#it literally feels surreal to be typing this at a REAL DESK

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: after many years of unsuccessful romance, your new workplace is that last place you had expected to meet the love of your life.

― warnings: literally none besides some suggestive content at the end.

― wc: 1605

⋆ a/n: yet again i'm back with a random fic, i was quite displeased with the smut: fluff: angst ratio on my account so i figured why not throw in this? this is already posted on ao3.

masterlist | AO3

You couldn't believe that this was real, even though you have pinched yourself more times than you could count today. It was like you were in a daze the entire day before your feet were planted on the sandy back porch of your honeymoon location, the grains feeling foreign under the soles of your feet, the splash of the waves sounding like a newly heard melody. The thought of the man of your dreams sleeping only a few feet away from you was surreal, the only thing separating the two of you being the sliding glass doors.

You didn't date a lot when you were a teenager, most of the boys only interested in the slim girls who did sports or knew how to dress; and even the boys that weren't even considered popular refused to see past your fat body. That fact never bothered you because you didn't want those type of people yearning after you anyways. When it came time for you to do something with your life, you randomly chose criminology. The people on TV made it look easy, so why not try it out?

That's how you landed yourself in the FBI hot seat, passing all of your tests with flying colors. Maybe it was because you had grew an unrelenting passion for the field, igniting that fire of determination that had long been put out.

You hadn't expected to be employed under the BAU, even being given the intimidating title of ‘Agent.’ Even though you were nervous, you hadn't expected much to come from it, maybe a few injuries, or life threatening situations — which you were prepared for — but nothing could prepare you for the boy genius you had heard so much about.

You liked to say that it was game over for you the moment he walked through the elevator of the bureau, his hair a mess, the cardigan he was wearing was loose, as well as his pants, but the outfit was surprisingly fitting. His large brown eyes were filled with curiosity as he watched his co-workers crowd around you, especially since Penelope had taken a special interest in you.

Morgan liked to say that you had hearts in your eyes when Spencer introduced himself to you, your hand clenching around your bag strap in an attempt to try & keep your composure. You wish you could say that the things you felt for him were superficial, but they continued to grow as you got to know the intelligent man. You learned to love his rambles, his random facts and history speeches, his spacing out when he's connecting the dots in his head, the sugary coffee that you were convinced was mostly just the sweetened grain, his ever changing haircuts. He was perfect to you.

You hadn't expected your feelings to amount to anything, but that all changed when Spencer stopped at your desk, his face flushed and his body twitching. Both of his hands held a coffee, his fingers visibly trembling. To others, this wasn't a surprise, everyone could tell that he had feelings for you; the way his stare would linger, how he would bring you your favorite kind of coffee when you were neck deep in files, how he would invite you to watch a movie with him (most of the time they were in another language), and his nerdy cons. All of the things that he held dear, he shared with you, yet you were still oblivious.

You had never seen him so nervous, his words coming out in a stutter as his eyes looked everywhere but yours, holding onto the styrofoam cup like a vice. You didn't hesitate to say yes to him, the look of relief on his face was admirable, your heart blooming in your chest.

You had no idea that your relationship would go down in history until Spence had gotten down on one knee, that same charming uneasiness on his face when he had first asked you to be his girlfriend. You could've screamed ‘yes’ at the top of your lungs if it didn't make you look like you were crazy. You could feel your inner high school girl swoon, a man that you deemed unreachable was now yours, and he wanted you to be in his life force, to exist with him as his wife. The concept shook you, the words ‘why’ buried deep in the back of your choked you as you stared at the ring on your finger, the band snugly fit, as if it was always meant to be there.

You had to admit that being engaged to Spencer was difficult — frustrating — seeing as though work has gotten in the way, and your lovely husband-to-be couldn't seem to keep his divorce rate facts to himself. You knew he was anxious, that he didn't mean anything by it, but sometimes one of his not so fun facts was the last thing you needed to hear. You knew you were going to have your moments together; you were about to be married to him for Christ's sake, you might as well get used to it if you didn't want to end up being a part of his statistics.

Penelope badgered you about the wedding; what's your color scheme? Who were going to be your bridesmaids? And her personal favorite, who was going to be your maid of honor?

You had yet to figure that out, because killers weren't considerate, they didn't care that you wanted to get married, or how you hadn't gotten more than two hours of sleep this past month. When you had finally found some free time, you decided to get hitched when everyone was gracefully given vacations. You were angsty, giving into Penelope and allowing her to plan almost everything, knowing that she'd probably get it done faster than you probably could've.

That's how you ended up here, gazing at the moon that casted it's light over the largely open water, the reflection causing a ripple down the middle, almost like something out of a movie.

The doors had prevented you from hearing any movement as Reid stirred awake, his body notifying him of the absence of your warmth that he had grown so familiar too was no longer lying next to him. He laid on his side as he spotted you standing there looking up at the moon, the glow of the night sky making you appear to him as a goddess, and even without it you were still as such.

The quiet pop of the door opening breached the silent atmosphere, his lithe but firm arms wrapped themselves around your soft waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. The mop of curls on his head that tickled the side of your face elicited a small shiver to run up your spine and wrack throughout your body.

“Hi, husband.” You said through a grin, your own reaching up to run your fingers through the strands. “Hey, wife.” He responded just as dreamily, his own voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing out here?” Your chest rose and fell at the question as a sign escaped you. “I'm just still shocked that it finally happened, that's all.” He nuzzled his nose into your cheeks, breathing in your natural musk. “Why?” You just shrugged. “It just felt like the odds were against us, you know? Work had been more stressful than ever, cases stacking up by the millisecond, it was as if everyone had decided that they wanted to kill someone.” You finished with a huff.

Spencer chuckled at the last part, but you were right, it has almost been a year of you two being engaged before you were able to even make a reservation.

“We're here now, aren't we?” He asked, gently spinning you around to face him. He looked gorgeous; his hair messy, lips chapped, his pajama shirt was wrinkled & slightly twisted, but nothing about his face showed any stress, even the bags that seemed to forever be an accessory on his under eyes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies pressed close together.

“From the moment I met you, it was as if my heart knew something that I didn't. For the first time in my life, I didn't know; I didn't know how to act, what to say, or how to treat you, but somewhere in my body wanted to get closer to you. I don't care about what others think about us when we're out in public, or that your thighs touch and your stomach hangs, you are already the most beautiful girl in the world to me. I only have eyes for you, and it'll stay that way for the rest of our lives.” He spoke just like he did at the altar, words tender and promising, nothing but truth underlined his words as his eyes shined in awe.

“You should've put those in your vows.” You said through tears. His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs swiping away at the salty liquid. “I meant what I said. I love you, _______.” He then joined your lips in a tender kiss, further displaying how complex his emotions for you truly were. There was no lustful intent, no expectation even though you had yet to have sex that night, just two people in love that promised eternity together.

When your lips separated, you let out a shuttering breath. “I love you too.” Your lips breaking out in a smile as he brought them together once again, your giggles disappearing into the night as he showered you with his affection in more ways than one.

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x plus size reader #spencer reid fanfiction #plus size!reader #x plus size reader #plus size reader #x chubby reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

[cinema-tv-etc]

What to Watch on Netflix: Better Off Ted

Our series to submit to this week is the canceled-too-soon, surreal workplace comedy, Better Off Ted.

Netflix is ever-reliable with making sure that its library runneth over with tempting, tasty television series to feast your eyes on. With more and more entries being added on what feels like a weekly basis, it’s easy to get lost in the shuffle and not be able to detect the gems from the Ark of the Covenants (face melters). There are a lot of overlooked, underseen wonders hiding behind the supershows that we all know. All you need is someone to sort through the fodder, letting you know what’s worth your time and what should go to the banish section (Netflix should consider adding a banish section).

The selection this week is the drowning in accolades but starving on viewers, former ABC series, Better Off Ted.

Backstory:

Better Off Ted was the unfortunately titled, yet surprisingly brilliant workplace sitcom that aired on ABC from 2009-2010. Created by Victor Fresco (Andy Richter Controls the Universe, Life on a Stick), someone known to push creative boundaries, the show saw a more than shaky start (its pilot received the lowest ratings for a debuting comedy on ABC since 2005) and struggled to find appreciation in spite of being a critical darling (maybe it was the name…). For a show that absolutely should have been canceled by all means, it was miraculously given a second season which managed to be even more impressive than the first (and naturally lower rated, accordingly). After a more and more erratic airing schedule, and the network taking any opportunity to burn off episodes, the show slowly faded away, with the final two episodes never even airing, disappointingly. Now, on Netflix, the show has definitely found a robust second-life (like any of the zombies, cyborgs, mecha-chimeras, etc. that are surely locked away within Veridian) and an appreciation deserving of its high, consistent quality.

Premise:

This workplace sitcom on acid chronicles Ted Crisp’s (Jay Harrington) employment as the head of research and development of the tyrannical, soulless megacorporation Veridian Dynamics.  The cast is fleshed out with Ted’s supervisor, Veronica Palmer (played with manic delight by a very in-her-game Portia DeRossi), and the rest of the co-workers and scientists that Veridian’s make-up consists of. While this all sounds pretty by the book, and typical workplace sitcom fare, the most interesting reason to check out this show was that it was created by Victor Fresco, creator of the infinitely creative (and equally short-lived) Andy Richter Controls the Universe.

It’s worth mentioning that another very real aspect of this show’s plot is the idea that Ted is also a single father raising a daughter, Rose, while trying to balance work and his morality with all of this. Granted, this feels much more like a tacked on aspect of the original network pitch, but it doesn’t end up feeling as extraneous as it needs to be. Ted’s daughter, Rose, manages to rise above the wealth of typical child characters in this type of show, acting as the moral compass, and her presence becomes more and more intermittent that it’s pleasant when you do see her, but she is hardly the show’s lynchpin or a necessary piece that’s needed to be seen every single week, and the show realizing this and not feeling encumbered by it, is better off as a result. Better Off Show! Better Off Us!

Seasons: 

Two seasons, twenty-six episodes. 

Why you should watch it:

Better Off Ted is a show that happened to build such a well-defined, ridiculous, entirely-its-own universe where Veridian is this fantastic shadow corporation where virtually any sort of plot line, whether it be a desk that grows hair or the literal production of lightning in a bottle, is possible. Few shows have stories that can feel so limitless, while simultaneously feeling incredibly grounded and believable too. It’s shocking how in so little time Better Off Ted managed to expertly define its boundaries and the tone of the comedy that it wanted to be telling.

While this may all sound fantastical, I’m sure some other person is telling you to check out their ridiculous workplace sitcom, Piece of Jake or whatever. So here’s an example of the sort of brilliant, wholly unique episode plots that this show, and this show alone was capable of: One episode sees Veridian’s motion-sensored light detectors no longer detecting black employees. This naturally leads to the company constructing separate water fountains for black employees to make them feel more special. Of course, this escalates to white employees needing to be hired to follow black employees around so they’ll be detected by the light sensors. This influx of white employees though causes a problem where legally an equal amount of black employees then needs to be hired, which of course then requires hiring more white employees to rectify that issue… 

A structure as complicated and intelligent as this (which also ends up being a larger parable for how this issue itself isn’t so black and white, heh) is a great example of just what this show was capable of, and clearly a show that was close to aping Arrested Development’s style. After all, this was only the third episode of the series, too. There are also dialogue exchanges like the following on a regular basis: 

HR: The company doesn’t make mistakes. Join our mailing list

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Ted: What about the memo announcing “Casual Fribsday”?

HR: The company said that wasn’t a mistake. They explained that the ancient Mayans prophesied Fribsday, the first ever eighth day of the week, which will occur in 2024. Which the company believes should be celebrated casually. I’m going to wear a denim pantsuit.

Or this attempt at romantic banter between Ted and Linda: 

Linda: You love rules. You should marry a rule. And have little rule children. And build a house made of rules.

Ted: You mean a house made of my own children.

Linda: That’s between you and your conscience.

Add to this impressive stylistic flourishes like Ted’s narrating, directly addressing the audience fourth wall breaking (which rather than being grating or an exposition crutch, is used as a means to streamline joke telling and underscore the insanity that’s going on), and the fake Veridian Dynamic ads–wonderfully sharp subversions of the typical motivational pabulum, like: Veridian Dynamics. Teamwork. It keeps our employees gruntled; Veridian Dynamics. Diversity. Good for us.; and, Veridian Dynamics. Friendship. It’s the same as stealing–are peppered between act breaks, and you have a show that’s telling comedy with a very different arsenal of weapons.

The cast of this show is every bit as interesting as the stories being told too, with Ted being a reliable straight man center that’s almost seen like a God at Veridian (a company that may actually be run by devils) but still allowed to get just crazy enough. Linda (Andrea Anders, who has bounced between many series after this, searching for a comedy home to be her own), Ted’s resident love interest, and eccentric scientists Lem (Malcolm Barrett) and Phil (Jonathan Slavin) are equally wonderful, offering more crazy balls to bounce off of everyone. DeRossi particularly shines as Veronica though, doing arguably some of the best work of her career here, which results in some quality dialogue from her cold character, like, “I’m just living an exciting and full life, burning the candle at both ends. The way my great-grandfather, a misunderstood candle maker, insisted candles should be burned.” Clearly the show is in no short supply for ridiculousness.

This series is for you if:

Seeing Veronica (and DeRossi) play a magician’s assistant when their estranged magician boyfriend returns to town, a social experiment examining what will happen when Lem’s white lab coat is randomly switched with a red one, and the cataclysmic repercussions that follow, Veridian spinning that sexual harassment attitudes are a disease and people aren’t responsible for their actions, turning an employee who literally worked himself to death to act as a example to make other employees work even harder, or a typo in a Veridian memo mandates that offensive language is mandatory in the workplace– which also sees Phil and Lem devising a mathematical equation for the best offensive insult (getting you “Lam-basted” or “Phil-libustered” accordingly), are all appealing storylines for you.

Final Verdict:

Better Off Ted is one of the best recent examples of how to successfully satire the workplace sitcom in an extremely original, off-kilter way, with an emphasis on crazy characters and somehow even crazier situations. With a mere two dozen and change episodes under its belt, each one a winner in a different way, the show was only showing more focus and confidence as its final episodes aired…which most people couldn’t even see. 

Better Off Ted. Overlooked Comedy. Now Who’s the Idiot?

#Better Off Ted. #Better%20Off%20Ted #TV show #Comedy #TV

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 2

Modern royalty au

(Image from Pinterest)

Cowritten with @lizzygal

I'm so sorry! I made a mistake while posting this yesterday so I'm reposting it now. Hope y'all enjoy💖

Note - Since y'all liked it so much we've decided to post this fic on both ao3 and my tumblr! There will be no taglists for this however💖 You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, Mentions of previous domestic abuse.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 8k

To be fair, Steven could understand why his mother was so upset after watching the entire footage from the royal steam rooms. He had a far better understanding after having seen the footage in question. The one that had led to his mother’s reaction that very morning.

Seated beside Carol on the ride back, he slipped in his wireless earbuds and pulled up the first video he found online on his phone.

A separate car had been sent for you for whenever your meeting completed. However, he had a whole series of his own back at the palace before his day could be considered over in the administrative offices. Days were never really over for him. Should anything happen somewhere in his nation, he would be informed. As was expected for a ruler.

Until then, he had fifteen or so minutes to kill till he arrived back at the royal palace, depending on city traffic.

Which was how he found himself watching what was obviously some sort of hidden camera. As the royal banya did not have CCTV cameras. Steve found himself making a mental note to himself to ask Carol about it.

After he watched the video.

He had the feeling that this would not be going away anytime soon. Therefore, he needed to know what was on there if he was going to have to defend his actions, or even speak about it.

It was somewhat surreal watching himself walk into view wearing nothing. Not even a towel. Talking with someone who was obviously you.

Based on where the camera was located, Steve could tell it was somewhere in the hallway that led from the steam rooms into either the showers or locker room. Thank all the saints above your back was to the camera. Half of it anyway. You were standing at a turn in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Half of you hidden. A towel wrapped around your body.

Thanking those saints above still that there was no sound, Steve watched on as a voice narrated the video, some celebrity blogger dissecting the footage as if it were a pivotal moment in some sporting event.

Steve watched himself turn to face you, facing the camera too and exposing his entire self to the world.

Not that he was ashamed. He had nothing to be ashamed about. Steve was built tall and powerful like his father and mother’s father. He kept himself in shape and as for the manhood that hung heavy between his thighs, he refused to be embarrassed by that either. The blogger however did have several opinions about what she referred to as, the royal sword.

She also seemed to be very opinionated when Steve watched himself kneel down in front of you. He’d never watched himself go down on you before and found himself transfixed, easily able to ignore the blogger’s excited rambling.

For once, Steve watched your hands sink into his hair as he sank between your legs. He watched your pleasure grow and grow, he watched you sag back into the wall and reach up, grabbing at it like a cat stretching out in the hot sun.

Seeing it happen like this? Steve felt like a voyeur. He felt like he was doing something wrong. And then, he watched you climax on his face. He watched your hands tighten up against the corner of the walls meeting. He watched himself stand and no longer noticed the commentary as he sheathed himself between your legs and proceeded to pound you into the wall without mercy.

His attention caught on one little inconsequential thing. Watching one of your legs that wound over his thigh bounce wildly each time.

Quickly he exited out of the video and blog. Unwilling to watch more. Pulling a bud from his ear, he glanced over at Carol who was watching the city fly by her window.

“Have you inquired as to if the palace guard has looked into how the video was taken in the royal banya?”

Blonde hair dusted her shoulders as she looked at her king. Carol answered without a second of hesitation. “Already done Your Majesty. The camera was found this morning. A webcam of some type. It’s been sent away for fingerprints and I have the best IT professional I know looking into it, to determine if we can track down who it belongs to. The royal guard has also launched an investigation into all palace employees.”

“Thank you,” he answered her with complete sincerity.

Captain Danvers had been at his side since he assumed the throne and had proven herself hundreds of times over. She was his confidant. She was his bodyguard. She was his closest thing to a friend, if Steve could say he had such a thing. He could tell Carol anything. He had told Carol about you. Carol had told him about her sick mother and in return, Steve have given her a cottage on palace grounds while providing a nurse. So that Carol would be able to spend as much time as possible with her mother in her final days. Carol still lived on the palace grounds in that cottage down by the gardens.

“I’ll let you know when I know something,” she assured him.

***

Your return to the palace felt like it took forever. Mostly because your panties were very obviously damp from leakage and you were greatly concerned about a wet stain. The modern equivalent of a scarlet letter. Letting everyone know what you’d done.

Twice you’d checked in a bathroom along with every mirrored surface you came across.

Alas, it seemed you were in luck.

No one would know that you’d had inappropriate contact on a workday, or think you’d had an accident. Granted if someone would have noticed you planned on blaming your monthlies.

By the grace of the many women who came before you, you managed to get back to the palace without being caught and were about to go change your panties when a familiar face popped into your office.

“Hey! You’re coming! I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Wanda.

Bright red hair and a brighter red dress that was far from office appropriate appeared in your office, leaping in like an acrobat leaping onto a stage. Making you look up from where you stood behind your desk, digging through your handbag.

A bunch of different thoughts buzzed through your head.

What was Wanda talking about? Where did she want you to go? Did Wanda wear that mini-dress to work? Cause it was about five inches too short and did downright sinful things to the girls. Wanda could always pull off anything. She looked amazing in clubwear, sweats and those tea-party dresses that Jackie O was always wearing.

“Coming?” Fell from your lips in a valiant attempt to stall till you could make sense of what was happening. “What are you not taking no for an answer for this time?”

In your roommate swept like a hurricane.

“It’s practically six!” She declared, as if that was supposed to mean something to you. It had you staring at her and waiting for more information. Hands paused in their hunt for clean panties and a pantyliner in your bag’o’stuff. “No more talk of this fake boyfriend. You and me are going to go have dinner. We’re going to hit the bars to pre-game and then to the clubs! Everyone is going so you are too!”

Such news had you freezing in your patent leather pumps.

Pre-gaming? Dinner? Clubs? Everyone?

How?

It was only Thursday and then you remembered.

It was a long weekend. The winning of some great victory over the Germans from the big war that you only kinda remembered hearing about. Mostly because you’d been busy with the border issue and the education overhaul. You’d known that it was coming up and the entire four-day weekend would be spent celebrating.

Wanda saw your face. She saw what you were thinking. She was practically a mind reader. Which led her to pointing at you scoldingly. “No! No no no! No checking emails or messages. No more work. No! We’re going out tonight and we are going to have fun! You remember what fun is? Right?”

But…you really did have emails and messages to check. You actually did have a ton of work to do. Granted you always had emails and messages to check, plus work piling up. It was the nature of your job. Helping in the running of a country was a 24/7 gig.

“Wanda…”

“Nope!” She declared, marching on into your office and behind your desk to chase you out. Shooing you. Literally making you hop away and grab your handbag because you just knew Wanda wasn’t letting you back near your desk. That much was for sure.

Like a sheepdog, she herded you around your messy desk as you attempted to protest, to get her to listen, to inform her that you really really did have a good bit of work to do.

“Wait…hold on…wait, Wanda…just one second…gah!”

“No more protests! I’m not going to hear it anymore! I refuse to let you hide behind work or the fake boyfriend.”

More protests came from you. You tried. You really really did. But Wanda was shoving and pushing and hip bumping you out into a hallway that did not look like an office building, instead, it was very obviously a palace.

Your heels clicked on polished white marble that shone. Walls were cream and had priceless art hung around, gold gilded borders ran up along where the ceiling met the walls. Light fixtures were old, bronze and cut glass. Furniture that belonged in Sotheby’s was sparsely decorated around the halls.

Door were old and creaky up and down the halls, wooden with locks that required big iron keys.

It was unlike any other place you’d ever worked.

You could feel and see and even smell the smokey history oozing from the walls.

A few people were hurrying out of their offices and locking the doors behind them, which Wanda didn’t even let you do as she went on indignantly. “No! Nope! Clint from Tinder will not wait forever! He digs foreigners and he has a job and he loves to dance!”

At mention of Tinder, your gut lurched.

Dear god not this again.

Why had you ever agreed to let Wanda make you a Tinder profile? At the time it seemed so reasonable. Let her make the profile and she’d get off your ass about your alleged imaginary boyfriend. Problem solved! How on earth were you to know she’d be on the damn app making matches for you?

“Why don’t you go out with Clint from Tinder,” you wanted to know, earning yourself a roll of Wanda’s eyes as you were dragged down along the hallway to the massive marble stairs. Looking as if they’d been carved from one piece, smoothly curling down a floor to the ground floor. Large chandeliers hung with cut glass that threw light everywhere. A massive painting hung up on the large wall of a long dead large royal family in the palace of past.

“He’s not my type. But he is absolutely your type.”

Somehow you doubted that.

Sighing deeply and focusing on not snapping your ankle on the stairs and in your heels, you followed Wanda down, mixing in with the few stragglers who were leaving work and making mental notes to text Steve and let him know you’d be late coming back to the palace that night. You were then planning when you could check your work emails and work-phone messages. That had to be done in a quiet place where no one could overhear. Maybe you could go out to the club and feign a tummy ache? Then sneak away from Clint? It’d probably be much easily to sneak away from Clint than Wanda.

Click. Click. Click.

With every step you maneuvered down your heels were noisy. You’d managed to fling your sizable bag over your shoulder and just knew Steve was going to be annoyed with you. But he was an adult. Being adults meant the two of you would have to do things that you didn’t want.

“So help me, if it kills the both of us, you and I will be going out tonight and having a fun time! This is a celebratory weekend! There are festivities going on all over the city!” Wanda went on, yanking you along behind her upon reaching the bottom step and heading in the general direction of the ground floor exits.

Hurrying along behind her, you followed but you weren’t happy about it.

God did you have so much work to do and you really really wanted to spend the night with Steve. And maybe if you gave in to Wanda, she’d get off your ass about your fake boyfriend? Wait, no, your secret boyfriend, because Steve was very real, you just didn’t want to be eviscerated all over the internet and tabloids for dating a king.

You’d seen what happened when a pretty actress had dated then married a prince who didn’t rule his country. The only thing you had going for you was Steve’s country was still looked at with some serious side-eye from the world, due to past events and rulers. Plus, he wasn’t a young prince that had grown up before the eyes of the world. He was a son of a tyrant, a citizen of a sizable nation the world still viewed suspiciously with a questionable human rights record.

“You’re going to love the club! It’s totally new and they open at ten. Meaning we can have plenty of time with the girls!”

Girls?

As in plural?

Because of course this would be a group event. Wanda never half-assed anything.

“Wanda…” you began.

Before Wanda could turn her attention on you, loud shrill lady screams came and you were greeted to the sight of Maria, Okoye and Pepper. All three threw up their arms and grabbed Wanda in a big hug, yanking her away from you and freeing you from her grip.

Loud girl screeches followed.

There was group hopping and hugs and laughter.

It should have made you realize that it’d been so long since you had a fun girls night. It should have reminded you that you were young and your life shouldn’t be all about work and sneaking off with your boyfriend whenever the two of you were able to.

Your heart should have been warmed by the sight of your palace coworkers who were clearly part of the aforementioned Girls.

How long had it been since you had fun?

How long had it been since you’d had a night out on the town?

What were you doing?

Were you jumping and screeching and hugging too?

No.

You were digging into your handbag so you could text Steve real quick. To let him know about your change in plans before he began to think you’d bailed because you were a coward and got cold feet.

Just as your fingers touched the smooth surface of your iPhone…

A noise caught your attention.

Movement.

Peering up to the side at the wall, or what you’d assumed was a hallway wall since you were in another hallway nearly identical to the one upstairs. All while the hugfest continued. You noticed that the wall was at a weird angle. As if it were opening up on a hinge and by the time you realized that the wall was actually an opening to a hidden passageway, a hand grabbed your elbow and yanked you in.

No more than a soft squeak came from you.

In you tumbled.

Into a dimly lit hallway that was actually a passageway you found yourself. With a metal sounding click the wall slid back into place and a big hand fell over your mouth. Making you immediately panic, immediately reach up to grab the hand that was silencing you. Making an arm band around your chest and pull you flush back against a broad muscular body.

“Did you honestly think for one moment that I would allow you to go get drunk with Wanda? Or go to a club with a man that she met for you on Tinder?”

Steve.

It was Steve.

His faint aftershave still burnt your nose but paired with the masculine scent that was him, you relaxed only a little bit, just a smidge.

How the hell did he know all of that? Had he bugged your office? Was he following you?

Deep in your chest your heart pounded wildly. Your skin was on fire. Even though it was dimly lit, you swore you could see each nail and groove in the wooden walls of the hidden passage.

Steve’s shoes were soft on the carpeted floor. Yours however never reached. Your legs dangled. Desperately you stretched out to try and reach your toes down, but alas, Steve was holding you up and was simply that much taller than you. Easily holding you up as he carried you.

His voice an angry snarl, a seething whisp against your ear. “That is so disappointing my love. A failure on both our parts,” came his angry voice. Walking with sure footing and a quick pace through the only barely lit halls.

Turning here and there, quickly and suddenly, until you were very much lost.

A protest came from behind his palm that was crushed against your mouth. Your blood heating with every passing second till it felt as if it were boiling. All that sudden fear was turning into anger at this treatment.

“I’ve clearly failed you if you’re unable to announce with nothing but the utmost certainty that you’re both in a relationship and have no desire to go out clubbing with whomever Clint from Tinder is.” The word clubbing was spat out, as if Steve found it vile on his tongue. “As for you? Yesterday we were discussing where to go for your birthday and today, you refused to answer one of my calls! You have work to do tonight to make up to me your behavior today!”

Further down the hidden passageway you were unceremoniously carried pulled to his front. Your brain racing at warp speed.

You had work to do? You had to make up for your behavior?

Had he lost his damn mind?

Had he not seen the video of his naked nether-regions all over the internet? Or the sex that made the footage a sex tape? The two of you were now amateur porn stars and he was mad that you? Because you were trying to be lowkey until the entire situation blew over? Steve was mad because you were being reasonable?

A most valiant attempt was made to free yourself.

You struggled. You kicked. You flailed and shrilled behind the hand over your mouth. No longer taken by surprise or frightened. Now you were growing angry.

On top of being terrified of being found out in that footage and ridiculed by the world, or worse, chased out of this country by a horde of angry people who didn’t agree with you being the kings choice as not only a foreigner, but one from pretty humble roots. You were upset that the world saw such an intimate moment between the two of you and even if Steve didn’t care that his junk was all over the internet, you cared. You cared a great deal. The royal junk was your junk. It was bad enough you had to know he’d dated women before you who’d seen him nude and were intimate with him, but now the world? It was simply too much for you to comprehend.

Steve slowed and turned, using his elbow he made something pop and a slight crack of light where there was obviously another hidden door in the wall appeared.

Using his broad shoulder, Steve pushed the door open and stepped out into a hallway that led down to the royal chambers and split off.

With his knee, he shoved the hidden panel shut and tightening his grip on you, Steve hurried down that hallway.

A completely different one from where the administrative offices were located.

Rich wooden paneling covered the walls. Making everything appear warmer, lusher. An amber haze hung in the air.

Thick carpet was underfoot. Furniture spoke to its age but had been made with a quality that endured. Like this palace. Built when his land was called something else but had stood through time in proof of his claim to the throne.

Generations before him had ruled, claimed spouses and lovers in these halls, grown old and made history and now it was his turn.

Merely that knowledge had him growing excited in his slacks for a second time that day. All of your thrashing and struggling didn’t help. If anything, it sparked a part of his brain that insisted he ravish and conquer you in his royal bed.

Mouth pressed to your ear, till he felt amber and diamonds press against his lips. “I swear, I will spend the rest of tonight inside of you until things are as they were yesterday. Until you remember that when I speak to you in any manner, you answer. Considering how thoroughly you’ve consumed every last part of me, it is only fair.”

And then, in his slowed pace down the hall ever closer to the door that would lead into Steve’s Royal Apartment, he saw a portrait up on the wall that made him pause.

It was him.

Or his portrait from when he’d turned thirty.

There he stood looking down at you both. Dressed ceremonially in his crown, holding the traditional ruling scepter and wearing the robes from kings of past. Fur, jeweled toned fabric that he’d easily filled out with gold adornments, amber buttons and pipping on his shoulders.

What was most striking about this portrait compared to all the others of Steven throughout the palace, was he was alone in it and unlike all the others, at the time, he’d not been single.

Further making that internal fire burn hotter.

Making him stop and force you to look up at it with him. Framed in a gilded bronze heirloom. Up where he had to look at it to be reminded of what could have been.

“Look! Look!”

You stopped struggling and looked, were well aware of his mouth against your hair.

“See? See it? You could have been there with me. At my side. Wearing my crown. Wearing the robes and jewels of my grandmothers. My queen.”

And indeed you saw.

When you’d seen the finished portrait, you had been blown away at how your body reacted to the sight of your lover in his traditional uniform he only pulled out for big special events. How powerful he looked. How sexy he was wearing a crown, holding a golden scepter with an eagle on the end clutching a piece of amber the size of an egg.

The arm around your chest fell so he could point at the empty space in the picture beside him. “Look. Right there. That is where you would have been. Right there. At my side.”

His hand over your mouth still held you flush against him. Pulled tight against him.

That thought, that entire notion of you painted on a portrait, up there with Steve at his side. It was so surreal to you.

When it was just you and Steve it was fire and gold and everything was amazing. When it was King Steve and his Chief of Staff it was stimulating and exciting. You still weren’t sure about being queen. A queen! That wasn’t like being a princess or a duchess. A queen was different. Even the word felt different.

It made your heart start to pound wildly in your chest again. It made you breathe hard against the back of his hand. It made you have a physiological reaction.

***

This was not how Carol intended to spend her night.

It was not how she wished to start her off-time. Having given Val the update on all things that had transpired for the day as she handed off command of the Royal Guard to her fellow captain.

No sooner had she told Val everything, did one of the messengers from communications come hurrying in. A slip of paper in her hand. A note that changed everything for that night, that week and even that month.

It had left Carol walking through the royal apartments towards the Queen Mother’s rooms.

As she knew exactly what King Steven was doing and quite frankly, she wanted no part in disturbing that unless she absolutely had to.

Besides. The message that had been sent to the palace via royal envoy was meant for Her Majesty. It was best Her Majesty the Queen Mother figured out how best to deal with this coming…situation.

Compared to His Majesty’s Private Rooms, Sarah’s were all light and brightness. White marble and ornate touches. Colorful priceless paintings and large bouquets of fresh flowers in crystal vases. Soft plush furniture held little personal touches. A white chenille throw draped over her couch by a fireplace. Pink slippers sat on the floor. Books both new and ancient with various markers holding her place were scattered about. Fresh flowers. She loved fresh flowers. They were everywhere.

As expected, the door to the Queen Mother’s apartments were open.

Carol still paused outside of it to knock gently.

“Your Majesty?” She called out, looking at her watch to see that it was nearing seven. Around seven was when the queen took her dinner meal privately. Of course she’d leave the door open for kitchen staff to bring up food as usual. It wasn’t one of the nights that was reserved for Steve and his mother to have their dinners together.

After the death of her husband the former king, Sarah had effectively thrown open all the doors that he had imprisoned her with.

Her soft voice drifted out.

Delicate and gentle.

The Queen Mother sat in a large chair by a big window overlooking the city. Her pale hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. A string of pearls tightened and loosened around her fingers as she lowered the book she’d been reading. A pleasant smile came over her soft features.

Upon seeing the stone of Carol’s face, the queen frowned. “What is it? What is wrong?”

Only confirming that something was wrong, Carol shut the door and locked it.

Dinner had been brought up. Smells emanated from the queens private dining room off to the left. It reminded Carol that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning. It had been that kind of a day.

Clasping her hands before her, she rocked back on her heels. “A message was sent by Her Highness Janet Van Dyne. She and her daughter will be at the palace tomorrow…”

Janet and Hope Van Dyne?

Steven’s former fiancée and her mother?

Two golden eyebrows rose, making Carol press on. “Her Highness is under the impression that they’ll be staying here? In the palace?”

All of this was new to Sarah.

She had not heard from Janet since Steve’s coronation. When she and her husband had been in attendance. Earlier that particular year, Hope had broken her engagement with Steven to run away with a Maharaja.

It’d been all over the tabloids.

A young princess of the Netherlands had broken her engagement to the crown prince of an incredibly traditional nation to follow her heart. Hope had spent many years splashed across tabloids and blogs with a handsome charismatic Asian Prince. She’d lost her royal title and gave tell-all interviews about how her family had forbade her from running away and how she’d never marry a man from infamous Rogers Royal Line. And then, oddly, she was back home with her family this year.

Sarah had found it unusual. Alas, she was a busy woman with a life of her own to keep her busy.

“Was anything else in the message,” Sarah wanted to know.

Carol shook her head.

It had been a simple message that was very to the point.

Sighing in a most un-Sarah-like sort of way. She set her book down on the arm of her chair and rose. Tall. Willowy. Pursing her lips. Her dress fell around her in a gauzy cloud.

“Do you want me to tell His Majesty?”

Pausing, the older women considered the question. Dare she tell her son? He deserved to know. Nothing good would come from this visit.

If it were Janet alone? Sarah would not be so suspicious. But Janet and Hope? And that they would come so last minute? After the release of this video footage from the royal sauna?

“Is my son with her?”

Silence.

Carol was quiet.

A noise came from the Queen Mother. A clicking of her tongue. Stepping into her slippers, she pulled the hem of her dress up. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you would keep this from me.”

More quiet came.

“I won’t ask. I’ll find out my own way and leave him be for now. Janet and Hope won’t be here tonight. This can be a problem for tomorrow, today has been difficult enough for us all. Let tomorrow be tomorrow.”

Let tomorrow be tomorrow.

On her other hand was her wedding band. A treasure itself. Now on the widow’s finger. It was so symbolic of the cage she’d lived in for the duration of her marriage.

Absentmindedly, she twisted the rings. “Have you eaten yet?” Pulling them up and down her hand. “I had hoped you would come. I had the kitchen bring up extra.” Off slipped the rings that she had to wear in public. In her hand they jingled until she set them down on a smoothly polished table.

With two heavy clicks, they bounced on the wood by a vase full of peonies. Freeing her for the time being.

“I missed you while you were away.”

A blush bloomed over her porcelain complexion at Carol’s words.

As she watched Carol lock the door to her chambers, a warmth bloomed within her chest. Such words were so simple. So honest. They were words she had not heard before in her life. In this new chapter however, in this new time in her life, she had become accustomed to kind words and compassion.

“I missed you as well.” She confessed, stepping closer and still keeping space between them. As some habits died hard. “Stay with me? Tonight?”

“There is nothing I want more, Sarah.”

***

As it turned out, now you were ready to talk.

However.

Unfortunately.

Steve was now past that point and was on a whole other page.

You found yourself protesting when he carried you into his bedroom like some manner of caveman would carry a slab of meat. Shrilling out when he yanked and ripped and tore at your dress, forcing it over your head after ripping fabric and popping buttons, till it was an unsalvageable heap of material and threads.

Which was an absolute tragedy.

You loved that dress.

You even pointed out that fact to him somewhere between the threshold of his bedroom and his massive bed that really was fit for a king.

It was so big!

A headboard wider than Wanda’s itty-bitty car was long. An elaborate collection of regal flourishes and shapes. Dark sheets so soft they were slippery awaited you as you screeched and hollered, letting out an outraged sound when your bra was popped then yanked roughly from you.

“Steven!” You admonished your king, toes digging deep into the thick carpet as you’d lost your shoes back in the hallway leading to his quarters.

This whole evening was going off the rails for you. There was no other way to put it.

Dim sconces on the wall lit the way. Highly effective mood lighting if you ever saw it. Allowing you to see the set in Steve’s face, the firm line of his mouth.

His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck so he could hold you close, ground out for your benefit. “All day long I tried. Calls. Messages. Texts. Did you want to talk? No. You ignored me. Now I do not wish to talk either.”

Pushing you forward, you found yourself stumbling but knew if you didn’t walk on your own, Steve would merely toss you up on his bed. Up on the sea of pillows. Framed by gilded silver and dark curtains that came down from above to allow for privacy.

“All day long you denied me. I’ll remind you what is mine until you’re thinking clearly again. Until we’re back where we were yesterday!”

“I’m ready to talk now! I’m in a place where I can discuss this with you! I am thinking clearly!”

Words were not needed.

Oh no.

Not when the king grabbed your hand, pulled your arm back and pressed your palm against his straining erection. Hot to the touch. Shockingly hard. Painfully so even you were willing to bet.

Your knees hit the bed and you were pushed forward till you fell over, till you wound up on the expanse of bedding in a tangle of hands and knees and that silky smooth material.

A big explosion came from Steve. Feeling like and you were flailing on your stomach, trapped beneath his oppressive weight and the bed. Fighting. Wiggling. Trying to get free from beneath him but bigger stronger arms had your wrists.

Something was being wrapped around your wrists that you couldn’t see, as your vision was impeded by the broad chest in your face. Right there. Blocking your line of sight. Pinning you down to the sea of grey until finally, finally, he was up and you were once more struggling, wiggling, jerking and finding that you were tied to the headboard.

You were tied to the headboard. You were naked and bound to his bed.

Silky fabric that was Steve’s tie bound your wrists snugly together and wove into the headboard, securing you there most soundly.

It was outrageous! It was absurd!

You were tied to his headboard!

It was a first for you.

When your gaze returned to your boyfriend and even that was now a bit questionable, you were greeted to the sight of Steve shedding his suit. Yanking off each garment without pause or care. A few tears were heard and he was far rougher than need be. A button or two may have flown off.

“You cannot be serious! That’s your plan? You’re going to take what’s yours? Are you serious? This is not the dark ages!”

Ignoring you, Steve shoved his slacks down his long legs. Allowing his rigid cock to bob obscenely. Causing an eyeroll to immediately come from you. A hint of something dark on his hip caught your eye. But it was only a flash and as he was moving, yanking off his suit jacket and fiercely ripping open buttons on his shirt, you couldn’t get a good look.

Was it a bruise? A tattoo?

Somehow you doubted kings were even allowed to have tattoos. Or that Steve even had the time to get himself permanently inked. When the hell did he get that bruise?

Momentarily distracted by him climbing up on the bed, you looked up to give your bindings a good hard yank.

No luck.

Steve’s weight was pushing you down. Shoving you into the bed. Pinning you down as you protested, implored and began to plea. Which was exactly what he wanted. After everything you had put him through today? You would beg. You would plead. You would forget all about that video.

“Open your mouth.”

It was an order.

It could be nothing less.

An absolute command that had your lips slowly parting as your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden treatment, this roughness. Steve held his painful erection in hand and pushed his tip to your lips. Pushed the red end of his cock sticky with precum past your lips. Till you were forced to open your mouth wider and wider for him. To take him deeper and deeper into your mouth.

Steve held your gaze and pushed his member in further. Straddling your chest and gripping his headboard in one hand, till it dug into his fingers. While his other hand grabbed your face to hold it tight.

You’d never be able to take all of him. He knew this. You’d never been able to no matter how much you’d tried. But he wanted to see how much he could fit in your mouth tonight.

“Don’t swallow. Don’t let me down again.”

Your mouth was so warm closing around him. Wet. Sacred. It made him want to close his eyes to sink in deep but Steve would not. He would do that soon enough. He would lose himself in your cunt soon enough.

A few small movements from his hips sank his cock deeper into your mouth. Filling your cheeks as you struggled. Until you found a motion of moving up and down his length, running your tongue along his sides. Wetting up his shaft till sloppy noises started to fill his ears and a small little dribble began to moisten the corners of your mouth.

Those blue eyes remained set on your own. Never once showing you mercy.

“Tomorrow. In the future. If I call or text, you will answer.”

There was no follow-up. Nor was it a question.

Long fingers that belonged on an artist or musician sank into your hair tightly.

All you could do was nod as drool rolled down your chin and you suckled his cock like you would a popsicle, without swallowing, sucking on his sensitive flesh as he liked and without the aid of your own hands to steady his member.

It was glorious and Steve could only slightly appreciate it. As the words that fell from his mouth were more important, more vital.

Feeling how wet your mouth was getting was fantastic. Absolutely. Your nimble tongue was a gift. No one had ever sucked his cock like you.

However…he was still frustrated, still angry, still hurt even.

He’d not worked his way through those feelings as of yet.

Perhaps? In your body?

Those feelings teased and taunted him with his unworthiness. Of how you hadn’t been firmer with your roommate. How you had allowed her to drag you down the stairs for a night out with possibly another man? It infuriated him. It sent his hips rocking into your mouth. It had his cock rubbing up along the back of your throat and made your eyes water.

No.

Steve would not lose you. He loved you too much to even entertain such a notion. No. Infact, he would make sure that he ruined you. By the end of the night, he would make certain that you’d never even amused the notion of being set up. He would be completely sure that when you left his chambers come morning, you would never be doubted when you told Wanda or anyone that you had a partner.

“I want to start publicly courting you. I want to be engaged this year. I do not want to hide any longer. When people look at you, I want them to know that you belong to me.”

Noises came around his cock that Steve knew were words and he did not care.

“Look at yourself.” Steve stilled, his words harsh, bitter even. “You have my cock in your mouth and I am completely at your mercy. Tied to the bed of kings because I cannot go one night without dreaming of you, fantasizing about your tight cunt and smooth skin. I would give you the world and all you want is nothing. You are the worst type of infuriating.”

As if to prove his point, he steadily pumped his pelvis up into your mouth. Each slide in pushed saliva and pre-ejaculate out, making it ooze from the seal of your lips around his erection. Against your throat his wet balls bounced. His ass rested on your chest and he could not get enough. More. He wanted more. He needed more. Craved more.

The urge to go harder was strong.

Steve wanted so badly to fuck you. To make you feel how much you drove him mad. How you caused him physical pain from longing alone.

With drool smeared down your chin and neck, never looking more beautiful in his opinion, Steve pulled his dick out. Done with your mouth for now. Needing more. Needing to grab your tits and to be closer to your face, looking closer into your eyes.

In a familiar sort of way, your throat bobbed.

“Did you just swallow when I specifically told you not to?”

A moment of hesitation followed from you that had Steve gripping your face, easing his body down yours but holding your slippery chin tight in his grip. Your eyes were wide. Again, probably without even realizing, you swallowed in nervousness.

“I’m…I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry what,” he demanded, leaning down closer, licking the wetness from your chin and earning from you a most satisfying shiver that wracked your body.

“S-s-sorry, Your Majesty.”

His tongue was hot and wet on your chin. His body was heavy and hot on your own. Skin on skin contact made your brain short circuit. It was a miracle you could string those syllables together. With your hands bound so snugly to the bed. All you could do was take it. Take what he gave you.

Feeling him push your thighs open and position himself between your hips made you gasp. Words failed you.

And then words didn’t even matter because he was pushing into you. Claiming you. Taking what was his because you did belong to him. You belonged to him in every possible way.

A scream exploded out of you when he dove right in. Sank in till his crown was pressed up against the wall of your cervix. Deeper than anyone had ever been before. Hands were grabbing your ankles and spreading you wide. Spearing you on his cock. Stretching your body taut.

“So wet. You were made to take me. Made to take your king.” He whispered more to himself even though you heard. You would have heard a pin drop. You could hear your heart pound and blood rush through your ears, each gasp your lungs took. You could feel every last inch of him deep inside your core. Painfully stretching you open like this. Burning. Tingling. Twisting.

Hands tightened on your ankles till you looked up at Steve. Hovering over you like a pillaging warlord about to ravish his prize.

“You have till Monday to decide how you wish us to become public. I will not wait a day longer.”

Seeing you like this before him. Splayed out. Your pussy curled around his member, plump from being filled with your breasts round puddles up on your chest. It set his hips into a frenzy. Powerful thrusts were sent into your tight walls that made Steve grunt every time from the power behind his motions, from the sight of his cock vanishing up into you. Watching your pussy take him so hungrily as you cried out beneath him each time. Breasts swaying. Skin slapping on skin with the contact. Your hips jiggled, his headboard creaked, his balls slapped soundly against you both.

“Say it. Say the words to me. Say them!” Steve commanded you. Pieces of his hair falling and sticking to his sweaty forehead as he sank in to the very depths of you then pulled out, revealing a glistening shaft before slamming his member right back in where it belonged.

“Yes…yes…yes…yes…” you chanted, over and over, again and again with every thrust in, every withdraw that was like heaven and hell, your body needing him to complete this circuit only the two of you could create. “…yes…yes…my king…yes my king…”

Those words. They were a song to his ears and had your ankles slapped together. Those words had the backs of your thighs slapped wetly against his chest, your feet touching his shoulder as Steve continued to pound into you.

Pumping into your now closed thighs, into your tighter walls at this angle.

“Look!”

Dimly your eyes fluttered, you looked into his burning blue eyes.

“Look. Here.”

You followed his gaze to where he pointed, looking down at his pelvis, where his hip met his abdomen in that hard cut of muscle that was visible above his beltline. The one you loved to lick.

He did have a tattoo.

It took you a second to realize what you were looking at and focus, as his thrusts continued without mercy, pounding away, slamming into you without mercy. Shaking and pushing you into his bed.

Your writing was inked into his skin. Your very own signature.

Your name was forever scrawled into Steve’s skin and then, it hit you. Your climax took you by complete surprise. Your entire body went stiff. A pained noise came from you and you shattered all around his cock. Fingernails dug into your palm and you stared at your name in cruel ecstasy.

Steve fell too. You could tell from his thrusts getting wild, falling out of sync. You could tell because he swore out, clenched his face and held your thighs tight to his chest.

Pumping deeply into you while your body milked him for everything he had to give.

Making him merely a man in that moment with you.

Up on his headboard, you were tightly secured and would soon have bruises from arching up against the silk tie restraining you. Unable to do anything but feel and accept what your king was giving you. On your back. In a bed that past kings had slept in.

None of which was lost on you.

Not as your body felt leaden, filled with molten hot lava. Limp. Your secret garden continued to suck him in, clench around him and spasm, making your eyes roll up in your head, your body dig into his bed and words fall from your mouth.

In a most dignified sort of manner, your king humped into your body like a jack rabbit, chasing the last vestiges of his climax with coral wet lips and dark honey hair now damp with sweat.

A sight for your satiated eyes.

“Let me call my mother in the morning.” You breathed out slowly, as if figuring out how your lungs worked once more after a marathon. Your words making Steve still above you. Though your cunt did not. It twitched around his royal girth and you met his gaze from on his pillows. “Tomorrow you can have Maria release a statement saying whatever you want. Just let me tell my parents myself. They should hear from me that I’m not coming home.”

Whatever wind that may have held up his sails had clearly been withdrawn.

Almost tenderly now, Steve leaned forward to quickly loosen the silk around your wrists and free your hands from his headboard. Stretching out his long powerful body above you. Flushed red now. Glistening. Though he left his tie there. He remained inside of you too. Filling you and stretching you full.

Gently, he pushed your legs down until they wrapped around him and he was able to rest his weight most carefully on top of you. Pressing wet kisses to your nose, your cheeks and chin. Worshipping your face with delicate touches and caresses.

“I’ll fly them out here whenever you want. When we get back from Switzerland, I’ll have them waiting for you.”

Softly you answered, reveling in his softness now that your body had been given her reward, her treat, her pleasure from his roughness. Smelling the musk of his sweat and feeling the wet glide between your bodies.

Leisurely, your hands found their way up his muscular arms to his shoulders. “You know what I mean. I won’t ever be their daughter again. I won’t ever be Wanda’s roommate. I’ll have to quit my job. Nothing will ever be the same.”

Those words, well, they settled uncomfortably in him.

All of them were true.

You would be giving up so much. He would have to make sure to take care of you even more so, keep a closer eye on you. He would need to have a talk with his mother come morning.

“That’s true,” Steve softly conceded, rubbing his nose along your own. Barely grazing his lips over yours. A hint of a tongue touched you before his breath danced over your mouth. “We would be together though. Finally together. You. Me. Not hiding anymore.”

Speaking of hiding.

That word alone had you pulling away from his mouth to lean to the side, to get a look down at his Adonis belt. At the alluring groove that led down to his pubes where your name was now in black.

Nay, your signature.

As if sensing what you were after, your boyfriend tilted up a smidge. Enough for you to see but not enough for him to leave your body. Pray tell that couldn’t happen.

“When did you do this?”

“Do you like it,” Steve asked, as if your opinion mattered. Which was laughable considering how permanent it was.

He’d literally took your signature and had it tattooed on his body.

“Of course I love it. Now you have a part of me on you all the time.” An incredibly modern take on Steve’s royal jewel gift thing, but in reverse you thought. Then grinned as it sank in. “I can’t believe you did it though.”

Why wouldn’t he have done it?

Steve hadn’t thought twice when Maria had gone on about getting her late mother’s writing tattooed on her side, in a lasting forever tribute. Having your writing on him at all times had been an idea that hadn’t left him. Not until he’d had a tattoo artist praised for their work brought to the palace late the other night.

He wasn’t even going to lie, king or not, there was something downright satisfying about having something like this hidden on his body from all. Known only by you and him. A secret only for you two.

Bringing him right back to the thought that the biggest secret the two of you shared would soon be out.

Soon it would be public knowledge and that had Steve brushing his fingertips over your cheeks, kissing the swell of your cheekbone and moving ever just so to make a small moan come from you. “You’ll never regret this. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. I’ll devote myself to making you happy. You’ll never regret becoming my queen.”

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers

[kokororyuu]

once more [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: it was impossible. he would never see you again, levi thought, but perhaps he had jinxed himself. though he didn’t regret a single thing.

warnings ⚠️: angst, major character death(s), manga SPOILERS, (brief) suicidal thoughts, brief description of gore

word count: 2k

author’s note: i think this is one of my best works yet, like i literally LOVE love this one :>>, i think the only part i was kinda “ehhh” about was the part where [eradicated] dies because i cannOT write gore </3, but either way, have fun reading, bubs!!

PART ONE: miles apart

he missed you.

god, he missed you so much.

he still remembered your touch, your smile, your words, no matter how irritating they’d get when they interfered with work, but he couldn’t even blame you for being on his mind. after all, it was him who was attracted to you.

and in your last moments, you had whispered the same to him.

you were so addictive, like the tea he served himself daily. not too bitter, not too sweet, a perfect mix of flavors that seemed to wash away his unspoken confessions on the tip of his tongue every time he took another sip, leaving a bitter aftertaste and unsettled emotions.

levi couldn’t stay still in his office, burying himself in paperwork only to change his mind and toss his quill down with a sigh. he drew back the curtain in his office to stare blankly at the moon, now full as it had been that day; bright, blue, and breathtakingly beautiful. he scoffed at himself, he couldn’t believe he had caught himself gawking at the moon, its light casting shadows that danced around his room with the swishing curtains.

he just wanted to see you once more.

not mangled and broken, bleeding out beside him outside the walls, but with that familiar smile of yours that shone brighter than the stars, the sun, and held warmth that levi craved so badly.

the thought lingered for a second as he continued to gaze at the moon before he shook his head, how foolish of me, to think he would be able to see you again. his fingers traced the windowsill as he stayed deep in thought, maybe in another life, he mused before pulling out a book hange gave him from one of the drawers on his desk, lighting a lamp and beginning to read where he had previously left off…

“then i defy you, stars!”

levi didn’t know how he ended up in this position.

having fought over a dozen of titans, most abnormal, on his own after all of the cadets he had taken with him died, it wasn’t a surprise that he couldn’t avoid the quick swing of the titan on his left as he tried to dig his last pair of blades, now dull, into another titan’s nape.

he would’ve gotten up, could’ve gotten up, but he had sustained severe injuries earlier from trying to save the other cadets as well as save himself.

this was bad, really bad,

or maybe it wasn’t.

levi didn’t have the choice to decide, his limbs numb from the abuse and gaze hazy as he eyed the titan’s unusual gait, its figure stomping closer and closer. a heavy breath pushed past his lips as he used the last of his adrenaline rush to hook his odm gear into a nearby tree, swinging up onto a high branch and propping himself against it.

he wheezed, oxygen exiting his lungs and leaving him completely and utterly breathless from the exertion, but he figured that if he was up here, he at least wouldn’t die from the jaws of those horrid beasts and by this antagonizing blood loss instead.

blood seeped out from his wounds slowly and dyed his tattered uniform red, and with the silence and his vision fading in and out, he found himself thinking back to just a few months prior, his gaze latched onto the moon that peeked through the trees.

he wondered if he’d look like how you did that day, lifeless, cold, empty, soulless. he hoped your death wasn’t as painful as this, because no matter how numb the winter that nipped at his skin made him feel, there was still the hot searing pain spreading from the gaping wound on his side.

did you go through this much pain? did you suffer?

if it weren’t from the injuries, was it from his ignorance and blatant refusal to spare just a glance at you before you passed?

death was never a scary thing to levi, at least, not his own. he imagined times where it might’ve been better to just end it all. less suffering, less pain, no more losing loved ones. he hoped you felt the same when you died, that you left without regrets after your whispered-out words of confession.

once more,

he laughed, though it sounded more like a gurgle with all the blood pushing past his lips with every slowing rise and fall of his chest. he guessed it was about time his wish came true.

and then everything went black, and levi was swallowed up by oh-so-sweet embrace of the afterlife.

“levi?” a familiar voice called out in both confusion and surprise. “i wasn’t expecting you here this soon,”

he opened his eyes faster than he should’ve, immediately squinting at how bright it was, wherever he was. he wasn’t on a tree branch bleeding out anymore, instead, he was laying on soil, the dirt soft under his fingertips. the sky was bright and blue, a contrast to the dark sky of night that was only lit by the lonesome moon a second ago.

and most importantly, there was erwin, commander erwin, crouching down by his side with a look of mirth. levi’s gaze flickered around the area, eyeing cadets he remembered from years ago up and about, laughing and conversing with one another.

what is this, some type of heaven? he doubted that was what this was with all the death he had brought upon humanity, but he was sure this was some type of afterlife. erwin let out a soft chuckle at levi’s bewildered glare that demanded answers to silent questions.

“i know you have inquiries, but it’d be best to save them for later. i’m sure there’s people who’d like to see you first,” he stood to his feet and reached out a hand toward the other, him hesitantly grabbing onto it and pulling himself up from the ground. levi let himself be led to a circle of people chatting amongst themselves with bright smiles.

they welcomed him with open arms, poking fun at his arrival and calling him, “a newbie to the afterlife,” with his rapid fire questioning and quick glances around the open field.

“you’re looking for them, aren’t you, captain?” a former scout called out and teased.

levi couldn’t deny the obviously true accusation, scowling and crossing his arms as a defense mechanism, “zip it, cadet. afterlife or not, i can still beat your ass,” a few giggles and laughs erupted from the group while some sheepishly tried to cover them up with coughs and clearing their throats.

it was true, he was looking for you. he had hoped you would’ve been the first person he saw, but you were nowhere to be found. an anxious feeling gnawed at him and thoughts filled with doubt swirled in his chest.

did you not want to see him?

you probably didn’t, especially after what he had done.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

the words stained his conscience red.

“i'm leaving,” levi turned on his heels and began walking without waiting for a response. erwin rose a brow at his murmur but nodded nonetheless, bidding him goodbye.

the skies were so blue, littered with white clouds that levi felt he could touch if he so wished to with just a raise of his hand. there was no sun, surprisingly enough

with how bright the afterlife was, and he was thankful for this. no sun meant no heat, no hot days that needed to be fought through or sweaty palms and heavily drawn breaths.

however, no sun meant no moon.

it was strange to not have nighttime anymore, no more stars to gaze at as he thought to himself and let those thoughts consume him. did they sleep? levi swept the area with his eyes and didn’t see a single room or bed. he wasn’t going to get used to this anytime soon, though he was thankful for how he strangely felt energized, or at least not drained from his insomnia like he usually was.

nevermind that, levi shook his head before scanning the area once more, where were you? he felt like his feet had been bringing him in circles—had he seen that cadet already? had this person already greeted him?—perhaps he was just lost at this point, in a crowd of people he knew or never seen before, but out of everyone there, there wasn’t a single sign of you.

he noticeably slumped, maybe he’d never see you again like he had prepared himself for. he didn’t deserve it after all.

but oh, did he miss you.

levi squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment and sighed, a furrow in his brow as he tried to settle the sudden drop of disappointment that settled in his stomach.

he just wanted to see you once more.

“levi!”

the man nearly tripped over his own feet at the voice that called for him. levi felt his heart soar, his skin buzz in anxiety, anticipation, hope.

he turns and—

it’s you.

you were running toward him from across the field filled with numerous scouts, weaving through the bustling crowd with that grin of yours, and your eyes, his light, twinkling so brightly at him.

you were coming closer and closer, and if levi just reached his arm out he could—

wait, his arm froze midair, his foot catching on the ground as he paused before your open arms.

he was scared.

in your last moments, he had completely ignored you, had watched you leave the world as you confessed your love with your last dying breath. maybe you wouldn’t want to see him, to hear his pathetic excuses and apologies, but alas, you proved him wrong, surging forward in the second of hesitation and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

levi tensed up, his arms hovering in the air like an idiot before he heard you murmur, “just relax, levi,”

and with those few words, levi felt every single tension in his body leave within seconds, his hands coming up to grip onto the back of your shirt as if begging you not to leave him, again.

though the whole situation felt so surreal, and he felt if he didn’t hug you tight enough, you’d slip through his fingertips, never to be seen again.

you were real, levi came to this revelation when he buried his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, your heartbeat thumping as wildly as his as the two of you embraced.

“hi again, levi,” you brushed a hand through his ebony black hair with a breathless laugh.

“hello, my light,” levi whispered softly, sending a tickling breath to your neck, though he was pretty sure you heard if the little squeeze you gave around his shoulders were any indicator. you pulled away to rest your forehead against his, his eyes twinkling with such adoration, god, it was like you could see the stars.

“you know...” he murmured, his eyes closing and hiding their galaxies. levi felt his heartbeat pick up, and his hands trembled as they squeezed at your waist.

you were patient, tracing soothing patterns into his nape as you tugged him just a little closer, your lips brushing against his ever so slightly and sending a sweet chill down his spine. he almost became distracted from his original goal, his lips mindlessly chasing yours but stopping at the little tug you gave his head of hair. “go on, levi,”

god, had he missed the way you said his name. it sounded so perfect, and with your soft encouragement, levi drew in another shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “the moon was always beautiful,”

explanations:

“i defy you, stars!”

this is a quote from shakespeare’s “romeo and juliet” !!! i interpret it as levi going against fate to be with you again :>

“the moon was always beautiful,”

this is a connection to “miles apart.” he’s basically saying that he has always loved you :D

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi aot #aot #aot imagines #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x you #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #major character death #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk fanfiction #snk #levi ackerman

[moonbeamwritings]

train station kisses

a sequel to one missed call

Summary: After receiving a phone call from Jotaro after ten years of no contact, you attempt to navigate both your feelings and his. Will a reunion around the holidays be just what you both needed?

Author’s Note: I just wanted to say thank you for all of the positive reactions to one missed call! It really means a lot 🥺💕I hope you guys enjoy the sequel just as much!!

With a shaking hand, you reached out to dial his number, taking each digit slowly as a way to delay the inevitable. The line began to ring and you could almost feel your mouth running dry, the thudding of your heart threatening to burst your chest open. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to keep the water in your eyes from spilling over.

After four rings, you could hear Jotaro answer, “Hello?”

The ringing in your ears, the pounding in your heart, they didn’t stop with the sound of his voice.

“Uh hi, Jotaro? It’s me.”

A relieved exhale could be heard through the phone, followed by a brief moment of silence, “Hi.” If his breath had sounded relieved, then his voice sounded even more so. “I thought you wouldn’t call.”

You brought the phone with you as you traveled across the living room, resting back against the couch. “If I’m being honest, I almost didn’t.”

As much as he had convinced himself that he didn’t deserve a call back, Jotaro’s heart sunk into his stomach with the thought that you very nearly didn’t return his message, keeping him nothing but a distant, painful memory.

“Well,” he finally spoke, fidgeting with the pen resting on his desk, “I’m glad you did.”

You let out a nervous huff, quiet and short, “Yeah, me too.”

Silence overtook the conversation once again, entirely too awkward for your liking. Where were you even supposed to start? The man on the other end had confessed his love to you, through a long, emotional message on your answering machine no less, and now you were confronting him after not hearing from him in literal years. What were you supposed to do?

“Jotaro I-”

“Listen-”

You chuckled as you both attempted to speak at the same time.

“You go-”

“You first-”

You could hear his deep, quiet laugh through the phone.

“We’re off to a great start.” You told him, running a hand through your hair.

“We certainly are.”

“Look, Jotaro,” you struggle to find the right words, “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I wasn’t hurt that I didn’t hear from you, from anyone.”

A low “mhm” sounded through the phone as you collected yourself.

“But, Christ, is it nice to hear your voice.”

“It’s nice to hear yours too.”

“What were you going to say before?” You asked, pressing the phone between your shoulder and cheek so you could pick at your nails.

“I just wanted to tell you that I meant everything I said. All of it.”

The familiar, erratic beat of your heart returned in an instant as his confession replayed in your head.

The words spilled from your mouth before you can even think to stop them, “You love me?” 

You nearly smacked a hand against your forehead with how stupid, how desperate you sounded. Were you really hearing this right now?

“I do. I figured it was better late than never to tell you, even if it was over the phone. The old man was very convincing.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he spoke of his grandfather, clearly not thrilled with his relative’s persistence.

“I-” A shaky breath left your mouth, “I love you too. I always have.”

Jotaro didn’t respond right away. How could he? You’d just told him you love him, even after all of this time, even after he’d left you alone, in the dark. After all of it.

“I miss you.” He knew he sounded pathetic, heart on display for you to hear, but he didn’t care. Jotaro also knew he wasn’t anywhere near as openly emotional as he thought you deserved, but he wanted to be selfish, if only this once, wanted to sink his hands into your heart and never let go. He wouldn’t let you be alone again, not if he could help it.

At his confession, tears pricked at the back of your eyes, stinging as they threatened to fall.

“I miss you too, Jotaro.”

The words hung heavily in the air, years of pent up emotions all laid out for you both to see. You had no idea where to go from here. The previous phone call played through your mind as you searched for the right words. One statement came to the forefront: “You reminded me of everything I felt like I couldn’t have, what I can’t have.”

“Jotaro? Can I ask you something?”

“If you want.”

“Before, you said something about me being something you couldn’t have. What exactly did you mean?”

You heard him sigh into the receiver, sounding dejected as he spoke, “Everyone in my life either leaves or gets hurt, or both. I push people away to keep them out of my bullshit, so they don’t get hurt. I’m not easy to love. You don’t deserve to get wrapped up in the mess I always leave behind.”

Your heart broke.

“Jotaro, you…” A laugh, involuntary and riddled with disbelief, left your throat. “You really are something else, you know that? I’ve already been to Egypt with you, for God’s sake, risked my life for your mom, to defeat DIO. I think you’re kinda stuck with me now. Messes or not.”

His voice was uncharacteristically small as he responded, “You mean that?”

You scoffed. “Of course I do. God, you are such an idiot sometimes. You’re lucky I love you.”

He allowed a tiny smile to work its way onto his face, “Yeah, I am.”

“Ohhh, Jotaro,” you teased, getting a real kick out of Jotaro revealing what was going on in that steel-trap he calls a brain, “I didn’t take you for the cheesy type.”

A groan.

“Good freakin’ grief. I take it back, I don’t miss you anymore.”

“Oh come on. You do. You can admit it.”

The moment of humor was a welcomed break from the downpour of emotions that threatened to flood your mind, a calming reminder of what once was.

“Okay,” Jotaro acquiesced, for once not having the strength to win this fight, “you’re right.”

You ached to see the look on his face on the other side of the phone. You had no doubt his eyebrows were creased in annoyance, a smile reluctantly beginning to form on his lips. What you wouldn’t give to be able to reach over, to poke and prod at his cheeks, to tease and annoy him.

“Ugh, you’re so cute,” you tell him, “What am I ever gonna do with you?”

Cute, Jotaro thought, I’ve never heard that one before.

“Look, enough already I-” Why did you have to make his words catch in his throat so much? It was infuriating. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to meet up. I know it’s the holidays and everything but-”

You cut his rambling off with an immediate answer, “I would love to.”

“Wha- You would?” He hadn’t expected you to agree so quickly, or even at all.

The surprised lilt to his voice is not lost on you. You don’t push it. “Of course, I would.”

“In that case,” he spoke, absently tapping the pen against his desk, “I’ll have the Speedwagon Foundation pay for your travel expenses and you can come visit with my family and I for a few days.”

“Jotaro,” You admonished, “I don’t want to intrude! If you’re spending time with family, we can always wait.”

“I’ve kept you waiting long enough and besides,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “mom would love to cook for someone new.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how could I say no?”

The conversation continued from there, Jotaro telling you he would pass along the information from the Speedwagon Foundation. You spent some time getting caught up, passing information back and forth until Jotaro let out a long, drawn out yawn.

“It’s getting late. I should go.” Jotaro stated, sounding reluctant.

“That’s okay. Goodnight, Jotaro. I’ll see you soon.”

“Night, see you.”

With one final click, the line went dead, sending you reeling back into the quiet hum of your living room. You nearly laughed out loud at the events unfolding before you. The last thing you had expected this holiday season was to go visit Jotaro, all expenses paid.

Before you knew it, you were switching over from the plane to the train that would take you to the station near Jotaro’s childhood home. Even given the time you took to attempt to process all of these new developments, your mind still raced, endlessly whirling and wondering. Jotaro loved you and you were visiting him. He loved you and you were going to get to see him again. It was all relentlessly surreal.

As you boarded the train for the remainder of your journey, you couldn’t help but reflect on that fateful trip to Egypt. Memories flashed behind your eyes, coming and going with the scenery passing you by. Kakyoin’s goofy laugh, Polnareff’s friendly disposition, Avdol’s kind words. Your heart clenched at the thought.

Perhaps your reunion, love confessions aside, could help you process what you’d been dealing with for so long. Maybe it could help you move on, move away from reliving the trauma of those weeks abroad. Just maybe.

Pushing the thoughts from your mind, the voice over the loudspeaker alerted you that you had arrived at the station where you would meet Jotaro. Your heart thudded nervously in your chest, seemingly stealing the air from your lungs.

You grabbed your belongings and stepped out onto the platform, eyes scanning the crowd for Jotaro. He was always so tall, you thought, this should be easy.

At the same time, Jotaro entered the station, hands tucked into his pockets to disguise their slight tremor. He had never felt so nervous in his life, this situation being such uncharted territory that he almost wished he could have Star Platinum fight the feelings off for him. He pulled his hat down to cover the rosiness traveling up his neck.

His eyes scanned the crowd, landing on you across the station. You caught his gaze almost immediately, a small smile overtaking the concerned downturn of your lips. You were here, finally.

You weaved through the crowd as you locked eyes with Jotaro, carefully dragging your suitcase behind you as you moved among the throngs of people. As you reached the other side of the station, you stopped dead in your tracks, staring up at Jotaro.

It was as if a massive weight was lifted from your shoulders, like you had finally let out a sigh of relief after a long day. You wanted to live with this feeling forever.

“Hi.” You finally let out, moving to close the gap between the two of you at long last.

Without even responding, Jotaro bent down to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting your feet off the ground and clutching you against his chest. You smiled as you felt him bury his nose against your neck.

You wrapped your own arms around his neck, one hand resting against the back of his head.

“You’re here.” His voice was muffled by your shirt, but you could hear him clear as day.

“I’m here.”

You remained like that for who knows how long, embracing one another like touch-starved fools, so lost in each other that you didn’t even register the stares from passersby.

After some time, Jotaro took his face away from your neck, returning your feet to the ground. Both hands were quick to cradle your cheeks, looking you over carefully with a cute upturn of his lips.

It was all so uncharacteristically soft that you almost felt as though he was a different person.

He hunched down, bringing his lips to yours in an emotional kiss. His lips moved against yours like a man starved, hand moving to feel your hair between his fingers. As he broke away to catch his breath, he pressed his forehead against your own.

“I love you, he spoke like it was a secret, something so important it was for your ears only, “so much.”

“I love you too, Jotaro.”

He kissed you again, a brief peck to your lips as if to seal your quiet promise, to legitimize it.

Before you could even stop them, tears began flowing down your cheeks only to be swiped away by Jotaro’s thumb.

“Oh, good grief,” he said, but it was nowhere near as biting as it could’ve been, “don’t cry.”

You chuckled at his assertion. This was the Jotaro you knew and loved. “Sorry.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, hand reaching up to ruffle the hair there.

“Come on, mom’s making dinner.”

He grabbed your suitcase and turned to head towards the door, leaving you in the dust. Typical.

When you fell into step beside him, you laced your fingers with his, running your thumb along the back of his hand.

God, you could get used to this.

#jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo imagine #jotaro x reader #jotaro imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #soft jotaro is the best jotaro

[ggyutea]

into the aether // jjk [CHAPTER ONE]

pairing: agent!jungkook x agent!reader

genre: not-so-secret organization au, rivals to lovers au, sci-fi, action, slow burn, mutual pining, future mystery 👀, eventual fluff, eventual smut (probably), teeny bit of future angst

word count: 4.4k

summary: As a rookie member of an organization that deals in investigating and neutralizing paranormal and extraterrestrial threats, you get assigned to your very first case with Jeon Jungkook as your partner, a former classmate you’ve never been too fond of.  But what happens when your supposed low-tier rookie case begins to unravel into something more serious than anyone anticipated?  And, more importantly, how do you come to terms with your growing feelings for Jungkook?

contents: jungkook being a little shit, y/n is a bisexual disaster, the tension is real honestly, female!namjoon, long haired Kook, mild info-dumping for context

warnings: mild cursing

a/n: behold, my first posted fic! i have absolutely no idea how long this series will be but i’m super excited about it!!  i hope anyone who happens to come across this enjoys it :))

previous || masterlist || next

The agency-issued suit is surprisingly comfortable.  Form-fitting without being tight, the dress slacks and jacket cling softly to your body as you adjust your badge before entering your new workplace.  Taking a deep breath as you push open the double doors of the Aether Headquarters, you are greeted by the sight of many bustling individuals, all dressed in suits identical to the one currently adorning your body.  A potent mix of excitement and nerves light up your veins as you take in the sight, the moment almost surreal.  

Your heels click across the linoleum floor as you begin to make your way through the massive atrium to the semi-circular elevator.  You check and double check your badge for your assignment details, noting in relief when you realize that you haven’t already forgotten them.  Floor 7, Division S01.  Floor 7, Division S01, you repeat over and over again, a mantra of sorts.  Beginning at a brisk pace, you inevitably slow as you take in the sights of the cavernous space.  Massive glass windows stretch high towards the ceiling on every wall, letting in beams of early morning sunlight that cast a warm glow over everything they touch.  Two large LED screens are affixed on either side of the main elevator across the way, one showcasing a map of the city, the other a map of the country, with all of the paranormal and extraterrestrial hotspots highlighted in bright red pulsing circles.   A small cafe sits nestled in a corner to your left, baristas rushing around frantically in the midst of the morning rush.  A circular desk occupies the center of the room, currently manned by two individuals as they supervise the row of turnstile doors on either side.  Agents stand lined up in front of the doors, some impatiently checking their watches as they wait for the people in front of them to swipe in, others leisurely sipping their coffee.  

You’re reminded that in your haste this morning, you forgot to make yourself coffee, so before you join the agents at the doors, you cheerily purchase your own steaming cup of liquid energy.  You’re not sure if you really need it, with all of the adrenaline rushing through your system, but you figure it can’t hurt.  Sure enough, the warmth of the drink floods your body with a sense of ease, and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your face as you swipe your badge, watching the light on the console turn green as an automated voice says, “Welcome, Agent Y/n.”  Continuing your path towards the elevator, you note with glee an approaching directory indicating that the library and research facilities are to your right, with the short-term containment facilities lying to your left.  Of course, you have learned about all of this in your four years of training, but learning about the immensity of the resources available in the Aether Headquarters and actually seeing them and experiencing them are two completely different things.  You make a mental note to check out the library before the day is over as you enter an elevator car with several other agents.

The electricity in your veins feels nearly tangible as you ascend to your dream.  You note with an amused quirk of your lips that your internal energy seems a stark contrast to the yawns and sleepy gazes of the rest of the elevator.  The 7th floor arrives in the blink of an eye, and you excuse yourself as you weave past a couple agents to exit the car.  After a short navigation of the floor thanks to the clearly labeled and numbered signs, you finally approach the door to your division.  Pronounced in bold, simple characters, the division code ‘S01’ stares at you from the door as you regard it, a slight lump forming in your throat as you take one last sip of your coffee.  Thoughts fly through your head as you go through your mental checklist.  Supervisor = Agent Kim Namjoo.  Your hand is on the shiny chrome door handle.  Mixed division.  You’re turning it slowly.  Potential for other recent graduates to be working here.  Before you know it, the door is swinging open and-- “Ah!”  You’re suddenly met with the startled yelp of a young woman, causing you to flinch as it snaps you out of your reverie.  

The woman chuckles as she brings a hand to adjust her glasses, face quickly smoothing into a sweetly dimpled smile as she looks at you.  “I am so sorry,” she begins upon seeing your startled expression, “you caught me totally off guard.”  She laughs lightly.  “I don’t believe we’ve met!  You must be Agent Y/n.  I’m your supervisor, Agent Kim.”  She extends her hand to you as you blush, blurting out an apology before reaching out your own hand.  “Sorry we couldn’t have met under more formal circumstances, but it’s really no problem as my office is right here anyway,” she explains, gesturing to a door to her right.  

“Nice to meet you, Agent Kim!  I’m really very excited to be here,” you let out a soft chuckle as you begin to regain your composure.  Agent Kim flashes you another gorgeous smile that puts you immediately at ease.  

“I’m so happy to hear that, Agent.  If you wouldn’t mind following me into my office?”  She begins making her way towards her office door.  You quickly oblige, stepping into your supervisor’s spacious office.  Agent Kim takes a seat promptly behind her desk, motioning for you to have a seat across from her.  

“Hold on just one second.”  Your supervisor begins typing away at the keyboard of one of her two computers and you take the brief moment to admire the immaculately trimmed bonsai tree perched next to her.  However, your gaze quickly turns back to your supervisor as you can’t help but acknowledge how absolutely gorgeous she is.  Her skin has all the warmth of the first golden hues of a sunrise.  Brunette hair tied back elegantly, a few strands escape to frame the elegant slope of her face.  Her jawline is pronounced without being too sharp, culminating in the graceful point of her chin.  You flush slightly at your thoughts, mentally scolding yourself.  Great.  First day of work and you’re already simping over your boss.  It’s not your fault you’ve had such a wonderful first impression of her.  Everything about her presence immediately calms your racing heart and soothes any apprehensive thoughts that had crossed your mind on your journey into S01.

“Alright,” Agent Kim removes something from a desk drawer before setting it on the desktop and turning her attention towards you.  “First and foremost, welcome to Division S01!  Like I said, I’m your supervisor, Agent Kim.  This is a mixed division, which I’m sure you’re already aware of as it seems you specifically requested it.”  

You nod.  In the Aether, there are generally three types of divisions that field agents work in.  Each is composed of agents of all levels, from rookies like yourself to seasoned veterans.  Some divisions are dedicated entirely to the more peaceful reports from around the city that are generally non-violent and consist of relatively minor disturbances.  Nothing too serious, but due to their nature, these divisions see a lot of cases on the daily.  In your time at the Academy, you’d interned on a few of these types of cases, one of them involving the containment of an alien squid horde that was interfering with the local fishing economy.  Other divisions deal with the more intense, higher-magnitude cases.  Often violent, these investigations require collaboration from multiple agents throughout the division as they look into paranormal serial murder, shape-shifting extraterrestrial identity theft, and the like.  Divisions like yours, S01, are a hybrid.  They get the best of both worlds and are well suited for agents who are capable of handling everything across the board, and, more importantly, for agents who want to take on that kind of responsibility.  Since you graduated at such a high class rank at the Academy, you had no problem securing a spot in a mixed division such as this one.

“Now,” your supervisor picks up the item she had previously pulled from her desk.  “This is your tablet.”  She slides the device over to you.  “All of your assignments and case files will be sent to you through this, and you’ll have access to a limited virtual library via our digital databases if you find yourself needing that kind of resource.  Of course, you’ll use your agency-issued ID to login and it’ll give you full access!”  She beams as you hold the tablet in your hands.  “Your first assignment has already been sent to you, it looks like…” she trails off, turning to glance at her computer monitor.  Your heart starts picking up again.  You are literally holding your very first professional case in your hands!  

“Do you know what level it is, or who I’ll be working with?”  You can’t help the questions that bubble from your mouth.  Agent Kim shakes her head.

“Unfortunately, that information comes from higher up, so until you open the file yourself I have no way of knowing the details of your field assignment,” she says with a shrug.  Your stomach twists in anticipation, and you’re tempted to unlock your tablet and read through the entire assignment right then and there.

“Alright,” you say with a tentative smile.  Agent Kim returns your expression.

“Now, do you have any questions before I show you to your office?”  Her eyebrows lift as she looks at you expectantly.  “Don’t be timid, I know I had plenty of questions when I became an official agent, but I have found that the Academy really does a spectacular job preparing agents for the field.”

“I do have a question, actually.”  Agent Kim’s face immediately brightens.  “Are there any other recent Academy grads other than myself assigned to this division?”  You’re already aware that your closest friends from the Academy, Yubin and Jeongin, are stationed in different divisions, but you’re dying to know if anyone you recognize from your class at the Academy are in S01.  

“Ah, yes.  I figured you’d ask eventually.  Agent Jeong Jaehyun has been here for about a week now, and Agent Jeon Jungkook started yesterday morning.  They were both listed as having graduated with your class.”

You stiffen as soon as the name ‘Jeon Jungkook’ leaves her mouth.  You aren’t very familiar with Jaehyun, but Jungkook…  That’s a name you’ll never forget.  Top of your class at the Academy, teacher’s pet, fuckboy, irritatingly pretty Jungkook.

“Oh!” you squeeze out through gritted teeth and a tense jaw.  “Good to know!  Thank you, Agent Kim.”

“Of course,” she replies with her warm smile that almost eases the growing knot in your stomach.  “Would you care to see your office now?”

Your office isn’t huge, but it’s certainly functional.  A large sleek metal desk occupies the bulk of the room, with an equally sleek office chair to match.  You silently hope that it swivels.  Apart from the desk and chair, a filing cabinet stands tall in the corner, in addition to a floor lamp.  Another lamp sits perched on your desk beside two computer monitors and a telephone.  A screen nearly identical to, albeit smaller than, the ones mounted in the atrium sits above your desk, the blue and red graphics of your city adding a touch of color not unwelcome in the otherwise very neutral room.  Immediately, you begin considering ways to add your own personal touch to your workspace, inspired by Agent Kim’s bonsai tree.

Agent Kim explains the presence of dual computers, indicating that one is strictly for classified research purposes and details regarding any cases the agency might want to keep more under wraps than others, so to speak.  “The screen,” she adds, gesturing to the wall, “can be used for any video conferences, calls, and the like within the Headquarters and nationwide, as well as providing the same information as the screens--I’m sure you noticed them--in the atrium.”

You nod as she continues to talk, all the while setting your bag on your desk and beginning to unpack your few personal belongings, including your diploma from the Academy.

“I suppose that’s about all you need to know about your office for the time being,” Agent Kim says after reinforcing that your agency ID will be your key to accessing your electronics.  “Go ahead and start getting yourself settled, Agent Y/n.  Agents Kang and Choi should be in the offices directly adjacent to you…” she trails off, seemingly trying to recall if those are the correct agents.  “Anyway,” she claps her hands together, “If you have any questions, well, you know where to find me!  Let me know if you need anything at all.  I mean it.”  Agent Kim once again gives you that calming smile.  Her smile brings you a type of comfort you can’t quite explain, and you honestly couldn’t be happier with your supervisor so far.  She’s warm and inviting, intelligent, beautiful, with an air about her that simply exudes leadership and command.  

“Thank you, Agent Kim,” you match her smile.

With an amiable wave, she heads out.  Your thoughts very quickly turn back to your assignment, and you scramble to sit at your office chair, which does in fact swivel, much to your delight, agency tablet grasped tightly in your hands.  Questions race through your mind at the sight of the black mirrored surface, knowing what lies behind the locked screen.  You figure the case will probably be something low-profile, as you are brand-new, but you really hope that it’s something more advanced  You did graduate close to the top of your class... which brings your mind back to Jeon Jungkook.  He had the honors of graduating first, and you’ll never forget that fact.  You wonder what he’s been assigned, if it’s a more advanced case than is typical for rookie agents.  You probably don’t want to know, however; it’ll only make you more upset if your assignment is comparatively mundane.  At least you can rest in peace knowing that as a newbie, you’ll probably be paired with a more senior officer, and, with all of the agents who work in this division, the odds of running into Jungkook on a case are relatively slim.  You hoped that after you graduated you’d never have to cross paths again, but alas, here you are.  You sigh and run your fingers through your hair before focusing your attention back on the excitement of being here, your future literally in your hands.  The closest you’ve ever been.

Finally unlocking the tablet, you’re greeted by a relatively simple interface that allows you to very easily navigate to your newly received assignment.  The small folder icon sits amidst a sea of other completely unassuming icons, the tiny graphic completely unaware about the significance of its appearance to you.  You open the file, trying to empty your mind of any expectations, and then… your heart sinks.  At the very top of the document, next to your own, who else’s name do you see but Jeon Jungkook.  Well, fuck.

You spend the better part of the next hour contemplating whether you should read the file by yourself or get your shit together and go track down Jungkook’s office so you can go over it together.  Eventually, you settle for a quick skim, though the words barely stick in your mind as you find yourself somewhat preoccupied with thoughts about your partner.  How are you supposed to work with him?  You certainly don’t hate him, but you’ve always had your disagreements.  And you’ll never forgive him for taking your spot in the class, not to mention breaking your best friend’s heart.  

After absorbing as much information as your distracted mind can handle, which consists of a jumbled mass of something about a flower shop and floating objects, your rational professional brain gets the best of you, and you head to your supervisor’s office to inquire about the location of Jungkook’s--Agent Jeon’s--office.  You have a job to do, and as much as you’re dreading facing Jungkook, you’ll get the job done, and you’ll get it done well.  Just as you always have.  And though you can’t stand Jungkook, he’s not useless.

You approach the doorway to Jungkook’s office, finding the door already ajar, before stopping to lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms with your tablet clasped in one hand.  Jungkook is currently intently focused on one of his computer screens, face tense in concentration, chewing lightly on his lower lip.  Tie hanging loose around his neck, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, jacket foregone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows with his long slightly wavy hair dangling in his eyes… yep.  That’s Jungkook.  You clear your throat and give a small knock on the threshold.  Jungkook immediately shoots up.  “Y/n!” He exclaims, eyebrows lifted, a goofy smile toying on his face.  You resist the urge to roll your eyes.  “Sorry,�� he clears his throat, “I mean- Agent Y/N,” he says, face growing serious as he emphasizes ‘Agent’.  “So,” he folds his hands dramatically on top of his desk.  “What can I do for you?”  You enter the room at last, mouth pursed in a firm line. “Agent Jeon,” you begin, taking a seat across from him.  “It appears as though we have been paired together for our first assignment.”  

“Oh, that’s right!  I saw that. I already read the whole file. Simple stuff.”  His hands are still perched steepled on top of his desk.

You gawk before realizing that of course he had gotten the file first; he’s been here since yesterday, and you figure that there was probably a fair amount of sucking up going on mixed in with, apparently, file reading.  “You...already read the whole file?  Were you ever going to come find me about it?”  It’s about mid-morning at this point, pushing towards noon, and most agents are already well into their work days.  You wonder what Jungkook has been up to all day if not coming to find you, but you suppose you can’t complain.  Reading Jungkook’s name on your assignment with an hour to process that information before actually seeing him is a far better scenario than him randomly showing up at your office expecting you to work with him.

He shrugs.  “I figured you’d come to me first once you found out about it and got settled.  I asked her about you and she told me you’d be here today.  I’ve been busy, and besides, it’s not like it’s a top priority case.”

How can he be so nonchalant about everything all the time while still managing to kiss nearly everyone’s ass?  And what the hell has he been busy with?  You smooth your hair back as you take a deep breath, mentally steeling yourself so as not to go off on Jungkook on your first day of work.  No doubt, you’re still harboring several grudges from the Academy, but you’re a professional now.  A professional.  What a way to start your dream job.

“For future reference, if necessary, I would prefer that we go over the file together in detail first. This isn’t the Academy anymore, Agent Jeon. These are real people dealing with real problems and I’d like to be on the same page as much as possible at every given moment.  Even if the case isn’t ‘top-priority.’”

Jungkook has been like this for about as long as you’ve known him, and although you are mere acquaintances, albeit rivals of a sort, everyone in your class at the academy was well-aware of Jeon “The Golden Boy” Jungkook’s disposition and ass-kissing tendencies.  Top of your class, he always managed the best possible marks while seemingly caring about his work as little as possible.  Showing his face at every party, event, club--you name it--available to him, you have no idea how he managed to get along as well as he did and continues to do.  You suppose it’s probably due to his incredible charm, and some suspiciously large quantity of natural talent, not to mention his good looks.  You may dislike him, but you aren’t blind.  Naturally, his success always bugged you, as you constantly worked your ass off.  Always trailing behind him, never quite catching up, like a dog chasing its own tail, you graduated second in your class.  Years of hard work and careful studying, focusing nearly all of your attention on taking every possible opportunity available to advance your standing, was evidently not enough to best The Golden Boy.  You always got the feeling he wasn’t too fond of you either, not that you really care.  I guess the universe has a strange way of torturing you by assigning you two to the same division in the Aether.

“Noted.”  Jungkook nods.  

“What were you so ‘busy’ with anyway?”  You can’t help yourself.

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, eyes shifting away from yours.  “It doesn’t matter, Agent Y/n.  Sorry I didn’t come get you earlier,” he says before clearing his throat, eyes meeting yours once more.  You decide to let the matter go.  Work awaits.

“Very well, Agent,” you say, eyeing him curiously.  “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go over the contents of the file with you so we both know what’s going on and we can go forward from there.”  You put every effort of your being into injecting nothing but professionalism into your voice, even managing a small, tight smile.

“Fair enough,” he replies as you scoot forward in your chair and unlock your tablet as Jungkook does the same.  Upon closer inspection of the document than earlier, you glean that the report comes from a Mr. Kim Seokjin who apparently owns a flower shop called Worldwide Bouquet downtown.  He claims that his bouquets are disassembling themselves overnight which, understandably, is negatively affecting his business.  He reports instances of his materials floating out of his reach, flowers being flung about his workspace, and the resulting frustration.  Jungkook taps his fingers on the table as you scan the screen, one hand lazily scrolling through his own tablet.

“Sounds like some sort of sprig,” you mutter after perusing the report.  Sprigs are one of the more docile paranormal creatures you’ve studied, typically materializing out of the playful spirit of a child.  As a result, these spirits are typically very mischievous without malicious intent.  Some have telekinetic abilities, some illusory capabilities and the like, but all in all, they are generally fairly easy to take care of and contain until their energy eventually dissipates into the atmosphere.  At least, the Academy had taught you as much.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jungkook offers.  “A telekinetic one, most likely.  Should be a quick job.”

You nod, slightly disappointed that you weren't going to be dealing with something a bit more exciting than a simple sprig, let alone dealing with it with Jungkook.  The Aether probably isn’t too fond of handing off the more sensitive cases to newbies, even if you and Jungkook more than proved yourselves in the Academy.  Too bad there isn’t too much about the case to actually discuss.  You feel a bit foolish for making such a big deal about Jungkook not coming to you after he originally read the file as you feel your shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“See?  Not top-priority,” Jungkook smirks.  “You didn’t think they’d really give us something important for our first case, did you?”

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Yep.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping for something more, but it’s all important work Agent Jeon.”  Besides, if you manage to execute this mission perfectly, considering working with Jungkook proves to be manageable, you’d hope that your next case will be of significantly higher status.

“Of course,” Agent Jeon says, tucking a stray strand of inky hair behind his ear.  “The super important case of the floating flowers,” he snorts.  

You scoff.  “Can’t you take something seriously for once in your goddamn life, Agent Jeon?  I will literally never understand how you managed as well as you did in the Academy.”  Grabbing your tablet in preparation to leave and shaking your head, you stand up.  Jungkook sits unbothered.

“Apparently not,” he retorts, folding his arms across his broad chest.

“Since you seem so blatantly disinterested in this case, I’ll just take care of it myself,” you huff.  “Go back to whatever you were so busy with before, Agent.”

“Agent Y/n, we both know you can’t do that.”

He’s right.  If you execute the mission by yourself without Agent Jeon, it wouldn’t reflect well on either of you, and you can’t risk compromising your image this early in your career.  Especially if it meant you’d be stuck investigating nothing but sprigs for the next ten years.

A long sigh escapes you as you shoot a glare at Jungkook before sitting back down across from him.  You force the fakest smile you think you’ve ever conjured.

“We’re going to stop by Mr. Kim’s later today to get the initial visit out of the way, okay Agent?”  Your voice is thick with mock sweetness.  “3:00, my office.  I’ll be calling Mr. Kim and letting him know we’ll be checking in, kay?”  

“Sounds great, Agent.” Jungkook returns your phony expression.  

You stand up once more, this time with the full intention of actually leaving.  “It was a pleasure, as always, Agent Jeon.”  You straighten your jacket with one hand before promptly exiting, not bothering to close the door behind you.  The last thing you hear is a prolonged, exasperated exhale.  That makes two of us, you muse to yourself.

Upon returning to your office, you slump down in your chair, mind spinning with the incredulity of what just happened.  You’re not sure at all how you’re going to manage working with Jungkook, especially since he seems so hellbent on being as difficult as possible.  This is exactly what you were afraid of.  The feeling, however, is probably mutual, so all you need to do is get through this.  Hopefully after this you’ll never have to man a case with him again, even if you are still stuck in the same division.  

Encouraged by that sentiment, swiveling ever so slightly back and forth in your chair, you manage to boost your mood just enough to finally be able to pick up the phone to call Mr. Kim.

Well, you sigh inwardly.  This should be interesting.

#jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts reader insert #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts au #jungkook fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop writer #bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook

[merryfortune]

You give me flowers of love

Written for 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #39 - Pink

Ship: Nodoka/Hinata

Fandom: Healin’ Good PreCure

Word Count: 3,757

Rating: M

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

AN: title comes from Bloodflowers by The Cure and is recommended listening for this fic.

Tags:  Alternate Universe - Hanahaki, Horror, Gore, Emetophobia/Emetophilia, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Past/Referenced Eriko/Hinata, Minor Blood

   Hinata was not the type of girl who could handle horror stories, urban legends, or anything spookier than a rom-com set against the background of a popular coffee shop. However, there was something about this creepypasta that caught her attention. Maybe she read it to prove that she wasn’t a scaredy-cat or maybe she read it because something about it was almost too real.

   It came across her Curestagram feed, screenshots reposted from another site with long form text functions rather than the optimized for photos aesthetic of Curestagram. It wasn’t late at night, quite the opposite, Hinata had just been scrolling as she was half nibbling on a banana muffin for morning tea. So she was kind of bored and not already unsettled by a vague anxiety sort of mindset so she stopped her scroll to read this totally true story from a friend of a friend that had happened upon her timeline.

   The story involved a sickness. A lovesickness, hooking Hinata immediately since she was a hopeless romantic and leaving her vulnerable to what was hiding down below a few paragraphs after and Hinata realised she was reading a surreal medical horror story.

   Supposedly, some girl from a high school in the next town over had been hospitalized due to damage to her stomach and esophagus but ultimately culminated in her passing away from brain damage due to suffocation. The suffocation that was the outcome of the damage she had taken to her stomach and esophagus had, supposedly, been caused by the growing of flowers inside of her. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They were baffled by the impossibility of it. Yet where they failed to posit theories at all, their patient had her own she desperately desired to reveal. 

   The nameless girl, as weak as she was in her final moments of speech and cognition, was certain with the most crystal clear clarity that she could muster said that reason for the flowers growing inside of her was due to a crush that she had been fostering for quite some time. A crush that was so powerful and deep that it had manifested as literal and impossible distress in the form of tiger lily flowers. Though her claims were dismissed as nonsense, despite the very given evidence that she had been vomiting exotic flowers, except by the narrator who was sharing her story online on her behalf.

   Hinata got to the bottom line of the final screenshot and she dropped her phone on the table. She shivered and flinched as her phone clattered. Nyatoran looked up, alarmed, from the milk that he had been sipping.

   “Heh? Are you okay Hinata?” he asked.

   “Y-Yeah, I just lost my grip.” Hinata replied. It wasn’t a lie.

   “Really? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nyatoran pointed out.

   Hinata made an expression that was both guilty and embarrassed, “Er, sort of… I read a ghost story online and I haven’t the stomach for them.”

   “Oh, well, no worries then. I’ll keep ya safe from all the ghoulies then.” Nyatoran boasted.

   Hinata laughed, “Thanks, Nyatoran.” she replied.

   And that was more or less enough to keep her mind off what she had read for the rest of the day as she did her Sunday homework and such. At least until well after lights out. 

   Hinata cursed herself. She knew endless walls of text in screenshots never bore good news but it was under her skin now. It wasn’t even that scary, she tried to convince herself. It just so happened to play off something she had been thinking about in ways that cut deep and yes, even scary. 

   Hinata had a crush of her own. One she didn’t think she ought to act on. Or didn’t know how to act on. 

   Hinata had a crush on Nodoka. She was sweet and gentle yet so motivated. Hinata felt like she learned something new about either herself or Nodoka after every time they hung out. Things never felt old between them despite how natural their companionship was between them.

   Catching feelings for Nodoka was inevitable, Hinata felt regarding their dynamic as close friends and their friendship was relatively intense due to their bond as comrades being Pretty Cures but that made Hinata sick to her stomach with fear. This wasn’t her first crush that she had on another girl. 

   In the not so recent past, Hinata had been wrong reading other girls’ opinions and feelings regarding her before. She and Eriko had been so close, childhood friends with a pact that seemed fit to stand the test of time when they had made it, and Hinata didn’t think it was a coincidence that already scarce contact between them after Eriko moved was when Hinata had confessed her feelings to Eriko. 

   The rejection had been crushing and Hinata had never told a soul about it. The wound was older now but it still hurt so, as lovely as Nodoka was, Hinata didn’t want to gamble their friendship due to that prior rejection. Yet her feelings crackled like electricity near a lightning rod whenever she was around Nodoka anyway. She could only hope that Nodoka was oblivious since she was so inexperienced socially due to her childhood spent mostly in the hospital.

    (And that Chiyu never brought up the blatantly obvious which she would hopefully never do since she knew there was a place and a time and it wasn’t her place).

   Thus, for all these different and entangling reasons, that horror story Hinata had read this morning really resonated. The thought of her unrequited feelings becoming literal, even in the form of pretty and seemingly harmless flowers, and suffocating. It was a very real fear to Hinata despite that fantastical execution that it was captured inside.

   All because she was a magical girl infused with the power of light and thunder. She fought villains who caused infections in nature and created monsters. To her, it didn’t seem too far outside of her sphere of tried and true reality that such a floral disease of the body could exist. Heck, maybe it did exist and was tied to the war that she and her friends were fighting in secret on behalf of the Healing Animals. It was entirely possible this flower vomit disease was another agent or power of the Byougens. 

   Hinata groaned and the more she scolded herself for thinking about these horrible possibilities, the more she thought about them. She tossed and turned all night, in the dark and under the covers of her doona. She knew Nyatoran would live up to his boasting over morning tea if she asked but he was totally conked out in his little room. Hinata couldn’t bring herself to wake him, to unnecessarily burden him, so she just hid from her fears as best as she could in her blankets.

   The following morning, Hinata was a wreck. She had bags under her eyes and was generally a drag. She hasn’t slept a wink last night but just like she was hiding from the horror story in her head, she decided to hide from the aftermath too. She touched up her eyes with concealer and finished off her make-up with a nice little kiss of lip balm, too. She chose a nice tropical flavour: pineapple with vanilla undertones and wore nude in practice. With that, she was ready for what was no doubt going to be a long, long day of school.

   A prediction that she was very right in having. Just making it to lunch felt like an eternity and a half on low energy. Worst still, despite the precautions that Hinata had taken, both Chiyu and Nodoka had noticed that she wasn’t exactly her bouncy self today. Even with her favourite lunch box in her lap with fried chicken and a fruit drink, too.

   “Are you okay, Hinata?” Nodoka asked and she batted her long eyelashes in concern.

   Hinata knew she couldn’t lie or deflect around Nodoka, at least for the most part, and deflated, “No…” she moaned. “I slept awfully last night.”

   “I expect that it wasn’t due to over studying?” Chiyu asked, sniping. 

   “No, I just. Couldn’t sleep.” Hinata shrugged.

   “Well, be sure to put yourself early to bed tonight then. There’s nothing worse than being tired.” Nodoka said.

   “Will do.” Hinata sighed.

   “Also?” Nodoka prompted her.

   “Yeah?” Hinata glanced at Nodoka was she tried a spoonful of rice from her side dishes.

   “Your lip balm has a very strong smell today, I can smell it from here.” Nodoka laughed.

   “Oh, joy…” Hinata hung her head in misery. She didn’t think it was so pungent in the tube.

   “I didn’t mean that in a mean way.” Nodoka panicked whilst Chiyu had a discrete giggle at Hinata’s misfortune. “I really like it. I think it smells nice. Like cherries. I love the smell of cherries best.”

   “Huh?” Hinata mumbled and she stared straight at Nodoka in confusion.

   Nodoka stared back. Also in confusion. “Is something the matter?”

   “Er, no,” Hinata awkwardly began and she forced herself to laugh and she flapped a hand about too to disguise her weirdness, “I must have been so tired this morning that I though I used one lip balm and instead used another.”

   “That is a little odd…” Chiyu murmured.

   But Nodoka seemed to buy it, she gasped, “Fwow, you must have been really tired this morning to make such a mistake. Promise me to get a good night’s rest tonight then.” Nodoka fussed for her.

   “I promise, I promise.” Hinata replied.

   Just as Hinata spoke, the end of lunch bell rang. She moaned with the utmost misery as she hadn’t finished her lunch even slightly and roused much sympathy from both Nodoka and Chiyu. So, Hinata crammed what she could into her mouth and swallowed before returning with her friends indoors to their classroom.

   She plopped down in her chair and desk, her stomach growling almost immediately. Were it not for the teacher at the front of the classroom, Hinata would have flopped down and keeled over right there and then. She would have killed for a nap. Not even a luxurious nanna nap at this point, she would take a horrid power nap. Anything would have been better than nothing. Instead, the best she could muster was some daydreaming whilst scribbling in her work book so she could at least pretend to be paying attention.

   Her mind strayed to Nodoka. She couldn’t help it. A silly little pining schoolgirl was exactly what she was after all. She doodled Nodoka’s name in her margins, surrounded with love-hearts, paw prints, and even flowers. It was a little bit childish but Hinata was a lot childish so she didn’t mind, she was more or less on cloud nine since Nodoka had shown her care for her over lunch, fussing for her like that.

   It was such a small act but it was more than enough to launch Hinata’s heart in a million miles an hour race. So much so, she began to taste something at the back of her throat. It was a sweet taste accompanied by a fizzy sensation. Hinata liked it and it seemed to get stronger the more she daydreamed about Nodoka. Even though it was the middle of class, Hinata was letting her mind completely run away from the contents of what the teacher was attempting to educate on them.

   Finally, after what felt like a day of self torment because of reading some stupid horror story about puking flowers, Hinata felt free of that gnawing anxiety. But just as she revelled in this, her stomach wretched. She dry gagged with the searing taste of bile at the back of her throat and her hand automatically clamped over her mouth, pen and all. The prior anxiety might have dissipated but a new one had spiked in its place.

   Hinata frowned. Was it because she hadn’t eaten all her lunch that she suddenly felt nauseous? Or was it something else? She begged that it wasn’t her period, she was still quite irregular so this felt off or early to her.

   Then she gagged again. She swallowed it back down. Hard. Whatever she swallowed was thick and sweet. It wasn’t vomit, Hinata had the startling realisation. She tried hard to keep it down but she failed. She vomited into her hand, or at least something similar. The motions were awful, worse than anything else she had ever had to eject from her body orally before.

   Hinata felt sick to the very bottom of her stomach. Her hands shook as she slowly removed the one over her mouth and… and she couldn’t believe her eyes. They widened in shock as she saw the head of a flower in the palm of her hand. It was a cherry blossom, she realised. The pale pink petals were frayed at the edges, burnt by stomach acid and wet with her saliva; the anthers of its centre drooped and dragged, splayed across the petals. Her skin crawled as she marveled at the insane gravity of the situation. She quickly paled.

   And the teacher noticed, “Hiramitsu, are you okay?” he asked from in front of the chalkboard, looking up concerned from the book he was reciting from.

   “I-I, um, I need to go. To the nurse.” Hinata eked out her words with strained difficulty.

   Her stomach flipped and she could feel another one coming up. It slithered up her throat and she hated the slow, dreadful sensation of it, the way it made her mouth taste of bile and cherries in horrible combination. Hinata bolted to her feet, afraid, alarming the whole class. She hid her mouth behind her hand again, holding tight that first flower that she had vomited.

   “I need to go.” Hinata mumbled and she fled.

   The feeling of her classmates' eyes on her felt like broken glass digging. She knew, deep down, they didn’t mean harm but their gazes only served to amplify the terror she felt as she fled. She was fast at first, escaping from the classroom but her stomach lurched and she vomited another flower and then again but two at once this time.

   Hinata stopped in the hallway, she had to rest her shoulder against the wall just to stand as she looked down into the palm of her hand. The flowers were accumulating against her skin, wet and heavy, and accelerating in pace of production. Already she felt another lurch and this one was dire, Hinata didn’t think she would be so lucky to only vomit one or two this next time.

   She had to get to the sick bay. She wasn’t sure what she would do there but anything had to be better than nothing, so she hobbled on in immense pain. By nothing less than a miracle, Hinata managed to get to the nurse’s suite without collapsing. Or with leaving too many flowers in her meagre wake.

   The school nurse panicked almost immediately when she saw Hinata in this state. Hinata sputtered out a thank you whilst she was put to bed. Hinata curled up under the sheets, her stomach lurching and mangled petals dripped out of her mouth. She had to hide her ailment from the nurse. She just had to. She didn’t know how to explain it or anything else pertaining to it but fortunately, the nurse bought her some time by going to use administration’s phone to let her father know that Hinata was in immediate medical distress.

   Hinata held her scrawny belly with one hand and her mouth the other. No matter how hard she tried, these flowers kept dredging up from inside of her and it was worsening. There was distention building inside of her, it was as if she could feel the bushels of cherry blossom flowers forming inside of her and something else too. It was raw and firm and poking up through her like a stick. Hinata moaned in utter agony as she tasted not just sweetness and bile in her mouth, but the cutting, metallic taste of blood too.

   She whimpered as she tried to swallow it down. Attempting so, just made the nicks and cuts to her throat worsen and the petals to clog. Her lungs ached sharply as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes squeezed tight and she begged every deity she could think of for a saviour.

   The door to the sick bay opened again. Hinata murmured to herself and the curtain was pulled aside, “Hinata?” a sweet voice greeted her.

   “Huh?” Hinata slurred.

   She rolled over, still holding herself but even a simple and slow motion like that was enough to rouse her illness violently. Her grimace was deep on her face as she tried to look at Nodoka, even feebly.

   “A-Are you okay, Hinata?” she asked. “I couldn’t sit by and worry when I saw you ill you were, what’s wrong?”

   Hinata opened her mouth. Mostly to reply, but that’s not what happened. She threw up in front of Nodoka and Nodoka couldn’t believe her eyes. Hinata was throwing up bushels upon bushels of flowers. Cherry blossoms. Nodoka blinked. She couldn’t believe the sights - or the smell. The smell was disconcerting with how almost pleasantly fragrant it was, heightening Nodoka’s realisation that this wasn’t Hinata pulling pranks.

   “H-How on Earth did this happen…?” Nodoka asked.

   She was horrified yet found herself unable to resist the impulse. She picked a blossom out of the pile that Hinata had vomited up. It was soft in her hand, even if it was grotesquely wet.

   “I - I don’t-” Hinata tried to speak but she cut herself off when she felt something jut out of her mouth. An entire branch of cherry blossoms began to spike out of her mouth.

   Her eyes began to roll back on themselves as Nodoka watched, in abject and frozen horror, as Hinata contended with this stick inside of her. It emerged slowly from the depths of her throat and made her chest convulse. Her fingers spasmed as she choked around it, flowers blooming along the thin and coarse branch.

   “H-Help me.” Hinata sputtered out.

   Nodoka nodded. She was scared, her heart was pounding, but she was first and foremost a helper of most empathetic ends. She had been on the receiving end of a strange and bizarre illness that had rendered most her childhood for naught. She couldn’t just let Hinata struggle. Suffocate.

   So, she got onto the bed with Hinata. She straddled her so she could best approach the foreign object inside of Hinata. She focused her eyes and was as ready as she could ever be for an amateur operation quite like this one. Nodoka reached out and pinched the end of the branch delicately. It was entirely unsafe, Nodoka knew that, but she began to pull. She peered into Hinata’s pink mouth was clogged with twigs and petals, and tried her best to dislodge what she could.

   Hinata gagged. Tears in her eyes and she plead, silently and afraid, that Nodoka could handle this. Nodoka’s hands shook but she did, in fact, manage. She tried her hardest and she did succeed even if it felt pyrrhic as Hinata screamed out as the last, and thickest, part of the cherry blossom branch was removed. 

   Nodoka flinched hearing the scream, dropping the cherry blossom branch between them. Hinata spat out blood and petals but the cherry blossom branch had been removed. She caressed her neck and it was raw with what it had been through. Her touches did little to soothe or quell her pain, she looked up at Nodoka with pathetic, red rimmed eyes.

   “What was that?” Nodoka asked, her heart quaking. “How could any of this be possibly real?”

   “I - I don’t know.” Hinata mumbled but that was a lie. She choked on her words all the same as she had choked on those cherry blossoms. Her hands squeezed tight. “No. I’m sorry. I do know.”

   “Pardon?” Nodoka quietly exclaimed.

   “There’s a very rare disease,” Hinata began, hasty, “that causes flowers to grow inside of someone suffering with a crush that they just can’t handle.”

   “That’s horrible…” Nodoka murmured.

   It was now or never, Hinata realised. Or she was going to end up exactly like the girl from the story that she had read yesterday. She knew it. She just knew it.

   “Nodoka, it’s you.” Hinata confessed, half a sob in her voice. “I’m crushing on you.”

   Nodoka was stunned by Hinata’s admission. 

   Hinata panted, her face was going bright red whilst her heart pounded like a hammer at her rib cage. She couldn’t believe it. She had done it. But it felt like a weight off, she had to admit, she didn’t realise her crush had been such a burden until right now. She felt herself lighten with the confession, from the very pit of her stomach, upwards and outwards.

   Nodoka averted her gaze and Hinata was reminded once more why a crush was called a crush. That borderline feel good feeling from before popped. Burst. Nodoka played with her hair, fidgeting, and then managed to speak in a very calm and very quiet voice.

   “I have a crush on you, too, Hinata.” Nodoka replied. “I admire so much how you sparkle and shine. It’s very refreshing to be around. I like you too. A lot.”

   Nodoka reached out to Hinata’s hand and held it. She was so warm and she was still trembling but Nodoka’s caress of it did soothe her. Hinata hazarded a smile, like she couldn’t believe her ears, through her scarlet expression. Nodoka leaned in and kissed Hinata.

   Hinata was unable to kiss back, afraid of her own breath but Nodoka didn’t mind. It was pungent with cherry blossoms and wet but she found the kiss sufficiently sweet, kissing Hinata’s soft, balmy lips. They were tinged with pineapple and vanilla beneath that overwhelming sensation of cherry blossoms.

   “Thank you, Nodoka…” Hinata murmured and somehow, she didn’t know or understand how but she wasn’t going to complain, she was cured, prettily, of her affliction. 

   The cherry blossom flowers on the bed or in her gut, disappeared. All with seemingly little aplomb. Even the branch that had to have been removed from her throat, all with a soft, fizzling noise that Hinata could hardly hear over the sound of her pounding heart. She still had the cuts and scrapes, but she was no longer growing flowers inside of her stomach. Hinata was cured and Nodoka was her blessed, angelic cure.

#100ships challenge #femslash #nodohina #healin good precure #healin good #precure #nodoka hanadera #hanadera nodoka #cure grace #cure sparkle #hiramitsu hinata #hinata hiramitsu #writing tag #i really like this fic so i hope you guys enjoy

[xxsanshinexx]

The Definition of Love

Shoutout to @soulofatiny for inspiring this work

Characters: Wooyoung x Reader

Words: 5835

Summary: You only knew the textbook definition of love, but really, was that the same as the real thing?

~

Love was a thing you only knew the definition of. Categorized by the dictionary as a noun and occasionally a verb. In one sense, it was an intense feeling of deep affection. In another, it was a great interest and pleasure in something. In all these definitions though; they merely just gave love a general description, pushing the words off into another adjacent category like interest or affection. Never once did the definitions give you any insight into what love really was.

What it felt like.

It happened on your third month of eleventh grade. Students were rowdy. Teachers were starting to fully feel the nuisances that came with description of their jobs. The administration was struggling to adjust to the new characters littering the school grounds. And then there was you, avoiding all of the above as best you could. You swerved around gaggles of friends at lunch, doing your best not to get too involved with the little greetings here and there; truly you didn’t want to be bothered on your free period. There was only one place you wanted to be, the library, a place where you could truly do whatever you wanted with little restriction.

The librarian, an old woman by the name of Mrs. Yang, never seemed to pay you any mind as you sat in the back corner reading a book or dabbling on your laptop. You had gained her respect by being the only student who visited the place on the day free books were being handed out. Unlike the other students who came for the extra credit promised by their teachers, you had came for the sole purpose of getting free books. The words free and books delighted you separately and together? Well it was your absolute dream.

“Good afternoon Mrs. Yang,” You greeted as you stepped into the always cold library.

“Ah good afternoon Miss Y/n.” She smiled and turned back to the book that was splayed across her desk, “How are you today?”

“I’m good Mrs. Yang, and you?” Truly you didn’t mind talking to this woman. She was always kind and never dragged on like most of the other older people you had talked to before.

She smiled, not picking her head up from her book, “I am just splendid, dear.”

You nodded in response and began to walked to your corner, which had beanbags and books piled around it, “That’s good to here, Mrs.”

“I take it you’ll be where you always are?”

“I have nowhere else to go, Mrs. Yang.” You joked though there was a lingering pang in your heart as you flopped down onto the antique bean bag. Since the beginning of your high school experience, you had been mainly alone. Sure you knew everyone, had occasional chatter with those around you, but ultimately, it was you and your books. Everyone else was too caught up in the idea of highschool; the parties, the people, the sweetly sick love- and you just couldn’t be apart of it. It’s not as if those things didn’t interest you, or that you didn’t want to try them out at least once, it was more that those types of things never seemed to come your way. Acquaintances never invited you out, class parties never seemed to really include anyone outside of that circle, and you didn’t talk to enough people often to feel any sort of strong attachment to them.

The thoughts just made you sink a little further into the dust ridden seat. You had at least another hour until you had your next class, maybe you could catch up on homework or read a book or something. A small huff of internal annoyance left your lips as you reached into your backpack, pulling out your laptop and headphones- deciding that watching that movie for Lit would be the best option.

Who knew The Great Gatsby would be so dreadfully emotional. Having only watched barley forty minutes of the movie, you knew the rest of the film was going to do you no good. At least the entire thing was interesting, as you would later have to begin a report of the differences and similarities of the movie and book. A boring lesson that you had done a hundred times prior. You took in a deep breath and went to press play again, the eyes of DiCaprio beginning to haunt you on the screen, when a voice interrupted your actions.

“Um, excuse me?” The voice was timid and you furrowed your brows before you looked up. In front of you was a boy who made you wish you had taken a deeper breath as all the air left your lungs. You had never seen him before, you were sure of it as no one else in your grade had such angelic features and ashy hair.

You forced yourself to remember how to breathe, “I-um yeah.. Yes?”

He chuckled a little at your ragged response, the noise akin to music, “The librarian told me to come talk to you, said you had out the only copy of Billy Elliot left.”

Of course a book would be the only reason a good looking stranger would talk to you, “Oh um, yeah, sorry. Do you need it right now?”

He shrugged a little, eyes wandering over your lazy form squished into the bean bag, “Just soon. I need it by break so that I can do the assignment.”

“It’s no problem, you can have it.” You said, reaching forward into your backpack. Billy Elliot had been an interesting book, and while you hadn’t entirely finished it, you didn’t have the heart to deny him it, “I’m almost done anyways and the ending was already spoiled-”

“Keep it.” He suddenly said and you couldn’t help but frown.

“I’m sorry? I-I thought you wanted to read it-” He waved his hand and you stopped your words.

“I want to make a deal with you instead?” His voice sounded unsure at the proposal, like he was still sifting through its agreements.

“A… a deal?”

He nodded his head, as if he agreed with your words. “Yeah a deal, you keep the book but I get to hang out here with you while I read it.”

The proposition made your face grow red, and you fumbled to find the right words for a second. “What.. W-Why in the world would you want to hang out here? And you don’t even know my name.”

“Yeah I do, the librarian told me it’s Y/n.” The cocky smirk made you roll your eyes.

“Okay fine, I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Wooyoung, you could have just asked,” A small smile spread across his lips at how flustered you were, “So deal or no deal?”

“It’s a deal…”The words felt funny coming off of your lips, “i guess.”

“Sweet!” He cheered and flopped down in the bean bag adjacent to yours, his shoulder nudging against your own as he made himself comfortable. His proximity made a set of fresh nerves cloud your system. You hadn’t really been this close to anyone, much less a cute stranger, in a long time.

“Am i that exciting?” You turned your head slightly, just so you could see his head laying back lazily against the torn blue leather. The sight sent a weird, racing feeling into your stomach.

“You seem interesting Y/n, I mean your hanging out in a deserted library watching- is that Leonardo DiCaprio?” He eyes trailed from yours to Leo’s, the actor seeming to captivate the boy who couldn’t seem to keep his mind on track.

“You were saying, Wooyoung?” You smiled a little at his behavior. He was rather interesting.

He shook his head and forced himself to turn away from the screen, joyful eyes looking up to meet yours. “Oh yeah! You’re watching DiCaprio, slumped in a bean bag with literally no one around you. That makes you interesting to me.”

“Thanks.. I guess?” You laughed a little, having never been complimented as “interesting” by anyone before. It was all rather surreal and you couldn’t decide if you were dreaming; knowing how often you found yourself trapped between the world of books and ideas.

“It’s a compliment, I don’t find a lot of people interesting Y/n.” He smiled up at you and it seemed as though time stopped for a few seconds. An electric feeling coursed through you at the happiness he held in his toothy smile, especially since all of his emotions seemed directed towards you. That odd feeling in your stomach shocked you a little, leaving you tingling from head to toe. You were sure if you looked the hairs on your arms would have been standing straight up. It didn’t make sense, the feeling of excitement he gave you, it didn’t add up or match with any of the things you had read or learned. Maybe it wasn’t a thing you had learned yet, or seen in some book; no boyish smile could make your heart dance so fantastically.

And if it weren’t for the bell that snapped you from your thoughts, you might have realized what you felt was the beginning of the definition for love.

And damn, did that small kindle of love grow as you learned more about Wooyoung than just his name.

“Y/n!” The boy who made your heart race in funny ways yelled, bounding through the sea of students to get to your side. Ever since your initial meeting, you had noticed Wooyoung a lot more around campus and in your classes. Apparently you did have him in your history class as well as math; with him sitting in the back and you always in the front row. You had no idea how you had missed a boy like Wooyoung in your classes, but you just blamed it on the fact that you were never very observant of the people; focusing more on the material than anything.

Now though, you could never miss Wooyoung. In little less than a month of knowing him you could already spot his head in a crowd, his brash laughter amongst ceaseless chatter, and his voice in a loud room. It was odd how attached to him you were already, though the attachment was certainly not one sided.

“Hi Wooyoung,” You gave him a little smile as he slowed to a stop besides you, a giant grin on his face.

“Do you think you passed the math test?” His first words were breathless, but there was still that hint of enjoyment in eyes as nervousness seeped into his tone, “I sure don’t think I did. Might have to just pull some of my charms out on the teacher.”

You scoffed as you turned into the hallways that would lead to the main exit of the school, “You can’t seduce your math teacher to give you a better grade.”

“What? Don’t think a married man like Mr. Creed would like a fine ass person like myself?” He gestured to all of him and you rolled your eyes, fighting the stupid blush that always wanted to appear on your cheeks whenever he brought his features to the spotlight. Him and his dumb grin always made you feel such sparks across your skin.

“Truly his loss,” You sighed, playing into his fantasy, as you came to a stop on the main steps of your school, “but no, I don’t think you’ll be able to seduce a 60 year old man to change your C to a B.”

“Bummer, I really didn’t want to have to study.” He pouted and turned to you, smiling at the amusement that laced your eyes. Wooyoung was always just so fun to watch and listen to. You always found yourself giving him your full attention no matter the topic, for he always was just so animated in whatever he did.

You shook your head at his antics, “So what are you going to do instead of studying?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah, ice cream.” He nodded and reached out to grab your wrist, the area exploding in a sensation of pricks and tingles, “How about it? I’ll even pay.”

You fought the feeling his light hold had on your hand, and mustered up a little smirk, “You had me at you’ll pay.”

“That’s the last thing I said!” He laughed but nonetheless began to tug you in the direction of whatever ice cream shop he dearly wanted. It wasn’t the first time Wooyoung had tried to drag you off on an after school adventure. The first time was only a week after you had met each other and he profusely whined that he had no one to go get pizza with, and you just couldn’t say no to his pout. You knew he had other friends, like the 12th grader Yunho and the 10th grader Jongho, yet he always made time for just you. A part of you wanted to feel touched that he always gave you the time of day and the other part told you that’s how friendships worked.

The shop was only a block from campus, it’s vibrant colors almost visible from the steps of school. You had only been here a few times before but you remembered how nice it was. The smell of sweets wafting through the interior and the pleasant songs reverberating against the walls. Wooyoung pulled you towards the door where a smiling ice cream cone was plastered against the glass.

“What kind of ice cream do you want?” He asked as he pulled you to stand in the little line that had formed. You were surprised this place wasn’t busier despite school being out.

“Um I don’t know?” You mumbled looking over the array of potential choices, “Everything looks good. Maybe just like vanilla or something though?”

“That’s pretty basic Y/n.”

“Oh I’m sorry what are you getting mr. exciting?”

“Strawberry but maybe cake batter, maybe both if I have enough money.” He grinned and pulled you in front of the case, to get your orders taken by the unhappy college student. You had ended up with something simple, mainly due to the fact that there was just too many flavors to choose from and you wanted more toppings than actual ice cream. Wooyoung, however, had gotten enough ice cream to feed a small family and enough toppings you weren’t sure what happened to all the dessert underneath it all.

“Don’t you think you went a little...overboard?” You pointed at the mountain of whip cream atop his dessert. You were sure you could see it swaying in the light breeze outside the shop.

Wooyoung chuckled a little and picked at the cream with his spoon, “Come on, they gave me a discount!”

“Cause you bought out half the supplies!” You argued, taking a bite of your own ice cream.

“Just means I’m a good customer,” He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

“Just means you don’t know how to spend your money.”

“Are you jealous of all the stuff I got?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down as he lifted up a spoon of pure whipped cream.

You huffed and looked down, swirling your plain vanilla with your spoon, “Nope, not at all.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“I am not-” You shook your head and looked up, only for a small handful of whip cream to come in contact with your eyes and nose. You let out a squeak at the sudden feeling and scrunched your face up at how cold it all was. And you knew your culprit immediately by the way his laugh resonated with your ears, “Wooyoung!”

He just continued laughing, loud and abashed, as you wiped away the mess from your eyes. You could see him, his head tilted back and his mouth wide open emitting a noise akin to music. There was such a light to him in that moment that you couldn’t help but begin to feel giddy as well. Usually you would have been pissed that someone had just thrown their food in your face, but you couldn’t be mad at Wooyoung. He was so happy about his harmless prank that it almost didn’t feel fair to take away the victory from him.

“Thanks a lot, Wooyoung,” You shook your head, fighting the smile on your face, as you tried to flick some of the whipped cream in his direction. And it worked, with the little cloud of white finding its mark on his nose and splattering across his cheeks. He let out a shrill shriek of surprise, no doubt startling others around you, as he stiffened up in his seat at the contact with the cold topping.

He pouted as he made contact with your sheepish eyes, “I guess I deserved that.”

“You think?” You laughed and he couldn’t help but mirror your actions until the both of you were but a mess of laughing teenagers, dessert toppings covering your face and happy tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. It had been awhile since you had laughed so heartily with someone, so purely, without a single care in the world.

Wooyoung was the first to settle down, “You’re a mess.”

You scoffed at his statement, “You’re not much better.” He grinned at the lazy retort and you felt time stop once again. The smile was radiant, like the sun above had kissed it with light. You knew Wooyoung had a pretty smile, you knew Wooyoung was pretty; but something about that moment felt so different. The way his lips twitched up in pure bliss, his eyes were alight with that life you yearned for, and his whole body seemed to exude a sense of joy that was hard to come by- it made you stop and wished you could have taken a picture. With the splatter of whipped cream coating his nose and cheeks, it was a moment of perfection and one that made your heart beat in unknown rhythm, made your stomach fumble with an emotion you weren’t sure of. All you knew was that you wanted to stay in this moment for a little longer.

Wooyoung’s smile softened a little as he stared at you, and he reached forward to hand you the array of napkins on the table, “Here.”

You gave him a faint smile as you took the napkins from him, to clean up the mess he had made of you externally, ignoring the tickling feeling that soared up your arms as you lightly made contact with his hand, “Thanks.”

But a couple of napkins couldn’t clean up the mess of your heart, your mind, your body- the mess of you he was making with his dumb smile, his pretty eyes, the life that surrounded him. The way he was making you feel so spectacular despite barley knowing him.

It wasn’t for a few more days that you got your answer to the feelings that seemed to only come out around him.

“Good morning class!” Mrs. Choi greeted as the bell rang and all the students shuffled into their seats. You had already been there minutes before the bell rang, glued to your seat in the back as you read through your previous lecture notes. Mrs. Choi was a great teacher yes, but Psychology was but a broad topic and you always had to review, “Today we will be switching gears from bad to good.”

“Bad to good?” A student from the front pipped up as Mrs. Choi flicked on the PowerPoint presentation, the colors on it a bright contrast to the rather monotone room.

“Yes from bad to good. We’ve been focusing on the negative reactions certain things have on the brain and body and I think we need to get into a little more light hearted topic before you all leave for break,” She reasoned and gestured to the display, which now read “positive emotions” in white bolded letters. “We’ve been talking a lot on how anger affects the body and how sadness can make you do incredible things-” She talked as she sat down on the table in the front, eyes scanning the room of students who were skillfully note taking, “-and now it’s time to talk about how good emotions affect the body, like happiness. Now, can anyone tell me something that would make them very happy?”

“Winning the lottery?”

“Money?”

“My family?”

Mrs Choi nodded along at the suggestions, “While some of your ideas of things that cause happiness are very.. Material, substantial things such as people or life achievements cause a great deal of happiness.”

“So like passing a test you studied for or coming in first for something?” Mrs. Choi gave a nod at the question.

“Yes, with things like that we are much more susceptible to long term happiness rather than with things such as the lottery or money. Could anyone give me a noun, and technically a verb, that many humans consider holding a lot of happiness?” You frowned at her crude question as well as the rest of the class. There were too many things that could cause a lot of happiness, and that would probably have to do with the perspective of the person in question as well.

“You all are looking at me like you’ve never experienced this!” She laughed and changed the slide, pointing to the one word in the center, “Love is what many consider to be the peak of happiness. I’m sure many of you have experienced such a thing once in your life.” Your eyebrows furrowed as her knowing smile. Sure, you knew you were loved and you were loved by some, but you weren’t sure you would have considered that peak happiness. You felt happier that day at the ice cream shop with Wooyoung, than you did when you were around your parents most of the time.

Mrs. Choi smiled at the students giving her funny looks, “I know what you all are thinking, I’m not incredibly happy with my parents? My siblings don’t give me that peak feeling of happiness? Mrs. Choi you’ve lost your mind!” She stood up from her spot on the table and began to walk around as she talked, “It’s good that your mind first went to your parents and family members; however, that’s not the type of love I was initially talking about. The Ancient Greeks had love separated by family, romance, friendship and the love for humans. We call these storge, eros, philia, and agape respectively. The one that tends to invoke the highest feeling of happiness is Eros, the feeling of romantic love.” Her words settled with you oddly as you wrote it down without question, “Eros is the feeling most of you will experience in full during your years here. How many of you have feelings you can’t explain when you’re around someone? That sinking in your stomach? The flutter of her heart? The joyous feeling you get when around that one person”

You couldn’t help but gulp when she spoke. She was asking all the questions you had been asking yourself. “These feelings have multiple meanings, yes, but they all have one distinct connection-” Your phone buzzed quietly on your desk, and you looked over to see Wooyoung’s silly contact picture hovering above the meme he had just sent you. A small smile made it’s way onto your face, and that fluttering feeling sank into your bones, as you turned back into your teachers words. “-They all have a distinct connection, and that connection is love.”

It was as if a jolt had gone through you, casted straight from the heavens above as her words went through your head. Love. It made your stomach sink… it made your heart flutter… it's what made you feel so giddy. The pieces seemed to fall into place as you looked down at the profile picture on your lockscreen, the name seeming to ring in your ears without even haven been spoken, and you swallowed thickly at the realization.

Wooyoung made you feel all the things connected to love.

You were in love with Wooyoung.

“Most of the time we do not realize it until odd, simple moments. Yet, such love has the greatest effect on our minds and bodies.” Mrs. Choi’s voice lingered in your head as you continued to gape down at your phone, heart now beating wildly at the realization that set your bones on fire, “Love is but a very funny thing.”

Love was but a funny thing indeed.

A thing that made your heart race and your breathing become erratic as the bell rang signalling lunch. Everyone in your class rushed to the door but you took your time to pack up, trying to calm yourself from the inside out. Now that you had a title for all the emotions and feelings, everything made so much more sense. You just didn’t think the realization of such a pure thing would make you have trouble breathing.

You stumbled out of the classroom door and let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t see Wooyoung right outside of the door. At least you were granted a few moments to get your heartbeat back to normal. You slowly began to walk towards the library, praying to whatever Gods above that the knots in your stomach would go away before you reached your little corner. There was no doubt in your mind that Wooyoung would already be there, with snacks for the both of you, sitting on the bean bags in the back corner that no one ever bothered.

And you were right, noticing as soon as you walked through the library’s doors, that Wooyoung was stretched out across to bean bags, his phone high in the air above him. No doubt he was scouting out the latest meme or TikTok, a thing he had failed to try and get you into. You walked over to him trying your best to project a facade of normality, especially as he turned and flashed you that bright smile you had come to adore.

“Y/n! Did you get that meme I sent you?” He said sitting up so that you could sit on the second chair that he was previously lounging on.

You took your spot with a small smile, doing your best to not show any other emotions except mild amusement, “Of course. It almost got me in trouble in Psyc.”

Wooyoung gave a little chuckle but there was a glint that came into his eyes at your words and it worried you, “Mrs. Choi didn’t take your phone?”

“She loves me too much to do that,” You rolled your eyes but at the mention of that damned word your heart sped up erratically again, your stomach knotted and your ears roared. The close proximity between you and Wooyoung became all too prominent and you flopped back into the seat, hoping maybe the jolt would shock your body enough to stop the feelings that had ahold of you.

Wooyoung raised an eye at your behavior as he sunk into the seat next you, head tilted so he could stare at your face. Even if the pair of you had only been close friends for a month, he could read you like an open book. He knew the second you walked into the library that something was bothering you; with the way your lips were in a tight line and your left hand was shaking uncharacteristically. He knew you were bad at hiding your emotions despite what you and others believed.

“I’m sure she did,” His voice dropped in volume and you closed your eyes to resist looking over at him, knowing that that intoxicating feeling would overtake you again. You hadn’t decided if you liked it, the tingling and the sparks, even if they always followed you around when you were with one of your favorite things. You just couldn’t really believe you had fallen in love and you didn’t know if you wanted any of the repercussions that came with it.

“Y/n.” Wooyoung’s voice finally registered in your mind and you nodded in acknowledgment.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong.” He said it like no question and you refrained from sighing. Of course Wooyoung would know something was up immediately.

“Nothing.”

He scoffed and turned on his side, giving you his full attention and you couldn’t help but glance over to his captivating eyes. They were entirely full of worry, “Don’t lie to me Y/n… just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just… I learned something today,” You managed, tearing your eyes away from his as he cocked his head to the side. There was a roaring in your ears as you spoke and a sinking in your gut; but something wanted you to just tell him your epiphany. A part of you wanted to sing it to the world and it took every ounce of willpower not to just say it. You knew, internally, you just wanted to say it. Maybe than the dumb butterflies would leave your stomach.

“You seem pretty shook about it? What’d you learn about? A war or something?” He continually questioned and leaned his head down, hair brushing against your shoulder and your lips tightened into a straight line at the tingling contact.

“No… um it’s a.. It's something about myself.” You stuttered out, eyes wandering to your fingers in your lap, running your fingertips over your nails to try and ease your nervousness. You could feel your body tightening, in your back, in your arms and legs, all due to this odd stress that had been thrown upon your body as soon as Wooyoung laid his head against your shoulder.

“What is it than?” You could feel his breath against you shoulder as he pulled your hands away from one another, fearful you would somehow find a way to rip off your own finger. He had never seen you so fidgety, so nervous; and he had been with you the day you had a giant history presentation.

The way his fingers curled around you hand softly made your mind draw a blank, as your stupid heartbeat picked up into a sprint. You could only focus on the way his thumb softly drew circled on your knuckles, a thing you had told him you did to calm yourself down. You watched him, drawing shapes on the back of your hand gently, and spoke the first cohesive sentence you could form. “In psych they… we were talking about that feeling of butterflies... and electric jolts and such...and how… how i-it can mean your in love.”

He laughed a little and squeezed your hand in his own, that once unknown feeling encompassing your figure tenfold, as his words came out in a coy tone, “How’s that a bad thing?”

“Because I feel it all when i’m around you.”

You just had to say it. Maybe it was the way his tone made you jolt with energy or how carefully he caressed the skin of your hand. Maybe it was just the fact that with every second your mind kept screaming to tell him everything. It was the fact that all your nervousness seemed to fade, the stress that was weighing on your body, all faded into background noise at your words and you felt so much better.

Wooyoung’s quiet laughter made you furrow your brows in confusion, especially as he spoke in a light hearted tone, “Your confession was a lot more poetic than mine was going to be.”

“What?” You were thoroughly dumbstruck at his words and you could feel his smile grow against your shoulder.

“I was going to tell you today too, but it was going to be through some dumb meme… i’m glad i waited.”

“Wait.. you.. You...me?” You stuttered, getting frustrated with your brain as you tried to form an understandable sentence.

Wooyoung just laughed and lifted up a little, so you two could make eye contact as he spoke, a new seriousness in his gaze,  “I get those same, stupid butterflies when I’m around you too, Y/n.”

You could only stare at him as you croaked out, wonder-struck by the whole situation, “When?”

He smiled at you, a whole other look of fondness on his face, “Our little ice cream date. Not just anyone will let me pelt them with dessert toppings and let me live.”

“Dumbass,” You mumbled but a little grin grew on your face, as well as a blush as you pulled up your hands to cover your face. Wooyoung reluctantly let go of your hand and instead watched as color rushed to your face, and he could tell it was due to excitement rather than embarrassment.

He reached out and cupped the side of your face, a new sense of confidence taking hold of him, and brushed down your hand so you could see his smiling face, “Yeah, but I want to be your dumbass.”

“My dumbass?” You voice was quiet and questioning, because you couldn’t believe the way his smile was making you giddy or how you really just wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Or the major fact that he wanted to be with you. You believe that was the real reason to why you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

He laughed, hot breath fanning against your face, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Yeah, your dumbass. So… is it gonna be a yes or no?”

A smile grew on your face, as his fingers trailed over your skin leaving a trail tingling sensations, “Yeah…. Yes you can be my dumbass.”

For once in your life, Wooyoung looked bashful at your acceptance. A timid smile grew on his lips as he retracted his hand from your face and moved it to encase your own, fingers intertwining almost like it was second nature for them. His voice was wavering a little as a spoke, “Can.. can we finish up that Billy Elliot movie?”

“That’s the question you ask next?” You laughed a little and leaned back into your seat, training your eyes to take in all that was Wooyoung. His ashy hair always styled neatly, a smile that left you feeling woozy, and eyes alight with a life that made you want to stare at them all day. Adding all of his physical features with his personality; one of childlike playfulness and a caring only found in the most compassionate people, it made sense. It was no surprise, you thought as you looked at him taking in the curve of his shy smile, that every little thing he did made your heart race, your stomach knot, and your bones alight with a newfound sensation. You smiled a little at his new timid nature and squeezed his hand a little tighter, enjoying the feeling, “But yeah… we definitely can.”

You now knew the definition of love.

And it was everything Wooyoung was.

#wooyoung #wooyoung fanfiction #ateez #ateez fanfiction #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung headcannon #wooyoung oneshot #jung wooyoung #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung drabble #wooyoung angst #ateez fluff #ateez headcannon #ateez oneshot #ateez imagine #ateez drabble #kpop #atiny #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #mingi #san #jongho #headcannon #fluff #angst #imagine #drabble

[hellyeahomeland]

“Chalk One Up”: an HYH recap

It’s five days after the ceasefire. Carrie’s still riding around on motorcycles at night, though it’s unclear where she’s going or why. On her way back to her room, she hears what sounds like her voice. A few tech guys are—very loudly!—listening back to her conversation with Yevgeny and trying to make out just what the hell they were talking about.

This makes Carrie so damn anxious that the next day she ventures into the (unlocked) COMPUTER ROOM. I have no idea what she was trying to do. Hack into the main frame and delete the audio undetected? She starts rummaging through desk drawers (why???) when in walks a square-jawed military policeman. They ask her to come with them, and Carrie does about as well with this lack of info as you’d imagine. She starts yelling, doing her whole Carrie thing, then name drops Saul Berenson. “Mr. Berenson’s fully aware,” replies Officer Square Jaw. It all has the ring of that scene from “The Star” when the Iranians find Brody at the safe house and Carrie’s like “PLEASE, SOMEONE CALL JAVADI,” and they’re like, “The colonel IS. AWARE.” Everything that’s happened this season reminds me of something else. Not in a bad way...

Meanwhile, Samira’s back. She’s chatting with her friend as they go shopping. I checked and she’s only credited as “Samira’s friend,” but I FUCKING LOVE HER. She’s a “bright and shiny” person, as Shonda would say. She’s going on about how peaceful it’s been, how the ceasefire is working, and everything is changing! Samira is more than skeptical. Outside the market two men with ice cream cones approach and one offers Samira his cone. Samira’s friend decides now is a perfect time to take a selfie. It is the most awkward and tense and “something bad’s about to happen” selfie that ever existed. But I still love her. They arrive home to find Samira’s brother-in-law waiting for her. Her friend looks on concernedly and that is how we know this woman is a Queen!

Carrie continues being the opposite of chill in the car on the way to her mystery destination, which turns out to be Bagram Airfield. Carrie is about 4000% sure this means she’s off to some CIA black site but instead she just meets Saul there, and he informs her that actually President Beau is on his way. And he wants to meet her. But no one knows what about. So just chill—for real this time—for the next four hours.

In Kabul, a bunch of people and one dog file slowly into the Presidential Palace for another mystery announcement. Tasneem is there, dressed in all white and a strand of pearls, looking like the bossy but classy angel of death that she is. They do this thing where they check their phones, the same way you would a coat, and Tasneem looks HIGHLY displeased to have lost her device. We continue to stan. She runs into G’ulom inside and they both whine about how they have no idea what’s going on but also have a feeling that Beau himself is coming to Afghanistan. So actually they do know what’s going on. Anyway, Tasneem has had enough of this.

Tasneem: I’m outie, y’all. See ya on the flippity. Saul: Not so fast. Tasneem: I can’t believe you went behind my back. We were pretending to be frenemies! Now we’re just enemies! Saul: You tried to kill Haqqani. Thanks for that, btw. It really broke the log jam. I guess you could say that… backfired. Tasneem: [rolls eyes]

Elsewhere, Samira and her brother-in-law have a nice chat, and by “chat” I mean he tells her to come back to their village because people are talking and also he would like to marry her now. She tells him to gtfo and the cinematography is like something out of a tense indie domestic drama (in the best way!!).

Back at Bagram, Carrie squints her eyes, which is really not something she does all that often, unless she’s looking at a screensaver, and WHAT DO YOU KNOW Jenna is there. Carrie, I know you are already on high alert about this woman, but homie is gonna probably try to kill you.

Beau Bridges gets off the airplane and greets the Afghan President. Then he makes a beeline for Carrie, whom he wants to personally thank, because, y’know, if Keane hadn’t bailed on the presidency because she didn’t give half a shit about getting Carrie out of Moscow he might not be Commander in Chief! That’s how season seven ended, right? 

Anyhoozles, Carrie sort of changed his life and is also why he’s standing right in front of her, which bodes really well for Carrie’s constantly simmering guilty conscience. He talks about how courageous Carrie was, he can’t imagine what she went through, etc. Carrie becomes visibly emotional but is ultimately speechless. He’s likely the first person who’s acknowledged the type of sacrifice she did make, instead of glance suspiciously in her direction. He excuses himself because the next stop on his trip requires a flak jacket (always a good sign!). He gets into one of two helicopters—Chalk One and Chalk Two—and off he goes.

Carrie is hoping for a nice silent ride back to the Kabul station but Jenna has other ideas.

Jenna (booting up, non-verbally): How. To. Be. Human. Woman? … Gos. Sip. Jenna: So what did the president say? Carrie: Nothing. Jenna: It didn’t look like nothing. It looked…. INTENSE. Carrie (non-verbally): This homie really just wants me to say something passive aggressive to her again, doesn’t she? My God. Jenna: Was it classified? Carrie: No, it was personal. Can you take a fucking hint? Jenna: Carrie, you have no friends. Why wouldn’t you tell me, your not-friend, something personal that the President of the United States told you in private? Carrie: First, thanks for reminding me I have no friends. Second, he thanked me. Jenna: For being a pain in all our asses in Kabul? Carrie: No, actually he thanked me for Moscow. You know, that thing that you all think makes me look extremely suspicious? Well, our boss up top actually thinks I’m a hero. How’s that for personal, dummy? Jenna (non-verbally): I wonder what it would be like to have a mind of my own? …

Their conversation is interrupted by Samira calling Carrie, because Carrie didn’t really have enough to do this week. Samira—oops!—let her brother-in-law back into her apartment for some reason and now he and some other Taliban dudes are going to basically kidnap her and take her back to the village so he can marry her. Carrie says she’ll be there ASAP.

Another surprise! Beau is coming to the exact same combat post where Max has been trapped stationed for the last four episodes. This all plays out in a somewhat surreal montage since, for some unknown reason, Beau’s trip is being broadcast live around the world. Saul gives a speech at the palace about how peace is happening and—I shit you not—the red curtains behind him literally open up to reveal the live feed. In case we couldn’t understand that it was theater.

Meanwhile, the Hot Marines get ready for the president and Hot Evil Veep in Washington says, “No thanks, Linus, I’d rather watch this on Fox News by myself.” Tasneem sulks in the corner, and then later outside with G’ulom. Beau explains to the soldiers that they’re coming home and they cheer. He takes selfies with some of them and makes corny jokes. Everyone shakes hands and congratulates themselves on a job well done, even though several people this episode openly acknowledge that this is just step one (cue Carrie in Sara’s mind: “this—this is just phase one, the real attack has not come yet”).

Afterward, it’s finally time for Max to leave. The Hot Marines try one last time to convince him to stay—they’re still staying for the foreseeable future after all, the US Military moves at a glacial pace. Maybe it was the sad puppy dog eyes they gave him, or maybe Max really does have a sixth sense about these things, but, improbably, he decides to stay. He doesn’t get on Chalk One.

Samira is being escorted out of her apartment by her brother-in-law and some of his Taliban dudes but their car won’t start. Too bad no one was watching the car while they were inside to prevent this exact thing from happening. Anyway, Carrie appears out of nowhere and tells them not to fucking move. They have the car surrounded and she, rather gracefully and quickly, gets Samira out of one car and into the other. All in a day’s work, I guess! But she can’t revel in the triumph for too long because there’s been an “RTB” (return to base) call and they all need to go back to the station.

And why exactly? Well, the president’s helicopter (Chalk Two) is nowhere to be found. I know what you’re thinking. But it’s NOT aliens. Apparently the escort helicopter saw nothing, which is strange, because it had, again, literally one job.

Saul arrives back at the CIA station to the camera in Chalk One surveying the wooded forests, looking for Chalk Two. They locate it, spewing smoke, crashed on the ground. In the White House situation room, everyone looks around sort of dumbfounded at the feed. HEV asks who’s in charge and Linus is like, “uh… you?”

Carrie races into the command center and asks Saul what’s happening. He tells her the president’s helicopter is down. She asks how that’s possible, which is a great fucking question! Before Chalk One can land to attempt a rescue, they spot some Taliban soldiers with an RPG approaching and start shooting. They fire the RPG back and hit the helicopter directly. So much for a ceasefire. Carrie and Saul look on, shellshocked, at the now blank screens.

#this episode was a doozy #it's a perfect companion piece to 'there's something else going on' #homeland #chalk one up #* #by: sara #an hyh recap #homeland spoilers

[jira-chii]

My Favourite Scenes from Curious Incident

(NB: I haven’t read the book. And warning for SPOILERS)

It’s been a solid month since I watched the play of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, but I did say I wanted to write up some of my fave moments, so here they are:

The montages Throughout the play you get scenes where Christopher rambles out long recounts of events in excruciating detail. I imagine in the original book these must appear as massive walls of text, spanning multiple pages. How does one make such a thought dump look entertaining on stage? Complement it with some amazing choreography, of course. Humans act as inanimate objects as Christopher recounts these massive text passages. A woman’s arm becomes a swinging door, a man bends over like a coat hanger etc. The charade-like choreography is full of rhythm, complementing Christopher’s fast-paced speech. It is a way more creative, efficient and entertaining method than using real props, which actually emphasises the more important scenes where real props are used.

The letters At one point Christopher discovers a box of letters from his mother, which was hidden in his father’s room. As he reads more he gets more distressed. A shower of letters falls from the ceiling, covering him in a mess. Accompanied by a jumble of alphabetical letters on the screen it is an apt representation of both his mental and physical chaos. The scene is both impactful and efficient, blending in nicely to when his father comes home and discovers him passed out in the mess.

The train scene This scene was the most impactful for me and was almost my favourite scene from the whole play. Christopher plays with his train set when he speaks to his teacher/therapist (?). I thought it was to help him focus when telling his story, but I did notice that the prop was never removed from the stage. Christopher does frequently and suddenly jump between flashbacks and the present without any complex transitions though, so the train set was a useful method to keep us grounded. Little did we know, that little train set served a much bigger purpose. The play reaches a critical turning point toward the end of the first half as Christopher realises he can no longer trust his father. What will he do now? Suddenly, the boy starts reciting an address. It is the address of his mother, written on every single one of her letters. As he repeats the words, a map starts to form on the screens behind him. A map of his mother’s location. At the exact moment the map completes itself, the train on the floor frickin’ lights up and starts to move. Oh my god there could not have been a more dramatic way to draw the curtains on the first half of the play. It literally looked liked the pieces of a puzzle falling into place, with the whistle of the train signalling his final decision being made.

The station Christopher’s first journey to the station is also his first time stepping away from his community. The cacophony of the station is heightened to emphasise the fear of a boy stepping out into the wider world for the first time. The sensations for the eyes and ears are all turned up to eleven: advertisements constantly move across the screens in all different directions. Loud noises overlap each other. People are everywhere. At one point Christopher even walks on the walls. 

The real train scene I was fascinated with how they managed to make a stage look like a moving train, and yet not like a normal train at the same time. The passengers move back and forth in rhythm. There is also a moving projection of black and white trees, making the whole situation seem bleak but also mysteriously surreal.

The dog (aka my favourite scene but also the one w most spoilers) It comes as a surprise to nobody that this was my favourite moment in the play. After a tumultuous series of events, we find Christopher in a strained relationship with his father, unable to trust him anymore because of one lie. His father also deeply regrets his mistake and desperately wants to make up with his son. But child protection is on to him and he is only given five minutes with him.  Now throughout the play it is clear Christopher is part of a dysfunctional family. His father in particular can be prone to violence, but you also feel empathy for all the adults in Christopher’s life who are all just trying to do their best. You realise that though his parents are flawed, they do really care for him. Christopher’s father gives an incredibly sincere speech, about how he made a mistake, about how he’s sorry, about how he knows it will take a long time to heal these wounds he caused. He knows it will be hard to make up, we’ll take it a step at a time, we can make it a project! You love projects! Unfortunately Christopher doesn’t seem convinced, so his father lets his actions speak for themselves as he carries a big box onto the stage. And from it, a fucking real life puppy runs out and onto Christopher. This was such a meaningful scene on so many levels, not least because the whole series of events started because Christoper’s father lied to his son about killing the neighbour’s dog the night his wife left (and then making up the lie that she actually died). Additionally, Christopher has issues with human contact, but he has no problem holding the dog. It’s the first time we see him touch a living thing comfortably (he would not even let his mother hug him even though she hadn’t seen him for years). It’s just the perfect gift in every way. Also the puppy is just adorable, tugging on Christopher’s sweater and even showing hesitance when it’s time to leave. In fact, we were fortunate enough to be able to meet the little star himself at the end of the show!

The ending Did you think I was done? haha, that’s the type of moment this scene was as well. While the puppy scene was my favourite, the highlight of the night was actually the ending. Well, like, after the ending. After all the bowing and applause, the actors and actresses leave the stage. However, not ten seconds afterwards, Christopher walks back on and thanks everyone for not leaving. This is hilarious because in an earlier scene, this is foreshadowed, and I’m sure some of us in the audience were even looking forward to it. Just hours after arriving back home from his mother’s place, Christopher takes his GCSE Maths test. This test means a lot to him, he had been fighting to take it a year early however his school was against it because it would appear unfair to the rest of his special class. Exhausted from his journey, Christopher nevertheless persists. However he is distraught that he is unable to make sense of the words on the page. On stage (but actually in his mind), his therapist helps to calm him. Then Christopher is able to read again, he is able to understand the question, and he is so excited that he jumps up onto his desk, ready to show us all how to do maths! But then the therapist lady breaks the fourth wall, informing him that it would not make for very interesting theatre. Seeing his disappointment, she immediately assures him he can show it after the play, so only the people who want to see it can stay behind. Well I am fairly sure everybody stayed behind haha.  I was actually so surprised at just how interesting they could make a Pythagoras theorem maths question. In addition, he used this chance to give credit to all the sound and light facilities in the room, right down to the huge confetti blast when he solves the question with 2min to spare on the clock.

All I can say is, what a fucking fantastic performance.

#CuriousinAu #the curious incident of the dog in the night time #analysis #play #theatre #long post #spoilers

[nythroughthelens]

It's early morning. I am 10 years old.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table furiously scribbling finishing details onto a blueprint that I've painstakingly drawn over the course of the last five days.

The blueprint is for my own chocolate factory fueled by my umpteenth reading of Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

The drawing is etched onto blank newsprint sheets that my family refers to as scrap paper.

---

My father fell into his job as a union pressman for the Daily News out of necessity.

He had just moved to New York City with next to nothing aside from his wife, a suitcase full of clothing, and a few dollars.

Having only completed a Junior High School level education in the farming community he lived in growing up, he didn't have a lot of options when it came to joining the workforce.

When someone introduced him to the Newspaper Printing Pressman's Union, his life changed. The union took him in and trained him in the brute art of loading printing presses.

He worked nights for the next 20 years at the Daily News feeding large bales of newspaper to hungry printing presses. His knees and back suffered as did his general mood. He was an irascible character that I rarely saw. 

I relished the large amounts of blank newsprint scrap paper that existed in our house. It was the kindling for my escapist imagination.

On blank newsprint canvas I would scrawl out information about my endless Dungeon & Dragons campaigns, and draw up blueprints for my future fantasy wardrobes reminiscent of the one in Chronicles of Narnia.

Eventually, my father moved from loading printing presses for the Daily News to doing the same exact thing for the New York Times. This was a huge deal for him. Even though he was still breaking his back literally and metaphorically, the clout of working for the Times vs the Daily News was enough to make him smile (a rarity) and celebrate when he got confirmation of the move to the Times.

I grew up with an understanding that the New York Times was a paper that held weight in the minds of many. But that understanding came with the deeply embedded belief that it was the place where other people got mentioned and written about. It was a place to admire other people, not the people I grew up with or even people like myself and my family who were living on the bitter edges of poverty barely eeking out an existence.

---

It’s July and it’s sunny outside. I am 20 years old. I am sitting at my desk listening to Depeche Mode while registering for classes in the art school I am attending for illustration.

I have been living on my own for the last two years after having been disowned by my parents due to leaving their conservative religion. 

Being disowned feels like the loudest silence in existence. 

The only break in the silence comes moments later when my roommate tells me that my mother is on the phone. I answer and she informs me that my father died earlier that morning and she felt she should let me know. You know, just in case, it mattered.  I don’t know what matters when I hear those words.  Those words replay over and over in my mind for the rest of the summer.

---

It’s January and it’s a grim, rainy afternoon. I am 25 years old.

I have just celebrated my birthday and I am sitting on a couch I rescued from the trash.

I start listening to a Sigur Ros album.

The music swells to an emotive crescendo. It's the type of crescendo that propagates self-reflection. I try to imagine my future and start crying soul-wrenching tears that pour down my face.

I've been working seven days a week in dead-end jobs for years. I am so tired.

My roommate and his girlfriend come home right at that moment. He sees me on the couch with a tear-stained face and sits next to me. Without any words exchanged we hug for a good half hour while I sob uncontrollably into his neck. 

It’s a real hug. I can feel his ribs and it reminds me of how fragile existence is.

I go to sleep that night the same way I have been going to sleep for years, recalling a blizzard when I was a child.

My father had to stay home from work that night since the trains were not running. Our neighbors offered use of their sleds and my parents happily took them up on the offer.

As soon as my father stepped outside, his face erupted into a huge grin and he proceeded to spend the night pulling me and my brothers on sleds through the streets of Flushing.

The snow swirled like confetti at a ticker-tape parade.

I looked up at the street lights and in that moment wonder and magic felt tangible and real, as real as the wind kissing my face.

I returned to this moment every night for years because for years bedtime was one of the few things I looked forward to.

----

It’s December and It's almost midnight. It's the winter of 2012.

I am feverishly checking the weather forecast to figure out when the first snowflakes will fall to the ground.

I listen to The Cure - Plainsong on repeat. It's my ritual before every snowstorm.

The chimes start and as the lyrics kick in, I get goosebumps:

"I think it's dark and it looks like it's rain, you said And the wind is blowing like it's the end of the world, you said

And it's so cold, it's like the cold if you were dead And you smiled for a second

I think I'm old and I'm feeling pain, you said And it's all running out like it's the end of the world, you said

And it's so cold, it's like the cold if you were dead And you smiled for a second

Sometimes you make me feel Like I'm living at the edge of the world Like I'm living at the edge of the world It's just the way I smile, you said"

I have felt like the wind is blowing like it’s the end of the world for what seems like an eternity.

It's these lyrics I hear in my mind when I walk seven or eight miles in snowstorms trying to capture what loneliness, isolation, and nostalgia have felt like trying to survive alone in New York City.

I lose myself every time I go out in the snow.

I lose the feeling of hunger gnawing its way through my stomach for years.

I lose the crushing feeling of futility I used to feel heading to endless dead-end jobs hoping to keep the lights on for another month.

I lose the years of wondering if my family ever even thinks of me.

I lose the bits of myself that suffered the most.

I lose the anger, the sadness, the loss.

I am cleansed by the flakes that flutter in the night air and land on my nose and eyelashes.

I am, momentarily, that child in my neighbor's sled looking up at streetlights marveling at the wonder of existence.

----

It's today.

I walk to the newsstand.

I open the New York Times and see my book, New York in the Snow, staring back at me.

I grin for what seems like an eternity.

A post shared by Vivienne Gucwa (@travelinglens) on Nov 26, 2017 at 10:38am PST

----

(special thanks to everyone who has been in my life for the whole journey or even part of the journey - some of you probably don't even know the impact you have had)

(and, of course, a warm thanks to the New York Times for making me believe that dreams really do come true)

(this moment probably won’t ever not seem surreal.)

#vivienne gucwa #new york in the snow #vivienne gucwa new york times #new york times #nyc snow #new york city snow #nyc #new york city

[kingyeoly]

Privilege : Chapter 4

Synopsis: Kyungsoo lands halfway across the world in Seoul after his mother’s death. Cue the rich long-lost CEO father and a spot at one of the most prestigious boarding schools in The Republic of Korea. It doesn’t take long for Kyungsoo to get mixed in with a troublesome group of elite boys. Or, Where Kyungsoo finds out he’s actually the Korean Cinderella. Suho, the untouchable semi-evil stepbrother who rules the school with an iron fist. Sehun, the adorable little (big) brother who defends Kyungsoo at all costs. Jongin, the heir to a hotel empire and a LITERAL model (possible prince charming?) and Chanyeol, the best friend/volleyball star who challenges Jongin in winning over Kyungsoo’s heart. Who will win? Rated: R

Warnings: Fluff, Slow burn, Boy X Boy, Smut, Love triangles

Pairings: D.O & Kai, D.O & Chanyeol, Sehun & Chanyeol, Suho & Lay

Chapter 3

Masterpost

Chapter 5

“My name is Do Kyungsoo...you’re my roommate?”

Kyungsoo quietly entered the dorm closing the door behind him as the two made formal acquaintances.

Yixing sat on a stool near his bed looking intently at Kyungsoo as if he were examining him.

His eyes squinted and locked on him for a second before slightly sighing, looking back at the easel that sat in front of him.

“Yes,” Yixing replied as if something was just bothering him, “I’m sorry If I surprised you, Kyungsoo.”

He smiled, his attitude quickly changing, “I actually just got back from China today...my flight was delayed so I couldn’t make it here during move in day with the rest of you all.”

Kyungsoo nodded, “I thought for a second that I was going to be all alone.”

He laughed dryly trying to make conversation, “I see you paint?” Kyungsoo mentioned earnestly as he made his way over.

Yixing looked up from his painting to meet eyes with Kyungsoo. Something about his gaze was haunting yet suave and delicate.

“Mm, yeah,” He said nonchalantly, “My mother is a fashion designer in China and my father is a artist so I guess I get my talents from them.”

He chuckled as he continued adding some detail here and there.

Kyungsoo hid his amazement, instead he examined Yixing’s work in awe. It was an incredibly surreal portrait of a man, possibly a teenager, but it looked incredibly lifelike to the point where it started to scare Kyungsoo; it was that good.

“You’re incredibly talented.”

“You think so?”

Yixing rubbed his chin as he examined his painting, “I’m not sure if I like it or not...I feel like something might be missing.”

“Well, maybe it’s who you’re drawing...do you know him?”

“Yeah, I did know him.”

The tone in Yixing’s voice dropped, his words dripped in some type of pained secrecy that Kyungsoo wasn’t going to press any further.

He quickly felt the need to change the subject. He walked over to his drawer after an idea had struck him.

Kyungsoo really loved to draw himself, he wouldn’t consider what he draws true art like Yixing. It was more of a hobby for him if anything.

He’s never showed anyone his drawings, not even Chanyeol in fear of eternal teasing and harassment over his stupid little drawings.

“Uh, mind if I can get your honest opinion?”

Kyungsoo handed over his notebook which Yixing suddenly perked up to.

“You draw?!” He said in excitement, eyes beaming.

Kyungsoo laughed dryly, “I wouldn’t consider what I draw art. And I’ve never shown anyone my drawings, but, I’d love a professional's opinion.”

Yixing cocked a little grin as he opened the notebook, flipping through months of Kyungsoo’s work. The room fell silent as Yixing examined many of Kyungsoo’s drawings.

“It’s okay if you don’t lik-”

“These are really beautiful, Kyungsoo.”

The small boy’s eyes blinked hard as he became flushed by the compliment.

“You think so? Really?”

Yixing happily nodded, eyeing Kyungsoo more carefully now as he handed the book back to him.

“Yes, I do. You have a lot of potential; your attention to detail is polished and although it’s not the style I do personally, I think you have a really special gift.”

Kyungsoo grinned, “Thanks Yixing.”

“Yeah, of course,” he placed the notebook back in Kyungsoo’s hand as he yawned, “Oh, by the way, where are you from?”

“I’m from the States, why do you ask?”

Yixing grinned, “The Koreans here talk with this kind of accent I can’t describe,” he stretched before winking at Kyungsoo, “You sound a little different I guess.”

“A pretentious tone maybe?”

Yixing cackled, “Hm, I guess you could say that maybe?”

Kyungsoo sat on his bed, crossing his legs as he got himself comfortable.

“I’m pretty different.” He said dryly.

Yixing’s eyes locked on his new roommate, “That makes two of us.”

  The first day of school was surprisingly great.

And as the next couple of days came around Kyungsoo found himself adjusting to his new school life incredibly well.

Although Sehun was adamant about walking Kyungsoo to every single one of his classes the first week.

He went through the motions, made some friends here and there and before he knew it, it was Friday.

Kyungsoo made his way to his desk.

Literature was probably his favorite class and he was grateful he could end his day with a subject he rather enjoyed.

The classroom began to fill up as Kyungsoo casually grazed upon the room and the incoming students here and there.

Until his eyes caught onto something different.

Kyungsoo cocked his head, his eyes zoning in on a male figure sitting in the first row, hair black, broad shoulders, and probably a giant from the looks of it.

That’s new…

“Alright class settle, settle!”

His English professor called out as the bell called the class to order, students rushing to their seats and quickly getting adjusted.

“Yes, well, before we start today’s lesson I would like to introduce a new student that will be joining our class from now on. Please, introduce yourself!”

Within an instant their eyes locked, a small grin stretched across the students face as he casually spoke to the class.

“Hello, I’m Kim Jongin. I’ll be joining your class for the rest of the semester.”

His eyes were still locked on Kyungsoo as if he were really talking solely to him.

“I was actually in another class, but, there was a mix-up, so, I’m glad to finally be in the right place. Please take care of me well.”

The class returned formalities as Jongin returned to his seat, sneaking one last glance back at Kyungsoo who looked directly back at the model with his big doe eyes.

Yes, Kyungsoo was internally geeking out about the fact that they now have a class together. He’ll admit his shameless lust and weird attraction to the guy which he kind of hated since it was such a clique considering he was probably this hot shot fuckboy that everyone secretly lusted after.

Hell, just from a simple observation he could already see half of the girls in the class stealing glances.

“Alright, thank you, Mr. Kim, and…” Professor Oh’s voice cracked, “Oh, young man...I’m sorry you must be the other transfer, yes?”

The class began to shuffle, turning their heads toward the back almost as if all eyes were landing on Kyungsoo.

He shifted in his seat nervously, he was fucking here the first day...he wasn’t that unmemorable, right?

Kyungsoo went a little cold from all the unwanted attention.

Totally unsure of what to say considering the wide-eyed girls who were just eye fucking Jongin were now utterly restless and dead set in his direction which confused the fuck out of him.

“I..-”

“Yes, sorry I was running a little late.” The booming voice filled the room.

A warm voice who snickered at the end of his sentence out of embarrassment.

Kyungsoo’s eyes went wide as he followed the rest of his classmate's gaze to a tall, big-eared figure.

“Ch-Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo screamed out, totally surprised with how loud he yelped it.

It was like the sun, the smile he had missed.

“Oh my god, Chanyeol!”

Kyungsoo quickly got up from his seat practically throwing himself into wide open arms and the warm embrace he had missed terribly.

“What the hell are you doing here?! Oh my god is this real?!”

Chanyeol let out a hearty laugh, his hands placed gently on the sides of Kyungsoo’s beaming face.

“Hey, I made a promise didn’t I?”

“You big goof,” Kyungsoo chuckled as he playfully punched Chanyeol’s arm.

“Boys?” Professor Oh called out in confusion.

“Ah!” Chanyeol immediately apologized.

“My name is Park Chanyeol…”

His eyes darted downward as he broke out into a toothy grin that had at least one of the girls in the class saying ‘omo omo’.

“Buuut, I’m Park Chanyeol. Love playing volleyball and videos games. Also, I’m from LA and speak pretty good English so if anyone needs help in English Comp. just let me know. I charge fifty dollars an hour.”

Kyungsoo quietly nudged Chanyeol’s side in annoyance

“Also, yes, I’m sorry for that outburst. Kyungsoo and I here haven’t seen each other in a while...This is kind of like a reunion, I guess you could say.”

Chanyeol awkwardly grinned as all eyes were on him.

To which Kyungsoo definitely heard a cluster of girls either whispering of fangirling over his giant of a friend.

“Ah, is that so?” Professor Oh smiled, “Well, feel free to talk all you’d like after my class...?” He jokingly warned.

Chanyeol snickered at his smaller friend, sending him a quick wink before walking towards an open set near the right side of the classroom, ways out from Kyungsoo who sat in the back.

His attention shifted to a presence that felt as if it were almost begging for attention.

Kyungsoo locked eyes with the model who sat in the front seat whose skin was sun-kissed and lips plump and naturally pouty.

His sharp eyes unreadable and sexy. He cocked a slight grin as he glanced Kyungsoo up and down, rubbing the bottom of his lip as if he were thinking of something sinister.

A look that definitely didn’t make Kyungsoo mutter ‘omo’ under his breath.

No...definitely not.

  “Your hair!”

Kyungsoo stepped on his tiptoes in order to get a feel for Chanyeol’s new set of dark brown locks.

“Argh, yeah, do you miss the red?”

Kyungsoo huffed, “Yeah...I think I do actually.”

Chanyeol pouted as he crouched down in order for Kyungsoo to properly play with his new natural looking set of hair.

“Wow, I’m impressed it’s not completely fried.”

“Hey, don’t be mean!”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes as he started walking towards the exit of the building, unaware of the set of eyes locked on him from the shadows.

“H-Hey wait up!”

Chanyeol chased after him, quickly wrapping his long arms around Kyungsoo’s small shoulders.

“You know...despite you being so small you’re a pretty big bully.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, secretly loving the banter he’s missed out on for a good month.

“Yeah, well, I left sad valuable Kyungsoo back in LA, sorry big red.”

“Ya, I’m hurt.” Chanyeol gripped his chest playfully, “I thought you might've changed over a new leaf after you left but it turns out that was all an act, huh?”

Kyungsoo bit his lip, he realizes how much of a sap he was, but, considering the circumstances he thinks it was well warranted.

In that moment, all those weeks ago, he truly thought he was going to have to finish off his high school years without the person he started them with.

He grinned at the thought, happy to know that nothing was going to change after all.

“Well, you’re here now, right? Why do you want sad Kyungsoo...I thought you wanted me happy?”

“And I do!” Chanyeol choked out, coughing as he gathered his bearings.

“Wait, Chanyeol, how the hell are you here?” Kyungsoo asked completely dumbfounded.

“Ah, about that.” Chanyeol did that stupid old man snicker laugh that Kyungsoo hated but secretly loved at the same time.

“Well, you know my mom and dad are surgeons, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, they actually come from pretty important families here and graduated from this school way back when. As did my grandparents.”

“You’re lying, right?”

Chanyeol looked down at his short-statured gnome of a friend, showing off a toothy grin, “Heck yeah, Soo. Which makes me a Legacy.”

Kyungsoo squinted his eyes, “Wait, you know about that stuff?”

“Oh, well, my parents kind of filled me in. I was pretty much in the dark about it just as much as you were.”

Kyungsoo nodded, “Well, how did you know I was here exactly?”

Chanyeol began playing with Kyungsoo’s ears, something the short teen secretly welcomed.

“Dummy, you’re the one who told me, remember? On the phone?”

Kyungsoo cooed at the memory thinking back to those weeks ago.

“It took a very convincing powerpoint ang some slight begging to get my parents on board with it, and after my pretty convincing and A+ performance they spilled the beans on their past and our connections to the school.”

“No shit…” Kyungsoo muttered in awe.

This was too weird to be true.

“Yep, hey, wanna come over to my dorm? It’s so sick, Soo, you’re gonna freak!”

Kyungsoo nodded, following the giant onward as he chuckled noticing Chanyeol’s wide smile and how it beamed with goofy excitement. A sight that he’d missed seeing so much.

“What about volleyball!” Kyungsoo stopped dead in his tracks, “This was supposed to be your big year, how could you give that up?”

Kyungsoo’s brows furrowed, “You wanted to be captain for so long, Yeol, you worked so hard for that position!”

Chanyeol sighed, rubbing his chin almost acting ‘too cool for school’ which Kyungsoo also hated.

“Nah, the guys will be fine. I trust Minho, he’ll lead them to State no doubt.” He grabbed Kyungsoo’s arm yet again as the two began walking, “Besides, Soo, I can play volleyball here.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, my grandpa set up something with the coach. I have an individual tryout on Sunday.”

“Yeah?!”

Chanyeol giggled, “I said hell yeah once already, right?”

Kyungsoo jabbed the giant's side at that sarcastic comment (which actually hurt his fingers considering Chanyeol’s core was hard as a damn rock)

“Gunna come and cheer me on from the side, Soo?”

“When have I ever not cheered for you, idiot.”

Chanyeol sighed, “I've missed your loving words. I really did.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol stopped right in his tracks, “Here we are! Casa de...or...del? Ahh, this is my home, I fucking tried.”

“Chanyeol, you were never good at Spanish I don’t know why you just didn’t test out of Korean and get the easy credits like I did.”

“Too easy, Soo! You know I like a challenge.” He slyly winked, which Kyungsoo annoyingly scoffed at, lifting Chanyeol’s arm off of him in playful annoyance.

Kyungsoo’s eyes narrowed in on the dorm and it was...marvelous.

The architecture was no joke. The dormitory looked as if it was taken right out of Rome and delivered to this very spot here in South Korea. There was lush greenery all around. An elegant fountain was placed in the courtyard as simple lounging areas and a small garden with hundreds of exotic flowers decorated the brim. Regal street lamps lit the way as they walked on the modern rocky path.

“Chanyeol this is…”

“Amazing, right?” He beamed.

“You live here??”

“Yeah, stupid, didn’t I just say that in Spanish?”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes as Chanyeol ruined the moment, something he had a knack for doing.

“Kyungsoo??”

A familiar voice called out as a set of long arms wrapped around his small body. A light scent of bourbon fragrance he’d become familiar with quickly filled his nostrils.

“Oh, Sehun!” He smiled at the surprise.

“Hey, hyung, I looked for you after class but you were gone! W..hy…”

Kyungsoo noticed his little brother catching a glimpse of his tall friend.

“Oh...yeah, Sehun, It’s because Chanyeol surprised me today and suddenly goes to school here now! I guess we got caught up in talking and I just spaced. I’m sorry.”

Sehun looked a bit shy before he remembered his manners and politely bowed, greeting Chanyeol properly for the first time in person.

“Oh, no no it’s quite alright, really.” Sehun’s voice was nervous, “I understand. Completely. Yeah, of course.”

Kyungsoo cocked his head in confusion before giggling at Sehun’s weird behavior.

“Ah..Oh! I see you made it to Privilege House, yeah??”

Kyungsoo’s eyes narrowed before turning his attention back to the big enchanting site that was Privilege House.

“Yeah...Chanyeol actually lives here.”

Kyungsoo said absentmindedly still taking in the scene.

“No kidding?” Sehun perked up.

“Wait, you don’t live here, Kyungsoo?”

He turned to meet eyes with his tall friend, “Nah, they filled up. That and Suho hates me, so, I didn’t exactly get an invite to the club.”

“Bullshit, my mom said you’d be living here too.”

“A-and he should!” Sehun interjected.

“I’m still trying to get him a spot in the house, Chanyeol. Don’t worry about it...I’ll fix it, okay!?”

  Kyungsoo made his way back towards his dorm.

Today was such a crazy day filled with so many emotions. There is just something about the feeling of genuine surprise that is so purely magical.

He smiled at the thought.

The moment he saw those big ears his heart basically ran out of his chest and onto the damn floor.

Chanyeol looked pretty cute in that blazer too. Too bad he didn’t get a chance to check out his butt.

Granted, Chanyeol doesn’t have much of an ass but Kyungsoo still appreciates it all the same.

He makes it halfway up the stairs leading to the dorms before he looks up to see a tall figure he’d already grown accustomed to seeing casually leaned over stone railing.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Jongin crossed his legs eyeing Kyungsoo with a welcoming smile.

“Well, yeah, I kinda live here, so..”

Jongin pursed his lips, “Ahaa, yeah, of course.”

Kyungsoo stood there looking up at Jongin, noticing just how damn handsome he was.

That and tall.

“English class was pretty eventful, that a friend from back home?”

“Chanyeol? Yea, we grew up together back in the states. He surprised me today, I didn’t know he was transferring.”

“Surprises are fun.” Jongin replied slyly as he perched himself up on the railing, “Wanna come sit? I promise I won’t bite...or scare you.” He grinned, “Scouts honor.”

Kyungsoo snorted, following the motions and getting comfortable next to Jongin as his eyes locked on a site that took his breath away.

His big eyes grew wide as he noticed the fall leaves changing colors upon the mountains that surrounded the academy. The sunset sat just perfect, causing the rich colors to truly glow.

“Beautiful, right?” Jongin leaned forward taking the sight in for himself.

“I like to come here some days to watch the sunset. Not a lot of people know about it, It’s kind of a secret.”

“It’s not a secret if you tell people about it, Jongin.”

He pouted, looking down at Kyungsoo before looking back into the sunset, “I guess it can be our little secret then...how does that sound?”

Kyungsoo liked that, he liked that a lot, actually.

Sunset watching with a cute guy was definitely somewhere on his bucket list.

Sunset watching with a legitimate model and the heir to a hotel empire probably wasn’t, but, he was sure it still counted somehow.

“Deal, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty” His voice cocky as regret quickly filled Kyungsoo’s mind.

“It’s an expression, don’t let the nice words fool you.”

“Ahh...so...you don’t think I’m pretty?”

“I didn’t say that-” Kyungsoo paused before letting out a cynical laugh, quickly realizing he had just fallen into Jongin’s little trap.

He teasingly poked Kyungsoo’s tummy without any warning which obviously scared the fuck out of him.

“Hey!”

“What?” Jongin teased, “I thought you liked surprises??”

Kyungsoo shook his head trying hard to hide the smile slowly stretching across his face.

“Surprise? No Jongin, the past few times I’ve met you you’ve managed to creep up and scare the hell out of me.”

Jongin bit his bottom lips, looking towards Kyungsoo as he noticed just how big and heart-shaped his lips were or how the sunlight illuminated Kyungsoo's big doe eyes which revealed just how rich and brown his irises were.

Jongin took in the site for a moment before Kyungsoo turned his head, their eyes meeting as the sunset fell onto them.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Kyungsoo," He grinned, "You scare the hell out of me too.”

#kaisoo #kaisoo fanfic #chansoo fanfic #kyungyeol fanfic #chansoo #DO #kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #EXO fanfic #park chanyeol #chanyeol #kim kai #kim jongin #kongin #privilege fanfiction #privilege fanfic #EXO fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction #jongin fanfiction #chanyeol fanfiction #Kim Junmyeon #baekhyun #zhang yixing #kim minseok #jongdae #kaisoo fanfiction #chansoo fanfiction

[restlessmaknae]

Paradox [pt.2]

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Word count: 1997

Genre: angst, drama, a bit of fluff

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan); Yu Dayoung (OC)

Setting: non AU

Warning: mentions of character death, suicide, hints of depression

Chapter warning: -

They were so young, so talented yet so desperate.

Meno’s Paradox (Learner’s paradox)

Meno asks Socrates: "And how will you inquire into a thing when you are wholly ignorant of what it is? Even if you happen to bump right into it, how will you know it is the thing you didn't know?"Socrates rephrases the question, which has come to be the canonical statement of the paradox: "Man cannot search either for what he knows or for what he does not know. He cannot search for what he knows - since he knows it, there is no need to search - nor for what he does not know, for he does not know what to look for."

I wanted it to be as easy as the start. Without telling silly fibs, without hiding behind masks and without constantly being terrified. However, as trust exists, so does fear. Fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of the unknown. There are so many types of fear and you were only one of them. My greatest fear.

 Korea was famous for its year-ending festivals, music shows and award ceremonies. They held one almost every week as autumn slowly turned into winter and idols had no chance but to practice and practice even harder. It eventually paid off, especially when they won an award and went home with a trophy after a meal paid by their proud manager or CEO.

Lee Donghyuck was lucky to have such diligent and reliable members by his side, even though he sometimes felt like an outcast beside them. He was the youngest out of the NCT 127 members and he was aware of the fact that he still had a lot to learn. He was getting more and more annoyed when he couldn’t get a part of the choreography right or when he messed up his lines, despite the fact that he had only a few words to remember. At that time, he was promoting with NCT 127 as it was the first and only sub-unit for the time being that produced an album, thus he had the opportunity to perform with the group at those so-called ceremonies.

However, awards were a totally different thing. Whenever it came to receiving one, he was so astonished that he wished he’d be able to voice out what was going through him. The first Asian Artist Award was like a dream for him, he thought that he was still sleeping, tangled up in a beautiful daydream. It felt like it was just his own fantasy that he childishly made up for himself.

As time went by, it felt more and more surreal for him. Not only did he almost pass out when he heard that they had won the Best New Male Artist at MAMA but it was then and there that he caught sight of Yu Dayoung for the first time. She was standing amongst her sunbaenims whom she was supporting, tiptoeing in a pretty black dress that softly followed her curves and emphasised the parts that should be emphasised. She joined the newly debuted YG girl group – BlackPink – as a backup dancer for their special stage and tagged along in the backstage area.

The girls had just received the Best Music Video trophy, small wonder why the backstage interaction between the two bands and their staff mainly focused on congratulating on each other’s excellence.

“You have worked hard, Donghyuck-ssi,” Dayoung muttered as she bowed respectfully. He was so used to neutral congratulations and other good old lines that her words totally caught him off guard.

“You know my name,” he said in awe, totally baffled upon hearing his full name as most of the idols barely knew him or knew him only by his stage name. The girl was dumbfounded when she realised that Donghyuck was still talking to him, in spite of the fact that she was merely a backup dancer.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, biting her lower lip. Her big doe eyes - that resembled falling stars that he wanted to wish up on - sparkled so brightly that he couldn’t focus on anything else beside the glowing star in front of him. “We are actually in the same year at SOPA,” she admitted coyly and before he could say anything else, his members shoved him away and her voice slowly faded away. She became another unfathomable face in the bustling crowd, dissolving into the other idols like she had never been there in the first place.

Donghyuck was left staring at the spot where she had been standing, trying to scoop himself up after her surprising confession. It wasn’t new to him that he didn’t know the name of all his classmates because he didn’t have a good memory. Plus, he was always with Jaemin and Jeno when he even attended school, so he didn’t dare to glance at anyone else, especially not a girl. It was risky for idols as gossip would immediately start spreading like wildfire if they knew that he looked at a female student. He was old enough to realise that he shouldn’t cause any misunderstandings. It would do harm to his band, to his company and to all the people that constantly worked hard for their success. He didn’t want to let them down.

Nevertheless, after the ceremony, he couldn’t wait for the day when he could go to school again because he was so eager to meet her. It’s not like he knew that he would encounter her because Dayoung was also in the industry but something in his guts told him that it would be his day. He was right.

The familiar figure was sleeping peacefully on her desk, her head rested on the top of her exercise books. Donghyuck cracked up at the adorable sight and earned deadpan looks from his sleepy friends.

“What is it?” Jaemin asked as he sat down at his own seat, taking out his books from his bag. Jeno silently emulated his actions, knitting his eyebrows in question.

“Nothing,” he shrugged smoothly, a playful grin evident on his face.

“It’s good that nothing can make you snicker like that,” Jaemin snorted as he averted his eyes to his history book, soon totally indulged in the history of the Goryeo era.

Donghyuck himself didn’t know what struck him but he felt a sudden need to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. He must have gone crazy, he thought. He had to admit that he found the sleeping girl pretty attractive and it actually scared him a bit since he wasn’t actually the womaniser type. In fact, he was the opposite. He was still young, only 16 years old and didn’t really know how to approach a female. Especially not a trainee. Especially not an YG trainee. Good grief! What did get into him?

No sooner could he finally talk to her than the History class finished and he managed to convince the other boys to go without him.

“You go ahead. I need to ask something from Mr. Nam,” he stated seriously. His friends seemed to take the bait as they both nodded in agreement and leisurely left the classroom.

His heart immediately accelerated when she stood up and started walking towards the entrance door. He froze, not knowing what to do. What would be the most appropriate way to approach her?  Would she even want to talk to him? Oh gosh, what if she wouldn’t? What is he going to do then? He felt numb from the thought of getting rejected, especially by her.

In the end, he had completely thrown his thoughts out of the window and took a step closer to her, causing the girl to literally bump into him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she stammered and flashed him a sheepish smile.

“My mistake,” he raised his arms in defeat, indicating that he was the one who made her run into his arms. Although he apologised, deep down he wasn’t sorry at all. He would definitely love to do it again. “You’re the girl from the MAMA’s, right?” he scratched the back of his neck in an attempt to hide his guilt that he didn’t even know her name.

“Yeah.”

Dayoung nodded and Donghyuck had no idea how he should act like a real men and ask for her name. Nevertheless, she picked up on his hesitance and held out her hand.

“I’m Yu Dayoung,” she said, her rosy-coloured lips slowly curving into a magnificent smile.

When he replied to her handshake, he couldn’t help but grin brashly when he detected how small her hands were compared to his giant, rough ones. Her soft touch brought chills and every of his cells were focused on the intimate skin-ship. He felt like he was being twisted, his mind was screaming that he should finally let her go but his heart was demanding for more.

“I’m Lee Donghyuck.”

“I know that,” he giggled bashfully and her laugh was as warm as the summer sunset.

“I know that you know that.”

“Then, why are you introducing yourself again?” she inquired, her eyebrows slightly raised in question. It was suddenly a different – a more comfortable – image that she was portraying than before but he couldn’t mind it. He decided to play along.

“I was just curious whether you would admit that you already know it or not,” he boosted a so damn proud smile and earned a jittery yet adorable glare from her.

“Okay, you won,” Dayoung flung her arms in the air. “I admit it, I know your name since you debuted with NCT 127.”

“Only since then?” he put his hand over his mouth and acted like he was hurt.

“What is so weird about that? You didn’t even know my name until I said it so.”

“Touché,” he clicked his tongue. She was right and he didn’t feel like arguing with her because it was true that he didn’t know her name. “But you haven’t debuted and I couldn’t ask anyone at the ceremony even if I wanted to,” he tried to justify his reasons and his childish behaviour made her smile like an angel.

Gosh, she was so beautiful. He would never admit it but he had already fallen for her. It started at the award show and today was the evidence that he was already head over heels for her. He couldn’t help; she was like a magnet pulling him closer and closer with every word and glance. He had no idea what was going on because he had never experienced love before but he knew that it was something different. Something peculiar yet something pleasant.

“Are you expecting me to say touché now?” she laughed, her eyes hinting at her gleefulness.

“Well, that would be nice.”

“That wasn’t worth a touché,” she countered but the joy in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. She was obviously amused by the situation and it was so fun because it was all due to the fact that he didn’t know her name.

But after he got to know it, it was never meant to be forgotten again. It was carved into his heart, leaving an unforgettable yet painful stigma. Her name was written all over his body, the syllables tattooed on his skin, the sound of the letters keep playing on and on in his head like an unstoppable cassette player. He was attached to her, once and for all.

How easy it was in the beginning, right? Joking around without being afraid that we might hurt each other’s feelings. Yet, when one starts to care, insouciance is not a definition anymore. We love, we receive love, we hurt and we get hurt. It’s all part of the system, it’s all how it works. It was just a matter of time until we discovered it for ourselves. After that, there was no turning back. We were trapped in the prison that was called ‘love’.

#kreativewritersnet #kpopwritingnet #kkreationsnet #nct fanfic #nct one-shot #nct scenario #nct haechan #nct donghyuck #haechan oneshot #haechan fanfic #haechan scenario #haechan angst #donghyuck angst #donghyuck fanfic #donghyuck scenario #donghyuck oneshot #donghyuck drama #haechan drama #nct dream oneshot #nct dream scenario #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 scenario #nct 127 oneshot #nct dream fanfic #restless_maknae #aff #asianfanfics #my story #paradox

[damienheads]

Florida to Texas

A couple months ago me and a friend I’ve known since school decided to take a road trip across America. Unlike most Brits though, we wanted to try somewhere a little different, so instead of your typical destinations like New York, Las Vegas and California, we chose the deep south - Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas. So just like that, a month and a half after coming up with the idea, we were on our way to the good ole US of A.

Our first stop was Miami, a place we both really wanted to visit. One of the first things you notice about Miami when you get off the plane, is how much Spanish influence there is. Every sign has a Spanish translation underneath, and half the people you hear talking are speaking Spanish. Being Hispanophiles ourselves, we felt right at home. The city itself looked amazing, with beautiful Art Deco style buildings everywhere and a beach that stretched for miles.

We spent the first morning in Miami having a Cuban coffee at a local breakfast joint. From the outside the place looked like a dump, with horrible green looking photos advertising what food they had out the front. However, after closer inspection, we went inside and were pleasantly surprised to find something that looked like it was straight out of a Martin Scorsese film - old school wooden chairs, grainy photos on the wall, and fresh oranges stacked up high on top of a juicer. The coffee was some of the best we’ve both ever had - strong with a touch of sweetness, poured straight into thick, frothy milk. This may sound like a bit of a funny thing to get excited about, but once you try really great coffee, you really never want to go back.

After a day of sightseeing, we then jumped back in the car and headed down to the bottom of Key West, the most southerly point of the US. This part of America is stunning, with beaches everywhere and cool little bars, restaurants and places to visit. A highlight was having my first bowl of acai - a Brazilian dessert made up of berries, nuts, granola, and all sorts of other sweet things, as well as seeing the sun set at one of the few great national parks you can visit there. The remainder of our time spent in Florida, which I could go into great detail with if I didn’t stop myself, included airboating in the Everglades, exploring the Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral, kayaking in the Ocala National Forest, and visiting both Panama city - a place devastated by a hurricane and taken over by bikers - and our last stop, Pensacola - an immaculate looking city with the most amazing beaches and a really cool looking downtown.

After a night of drinking and stepping into one of the blackest looking bars ever - a place that literally looked like it was out of American Gangster - we were back on the road. The first place we hit outside of Florida was a city called Mobile, in Alabama. Clearly built as a predominantly industrial city, this place you could tell had some serious industry, epitomised by the big shipyard you see when you first arrive in the city. Despite not being that attractive on the whole, the place had some really nice doses of Americana if you went down some of the smaller side streets and avenues, as we did. We decided to stop for a bite to eat at one of the many restaurants they had there - a typical American grill type place, as shown above, serving all sorts of southern style dishes. One of the main things you come across when you first eat this kind of food, is what they call ‘biscuit’, which is actually much more like a savoury British scone. Despite the food being pretty tasty, we decided to move on to our next destination.

After briefly passing through Mississippi - our third state in our trip across America - we ended up in New Orleans, Louisiana. Now this place had some serious style. Despite hearing many good things about New Orleans, I really didn’t know much of what to expect from it. You only really fully get the vibe of what is going on in that place when you first start stepping into the main part of the city - people dressing like they’re from the 70′s with bright colours everywhere, bustling streets with palm trees, and a tram system running straight through the middle of it all. The place is fully alive, like an open heart beating away. And the most exciting time to experience all of this is at night on the famous Bourbon street. Part of the French Quarter, Bourbon street has a long history, and is said to be one of the places that Jazz music really developed. After eating the city’s most famous dish, ‘red beans and rice’, we knocked back a few of the city’s most famous drink, the ironically named ‘Hurricane’ - a sweet cocktail made with rum, lemon juice, and passion fruit syrup. After a few of these we were well and truly buzzing. Hopping from bar to bar, and with live music everywhere, we had an amazing time. This was truly a great place to visit.

Our next stop on our tour across America was the big Lone Star State itself, Texas. Our first call was at the city of Houston. One of the first things you notice when arriving in Texas are the massive oil fields and industry which stretch from miles upon miles. This place has some serious industrial might and is said to have an economy $400 billion bigger than that of Russia ($1.7 trillion in total). The city of Houston reflects this massively, with endless amounts of tall buildings, and restaurants on every corner. The place is not the most beautiful up close, but there are some great little places you can go to. We spent our first night eating at a massive Mexican place called ‘Pappasito’s’ just on the edge of the city, and this place was teeming with life, and the food was great also. However, we had bigger plans in mind. The next day we loaded up the car and headed to where we really wanted to go - the shooting range.

Neither of us had ever shot a gun before, however we were both adamant that this is what we wanted to do; we were in Texas after all. Walking into the place for the first time was surreal; pistols, machine guns, rifles and shotguns, all laid up across the walls as if it were a section of Wallmart - this place was legit. After taking a brief lesson by one of the instructors on how to use a gun, we soon found ourselves on the range with an 8mm pistol. Shooting a gun for the first time is a real experience. It gives you a real adrenaline rush. We both managed a few good shots at a paper target, however, within five minutes or so, it was over. Coming back to the desk of the shooting range, we felt like we still had a little more left in us though, and so after a bit of persuading by both the instructors and ourselves, we decided to give the full automatic machine gun a little pop... Jesus christ... This thing was powerful. Firing a single shot was fine, but once you fully let load on this thing, you really feel the blowback. The shots were a little less clean on this one, however that really didn’t matter. After firing a few rounds on one of these, you truly do feel like a big man!

So we were in Texas, had just shot a pistol, and a machine gun; what was the next best thing we could do? - get a tattoo of course! Another first for me; I had never had a tattoo done in my life. After mooching down what seemed like the tattoo street of Houston, with about six different ones all lined up close to each other, we settled upon one run by a nice enough Filipino guy. After telling him what I wanted, and my budget, he not only offered to do it for a reasonable price, but to do the more complicated, original version also. This could have gone either of two ways - really bad or really well. After analysing him a little while, I decided that he was most likely one of these guys who liked the challenge of doing a really good tattoo and didn’t care too much about the money. How right was I. I ended up with something I was really happy with - a copy of the original Gadsden flag. This was something I associated with in a big way; a symbol of resistance from the original thirteen colonies of America when Britain tried to take away their rights and freedoms - such as what is happening currently with the British government trying to keep Britain locked into the anti-democratic EU.

Our last stop in Texas, and last of the trip, was at the city of Austin. I can honestly say that this was the best place I’ve ever visited in America. Like New Orleans, it was buzzing with energy, except in a totally different way - food vans everywhere, crazy looking shops and restaurants, people dressed like cowboys; this place was the real deal. After booking ourselves into the illustrious Red Roof Inn Plus, we decided to go further down town and visit ‘Barton Springs’. Despite the pool area being shut off, this place was beautiful; a river leading into a lake with great little trails on either side. People fishing, cycling, and even kayaking - this was a great little spot to use up some energy and spend some time with nature. One of the first things you notice about this place is how many turtles there are everywhere, either swimming around the river or lodged at the bottom of a tree somewhere. After a bit of swimming and sightseeing, we headed back to the ole Red Roof.

The next day we went right back near the same spot to a food van park. This place had the most amazing food, including Thai, Italian, Mexican, Venezuelan, as well as your traditional American grill and acai bowl place. We both decided on Thai and weren’t disappointed, as we both had the exact same dishes the very next day. We spent that night exploring Austin’s nightlife by going to it’s famous ‘Sixth street’. This place was buzzing in atmosphere, with all sorts of bars and nightclubs to go to. We spent the night playing a game called shuffleboard - a game in which you push a disc across a table as close to the edge as possible - as well as chasing after plenty of girls. Unfortunately, despite getting what we thought was pretty close, we weren’t so lucky - turns out getting four girls from Brooklyn back to your Red Roof Inn Plus ain’t so easy. The next couple days were rather more peaceful, spent chilling and checking out more of Austin’s interesting and vibrant culture before our eventual flight home. It was a great end to what was an amazing trip, and one that I will never forget. God bless you America, god bless you!

[thestylesproject]

#45 Three Days To Love (Harry Styles Series)

Hello guys! 

So, I was so inspired by SNL and soldier Harry that I have written something along those lines. I have so much planned and I'm finally writing again! 

I hope you like this one!  ---

"Are you sure?" She asked me again.

 "Am I sure about what?" I asked packing my bag and finalizing the checklist. 

"Sure that you want to meet him. Sure that he is safe and not some creep!" Her doubts coming to the front.

 "He is not a creep, Ashley! He is in the army and we have both Skyped him, remember?" I laughed. 

"Yeah, 6 months ago though! And once! And you only talked to him so many times and only have corresponded through letters and..." 

"Babe, he is the army. And we have corresponded as closely as we have been able to, whenever he is around, right?" I assured her. 

"Are you sure you want to spend the day and well, the night with him? I mean, we are here on a holiday and you're here with me and that's what your parents know! If you happen to die or something, what will I tell them! That we lied to them and you went to meet your boyfriend, who you are meeting for the first time in a year!" This did sound crazy. 

"I have talked to him for two years now! And we started dating only 9 months ago. We haven't been able to meet because we never were in the same place, you know that. When he was in town, I wasn't and he only comes home for a bit. He is on an off for three days for me and I can't believe my luck that our parents agreed to send us here. I am so ready to meet this guy. I have loved him for a long time and even though our relationship isn't conventional enough and questionable, I really don't care at the moment," I told her. "Do I make sense?"

"Yeah, you do. Okay! Alright...go. But, you're texting me your location all the time. I will be right here. Have a relaxing day, and keep a track of your texts, okay?" She hugged me.

"I promise! Okay, wish me luck!"

---

I sat on one of the benches in the park. I was early, 30 minutes to be exact, but that's just because I didn't want to be late. I was in my best dress, the one I thought I looked nice in at least. It was not too dressy, but not too casual. I was so nervous. In two years, we were meeting for the first time. Taking our friendship to a relationship was a big risk, but we figured that, I wasn't falling for anybody else and he didn't have any other interests except me, so we just fell.  It wasn't strictly planned or asked, it was just said.

 I remember how my friend got me his contact from her boyfriend. I had been cribbing about being lonely forever and, she just proposed this to me. I, intially found it absurd, but having no interest in the guys around me, planned to give this a try. It panned out nicely. I don't think either of us took it too seriously in the beginning. We were just corresponding through hand written letters. But, slowly as the letters increased to topics we both couldn't stay away from, and the months passed, it suddenly just happened. Then came the first call, then skype, exchanging actual photographs of ourselves to talking on call, and taking a deep breath when we heard each other's voice. It was surreal, but also so real. We actually had real conversations through our letters. Not conversations like my friends had about going to gyms or sex, or booty calls or sex, it was so much more. Yes, there were a couple about sex, but they came a lot letter, where I knew I was getting frustrated for sure.

I looked at my phone, switching on the front camera, to check the little makeup I had applied was still there. I tried to play around with my hair, but they were a little long now, and since I never had hair this long, I was not used to experimenting. So, I just left them open, and fixed my dress. I had fifteen minutes left, and I shifted on my seat, keeping my bag close, and fixing my heels, looking around an almost empty park.  In our last call, last night, he texted me the location of where to meet since, he knew this place better. It was so strange, we had each other's number, but we didn't text last night. He had his phone for three days before he had to submit it back, three days with me.

 I was so nervous. I played a song on my IPod, but shut it back down, since I couldn't get myself to concentrate. What if he doesn't come? What if he us a bad guy wanting to kidnap me? No. That's not possible, okay.

I texted Ashley, about how nervous I was, and went through my mails, since I had work to respond to, and it was a good distraction as well.

 "Jade?" I heard his voice, and I stopped typing. I slowly looked up to the man standing next to my bench. I literally, scanned him. From his boots, to his brown checked pants, to the white shirt, unbuttoned a couple from the top, his tattoos peaking through his shirt. His hand, held his coat jacket. He dressed up for me, with a bouquet of white roses, my favorite in his other hand. My eyes traced up, to his full lips, lips I had dreamt of kissing again and again, his lips smiling to show a dimple on his cheek, to his eyes, sparkling green, staring at me in question, a little frown coming up, since I was not responding. 

"I am Jade," I nodded, sitting up straight, and keeping my phone inside my wallet. 

"Am I late?" His voice sounded so much more delicious in person. His accent more prominent than it sounded on call. "I swore I was early," he said.

 "No, no I am just really early," I stood up, standing right in front of him, as his eyes did the same thing to me and I did to him. I noticed how I was shorter than him, trying to remember this height. Our eyes met again, after we had imprinted each other in our brains, and he smiled so wide, and bright.

 "That's good, then," We couldn't say a lot. I was a chatterbox, he still remained quiet. But, somehow the Skype sessions didn't prepare me for this interaction. "I, I...umm, I got you this," he said, giving me the bunch of flowers. 

I took it from him, as gracefully as I could. Trying not to embarrass myself, and I thanked him for it. "You're way beautiful in person than I could ever imagine."

 "Ditto," He smiled. "Is that your bag? Let me take it," he picked it up from the bench and started walking towards the exit of the park with me. "So, umm, like I told you, my aunt has an apartment in this town," 

"Which she doesn't use," I said, remembering our conversation.

"Yes, she doesn't live in town. I got it all ready for us, so umm, we could keep your bag there, and go around town?" He asked.

 "You talk way slower in person, than your calls," I said, looking at him. He was so beautiful. He stopped, a frown coming up, "That's good though, I talk really fast," I laughed. 

"You do, it balances out, I guess. I like you laughing," He said and I blushed. "I think we have a lot of firsts to get through today." 

"Yeah, that is true. I have a habit of saying things on my mind though, I am trying to control it, and am getting better, but it's pretty instinctive," I said, realizing it was the exact thing I was doing. 

"You write what you exactly think as well," He smirked. 

"Are you teasing me?" I giggled. 

"Me? No," He hand my bang on his shoulder, as he took my hand to cross the road. I swear, I felt a spark and we both stopped at the foot path. Our first touch. I tightened my hold around his fingers, and he did the same, looking at me, and then we crossed the road. 

Not letting go of our hands, he explained how the house was right next to the park, in the lane we were walking towards. "Harry?" I asked, stopping a bit. 

"I like you saying my name in person," he said. "What happened?" 

"Nothing, I wanted to say your name in person." 

"Jade," He smiled. "Here we are," we stopped in front of a small house, and climbed up the stairs. He kept my bag down, and still didn't let go of my hand, which made me feel so warm. He opened the door of the house and picked up my bag, as we walked in. 

"Wow, it's a beautiful house," I remarked, as I saw the beautifully furnished apartment. 

"Thank you, my aunt is a home designer. She uses this one as a show piece." 

"You sure we can stay here?" I asked, not wanting to touch anything in this place. 

"Yeah, don't worry. I took permission and everything!" He laughed. He led me inside the house as I saw his muscles flex. It was so weird. When you are with a person you don't notice the little intricacies of the person and, with him I was trying to remember everything and ingrain it. 

"I'm going to keep your bag here," He kept it on a desk. "Do you need anything from it?" I nodded, finally letting go of his hand, noticing we both sighed and then taking out my wallet. "Do you want water?" He asked. I nodded and he went into the kitchen. I quickly texted my location to Ashley, and followed him inside. "There you go," He handed it to me. "I have food planned. Preparations are made, and we'll have dinner at home," He said, looking proud. 

"I'd hope so. You do boast a lot about your cooking," I teased. 

"Soon enough, you'll know why!" I kept the glass in the sink. "Do you want to rest for a bit, or want to go out?"

"Whatever you like," I shrugged. 

"Let's go to the beach?" I nodded and we walked out.                                                                                                                                                                                      He took my hand again, and we walked out the back door. "This is the ideal house," I laughed. For a while we didn't talk just taking each other in, I guess. "I can't believe, I'm here with you," I said after a while. "I'm sorry, I can't stay silent for a long time and I just want to hear your voice," I said.

 He laughed, "and hear you laugh. Hear you shout, scream, get angry, scold, tease, there's so much to do, and we don't have time!" 

"Well, I am glad we don't have that wall to break. I kind of knew you'll take care of the communication gap. We can take off our shoes here."

 "What if someone steals em?" I asked. 

"No one would, really, it's safe." I stepped on the sand, feeling it in my toes, "I like sand," I told him. "When I was young, we had a backyard where my grandma just left this part of the land to play with mud and sand, always saying it gives you character. I loved it! I talk a lot don't I? Tell me when you get annoyed?" I asked, shying away. 

"I don't think that'll happen, Jade. I have waited so long to just hear you talk." He took my hand, again as we walked towards the water. "I love the beach. There is something really calming about it. Want to sit?" I did at once. "I thought, you'll crib about getting your dress dirty," He laughed. I just looked at him, "you aren't really like anyone else, are you?" He said, putting my flick back behind my ear. I put my cheek in his palm, quite instinctually.

"I like your suit." 

"Thank you."

 ---

We spent the afternoon chatting. Somehow I didn't have to think of topics. They just came up and we took it from there. It felt nice to know that, he was the same in person to the guy I was talking to for so long. In the couple of hours, all our boundaries of not knowing each other just fell apart, quite like the Sand we were surrounded in and, we sat close to each other. His fingers playing with my hair, mine playing with his fingers. "Are you hungry?" He asked after a while. 

"Hmm, where are we eating?" I asked. 

"C'mon, get up. We have to walk a bit. There is this nice seafood restaurant here." He knew the things I was allergic to, like shrimps, and how much I loved prawn. He ordered wine, which I knew was his favorite. 

"Oh! I got something for you!" I remembered. "I opened y wallet and took out the little piece. It was a ring. I knew he liked wearing them, whenever he could. 

"Hey! Where did you find this from?" He asked, shocked.  

"Is it similar to the one you had?" I asked. 

"Yeah! It's so similar. Thank you, Jade," He looked at me with a look of such adoration in his eyes, I swore, I was all puddle inside. We ate food, talking about his childhood and mine, and so much more which just added to one another.��

"I am paying," I told him, as he called for our checks. His thumb was brushing my collarbone, "you're making me dizzy," I told him. 

"Really?" He smiled. "We are splitting, come here," He said trying to take the bill from me. 

"No! You are making dinner, and I want to spend on you." 

"Why can't we split. C'mon, let's split. We ordered a bottle, listen to me!" He said, and I couldn't help rejoice the tone. 

"Are we having our first argument, Mr. Styles?" I asked, cheekily. 

"In person, yes." He said, distracted by my smile. 

"I've paid though," I said, shrugging. He frowned, leaning back. 

"Not fair, Jade," he huffed, I came forward, showcasing my chest as his eyes shifted, and kissed his cheek, slowly, relishing this moment.

"Deal with it, Mr. Styles," I whispered in his ears. His hands climbed up and held my hair in a fist, pulling my face, directly in front of him. His eyes shifted to my lips, as I gulped.

 "Your bill, Ma'am," The waiter called and, we sat up.

--- PART 2

Please tell me if you liked it and what do you think about it! It will mean a lot. Thank you so much and I love Harry so much.

Comments?

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Copyright ©theStylesproject 2017: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS WORK CONTAINS MATERIAL PROTECTED UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND FEDERAL COPYRIGHT LAWS AND TREATIES. NO PART OF THIS WORK MAYBE REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM theStylesproject.

#Harry Styles #Harry S #harry #harrystyles #harrystylesfanfiction #harrystyles harry #harrystylesimagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #sign of the times #signofthetimes #ever since New York #eversincenewyork #45 #thestylesproject #harrystylesmatureimagines #harry styles mature one shot #harry styles mature imagines #harry styles dunkirk #dunkirk #soldierharry #smut #harry styles smut #harry smut #love #letters #friendship #newsingle #snl

[othercat2]

fic: (they flow from form to form) 10/?

==>Karkat: be the knight errant; meet an abdicated Heiress

Karkat has a lot to think about on the way home. Finally being able to go home, (not being able to get away from the weirdness). Weird cult politics backed by history and feuds Karkat knew nothing about, that he and his Dad have been dragged into. Unspeakable horrors living outside of time and space who apparently want to marry him. (Sympathetic possible future co-Spouses welcoming him to the happy polyamorous fold.) Questions were answered, but they led to more questions that weren’t.

Space runs beside the bicycle and lets him think. She let the Spouses do most of the talking, content to rest Her head on Osiris’ shoulder while he and Kanaya answered questions. Eventually, She had retreated to Her dog form, and Karkat and Kanaya had played keep away and tag while Osiris played cheerleader. After the games, there was some more talking, Osiris and Kanaya teaching him remedial magic. (Osiris offered to be Karkat and Dad’s main magical teacher and Karkat found himself agreeing to talk to his dad about it.)

It’s early evening when he heads home. The ride home is uneventful except for glimpses of the crow, coasting from tree to tree. (He isn’t sure if the crow is watching him, guarding him, or just hanging out.) When he gets home and puts up his bike Space flickers into Her girl-shape with dog ears. “I had fun,” She says, Her attitude strangely shy. “Did you?”

Karkat doesn’t have to think about what to say. “Yeah, I did.”

She smiles, and it’s a little too wide, a little too pointy, but at the same time endearing. She swoops in and kisses him on the cheek. “Good! I’m glad!” She backs away, and vanishes in a flicker of bright green.

Dad is making dinner when Karkat gets inside. Dinner is barley lentil soup; mom’s recipe. “Hey kid,” Dad says. “You were out for a little longer than expected. I called your phone.”

“It turned out to be a picnic date and meet the brother-sister spouses,” Karkat says. He takes out his phone and sees that yes, Dad called and left a message. “Sorry I didn’t think to call.”

Dad is equal parts worried and curious. “Picnic date, huh?” He asks questions about the date, about what Karkat learned from Kanaya and Osiris. He doesn’t get any less worried, but the near-panic Karkat had been picking up seems lessened. “Ms. Pyrope has also offered to help with instruction,” Dad says when Karkat mentions Osiris offer. “I’d be willing to talk to him. Give me a minute to get my phone out.”

“Okay,” Karkat says. He gives Dad Osiris’ phone number.

Dad talks about his day, talks about getting back to school and asks Karkat if he’s ready to get back to school. Karkat doesn’t know how to answer the question. If he goes back to school, it’s going to be weird, he’s going to stick out even more than he had been already. The cult kids are going to know about him, and act accordingly. The “Outsider” kids are going to know something is up with him, and will act accordingly. He says as much to Dad.

“It’s only a few more weeks until school lets out,” Dad says. “It’s up to you if you want to finish out the year or keep being sent school work.”

“I don’t know,” Karkat says. “I need to think about it. I need to know how people are going to act around me.”

“Maybe give it a day or two, and then decide?” Dad suggests.

Karkat shrugs. “I guess we could try that,” he says.

They talk over dinner (Karkat isn’t really hungry, but he has half a bowl of the soup), Dad talking about things he’s learned from skimming the binders, about the crow which apparently made a few attempts at getting inside. (Dad: “At one point I could have sworn I was having an actual argument with it. A very limited in vocabulary argument, but an argument nonetheless; crows are intelligent but I don’t think they’re that intelligent.” Karkat: “That one probably is though.”) They talk about the possibility of “magic lessons,” and make lame, nervous jokes about whose houses they’d be sorted into if they were at Hogwarts. They talk about Sollux coming over to make whatever modifications necessary to the computer. (Dad: “I mostly spoke to his father, who mentioned that the cult apparently has its own instant messenger, which is apparently also going to be installed. It’s called ‘Pesterchum.’”)

The talk continues after dinner, with Karkat talking about things he learned while at Karen’s house, and Dad asks questions. Karkat can hear the worry going on in his Dad’s head. He doesn’t mention it. He wonders if Dad can see what’s going on in his head. If Dad can, he doesn’t mention it either. They end up watching a movie, and eventually go to bed.

Karkat dreams restless dreams about school, which for some reason is happening at the cave-temple. He goes to classes in vast chambers lit with lanterns, and sits at weird, elaborately carved desks that are inlaid with strange symbols in gold that are warm to the touch. History, Math, English and then he goes to lunch where Nepeta, who he’s only spoken to a couple times, is trying to get him to audition for the part of Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons. He would apparently be purrfect for the part because it was in his Blood.

“And they both lose their head,” a boy in blue with dark hair and an overbite says cheerfully. His eyes are a brilliant blue behind His glasses. “Hi Karkat!”

“Are we talking literal losing of heads here?” Karkat asks warily. “Or perfectly legitimate if figurative going ballistic losing of heads?”

“A little from column A, a little from column B?” the boy suggests. “But mostly in a historical sense. Blood has a temper and strong feelings about right and wrong.”

“And Breath talks in riddles?” Karkat asks. “Because I have no idea of what you’re talking about.”

“Actually I’m pretty plain,” Breath says solemnly. “I like to watch the clouds gather rain.”

“That sounds…weirdly familiar,” Karkat says.

Breath grins, wide and sharp. “You asked a lot of questions today.”

“Is that a problem?” Karkat asks.

“No, no, questions are good. But there are questions you didn’t ask,” Breath says.

“And you’re going to fill me in?” This was not at all likely; Karkat knew that much from previous conversations. (What he could remember of them; they had been surreal and about 90% bullshit.)

“Nope!” Breath says cheerfully. “I’m sending you on a quest, instead!”

“A quest,” Karkat says flatly. “Any rings you want thrown into volcanoes? Blue omnipotent rocks to be found?”

“Nah,” Breath says. “This is easy: talk a dragon out of her cave, and learn the answer to the question you didn’t ask.”

“Well, that makes about as much sense as anything else you’ve said,” Karkat says. Then he takes a quick step backward because Breath is very much in his personal space bubble, breathing his air. He’s surprised and not very surprised at all when Breath pulls him in and kisses him on the mouth. Karkat freezes for a moment, then relaxes, returns the kiss.

It’s different than kissing Time (of course it’s different). Time had been contained, barely. He had wanted to explain, give Karkat at least the appearance of some room, the option to explore.  Breath for lack of a better word bubbles. He’s happy and pleased with Himself and isn’t really holding back. Karkat gets this impression of wind, the world from high up; a spinning, dropping sensation that feels more real than the sensation of being kissed (which he’s also dreaming). He should be frightened, he should be very frightened, but what he gets is this sharp high line of pleasure that runs through him and shatters the dream into bits and leaves him gasping and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Shit,” he says, and blinks. “Holy fucking shit stubs. And there’s a wet spot. Jesus.”

He’s almost afraid to look, but it’s the pretty normal result of a wet dream, not weird ichor or wet squidgy frog eggs or anything. (In the back of his head there’s laughing that Karkat chooses to ignore.) He needs to take a shower, and maybe wash--or possibly burn--his sheets and pajamas. It’s about five a.m. which is about when Dad usually gets up. Right on time, he can hear Dad’s alarm go off.

The morning is very awkward. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to think about it. He really, really doesn’t want to share. Dad knows there’s something up, but he doesn’t pry. (This is a relief.) Breakfast is quiet and Dad goes to work. Karkat pokes at his school work and washes his laundry and pajamas. It’s an ordinary day, except for everything else being weird.

Dad texts him about noon:

Hey kiddo. You were kind of quiet this morning. You okay?

YEAH I’M OKAY. I UH. HAD A WEIRD NIGHT.

If there’s anything you need to talk about, you know you can come to me, right?

Karkat stares at the screen for a moment. His face heats up. He really, really hopes that that’s just a general offer, and not because Dad heard anything last night. I KNOW, he types back.

Just wanted to remind you. Have you thought about coming back for the last couple of weeks of school?

He hadn’t really, but: I THINK I WILL. EVEN IF IT’S WEIRD IT WILL FEEL MORE NORMAL THAN JUST BEING AROUND THE HOUSE INSTEAD OF IN CLASS.

Mr. Captor and his son will be coming over this afternoon after school to make the upgrades to the computer and install “pesterchum.” We’ll order pizza.

OKAY.

Sollux and his Dad Mituna arrive at the house at the same time Dad does. Mituna Captor is tall and dark, with black curly hair and a weird, twisting scar with branches like lightning that covers most of his face and neck. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt for a local band. His eyes are the same hazel-and-pale blue that Osiris and Sollux’s are.

(Dad wants to know about the scar. And maybe stares a little too much because Mituna says, “I am totally Harry Potter.” Dad apologizes, a little embarrassed, and Mituna laughs at him.)

Sollux and Mituna take apart Dad’s computer and Karkat’s laptop and start making updates to the computers. Some of the updates look perfectly normal others…not so much. (Little bees made of circuitry and wire, an ordinary piece of wood with lettering in what looked like gold nail polish, other, weirder things.) Dad asks questions, and then asks questions about the answers he receives.

“You’re running Windblows?” Mituna says when he boots up Dad’s computer. “You should let me put my custom o/s on it, it’s fucking awesome.”

“I’m fine with Windows, Mr. Captor,” Dad says.

“No but seriously, you could do so much better,” Mituna says. “And you totally suck at pronouncing ‘Mituna,’ man.” He grins.

Dad hesitantly returns the grin with a smile of his own. “Mituna,” Dad says.

“Awesome. So anyway, about my o/s--”

Dad and Mituna argue back and forth about the o/s. It’s good humored, and the conversation wanders to Dad asking questions about Mituna, his family, what he does for a living, those kinds of questions. Mituna does IT work for the town government, manages a database project for the Temple that Sollux helps with. “When he isn’t planning the robot uprising with that Zahhak kid.”

“I’ll totally be rewarded by our future robot overlords for my programming skills,” Sollux says as he installs PesterChum on Karkat’s laptop. “I will raise citadels of forbidden knowledge in cyberspace.”

[cephalopodCantor (CC) is pestering carcinoGeneticist (CG)!]

CC: hey

CC: hey kid

CC: you on yet?

CG: NEW PHONE WHO DIS?

CC: Pfft

CC: Meenah Peixes

CC: Fef’s big sister

CG: THE RAPPER

CC: Yeah the rapper.

CC: So I hear from my kid sister that there’s Blood in town and she don’t mean the gang.

CC: Though that would be kinda hilariously awful. Z Grade horror movie awful. I would watch the fuck out of it.

CC: Anyway I heard you got introduced to shitty Temple politics, and then whoops you’re Blood and the Gods like-like you.

CC: And I said, “I gotta meet this motherfucker.”

CG: WELL, CONSIDER ME MET THEN.

CG: WOULD YOU LIKE MY AUTOGRAPH? CAN I GET YOURS? MAYBE WE CAN DO AN AUTOGRAPH EXCHANGE.

CC: Heh. I’d totally do that kid, if I thought you were serious. Which I think maybe not.

CC: You got handed a shit deal, and it’s kinda my fault.

CC: Well okay, pretty much actually is my fault.

CC: Because politics.

CC: So I kinda feel obliged to check up on you.

CG: THAT’S NICE OF YOU I GUESS?

CG: I’M SURE SOMETHING WEIRD WOULD HAVE HAPPENED ANYWAY IF THE GODS LIKE-LIKED ME AND YOU WERE THE HIGH PRIESTESS OR WHATEVER INSTEAD.

CC: …

CC: Something weird yeah, but less with the almost dying because fucked up bullshit

CC: Christ.

CG: CAN I ASK A QUESTION?

CC: Shoot

CC: You can ask all the questions

CC: I can be your Eldritch Horrorpedia

CG: IF YOU LEFT BECAUSE OF FUCKED UP BULLSHIT. WHY’D YOU LEAVE YOUR KID SISTER?

CC: Shit.

CC: Blood don’t pull punches does it

CG: SORRY.  

CC: Nah it’s good

CC: Okay look

CC: Some bitch angling for my and Fef’s Dad convinced my Mom to run away from home when she got pregnant with me.

CC: Mom lived with me Outside til I was like eight and someone from town caught up with her and convinced her to come home.

CC: So for me, it’s fucked up bullshit that I mostly don’t give a fuck about except when I have to.

CC: It ain’t fucked up to her, even though Gramma Foster gave her a whole lot of Outside ideas

CC: Great-Gran preferred me for a lot of dumb reasons, but I was just waiting for my majority to get the fuck out

CC: Which I did

CC: Feferi knew what I was planning before anyone else did and was mad as hell about it

CC: Because she had her own thing she wanted, but she was okay with me going even though I was leaving a mess behind

CG: SHE SAID YOU’D BURN THE TOWN DOWN IF YOU CAME BACK

CC: Hell yes

CC: Those motherfuckers need to come out into the light of day

CC: And stop hiding shit under bushel baskets

CG: WHAT ABOUT THE WHOLE CURSE THING?

CC: Freedom of religion is a thing that actually exists, so fuck the curse

CG: BUT THE CURSE LITERALLY DRIVES PEOPLE CRAZY?

CC: Lots of things literally drive people crazy

CC: Wouldn’t believe the number of folks thinking they’re talking to the Virgin Mary

CC: Or think they are the Virgin Mary

CC: …

CC: Don’t tell Gramma Foster I said that

CC: I won’t ever hear the end of it

CC: Anyway, you want any help or advice, or questions answered, you can ask me.

CG: OTHER PEOPLE HAVE BEEN OFFERING TO HELP ANSWER QUESTIONS. OR TEACH.

CC: Yeah well, it’s a thing. I mean it’s more of thing with you since you’re kinda an Outsider. Who’s being offering?

CG: WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?

CC: Cuz I can maybe help you find someone who is not gonna be a dumbass, that’s why.

CG: MR. CAPTOR SENIOR, MS. PYROPE, YOUR KID SISTER A LITTLE, YOUR GRAMMA.

CC: Si is Good People; the Captors are in general pretty cool. Latula is great and in charge of the restricted section at the library. Gramma Foster has that Outsider perspective thing.

CC: Fef’s cool, but please stop with the teasing cuz she’s been blowing up my phone.

CG: NO PROMISES.

CG: ANYONE I SHOULD AVOID?

CC: Good question

CC: I’m biased, but maybe the Megidos. You can probably get a better idea of the factions and who to avoid from Feferi.

CG: OKAY

CC: Cool. If you got any other questions, you can pester me anytime.

[cephalopodCantor (CC) is no longer pestering carcinoGeneticist (CG)!]

Notes:

--Yes, Breath is misquoting Blind Melon.

--The blue rock mention refers to Edding's Belgariad and also the Elenium, which both feature omnipotent blue rocks.

--I made a slight reference to another fic featuring Eldritch Horrors. (Of a more traditionally Lovecraftian bent.)

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#homestuck #eldergodstuck #fan fic #karkat vantas