having a clue about where it’s spaghetti bowl of track was grounded.

“It’s just like riding a broom! More safe, actually.” Fred lifted the chains of the queue for the both of you to mischievously slip under; you were pleasantly surprised to see the line was relatively short. 

“Oh by the way, you better not tell anyone that I, Fred Weasley, star Quidditch player and most popular student, actually can get scared, or expect a foul prank in your future.” Fred embraced you with a hug from behind, not shy of showing some more risque displays of affection to the other teenaged riders to cement the unwavering fact that you were his, and only his.

“Well someone doesn’t seem so nervous anymore,” you teased, poking his chiseled chest playfully.

“What can I say? You’re too distracting.”

You gave him a sarcastic simper as you pulled him by the collar closer and closer to the loading station which was packed with workers and thrill-seekers alike. Fred continued to stay tricksy, a permanent smug smirk upturning his lips as his hands stayed glued to your body, in one place or another.

At long last, the mechanical locking of lap bars and revving of coaster-cars stiffened the slightly cocky Weasley (his nervous form reminded you oddly enough of a breadstick). You gave him more compassionate touches of affection, combing your fingers through his messy hair and tracing small circles on his back, humming.

When the menacing silver gates opened, allowing the two of you to climb inside the fire-truck red carts, Fred looked as if he would explode at any given moment. You grabbed his large, defined hand, your thumb soothingly rubbing vertical strokes on his metacarpal. Fred’s knees were nearly level with your chest once he was securely seated; the lap bar was generous with your wiggle room, but you didn’t mind, as long as Fred felt safe.

Fred’s hand’s grip was tight on yours’; you could feel his heart pump through each of his branchy veins rapidly. He asked seconds before the train was off to slowly climb the first daunting hill, “promise me you won’t let go?”

“I’ll never let you go, promise.”

The next approximately two minutes of ride time were a fantastic blur, just as magical as anything the Wizarding World had to offer. Streaks of golden lights shone around snippets of swirling orange tracks that subjected your body to addicting G force. Your weightless figure flew up and down serpent-esque hills and valleys, you were firmly pressed into your seat, hair hanging down in a flame shape on loopty-loops, and on corkscrews you swear your insides were rearranged.

As promised, you didn’t let go of Fred, in fact the opposite. On the first steep drop, he mustered the courage to hold your intertwined fingers above his head as he emitted a bellowing scream of raw pleasure. He submitted to the following expertly engineered twists and turns, letting his lanky body swish and fly at the mercy of the ride. It felt like a fierce match of Quidditch to him, except for the fact that his eyes were scrunched closed with joy, not open and alert for Bludgers. 

Once Fireball came to an impossibly speedy ending, reality smacked you like a bus. As you got up from your seat to exit the dock, your legs wobbled and shook due to the copious amounts of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You concernedly surveyed Fred, who graciously supported you out of the station.

You peeled your awe tingling lips open to ask how he felt, and almost physically, he uttered a single, “wicked!” 

“How could I have been ever scared of that? I feel like my bones are shaking inside of me!” he managed to exuberantly smile. He swished his arms back and forth pure joy flooding through him, prickling at his every nerve.

“I’m so glad you had fun, Freddie.”

“Thanks for helping me, y’know, have fun, let loose. I feel alive in a way I never have before, it’s insane!”

“I think we may be able to squeeze in one more ride. Wanna go for round 2?”

Fred pressed a rough, passionate kiss to your unsuspecting lips, his electric taste overwhelming you, coating every inch of yourself with red-hot desire, a new and welcome sensation that would linger for weeks.

“You know it.”

#fred weasley #fred and goerge weasley #fred and george #fred weasley x reader #fred and george weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x #fred weasley and george weasley #fred weasley au #fred weasley blurb #fred weasley drabble #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley hc #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley story #the weasley twins #weasley twins #the weasleys #weasley wizard wheezes #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harrypotter #harry potter fic

[justanotherteentitansblog]

Bbrae Week 21 Day 6 Fantasy

The sky had turned twilight orange and blue and the air was cool and crisp. The brave knight known only as Mavis the Formidable had just taken off her armor after a long battle with the dreaded 3 headed tiger, Cereberus. The knight needed rest for tomorrow was another day of full of many battles to be fought and only she was strong enough to keep her kingdom safe- 

“Mavis!” the girl’s emerald-skinned older sister had popped her head into her room, “Mom says she wants you to…. What are you doing?” 

The purple-haired 4 year old was balanced precariously on the top of her headboard facing the window. A blue towel was tied around her shoulders and her fists were confidently placed at her hips. 

Mavis narrowed her eyes at her older sister, “I’m playing knights,Phoenix. Duh!” she said, sticking her tongue out at her. 

The 10 year old nodded her head at her sister’s antics “Right...anyway mom wanted me to come get you to see--” 

Mavis jumped off the bed and ran towards her sister, arms waving in excitement as she interrupted her, “Wait, wait, you can be the wizard who helps me fight Cereberus the 3 headed Tiger! Come on, put this on,'' She shouted running to grab one of her mother’s old cloaks she let her use to play pretend. 

“OK, A, I’m telling mom you’re fighting the cat again.” 

“NNNOOOo!” Mavis whined. 

“And B, why would I be the wizard when you’re the one with psychic powers?” 

“BeCAUSE, Phoenix! I have the magical sword!” Mavis spit, pulling a stick she found from the backyard behind her back. In a flash, Phoenix’s hand whipped out towards the stick and snatched it from her younger sister. “Now ya don’t,”  she teased, morphing into a puppy and running down the stairs with the stick in her mouth. 

Mavis screeched and launched herself down the stairs after her sister. “Giveitbackgiveitbackgiveitback!” 

When Phoenix reached the bottom of the stairs, a tall green man snatched up the green puppy from the ground mid-run and ripped the stick from her mouth. The guilty changeling morphed back into a 10 year old in her father's arms and gave him a look that would melt anyone else’s heart on contact. Garfield rolled his eyes at his daughter. 

“You can’t get me with the puppy dog eyes, Phoenix. I invented them.” 

At that moment, Mavis had arrived at the bottom of the stairs where her father stood holding her older sister by the waist in one arm and the stick in his left hand. The impatient girl started jumping up and down at the stick just slightly out of her reach. 

“Dad! Dad! My Sword!” 

Gar looked at this hand and then at his child and a slow smile crept over his face. 

“Ah Mavis the Formidable, I believe this belongs to you,” he said, handing her the stick. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” turning to stick her tongue out at Phoenix. 

Just then, the girls’ mother came up from the stairs to the basement with a sour look on her face as she approached her children. 

“Mavis, would you like to explain why I just had to untie the cat from the radiator in the basement?” 

She turned to Phoenix, “Or would you like to explain why I asked you to see if your sister wanted to go to the tower with you and Dad, and I instead hear her screaming at the top of her lungs? Should I even mention the fact that I specifically told you no morphing in the house, and you, no sticks longer than your arm in the house.” She scolded both of her children with equal intensity. 

Gar looked at his wife, “You told her no sticks?” 

“Only her arm’s length-long, after what happened this morning.” Raven said, pulling her hair up to show her husband the welt on the back of her neck. Mavis had been practicing wielding her “Sword” while Raven was trying to fold laundry that morning. 

“Well that’s an easy fix” he said, pulling the stick back out of Mavis’s hand and snapping it in half, making it an arms length. 

“MY SWORD!” the girl wailed. 

Gar stared at Mavis in the eyes and warned, “You could have no sword at all. Now the both of you need to apologize to your mother!” 

Both girls sighed, and rolled their eyes, “Sorry Mom,” they said in unison. 

Raven sighed and recollected herself. Other than poor Cerberus getting tortured, most of what they were doing was not a big deal, but Raven would have to have ANOTHER talk with Mavis about including live animals into her pretend games. 

Raven looked at her girls. Phoenix who was green and lanky like her father but otherwise had her mother’s face. She had thick green hair that was always pulled into a ponytail with a heavy bang that covered the matching chakra she shared with her mother. While Mavis had her pale skin and wild purple hair that stuck out all over the place complete with her father’s smile and ears. They were going to be the absolute death of her. 

Raven pinched the bridge of her nose and looked at her younger daughter. “Phoenix is going to the tower to train with Dad. Do you want to come with them or stay at home?”  

Mavis wrinkled her nose in thought, “Will Mar’i be at the tower?” 

“ I don’t know, I can find out and if not we can see about going to Aunt Kori’s if you don’t want to go to the tower.”

“OK! I just want to play with Mar’i” 

Raven went to make the phone call, while Gar rushed Phoenix upstairs to get dressed for training exercises. Mavis the Formidable, however, had decided it was time to visit the Witches' Den. It was time to make potions. 

Mavis the Formidable had visited the Witches’ Den many a time to create potions to take on her amazing quests, but everytime she had gotten found herself caught and placed onto the chair of eternity. The witch in charge of the den had warned Mavis that the items in this room were not to be trifled with, but Mavis knew she was a strong warrior and wise enough to correctly use any potion within these ancient walls all on her own. Mavis reached up to grab a glass bottle with pink sand and--

“If you touch that, you can forget about going to see Aunt Kori and Mar’i.” 

Mavis wilted as her mother approached her. She never let her play in the meditation room and everything in there looked so cool! 

“But MOM, I need to make potions or I can’t fight the dragons!” 

Raven sighed but then smirked at her daughter's active imagination. 

“Oh well why didn’t you just say so, Mavis the Formidable.” 

Raven grabbed an empty orb shaped bottle and poured a clear liquid from another bottle inside, the pink sand Mavis had originally reached for, three small black stones and a powder that made it shimmer when it was shaken.

“There, one dragon slaying potion. Don’t drop it”  she said with a wink. 

“Thank you, kind witch” she said, giving her mom a hug. 

Raven narrowed her eyes at her daughter, “You’re pushing it.” 

Mavis quickly corrected herself, “Thank you, Mommy.” 

“Mmhhmm, you wanna go to Aunt Kori’s then?” 

“Can we teleport there?” Mavis begged. 

“Mavis, the last time we teleported anywhere you wouldn’t stop crying for half an hour and wouldn’t sleep in your own bed for a week.” 

Mavis crossed her arms and began pouting “Well you wouldn’t turn on the light inside the portal” 

“Mavis, for the last time, there is no light inside mommy’s magic, it’s all--I’m not having this argument again. If you want to go, get your shoes on, we’re driving there.” 

Mavis pouted for a moment and then looked up at her mother through her eyelashes. 

“Can I wear my rain boots?” 

“If you dress yourself, you are welcome to wear whatever you want.” 

“OK!” Mavis shouted, bolting up the stairs, dragon potion in hand. 

Upon arriving at Kori’s, Mavis impatiently unbuckled herself from the carseat and began whining as her mother was taking too long to help her out of the seat. 

“Hold on, Mavis, let me get my bearings,” she said as she helped the girl out of the car. 

Kori was standing by the front door waving them in when Mavis went racing past her into the house, “HiAuntKoribyeAuntKori!” she shouted behind her. 

Kori chuckled at the sight while Raven rolled her eyes in exasperation. 

“Awesome manners, kid. You’d think nobody taught you them.” She deadpanned in the direction her child ran. 

Kori shook her head in bemusement, “How do you keep up with that one?” 

Raven scoffed, “You think I keep up with her?” 

Mavis tore through the house looking for her friend, finally she spotted Mar’i through the sliding glass door to the backyard, swinging on a rope swing. Mavis attempted to move the door but it was locked. She pushed and pulled and scrambled up hanging on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Slowly, Raven came walking behind her child and quietly unlocked the door while Mavis was still hanging onto the handle. At the first sign of her new found freedom, Mavis threw open the glass door and raced across the patio to her friend. 

Upon seeing Mavis, Mar’i jumped off the swing and ran to meet her. They two girls embraced each other tightly until Mar’i tackled them both to the ground, causing both girls to start giggling. 

Raven and Kori walked out to the patio to halfway supervise the girls but mostly to catch up and chat. 

Before the girls could get up and start playing, Raven called out a warning, “If you get hurt doing something stupid or something you’re not supposed to do, I’m not using any healing powers on either of you.” 

Mavis rolled her eyes at her mother while Mar’i simply nodded in agreement. “OK!” 

Mavis turned to Mar’i excitement coloring her face, “Mar’i guess what I have?” she asked, holding the bottle her mother gave her behind her back. 

“What? What is it?” 

Mavis proudly showed off the potion her mother made, “It’s dragon slaying poison, do you wanna fight the dragon with me?” 

Mar’i looked into the bottle's contents and swirled it around. “Are you sure, this is dragon poison? It looks like water and pink sand.” 

“Of course it’s dragon poison! My mom made it and my mom makes all kinds of stuff like this!” 

Mar’i shrugged her shoulders, “OK, can I be the princess this time?” 

“Sure!” Mavis shrugged back and went to find a new sword stick. 

After finding a stick much longer than her arm, getting scolded by her mother, and then finding a much smaller stick, the heroes set off on their adventure. 

The two adventurers had set off on a most gruesome task. A great dragon had taken over the nearby village and stolen all their resources. The village's only hope was now Mavis the Formidable and Princess Mar’i. Mavis only armed with her sword and her dragon slaying potion, and Mar’i with her flight and starbo--

“Hey wait a minute, why do you get to use your powers?! Mom, why does Mar’i get to use her powers?” She shouted running towards her mother. 

“Mar’i’s powers work differently than yours do, she can use hers without hurting anyone, which is something you can’t quite do yet.” 

Mavis stomped her foot and tears formed in her eyes,”That’s not fair, I want these off.” She shoved the silver cuffs that contained her power in Raven’s face.

Raven put a calm hand to her daughter’s hands and lowered them away from her face, “Your sister had to wear them until she was 6, and even then she only had them off for a few hours at a time. I’m sorry Mavis, but they’re there to keep you and everyone else safe.” This was a very rehearsed and familiar conversation Raven had practiced from years of dealing with the subject with Phoenix, who beforehand would turn into any animal she thought of with no control over it at all. 

It was very clear to everyone that Mavis was about to have a meltdown before Mar’i interrupted, “That’s ok! I just won’t use my powers!” 

Mavis sniffed, “Really?” 

“Yeah of course! I might fly on accident though, cause when I’m really happy, I fly.” 

Mavis rubbed her eyes, “That’s OK, you can fly us to the dragon!” Mavis was already picking the game back up where they had left off. 

“Oooh Yeah!” Mar’i agreed, floating a few feet in the air and reaching for Mavis’s hands. 

Raven stiffened, and Kori gave a warning, “No higher than the bottom of the tree branches, Mar’i and don’t drop her.” Mar’i nodded in agreement and Raven relaxed a little, since Mavis could definitely survive that fall if Mar’i did drop her. 

As the two young warriors flew off on their great quest, they came to a great mountain, complete with a rickety bridge that led to a separate deeply sloping mountain. Mavis the Formidable, was first to climb the great mountain with ease as she held within her tiny body the strength of a thousand suns, but as Mar’i attempted to climb the mountain she had lost her footing and the warrior princess began to slip. “Mavis!” She yelled to the knight in front of her. Mavis had reached the top of the mountain and turned to her companion. “Mar’i!” the brave warrior shouted from several miles above her. 

“I’m slipping, I can’t hold on!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you!” Mavis yelled from the top of the mountain throwing the princess a long rope to help her climb to the top. 

Mavis’s blue towel that was previously wrapped around her shoulders smacked Mar’i in the face and she fell backwards off the playset. Mar’i lay flat on the ground looking up at Mavis with rage in her eyes, “Ow! Mavis!” 

Mavis started waving her arms around excitedly, “I'm so sorry, are you ok?” 

Just then Kori and Raven ran over to see if Mar’i was ok. After a quick but thorough inspection, it was deemed that Mar’i was ok, just irritated. Raven shot Mavis an irritated look, “Mavis what possessed you throw the towel on Mar’i’s face?” 

“No, mom, listen, I didn’t throw it at her, she was slipping off the mountain and I was trying to save her!” 

Raven smacked a hand to her face, she was getting really sick of the knights game. “Ok new rule, you’re not climbing anything together!” 

Mavis and Mar’i sighed knowing this part of their game was now over. The two mothers walked away leaving the girls to play together once again. 

Mavis approached Mar’i but the other girl pouted and crossed her arms at her friend. 

Mavis pleaded at her raven haired friend, “I really didn’t mean to, I promise!” 

“Hmpf!” Mar’i huffed and turned away from the mini empath, “I don’t want to play with you anymore!” 

Mavis’s eyes started to well up with tears at the rejection of her best friend until suddenly inspiration struck her.

“WAIT!” she shouted, taking the towel off her shoulders, “You can have my cape if you’ll be my best friend again.” 

Mar’i straightened up in shock, “Really?” 

“Uh-huh! Will you still be my friend?” Mavis implored her friend. 

“Of course!” Mar’i said, standing up and putting the towel over her own shoulders. 

Mavis breathed a sigh of relief as she stood with her friend and continued their game. 

Beneath the mountain where the heroes had fallen they discovered a vast cave ripe for exploring. The cave was cold and dark, they had made an attempt at a fire to warm themselves up, but the cold winds within the cave kept blowing it out like a birthday candle. Mavis could make out ancient runes inscribed in the cave’s walls that quickly lead the two to the innermost part of the cave. 

It wasn’t too long until the adventurers heard heavy breathing in the darkness that didn’t belong to either of the pair. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the girls screeched in terror. 

Looking at them were several jackalopes, with their teeth bared and ready to attack the young girls. Mar’i attempted to run to the safety of the queen but Mavis the Formidable, knew exactly what to… 

Kori looked up from the conversation she was having with Raven when she heard Mavis scream what could only be described as a warrior cry. “Raven...I don’t mean to alarm you but, your daughter is running and screaming manically with 3 baby bunnies in her arms.” 

Raven took a deep shaky breath and closed her eyes, trying to find a state of calm. After several attempts to find a meditative state, a nearby bird's nest exploded as Raven finally lost her patience, “MAVIS ANGELA LOGAN! DROP THE BUNNIES!” 

Mavis, the formidable once again found herself caught within the grasp of the evil witch and her chair of eternity. Days stretched into years and years stretched into decades as the adventurer found herself bound to the evil throne. 

No amount of pleading and bargaining with the cruel witch would change her mind as the warrior was only met with hushes and dark glares that she learned in witch language meant “shut up”. Just when Mavis thought she would be left to perish cold and alone in the chair of eternity a glorious sound parted the clouds and rang through the heavens. 

Beep, Beep, Beep. The timer on Raven’s phone went off signaling to Mavis that her timeout was over. Mavis eagerly lept from the chair but Raven stopped her before she could run back into the backyard. “Uh-uh, you’re not getting away that easily!” 

Mavis wilted and shuffled back over to her mother to get a talking to. Just as Raven was about to start scolding Mavis, the sliding glass door opened and out stepped Phoenix, Garfield and Dick. 

Garfield knew his youngest daughter like the back of his hand and knew what the look on her face meant. “Oh no, what did you do this time?” he asked Mavis casually. 

Raven narrowed her eyes at Mavis while speaking to her husband, “Your daughter is trying to catch wild animals to play with them again.” 

“How come she’s always my daughter when she’s in trouble?” The changeling asked. 

“Because Phoenix is my daughter when she’s in trouble, this was our agreement, I get the mean one and you get the feral one.” 

“Right, I forgot about that. You want me to handle this one?” 

“I would love nothing more.” 

With that, Raven turned to her older daughter to get the details of how her training went, while Garfield crouched down to his youngest daughter. 

“Are you out here driving your mother crazy?” 

Mavis cracked a small smile. 

“It’s not funny, Mavis,” he warned. 

“Well I was just trying to play with Mari and we were playing knights and we wanted to go on a quest to find the dragon but mom won’t let me use my powers or a sword or chase jackalopes and then I accidently hurt Mar’i with a towel but I was just trying to save her from falling off a mountain and-” 

Gar threw up his hand to silence his child’s rambling. “What’s this about a dragon?” 

Raven side eyed her husband and smirked knowing where he was going with this by the tone of his voice. 

Mavis continued on, “There’s a dragon, and it’s attacking the whole village and-” 

Gar cut her off again and began inching towards Raven. “I see, Mavis, does the dragon look anything like this?” he questioned as he threw his wife over his shoulder, morphed into a pterodactyl and flew several feet in the air with Raven on his back. 

Raven no longer found her husband's antics amusing as she desperately clung to his neck to avoid a sudden drop. “GARFIELD MARK LOGAN YOU BETTER NOT DROP ME I SWEAR TO GOD!” 

Mavis the Formidable was finally face to face with her enemy the dragon and he had captured the witch. Normally this would’ve been something to celebrate, but the witch was sometimes nice. She was the best at reading bedtime stories and always had really good snacks, so Mavis couldn’t let her get eaten by the dragon yet. 

Mavis wielded her arm-sized sword and began to swing at the dreaded dragon. The dragon flew close to the ground but continued to dodge Mavis’s attacks with ease. All seemed hopeless until Mavis remembered the dragon slaying potion the witch had made for her. Mavis pulled the bottle out of her back pocket, popped the cork, tilted her head back and chugged the potion. 

Raven’s eyes went wide as she watched her child attempt to chug what was essentially salt water and fall to her hands and knees, gagging. Raven stifled a chuckle until she burst out into a fit of giggles. 

“You’re not supposed to drink it you dork, you’re supposed to throw it at the dragon!” she said through fits of laughter. 

Gar quickly morphed back into his human form also laughing and let Raven get down off of his back. 

“Are you going to be ok?” he asked, trying to stifle his own laughter. 

“That was so yucky” she managed to cough out and dramatically pretended to die. 

By this point, she had everyone in the backyard laughing including herself. Gar went over to pick the child up, when suddenly her eyes shot open and she shoved the stick between his arm and chest. Gar immediately went along with the game. “AAHHHHH YOU KILLED ME” He screamed, falling to the ground next to Mavis. 

Raven walked over to the two impressed, “That was pretty clever Mavis the Formidable. You wanna go get some water to wash out that potion taste?” 

“And a snack?” 

“Sure Mavis, and a snack” 

THE END. 

#bbraeweek21 #Phoenix and Mavis #None of you understand this fic is my baby #I love this story so much its probably my favorite one ive ever written #y'all wanted more bbrabies #bbrae #bbrae fanfiction

[hhjs]

summary ➝ "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigating the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

"Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart.

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love meant to be understood.

It was meant to be felt.

word count ➝ 16.6k words.

alternatively➝ university premise.

genre ➝ angst, romance??? comedy??? a smidge of drama??? idk

pairings➝ han jisung. x fem reader.

warnings ➝ recreational drinking, use of profanity, suggestive.

note➝ i suspect that i have a vague emotional attachment to this. Please note that it used to be a jeonghan fic originally but is now rewritten.  i've been toying around with my writing style, idk if this has met what's expected :c but... this piece is a proper example of the idiots to lovers trope. 

a huge thanks to @emhpathy​ for beta-reading. 

 also i felt indolent and didn’t edit. :(

loosely based on the Coldplay song in question, ‘A Message’.

After. 

The air smells like seasalt. Like having a foamy blanket of  waves draped over your face until you let go, slowly, let all the air leave your lungs. 

In the distant rhythm of the rattling wind, you can barely hear the ring of childish laughter. It's an old bicycle Minho last rode when he was 13. Jisung's driving too fast. But you don't care, you don't care because you feel just so alive. You can feel your heart on your tongue. Under your fingertips. Inside your chest.

You can't believe it's true. Can't believe this is your life. Can't believe you're real.

The city is a haze of blue and yellow and red. Jisung slows down by the sidewalk, leaning into the wash of colours and it  stains the side of his face a little. The breeze is caressing his hair. Patting stubborn gelled strands out. His shoulders rise and fall with every little movement, upwards and downwards. When he breathes in and when he breathes out. Everything seems to slow down. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute like an hour.

 Then suddenly- and it surprises you a little - Jisung pauses, cranes his neck back to smile at you. It's lopsided, toothy. He looks so much younger. Suddenly, so utterly boyish. You commit the sight to memory, the sliver of his teeth, the glint in his eyes, the curl of his mouth -

You hope you never forget this.

 Because this is how you know. This is how you've always known.

You wouldn't change anything. Even if you could go back.  

Not for a second. Not when it hurt. Not when it was hard.

Not even once.

...

Bach's  Toccata & Fugue in D Minor. 

You're in your bedroom, you can hear the music in your head, the crescendos and diminuendos, the feather light piano, the strum of a guitar and the gargling of a trumpet, fingers buzzing with an intense desire to write it all down. But then the sound of an organ rips through the air, the curtains pull apart. Your bedroom floor gives away from under your feet. There is a stage, there is an audience impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say.

So you run, run, run home.

You remember standing in front of your mum's bedroom. Knocking. When she lets you crawl back under the covers and she runs a caressing hand down your back, you say nothing. (There seems to be a gaping hole in your chest. And you don't understand it. Like something's missing.) . When she traces the shape of your jaw and says trouble sleeping? you say nothing. Then the rain pelts the windows, the curtains are  pulled; suddenly it's so much darker, so much colder, you place a hand over your heart and then look up at her, up to her large, concerned eyes and say, "It hurts."

 But it's okay. It's okay. You'll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.  Because your mum smells like home, like the earth after it rains. It's okay because the world is less scary when you're a kid. When you don't understand.

 Then you're on a train, it skids against its tracks and your hand hurts from holding onto the handle for too long. You hold your draft against your ribs.There are too many people. Shoulders. Heads. Standing. Sitting. Their lives are different. Even when they're together. 

From here, you can make out a woman stroking her toddler's cheek, a teenager with a copy of A Tale Of Two Cities in hand, a tall man, with his head hung low. He is smiling down at his lover. His fingers splay against her throat. She is looking at him. They say nothing. 

 She stands on her toes and kisses him. And something inside you suddenly comes alive, an absence, tries to gnaw its way out of your ribcage. Tries to tell you I've never left. 

The train finds itself in the belly of a tunnel. Outside, it's so much darker. So much colder. There's a blinking streetlight ahead. Yellow and lime green. It must have been raining. You don't know your stop.     

All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players. This is a stage. 

The passengers are impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say. You can't run this time.

(You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. This city. Something is missing. Something is wrong. You need to get away.)

Now you wait for a room. A door. A bed. And miss your mother with an intensity that's akin to taking a punch to the gut. You don't remember what the earth smells like anymore. Everything in the city is platform and concrete. And soot rising from tall  chimneys.

Suddenly, you can't believe childhood is over.

Spurts of light found themselves against the hallway ceiling, you wondered how long you'd been thinking about that nightmare for it to take so much of your attention. A mic involuntarily roars to life, reminding you that you were still at the varsity and you had to find Jisung. 

Which sounds easy, had it not been for your history with him. Avoiding him was getting progressively hard a task to maintain because you were in the same department, sharing minor courses that prompts you to think that nothing much had changed and you'd be lying if you said you mind. He is a stubborn page which keened on flipping over in the youthful chapters of your life, refusing to be left behind and some part of you is too scared to know what would happen if you had.

You sigh, looking at the clock nailed to one of the pale yellow pillars and then close your eyes to try to ease the tension in your shoulders. Breathing in. Breathing out.  This morning, you put on a thin cotton dress but the humidity had somehow prompted it to appear somewhat translucent.

Summer brushes up against the back of your neck, you rub your eyes vigorously, placing your sweaty palms on them, dapples of light settled atop  the lids. Coating the little twists of purplish veins pink and white, becoming brighter and brighter and brighter. Any minute now and you would muster up the courage to face him.

You push the field door open.

Football players for the born-again team are loitering about in the heavily populated room, expectants look on most of their faces. You begin to feel twice as much nervous than you did before. 

See, the possibility of stuttering nonsensical sentences and potentially embarrassing yourself in front of Jisung and nameless strangers, again, wasn't the most thrilling idea for you but if you don't make the deadline this time on this group assignment, you'll fail your linguistics course, so it  would be tough to bounce back from for the both of you.

The coach, who is a lanky man, with an alarmingly ruddy face and tufts of snow white hair spiralling out of his head, experienced a lot of difficulty blowing it away from his line of sight. With the  door held back, pressing a curious looking opaque board to his chest, he scans the entirety of the team with an owlish stare, when he was satisfied with the number of persons attending, he stepped in.

"Game starts in 10 minutes." he pauses, allowing the candidates to settle in. A feet away from you, Changbin produces a series of garbled profanities before going back greedily guzzling down the rest of his gatorade.

Once the coach clears his throat, his beady eyes travelling from one curious face to another, flitting between each person, it finds you briefly then it darts curiously across the scenery behind you, as though an explanation for your presence is out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

You hold the assignment packet against your chest, feeling the weight of gel blue letters under the rough pad and then slowly fold it open.

Han jisung. You tell him, that's who I'm looking for. 

It takes you awhile to navigate your gaze to the owner of the name amidst the maze of students huffing and puffing about schedules and missing lectures and deadlines, some shouldering their way out in bored frowns, some smiling excited smiles, rushing to grab a suitable seat. Like a blur of faces you catch on the subway and eventually forget, the little snippets of another person's life. Glimpses of them from car windows pressed together in traffic, just a few seconds before the light turns green. One minute you think you know them, put yourself in their shoes and imagine their life for them and the next, you go back to being strangers. 

To you, Jisung's face is an unmistakable, unforgettable kind of face. 

Taunting you from posters of his many swim team accomplishments, under which his name stood in big bold yellow letters, plastered on the noticeboards, on the  walls where the paint was starting to crack. The search didn't prove to be very difficult even though he didn't stick out like a sore thumb without his signature bleached blonde hair.

A varsity jacket is discarded on his body. Under the blue and yellow fabric, Jisung's chest rises and falls with every breath, his lanky legs perched up on the bleachers.  You wonder how he managed to doze off in the face of all this tension about getting clocked in face with a football. 

Aside from by accident, you were positive he hadn't tried to speak to you ever since your previous, unspeakably embarrassing encounter. 

That was a long time ago. 

It was certain that had it not been for this assignment, things between you would remain that way. In spite of this, you've gathered, because people never stop fawning over this prominent character, that not much has changed since you were in school.

Jisung managed to secure an attention drawing position wherever he went and upperclassmen wanted to be his friend even though he mostly indulged only in his own company. 

His head rests on folded arms, his foot is propped up on his knee, which he keeps shaking.  Sunlight crawls up the expanse of his exposed cheek, allowing burnt orange to  bathe half of his face, ribbons of liquid light tapering to smudges down the side of his jaw and disappearing.

Jisung has a boyish face, his eyes are big and kiddish, paired with a sharp nose and a convenient, small, pinkish mouth inherently pouted out to accentuate his puffy squirrel like cheeks but slimming down around his jaw. His raven hair falls in sleek, wet tufts clinging to his forehead and grazing his rosy cheeks, giving him a strange resemblance to a cherub loitering around in the real world.

Come to think of it, Jisung looks, like he invariably does, just slightly out of place.

You drop your bag on the grass. The action makes an unexpected thump. His eyes stir  faster behind closed eyelids, as though he were stirring awake from an ardently produced dream, like a newborn baby, divorced from the worries of the world. Jisung opens one of his eyes, then another, glaring confusedly, his lips pursed in unspoken surprise.

What's the big deal, right? At best, he'll start cooperating with you. At worst, you imagine, he'll toss you across the field for disrupting his sleep.

Of course, no one in their right minds would opt for the latter option, the rational part of you reasons - but you show him the packet,  just for safety measures.

"I thought we ought to go over how we're going to work around this assignment and you weren't in class so..."  You explain. When Jisung just blinks up at you in a curious fashion, you consider that he might not recognise you at all, that, for some reason, bothers you. "You probably don't remember me I-"

"I remember." He interjects firmly, acknowledging you with a fluent utterance of your name that gives you enough evidence of his claim, followed by a watchful, stoic gaze, he motions for you to take a seat beside him. 

You hesitantly sit at the end of the row,  keeping a calculated distance between your bodies. You find that even after all this time looking him in the eye was just as unnerving as it had been the first time they shyly flickered back to yours from across a thick spined A levels Calculus textbook. There's still an intimidating air about him, something that seeks to be constantly impressed without asking to.

Jisung sits up straighter, setting both his legs on either side of the bench, he keeps his gaze trained on your face, not looking away once. "Go on." He suggests, his voice low, "What do we have to do?"

You perk up at this, taking the contents out of the packet. Setting them down before you, you reiterate the instructions rendered in class, trying to include every important detail which contributes to the making of the project.

"We have to attach a PowerPoint part too." You paused, "Let's do that bit today."

Jisung listens intently, never cutting you off, he nods occasionally, making suggestions when you were trying to look for suitable loops in your schedules to work on the scheme, you recommended  several premises, ranging from cafés to parks to libraries to food courts, even your place because it's the closest from Jisung's flat and he refuses go beyond the distance on a Sunday morning. You casually let in the fact that your flatmate would be there in order to insinuate that you hadn't made the offer because of your previous feelings for him.

 You sigh, taking a minute to stretch back and take a deep breath. The bench is cool under your thighs, soft caresses of a warm summer breeze brushing the hair from your face away, pale yellow pours from the canopies, staining the grass, football players prepping in the distance, their zealous partners egging them on with excited smiles, shouting encouragements from the other end of the court.  You imagine lying down on the grass, spreading your arms out and not having a care about anything.

"You still wear that bracelet." 

"What?" You yawn, brows furrowed in confusion. You look at him from the corner of your eyes,  finding that his brown orbs motion to the source of comment, they dart from your cheek to your wrist, where surely the platinum accessory is tied to its loosest hoop, it used to be your go-to add-on in school. 

Surprised, you touch the item briefly, before retracting your hand slowly. All you can think is he remembers, he really remembers,  "...Yeah."

...

Instead of running about playgrounds with a mouthful of kiddish laughter and building cartoonishly  architectured sandcastles, you remember spending most of your childhood with your nose dug deep inside a fairytale, splurging much time on committing the glide of milky pages to memory, eyes widening, face twisting with each vicissitudes of emotions that would come over you with each stage of exploring a story. It was your own little world, a catharsis for all that you were holding inside, a window you could crack open and when the real world felt stuffy. 

Fancying Jisung was, your younger self imagined, fantastical, like something out of those fairytales.

You don't know when you started liking him, maybe it was the first time you saw him. It was your last year in school and Jisung's unfamiliar face was a new sight against the fuzzy background of sleepy students pouring into the hallway, it was the kind that demanded to be noticed, even though he simply  looked bored with an enormous pair of headphones looped around his thin neck.

Jisung was born to go through life being the embodiment of an all rounder, now that you think about it, there's not a thing he wasn't good at, always  having a proclivity to outshine others.

 He was a transfer student with stellar grades in spite of mostly routing his interest  towards composing  obscure music you'd found floating about the net. In all honesty, he truly was the master of all trades and the jack of none and every room was a keeper of attention, enveloped in an intangible but unanimous, wordless veil of interest towards the new character.

But  maybe it wasn't as theatrical as you remembered; maybe it was the love at  first sight nonsense, maybe it wasn't something you realised overnight, out of the blue, maybe it all happened at a slow, infuriating pace, maybe you started liking him for the small, stupid and unimportant things, like when you dropped your pen, the thin stick rolling away between your desks and he picked it up, flicking it between his fingers curiously, carefully curling his fingers around the metal, observing it before putting it back on your desk, maybe it was in class, when he zoned out in class, not bothering to look apart until he realised it had caught your attention, he then blinked away, the rosy hue of his cheeks more prominent with each passing second,  maybe it was when you were sure you were about to flunk the history pop quiz and Jisung whispered the names of warriors and poets and the fallen while keeping his gaze firmly poised on his paper.

You were so shy, cloistered, intensely egregious and he kept seeking you out in some new manner, causing you to be an element of mild interest not only amongst your peers but also people who actively seeked his romantic interest.  Although, conversations  on your part never stretched beyond differentiation and stealing cautious glances at one another, (which wasn't a shocker because you didn't know how to compute a chat with him and Jisung was unusually timid for someone who acquainted himself with well known rambunctious personalities), you genuinely enjoyed his company.

So you obliged. Even though it was utterly improper and you were sure he liked someone on the cheer squad. It was just that you were a kid and you wanted to wear your heart on your sleeve just once before tucking it away forever.

He poked his head out from the water, wordlessly upon hearing his name, looking at you with a cocked brow and you were quick to say it, like you had to before you ended up changing your mind, it took a lot of courage to mutter a simple confession after all,  in spite of the fact you didn't at all picture him reciprocating, whisking you off of your feet with a wide grin, in a grand affirmation of all the rubbish pop culture has spoon fed you. 

It was a stereotypical teeth rotting, sweet crush that bound you to want to be around Jisung in a way he didn't, something lodged deep inside of you, the same thing that was childish and clung onto its fairy tales for dear life, hoped that he would share the same feelings, in spite of knowing it was undoubtedly unrequited. 

 Jisung had an indecipherable look on his face, he parted his mouth to say something but paused as if looking for the right words.  He simply settled with a sigh, before lowering his body down into the pool. You replayed the scene over and over again for the rest of senior year, until it drove you to a point of absolute insanity. You even considered googling what a sigh was supposed to convey, if fishing through dictionaries wasn't going to tell.

That was notably the last time you spoke in school.

But your strained relationship stayed with you like an embarrassing tattoo  and in trying desperately to  conceal it, afraid someone would see too much, know too much, you would only make it more apparent. 

You had to push him away to the farthest corner of your mind so you didn't have to wonder anymore, didn't have to interpret every action like your life depended on it - because love to you was so immense that it was overwhelming. You've wanted love to rescue you in some way, looked for it in the soft murmur of pages, in the chilling words to a song you can't seem to forget, you've waited for love like an impatient eagle anticipating its opportunity  to leap in and swoop up its shot at satisfying its undying hunger. You needed to uproot those budding feelings before they took abode inside your chest, grew stronger, into something massive, unignorable, something like love.

Avoiding Jisung in hallways, in class and really everywhere was some form of a habit you were developing - but that didn't stop him  from entangling himself with your ponderings; you thought of all the things he did without paying much attention to the act, like his petulant whining when he wanted something he wasn't getting, you thought of the way he tapped his pen against the wooden desk, silently eyeing chalky math problems on the board before uttering the answer with an ease only he could carry, you thought of his petulant front during arguments and how he always ended up winning, you just missed being around him without the added tension - which was funny because you're the one to blame for it. 

To your knowledge, Jisung didn't know to speak in puzzles, even when he didn't want to say something, he always found an agreeable way to deliver it,  often unknowingly wording them as they were, he didn't understand the complexities with which people conversed, needing everything to be black and white, as clear as the summer sky, so everyday felt like he owed you an example of his unintentional transparency, a explanation even though you knew he didn't.  

Maybe that's it, you thought, maybe that's all. 

(Sometimes you would sense his gaze searing into the side of your face, as if he was on the verge of uttering a greeting.

But graduation came along. And you never heard anything from him.)

You began to understand that all those tear jerking, unhappy endings were inevitable, like not being able to take your eyes off the stage during  Giacomo Puccini's Sono Andati, like being exposed to Mimi's excruciating death, losing something you can't put a finger on - and suddenly, the plays, the window, the catharsis wasn't enough, the child in you wanted to scream and  kick and throw, the child in you wanted to forge her own ending, the one that made sense, the one you could anticipate.

Running his palms along the cool glass, Jisung pauses from time to time to look at you, as if expecting you to address the elephant in the room, the same elephant that followed you all the way from campus, to his car, to the café downtown. It wasn't until the waiter went away in the pursuit of getting your order did he pose the inquiry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

You shake your head slowly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

 "What's there to talk about? It was a long time ago and I'm over it."

 Saying it out loud like this feels weird, it feels so real and disappointing and embarrassing, you feel reduced to a child coming clean about that one time they tipped over a vase and dusted the debris under the rug he is about to step about on, hoping he wouldn't notice. 

The statement makes you feel guilty, like you're lying. You don't want to know if you really are.

"Well, does that mean we can be friends?" Mutters Jisung against the opening of his straw, sipping miserly as though not wanting to finish the rest of his Americano. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, looking blatantly confused, like that was the only explanation he had for your fallout. "I don't understand." 

Not having thought that far, you stop typing, the click clack of keys muting, Jisung's thick rimmed glasses rest atop the jut of his nose and he's peering over them to look right at you with big wide eyes, genuinely interested in being supplied an answer.  The sixteen year old you would be overwhelmed with bouts of fluster right now. But you stopped being that person a long time ago, in fact, that person is to you a bleary recollection of a mere stranger who you thought you saw somewhere but couldn't put a finger on the location.

Shrugging, unsure, the question comes after a lengthy pause, "I guess it does?"

You sit in temporary silence after the short conversation ends, never going off topic again and giving into irrelevant chats even though Jisung is actively trying to initiate conversation about things which had nothing to do with work. You wonder why, wordlessly admitting that it was getting harder to resist the urge to talk to him with every passing second.

His car was parked a few lanes away from the café so you were obliged to walk after getting through the first portion of the assignment.

"So." Jisung starts, biting the side of his cheek, "What have you been upto lately?"

Talking to Jisung isn't as difficult as your younger self made it to be, he could hold a conversation well, jumping from serious topics to lighter ones to keep the balance, making witty comments here and there that had you laughing without really meaning to and every time, you'd catch a look of satisfaction glinting in his eyes. 

 The pair of you walk by an ice-cream parlour where a short bald man with a perpetually happy  face is handing out samples. A mint green board is attached to the appendage of a stall, outstretching from the original store, it says La Petite Glacière. 

You raise your brows, literal nomenclature.

"Journalism could suit you." The comment is off-handed, a product of you thinking out loud, imagining Jisung running around with a recorder, with his big, friendly eyes, queries posed with an an easy jovial attitude; it's so befitting, you just couldn't help but notify him. Even if it was an involuntary notification. You left out the part where you always pegged his love for composing would eventually materialise instead, this was unexpected to say the least. But Jisung described music as a getaway, something he was willing to do out of passion and not duty.

It was to his credit that he didn't laugh in your face when you said you wanted to be a playwright, specialising solely in the field of fiction. That's one thing he doesn't have in common with your parents. (Who didn't hesitate to point out that it was an obsolete branch of writing.)

"Yeah?" Jisung grins archly, glancing at you, as insinuating the memory of you playing Iago when you were expecting to land Desdemona is still impressed on him. "I could say the same for you."

You only wave him off, rolling your eyes. Some things are better left forgotten.

It's hot and you're really thirsty. You're knee deep in lengthy conversations engineered to catch up with one another, which consisted of ping-ponging inquiries about everything and anything, like how it was moving away from your family and new hobbies and pet peeves and casual strolls down memory lane but then the tension would settle and you would grow awfully quiet, like you're doing something you aren't supposed to, like you're walking into the inviting mouth a ginormous tiger whilst convincing yourself that it won't gobble you up.

"Okay. I have one." you start, he's nodding in encouragement,  "Have you been dating a lot?" 

Jisung laughs at your obvious curiosity, wiping his sweaty forehead with a spare napkin, strolling really fast, long legs promoting his speedy gait, you have to jog from time to time to keep up.

"Why?" 

He tilts his head to you, the teasing spark in his eyes glinting knowingly, he becomes shorter and grows taller walking up and down the slopes of the bumpy road.

  Your eyes widen. You were curious! You haven't spoken to him for a long time and you're just catching up. Exactly, you tell yourself,  that's believable, that, you think, makes sense. The other explanation, the one you're deigning to not look in the eye, that a part of you would be disappointed if he had said yes doesn't.

You flounder for a response, something, just a word or even an awkward noise, anything to formulate a proper retort. When that proves to be delayed and difficult, heat begins to pool into your cheeks, shooting up to the back of your ears and budding under the skin of your neck.

"Just asking."

 He hums, ghosting his fingers along the small of your back, careful not to touch you as he shoulders his way to your side without bumping you off of your feet, the gesture prompts something inside your gut to twist and twist and twist. "Well...yeah, but it's never been serious."

You're waiting for the red light so you can cross the road to the parking area. Jisung is towering over a sea of the heads, he's not much taller than the average person, hands tucked in his pockets. The wind is messing his hair up to the side, he keeps running his fingers through the stubborn strand to get it to sit right but when the endeavour proves to be futile so he just scoffs, as if berating the strand whilst stubbornly repeating the action. 

Looking at him like this, you imagine falling in love with Jisung is easy. Like gliding a hot knife through butter. It must feel just right, even if it doesn't last long, like holding fire in between your palms and pretending you own it, feeling the warmth kissing your skin before it nips and burns, like speeding across comets, stars and the moon, waging wars in the name of romance and producing litanies about love and then - finally, inevitably, unwillingly - letting go, like you always knew you would.

 You imagine the aged memories of blurry faces behind cobwebs of raindrops and curtains of mist, the faces of people who he could've loved but hadn't.

And it scares you for some unknown reason.

There's something inexplicably lovable about Jisung, his babyish features have always possessed the tendency to catch you off guard, even though you've known him for a long time; it's gobsmacking and too winning to be real, like something out of a dream, the milky planes of an acrylic face. The smooth buttery texture of his skin, the subtle, narrow jut of his nose, the pouted shape of his mouth and pearly teeth. You think he doesn't know this, doesn't see himself the way you do even when he pretends to be confident with his boastful jokes, they are just jokes after all. Only further evidence of how he doesn't want to believe any compliment rendered his way.

"What about you?" He poses, looking over from the hood of his car while unlocking it from the driver side, "Dating anyone?" 

The truth is, you've tried the atrocities of blind dating and online dating and casual dating but they all have been deficient and you're too tired to go through the never ending cycle  of being on disappointing dates again: your expectations are too high, some might even say, for the way you seek familiarity with absolute strangers; you're stubborn, awkward and sometimes, simply unapproachable,  but for the sake of not deflating your ego, you decide that Jisung doesn't need to know this. 

You shake your head, failing to understand why Jisung is grinning through the cracked window, whilst you're pulling the door open and plopping down on the passenger seat.

"Why are you smiling?" You furrow your brows, watching as the lopsided grin grows bigger. 

"Because." He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.  

"Because?" You look at him expectantly, but he just looks back at you without expanding the brief explanation. You're so close that you can make out the thin layer of mist collecting on his eyelashes, his arched cupid's bow, his eyes have so much brown in them. You'd liken the colour to that of a muddy lake, like the bare earth, they catch sunlight and turn golden, just for a second, for just one second, it looks like what magic must be like. Realising that you have been staring at him for quite long, you tear your abashed gaze away. Piloting it to shift from the buskers to the other cars, buses, pedestrians, traffic lights, looking for a sight distracting enough.

"I'm not telling you!" Jisung mocks your tone like a child with a violent shake of his head, putting his keys in ignition. The engine roars to life, wheezing like a kettle. Why he drives a Comet Convertible when he could've gotten any other alternative is a wonder; not that you mind, you like it, it’s  like sitting  inside a giant jewelry box, the inside is smooth red leather, velvety smooth black paint on the outside.

"Why not?" You frown.

Jisung rolls the steering wheel with one hand, keeping his eyes trained to the approaching traffic while turning lanes, he giggles, "Because."

...

You'll have to admit that it's quite... challenging coming to terms with being friends with Jisung. Not because he's practically everywhere but  just since Jisung tends to demand your attention when he realises he's not getting it.

When you try to dodge him on mornings after he cheats at UNO, scurrying away behind swathes of sleep deprived university students, hoping you don't catch his eye, he calls your name in that  loud, clear and intentional way that he does, dragging a heavy arm around your shoulder to squeeze it against the back of your neck before tousling your hair or some other action to effectively ruin your get up. When you zone out in class, musing absently about something that has nothing to do with scale efficiency and accidentally catch his gaze, he winks at you, snapping you right back into attention. 

Your friendship is, to say the least, interesting, for everyone around you.  It's like everyone is always on the edge of their seats, waiting for a chance to poke fun at your apparent chemistry. It means nothing, you're just friends, you remind yourself over and over again, defensively, succumbing to the urge to grow closer and closer to him without paying mind to the annoying voice in your head.

Jisung texts you in the middle of the night, when he's parked out front, to meet him for a midnight drive out that you're sure no one knows about and you tell yourself you're getting away with it - only to be confronted by a smirking Sunwoo in the morning, likening the situation to a teenager  caught red handed sneaking in through the window after a clandestine night of partying.

 But you're not spared the teasing even out in the open. Though while you squirm awkwardly, sink into your seat and refute offendedly, Jisung doesn't have a lick of such knowledge or care, he easily slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder in class and dozing off, indifferent to the multiple pairs of eyes zeroing in on you.

Even though the bartenders smile their coquettish smiles, offering drinks on the house and people laughed a little more than necessary, twirling their hair around their fingers at anything and everything he said, thence offering proper chances to ditch you completely, he remains close to you at pubs, putting his long fingers on your shoulders and resting his chin on your head, shooting some creepy guy who just wouldn't stop insisting on buying you a drink a look that said he wouldn't mind taking a stronger stance, had the creep not backed off. It was what anyone would have done, you tell yourself, ignoring the underlying pang of a gut feeling that begged to differ.

You envy the obvious charm Jisung holds over everyone, easing his way out of the jokes to do whatever he wants, you wonder what he would do if someone asked him if you were just friends, if he would dismiss them with a wave or provide a positive response, if it would hurt, if it would matter.

"Hey!" 

You jump at the tone. It's breezy, light and followed by a scoff at the end, you recognise it, sighing once the initial surprise oozes out of you to be replaced with familiarity, Renjun is halfway through a complaint about acrylic paint, his mouth half open while his eyes travel over your head, where you're certain the owner of the voice is jogging up to the pair of you. 

"I'll er...catch you later." Renjun purses his lips, while you turn your gaze back to Jisung, he's coming from practice, so his hair is wet, cheeks flushed red, he looks younger like this, completely barefaced. He's wearing a  plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, even in such an ordinary attire, a few bypassers' attention latch solely onto him.

The sun has long laid on a cotton soft sheet of clouds, letting a blue evening straighten its back against the dark firmament, the crowd at campus is reducing dramatically, you were walking to the metro, deciding to rest by the park bench as he mimics the pose, sliding from the opposite end when you try to keep a distance.

Jisung nudges you with his shoulder. "We’re having a party at our new place. You should come."

It wasn't willingness that took you to loud premises. You aren't exactly a party animal, far from it, maybe an animal that blends into the background, wordlessly observing  masses of sweaty people who will wake up with horrible hangovers the next morning, wishing the night before had never happened. If such an animal exists. 

 But you're genuinely curious about meeting Minho, who seems to have assumed the position of  one of Jisung's best friends while you were absent from his life. You found yourself wondering if he was different from Bang Chan, who in spite of being the former's friend, is someone you could deem yourself more similar to than he is to Jisung; shaking your heads and groaning into your palms, Chan would pinch the bridge of his nose and cautiously glance at you as though to convey You get me, right? while Jisung showered the karaoke bar manager with grandiloquent blandishments into giving extra minutes for a lower price.

Despite this, it is the undeniable but sheer adoration for your fun-loving mutual friend that binds you two together the best, the shared looks of appreciation when Jisung  scolds you for neglecting your health, when he surprisingly remembers a minor detail about you or when he indulges in appreciative chats about crayon drawings with loquacious kids who would come running to display their paintings when you were looking to take an indolent walk in the local park, he would listen attentively, moving to a sitting position, nodding his head like he understood what the kiddish gibberish meant; one thing is certain -  there was certainly more to Jisung than people pegged and if anything, those undiscovered traits only made him more endearing.

"Okay….but make sure we don't end up playing strip poker or something." You shudder at that thought, grimacing exaggeratedly to make your point.

"Why?" He raises his brows, a small simper playing on his lips to give away that he was only teasing you, "I like that game."

But under all that banter, it was well received that Jisung would never put you to the obligation of doing anything you're not comfortable with, so you just play along, narrowing your eyes, "That's because you're a pervert." You say, stifling a laugh whilst his grin dissolves to drop to a blank face.

 Jisung glares at you, nudging you with his knee, effectively putting you on the verge of falling.

"Hey!"  You scoff, repeating the action but Jisung doesn't roll across the grass like you wanted, he doesn't even budge. Instead, he laughs at your frustration, shaking his head and glancing back at you with an entertained look in his eyes. 

(Something inside your chest is growing, like an epiphany, its vines pushing up against your lungs, your heart, its thornes prickling, injuring the flesh, something that tells you this is so much more to you than you'd admit, you press it down, ignore it; just a little longer, you think, just a little longer before you start to see this for what it is. )

"Why are you staring at me?" Jisung questions, you can't help but notice how he tilts his head, moving his curious face closer to yours, inspecting, like just before he makes his final move and mutters Checkmate but he doesn't actually know what he's doing, doesn't realise the weight of his actions.  "Do I have something on my face?" He tilts his cheek to you, as though offering you to examine it and then, immediately his mouth lowers down to form a deep set frown. Is he really that goddamned clueless? Doesn't this affect him at all? 

"No." You clear your throat and lean back, moving your weight on your palms,  "It's getting late. We should get going." 

...

The earliest memory you have is from when you were five, your parents had taken you to the beach and that day, while the sun shone brightly and the sand was warm, like home under your feet, with big curious eyes, you gazed off into the brilliant blue water. 

It was just so beautiful. 

And you so badly, wanted to wade into the welcoming foamy arms of the sea. If only the immensity of the water hadn't scared you as much as it did, you thought. It was like a blue giant that was reaching to steal the sun off of the sky and if you  dared to test the waters, the liquid Goliath could whisk you right off of your tiny feet and drag you into its mouth.

 That, you think, is what you're really afraid of, that deep down inside , you never really stopped holding back. That you'll never muster up the courage to do anything you really want.

In the midst of the chaos of an alcohol induced party, your head feels like it's about to explode.

It stopped raining. And you haven't had the luxury of running into Jisung ever since he went off to get a drink for himself.

The windows are open. Though there's not a flutter of a cool breeze or anything. But there are assortments of crisps, juices and other suspicious looking snacks. The cool curve of the stair railing pressing up against your side. It's unspeakably loud. The frat house, as typical as it sounds, welcomes an obnoxiously large crowd, it isn't surprising, considering people here have a reputation for social adeptness, the house being big enough to capacitate a crowd twice as big as its guests is just a plus point.

 Once the majority of the crowd  had  long thinned out to participate in a curious sounding game of  beer pong, the aftermath is that everything smells like sweat, vomit or both. You're tipsy, tired and alone. It's been an hour since you arrived. Your patience is wearing thin. 

 You down the remainder of the watered down scotch, even though the liquid could secure a horrible case of nausea if you couldn't hold your liquor well tonight.

In the mess of too many heads, too many hands and too many bodies, pushing, pulling, dancing and kissing  with shocking hostility, suddenly, the view starts to shift, from left to right, from upwards and downwards, like you're on a rollercoaster but without the lap bar. It's certainly a symptom of  the  splitting migraine you're sporting. It's too loud downstairs for you to summon anyone and besides, the search for a familiar face seems futile.  

You fish out your phone, wondering if you should send Jisung a text, squinting at the glaring blue screen but decide against it - hoping to God that you don't walk in on anyone shagging while looking for one of the rooms to crash in. 

Now, that...would put them in an awkward position. You mentally high five yourself for the joke. 

Though the amusement is  mostly transient, soon replaced by a rapid jerk of pain. Wincing in an attempt to stand with little control over balance, you try to ease the pain from your briefly twisted foot. 

When you've made it to your desired destination, an inconspicuous looking room at the end of the long hall, you kick off the death traps for heels off of your feet and all but fling yourself on the mattress.

Stacks of comics are carefully  placed on the top most shelf of the bookshelf pushed against the wall, their polished spines sticking out.

 The rest are overflowing with vinyls, set in alphabetical order. You can tell because each row has a tag taped over its head.

Everything is surprisingly clean, the walls are crisp white, there's a single black wall on which a large painting sits. A night light glows dimly, perched up on the bedside table. Whoever's bedroom this is, has the blandest taste in interior design. Or a lack of it since they moved in not long ago as Jisung informed.

 You stare owlishly at the blue ceiling, following the undulating spines of bricks, stacked in. Upwards and downwards. Like a map. Like a  staircase to nowhere. Then you close your eyes. 

Imagining that you're staring up at the sky at dawn, when it's  a swirl of milk tea. Golden. Buttery white. Autumnal Yellow. And pumpkin spice. Brown curls against the background of a milky white firmament and if one bothered to look closer, they'd catch stars peeking from behind slowly darkening clouds, waiting to come out. 

When you were a child, you liked to stick a curious index into filled tea cups, as if to study the khaki liquid , not quite grasping the connoisseurship of hot beverages just yet. The experience would always end with a mouthful of biscuits and your grandmum's tickles engendering your stomach to ache a good kind of ache.

Now, the memory prompts you to raise a finger to the air, as if you were dipping your digits into the whirlpool of maroon. For a moment, you feel as if you're still that little girl stuck in someone else's body, like you hadn't grown up at all. 

But in the hurtful manner that reality often made itself known, yanking you right back from your dreams, the door creaks noisily and then closes.

Out of the corner of your eye, the character looks more like a funny sketch on a chalkboard than he does a person. All blurry and messy. Like someone tried to rub him out. 

The flash of light radiating from his phone, a sliver of neon, silver, you recognise his face, you've seen the same expression right before he's about to choose between  his favourite ice cream flavour; eyebrows knitted in concentration, lips pursed, emerging from the shadows.  He's typing really fast. You blink, adjusting your vision. The unobstructed sight of his face broadens. "Jisung?" 

 He looks at you, positioning his phone towards your face to get a good in the barely there light. 

"Yeah?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, "What are you doing here?" 

"That's a good question."  He snorts.  "Indeed, what business might I have in my room?"

You jump, sitting straighter, then stand up. Just in case he thinks you're a fucking creep. He probably doesn't even want to be friends with you anymore and you understand, you wouldn't want to be friends with you either. "I...I didn't know."

Jisung laughs loudly at your fluster, rolling his eyes,  he plops down, the mattress dipping under his weight, groaning noisily. He pats the spot beside him. "Relax..."

You wear a doubtful look, under the impression that he'd break into a laughing fit with a quip about you caving in so easily.  You narrow your eyes even though you're quite tempted to take his offer. 

He tuts, yanking you by the arm so you sink down beside him.  

"I just saw you coming upstairs, wanted to make sure some asshole wasn't picking on you." He explains, his face contorting to momentary peevishness just at the fleeting thought. 

A crappy pop song is buzzing in the background, you can hear it, you can smell the salted popcorn in the air. His fringe is brushed forward, cheeks smoothed over, moisturised, in this intimidating proximity, you pick up that Jisung always smells really good. Like aftershave and something strong, woody, earthy — but just the right amount, not overpowering.

 "Have you considered trying something more...erm... colourful?" You  scan his room, deciding to change the subject, attempting to dodge the heavy feeling of fluster in your chest; you guess it was showing on your face because the corners of Jisung's mouth begin to quirk upwards. If there’s anyone more awkward than Jisung, it /s definitely you. "This isn't really you."

 With his mouth lopsided, his nose scrunching upwards, his teeth showing, his eyes turning to crescents, Jisung chuckles, as if perceiving your attempt to digress but choosing to let it slide.

 "Then what is?" He raises a brow.

"I don't know." You pause, trying to picture a suitable tint, "Something bright."

Someone starts blasting Ed Sheeran outside, putting the volume all the way. It creates a proper distraction from the conversation to go beyond simple suggestions, it was a sudden reminder of just how badly you wanted the party to be over.

 "You know the more I think about it, the more I come to acknowledge that this is really not my scene."  You confess absentmindedly, backing up on the mattress so your feet dangle, your headache kicks back, beating inside  your ears, knocking against your skull. You lie back on the mattress, curiously blinking up at Jisung's frowning face.

 "Why didn't you tell me that before?" He says, a pinch in his brows pushing the shape up in utter concern. 

"Because I wanted to come." You say honestly, prompting Jisung to heave a deep sigh, relief gradually washing over his rigid features, "I don't know, maybe I'm just not fun enough."

"Yeah. That's probably it." He jokes, grinning from ear to ear. But the shape drops immediately when you jut your lip out instead of mirroring the mirthful action. "You really think so?"

 He blinks at you, not expecting the forwardness, "No." He says, and you note that this is the most serious Jisung has ever sounded around you.

Your face is growing increasingly hot as the weight of his remark started to kick in. It’s so unfair, isn't it? He has no idea how every little thing he said to you meant so much more than it ought. It hurt when you found yourself automatically deducing his trivial actions, all the while knowing it hadn't meant anything to him.  To him, you're just a friend. And you aren't going to let your emotions ruin that, not again. 

 "What's the party for anyway?"

You furrow your eyebrows in genuine curiosity when the silence has become unbearable. Constantly needing to be disrupted. 

 "It's a stupid frat house tradition, they do it every time we move."

“Sounds like a cult activity to me."

You hear him hum, as if feigning contemplation, then open your eyes.

 "Well, that...That's because it is."

It's very typical of Jisung to try to make jokes whilst trying to keep a straight face. In most cases, he doesn't fool anyone. His voice rises  to a cartoonish volume, his mouth pouted out when he speaks as though to hold back a laugh, it’s his eyes, widened, twinkling with a notorious spark in them that ultimately gave it away. In rare instances, however, they deluded strangers into thinking he was being serious when he really wasn't; like that time he told Chan the pool was pre-heated just for the latter, who trustingly dove into the water, to swim up with clattering teeth and ice cold skin to the surface finding that Jisung was grinning deviously. It was an obvious payback for the time the older male hogged Jisung's share of cheesecake as a daring attempt at pranking.

Maybe, you guess, you just knew him too well.

  "Interesting." you raise your brows, playing along, "I'm surprised there isn't any nude dancing involved."

 "Wow...you sound so disappointed.” 

 Jisung laughs, his chest heaving upwards and downwards with every laboured breath.  It's a pleasant sight, knowing you get to have this moment to yourself. For reasons you'd like to ignore, something inside your chest begins to ache, thrumming against your ribs. It isn't until you put your hands over your face in an attempt to get rid of a thin layer of sweat, do you realise that you were smiling.

When he calms down, he keeps looking at you. "I take that you made the submission?" He presses, knowing well that you were intending to put off the matter from the dodgy look in your eyes. "Right?"

 Before, Jisung stubbornly pressed on the matter, it was unheard of for you to allow your writings to be read by anyone other than yourself; it was only fiction, your little secret, you reason, even though you knew the underlying cause of your unwillingness was that you simply cannot take rejection well, it is truly terrifying but an automatic reaction to think that your work is boring and somehow unworthy of praise every time  you are on the verge of sharing it. Your parents never showed any particular interest in it and you assumed that was a universal desire. 

But Jisung is incredibly obdurate when he wants to be.

 Sometimes, you think he's the only person in your life who's truly honest with you, he doesn't shower you in false accolades, not hesitating to rip the band-aid, to point out the less likable bits from the likable ones even if he knew it would make you unhappy. It was interesting prying your wounds open around him, he wouldn't suppress his thoughts and blurt euphemisms like it's going to be okay, he would grimace and gag and then he'd clean them, he would sit patiently with them and try to dress them up for better - and somewhere along the way, while you may have cared about other people's opinions, your concern for what he thinks of you is starting to become far more significant. And it petrifies you.  "No." 

Jisung shoots you a look of annoyance, staring at you like he's awaiting an explanation. You can sense the lengthy talk coming from the back of his throat, something which surpassed the regular limits of you should do this and you shouldn't do this, he relentlessly pushed you towards your career which you claimed you were passionate about but needed his stern berating often when you would stagger back in indolence and you'd be lying if you said it isn't effective - albeit, the scoldings sometimes led to the two of you bickering back and forth, giving each other the silent treatment until one of you would cave - whatever it was, you know you could never turn down Jisung, even if he was bruising your ego to ask you to get your shit together.  "Why not?"

 "It's just a stupid draft, Sungie..." You laugh nervously but he doesn't give into the fit like you imagined, instead, he just dons a solemn look on his face, something that seems to show that he'd been peeved by your response.

  "No it’s not." He shakes his head slowly and there's sort of a firmness in his retort that surprises you, far from how he usually jokes on about,  that tells you there's no room for argument, "It's not stupid at all."

Jisung tears his gaze away, his expression softening once he notes the worried look on your face, it's as though he had suddenly changed his mind about the lecture he was surely planning  to give you,

 "Look I don’t want to fight.” He sighs, “You’re always talking about how much this means to you and if it’s something that you really want, don't put it off. I'm your friend, I can only encourage you — but at the end of the day, it's your job to pull yourself up. Goes without saying that it’ll be a complete waste if you don’t pursue play writing because you - and I don't care if you don't agree with me -  really do have a lot of potential.”

You blink in wonder, ”You think so?"

 "I know so."

 You don't remember the last time someone said something like that to you, if at all. Tearing your gaze away from him, you’re met with the inability to shake the feeling of craving something you don't want to understand, mired in your own musings and for no particular reason but to avoid the desperation of confessing to yourself of the warm tight feeling inside your belly - you give into the temptation of placing your palm over the nightlight, watching the light turn from bright yellow to muted blue, it stings slightly. 

Too cheesy, you would groan out under any other circumstance where you hadn’t been so fazed.

Instead, you just gulp, eyes wide at his forward comment, his praise is the equivalent of being splashed with ice cold water when one is half asleep, now you're all wide eyed and incognisant of what's real and what isn't, it prompts a jolting sensation to traverse all throughout your body, "Thanks." 

This scene was no exception, Jisung tips his head back against his palms when he's thinking about something, while keeping his calm gaze posed on you, he smiles, rolling his eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself, loosen up just a little. I'm not always gonna be around.”

You muse that your mum said the exact same thing when you moved away for university but chose not to mention it, it's not true though, you want to say. Because Jisung is always there for you.

 See, the universe exists on this dreadful thread of balance  and you've been hanging on by your last finger for as long as you remember, taking every step on the basis of a fear of tumbling off to be greeted by the gasps and complaints of an imaginary audience, for the longest time, picturing  your play to be dissected like a lab rat, for a delirious critic to point their scalpel and announce, the misshapen heart is here, that's the pudgy head.

But nowadays and you'll never tell him this, when Jisung talks about you  like that, you almost believe it, believe in yourself and don't think he understands what it means to you, how grand that is  -  to imagine seeing your play come to life, something severely intimidating about watching it, spotlight gingerly kissing up the actors' newborn faces as the audience spews quiet comments, critics' expressions morphing with  nuanced understanding, the anticipation is tangible, the walls closing in by the second, tension squeezing the air out of their lungs -  until the curtains part and a story draws them into another world. Then everything falls into a formidable silence.The inexplicable feeling of being one wrapping its limbs around everyone and cradling them to its chest like a loving mother, awestruck strangers listening in on the heart wrenching dialogues, the belter of a riveting tragedy prompting their hearts to lurch forward and sit on their tongues, then they'll look around, spot bits of you in your characters and think I'm not alone. I never was.   (The people you've both never known but known your entire life.)

It's better to slip, to put everything on the line for the sake of making way to what you want on a feeling rooted deep inside your gut than to cower behind the fear of disapproval and have nothing at all. Being brave enough to tell your story is not the absence of that fear which keeps you, but it is telling the tale despite, toppling that fear.

There's something relieving about that theory.

 "I want to lie down..." You mewl, in spite of already lying down. It's a sign of how the constant toiling through exams was finally taking a toll on you, the sleepiness coupled with hours long lethargy from the party seemed to be weighing your body down, making your eyelids heavier by the second. He moves your hand, leaning into the light. A wash of colour is spreading  across his face for a brief moment, exposing the skin to scrutiny, all veins, curves and crinkles around his eyes. Jisung smiles at you. Your eyes dart all over his face, resting on the curve of his mouth briefly, then his eyes, you catch the yellow flickering in them , the brown turning to dark copper. 

Your heart drops to your stomach when he blinks away slowly, the disappointment assuaged by something foreign, dumb and utterly clichéd stirs in the pit of your stomach as his thumb briefly swipes across your knuckles,  "You don't say, sleepy girl!" Jisung scoffs, bringing his arm under his head.  

Unconsciously, entertaining the thought of staying alone in his room, you find yourself feeling safer because of his presence instead, divorced from prying eyes, "Thanks for staying." You say, wanting to talk to him more and more,  contemplating fashions  to contribute to the conversation again and again just to cut the silence.

"Well, you had a lot to drink." 

He reminds, as if the reason for his staying is that obvious;  worry laced in his voice and you understood why -   even though you aren't completely doused in a state of inebriation, you kept swaying all the way upstairs.

"But you missed out on.." you drag the consonant unintentionally, "all the fun, though."

"Do I look like I care?" Jisung snorts, staring up at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands and dropping down against the bed, he laces his fingers together over his chest, digging into his pocket and fishing out his phone. It isn’t a question.

His wallpaper is of a kid gazing up from the water, he peers up at the camera, grinning ear to ear. This is definitely Jisung. Because even with his front teeth missing, his smile is all too familiar. His cheeks were chubbier back then, face rounder, softer around the edges. Subconsciously, you rose a finger to poke at his cheek, as if to examine it. Jisung shoots you a glare.

"You were cute."

You coo, leaning onto his shoulder, the closeness should not intimidate you, given the amount of time you spend like this. But it does anyway.

"What do you mean were?” Jisung scoffs, “Nu-uh, still am. I'm the resident cutie pie, if you will."  He sings, narrowing his eyes briefly, thereon chuckling at the look of sheer disgust on your face. 

You wrinkle your nose, "I can't believe you just said that..." 

The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable quietude, except for the times when either of you perk up to initiate conversation and Jisung gives you aspirin for the throbbing migraine. 

Your shoulders are touching. Jisung breathes. Slowly. Then fast. Then slow. And then he tucks an earphone into your ear, it was an unspoken ritual you two practised when you were alone, oft in a different venue, sitting languidly about campus, while you read and he winked through the glaring sun to get a distant view of the landscape.

Jisung yawns, the grapple on his speech loosening and loosening.

You remain quiet, closing your eyes again. Words feel liquid in your mouth, letters wobbling on your tongue until you feel like you've lost complete control over what you're thinking of saying.

You can see the scene unfolding inside your head, can feel the earth under your skin, can hear birds chirping, can feel the dusty orange, morning glow kissing your faces. As if you're the only two people there. "Coldplay, right?" 

"Uh-huh..." Jisung replies, he sounds unsurprised by your aligned tastes. You look at him and find that he's mirroring you. His long lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks, eyes clamped shut. 

"It's beautiful..." You murmur, dropping your head back against the mattress, you think Jisung hums in response but you can't be too sure. It's like you're slowly, slowly and slowly drifting far, far away. Letting slumber wrap its welcoming arms around you. 

For a second, you feel the weight on your shoulders lighten, you imagine that you're soaring, soaring, soaring, like you could look down and see the rivers and seas and lakes pulsing against the  Earth's body, as though they were a bundle of nerves belonging to a round, green vessel of a body, and somehow - then immediately, you're being pulled to your feet, at great speed, you're falling, falling, falling - so fast that you feel like there's a fire budding inside your lungs, budding under your fingertips, inside your heart. 

Then it begins.  This must be a dream, this must be a dream, this must be a dream. The soft murmur of scripted words. Parted curtains, an open window allowing you to stare in wonder, dusk stretching across the entirety of the landscape, blue, then pink. You think of the big sapphire sea, the warm sand and someone waiting for you before it.  You think, this is it. This is it. This is it. And run, run, run. Sprinting to the broadening view. You recognise the back of his head, the curve of his neck, tufts of raven hair fluttering about, his white cuffed shirt, his footsteps like a trail of breadcrumbs, feet dipped in frothy water, You call his name, surprised  but think I knew it, I knew it, I knew it all along. He looks back and smiles at you, offering you his hand. (You're not over him. You don't think you ever were. And this is what you want, you want it so bad, after all this time, are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back?)

Just for a moment, in the split of a second, just now,  just once, you aren't afraid. 

You jolt awake, the earphone straining against the sudden movement, "Hey." You whisper, looking up at him. His Adam's apple drops with a slow gulp, the rosy colour of his parted lips. The slope of his nose. You don't know when you  nuzzled your face into his chest, his long arm is draped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.  Your heart is beating noisily in your ears, on your tongue. 

To your surprise, Jisung hums in response, eyes still clamped shut. You're so close, just so close, he brushes his slender fingers against the back of your neck, the touch feather light, as though reminding you that he had heard you. Your breath hitches inaudibly.

"Let's..." You say, with your tongue starting to limp inside your mouth, "go to the beach sometime."

...

A shower is running, loud, water gushing down and thumping against the tiles, the sound echoing and growing thinner by the second. 

You sit up on the empty bed, the recollection of last night lodged deep inside your head like a butcher knife. 

The realisation that you aren't at home isn't startling as you momentarily grow distracted in examining the room, the photos, the turntable, the white paint, the portraits, a light adjusted above, bits and pieces of a person scattered around.

Jisung's t-shirt is discarded carelessly on his reading table, your eyes widen when you acknowledge the occupant in the shower to be him, leaping up with a haste, everything comes back to you  with a force equivalent of pulling the butcher knife out and slamming it right back into your skull.

"It's you!" You gasp, partially  because the cheerful exclamation sends pangs of pain to your head, having made all the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, only to find Minho whipping up pancake batter in a bowl. As opposed to his old Instagram photos, with the new complementing pink hair, his feline like features are even more staggering, eyes narrowed to amused slits, behind which beady black orbs stare you down in absolute curiosity.

"Right, we met last night." He reminds you, uttering your name quickly, finding that you already recognise him. He holds the spatula up, paused in surprise as if he really wasn't expecting to see you right now, the position only eases when you wave your hands dismissively and say it's not what you think.

  He smiles, there's a strange disappointed quality to the demand."Sit down, let's have breakfast."

It's awkward, Minho spares you a few interrogating stares while you silently dig at your meal, the sound of cutlery and ceramic sounding through the open kitchen. You wish Jisung would come down already if the floor beneath your feet isn't going to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this discomfiture.

"They're really good." You nod, shoveling more of the unevenly cut portions of the pancake into your mouth.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" 

You choke, coughing on the gigantic bite, patting your chest as you slowly as you begin to regain your composure. Minho's eyebrows are weaved upwards, hinting that he expected an answer despite offering you water. God, he cut right to the chase, you aren't used to people as blunt as that. When you don't say anything, he blinks at you, tilting his head to examine the evasive expression on your face.

"He talks about you a lot..." He notifies, as though it was an explanation for something.  Minho's arms are crossed over his chest, proudly before announcing, "I think I practically know everything about you."

Funny, you could say the exact same thing about him. Jisung likes to babble on about people he cares about, which albeit is a handful, you are just as special as any of them. And that reminder as a consequence of his constant prodding makes you a little angry. 

"Look, he doesn't like me if that's what you're trying to say." You blurt out, you don't want to get your hopes up.  It's weird saying something so grave to someone you only recently  came to know. Having already accepted your one sided feelings even though you struggle to try to suppress them and the hopeful part of you reasons that Jisung probably didn’t initiate a kiss because you weren’t exactly sober — but the real reason, and you know this, is that his withdrawal last night was just cherry on top of the  big fat I-don't-feel-the-same-way cake. 

You made the mistake of ruining your friendship because of a stupid confession in the past and you aren't going to make it again, not when you're closer than ever now.

"That's not what I asked."  Minho comments. He is pretty great at appearing intimidating. Or rather, he sees right through you. You can't tell. But he's practically cornered you with his witty questions whilst his perceptive eyes keep an intent watch on you.  Minho had a curious  quality to him when he looked at things, he seemed to notice everything.

You laugh nervously, rubbing your nape when his gaze is practically unblinking in anticipating a reaction. 

"How was your Gimpo trip?" You digress.

 Minho's ears perk up, his eyes blown to big, happy circles, he nods his head excitedly, properly distracted from pressing the previous topic further. 

The conversation fizzles away in a haze, Minho rambles on in a cheerful tone, his eyes glossed over in enthusiasm. He speaks  of his three cats and asks you to commit their names to memory with a dead serious face, moving onto ramble on about his childhood, an entanglement of being the only child who dreamed laboriously of pursuing a career in ballet and succeeded. You listen attentively, not breaking your focus even when he gets up to do the dishes. 

By the time Jisung lazily drapes a towel around his neck, all the while hopping down the stairs, you feel like you've overstayed, digging your feet into the heels from last night while Minho holds the door open for you. 

"Need a ride?" Jisung asks, standing on his toe to look at you from behind Minho. 

 You shake your head, suggesting that you were to take the subway instead, keeping your eyes fixated on your sore feet as a reminder that you're opting for the alternative not by choice but because you don't have the energy to render Sunwoo an explanation of where you'd spent the night at with his constant teasing, Tightening the strap around your leg, while balancing yourself with the free arm, Jisung's long fingers quickly grab onto the underside of your arm, letting you balance your weight whilst posing the question, "You’re coming tomorrow for the group study, right?" You ask.

 It was an uncharacteristic gesture, outright surprising, because of his renowned proficiency in that class, when Jisung suggested that he didn’t understand the volume of topics you were going over.

Jisung glances cautiously at his best friend, who has a stupid smirk on his face for some reason, like he knows something you don't, “Yeah, yeah...” He says, reaching out to pinch your cheek despite your complaint. 

“Are you an alligator?” he calls out, prompting you to shoot a confused look over your shoulder.  "What?"

It's just one of those things Jisung says instinctively, his eccentric humour getting the best of him in silences and you, well, you walked right into this one. 

 "You know...cause I'll see you later!" 

In your peripheral vision, you spot Minho pinching the bridge of his nose at the quip, muttering a quick Jesus Christ.

...

During the day, the portrait is much more confusing. 

It's carefully placed on the paper covered floor, the room smells like fresh paint and sweat. Jisung suggested that you go paint shopping in the  pursuit of looking for a suitable colour to liven up his walls and the end of the semester meant you had enough time to put the purchased product to use. 

There is a blob of red on Jisung's jaw and the colour gets smudged all the way to his cheekbone when he makes an unsuccessful attempt to itch the skin with the back of his palm. You don't tell him this. 

"I bought it from the local display." He breathes out exasperatedly, the paint roller is placed on the paper, "The artist said it was about an unlikely romance or something like that. Looked pretty dope to me too and—"

 "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigate the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. Or anything that bears semblance to it, you never did have a good eye for art,  "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

 "Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart. 

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love  meant to be understood. 

It was meant to be felt. 

...

"Why do you have that dumb look on your face?"

 Sunwoo speaks, chewing through his snack, his fringe is glued to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat. You aren't surprised. The humidity is skyrocketing. A cut in your salaries have made you compromise the use of your obsolete air conditioner. It's a terribly humid Sunday morning and you're getting ready for a trip to Minho's beach house.

It wasn't hard to convince you. Such was possible because Minho's offer was reiterated through a number of ways and people over the span of last week. Even from Sunwoo. 

He and the rest of the boys have started  to get along pretty well, so well that you often end up acting as an amused spectator, simply watching the boys cosying up to one another while you're effectively camouflaging in the background of utter silence. Your friends  teamed up to produce quips here and there, stopping to chuckle into their napkins, cheeks rubicund like ripe apples whenever you went out for dinner. It was becoming a regular occurrence, at this point. Not that you minded; you genuinely enjoy the time you spend together.

As a final move, Jisung reminded you of your slurred request of wanting to go to the beach, beating the purpose of you claiming you wanted to stay home doing nothing when really you were just looking to avoid encouraging how you felt for him. You constantly found yourself suppressing the desire to want more and the last few weeks had been the toughest because you had trouble ignoring how you felt although you were careful not to show it. Jisung was spending more time with you than usual since you were on summer break and were relieved of your studies for a short while. You couldn't forget that night at his place, the memory made your gut wrench in a desire you couldn't fulfill. 

But  while it was hard being around him, you just knew you couldn't help it.

The trip was, nonetheless, a reminder of how Jisung always gets what he wants, even if it is as easy as snagging his favourite items off of the super store shelf or something which demands  more patience to be possessed, something that needs to be drawn out with unwavering persistence.  

Come to think of it, you never really understood what it means to live like that. 

"What dumb look?" You ask, averting your gaze from your phone, twiddling your thumbs for a response to Jisung's text notifying that they were taking the lead on the journey by setting off earlier than you to set up the place.

 It won't take them as long as it will for you because it's a familiar premise for them. Your arm is starting to hurt from holding up your suitcase.

Sunwoo mimics a grin, stretching the corners of his lips awkwardly and flattening his lips like that of a frog, a string of dried milk sits on his chin to finish off the impression. He points to his face, "This one."

 "I don't know what you're talking about." You roll your eyes, "Hurry up. Jisung messaged me the location." 

Sunwoo nods, then pauses, then his eyes widen, a teasing grin making  its way on his face, insinuating that he finally understood why you packed chocolate cake last minute in spite of you not having a particular preference for the item. "Does he know you have a big puppy crush on him?"

Sunwoo makes up for your social ineptness, amongst other things, and there are times when you don't understand what you'd do without him, times when you're relieved he's your friend even though you're essentially opposites - now is, certainly, not one of those times, now you wish he wasn't so close to you  to have access to this information without telling. 

"Are you hearing yourself? I don't have a crush on him." You lie, glaring at him, when your flatmate ducks his head to display that he didn't quite agree, you groan, 

"I don't!"

…

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

Sunwoo pulls his sunglasses down to pretend to study you, his big brown eyes scrutinising you from head to toe.  The  strong stink of diesel is still emanating  in the air in spite of the image of the gas station being wiped out long ago in your peripheral vision. You kind of like it, it contributes to boosting the anticipation of what was to happen when you reach your destination .

"Oh absolutely..." Sunwoo says, driving in the direction of the beach house the GPS pilots him to, Lauv hums faintly from the dusty speakers, the familiar lyrics filling the air  whilst you unconsciously bobbed your head. The vague distraction allowed Sunwoo to buy time to gather his thoughts, 

 "You need to tell him how you feel before someone else does. You need to tell him how you feel, period."

“I'm not doing that again.” you warn him, he speeds down the highway, your beach hat threatening to fly about under the weight of your hands at the sudden gush of wind. "Need I remind you how it went last time?" 

"Last time was different." 

"How?" 

"You barely even spoke to each other!" He exclaims frustratedly, pointing out the obvious, "Now you're good friends and he seems to feel the same way considering he always puts up with you...like...voluntarily." Sunwoo mocks, looking at the corner of his eye to note that you're rolling your eyes in annoyance, "Maybe Jisung's out of his mind."

"I'm not that bad!" You defend, quieting down once again when the memory of your admission flashes before your eyes in vivid details - the years of distance and silence that stretched between you because of it was hard - if that were to repeat itself now, when you're more used to him that you were before, you don't think you could bear it.  Or maybe you could but you don't want to.

It's enough to just have Jisung around and not be yours than to lose him by admitting.

"I'm not putting us in that position again just because of how I feel. It's kinda selfish, don't you think?" Your statement has a touch of finality to it that shuts Sunwoo right up, he wordlessly pulls up in front of the huge beach house, another jeep and the Comet Convertible is parked; before which far off near the shore, you couldn't help but notice the two unfamiliar figures by the boys, one of them is wearing a bikini, standing incredibly close to Minho, who's setting up their small grill, the other (and it makes your stomach turn) is talking animatedly to Jisung, he nods and smiles in that way that makes you think you'll never quite stop loving him. Chan is holding up his phone to take a picture. 

 Sunwoo honks loudly,  pulling you out of your trance. You can hear the I told you so sitting on the tip of his tongue when he shoots you a look of pity. You don't like it. The way that makes you feel like a toddler who can't keep herself from sticking her fingers into electric sockets in spite of being precisely instructed not to. Now, you think, the ‘I told you’ so would've been much more agreeable to your pathetic but injured emotions.

Jisung snaps his head around fast, raising his lithe digits to the air, waving at you languidly.  The girl spectates the exchange in an engrossed fashion, slowly routing her inquiring  gaze to yours in thought. Not all that seemed black and white is black and white between you.

"Are you coming?" Jisung screams over the noise and distance, away from the spot you're completely frozen in.  

(A pang in your chest tightens. Tightens. Tightens.  And you don't want it to mean something. But it does. It does and it always will.)

...

Minho once learned to set up tepee fires in scout camp, with twigs, a small heap of leaves, wood shavings and loosely screwed newspaper in the centre. Now, he only prides his younger self for setting up the fire once in their backyard and decides roasting marshmallows on the grill demands less of the expertise that he's lost overtime.

"I've actually heard a lot about you before we met." Sunwoo garbles out, clearing his throat.

You've been ignoring Jisung ever since you arrived. Now the group is sat down on the sand, in a misshapen circle, the two girls, now you know their names and the root of their invitation - Junhee and Shoshanna are merely bypassers the boys met when they arrived this morning. They're on a weekend trip like you and their visiting resident is a few houses away from yours. You wanted to act on your peevishness  and groan out a loud What are they still doing here?  everytime Shoshanna took the seat beside Jisung or asked him to set her marshmallows but that would, amongst other things, make you look like a crazy jealous idiot who has no right to step into a situation of that sort, even though Jisung seemed hesitant, cautiously looking at you every now and then. 

Jisung's brows rise and fall, gaze darting between you and your flatmate, surprised, "Is that right?"

Sunwoo laughs, "Yeah."  He chews carefully, trying not to choke, as if the source of his knowledge doesn't need to be pointed out. 

"Only good things I hope."

Skeptical, Jisung glances at you with a cocked brow, in case you oppose but you avoid his gaze, glaring down at charred marshmallow on the tip of the stick and thinking of ways to strangle Sunwoo, who chuckles at the former's apparent doubt, furrowing his eyebrows in bemusement, "Only good things."

"You're on the varsity swim team, right?" 

 With a mouthful of food, Sunwoo poses the question, the grin only widens when Jisung replies with an equally enthusiastic nod. 

"Did you know that this one can't swim?" He points his marshmallow stick at you, keeping his eyes trained on Jisung's surprised face. "I tried to  provide assistance." Sunwoo insists, "But when someone is really bad around water, like screaming at the top of their lungs-I'm going to drown in a kid's pool- bad, it's quite a challenging task."

Minho produces an animalistic laugh at this, patting his thigh like he's rendered a vivid image of your embarrassing experience while Chan shoots you a concerned look, as if sensing an underlying tension in the air that the others can't. You don’t know which one you dislike more.

"I can hear you, you know!"  You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly having lost your appetite. 

Sunwoo widens his eyes, with a hand atop his chest, mocking you,  "Really?"

You open your mouth to continue bickering with him because it was the only way you could hold yourself back from jumping across the sand and grabbing him by his collar in case that should stop him from further embarrassing you, but Jisung  interjects, blinking inquisitively at you.

 Jisung pouts. "It isn't that bad, you'll see, we can go for a swim anytime. That's what's the pool for anyway."

"Sungie,  I could use a swim now. Can we go, please?"  Shoshanna piped up jutting her lip in a way that made her more attractive, she hooked her arm with Jisung, pulling him to her side and he simply blinked at her, surprised by the gesture. Only you called him that  —  when did she pick that up? Why doesn't Jisung seem to mind at all? Are you seriously seeing what you are definitely seeing?

 Without meaning to, you imagine them floating about in the water, while she curled her arms around his neck to keep balance and him leaning down to grin invitingly.  And it feels like you're losing something.

You feel yourself jumping up to your feet. The sudden movement gains the attention of all your friends except Sunwoo, who keens on sparing you the smug grin which insinuates that he sparked the entire conversation intentionally.  You hope the universe would miraculously  render you telepathic powers so he'd start to choke on the stupid marshmallow. 

"Uh...I mean...I gotta." You gulp, "I'm going to go grab a beer."

"Wait."

Jisung frees his arm to get to his feet, powdery sand dusted off of his sweats.

"I'll come with you."

You walk in silence, wrapping your arms around yourself. In your peripheral, you catch the sight of his pockets swelled around the area he stuck his fingers in, you don't think Jisung's ever been that quiet. It makes you feel guilty. You're acting out because you simply can't get a grip and it seems to have taken a toll on him. You want to punch yourself in the face.

 It's not like you desire to stand in the way of his merry-making, it had to happen eventually, right? Jisung is free to get involved with whoever he pleases. He doesn't know how you feel and even if he did, you don't think he would reciprocate. 

And despite everything, your heart still aches for him. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" Jisung  tells you. There's a sadness to his voice that supplies that you can't escape this conversation because you simply cannot stand it when something prevents him from being his happy-go-lucky self. But you can delay it. 

You pull the fridge open slowly, scanning the items, alcohol, milk and a few other things that are necessary to spend the weekend. They definitely were newly bought. 

 Jisung pushes the fridge door wider, sighing, he pulls a can and hands it to you. "If this is about the girls, I'm not-"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Sungi—I mean, Jisung." You stare down at the perspiration collecting between your fingers and  the can, then set it down immediately in fear of it slipping out of your hands. Jisung stiffens at the transition, a faint look of pain flashing in his eyes. What did he do that is so wrong? 

You feel horrible for making him feel bad, aren't you supposed to be an adult? Aren't you supposed to have a strong grapple on your emotions? This isn't good for the two of you, you don't want to hurt him because of how you feel, Jisung needs you to be his friend and you can't accept, even after so long, that that's all you are to him. 

 "I don't think we should be friends anymore."

"What?" He purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why?" He provides, raking a frustrated hand through his hair when your mouth parted instead of giving him an answer. "Did I do something? You could have just talked to me about it but..." He muttered shakily, repeating, "Why...this?"

Jisung glares at you, he looks so clueless, angry, blatantly hurt and  it's such a selfish thing to ask of him, the least you can do is be honest with him, though you couldn't fight the annoyance from seeping into your tone because he apparently had not a clue. 

"God, don't you see it?!" You placed a warm hand against your forehead, "I'm...in love with you...I love you, okay?"

You start to panic when the tense expression melts into his  features, replaced by something you couldn't put a finger on, "Don't get me wrong, I don't expect you to reciprocate or anything. It's stupid, I thought I was over you but I'm…I'm not. And I can't...I can't watch you get on with someone who isn't me, especially when…" you trail, preparing to admit the truth to yourself once and for all, "...you don't already love me back. I can't...It'll hurt too much…" 

"So...I think...it's better for the two of us to not continue this friendship anymore." You gulp, your palms shaking by your sides, those words have been taking refuge inside you for too long and saying them makes you feel empty, like you've lost something that keeps you grounded and you'd be aimlessly floating about for the rest of your life. 

"I know I'm asking for too much…"

Jisung interrupts you with a wry laugh, the sound startling you. He never spoke to you that way, not even when you argued before.

"Yeah, you're right, you are."

"Well, I'm sorry."  You breath out. 

He leans closer so your hip presses against the cool counter. He drags his fingers from the exposed skin of your collarbone to your neck, tilting your chin up with his thumb while the remaining digits splay against  your throat, "Sorry doesn't cut it." 

 The kiss sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to straighten up from your slumped position. Your knees feel like jelly, like they could collapse any minute. Jisung deepens the kiss, grazing his teeth along your bottom lip, he props you up on the counter and you sense yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, tugging on to his hair to draw out a groan from him; touching him feels so surreal, even though it's a reminder of just how real everything that's happening is. 

"I…" he breathes heavily, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I didn't know what to do with how I felt and seeing you again...it just made me realise that I couldn't ignore it anymore. There were times when I couldn't help myself, I felt like I needed to see you when I couldn't, so I did, even if it meant I had to lie. I love taking care of you. I love our dumb inside jokes and I love the way we can't go long without talking. Hell, I love everything we do together." He chuckles, "But I didn't say anything because you told me you were over it. I... just assumed you were only interested in being friends with me." You don't think you've properly registered the sentences, maybe it's the suddenness of it all, maybe it's because you've never actually pictured this. You told yourself, this is how it's supposed to be, that Jisung was never supposed to feel the same. Just with that alone, you had axed your own foot, screwed yourself over more than anyone else did.

Jisung's face breaks into a sudden grin, he pecks your pouted mouth. "But I'm glad I was wrong." 

"Did you just kiss me?" You joke, touching his face, tracing your fingers against his cheeks, the skin glossy and pinkish under the touch, his pupils are blown to large black circles, the brown in them barely visible. 

"I don't know, did I?" Jisung deadpans, narrowing his eyes jovially. 

 He eases into the embrace when you slump against him in a tight hug. The chuckle comes out all muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Hmmm, can't be too sure."

You wrap your arms around his neck, it's like you just can't stop smiling. When you think about it, that's what being around Jisung was like, really. Your digits traverse from the side of his jaw to cup his cheeks, eyes peering into his. You watch as he blinks incredulously, there's something impatient about the way you look at him. Then you tilt your head and kiss him, gathering a faint taste of chapstick whilst your tongue prodded at his bottom lip. 

A low moan thrums against his chest, his mind failing to produce a single coherent thought. Because, God, he knows exactly what you're doing. 

This time the gesture is needy, desperate, as though to convey a strong desire to be completely consumed by him,  to be ruined by him. You raise your hips to brush against his lower abdomen, eliciting a low groan from his throat. 

"Baby not here." He breathes out, gauging your intention whilst resting his forehead atop yours. His palm traces the skin of your thighs, travelling up your sides, a free hand which rests at your neck coming to rest at your jaw. His delicate thumb journeys upwards, tugging your bottom lip out and then slowly retracting the digit. Somehow, the gesture makes his eyes darken even more, if that's possible. "Let's go upstairs."

You're so breathless and shocked and have your head stuck way  so far up  up in the clouds that the statement sounds imperceivable. "What?" You blink dumbly, with your hands on his shoulders.

A husky laugh made reverberates inside his chest, "We can’t...here."

As if on cue, you whimper needily at the weight of the implication. The thought of what is to unfold upstairs making your throat close up. You understood the purpose of his statement, the rest of the boys would soon gather into the beach house because it was getting dark soon, the sky was gargling its throat in the distance too, it would rain and neither of you were keen on PDA.

Jisung's teeth graze along your throat, his fingers around it to keep your head pressed to the door while your thighs are snuggly bracketed around his lithe waist. His need is apparent when he grinds up into your body. You're all but putty under his touch.

It's dark. But you can still make out how absent the room's paraphernalia is, just a bed which is stripped to the bare essentials of a white blanket and scratchy sheet, giving away the fact that visits aren't made too often. You don't care about all that though, Jisung pushes you back against the mattress, pulling his shirt over his head before resuming his position on top of you. 

You can't understand how you kept away from him for so long. 

...

Between your short, bitten and misshapen fingernails, the word Premiere reads on the tickets  in bold red slanted letters. 

You can't believe what was once a figment of your imagination, a rubbish script you wrote whimsically on too much caffeine and too little sleep was going to unfold right before your eyes.

It's crowded inside the subway, you stare at the heads, faces, shirts, jackets, arms and legs and your heart is beating too loud, like you ran a marathon or drove a sports car way past its speed limit, rammed it into a tree and flipped it over.

 All the world's a stage and all men and women merely players.

(You should be scared, you should be scared, you should be scared.)

 Delicate, lithe fingers quickly travel down your palm to squeeze the tense digits at the end, his free hand is rubbing circles on the back of your neck; you stare into those brown eyes and without really thinking, press a quick kiss to his pouting lips, it's difficult, he keeps grinning against your mouth but you pay little attention to those things now. 

"That was a good move, champ." Jisung winks briefly, tracing his thumb along your cheek as he nuzzles his nose against yours, "You always kiss people on the subway?"

You grin, with a slow shake of your head, "Just the hot ones."

(This is a stage. And the passengers are waiting. The Tale Of Two Cities. The couple. The mother. Like that nightmare you used to have. 

But, you think, it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter anymore. 

Because you've got your silver lining.)

#pls feel free to scream in the tags i love it <3 #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #jisung smut #jisung angst #jisung fluff #jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x stay #jisung x stay #han jisung x reader #lee know x reader #chan x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz x reader #han smut #han imagines #kpop angst #kpop imagines #jisung imagines #han jisung imagines

[carnationcreation]

Safe haven (Will Byers x reader)

Masterlist

Prompt/summary: Reader is new in town and gets trapped in the upside down with Will

Word Count: 1,988

Warnings: Kidnapping (if you can call it that), mentions of PTSD, trauma bonding, etc.

Hawkins, Indiana was definitely a… strange town. I could never really pinpoint what made me think that but somewhere in the back of my mind that is just how I would describe it. Adjusting to a new life in a town that made me vaguely uncomfortable was not how I pictured my middle school years to finish up.

The move came as a surprise. With my dad getting a job at Hawkins lab my mom and I didn’t really have a choice but to move with him. After about a week of unpacking my mom finally got a job at the local newspaper as a secretary.

My science class was definitely interesting. Mr. Clarke was an enthusiastic teacher who really only taught to the four boys sitting up front, the rest just seemed like background characters. Everyone realized that they could get away with raising their hand only once a day and sometimes even less than that. Regardless of if the answer was correct or not Mr. Clarke would take that as participation and wouldn’t really force anyone to talk after that. Being the new kid that was amazing.

When I wasn’t at school I was either one of two places. One being at the office with my mom, or two blowing my allowance money at the arcade. Tonight was arcade night. Mom stayed late to finish up some last minute papers while I spent 2 hours playing Dig Doug and stuffing my face with chilli dogs from the concession stand. I even made the top score tonight. Before I knew it the clock finally hit 8:30 signalling closing time. I grabbed my bike off the rack and began my ride home.

The ride home was dark. My bike lamp was out so I tried to use the flashlight I kept in my bag. Riding one handed was not fun. I could feel clouds forming leaving the moisture smell in the air.

I heard something behind me and soon enough Will Byers pulled up next to me, “Hey!” he shouted, “you ride through Mirkwood?”

“What?” I shouted back.

“This road is called Mirkwood by the locals, where’s your house?”

“Just beyond the ridge, my dad works at the lab” I said, his bike lamp was now illuminating the way so I put my flashlight into my front basket.

“I didn’t even know you lived that close to me,” he smiled.

“Me neither.”

Just then Will’s lamp started flickering. We both jolted on our bikes trying to adjust to the darkness. Right as we started up the hill a tall lanky figure appeared in front of us. We both swerved to the right. We sped down a hill and into a ditch. My bike crashed into a try sending my flying onto my back. For a second I laid there trying to regain the wind that was knocked out of me.

“(Y/n)! Come on we gotta get out of here!” Will said. He pulled me to my feet and we began to run through the woods. Tripping over tree limbs and stumbling over rocks.

“My house is right over here,” he yelled.

We ran inside. Turning the lock and the deadbolt before he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the back. “Johnathan? Mom?”

His dog continued to bark. Will grabbed the phone and tried to dial 911, but a loud static sound was heard even from where I stood. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest knife out of the block. A loud bang was heard at the front door and Will dropped the phone.

“There’s a gun out back,” Will said.

We barricaded the shed door as much as we could, Will fumbled with the rifle but soon had one in the chamber and pointing at the door. I gripped the knife so tight my knuckles went white.

A strange gurgling was heard behind us.

As we turned around, there it was.

We were gone before we could react.

________________________________________________

We woke up in the woods.

Not in the same woods we ran through, but I swear it was the same one just… dark. The same feeling I got in the back of my head walking through town. Random particles flew through the air. Spores? Dust?

Will groaned from beside me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I think so.”

From ahead was the same gurgling we heard last night.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Run.”

________________________________________________

We ran.

For 2 days we ran. Breaking into gas stations and the grocery store to hide and steal food when we could. Everything tasted bland or stale. We stashed water bottles in our backpacks along with chips and granola bars. Taking turns sleeping and staying on the move.

It was terrifying.

Every single noise felt like it was my last moment alive. Every movement out of the corner of my eyes made me jump. When I could sleep it felt like I hadn’t at all. We never got a good look at that, well, thing, that took us. All we knew is that it was huge and dangerous. The tentacles tried to grab us but we dodged as much as we could.

It was so cold we would sleep in the same sleeping bag we found. Any embarrassment went out the door due to me almost getting frostbite on my toes. We took shifts sleeping when we could. I think Will let me sleep longer than our agreed time but I never said anything. It made me feel selfish.

Sometimes when we thought it was safe we would talk. Anything that came to mind we would discuss, trying to make it feel like we weren’t being hunted by a creature in a strange world we didn’t know. We talked about music, books, science, video games. Anything.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” I asked. Will shifted so he could look down at me. My head was on his shoulder and his arm was around me. The ground was hard under us but I felt the most comfortable I could be at that moment.

“Well, I think so. My mom always tells us how she loves us more than anything, and Johnathan is the only brother I have. What about you?”

“My dad isn’t around much, my mom tries her best to make my life seem normal but it doesn’t always work out. I know she’s probably tearing up the town trying to find out where I am. Oh gosh I hope she doesn’t think I ran away.”

“Our bikes were left in the woods, I think they would’ve found them by now. How long has it been?” Will said, he stretched his right arm out to place behind his head as a pillow.

“A few days at least,” I said before I yawned loudly.

Will smiled, “Get some rest, I’ll take first watch.”

I pressed my nose towards his shoulder to hide my smile. Just as I began to drift off the words popped into my head. He’s my safe haven.

We were exhausted.

I think that was part of the creature's game. It wanted us to run and wear ourselves out so it could kill us easier. I tried to fight that theory with everything I could. I stocked energy drinks when we could find them, we made coffee one night to drink the next morning, anything we could to give us enough energy to run the next day.

But it wasn't enough.

________________________________________________

It finally got us.

All that running just made us fall into its trap.

Watching Will get picked up by the tentacles and dragged away from me played over in my mind. The last thing I remembered was the thing shoving some sort of gross tube down my throat. And now it just feels like I’m lucid dreaming. I saw my house, not the one in Hawkins but the one I lived in before we moved. My family was inside. I thought I was safe yet I still felt that feeling in the back of my brain. That’s when they attacked me.

The nightmares only got worse from there.

I felt myself slowly slipping away. Like a battery in my brain was slowly being drained. I fought to keep dreaming but I was getting flooded with the exhaustion and the want to give up.

Where was Will? I just wanted to be back in the sleeping bag with him. I wanted to feel his arms around me and his slow breathing in my ear.

I felt something being ripped out of me. My lungs felt like I was underwater. I felt someone pressing on my chest and I woke up coughing. I sputtered, gasped, and cried as I was lifted into someone's arms.

“(Y/n)? This is police chief Hopper. You’re safe now.”

He looked familiar. I racked my brain trying to think of where I saw him but I only had one thought on my mind. Hopper placed an oxygen mask over my face.

“Will?” I gasped out. My chest still hurt.

“He’s right here,” a woman said, she had him cradled in his arms.

I reached out to him. I needed to make sure he was still there. That this wasn’t a nightmare.

He grabbed on to my hand.

“Please don’t let go,” I sobbed.

“I promise,” he said.

And he didn’t.

Not when we were put into the car, not when we got to the hospital, not even when we were being treated. The adults just left us alone. We were put in two beds as close together as possible. At one point a doctor came in to take my vidals and tried to pull me away from him, I don’t know exactly why but I broke down. Another doctor came in and explained something about trauma bonding and PTSD.

My parents came to see me. Dad didn’t look too happy about me holding hands with a boy, but he still didn’t say anything. Apparently he quit his job at the lab.

Weeks passed by in an instant. The nightmares never stopped but they did get better. Will showed me castle Byers and we often went there after I asked him over the radio. His friends accepted the fact that I would hang around since I never wanted to be far from the Byers boy.

At one point Mike pulled me to the side, “Thank you for keeping him alive.”

“We kept each other alive.”

I never got to meet El. Which was a shame because I’d always wanted to meet a real life Jedi. But as time went on she became an afterthought. My mind stayed focussed on school and the next time I’d get to see Will again. I slowly managed to deal with my separation anxiety (as my therapist called it) and began doing my own thing most days, but I was still over at the Byers house as often as possible.

“Do you think they’ll stop?”

“Stop what?” I asked.

“The nightmares,” Will said, “Do you think they’ll stop?”

I sat the comic book I was reading down on my lap and sighed, “Maybe one day, for now I’m just so thankful that we’re alive they don’t bother me as much.”

“Can I say something?”

I looked in confusion, “You can tell me anything Will.”

“I think-” he coughed into his hand, “I think… I’m in love with you.”

I wasn’t surprised but was still left speechless. I scooted closer to him on the bed.

And we kissed.

After that, I knew there was gonna be no one else but him. No one else who will ever know what I went through, no one else who will know how I need to be held after I had a nightmare, no one else that can calm the racing thoughts I’ve had since November 6th, and no one else I would want to face the fear of something as new as relationships.

He was my safe haven.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #will byers #will byers imagine #will byers x reader #noah schnapp #noah schnapp imagine #noah schnapp x reader #carnationcreation #netflix

[rhenuvee]

The Heart in You pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

Request: Could you do something along these lines? Love you soo much <3 your imagines make me happier. It would mean the world to me if you could do this!! Request: Could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where the reader is Fred's best friend but they never really show affection, they insult each other all the time and occasionally Fred flirts, teasingly. But Fred gets all nervous and goes soft when y/n is visiting their home since its so small and you know.. they're poor and stuff... thanks <3

Link to pt1: Here

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

You were peacefully walking through the corridors, ready to spend a cozy Sunday afternoon being warm from the cold with your friends. It was quite surprising how little disturbance there was, as if you were in a scene in a movie. 

That is, until you heard the sudden roars of laughter, clapping, and awe. You gritted your teeth- you knew that the peace was too good to be true. You decided to change your direction, hoping that this path would bring an end to this once and for all. 

This was something you’ve been dealing with for the past week, and it’s been pissing you off. You found the source of the crowd of noise, seeing that it was coming from out in the courtyard. It was just as you expected. 

“-and then there I was, cornered! Like a poor gazelle standing out in the open!” narrated a voice you knew too well. You stood watching from a distance with your arms folded, seeing as a specific redhead told a story you almost knew by heart by now.

Just as rehearsed for the past seven days a week, you saw the same dramatic gestures by none other than Fred Weasley. His stupid chocolate brown eyes which you couldn’t bother to look at, his stupid smile which you swore he had on 24/7- Although you had to admit, something even more stupid was the first and second years genuinely interested and believing in his anecdote. 

“I almost died, but I stayed strong!” you facepalmed as he scrunched up his face way too dramatically. “She- the lion, sneaking up, ready to jump out and-”

“WEASLEY!” you yelled interrupting him, hearing enough of his crap. It seemed to scare some of the first and second years as they jumped and turned to see you.

“It’s the lion! Run!” shouted Fred. The kids yelled their lungs out and ran in all different directions all to get away from ‘the lion’. You marched your way to Fred, trudging your way towards him. You didn’t care about your shoes getting wet from the snow, all you cared about was slapping that smirk off his face.

“Yes?” he said rather casually from his spot, leaning against the wall.

“Yes? That’s all you have to say to the ferocious lion?” you asked incredulously. He chuckled.

“Actually, I do have something to say, though we may need a spell to translate between your roaring.” You scoffed at his terrible joke.

“I hate you.” 

“We know that’s a lie, love.” You rolled your eyes. You knew that the reason the story started in the first place was because of that day you asked him to the yule ball. He tricked you, and his ego was just getting bigger. 

“And what makes you think that?” you retorted.

“You’re the one who asked me to the ball, love.” he said scoffing. You mentally slapped yourself for having a question with an obvious answer. The term of endearment definitely didn’t help in trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“I was drunk.” you replied quickly. Fred in turn laughed at your quick statement, causing you to laugh a little.

“Really? Then you should get drunk more often.” 

“I think you’re drunk, gazelle.” you said poking his chest then turning to leave. Though, this didn’t stop him from hopping from his place and catching up with you.

“Am I now?” he asked pressing further.

“Yes Fred, bye.” you said as you were about to leave him and turn a corner.

“Alright, don’t miss me too much darling!” 

“Fred!”

---

“Hey (y/n)!” called someone from behind you. You stopped and turned to see George who was slowing down to stop near your spot. 

“Hey George. What’s going on?”

“Are you doing anything this holiday?” he asked.

“Hm, probably just gonna go home for the break, same as every year... why?” 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to ours for Christmas.” Your eyes widened at his offer. You had never been to the burrow before.

“You don’t have to, but I know it would make a certain gazelle really happy.” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“If it would make him happy, why couldn’t he ask me himself?” 

“Well riddle me this, would a gazelle purposely perch itself out in the open where any predator- ow!” You playfully punched George in the arm, seeing as the story was starting to rub on him.

“Sorry- what I meant to say was, it would also make myself, Ginny and Ron really happy. You’re our best friend (y/n)... also, mum’s been asking for you as well.” 

“Your mum? Asking about me?” you said shocked.

“You’ve been mentioned here and there.” he said casually. You bit your lip, trying to supress a smile. You were invited to the burrow, which you’ve heard only good things from Harry and Hermione. 

“Alright, I’ll send an owl to my parents and ask them.” you said. He nodded with a grin, knowing his twin would be ecstatic to hear this. 

---

Your parents were a little surprised that you were going to spend the holidays at the burrow. They’ve never met the twins, just like how Arthur and Molly only heard a few things about you. Nonetheless, they were glad to see you so happy to be with your friends. On another note, you were very very nervous. Maybe it was because of seeing the rest of the Weasley family, but also for very stupid reasons. 

“Oh (y/n), it’s so good to finally meet you dear! Come inside now!” You were welcomed by Molly herself, engulfing you in a tight and warm hug.  You smiled, instantly relieved that Molly liked you enough to hug you.

“I’ve heard so many things about you.” she said maintaining a bright smile. 

“And I’ve heard that you heard many things, all good I hope.” you said.

“Only the best.” she said swiping your cheek then turning to lead you deeper into the house. You walked in, and your eyes couldn’t help put to move left and right. 

“(Y/n)!” You then saw Ginny appear, running as fast as she could down the stairs, then jumping and hugging you just like her mother did. You both squealed in excitement. 

“Hey idiots! Your favourite person is here!” Ginny yelled calling for the twins. 

“Ginny!” scolded Molly with her arms crossed. You giggled. You watched as the two tall figures stepped down to where you were.

“Well look who it is.” George said smirking and leaning in for a hug. Once you pulled away, you saw Fred, but you couldn’t help but notice something was weird about him.

“Hi.” he said curtly, but with a small smile. 

“Hey...?” you greeted, letting your confusion be slightly present. He also went in for a hug, though it was a lot lighter than the ones you’ve received so far.

“Do you want any food?” asked Fred. 

“Um sure.” you shrugged. You thought it was a little strange that Fred was being so ‘nice’ to you. I mean, like George said, would a gazelle let itself stand in the open and offer food for a predator? But you decided to brush the thought off, besides, you really ought to get that dumb story out of your head.

The first evening with the Weasley’s went well. You were able to meet the rest of the family as well as Harry and Hermione which you realized later that they were here. Molly’s cooking was delicious, and you were glad to be apart of the holiday gathering. You were glad that everyone was willing to welcome you, despite being new to the burrow. 

It wasn’t until a couple hours after dinner, when it was late and you spotted Fred and George sitting on the couch, fiddling with what you expected was some of their future joke shop products.

“Hey.” you said heading over to sit with them. George smiled, then quickly jumped up to leave.

“I gotta go to the bathroom. See ya!” he said a bit too joyfully. I mean- tis the season, but one could not be that excited to go to the bathroom. You then scooched closer to Fred, and he noticed with a small grin. 

“Hey you.” he said bringing his lanky arm to wrap around you and bring you even closer. You blushed at the extremely close proximity between you two, but if you were being honest, you didn’t mind one bit. This was secretly what you wanted, right?

You remembered the day you asked Fred to the yule ball quite clearly. After that incident, he was a huge ball of chaos and energy. You remember him skipping down halls, and how you had to chase him to shut up when he started the gazelle story.

And when the night of the ball finally arrived, you were a big bundle of nerves- and Fred was being a cocky little shit as usual... but aside from that, there were things he did that made you have the most fun you’ve ever had in your life. You didn’t forget how much he made you laugh and smile that night. 

And now, you let the thought of his silence creep over again. He spoke and cracked jokes during dinner, but he was still quieter than you’ve experienced. You sat in the same silence as he seemed to be fixing a product.

“Fred...?” you said looking at him, a little surprised that your faces were closer than you expected. 

“Hm?” 

“Uh, are you okay?” you asked. You tried to ask it in the most subtle way possible. He only looked at you with an unreadable expression. The weirdest thing being that he had no witty comeback, or any line to start your typical banter. 

“Yeah.” he said giving a closed mouthed smile again, then looking back at the joke products. Jeez, why did boys have to be so hard to read? To you at least. 

“I just, ‘m surprised you accepted when George invited you here.” he muttered, but you heard it loud and clear. 

“And why would you be surprised?” You didn’t know what to feel. His head pointed downwards- suddenly this moment felt really familiar. You were a bit skeptical if you were being truthful. After a long pause, he suddenly chuckled awkwardly to himself and sat up, leaned back until his head was tilted back on the top edge of the couch.

“I’m mad for you.” he said shifting himself so that his head was still tilted back but facing you. All your jumbling thoughts couldn’t force itself out of your mouth. You just sat there, your eyes bulging out of your head, and mouth in an o shape.

“W-what?” you managed to say. Now you were very very skeptical of what was to happen. You do not want to be tricked by him again, and leave you a blushing mess. 

“I’m mad for you- do you need me to spell it out?” he asked. With the dim lighting you couldn’t see the slight flush of red on his cheeks. He brought his hand to cover his eyes, still showing his lips which were curved up in a flustered smile. 

“I- are you being serious?” you asked in confirmation. 

“Am I- yes I am (y/n), I’m mad for you. I said it three times, now you gotta believe me.” he said taking away the hand covering his face. You didn’t even try to hide the pink tinting your face. You shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“You still don’t believe me do you.” he deadpanned. You didn’t answer to that. He chuckled, already knowing your answer. In one swift motion, he cupped your cheek with his hand and brought you in closer for a kiss. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed against and moved in sync with yours. 

You moved so that you were able to put both your hands on his shoulders to bring him closer. You could feel the hum from his lips when he heard you let out a little noise. Both of you were speechless blushing messes once you pulled away with the ‘smooch’ sound.

“Believe me now?” he said in almost a whisper. You nodded frantically, earning a smirk from Fred, as well as a beckoning gesture to ask you to cuddle next to him. You followed, snuggling up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

...

“I always knew you had a heart in you.” 

...

“Excuse me?” 

You tried burying your head further inwards, as you attempted to stifle your giggles about to erupt. Yes, you really did just pull that card on Fred Weasley.

“What did you just say?” asked Fred ducking his head to your level, trying to get a glimpse of what he hoped did not just come out of your mouth. 

“Nothing!”

“You did not say nothing, princess.” he said trying to pry your hands clutching your face as you finally gave in and let out your laughter. You made the split second decision to bolt out of the living room and into the dining room to run away. Fred of course had no problem running after you. 

You were both giggly as heck as you both circled the dining table, which happened to be the only thing protecting you.

“Take it back!’

“No!”

And once you said that, he made a dash for the tight corner and was able to capture you from behind. You squirmed with your legs kicking out as he held you tightly and swung you in a circle.

“Take it back!” he said in your ear.

“I won’t! This is what you get Weasley.” 

“What I get? For what?”

“For...-” You realized then that if you said the reason, he would know that he was the reason you got flustered in the first place.

“What? Am I too handsome for you?” he asked as he placed you down, but still pinned you to the counter. 

“In your dreams!”

“And in real life too.” 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” you huffed crossing your arms. However, your attempt at trying not to smile failed horribly when you turned your head away from him.

“That means I won, princess.” he said smirking and tilting your head back to face him.

“Oh shut up Fred, you-”

“Make me shut up-”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” You and Fred both jumped when you saw George and Ginny intrude. And worse, when you were both getting riled up at each other. 

“There will be no ‘make me shut up’ in this house.” said George mockingly as Ginny stood next to him laughing. You deadpanned at Ginny clearly not helping the situation.

“You’re not going to encourage them? It’s about time.” said Ginny.

“Gin, if you knew me, you’d know that I’m not even surprised.” replied George sarcastically.

“Oh sod off, both of you. Bein’ two creeps.” said Fred shooing them away. George and Ginny gave each other a knowing look and did as told. Fred then immediately turned back to focusing on you.

“So, what were you thinking on making me shut up?”

#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred and george #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley fluff #Fred Weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley one shot

[backtothestart02]

Lust and Love at Seventeen - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: New fic time! I think you guys will like this one. I really, really do. ;)

...

Synopsis: HS!AU - Iris is about to date the most popular boy in school. There’s only one problem. She has no experience. What she does have is her best friend, Barry Allen, who she can practice on so she doesn’t embarrass herself. Problem solved. Right?

...

Chapter 1 -

Stacy’s car slowed as the opening to the driveway appeared. Music could be heard not far away, so loud that Barry swore the ground almost shook. With dread in his eyes and his heart, he risked the inevitable and looked out the window to his doom.

The big house at the top of the hill had been a source of loathing for Barry for the past three years. Self-loathing mainly, at how he allowed himself to be dragged there twice a month, sometimes more than that in the summer. But also, he loathed Bradley Baker, the most popular kid in the senior class, who lived in that house and had Iris West, his live-in best friend and love of his life, permanently starstruck.

He’d bumped into her accidentally at the beginning of freshman year and apologized verbally then, and also by presenting her with a paper flower at the end of the day. A gesture that had stayed ingrained in Iris’ memory ever since that day. He hardly spoke to her after the incident, but Iris maintained that he smiled at her in the hallway, and to him she was always ‘the girl I gave the paper flower to’, no matter how many times Iris informed him of her actual name.

Not that she minded, of course. She had a special name from him. A little long-winded, if you asked Barry, but he’d stopped reminding her of that fact. She didn’t care. She was blind with infatuation. Everything was Bradley, Bradley, Bradley, and if anything could get her in his sights for a second longer than a glimpse in the hallway, she was sure to do it and bring Barry with her so she didn’t look idiotic by herself if her plan were to backfire. Which it often did.

Two is better than one, they say.

Tonight’s diabolical plan was to go to the big party at Bradley’s house, which wasn’t all that diabolical since he’d invited the entire school – and could afford to, given how huge the house was, and that was dad was practically a millionaire. Barry and Iris got their ride from Stacy, since she’d just gotten her driver’s license and was eager to get out on the road.

The second Iris had informed him of this, he’d started to connect the dots and come to the unfortunate conclusion that he’d be spending the night with the Baker’s dog in the foyer while everyone else partied in the house and backyard.

Stacy was Iris’ other best friend. They were in cheerleading together. Thankfully there was no rivalry over Bradley. Stacy wanted to be with Justin Clarke, Bradley’s best friend and fellow football player. The girls had been fantasizing about the double dates they would have ever since the paper flower incident. Barry had ceased repressing his eyes rolling whenever it was brought up and he was in the vicinity.

“Barry!” An annoyed Iris called to him, snapping her fingers in his face.

Reluctantly, he blinked and focused in on what she was saying with furrowed brows.

“You coming or what?”

He sighed. Did he have a choice?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he said and climbed out of the car, careful not to bump his head sitting on top of his tall, lanky body.

He didn’t know what the point was in him being here when Iris had Stacy too, who was obviously more invested and supportive of the whole Bradley thing, but he’d given up arguing about it with Iris. He didn’t like to fight with her anyways, and they rarely did, so he’d decided to put this issue to bed. He vented with Joe on occasion – Iris’ dad – but he had to be careful what he said so he didn’t accidentally spill how many times they’d snuck back into the house after curfew for a party Iris just had to be at and drag him to.

So most of the time he kept his troubles to himself and actually ended up starting a journal to release his frustrations. That and conduct science experiments that periodically did damage to the roof of the garage in which he had them set up.

He could still hear Joe’s angry voice calling his name from the last explosion-level event that had gotten him grounded. To be fair, Barry had walked in on Iris kissing her mirror pretending it was Bradley and hadn’t been able to get the image out of his head. It both irritated and aroused him, and that was problematic all on its own.

“Barry!”

Barry looked up at the cooing voice he knew all too well. He plastered on a genuine smile. The only person that understood him through and through in this house had just walked back into his line of view.

“Hi, Mrs. Baker.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Care for some cookies?”

She pulled out a tray of cookies fresh from the oven, chocolate chip, his favorite. The scent was heavenly.

“Aren’t they for the party?” he asked, trying not to drool.

“They just came out of the oven. I thought I’d offer one to who was at the door next before putting them with the other snacks.”

Barry looked around briefly to see if he could catch Iris’ eye, but all he saw was the flip of her ponytail as she headed into the backyard with Stacy. He sighed.

Mrs. Baker frowned.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Barry looked back at her. “Oh, yeah. Just dandy.” He grabbed a cookie and stuffed it into his mouth. “Mmm.”

Her eyes sparkled in amusement.

“Here, come sit with me in the kitchen before you join the others. I know someone who’s been missing you.”

Barry finished his cookie and grinned. His eyes lit up as he followed her into the other room. A little brown and black dog came running to greet him and nearly jumped into his arms.

“Pepper!”

He pet the dog eagerly licking at his face and smiled wider.

“Oh, wow, someone has missed me!”

Mrs. Baker laughed warmly.

“Told you.”

Barry lifted the dog up into his arms and held her close, swaying back and forth a little. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before she quickly turned and got a swipe of his cheek with her tongue.

“You can stay with us if you want to.”

Barry lifted his head and set the dog back down.

“Huh?”

“I mean, if you didn’t want to join your friends.”

He flushed a bright red.

“Uhh…”

“I just noticed how you tend to end up back inside before the night is out.”

“Oh.”

“Only if you want to, of course. You can go wherever you like while you’re here.”

Barry forced a smile this time.

“Thanks. I think I should at least try to give the party a go. I’ll be back if it sucks.” He stopped, paling instantly. “I mean-”

She laughed good-naturedly.

“It’s quite alright, Barry. We’ll be here if you need us.”

He nodded and headed into the backyard just in time to see Bradley Baker slow dancing with his girl.

Abruptly, he turned back around and headed into the kitchen.

“You’re back!” Mrs. Baker said, then sobered immediately. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just uh…I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

She offered a small smile.

“I have a scrabble board. Interested?”

He sighed in relief, putting the image of Iris in Bradley’s arms out of his mind.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

…

It was after midnight by the time Iris West ended up back home. Stacy, having seen the exciting position her best friend had gotten herself into, left the party early with Barry in tow and dropped him off half a block from the West house, so he could sneak back in with Mr. West none the wiser.

Iris hadn’t wanted to leave, but as the party dwindled and she found herself without a ride home, Bradley volunteered to take her.

Her heart beating rapidly in her chest, she didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Now, the car having slowed right in front of her house, she turned to look at the boy who had stolen her heart.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, then looked down at her hand that he was holding between them. “And everything else.”

“Of course,” he said, intertwining their fingers.

Iris licked her lips.

“I can’t wait until your next party,” she said with stars in her eyes.

“How about tomorrow night?”

Her heart nearly stopped.

“Huh?”

“Iris West, will you go out with me?”

Frozen to the spot, Iris briefly lost the ability to speak.

“Iris?” A smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb over her hand.

“Yes!” she said, almost leaping into his arms but keeping herself in check. “Yes, yes, yes.” She laughed, happy tears in her eyes.

He laughed.

“Can I have your number?”

She swallowed and pulled out her phone, so she could put his contact in too.

“Uh-huh.”

Quickly they exchanged numbers, and then he started to lean in.

She held in her breath, hardly daring to believe what was happening. She was not ready for a kiss. She could barely handle hand-holding and a ride home and slow-dancing. Oh, my God, what a magical night it had been… It had been…perfect.

Luckily for her sanity, Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of her face before pulling back with a knowing smile.

“I’ll save the real thing for tomorrow night.” He winked. “Goodnight, Iris.”

She swallowed, forcing herself to move.

“G-Goodnight, Bradley.”

As gracefully as she could, she got out of the car and shut it behind her. He waved and took off. Slowly she made her way to the side of the house, quietly climbing into her bedroom window and shutting it once inside.

She slipped out of her shoes and party clothes, transitioning easily into her pajamas for the night. Then she laid down in her bed, put her pillow over her mouth tightly and screamed into it as she moved her legs excitedly under the covers.

Bradley Baker just asked her out on a date!

Two rooms away down the hall, Barry’s eyes had opened when he heard Iris climbing up the side of the house. Now all was still, but he heard the muffled scream as clearly as if she had been right next to him, and knew a feeling of dread.

Stacy’s all-knowing look as she dropped him off paired with her sympathetic apology rung in his head.

“I’m sorry, Barry.” I know how much you like her went unsaid.

He closed his eyes again now and turned over, trying in vain to get back to sleep.

The image of Iris in Bradley’s arms haunted him even in his sleep. It would be a long night.

...

*will post on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #lust and love at seventeen #chapter 1