#most likely because i had unfinished business which was REPLYING TO THIS am I exaggerating IDK SORRY IT JUST

[mythvoiced]

Yeo walks toward Shin with an air of nonchalance, the one he uses to pretend he’s being casual. Getting closer, he takes out an item from his pocket. He doesn’t look into Goblin’s eyes, for he might fail at being smooth with his actions if he does so; hands latching a gold-coated brooch with the shape of a cherry blossom branch onto the lapel of Dokkaebi’s coat. Tapping his chest twice, Yeo nods and pulls away. “For the flowers. A fox can’t accept gifts without giving something in return.”

@jeoseungsaja | PlEaSE call everY emerGEncy number yOU KNOW, because I am NOT OKAY-

---

There is a moment, small as it may be, that feels oceans too large and oceans too deep and oceans too... terrifying. When he sees the fox approach, his reaction is the usual. He wipes the smile off his face because he can’t be this obvious, because perhaps his heart feels as though they aren’t quite somewhere yet where he’s been given that extra consent that would make adoring gazes okay to express, that would perhaps allow him to look at the gumiho as he always feels about him.

Then, though, he sees the avoidance in the other’s features. There’s a terrifying moment there, a deep moment of understanding as it also morphs into, and a moment that stretches in time because of the breath he’s holding, at watching Yeo avoid his gaze. It’s odd, but perhaps also a good thing, to feel this much worry at having eye contact between them avoided.

He can’t think of a reason more fitting behind this than some of his bolder actions: this might be the moment the fox reveals that perhaps it is safer for them to return to their own sides of this particular line they’re walking. For the flash of a second, concern regarding his well-being flashes too, but he walks normally, his features - radiant, sharp, one should perhaps get to inventing a word that could describe his beauty, not beauty like his, his - are devoid of scratches and he can’t see blood splattered anywhere, at least not in that brief moment.

So the other worry reigns superior, all still in this small moment, and Shin shields himself, his chest remains still with the rest of his body, his features try to portray nothing and at the same time understanding, seeming to achieve only the usual sadness painted on still features he’s known for. This, until the fox moves, the fox’s hand moves.

The former general watches with growing curiosity and eyes how he moves, and that’s all that he’s moving on his end, his facial muscles, and his chin, as he tries to lower his head and follow Yeo’s actions to their end, all the way to the presence of his hand near his chest - he hitches, a little, there, he knows he’s not going for it, but these are the two things that make up his core nowadays, the sword in his chest, and the man who holds his heart, to see them so narrowly fail brushing against each other does things to a soul.

He remains silent, with those child-like eyes he sometimes turns into such, when they’re so wide, even when Yeo pulls away, and his gaze doesn’t, enchanged by the brooch attached to his coat. He reaches up to it, brushes careful fingers slowly against it, unbothered by the slight tremble in them, the tremble typical of someone trying their hardest to not move too brashly, to not accidentally destroy what they’d like to touch. It’s a little warm, probably because it had been kept close to the body of the gifter.

And it’s intricate, much like the gifter’s soul. And it’s golden, much like the gifter’s heart. And it is far too beautiful, for the dokkaebi... much like the gifter’s... all. He does look up, as his hand leaves the brooch and subconsciously brushes the spot he’d been tapped on, an odd sensation considering what all his chest holds, but also pleasant, enough to make him smile like that, giddy, in a way, far too young, just because Yeo had touched him, because it’d been casual, because he hadn’t held back. “Ah, of course,” he nods, but the smile on his lips is knowing, and a bit lopsided, as if he’s trying to keep it in, or at least control the full intensity of it. His eyes narrow a little, because they can’t hold their joy back either.

Oh. When did his hand reach the brooch again? Doesn’t matter, he’ll gladly keep his fingers on it. He’ll gladly keep it forever. “How foolish of me. It’s beautiful,” his hand drops again, this time fully, retreats into the pocket of his coat it had come out of, because otherwise it might reach out and drag its twin along with it, in the direction of the treasure of amber before him.

“Thank you,” and if he speaks slightly more hushed, as if minding a sacred place, or declaring his love, well... Then... It’s only right so.

#jeoseungsaja #the goblin;kim shin #a drop of red is it the wounds in your soul or the bright fox heritage on your head;verse 4 wang yeo #the length of my life becomes apparent when i realise how much of it we spent apart;verse 4 wang yeo & kim shin #REPLIED THIS ROUTE THIS TIME I HOPE THAT'S OKAY? FELT THE FORMAT would turn out prettier rather than in a text post #THANK YOU SO HECKING much for sending this oh goodness OH GOODNESS WHEN I FIRST READ IT I THINK I?? #GENUINELY DIED? A WHOLE MOMENT?? YES I'M POSITIVE I DIED?? suddenly returned to the living b #most likely because i had unfinished business which was REPLYING TO THIS am I exaggerating IDK SORRY IT JUST?? #Pardon but I WILL keep this brooch LIKE Shin? going anywhere? WITHOUT IT?? heresy-- #did i pick that gif taking into consideration the tears in his eyes? mAIS OUI- #;queue

[parkersbliss]

Fourteen | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x female reader

warnings: blood, death, angst, torture(?), crooked kingdom spoilers

wc; 2.5K

synopsis: some things are better left unsaid. you learned that the hard way.

prompts: 003: I’ll never love you 010: I just want the pain to stop 017: “Just tell me that you love me! Please…”

a/n: I uh… sorry in advance? I just read a heartbreaking story before this so now there’s this

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Decisions, decisions.

They weren’t easy to make, but they had to be.

It was one or nothing.

Make a choice, or you get neither.

Perhaps, not making a choice is better in this case, but you already know what the decision is.

It’s clear in your mind, and though you don’t want it to be, you’re not naive.

The world was cruel. It didn’t care for mercy.

Mercy was a luxury in Ketterdam. It was a luxury no one could afford.

Most things were unaffordable in Ketterdam, but you stayed anyway. You could leave, could’ve. Past tense. It was too late now.

And yet, you didn’t.

You stayed for the boy in the coat with a troubled past. You stayed for the hope.

Of course, you paid the price now. Mercy was expensive enough, but hope… hope simply didn’t exist. Surviving Ketterdam was a matter of kill or be killed, which is not an exaggeration. Knives are at your throat every day, and if you don’t make the choice to grab them and put them in the enemy's eyes, then you don’t survive to see the next blood bath.

For some people, that might be a relief, but others had unfinished business. The people in Ketterdam were driven by two things: money and revenge.

Both sweet and hard to retrieve, but to some, it was worth it. Every casualty was worth it if it meant getting what they wanted.

“Be ruthless, and don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do.”

Even now, you could still hear his voice in your head. At the time, it was good advice. You hadn’t expected it to be used against you.

“You should have no attachment to anything, and especially anyone. You have to be willing to let them go.”

That should’ve been the first sign. You had regarded his words with a grain of salt. You didn’t realize the meaning behind them because you thought he could learn to grow out of it. He didn’t really mean that.

Everyone says things they don’t mean in an attempt to seem stronger.

Everyone was lying.

Lies, lies, lies.

Oh, how everyone lied.

Just like how Kaz lied. He did that a lot, but never in a way that would hurt any of his crows. At least, you had thought.

“It’s a simple plan,” Kaz said, laying out the blueprints on the table. “Jesper, you will come in from this entrance, Inej and (Y/N), the roof, and I will come through the back.”

It was just the three of you.

Matthias… you didn’t speak of him. It was too sensitive of a topic. Well, it had been for Nina, at least, but then she left to return home to Ravka.

And there wasn’t a need to not speak of it, but you had all gotten used to it. Some things were better left unsaid.

Wylan was out on business, though he didn’t speak of what. Inej was often gone to traversing the seas. When she returned home, Kaz always planned the biggest heists. She was the best one here.

Jesper was still Jesper, young as ever, but that’s the plus of being Grisha. Most days, he was with Wylan, salvaging what time they had left.

Though it was plenty.

Which left you with Kaz a lot of the time. It wasn’t a bad thing, but spending too much time with someone is dangerous.

But you were drawn to him like that of a moth to the flame. Maybe it was an effort to try and fix his broken parts because you couldn’t fix your own.

You would learn soon enough Kaz didn’t want to be fixed. There was only one person that could do that.

It wasn’t you.

It never would be.

“What about the guards?” Jesper inquired, leaning against the polished wood.

“Two shots is all you’ll need. He doesn’t keep it heavily guarded,” Kaz replied.

“What if there are more?” You asked. “I doubt Black doesn’t have a few personal.”

Kaz glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “There won’t be more,” he spat. “Don’t question me.”

You wince at his tone, mumbling a sorry under your breath and letting your gaze slide to your boots.

“Jesper takes out the guards, I’ll take out any extra, and Inej and (Y/N) will head straight for the safe room. Then, Jesper will stand guard while I keep Black at bay with a deal he can’t refuse. Inej will pull the fire alarm, and then we run.”

“Will we have enough time between here and the exit?” Inej asked, using her finger to trace the space between the safe room and the central doorway. “I don’t think it’ll work, Kaz. You won’t have enough time.”

Kaz doesn’t lash out at her. His eyes linger on her face, drawing all the features he already knows in his mind. He’d memorized them before she left so that he could see her in his dreams. He did not want to forget her.

“You’re right,” He said softly, like a hushed whisper between them. An intimate moment that you shouldn’t be a witness to. “Is there a window nearby?”

“There’s one here.”

“Can you get out that way?”

You don’t bother to call him out when he only asks Inej when it’s the two of you that need to escape.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll count in my head. You have exactly 130 seconds to get in and out.”

“Understood.”

Kaz nods, satisfied, and rolls up the blueprints and tucks them under his arm. “Be here at midnight, sharp. I’m looking at you, Jesper.”

The said boy winks, “Wouldn’t miss it, boss.”

“You would,” Inej quipped.

“Well, guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Jesper.”

“Fine. Midnight sharp.”

Kaz exits the room after that, Inej trailing after him and Jesper swings his revolvers around, instantly drawn to a gambling crowd.

That would occupy him until midnight.

You stand at the empty table, feeling just that. It was lonely.

What used to be six felt more like three, someday two. If you were lucky, four.

“Kaz,” You muttered. “When was the last time you slept?”

He shrugs. “Am I supposed to keep track?”

“Yes.”

He exhales, gripping his desk before meeting your eyes. His face softens. “I don’t know.”

“Kaz-”

He holds a hand up. “I know, I know. Coffee isn’t sufficient enough to keep me awake.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you know, why do you still do it?”

“It’s addictive,” he hums.

“Addiction is bad.”

“Is it?” Kaz inquired, grabbing a stack of Kruge off his desk and flipping through it. “Addiction drives us all. It’s the root of every being.”

“So what?” You snorted. “Your addiction is coffee?”

Kaz falls back into his leather seat. “Greed is my addiction. I supposed coffee as well. What’s yours?”

“You,” You breathe out. The answer had slipped from your lips with such ease. You didn't even notice.

Kaz freezes, his pen staggers in the middle of a signature.

“To be like you,” You add for good measure.

“That’s impossible.”

“So is living off coffee.”

“Then it seems we are both at an impasse.”

“It would seem so.”

Kaz’s gaze lingers on you, making your heart pound madly in your chest. “Then let’s come to an agreement.”

“What do you propose?”

“I will attempt to get a good night’s sleep if you try to be yourself.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake. You grab it, making sure it’s quick, but when you try to pull back, Kaz grips it and pulls you towards him.

“And for the record, you are my addiction as well.”

“Me?”

“To be more like you.”

He lets go after that, and you’re unsure if he’s mocking you or if he’s serious.

“Have a goodnight, (Y/N).”

“You too, Kaz.”

Jesper isn’t late. He makes it on time. Courtesy of Kaz grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging him away from the gambler’s table.

“Do we need to review?” Kaz asked.

You all shake your heads.

“Good because I wasn’t going to.”

Kaz turns sharply on his heels and walks into the Ketterdam night. It’s no different from the day, in fact, the night is more lively. It was better for thieves and mischief. The shadows were in their favor here. The people part for the basted of the barrel; it’s common knowledge to them. They don’t think twice about it; they just move.

It makes for a quick walk to the Mercher’s house.

Jesper takes the front, Kaz the back, and Inej throws you a rope to get onto the roof. Her footsteps are silent as she looks for a way in. She finds a latch on one of the windows and calls you over.

You were always better at picking locks than her. She was better on her feet, and though Kaz tried to teach her, he had gotten fair luckier with you.

In a few clicks, the latch pops open and Inej dives in. You wait for her to clear it before dropping in. You’re not as stealthy as the wraith.

Inej was one of a kind.

You land with a soft thump, both of you waiting five seconds before making any kind of movement. Inej cracks open the door, a stream of light filling the room.

It’s empty. There's nothing except cold, bare walls and a plush rug in the center.

It doesn’t appear to be in use.

Oddly enough, it looks like it’s waiting for someone or something.

Inej taps your shoulder, using your head to gesture to the hallway. You follow after her, staying pressed up against the walls just in case.

But there’s no one; the house is eerily quiet. There are no servants, no guards, and no wife or children. You didn’t know much about Black, other than the fact that he was a wealthy merchant. He mostly kept to himself. Sometimes you’d see him at The Crow Club. He was a cold and calculated man, every move he made was planned out ten in advance.

You could tell by the way he played his cards.

“It should be right about here,” Inej said, opening the door.

At the same thing you can hear Kaz’s voice, slight panic evident. “What did you-,”

As you open the door, your legs are being kicked in, and you drop to the floor next to Inej. Two guards from behind you are quick to bound your hands together as you both push against them.

Black tuts, laughing at the fear on Kaz’s face.

Poor Jesper was knocked out on the floor at his feet.

“Did you really think you could outsmart me?” Black asked, “The power is getting to your head.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything, but his nostrils flare in anger.

“Take them,” Black dismissed, clearly speaking to the guards. “Put… Brekker in a room with the girl, not the Suli one. And put the Zemeni boy and her together.”

The guards nod, roughly seizing you all. Inej shouts in protest, trying to hit them, but she’s unsuccessful.

Kaz grunts when they lay his hands on him, but he obeys because he knows it’ll be worse if he doesn’t. They throw you and Kaz into the room you dropped into earlier. They put you back to back, and you know it’s for Kaz because he hisses every time your hand's brush.

You try not to move as much as possible because it pains you each time you hear it.

Black strolls in a moment later, leaning against the door. He wears a satisfied smirk when you and Kaz glare at him.

“Confess.”

“What?” Kaz said with a snarl.

Black holds a knife between two fingers, spinning it. “Confess something. Your deepest, darkest secret, and maybe you’ll make it out with all your limbs. The Suli girl was quick to do so, and naturally, I’m curious what you two have to offer.”

“What did she say?” Kaz asked.

“Well, maybe if yours is just as good, I’ll tell you.”

“What if it’s not interesting?”

Black pretends to think about it for a moment before throwing the knife at you. You scream when it lands itself in your leg.

Kaz flinches, hard, screwing his eyes shut.

“That,” Black taunts. “So, confession time.”

When neither of you says anything, he grabs another knife. It’s only then that you notice their Inej’s. He had at least twelve more.

“I-,” Kaz starts, but he chokes on his words. They never make it out of his mouth and Black raises his dagger.

“I’m in love with Kaz,” You blurt.

The said boy stiffens against you.

Black lowers his dagger. “Now that is juicy.”

“I’ve been in love with him since we were fourteen," You whisper, letting your head fall. It was good to get it off your chest, but you'd prefer to not have a knife sticking out of you when doing so.

“Brekker?” Black inquired. “Reply?”

Kaz doesn’t say anything.

Black rolls his eyes, tossing another knife at you, and a muffled sob leaves your lips.

“I’ll keep going.”

“Kaz, say something, pl-”

Another one, this time your stomach. You cry out, thankful that at least they’re keeping the blood from rushing out.

“These things are so fun,” Black said. “Where ever did she get them?”

More knives are thrown your way each minute Kaz doesn’t say anything. You feel like a pin doll, except alive and with knives sticking out of you.

Many knives because Kaz couldn’t open his damn mouth.

“I just want the pain to stop,” You sob, unknowingly letting your head fall on his shoulder. You’re exhausted, your body is exhausted as it fights the intrusion. It’s a losing battle. “Kaz, please.”

“I can’t.”

“Just tell me that you love me, please!” You’re begging at this point. You just want to hear those words, even when you know they aren’t true. You knew they weren’t true the moment the third knife landed itself.

“Give the girl what she wants, Brekker. Or the other one gets it.”

“I’ll never love you,” Kaz said, milliseconds after Black had threatened Inej. Somehow, that hurts more than the fourteen knives sticking out of you.

“Don’t touch her,” Kaz shouts when Black backs out of the room.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

Black smiles. “Well, today is your lucky day. That was her confession as well. Since you two are so cute together, I’ll let you leave. All limbs intact.”

“What?” Kaz asked.

Black walks over to you, grabbing the knife from your stomach and pulling it out roughly as you cry.

“Oh yes,” He said, “You two - three - I forgot about the Zemeni boy,” He cuts Kaz’s ties. He’s quick to be on his feet and away from the contact.

“You can leave, you can live out the rest of your lives happily.”

“Three?”

Blood rushes from your open wound. He had nicked an artery when drawing it out. You were somehow thankful for that because at least death came quicker.

It came in fourteen agonizing seconds.

It came knowing that Kaz never loved you. He never cared. And he would sacrifice anything and anyone for Inej.

You were just the first.

Addiction will kill you. You just proved it right.

“My bad,” Black apologizes. “You and the Suli girl can love each other for as long as the saints may deem, but just know, you made that choice.”

“I didn’t choose anything.”

“You did, Brekker. I’ll leave the guilty conscience to you, Dirtyhands.”

The name stings Kaz more than it usually did.

“You chose Inej,” Black said simply. “And you’ll pay the price. And do send me an invite to the wedding.”

Black is gone before Kaz can do anything, and when he looks to you.

You’re already dead.

And he wonders what the lasts words you heard were.

If it was up to him, he would’ve said: I love you too.

— END —

🏷 Kaz taglist: @kaqua

want to be added? click here!

#side note!! #kaz is NOT in love with you #he just wanted to say that to make reader happy #:((( #f in chat lads #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #soc kaz #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker fic #soc #six of crows #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #sab

[peggingtaron]

Belle & Edward

Pairing: Edward x Belle (Edward Scissorhands x Beauty & The Beast crossover)

Summary: Belle, with a dreamy far off look and a nose stuck in a book, is isolated from the common folk that judge her, and dissatisfied with her life in the small suburban town. Upon exploring the old abandoned castle, far off from the town, she discovers a boy with scissors as hands, living his life all these years in the ancient shadows of the castle. A scissor-handed boy named Edward.

•

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I started writing this on wattpad when I was 16 so excuse the occasional cringe

Chapter 1 — Little Town

Once upon a time, by a little town, there was a mansion. In that mansion lived an Inventor. The Great Inventor made many odd contraptions, spectacular devices and wonderful gadgets. But none so odd, none so spectacular and none so wonderful than his creation of a man. He gave him inside, a heart, a brain, everything. Well, almost everything...

The Inventor was old, so very old. He died before he got to finish the man he invented. So the man was left by himself with scissors as hands...Incomplete and all alone.

His name was Edward.

Edward had spent years, alone, isolated in the shadows of the deserted castle as dust and cobwebs collected around him. He knew, in his unfinished state that he would spend all his days without anyone's company. Forever in solitude. Forever desolate.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

><><

This little town was never an exciting place during the morning. In fact, this little town wasn't the least bit exciting at all for Belle. Belle spent her mornings on strolls around the neighbourhood. She did this everyday, perhaps in hopes to spot even the slightest moments of routines to change. But no, this was never the case. Belle would find men coming out their houses at the exact same time, driving their cars out their driveways in a practised, perfect pattern, children playing on their lawn with the exact same games, women keeping up their gardens in the exact same fashion of their neighbours.

In disappointment of the unchanging cycle, Belle would bury her nose behind a book and everything around her would seem to blur. She didn't regard her surroundings as all she would see were the visions of princes and princesses, pirates and sword fights, fairies and mermaids, all brought to life by the words of her books. The more impossible the story, the better.

Belle would find herself so enraptured by the premise of her story, she never regarded the conspicuous whispers of townsfolk as she passed them. Not that it would effect her at all. You would think by Belle living in this town for most her life, her neighbours would think of something else to sneer at. Though, it was only Belle, and with the exact same whispers as the day before.

"Look, there's that strange girl." "Dazed and distracted as always." "That girl's always got her head in the clouds!" "No denying, she's a funny girl that Belle!" "Shame that such a beauty is so odd." "What an odd child."

Not one comment could faze her. Nothing could make her look up from her book.

It was because of this, that she was rather surprised when she found path blocked by a boy. She looked up from her book with a sigh, rather expectant to see what would be in front of her.

"Bonjour, Belle!" The boy flashed a handsome grin at her.

"Hello, Gaston." Belle mumbled.

Belle was often greeted in French since moving to town, from a small French provincial village. She had no idea why this tickled and amused Gaston and her classmates so much. She was after all, immaculate in her English.

Gaston always held a confident demeanour with him, all too proud of his tall, slender, handsome figure. Many girls of Belle's age envied that Gaston favoured her attention, being that she was such an outcast to people of Gaston's supposed calibre. Belle was not at all pleased with the attention she got from Gaston either. Beneath his superficial pearly white smile surfaced a spoiled, egotistical, empty-headed boy much too pretentious to believe that Belle genuinely had no interest in him.

Gaston smiled down at her, grabbing the book from her hands. He smiled at Belle amused as she tried to reach for it, but Gaston being a great deal taller than her held the book high from her.

"Gaston, may I have my book back, please?" Belle mustered a polite expression as much as she could, while she grew concerned when Gaston fumbled through the pages carelessly and left creases of the book's spine.

"What are you reading this time?" Gaston flicked through the pages of the book and squinted at it. "How can you read this? There are no pictures."

"I know." Belle made a grab for the book unsuccessfully. "But why should that mean it's any less wonderful? You see, some people use their imagination."

Gaston gave a momentary judgemental glance at Belle, before tossing the book aside. With a gasp from Belle, the book landed on the lawn beside them, it's pages sprawled amongst the dirt of the grass.

Belle was quick to gather her book and smooth out the crinkled pages and had barely comprehended what Gaston was saying, as she nurtured the book in her arms like a newborn baby.

"Belle, I think it's time I should see you without a book covering your pretty face." Gaston gave a confident stride beside Belle who had continued walking. He put an arm around Belle, which she immediately shrugged off. "Movies are the new books, Belle. I don't suppose you're busy tonight. How 'bout it?"

Belle rummaged her mind for a response to help her escape. To her saviour, Gaston's little brother, Dirk called after him, running towards them.

Dirk arrived, panting and backed away slightly when he saw that Gaston had given him an annoyed glare for interrupting them.

"What? Did I interrupt something?" Dirk glared back at Gaston.

As quickly as she could, Belle briskly began walking her way back home.

"Wait!" Gaston called after her. "What about the movie?"

Belle continued walking and replied over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gaston, maybe some other time, I can't. I have to go home and help my father."

Dirk spitted a loud scoff. "Yeah that crazy old man will need all the help he can get!"

Both Gaston and Dirk bursted into a hearty fit of laughter, Gaston giving Dirk a slamming high five. Belle stopped dead in her tracks, turning her heel back to face them, fuming.

"Do not talk about my father that way!" Belle exclaimed furiously.

Gaston choked on his laughter as he attempted to stifle it, clearing his throat and hitting his little brother in the shoulder. "Yeah! Don't talk about her dad that way." He tried to scold, but a smirk was still visible across his face.

"My father is just as sane as anybody else here." Belle asserted. "Just because he's inventive and creative does not mean he's insane, it means he's a genius! He is not crazy!"

At the moment, a piercingly loud squeal of an explosion bursted from afar. Sounds of crumbling crashes and thunderous eruptions echoed across the street, causing Belle, Gaston and Dirk to flinch. Many people had come out of their homes to look at the source of the noise, but their eyes immediately travelled to Belle.

This was unfortunately a regular occurrence, courtesy of her Inventor of a father, Maurice. Belle did not regard the grimacing looks she got from her neighbours or the return of Gaston and Dirk's giggling fit as she immediately ran home, worried for her father.

Belle ran frantically back to her home. She gasped as she saw the door, leading to the basement, seeping out smoke. She quickly opened the door, violently coughing as a suffocating cloud of black smoke puffed into her face. "Papa?" She managed to call out through the smoke.

Belle sprinted down the stairs as she saw her father groan in pain. "Are you alright, Papa?"

"Merde!" He cursed. "I give up!" Maurice kicked onto the device that was bursting out smoke.

Maurice coughed, wheezing through the smoke as Belle helped guide him upstairs, away from it. "Papa, you can't give up now. You always say that." Belle encouraged as she went to fetch him a glass of water.

Maurice sighed. "No. This time I mean it. Series of failures - one right after another...Who am I kidding? No one will ever need my boneheaded contraptions!"

"Don't talk like that!" Belle sat beside him. 

"Well it's true! Just ask everyone else out there." He gestured to their neighbours.

"Papa, you will succeed, you'll become a world renowned inventor and all those who spoke ill of you here will bow down to you." Belle was beaming with a radiating smile that never failed to warm Maurice's heart. The girl's purity was always something for him to lift his spirits after hours of failed work.

Maurice gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, my dear. That's a bit of an exaggeration, but thank you."

Belle's smile eventually began to fade, her eyes softening and Maurice's spirits were soon depreciated. "What's wrong?"

"Papa...do you think I'm odd?" Belle had a quiver of worry in her tone.

"Odd? My Belle?" Maurice thought the idea was absurd. "Who would ever think that?"

"Everyone." Belle exasperated. "And they're right! I don't fit in here - there's no one to talk to - no one that doesn't look at me strangely."

"What about Gaston? He's a looker." Maurice chuckled. Maurice got up, brought out his tool box and began to fumble around with them.

Belle muttered. "Oh yes, he's a looker - but he's also conceited, selfish, rude, vain and — ugh! Let's just say that, that's one friendship best avoided."

"Well, what about Kim? You seemed to get on with her well." Maurice was still engaged in conversation with Belle despite being absorbed in his mechanical work.

"Yes, I do like Kim. But she hangs out with the wrong crowd, is always with her boyfriend who seems just as irritating as Gaston and...she really doesn't seem like she wants to be seen with me."

"Now what makes you say that?"

Belle slouched tiresomely, feeling slightly relieved that she was venting out all her troubles. "Oh mon dieu, Papa, why did we have to move here?"

"Hey, I rather like it here." Maurice said defensively. "It just takes some getting used to."

Belle groaned throwing herself on the sofa. "There must be something more to this small suburban life!"

Maurice tutted. "That's your books talking -- all those stories about far off kingdoms have gotten to your head. There are no princes and castles here, Belle."

Belle raised her eyebrows as she looked out the window and stared at the marvel of a castle-like mansion far off on top of the hill. "I beg to differ, Papa." She muttered almost to herself.

The castle had always intrigued Belle. It was a magnificent view, that was also seen from the window of her bedroom. The very sight of it from her bedroom window would lull her into a dreaming sleep of fantastically impossible worlds. Whether it be a world where teapots and teacups greeted you for morning breakfast, or a world where magic portraits could come to life.

In school, she'd heard the castle was an abandoned one, untouched since an old inventor had passed away there, though there is still some speculation that his ghost haunts the manor. Although this was a ridiculous rumour, the more time she spent in the dreary suburban neighbourhood, the more she hoped something so ridiculous was true - ridiculous was fascinating.

"I'll be right back, Papa. I think I'll go out for another stroll..." She said as she eyed the castle.

><><

Belle was careful to make sure she wasn't seen going off to the mansion. She couldn't imagine the rumours that would circulate after neighbours seeing a strange girl voluntarily wander into the only bizarre place in this perfect town. It puzzled Belle completely, as to how people had never thought of exploring there before - how nobody had a good sense of curiosity to be fascinated with a house that wasn't plain and identical as every other house in the neighbourhood.

Belle creaked open the gates, wincing at the loud yelps the rustiness of the untouched gates made. The path leading up to the castle was eerie with dark trees hanging over, though eerie in a way that fascinated Belle. Belle was boiling in anticipation, as she observed her surroundings.

She stopped in her tracks as she spotted a light pink car parked in the pathway. She observed the track tyres and noticed that they were fresh and someone had just come here. This was only perplexing as Belle could not think of anyone who would dare visit here.

She briskly walked up the path, growing more eager.

Belle widened her eyes as she saw Peg Boggs, dressed in a light pink outfit with her Avon suitcase in hand. Peg was Kim's mother, and was one of the very few people that treated Belle with kindness. Peg was admiring the splendour of the garden in front of the castle, and eventually Belle's eyes drifted towards the garden as well.

Belle felt an ecstatic grin creep across her face from ear to ear as she marvelled at the sight before her. Bright flowers organised in colourful bunches, topiary plants shaped perfectly into animals some of which were imaginative much like the ones in the stories she'd read and beautiful stems of vines framed around the castle. 

Belle felt the fairytales she'd dream about come to life before her.

"Belle?" 

Belle gasped as she snapped out of her marvelling gaze at the sight. Peg was just as surprised to see Belle there as well.

"Mrs. Boggs, hello." Belle smiled.

"Hello. What are you doing here?" Peg greeted her with a warm smile.

"I-I'm...I...Well, I've always wanted to come up here...The castle, it's...it's..."

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Peg chuckled as she looked back at the view.

Belle's smile returned to its radiant beam. "'Wonderful' is an understatement, it's epic, it's incandiferous, it's...magical."

Belle grew red in the cheeks at her excitement. These sorts of remarks are what labelled her as odd to everyone in her neighbourhood. Belle's smile faltered and her head bowed sheepishly.

Peg chuckled. "There's no need to feel embarrassed, Belle. I find your enthusiasm endearing."

Belle gave a modest grin before returning to her initial confused state. "What are you doing up here, Mrs. Boggs?"

Peg gave a tired sigh, gesturing to her suitcase. "Avon calling. I've had doors slammed in my face all morning, and I'm simply tired of it. I thought it was time that I tried something different, or rather, go somewhere else."

Belle nodded. "Well, this sure is a change of scene." She mused as she looked back through the garden.

Belle's eye was caught by a single red rose, standing out amongst a patch of white flowers. She knelt down to the rose, bringing her nose to it and inhaling it, fluttering with delight at its smell. As she was marvelling at the flower, she felt a strange sensation that she was being watched.

Almost instinctively, her head jerked up to the one of the windows high up on the castle. In a flash of a glimpse she spotted a face staring down at her curiously, though the face disappeared as quickly as she saw it. "There is someone here..." Belle gasped in delight.

"Really?" Peg asked. She began to clutch onto her Avon suitcase and make her way towards the door. Belle wasn't sure why, but she followed Peg. 

"Perhaps I'll join you on this Avon calling." Belle smiled. Her eyes tore away from the window that she fixated on. Little did she know that the face that she saw reappeared at the window, eyeing her in enchantment, as she made her way inside with Peg.

#johnny depp #edward scissorhands #edward scissorhands x oc #edward scissorhands fluff #edward scissorhands x beauty and the beast #edward x belle #emma watson #beauty and the beast

[just-come-baek]

Wedding Fever 1

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Themes: smut | fluff | a bit of angst | wedding!au | friends to lovers!au | fakedating!au (mainly in part 2, only a sprinkle here) | SLOWBURN!

Word count: 9.3k

Summary: Baekhyun is the best man, and I am the maid of honor at our friends’ wedding. Although should we be excited about our friends getting married, we seem to complain a lot more every time we meet for another preparation. Maybe it’s a bit fanciful of me to think that, but I hope, somewhere between choosing flowers and venting about the reception prep, he’ll like me just as I like him.

A/N it was supposed to be a long ass one-shot but then I decided to split it into two (or three) chapters. The smut will be in the last part. 29/05/18 - edited!

Masterlist | next part

“Hi, are you busy next weekend?” My friend, Jiwoo, asked as soon as I answered the call. She had always been like this when she wanted something; always straight to the point, no beating around the bush. But of course, when it was the other way around, no man could convince her to squeeze something into her schedule.

“What is it?” I voiced in boredom. When it came to her, I had to know first what she wanted, and then consider. I had made that mistake way too many times before, and now, I knew better not to agree without hearing her first. “If it’s another blind date, I’m gonna pass.”

“You won’t let that go, will you?” she stated, and I didn’t even have to reply for her to know the answer. This guy that she had set me up with had been terrible. And I’m not exaggerating; his hand, instead of accepting my handshake, went straight down to my butt in a poor attempt to slide his sausage fingers into my trousers. He was handsome, true, and I was desperate for an orgasm, also true, but not with someone who had absolutely no manners.

“So, what is it? Be quick, I don’t have all day,” I lied, but she didn’t have to know that. I just finished my work early, and I didn’t have anything to do. However, I let her think I was awfully busy because she wouldn’t ask me of as much as she probably wanted me to.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” she inquired, but I only rolled my eyes at her, dismissing her remark. Being her friend was difficult, and I had to stand my ground, even though she could think I was mean and peevish. “Anyway, Hongbin and I are throwing a party for our closest friends; do you think you can stop by?”

“It depends on what you want me to make,” I stated truthfully; it wouldn’t be the first time when a friend invited me to a party and asked me to cook something. Actually, now when I think about it, my culinary skills were the sole reason why I appeared on certain parties…

“Just a few goodies,” she spoke in a higher tone as if it was supposed to convince me. It wasn’t in her style to try to butter me up, in such circumstances it usually would be Hongbin the one calling me, but I shrugged that disquieting feeling. Something fishy was up, yet I wasn’t going to question it now. In case I’m right, they confirm my suspicion at the party anyway. “I’m in charge of dessert, so I thought that you could cover the main dish. You can pick whatever you want, I’m sure it’ll be delicious nonetheless.”

Trying to win me over with a compliment? I thought as I poked my cheek with my tongue. How much I wished it wasn’t that easy! She’s lucky because I’m a sucker for compliments. She had known me for years, and it’s obvious she used the flattery card on purpose, being perfectly aware that I wasn’t going to say no.

“Okay, let’s say I’m in. How many people are going to be there?” I said, pretending that I still had doubts about this friendly gathering. Actually, I did have doubts. Jiwoo’s definition of a small hangout was different than mine; not like day and night, but I would never consider a party for fifteen people as humble, yet she had proved me wrong.

“It won’t be anything outrageous this time. Only our most important friends are on the guest list, which roughly adds up to six people.” She explained, and in the meantime, I reached for a notebook to make notes. “So, can I count on you?”

“Of course, you can,” I replied casually, already thinking about the shopping list. “I’ll give you a receipt for the ingredients and my labor, so don’t be surprised,” I added matter-of-factly, and Jiwoo chuckled, expecting this kind of remark from me.

“I’ll pay you back in wine; is that okay with you?” Jiwoo spoke playfully, and I sighed in content; whatever we wanted from each other, we would pay our debts using wine as currency. It had always worked. “Okay, so see you on Saturday at seven.”

When Saturday finally arrived, I woke up at eleven, being tired as ever. Weekends should be time to catch up with sleep and recharge your batteries, but it had never worked for me. On Fridays, I always go out with my colleagues, and it’s a miracle if I come back home sober.

Groaning, I rolled off my bed.

It was going to be a long day, and I didn’t doubt it for a second. First off, I’d have to take a shower and eat something before I’d go outside to do the groceries. Then, I’d have to work my magic and prepare something delicious, so when finally everything’s ready, I could dress myself up. Jiwoo had sounded as if she had a secret to spill, and if she planned on inviting the most important people in her life, I knew I had to look extra fancy.

Oh my God, she hasn’t got knocked up, has she?

Shaking the thought off my mind, I picked a set of fresh clothes and walked under the stream of hot water. We were both young, barely twenty-three, yet in her case, pregnancy couldn’t be that bad. She had been in a stable relationship with Hongbin for over a year now, so it wouldn’t be that shocking. It’s natural for their bond to progress.

Whereas, my sex life’s seemed to be stuck in the same momentum since I had got dumped. And, if it’s any comforting, I’m pretty successful in other areas, work-wise, for example. So, ultimately, it isn’t as bad as it could be.

For today’s party, I decided to prepare a big bowl of enchiladas for those who don’t mind a little spice in their life, and a plate of lasagna for whom prefer mild meals. And though I’m famous for my pizza, I concluded it would be too much of a hassle since it requires much more effort to make when I’m catering for a group of six. Enchiladas and lasagna are greasy dishes, and people quickly get full, so it's an excellent choice for tonight's gathering.

And maybe, I could get some starters if I get inspired when doing shopping.

Having showered and dried my hair, I put on the previously chosen clothes and left my apartment. The nearest supermarket was about three blocks away, so I didn’t bother starting the engine nor catching the bus. My friends often complain that I don’t exercise enough, so the stroll to and back from the supermarket should suffice until gym passes get cheaper.

Professionally, I strolled, or rather skated between aisles, pushing myself with my right leg. I picked up the best ingredients for the upcoming supper. For fellow shoppers, I might've seemed a bit childish doing shopping like that, wearing a power pink T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of trainers. I didn’t care, though. Not when debating which wine to choose, not when lifting a few bags of potato chips and a jar of lollipops.

I arrived at home thirty minutes later, and the first thing I did was to turn on the TV, choosing TLC channel which was airing another episode of Say ‘Yes’ to the Dress, and opened the bottle of wine, as cooking has always brought much more joy when I had a glass of wine within the reach. Moreover, it usually helped me not to graze while preparing the meal.

When another bride complained about the brand dress that she wanted, but it didn’t fit her figure, I mixed all sauce ingredients. I listened to bride’s complaints and the shop assistant’s professional pointers, wishing for commercials to start. I watched programs like this one, quite compulsively at that, but at the same time, each scene was annoying me. It’s strange but when the episode ends and another starts, I can’t get myself to switch the channel.

Today must’ve been a marathon; the lasagna was already in the oven, the bowl of enchiladas waiting for its turn on the counter, and I could still hear another Atlanta bride bicker with her family about her choice. Sighing, I opened the freezer and grabbed the unfinished cup of mint ice cream. If I was going to watch it, I needed some sort of comfort food.

I sat comfortably on the couch, and I munched on the ice cream, my ringtone saving me from another round of whiny and indecisive women.

It was Jiwoo.

God bless her timing!

“Hi, what’s up?” I asked, popping a spoon of ice cream into my mouth.

“I just wanted to ask if you need a ride. Hongbin is going to be in your neighborhood, and he can pick you up. What do you think about it?” Jiwoo explained, and I sighed in relief. She saved me much trouble before I even realized I had it.

“Thanks,” I replied excitedly, counting how much money I would save if Hongbin could give me a lift. Considering the fact that I already had a glass of wine, driving there wasn’t an option. “What time can I expect him?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure; he’s meeting a client right now, and I have no idea how long it’s gonna take.” Jiwoo spoke honestly; she couldn’t be sure, Hongbin’s industry was quite unpredictable, and I understood that. “He has your number, though. He’ll call when he’s finished.” She concluded, and I hummed in acknowledgment since her offer was reasonable. “Okay, no problem. The goodies you asked me for are ready anyway,” I agreed, giving her an update on my mission.

“Oh, and what have you cooked? Is it pizza?”

“You’ll find out when I get there,” I dismissed her inquiry, leaving her with a cliffhanger. Either way, the food was delicious. Besides, I was certain that no one would complain. “I gotta go if you want me to be ready when Hongbin arrives. Is there a dress code that I should abide by?”

“No, but you could dress up. Baekhyun’s going to be here, and you won’t get into his pants, wearing a tracksuit.” Jiwoo spoke, and I wished she was within my reach so I could smack her across her face.

“And why should I care that he’s going to be there?” I asked nonchalantly, trying to act as indifferent as I could muster up. I might have fantasized about him a couple of times, but it didn’t mean I was planning on beginning anything with him. I had met him around the time when Jiwoo and Hongbin started dating, and if Baekhyun and I had a chance to become something more, it would have already happened.

“Oh puh-lease, you’ve been crushing on him since you met him! And don’t deny it!”

“I don’t see how’s that relevant,” I shrugged, ignoring her statement. At this point, denial was the best strategy. If only I could back up my defense with constructive arguments which had the power to shut her up once and for all, it would be perfect. “I’m over him. Whatever ‘crush’ you’re referring to is in the past. Really, I mean it. Besides, there’s this new guy at work, and he asked me out.” I lied blatantly, hoping she’d believe me.

Baekhyun isn’t a guy one can get over so easily. I suffered (and still do) from the worst form of infatuation. And though he’s not really my type, with each meeting I want him more. At first, I couldn’t stand his presence, but then it grew on me, and it stuck like this ever since. However, we had known each other for over two years now, and chances for romance between us oscillate around zero. It’s that simple, so it’s pointless to try any further.

“I hope you’re not bullshitting me right now,” she whispered, as she wanted to believe me. It didn’t mean she did, but at least she tried. “But for real, put on something nice, you can show him what he could've had. Show him what he’s missing out on.”

Of course, she wouldn’t let it go.

What was I thinking?

“Ugh…fine,” I gave in, even though I knew it wouldn’t work. Baekhyun and I weren’t meant for each other, and I realized it before my infatuation consumed me. Maybe for some women, it’s okay to be holding out for a hero, but I was completely done. Two years was more than enough, and I gave up with no regret. “I’m hanging up, see you later.”

Hongbin texted me around six o’clock and arrived about thirty minutes later. Thankfully, by the time he knocked on my doors, I was already dolled up.

Despite Jiwoo’s persistent advice, I decided not to overdo myself. I didn’t want Baekhyun and the rest think that I tried too much. If anything, I opted for nonchalant and classy, so I straightened my hair and chose a black dress that reached down to my mid-thigh. It wasn’t slutty, though. It was long-sleeved and showed no cleavage. My make-up wasn’t excessive, either. My lips were painted red, my eyes highlighted with black mascara and brownish eyeshadow. A little bit of blush on my cheeks, and I was ready to go.

“What’s that smell?” Hongbin asked when I opened the doors and let him in. “Mm…it must be delicious,” he admitted, roaming around the kitchen looking for the food. “How much time do you need?”

“Actually, we can leave right now,” I replied as I walked across the room. Hongbin straightened up, smiling at me. If he hoped I had cooked something extra for him, he was wrong. He has Jiwoo, and it’s her task to coddle him. “I just have to put foil over them, and we’re all set,” I added, pushing Hongbin away with my hip since he was blocking the oven.

Skillfully, I packed the food, whereas Hongbin whistled and played with his car keys.

The drive to their apartment was quick, but when we arrived, we were the last to join. Apparently, the only guests besides me and Baekhyun were Hongbin’s parents, and although I put one of my best dresses, I still felt a bit underdressed. Even Baekhyun wore a suit shirt and a bow tie. I should have known better.

When Hongbin’s parents kissed my cheeks, I excused myself to help Jiwoo in the kitchen. It’s not that I didn’t trust her, I did. I just didn’t want to stay alone with Baekhyun when Hongbin would be too engrossed in the conversation with his parents.

“You should’ve worn high heels,” Jiwoo mused when I entered the kitchen. “Your skinny legs would’ve seemed even longer. Baekhyun would start drooling on the spot!”

“And you should’ve told me you’re planning to parent-trip us!” I fought back aggressively. I didn’t appreciate what she was trying to do, and she ought to have known that! “I can’t believe you’ve done that! How could you?”

“I’m trying to help you. For how long have you been lusting over him?” I folded my arms across my chest, too stubborn to admit the facts. “Just give it a try, okay? Give him one last chance?”

“Whatever,” I barked in response.

Unwillingly, I returned to the table. Smooth jazz melody was playing in the background, while the guests were comfortably chatting. Smiling at them, I took a seat next to Baekhyun.

“I can’t believe that you’re all still hanging out together,” Hongbin’s mother said, as she clapped her hands in joy. Apparently, Baekhyun and Hongbin had been friends since middle school. And then two years ago, Jiwoo and I joined the group, making the old lady incredibly happy. Shame that Baekhyun and I never hang out alone!

“Why is it so surprising?” Baekhyun asked loudly, pretending to be offended.

“I don’t know, you and Hongbin are so different,” she replied, and I nodded my head. She was right; Baekhyun and Hongbin were like day and night. It’s really shocking how they remained friends for so many years.

The moment we exhausted the topic, Jiwoo joined us with the meals that I had prepared. It was steaming deliciously, and it smelled even better. Everyone licked lips in appetite, observing her every move.

“Dig in,” Jiwoo said, as she sat down in the only free chair. Listening to her command, Baekhyun stood up and started distributing Enchiladas, whereas Hongbin did the same with the lasagna. And when everyone had food on their plates, the round of compliments erupted, feeling the urge to extol the dish and the person who had cooked it.

As I predicted, the half of the food was enough for everyone to be full. However, Jiwoo had baked red velvet cake for the dessert, and though I had never been a fan of sweets, I couldn’t refuse a piece.

“It’s so nice to hang out like this. The whole family together,” Hongbin’s father stated, as he gave his wife a peck. The scene playing in front of my eyes was adorable, and I wished I could be the same in their age. They’re obviously soulmates, and everyone should envy them.

“Actually, we have something we’d like to share with you all,” Hongbin started, smiling like an idiot at Jiwoo who was sitting across the table.

No fucking way!

Was I right? Is she pregnant? And she didn’t even tell me anything! What a bitch!

But wait a second; she’s on her fourth glass of wine! If it’s not pregnancy, then it must be…

“We’re getting married!” Jiwoo exclaimed, and everyone started to cheer for them. So, it was that news that she wanted to deliver. “We’re having the ring resized, but it is official.”

When I downed my wine, the rest of the guests stood up to congratulate the pair. I would gladly wait for my turn. The moment Jiwoo was released from her future mother-in-law; she smiled at me and sat in Baekhyun’s seat right beside me.

I couldn’t voice how much happy I was for her. I was also kind of envious, but mostly happy. They deserved each other, and I really supported their relationship. They had gone through a few rough patches, and it was about time they formalize their bond. So instead of stuttering throughout my spontaneous speech, I simply wrapped my hands around her, squealing.

Roughly twenty minutes later, when the shock died down a bit, everyone grabbed one’s wine glass, and we all moved to the couch, where Jiwoo and Hongbin shared all details about their future wedding.

To put it simply, it won’t be a simple reception but an all night long extravaganza.

Jiwoo wants an enormous, white, sleeveless princess gown with ten layers of tulle and a heart-shaped cleavage, while Hongbin will wear a simple black tuxedo paired with a back tie. Although nothing is booked yet, they want the reception to be held in June in a garden in outskirts of the city. Around two hundred guests. Moreover, they’re going to have a three-tier vanilla wedding cake and about a hectoliter of alcohol.

I almost got a headache when I estimated how much it’s going to cost them. It’s their wedding, though. Go big or go home. It’s the beginning of their life together, and they shouldn’t skimp on it.

Around ten o’clock, Hongbin’s parents called it a night and phoned for a cab, and we decided to carry on the celebration. It was still early, and I didn’t even get drunk yet.

“I’ll clean this up,” Jiwoo spoke, as she stood up. “Be here right back.”

“Wait, I’ll help you,” Hongbin offered, as he followed behind her, collecting the dirty plates after the supper. I was sitting on the couch with Baekhyun leaning against it, as he was sprawled on the floor.

In complete silence we watched their interaction; Hongbin with his sleeves rolled up was washing the dishes and Jiwoo was wiping them and placing them on the counter. They were giggling and bumping hips playfully, happiness just emitting from them.

“They’re disgusting,” Baekhyun commented, as he shook his head and took a gulp of beer. He was driven by envy, and I couldn’t blame him since I felt the same.

“That’s why I always try to meet them separately,” I remarked, and Baekhyun chuckled. “Unfortunately, it rarely works,” I added absentmindedly, as I was focused on another romantic scene in the kitchen; Jiwoo smacked Hongbin’s butt with the cloth, and Hongbin blew the bubbles at her in revenge.

“Yeah, the lovebirds are inseparable,” Baekhyun admitted with a sigh, and I leaned forward and clinked my glass against his beer bottle, saluting to that.

“Someday, you’re going to be like that, too,” I teased, and he almost choked on his drink. “All smitten and corny,” I added, making him look at me as if I just offended his mother.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, I want to throw up when I look at them, then how would I live with myself if I was like that too? It’s impossible,” he defended himself, and I only giggled in response. Baekhyun was a great guy, and if I didn’t make him feel like Jiwoo affected Hongbin, someone else could.

“On the second thought, I bet you’d be even more whipped,” I concluded before I started laughing at my suspicion. “Baekhyun, the henpecked husband.”

“Take that back!” Baekhyun whined, obtaining the lovebirds’ attention.

“What’s going on?” Hongbin yelled from the kitchen, interested in whatever was happening between us. He wasn’t helping Jiwoo set us up, right? “Please, tell me you aren’t fighting.”

“No, of course not,” Baekhyun denied the charges, as he chugged down his beer. He was probably too sober to deal with the lovebirds, and I’d feel the same if I wasn’t such a lightweight. “We’re just excited about the wedding, that’s all.”

“That’s amazing because there’s one more thing we’d like to request of you,” Hongbin started, and looked over his shoulder, waiting for Jiwoo to join him by his side. “You two should stand with us at the altar.”

“What do you say? Do you want to be my maid of honor?” Jiwoo asked me, and everyone waited for my reply. Baekhyun already agreed to be Hongbin’s best man, but I had doubts about it since I didn’t think I was suitable for that position. I had no idea how to help them organize the perfect wedding. But then, Baekhyun was just as clueless, so it should be fine.

“Of course, I’d be honored!”

After that long, eventful night everything went to hell. Baekhyun and I had no doubts it was the very beginning of the end, the epitome of apogee, or as I liked to call it—the wedding fever. Whenever I hung out with Jiwoo or Hongbin or them both the conversation would change to wedding discussion. (At one point, I even bet with Baekhyun, as we tried to confirm that hypothesis. It’s not important but we were right.)

When lovebirds were excited about planning, Baekhyun and I grew tired of it quite quickly.

Not even a month later after the engagement reception, they invited us over for a casual hangout. I wouldn’t have attended if they told me it was an ambush. Baekhyun fell for that deceit, too. (The look on his face when he saw a dozen of different invites was utterly priceless.)

“I don’t think I can do it any longer,” Baekhyun whispered into my ear when Jiwoo went to the kitchen for another bottle of wine. “It’s overwhelming,” he added, this time louder a notch, since he wasn’t afraid that they could hear it. Hongbin was talking on the phone in another room, whereas Jiwoo was fighting with the corkscrew.

“Well…in that case…brace yourself because it’s only gonna get worse,” I mused, chuckling as I downed my glass of wine. The wedding planning was only going to intensify, and though I was as fucked as Baekhyun, it still brought lots of joy when I thought about it. We were both stuck in that crappy situation, and humor based on our misery seemed suitable. There’s always a silver lining, even in these circumstances. We had each other’s backs whenever we wanted to vent about the wedding, and it actually helped us blow off some steam, though we were still quite grumpy when they invited us over for some unforeseen reception preparation.

“The wedding is in June for fuck’s sake!” Baekhyun spat bitterly, slowing losing all his patience. It was still a surprise that he managed to last this long without snapping. “It’s in twelve months for crying out loud!” He yelled, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Take it easy,” I advised him before a vein could pop out on his forehead. “And do you want to know a secret?” I asked, and Baekhyun leaned slightly, curious about what solution I had for his problem. “Just avoid them. Do you have any idea how many times I had to stay late at work this week? None, but Jiwoo thinks I worked overtime every day.”

Baekhyun stared at me in awe, his mouth open as if he was perplexed that I was able to lie to my best friend’s face in so cruel way. I understood her excitement about the most important day in her life, but I was already overwhelmed by the groundwork we had been doing for the past three weeks.

“You’re so mean,” Baekhyun whispered after a while, although I knew he was planning to do the same whenever Hongbin or Jiwoo would ask him for something. What a hypocrite!

“I’d rather be mean than deal with them every free moment I have,” I admitted, and Baekhyun smiled brightly, not expecting me to be so frank about that matter.

“True,” he agreed with me.

“Don’t use that excuse too often, though. They may suss us out if we blow them off too many times, okay?” I warned him, and Baekhyun nodded, realizing that our strategy wasn’t entirely faultless.

“Okay, who wants a refill?” Jiwoo asked when she came back to the living room with the opened bottle of wine. Having exchanged a meaningful gaze, Baekhyun tore his eyes away, as he cracked a faint smile toward Jiwoo, raising his empty glass, and I waited for my turn, needing another dose of alcohol in my system if I wanted to survive the night.

“Which invitation do you like the best?” I inquired, trying to fake my interest. I didn’t give a shit since all of them were very fancy and beautiful, but I knew that Jiwoo would go easy on me if I seemed indulged in the topic. In her eyes, Baekhyun would be the ‘silent’ one whom she had to force to join the discussion. “The one with the beige ribbon kicks ass.”

“Hmm…you sure?” Jiwoo contemplated, and I took a sip of my wine, knowing she’d reject my proposition; I wasn’t the person she trusted when it came to style, and even if I managed to choose the best option among all, she still would rebuff my suggestion. No hard feelings, though. It was a two-way street; I had been dismissing all her advice about hitting it off with Baekhyun, so overall, we’re even. “I think the powder pink ones would be better, you know, they will go better with the general wedding theme. And what do you think?” she asked, focusing her attention on Baekhyun. Just like in my prediction, she’d involve Baekhyun in the discussion, allowing me to enjoy my wine in silence.

“I think you’re right,” Baekhyun answered quickly, and I cocked my eyebrow, suspecting he hadn’t even listened to our conversation, agreeing with whatever. And he had dared to say he would have never been whipped. He was, and Jiwoo’s only his friend.

Pathetic.

“Okay, so right now, we have to choose one among ten pink ones,” Jiwoo stated ecstatically, sitting beside Baekhyun with a wide palette of invitations. “Which one’s your favorite?” she asked him, but Baekhyun looked at me as if I ought to have told him a correct answer. Too bad I couldn’t help him.

“Maybe you should discuss it with Hongbin; it’s your wedding, not mine,” Baekhyun made a point, but Jiwoo still wanted to know his opinion. She wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t ask for suggestion only to prove to you that you have none sense of fashion.

“You two are worth each other,” Jiwoo spoke a bit angrily, and Baekhyun and I exchanged glances, having no clue what she was implying. Almost as if she didn’t know I was pining for Baekhyun for quite a long time to no avail. “Both useless; why have I even invited you over?” she asked, and I wished I knew the answer to that.

When neither of us replied to her rhetorical question, Jiwoo rolled her eyes, and raised from her seat, flying off to Hongbin, knowing he’d take her seriously. Baekhyun and I weren’t much of a help, especially when we were slowly getting tipsy. It was difficult to pretend to care when being so lightheaded as I felt right now.

“When this hell will be over?” Baekhyun asked as he leaned against the backrest, tilting his head backward. He was looking at me with his sparkling eyes, and I was enchanted, unable to answer him when I started into the stars in his eyes. And when I did the impossible–tore my gaze away–I looked at his sharp jaw, losing my shit again. At this rate, I’d never get over him. If anything; I’d fall for him even more.

“Probably later than you think,” I snickered, and Baekhyun beamed at my response. Yeah, we were both awful people, and we were paying the price.

By midnight, Baekhyun and I were drunk, sprawled on the couch, yawning, whereas Jiwoo and Hongbin were sitting together in an armchair, hugging each other, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. Thankfully, I was shitfaced; otherwise, I’d have already thrown up at the sight in front of me.

“I should get going,” Baekhyun announced, as he tried to stand up, but failed to do so, falling back on the couch beside me.

“Nonsense, you two should stay the night,” Hongbin announced, not even allowing us to decline. Yeah, we had had a couple of glasses of wine, but we were still capable of getting to our homes safely. “The end of the discussion,” he added before either of us managed to argue.

Without any further commotion, Jiwoo went to their bedroom for some clothes so we could change, whereas Hongbin ran off, looking for some extra blankets and pillows.

Within fifteen minutes, Baekhyun and I were lying under the sheets in the living room. Needless to say, it was awkward and uncomfortable. The lights were off, Jiwoo and Hongbin were gone in their bedroom, and I was stiffened, afraid to move.

“Do you think they’re doing it?” Baekhyun asked, and I instantly turned to look at him. What the hell was that? Why was he thinking about it?

“I hope not,” I spoke uncertainly, “but they’ve just got engaged, they’re probably like rabbits,” I added matter-of-factly. Jiwoo knew I had been under the dry spell for way too long, and no matter how selfish she could get, she would never do that to me. For the sake of our friendship, she could sacrifice one night of sex.

“They better be quiet,” Baekhyun threatened, and I felt the urge to ask ‘or what you’re gonna do’, but I bit my tongue before the words left my mouth. “I don’t want to get reminded that I am not getting some every time I look at them,” he added, and I rolled my eyes, slowly becoming too tired to be having this conversation with him.

“Then maybe you should fall asleep before their moans get out of hand,” I proposed, and Baekhyun turned to me, giving me ‘a bitch please’ face. “What?”

“Are you seriously okay with that?”

“No, but if it bothers you so much, we could hit it off, muffling their sex sounds with ours. You know…like horny college students.” I spoke, catching Baekhyun off guard. Surely, he didn’t expect me to put it that way since he probably thought I was a prude. However, alcohol which was circulating in my blood made me bolder and more brazen.

“You’re drunk,” Baekhyun said in a reprimanding tone, making me regret I had even touched wine. I had a crush on him, and I wanted to be perfect in his eyes, and when he was telling me something like that, I sensed I disappointed him, and it made me feel terrible. “You better go to sleep, you’re saying nonsense,” he added, as placed his forefinger on my forehead, gently pushing my head on the pillow.

I couldn’t argue with him. I’d probably embarrass myself further.

“Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

“Goodnight.”

Baekhyun and I are just acquaintances who follow each other on many social media but never exchange any messages. We have no trouble talking when we meet, but neither of us had ever tried to reach out; I because I had always been too shy to make the first move, and Baekhyun, well…he must have had his reasons.

On Friday, though, he messaged me, and it was enough of a reason to freak out.

Him | 18:59 | got stood up by the lovebirds

Him | 18:59 | I could use a drink

Him | 19:00 | want to come with?

Why did he have such a bad timing? I already had plans, and I couldn’t (didn’t want to) cancel them. I was meeting my friends whom I hadn’t seen in a while, and I was dying to catch up with them. And when we finally set the date after weeks of organizing, I couldn’t ditch them.

Me | 19:04 | sorry

Me | 19:04 | already have plans

Me | 19:07 | how the hell did you get stood up???

Me | 19:07 | loser

I typed back quickly, as I threw the phone on the bed. I had twenty minutes till my bus, and I wasn’t done applying my make up yet.

I was meeting my friends at the club, and though I wasn’t planning on hooking up with anybody, I wanted to doll myself up, and at least, I could use the night to stroke my ego a bit. The feeling of being desired by many yet beyond the reach of all of them could do wonders to my self-esteem, and after the uneventful meetings with Baekhyun, I needed it more than ever.

Him | 19:08 | they’d choose sex over you too

Him | 19:09 | so you’re standing me up too

Him | 19:09 | you mean

Him | 19:09 | I’d never do that to you

It didn’t take him long to reply. He must’ve been really hurt by Jiwoo and Hongbin. And normally, I’d do everything to make him feel better. Today, unfortunately, I couldn’t. My attempts in consolation would have to be limited to texts.

Me | 19:23 | you’ll be fine

Me | 19:24 | it won’t be a first time

Me | 19:24 | you better get used to it

Quickly, I studied my reflection, grabbed the purse, and walked out of my apartment. I couldn’t be late; the girls would skin me alive.

On my way to the club, I kept texting Baekhyun. When he was done with venting about the lovebirds, we swiftly moved from one topic to another. Probably, people on the bus thought I was a lunatic smiling at my phone like this, but I didn’t care. He had reached out to me first, and though I didn’t have a lot of expectations, I was going to cherish whatever he was to give to me even if it was just a piece of conversation. I’d gladly take it.

Texting with him was so much fun that I almost missed my stop. Without waiting for his another reply, I threw my phone into my purse before I hopped off the bus, energetically walking down the pavement, choosing the shortest route to the club. I was wearing high heels which I rarely do, and I didn’t want my feet to start hurting before I even got there.

When I got inside, my friends, Miyoung and Namjoo, were already sitting at the bar, sipping on their cocktails. They didn’t notice me at first, but I couldn’t blame them; the music was blasting, and they were in the middle of a conversation.

“Hi,” I shouted when I approached them, and they instantly turned to look at me, both of them smiling. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, and it was nice to meet up. I needed the girls’ night, especially after all the wedding preparations I had gone through.

Shortly after, Miyoung’s boyfriend joined us, and we moved to the booth where it was only a bit quieter. Over sweet drinks, we talked about the current affairs and our plans for future, and though Miyoung was unaware, I could sense that their wedding would be next.

Slowly, I was getting intoxicated, and when the silence engulfed us between topics, I’d sneak a peek at my phone, exchanging texts with Baekhyun. The whole time we had known each other, I had no idea that texting him would be so fun, but now, when we hit it off via messages, I couldn’t force myself to stop.

And that’s exactly why I texted him the club’s address; Miyoung and her boyfriend were having the time of their lives on the dance floor and Namjoo was flirting with the guy who approached our table. There was nothing wrong with an additional company–the more the merrier, especially with Baekhyun cracking up one joke after another.

By the time Baekhyun arrived, I was sitting by the bar, talking with the bartender, listening to his recommendations. I wanted to try something new, and he was listing me the ingredients the cocktails were made with, and I rejected them whenever it consisted of something I didn’t like. I wasn’t picky–he was just keen on adding pineapple to every drink, so I had no choice.

“Hi there,” Baekhyun said, as he sat on the stool beside me, startling me at first. I was staring at the bartender’s show, and hearing Baekhyun’s voice so suddenly, I almost got a heart attack. “Whoa, you’re looking fancy, I feel so underdressed,” he commented, as he gawked at me in admiration. His eyes glistened with something, and I hope it wasn’t the club’s lighting. “What are you doing here all by yourself? Where are your friends?” Baekhyun asked, and I swiveled in the chair, scrutinizing the people on the dance floor in an attempt to find my friends.

“The couple dancing like forty-year-olds on a wedding - it's Miyoung and her boyfriend. And there’s Namjoo, making out with that guy over there,” I explained, briefly introducing them. Baekhyun nodded his head, comprehending the information. “Surprised I have other friends than Jiwoo?” I teased, and Baekhyun just smiled at me warmly.

“I’m actually relieved,” Baekhyun replied, and I hit his shoulder. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“I will,” I answered simply, but then I added, “when I feel the rhythm.”

“And when that’ll be?”

“The crowd isn’t ready for my sweet moves, you know,” I said, the cocktails I had drunk prior his arrival boosting my confidence. “Like seriously, they are no joke. The last time I went clubbing, one guy came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance in his music video.”

“And you rejected? Why would you do that?”

“Are you for real?” I asked, cocking up my eyebrow. “The guy acted so suspiciously I thought he’d pull me into his van the second we had left the club.”

“Oh, shit,” Baekhyun cursed, and I turned, trying to spot the factor behind his profanity.

“What is it?” I asked, clueless.

“That’s my ex, and we didn’t break up on good terms,” Baekhyun explained briefly, and I put my straw between my lips, not knowing how to reply to that, so instead I focused on my drink, trying not to think how stiff Baekhyun seemed. It’d be for the better if he faced the music by himself. “Fuck, she’s just seen me,” once again, he cursed, ducking his head down, as if it was to make him invisible, protecting him from his ex.

“Baekhyun, is that you?” a sweet voice asked, and I turned my head away, not wanting to see the woman’s face. I’d rather star in that guy’s MV than see what type of women Baekhyun was into. The last thing I wanted to do was to find out that Baekhyun was into sex bombs.

“Oh, hi, what a small world,” Baekhyun greeted her with a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same question!” she spoke excitedly, and I rolled my eyes. Fuck!, she seemed nice, and if she was as attractive as her voice, I was screwed. “We’re having an office party, but I think I’m the first one to show up. I should’ve seen it coming, they’re always late. And what about you; what brings you here?”

“You know…just having a drink with my girl,” Baekhyun spoke, and I almost choked on my drink when his hand landed on my thigh, turning me around, so I could properly meet his ex. “Today’s our monthiversary,” Baekhyun added, and I politely nodded my head, confirming his words. It was weird, and regardless of my crush on him, it was unacceptable. He’d pay for it.

“Oh, then I won’t be interrupting,” she said kindly, wishing us an auspicious date.

“Sorry, I didn’t think this through,” Baekhyun apologized when his ex walked away. “And thanks for keeping up with the act.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I answered nonchalantly before I swept his hand off my tight. “Hands off the merchandise, Byun.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologized once again, flashing a sheepish smile. “I owe you a drink.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a cheapskate!” I teased him playfully, and Baekhyun smiled at me, shaking his head in disbelief. “Anyway...I’m gonna hit the dance floor, and when I come back, there better be a drink waiting for me,” I said, and Baekhyun nodded his head, watching me head toward the crowd.

Having drunk a few drinks and cringed in front of his ex-girlfriend, I was more than ready to flee his presence, letting the rhythm take control over me. Keeping my distance from lone wolves scattered among the people, I swung my hips from side to side. I didn’t need a partner to rock my body, showing off my moves.

“We should go,” Miyoung screamed into my ear, explaining that her boyfriend had one drink too many that night and they had already called for a cab. “Are you coming with?” she inquired, and I shook my head; I had Baekhyun to keep me company. “Are you sure? Namjoo’s going, too,” Miyoung added but she couldn’t convince me to abandon Baekhyun.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I replied, and she nodded. “And don’t worry, I met my friend, you’re not leaving me alone. I’ll be safe.”

“Okay, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she teased, and I grinned at her before I gave her a hug. “Text me when you get home safely.”

“Okay mom,” I answered her with a roll of my eyes. When she was about five meters away she mouthed something which I read ‘don’t have too much fun’, but I could always get it wrong. Though, it was unlikely since she had used to use that line pretty often.

The next song played by the DJ wasn’t as good as the previous one, so having lost my interest I came back to the counter, sitting down beside Baekhyun.

“Whoa, you weren’t lying,” he commented, and I just shrugged, looking at the drink which he had got me. “You know how to move.”

“That’s creepy. You were staring, weren’t you?” I asked him, but Baekhyun just shot me a glance which was saying ‘are you kidding me?’ Of course, he had stared at my killer moves!

“I was, just like every guy in the club,” he admitted shamelessly, making me blush. I didn’t care, though. I had been drinking and dancing, my face had to be red despite the make-up I had put on. “You can’t blame me, I’m a simple man.”

Oh, so Baekhyun wasn’t completely indifferent.

He could be swayed.

Even by me.

When we finished our drinks, Baekhyun insisted on walking me home, and though, it was a shame he didn’t have an ulterior motive to do so, I couldn’t bring myself to reject his proposal. It was fun to be around him alone, and I’d talk to him until he’d want to stop.

“I’m hungry, should we get some pizza?” I asked when I felt a twist in my stomach. I had drunk all these drinks, and now I was craving something greasy, so my hangover wouldn’t be so severe in the morning.

“You’re reading in my mind,” Baekhyun admitted, and I pulled out my phone, scrolling down my contact list, searching the number of the pizza place near my house.

“With a lot of meat, some pepperoni peppers, and some extra cheese?” I asked Baekhyun, and he instantly agreed. At least pizza topping-wise we were a match.

“Marry me,” Baekhyun said, yet I couldn’t treat him seriously.

Trying to refrain myself from grinning, I cleared my throat when someone answered my call with a generic greeting. Quickly, I recited our order, hoping I didn’t sound too drunk from them to assume it was a prank of some sort.

“Great! Thank you,” I said as I hung up. “Our delivery should be done within thirty minutes, so we better speed up if we want to make it before the delivery guy,” I added, and without any further questioning, Baekhyun picked up his pace.

“Should we stop by the liquor store? You know that beer and pizza make the most iconic duo, right?” Baekhyun questioned excitedly, and I laughed so hard, I forgot about my feet which hurt like hell because of the heels I was wearing.

“I should have some in the fridge,” I remembered, and Baekhyun smiled in relief. “But if I’m mistaken, we would have to settle for coke or tequila. Choose your fighter,” I added, and it was Baekhyun’s turn to chuckle.

“Okay, so I guess the problem is solved,” he said, looking at me, noticing my weird walking. “Are you alright? Do you want me to carry you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; I’m a big girl,” I declined his offer, though I was very tempted to agree since it would be a perfect excuse to touch him. With a glint in his eyes, Baekhyun took a step towards me, as if attempting to lift me up, but then I mirrored his actions, stepping away from him. Talking to him was addicting, and I wasn’t ready to find out how being held by him would feel. At this point, I’d never get over him.

“Ah…the bitter taste of rejection,” Baekhyun mused playfully, inhaling the night’s air. “So that’s what it feels like…utterly terrible,” he added, as we started walking.

“You seem you’ve got over it rather quickly,” I remarked, and Baekhyun just smiled.

“What’s the point of dwelling on so much?” He asked, but I didn’t know the answer. Baekhyun was right, and if everybody had his mindset, break-ups would be much easier to deal with. “I tried. It didn’t work, and I have no regrets.” Why did it sound so simple?

“Are you a life coach? You definitely sound like one,” I teased, but Baekhyun didn’t even bother to comment on that. “You’re not charging me for this session now, are you?”

“The first session is free, but when you come for an advice again, you better take some cash. I ain’t cheap.” Baekhyun carried on with the charade, and I started laughing. “But then again, you gave me a tip how to deal with Jiwoo and Hongbin, so I may give you a discount.”

“How much? Fifty percent off?”I asked excitedly, clapping my hands vigorously.

“It’s a total rip-off! I thought of giving you like…I don’t know…five percent?”

“Hypothetical discount of a hypothetical session…” I wondered as if trying to calculate how much this friendship with Baekhyun would hypothetically cost me. “I think I hypothetically can’t afford your companion. Sorry, but I have to save up for the lovebirds’ wedding gift. And speaking of which; what are you getting them?”

“What? Do I have to give them a gift? I thought the torture I was going through was enough to make up for the gift. It isn’t, is it?” he asked, but I firmly shook my head. “Damn, I don’t know, they already have everything.”

“Right?” I asked, being glad that finally, someone agreed with me. Jiwoo and Hongbin were a terrible couple; they possessed everything, so buying them something new verged on a miracle. “I don’t know, either. We could have a whip-round, so we could club together for their honeymoon. As far as I recall, they haven’t decided on the destination yet.”

“Right now, the only trip I can afford is a bus ride,” Baekhyun retorted, and at this point, my stomach started to hurt due to excessive laughing. It’s his fault, though I wasn’t mad.

“It’s okay; they have expensive taste, anyway,” I answered with a shrug. Jiwoo and Hongbin would probably like a trip to Hawaii or any other fancy island, and that kind of entertainment was way over our budget. “Then, we have to get them something handmade, something that cannot be purchased at the regular store.”

“This wedding is so problematic,” Baekhyun commented, and I nodded, agreeing with him. “Why have I even agreed to participate in the preparations? It’s too much of a hassle.”

“Pretend it’s a practice before your wedding,” I advised, but Baekhyun just rolled his eyes at me. “What?” I creased my eyebrows, as I realized he shot me a glare as if I was an idiot.

“I won’t be having my wedding, not when it’s so much work.”

“You don’t mean that,” I started, uncertain how to defend my stance. On one hand, I realized how much preparation the wedding needed, but then when you’re going it with the person you love, it’s worth the effort. He just didn’t meet his soul mate yet.

“Of course, I do! Do you think I’m kidding?” I bit the inside of my cheek, as I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to have an argument with him about it, and thankfully, fate was on my side tonight, since we already reached my apartment.

“We’re here,” I announced excitedly, showing Baekhyun the way upstairs. By the time we climbed the third floor, I was panting. Baekhyun was probably too, but he was better at faking. “One more and we’re there,” I spoke, guiding him to my modest flat.

Clumsily, I fought with the lock, but Baekhyun was checking something on the phone, not realizing how much time it took me to open the door.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said, once I swung the doors open and threw the keys on the counter. Quickly, I kicked off my shoes, and while Baekhyun was busy with studying my apartment, I made a beeline to the kitchen for two glasses and the unfinished bottle of wine.

“It’s cute,” Baekhyun commented, as he sat down on the couch, his eyes still roaming around the interior. “You’re reading in my mind, I was slowly getting sober.” He said casually, reaching for the glasses, setting them on the coffee table in front of him.

“Do you mind if I change?” I mentioned, pointing at my outfit. He thought I looked amazing wearing it, but I wasn’t going to suffer in that dress, just because he enjoyed the view. I’d rather sit in a simple T-shirt and pajama pants; my chances with getting into his pants were lost a long time ago. It was just a friendly hangout, and I wanted to be comfortable.

“Yeah, sure,” Baekhyun answered, beaming at me with one of his bright smiles. “You go change, and I’ll pour us wine,” he added, and I ran off to the bedroom, pulling the dress over my head. Baekhyun was sitting in my living room, and I wasn’t going to waste time being away from him. I had done a lot of stupid things, but this one wasn’t to be another one.

Swiftly, I searched for the set of clothes which now was my pajamas and changed into it. It took me three minutes tops, but when I returned to Baekhyun, he already paid for our delivery, setting the pizza box on the coffee table.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked, taking a seat beside him, reaching for the biggest slice of pizza with the pieces of meat.

“Don’t mention it, you’ll pay the next time,” he answered casually, and I almost choked, given the fact that Baekhyun hinted he’d not be entirely grossed out by the idea of meeting me again. It was comforting, but then I didn’t want to read too much into it. One nice word from him, and I’d seriously start to plan our wedding which was obviously ridiculous.

“Obviously,” I said, trying to sound casual. It was such a simple gesture on his side, but then, it gave something to look forward to. He had better mean it.

Munching on the food, I quickly reached for a remote to turn on the TV. Of course, I had left it on TLC, and right now, my guilty pleasure was being aired. Fucking Say ‘Yes’ to the Dress! What else could it be?

“You seriously watch that crap?” Baekhyun asked in hopes I’d deny. Instead of firmly shaking my head, I shrugged, flashing him a sheepish smile. “Whoa, you’re really something.” He added, and I quickly took a gulp of wine, buying myself to come up with a convincing lie. How could I vent about wedding preparations when I was watching shows like this in my free time? I couldn’t let him think I’m a hypocrite.

“You know…I’m a chick, and it’s a chick channel. You can’t blame me.” I defended myself, but Baekhyun didn’t seem too convinced. “It’s like I’d judge you for watching Top Gear. That would be weird, wouldn’t it?” Baekhyun nodded, chewing on his food. “That’s what I thought,” I spoke confidently, returning to the greasy slice of pizza.

“Do you think you have more of that?” Baekhyun asked, tilting his head in the wine’s direction. After he had poured us drinks, the bottle was empty and judging by the look on his face, he wished to have a refill. “Another glass would help me erase this terrible scene from my mind,” he added, mentioning the argument the bride had with her bridesmaids. “I hope Jiwoo will be just as picky as that chick. You deserve it for making me watch.”

Rolling my eyes, I set the uneaten pizza slice back in its box, as I stood up, “let me check, I think we’ve run out of wine, but I should have some whiskey on the stock, is that okay?”

“I just want to forget, really, a bottle of bleach would do.”

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun angst #exo smut #baekhyun scenario #exo #happy birthday baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fanfiction #fanfiction #friends to lovers au #wedding au #slowburn #baekhyun slowburn

[fabermemorialrink]

some mistake, part 5

When exactly is something going to happen in this story, you may ask. Soon, but the pacing will be super weird, I tell you. In other news, to answer a question that I am too dumb to understand how to tumblr-reply to, this story isn’t yet on AO3 because it’s very unfinished, but hopefully someday I’ll get it together! Thanks for reading so far!!

Derek’s first year at Phillips Andover finally draws to an end, and it's as he’s locking his dorm room closed that he takes a deep breath and decides that yes, he's got this. He can make it through the next three years.

Summer passes in a blur of lazy days spent lounging at the Met trying to find inspiration for his summer writing assignment and hot afternoons on the balcony looking out on the city. Derek rides four different airplanes and swims in two different oceans; he visits family down the east coast for the Fourth of July and hits up Chowder in early August to see all the local sights in the Bay Area. Chowder takes him to San Francisco where they walk along the wharf and gawk at fish at the aquarium. He drinks milk tea full of custard and eats enough egg tarts to last a lifetime. They go surfing and Derek manages to trip while underwater, causing Chowder to go into heroic lifeguard mode even as he's shrieking barely censored profanities in alarm. C helps him pick out a tiny orange crab keychain for Dex that Derek wraps protectively under several layers of tissue paper.

Derek returns to New York to hang out with his parents before their schedules de-sync again. Mama takes him to the ballet while the other two are busy. He goes with Mom to Central Park where they eat ice cream and people-watch for an entire day. Dad decides they should try a glassblowing class together while he's not needed for a few blessed days at the company. Derek makes a clear paperweight with a golden-red heart, like a flame suspended in crystal. It's pretty and pointless and it makes him think of Dex, who'd hate to know what Derek's comparing him to. He wonders what Dex is doing for the summer. Is he working somewhere else, or still doing his odd jobs in the forest? Derek can imagine him working in a hardware store half the week and on the docks for the other half, plus baby-sitting duties on top of it all. Dex has never talked about his family, but he seems like he would have siblings. Derek's never asked if Dex is home-schooled, though he suspects it might be the case. Why else would he have so much time to spend in the woods? He figures he'd have learned by now if Dex went to Andover High. Maybe he attends the technical school in town?

There are a lot of things he still doesn't know about his best friend. It's sad, he realizes as he watches sunset dip into twilight over the skyline. He knows little things, like Dex's favorite cookie and that he likes all bugs except mosquitoes, and that he knows how to ask for a glass of water in French and Russian. He knows that Dex is afraid of the undertow in one of the forest's brooks, and that he has a collection of odds and ends that's been bestowed upon him by the forest crows (which Derek maintains is the most YA protagonist shit that he's ever heard of).

But none of the big stuff. Where Dex lives, what his parents do, how many siblings he has. What his hobbies are and what his dream job was when he was a little kid. Whether he's ever broken a bone or his favorite Halloween costume or the first person he gave a real valentine's card to in middle school. Who he is when he's not with Derek. Who he is when he's not in the woods.

Derek doesn't even know Dex's real name.

That's a part of the rules though. Derek knows that, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Early at the start of sophomore year, Derek finally takes Chowder into the woods with him. Chowder waffles between being excited to meet Dex after so long and wary of all the rumors that still float around the school.

“Do you think Dex knows about all the ghost stories?” he asks as they trek across the field. “Do you think he’s ever seen a ghost?”

“Even if he has, he probably wouldn’t admit it to me,” Derek says. It seems like the kind of thing Dex would remain tight-lipped about. Dex can talk for hours with Derek about fly fishing and carnivorous plants and the nitrogen cycle, but important subjects like Dex’s birthday and rumored exorcisms have him clamming up before Derek can even think of an objection.

“Maybe he’s shy because he thinks we won’t take him seriously! Nursey, you’ve gotta tell him that I won’t laugh at him. I mean, unless he does something hilarious. He sounds like a funny guy.”

Derek isn’t sure where exactly Chowder got that idea from, but Chowder does have a hidden streak of schadenfreude under his naturally caring personality. He and Dex probably have that in common. Derek’s been chirped enough times by both of them for injuring himself whilst just trying to live his life.

Shit. What if they get along too well? Not that Derek’s jealous or anything. He just doesn’t wanna get ganged up on by these two terrors.

They enter quietly, with Chowder making a suppressed fuss over every cool thing they see. Derek brings him to his hollow tree, where they huddle together trying to listen for ghosts, or birds, or any other sign of life. Nothing appears, as always, so they lie there trying to decide if they should take digital photography or sculpture next year.

“But think of how sick it would be if you woke up and were like, ‘oh I sure would like some wheaties-’”

“C, wheaties, really?”

“ ‘-wow am I glad I can eat out of this mad awesome bowl I made in sculpture with my buddy Chowder!!’” Chowder’s New York accent is so exaggerated it warps into Jersey, Appalachian, and leprechaun by the time he's done.

“Okay, but consider this: you, fifteen years in the future, sitting at your desk coding or some shit. You look to your right, it's to a stunning framed photo of your beautiful spouse and your beautiful kids. You look to your left and see a gorgeous photo of yours truly that you keep on your desk to remind you of what a hella cool idea it was to let me convince you to take photography!”

“Pretty convincing, but why does ‘hella’ always sound so wrong coming from your mouth?” Chowder ponders, which is when Dex pokes his head into the hollow and observes them needling each other about regional slang, Chowder starting to put Derek in a headlock.

“Yeah, I think I'm gonna go,” Dex says blandly, ducking back out as Derek tries to pinch behind Chowder’s knees.

“No, wait, hold up,” Derek gasps out as Chowder lets him slip free. He falls to his knees, about to introduce them to one another when Chowder releases him like deadweight and springs to his feet outside the tree.

Chowder opts for a wave at the same moment that Dex reaches for a handshake, and they wind up swaying their hands around in that dance of indecision, until they settle on some sort of awkward introductory fistbump mush. Derek clears his throat to pretend he isn't laughing. Without further delay, Chowder jumps right into his spiel, full speed ahead.

“Hey, Dex! Nursey’s told me all about you. You can call me Chowder! I know you have these, um, special rules, but I swear I won't break them, so I hope we can be friends too. Not to pressure you or anything! Acquaintances is fine! People in casual acknowledgment of each other, or whatever! It's all good!”

He finishes by tossing up his arms in a mix of declaration - here I am! the famed chowder! - and apology, which Dex watches with a sort of baffled fascination in silence. He looks somewhat overrun, Chowder drops still after his stream of crescendoing words, and Derek has flip-flopped from being afraid they'd like each other too much to being terrified they won't like each other at all.

But Derek’s told Chowder all the rules before, made him promise to remember every single one or Dex would blow his fuse and murder them both, and it pays off, because all Dex does is take a deep breath before meeting Chowder’s greeting with his own slightly flabbergasted one.

“Hey...Chowder. Nursey talks about you all the time. But I didn’t realize you were, uh. So exuberant?” Dex scratches at the base of his skull, watching Chowder like he might solve him if he looks long enough.

“Oh my god, it’s too much, isn’t it? Shit, sorry, I know, I know, I'm way too excited, but like, Nursey’s my closest friend here? I still feel like the ‘new guy’ with everyone else, and you’re his best friend, and I just thought it’d be ‘swawesome if we could also be...something? I should just shut up, sorry-”

“No! No, ch- calm down,” Dex says, biting back the ‘chill’ that Derek is positive he was about to let slip. Derek cackles internally, expressed as a smirk, and Dex glares at him before continuing. “You’re fine. I just don’t hang out with people much. Besides this guy,” he says, jerking a thumb and Derek, and how he manages to make it sound both fond and contemptuous is impossible to understand. “I need to adjust, but it’s not a big deal. You're kind of refreshing.”

Chowder goes from raincloud to solar flare in under a second, beaming at Dex so brightly that the redhead staggers momentarily under his light. “Really? I mean, since you mostly talk to Nursey, and he’s a huge dork-”

“What,” Derek interjects.

“-I mean, I love him and all, but…”

Chowder stops to give him a pointed look, which Dex notices with a stifled laugh, and he claps C on the arm.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, the lines of his frame finally loosening up. “I’m with you on that one.”

Derek eyes them suspiciously. “Yo, are you two just here to slander my name, or-”

“Oh! I brought you a burrito!” Chowder interrupts, swinging his backpack around to present his prized offering to Dex, who accepts it with an unholy gleam in his orange demon eyes.

Chowder had wanted to bring a gift for their “host” because it’s only polite, and Derek has learned by now that Dex, despite being a self-professed unadventurous white American, will eat basically anything Derek offers. Junk food, spicy food, vegan food; “anything but bugs” seems to be the general rule. Regardless of his height and a fair amount of muscle from what Derek can make out under Dex’s loose flannels, Dex’s poor dietary choices can't be doing him any favors.

“Wow, thanks,” he says blankly, trying to absorb the burrito through its foil wrapper with his stare.

“Go ahead; we’re down to chill while you eat,” Derek says, and Dex tears into it, dropping to sit up against the roots of Derek’s tree. He's toting a canvas bag that he dumps in favor of food.

“What's in the bag?” Derek asks.

“Garbage,” Dex replies. “No, seriously, I was picking up litter,” he says when Derek tries to sneak a peek after that unsatisfying answer. True to Dex’s word, there's nothing but wrappers and styrofoam and cigarette butts.

“Whoa, that's great! Nursey says you’re really into nature and science, but I didn't know you were such an environmentalist!” Chowder, squatting next to Dex, bounces on his heels.

“It's not quite like that,” Dex says, words only a little muffled by all the food he’s crammed in. “I'm not planning to study this at college or anything, but- it's just something I do. I take care of the forest.” He scrunches his mouth on one side as he tries to find the words; Chowder waits patiently until he starts explaining. Both of their hands soon join in the conversation as Dex gives Chowder an overview of what he does in the woods all day. Derek watches as they string together movement and sound, orchestrating words with every sweep of their arms. There’s poetry in it, but Derek is content to let the words flow through him without trying to capture them.

He lets them talk without giving much input, happy to sit back and see where things go. Around him, the forest is quiet and light, an island of respite from outside. Conversation between the other two runs easy, a comfortable air already settling around them, and Derek lies down to rest his head on Chowder’s shin. He feels almost completely at ease.

He doesn't realize he's dozed off for a short while until he’s woken by the sound of his name from Dex’s mouth.

“Y’know, I'm, uh- I’m glad Nursey has you at school. He was- I think his first semester was hard for him. But you’re actually normal and nice, unlike all those dyed-in-the-wool old money jackasses. And me, who lives in the fuckin’ woods.” Dex’s voice is wry, but truthful, and Derek studiously keeps his eyes shut so Dex doesn’t stop talking. It feels slightly disingenuous to be listening in like this, but when else will he get the chance to enjoy Dex being the secret sap that he is?

Chowder, perfect as he is, hasn’t moved at all since Derek passed out on his leg. He keeps his legs still, though Derek can feel that his upper body must be moving as he speaks. “No, you're super cool! Living like a book character from one of those outdoorsy survival books like The Hatchet? And you're really nice too!”

“I’m really not,” Dex says around a smile; Derek can tell as much even with his eyes shut.

“Even better, then,” Chowder declares. “It's good to have at least one friend who’s kind of a dick.”

Dex’s laugh slips out, raucous and surprised, and Derek bites his lip to keep from laughing himself. “That's a role I can play,” Dex replies warmly, and for the first time in his life Derek is truly, legitimately glad he came to Andover, if only for the chance to meet these two.

With a loud yawn Derek visibly rouses, stirring on Chowder’s shins. He meets Dex’s upside-down gaze and crosses his eyes even though it makes him dizzy, just to see the way Dex’s mouth twitches as he raises an eyebrow.

“Good nap?” Chowder asks.

“Of course; you're the best pillow I could ask for,” Derek replies, and both his friends snort.

“Don't sugarcoat it, Nursey. I know I'm all bones down there,” C says, nudging Derek with his knee to drive the point home. “Good thing you woke up. I was just about to ask Dex for camping tips! He lives in the woods, you know. Oh, you probably do know - have you seen his house before?”

Derek, stretching his arms wide enough to almost punch Dex in the side, finally lifts himself off Chowder as he tells him, “C, he doesn't actually live in the forest. He just spends like 85% of his time here.”

“Ha, yeah, what he said,” Dex says hurriedly, taking another bite of his burrito. “This is really good; thanks, C,” he mumbles, cramming the rest in and tossing the tin foil ball into his rubbish bag.

Chowder goes supernova when he notices Dex using Derek’s nickname for him, and dives into an extended analysis about the burrito places he's encountered so far in the northeast, and how they can never compare to the ones back home. Dex, used to Derek’s rambling, impassioned treatises about food, flashes him a knowing smile and settles in to listen.

When sunset draws close, Dex walks them to the field. Derek stays behind a minute to dig up a few pieces of trash Dex didn’t notice: glass shards and what looks like a crumpled dryer sheet. Carefully, he wraps the glass pieces so he doesn’t cut himself and jogs to catch up with C, who is saluting Dex goodbye and starting to walk swiftly backwards out from the trees.

“Hey, wait for me,” Derek calls, but Chowder shakes his head, yelling back, “I’m not gonna get stranded in pretzel prison again!” as he hustles across the grass at an alarming rate while waving at Dex.

Derek resists the urge to pull a face, but Dex notices his displeasure anyway, asking, “Pretzel prison? What the heck is that?”

“Team movie night. Coach always buys these unsalted wheat pretzel sticks and someone gets stuck with the responsibility of eating them. Usually it’s last one through the door; C learned this the hard way.” Derek wrinkles his nose, then gets an idea. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to-”

“I’m not going to pretzel prison for you, Nursey.”

“Weak.” Dex bats Derek’s thumbs-down away, his face a ruddy pink. Odd. “Why do you look like a Valentine’s Day candy display?”

“Shut up, that’s why.”

“Ooh, nice burn,” and when Dex just rolls his eyes, Derek decides it’s time for his customer satisfaction survey. “So, um, Chowder’s cool, right? You guys had a lot to talk about.” A flutter of worry lands on his chest at the thought of them somehow hating each other, regardless of any evidence saying otherwise.

“Yeah, he’s really- uh, he’s great. How do you handle it? He’s so...dazzling,�� Dex hisses. He looks overwhelmed still, a tinge of pink on his cheeks. He keeps glancing away from Derek to return another little goodbye wave to Chowder, who's shuffled backwards quite a ways on the soccer field, waiting for Derek despite his fear of low-sodium snacks. Dex’s gaze won't hold for long though, and keeps skittering back to rest safely on Derek, who doesn't make him act like a shifty corner dealer. Suspicious.

“Holy shit, you have a crush on Chowder,” Derek accuses when he realizes the truth.

“I don't have a damn crush-”

“Your face is fluorescent pink right now, you liar-”

The color only worsens. “He gave me a hug, okay? I haven't hugged anyone in years, and he's good at it, so sue me.” Dex’s choppy robot arm movements aren't doing him any favors. “And you know I turn red at everything; it doesn't mean anything, Jesus.”

“Years?” Dex's family must not be big on physical affection. “You should've told me. I could hug you.”

“Why the hell would you hug me?”

Derek fixes him with his sternest frown. “You're clearly hug-deprived; it's my duty to fix that.”

“It's really, really not. Stay back, Nursey, don't you come any cl- aaaurgghhh!”

It's unintentional, of course, but when Derek latches on for a hug and unavoidably knocks them to the ground, Dex lands in a painful heap on a cluster of roots and rocks, and he groans miserably into Derek’s shoulder.

“Shh, shh, there there. I'm here now.” Derek uses one hand to pet gently at Dex’s hair; Dex wriggles anemically in his grasp for a moment before sagging into the ground, his face still buried in Derek’s shirt. He’s solid under Derek’s weight, all his sharp corners leaving Derek comfortably uncomfortable.

“Thanks. Now please leave.”

Derek already knows he’s going to be turned down, but he can’t help asking on the off chance that one day Dex decides to accept, so as they walk to the treeline he asks, “You sure you don’t wanna come crash movie night? We’re watching Toy Story 3. It’s supposed to be incredible.”

“They made a third one?” Dex looks pleasantly surprised, but he shakes his head. “You know me; I’ve got wood to chop and fires to extinguish. Maybe next time. Good luck on your math test tomorrow.”

Maybe next time is better than all the other previous rejections. Someday perhaps it’ll become a yes.

“Alright, Smokey Bear. I’ll save you some pretzels.”

By the time Derek catches up with Chowder, Dex has retreated back into the forest, but Derek is left pondering one glaring oddity about his friend that he’s wondered about before.

It’s been over a year, but Derek has never seen Dex cross the treeline before. At the very most, Dex will linger right at the edge of the wood, but Derek has never seen him step foot on the soccer field. That, he could attribute to some kind of superstition, but what he really wants to know is...

Does Dex actually live in the woods somewhere?

His stories - the ones about Bitty the baker and his boyfriend J, about Lards and Cam and April and the party girls - mostly seem to happen in the woods. Could it be that they all reside in some kind of wilderness commune?

Dex talks more about his friends than his family, and Derek would assume that Dex just has a shitty home life, or terrible parents, but the few times he does mention them in passing during vague anecdotes of his childhood, he always sounds fond. Sometimes he seems envious of the good relationship Derek has with his parents, but as if he misses them. Maybe his parents passed, or there's some other complicated situation with his folks, but Derek doesn't know how to ask without making Dex feel trapped and on edge, so he continues to keep his mouth shut and wonder about all the sad possibilities.

Because there are times he wants to ask more, wants to press his luck and tell Dex, hey, you're my best friend and I'm here for you; you can tell me anything. Like when Derek asks why Dex has such strong feelings about the fishing industry, or where he grew up, because sometimes his inflection and the draw of his vowels doesn't quite match any of the Massachusetts accents Derek’s used to.

Or when Dex traces those three letters on his hatchet, KAP, and his eyes go dark and wistful before shuttering when he notices Derek watching.

But Derek is patient, and if he needs to wait a lifetime until Dex is comfortable enough to tell him all his forest-kept secrets and the memories he holds close to his heart, then he will. He will wait until they're both ready.

#nurseydex #nursey #dex #chowder #omgcp fic #some mistake #hey i love the frogs

[zeroviraluniverse-blog]

10 Facts About The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Visit Now - http://zeroviral.com/10-facts-about-the-adventures-of-huckleberry-finn/

10 Facts About The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

On its surface, Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is a straightforward story about a boy and a runaway slave floating down the Mississippi River. But underneath, the book—which was published in the U.S. on February 18, 1885—is a subversive confrontation of slavery and racism. It remains one of the most loved, and most banned, books in American history. 

1. HUCKLEBERRY FINN FIRST APPEARS IN TOM SAWYER.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is a sequel to Tom Sawyer, Twain’s novel about his childhood in Hannibal, Missouri. Huck is the “juvenile pariah of the village” and “son of the town drunkard,” Pap Finn. He wears cast-off adult clothes and sleeps in doorways and empty barrels. Despite this, the other children “wished they dared to be like him.” Huck also appears in Tom Sawyer, Detective, and Tom Sawyer Abroad, as well as the unfinished Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer Among the Indians.  

2. HUCKLEBERRY FINN MAY BE BASED ON MARK TWAIN’S CHILDHOOD FRIEND.

Twain said Huck is based on Tom Blankenship, a childhood playmate whose father, Woodson Blankenship, was a poor drunkard and the likely model for Pap Finn. “In Huckleberry Finn I have drawn Tom Blankenship exactly as he was,” he wrote in Autobiography. “He was ignorant, unwashed, insufficiently fed; but he had as good a heart as ever any boy had.” 

However, Twain may be exaggerating here. In 1885, when the Minneapolis Tribune asked who Huck was based on, Twain admitted it was no single person: “I could not point you out the youngster all in a lump; but still his story is what I call a true story.”

3. IT TOOK TWAIN SEVEN YEARS TO WRITE THE NOVEL.

Huckleberry Finn was written in two short bursts. The first was in 1876, when Twain wrote 400 pages that he told his friend he liked “only tolerably well, as far as I have got, and may possibly pigeonhole or burn” the manuscript. He stopped working on it for several years to write The Prince and the Pauper and Life on the Mississippi.

In 1882, Twain took a steamboat ride on the Mississippi from New Orleans to Minnesota, with a stop in Hannibal. It must have inspired him, because he dove into finishing Huckleberry Finn. In August 1883, he wrote: “I have written eight or nine hundred manuscript pages in such a brief space of time that I mustn’t name the number of days; I shouldn’t believe it myself, and of course couldn’t expect you to.” The book was published in 1884. 

4. LIKE HUCK, TWAIN CHANGED HIS VIEW OF SLAVERY.

Huck, who grows up in South before the Civil War, not only accepts slavery, but believes that helping Jim run away is a sin. The moral climax of the novel is when Huck debates whether to send Jim’s owner a letter detailing Jim’s whereabouts. Finally, Huck says, “All right, then, I’ll go to hell,” and tears the letter up. 

As a child, Twain didn’t question the institution of slavery. Not only was Missouri a slave state, his uncle owned 20 slaves. In Autobiography, Twain wrote, “I vividly remember seeing a dozen black men and women chained to one another, once, and lying in a group on the pavement, awaiting shipment to the Southern slave market. Those were the saddest faces I have ever seen.”

At some point, Twain’s attitudes changed and he married into an abolitionist family. His father-in-law, Jervis Langdon, was a “conductor” on the Underground Railroad and housed Frederick Douglass.

5. EMMELINE GRANGERFORD IS A PARODY OF A VICTORIAN POETASTER.

Huckleberry Finn parodies adventure novels, politics, religion, the Hatfields and the McCoys, and even Hamlet’s soliloquy. But most memorable may be Emmeline Grangerford, the 15-year-old poet. Emmeline is a parody of Julia A. Moore, the “Sweet Singer of Michigan,” who wrote bad poetry about death. So does Emmeline, according to Huck: “Every time a man died, or a woman died, or a child died, she would be on hand with her “tribute” before he was cold. She called them tributes.” Along with bad poetry, Emmeline paints “crayons” of dramatic subjects, such as a girl “crying into a handkerchief” over a dead bird with the caption, “I Shall Never Hear Thy Sweet Chirrup More Alas.”

6. A PENIS DRAWING ALMOST RUINED THE BOOK.

Twain, who ran his own printing press, hired 23-year-old E. W. Kemble to illustrate the first edition of Huckleberry Finn. Right as the book went to press, someone—it was never discovered who—added a penis to the illustration of Uncle Silas. The engraving shows Uncle Silas talking to Huck and Aunt Sally while a crude penis bulges from his pants. 

According to Twain’s business manager Charles Webster, 250 books were sent out before the mistake was caught. They were recalled and publication was postponed for a reprint. If the full run had been sent out, Webster said, Twain’s “credit for decency and morality would have been destroyed.” You can view Kemble’s original illustrations here.

7. MANY CONSIDER HUCKLEBERRY FINN THE FIRST AMERICAN NOVEL.

“All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn,” Ernest Hemingway wrote in Green Hills Of Africa. “There was nothing before. There has been nothing as good since.” 

While this statement ignores great works like Moby-Dick and The Scarlet Letter, Huckleberry Finn was notable because it was the first novel to be written in the American vernacular. Huck speaks in dialect, using phrases like “it ain’t no matter” or “it warn’t no time to be sentimentering.” Since most writers of the time were still imitating European literature, writing the way Americans actually talked seemed revolutionary. It was language that was clear, crisp, and vivid, and it changed how Americans wrote. 

8. THE END OF THE BOOK IS OFTEN CONSIDERED A COP-OUT.

A major criticism of Huckleberry Finn is that the book begins to fail when Tom Sawyer enters the novel. Up until that point, Huck and Jim have developed a friendship bound by their mutual plight as runaways. We believe Huck cares about Jim and has learned to see his humanity. But when Tom Sawyer comes into the novel, Huck changes. He becomes passive and doesn’t even seem to care when Jim is captured.

To make matters worse, it turns out that Jim’s owner has already set him free, and that Huck’s abusive dad is dead. Essentially, Huck and Jim have been running away from nothing. Many, including American novelist Jane Smiley, believe that by slapping on a happy ending, Twain was ignoring the complex questions his book raises.

9. THE BOOK IS FREQUENTLY BANNED.

Huckleberry Finn was first banned in Concord, Massachussets in 1885 (“trash and suitable only for the slums”) and continues to be one of the most-challenged books.

The objections are usually over n-word, which occurs over 200 times in the book. Others say that the portrayal of African Americans is stereotypical, racially insensitive, or racist.

In 2011, Stephen Railton, a professor at University of Virginia, published a version of the book that replaced that offensive word with “slave.” Soon after appeared The Hipster Huckleberry Finn, where the word was replaced with “hipster.” The book’s description says, “the adventures of Huckleberry Finn are now neither offensive nor uncool.”

10. TWAIN HAD SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT THE BOOK’S CENSORSHIP.

In 1905, the Brooklyn Public Library removed Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer from the shelves because, as librarian wrote Twain, Huck is “a deceitful boy who said ‘sweat’ when he should have said ‘perspiration.'” Here’s Twain’s reply: 

DEAR SIR:

I am greatly troubled by what you say. I wrote Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn for adults exclusively, and it always distresses me when I find that boys and girls have been allowed access to them. The mind that becomes soiled in youth can never again be washed clean; I know this by my own experience, and to this day I cherish an unappeasable bitterness against the unfaithful guardians of my young life, who not only permitted but compelled me to read an unexpurgated Bible through before I was 15 years old. None can do that and ever draw a clean sweet breath again this side of the grave. Ask that young lady—she will tell you so.

Most honestly do I wish I could say a softening word or two in defence of Huck’s character, since you wish it, but really in my opinion it is no better than those of Solomon, David, Satan, and the rest of the sacred brotherhood. 

If there is an unexpurgated Bible in the Children’s Department, won’t you please help that young woman remove Huck and Tom from that questionable companionship?

Sincerely yours,

S. L. Clemens

#10 #adventures #facts #Finn #Huckleberry #Facts