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misfitcpia · 4 months

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( layout ib : @/stcpidcupid )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . MEET THE MEMBERS OF CARAVAL !

Are you a new Freak who wants to learn the CARAVAL members? Are you trying to pick a bias? Well, you're in luck! Here is where you can learn about our resident misfits!

( tw. mentions of drugs + alcohol, implied child abandonment + abuse )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . YANG HYUNBIN, known professionally as HYUNBIN, was born as the oldest of three brothers on March 10th, 1997. When he was six years old, his father walked out on their family, leaving him to fend for himself and his brothers as their mother had become addicted to hard drugs and alcoholism and did nothing to care for her three young sons, going as far as to taking out her anger on them daily. Hyunbin became the sole parental figure of the three, and growing up, he made sure that he and his brothers had nothing less than what they needed. Meanwhile, he was scouted by Yuehua Entertainment in 2012 at the age of fifteen and trained for two years, and as soon as he graduated from high school in 2014, he debuted in the boy group UNIQ. However, he soon left both the group and Yuehua in 2015, stating that he had been mistreated and cheated out of his money by the staff there. He ended up signing with STARBORN CREATIVE later that same year, and after two more years of training, he debuted in CARAVAL in 2017.

STAGE NAME › Hyunbin

FULL NAME › Yang Hyunbin

BIRTHDAY › March 10th, 1997

BIRTHPLACE › Daejeon, South Korea

NATIONALITY › Korean

ETHNICITY › Korean

TRAINING PERIOD › Four years (Two under Yuehua, two under STARBORN)

POSITION › Leader, Lead Vocalist, Sub Rapper, Visual

REPRESENTATIVE ACT › The Ringmaster

FACE CLAIM › Chae Hyungwon (MONSTA X)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . BAE YOUNGHO, known professionally as SAGE, was born to a tech company CEO on May 16th, 1997. As the eldest sibling, he was expected to be the heir of the company to step in their father's position. However, both brothers decided to pursue their dreams as idols and auditioned for STARBORN CREATIVE in 2015. Youngho trained for two years before debuting in CARAVAL.

STAGE NAME › Sage

FULL NAME › Bae Youngho

BIRTHDAY › May 16th, 1997

BIRTHPLACE › Gwangju, South Korea

NATIONALITY › Korean

ETHNICITY › Korean

TRAINING PERIOD › Three years

POSITION › Lead Vocalist, Lead Dancer

REPRESENTATIVE ACT › The Tightrope Walker

FACE CLAIM › Park Junhee (A.C.E.)

( tw. implied harassment )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . KANEKO REMI, known professionally as REMI, was born on October 18th, 1997. She grew up listening to SHINee, Arashi, and Morning Musume with her older sister Haruko. In 2015, both girls traveled to South Korea to audition for Double Kick Company, and while Haruko was rejected, Remi passed and was able to participate in the survival show Finding Momoland. After the finale of the show, she placed third place, debuting in the final group Momoland in 2016. However, she ended up leaving both the group and Double Kick Company in January 2017, stating that she had been harassed by the staff. Double Kick Company denied these claims, and refused to pay Remi back what she stated were her 'life savings to her dream.' She disappeared from the public eye for almost two months before resurfacing as a member of CARAVAL.

STAGE NAME › Remi

FULL NAME › Kaneko Remi

BIRTHDAY › October 18th, 1997

BIRTHPLACE › Yokohama, Japan

NATIONALITY › Japanese

ETHNICITY › Japanese

TRAINING PERIOD › Two years

POSITION › Lead Vocalist, Sub Rapper

REPRESENTATIVE ACT › The Knife Thrower

FACE CLAIM › Hina (FAKY)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . SONG JAEHAN, known professionally as JAEHAN, was born as an only child on March 20th, 1998. Growing up, he originally wanted to be a teacher like his father, but later decided to become an idol when his friends dragged him to see a dance crew busking on the streets in 2012. In 2014, he auditioned for Cassiopeia Media and was accepted, training for three years before debuting in CARAVAL.

[ T̨͈͗̌ͥHͥ̽ͣ̃̔I̍̅̀̎̊S̵̙͕̀̃ I̍̅̀̎̊S̵̙͕̀̃ A̷͙ͭͫ̕ L̸̖̽̌͂I̍̅̀̎̊Ḛͭ̉̇͟.T̨͈͗̌ͥHͥ̽ͣ̃̔Ḛͭ̉̇͟ T̨͈͗̌ͥR͉̜̎͡͠U̠҉̷̙ͦT̨͈͗̌ͥHͥ̽ͣ̃̔ Hͥ̽ͣ̃̔A̷͙ͭͫ̕S̵̙͕̀̃ B̩͎͍̾ͅḚͭ̉̇͟Ḛͭ̉̇͟N̺̻̔̆ͅ C̵͉͋̔͞O̖̼ͩ͌͐M͉̅ͮ͒ͤP̧͕̒̊͘R͉̜̎͡͠O̖̼ͩ͌͐M͉̅ͮ͒ͤI̍̅̀̎̊S̵̙͕̀̃Ḛͭ̉̇͟D̶͔̭̪̻ A̷͙ͭͫ̕N̺̻̔̆ͅD̶͔̭̪̻ Hͥ̽ͣ̃̔I̍̅̀̎̊D̶͔̭̪̻D̶͔̭̪̻Ḛͭ̉̇͟N̺̻̔̆ͅ B̩͎͍̾ͅỴ̛̖͋͢ S̵̙͕̀̃T̨͈͗̌ͥA̷͙ͭͫ̕R͉̜̎͡͠B̩͎͍̾ͅO̖̼ͩ͌͐R͉̜̎͡͠N̺̻̔̆ͅ C̵͉͋̔͞R͉̜̎͡͠Ḛͭ̉̇͟A̷͙ͭͫ̕T̨͈͗̌ͥI̍̅̀̎̊V̘̪͆̂̅Ḛͭ̉̇͟. ]

STAGE NAME › Jaehan

FULL NAME › Song Jaehan

BIRTHDAY › March 20th, 1998

BIRTHPLACE › Seoul, South Korea

NATIONALITY › Korean

ETHNICITY › Korean

TRAINING PERIOD › Three years

POSITION › Main Rapper, Lead Dancer

REPRESENTATIVE ACT › The Fire Breather

FACE CLAIM › Kim Taedong (OMEGA X)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . KWON CHANGYU, known professionally as CHAN, was born to a small family with a younger sister on February 26th, 1998. Growing up, he developed a love for producing music, as his parents used to be a producer duo under SM Entertainment before getting married. He found a small part-time job at STARBORN CREATIVE in 2014, working as an assistant for only a year before deciding to change career paths to become an idol instead. Having watched and secretly practiced dance in his free time, he passed, training for two years before debuting in CARAVAL.

STAGE NAME › Chan

FULL NAME › Kwon Changyu

BIRTHDAY › February 26th, 1998

BIRTHPLACE › Gangdong, Seoul, South Korea

NATIONALITY › Korean

ETHNICITY › Korean

TRAINING PERIOD › Two years

POSITION › Main Dancer, Lead Rapper

REPRESENTATIVE ACT › The Juggler

FACE CLAIM › Lee Jinwoo / Xen (OMEGA X)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . KARIS TSAI, known professionally as TRIXIE, was born as the middle child of three on January 23rd, 1999. As she was growing up, Karis participated in every pageant possible under her mother, as she had once been a beauty queen herself before marrying and giving birth. Karis, as the only daughter, had all of her mother's desires pushed onto her since childhood, never being allowed to be a normal kid due to vigorous training and dieting. While her brothers were allowed to go to school and have friends and do extracurricular activities, she was homeschooled by her mother, and even then, most of her studies surrounded the topic of beauty. In 2013, Karis and her family traveled to South Korea to participate in an international pageant, and Karis ended up being scouted by STARBORN CREATIVE as she was busking on the streets in order to gain public attention for the pageant. Against her mother's wishes, Karis dropped out of the pageant and auditioned for the company, training for four years before debuting in CARAVAL.

STAGE NAME › Trixie

FULL NAME › Karis Tsai

TAIWANESE NAME › Tsai Baozhai

BIRTHDAY › January 23rd, 1999

BIRTHPLACE › San Francisco, California, USA

NATIONALITY › American

ETHNICITY › Tawainese

TRAINING PERIOD › Four years

POSITION › Lead Dancer, Sub Vocalist, Face of the group

REPRESENTATIVE ACT › The Magician

FACE CLAIM › Chou Tzuyu (TWICE)

( tw. mentions of a car accident, death, + bullying )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧ ｡.*✩彡 . . . JEON SUMIN, known professionally as JINX, was born on October 29th, 2000. As the middle child of three siblings, as well as being the only girl, she was spoiled a lot by her brothers and parents. When Sumin was seven years old, his mother died in a car accident, when a drunk driver lost control of his car and ran into her mother's flower shop, killing her and two of her customers. Things went downhill for the siblings afterwards; instead of being understood and helped in school, they were bullied by their peers for being motherless, and the teachers did nothing to help. Sumin managed to escape the bullying by hiding with her older brother by hiding in the music room, where she was inspired to become an idol. In 2017, she auditioned for Pandora Labels and was accepted, training there for only three months before debuting in CARAVAL.

STAGE NAME › Jinx

FULL NAME › Jeon Sumin

BIRTHDAY › October 29th, 2000

BIRTHPLACE › Incheon, South Korea

NATIONALITY › Korean

ETHNICITY › Korean

TRAINING PERIOD › Three months

POSITION › Maknae, Main Vocalist, Visual

REPRESENTATIVE ACT › The Clown

FACE CLAIM › Kim Jiwoo / Chuu (soloist)

#‧ ｡.*✩彡 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑳 ⠀ : ⠀ profile ⠀ ҂ ⠀ burn the bridge #idol!au #idol!oc #idol!addition #oc!kpop #oc!group #oc!soloist #oc!idol #kpop oc #oc kpop #oc kpop idol #kpop oc idol #fictional idol community #idolverse

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ivysangel · 4 months

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I might do multiples of these bc I have a lot to say lol: yj superboy?? I respect you and your opinion so much…..

Also Edward scissorhands without hair or scissorhands should not have made me laugh as hard as it did😭

Your new layout is CRAZY SEXY like the deep red eats SOOO SO bad my god

If I ever said anything to you ab a man, disregard :/ - 💌

HI!!! sorry i didn't respond to this sooner bae. yj superboy was my first young justice crush like goooooooood god he's so fine. him and m'gann were the grumpy bf x sunshine gf to a T. and enemies to lovers on the lowkey AND exes to lovers at one point like they were doing it all. but back to the conversation at hand, smash smash smash.

spent like an hour on this layout bc finding bratz promo pics is actually kinda hard??? but i was HELL bent on having a rock angelz theme bc (and i've talked about this before) it is genuinely my roman empire. obviously none of you guys know me outside of tumblr so ur just gonna have to trust me on this one but i am known amongst my friends for being a 2000s media/fashion doll/pop culture fiend, and bratz movies are like the pinnacle of it for me. plus deep reds are my fave colors, legit the only lipstick shade i wore for like 2 years.

#★ 💌 ★#★ messages from friends ★

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kangrl · 2 years

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mulan_bae

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xx-icons-xx · 2 years

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Drama: The Silent Sea

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yxxrxdxxblx · 4 years

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Bae Yoon Young layout

#header #icon #layout #bae yoon young icons #bae yoon young layout #bae yoon young icon

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bigbangicons · 7 years

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٩(๑> ₃ <)۶♥

#packs #beonlytaeyang #taeyang icons #icons taeyang #dong young bae #dong youngbae #dong youngbae icons #taeyang headers #bigbang #big bang icons #taeyang layouts #layouts taeyang #packs bigbang #bigbang packs #taeyang packs #packs taeyang

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ladykikyo1792 · 3 years

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Deleted Scene: Neverland Flashback (before the Football Game)

As requested by @thiscrazyfan, I’m able to provide you all with a deleted scene!

How this segment works: you’ll see commentary from me that is non-italicized. The italicized parts are the flashback/deleted scene.

This scene has spoilers for/would have taken place in Chapter 15, “I’m Learning All Your Tricks, I Can Hurt You from Inside.” I’d love to know what you think- though to keep spoilers to a minimum, please send me an ask or a message! I hope you enjoy!

In the original story layout, this scene took place after Wendy and Peter converse in the cafeteria. He follows her over to the trash can, and Wendy reminisces after Peter remarks, “Birds can’t fly if they don’t eat.”

When Wendy had returned to Neverland in hopes of saving Baelfire, she’d immediately noticed a change in the land. The sweltering jungle heat had been replaced by the cool air of a temperate forest. Massive pines had replaced the palm trees, and a few mountains had sprung up where none had existed before, as had groves of Dreamshade. Wendy recognized that plant, if none of the others- all the Lost Boys coated their weapons with it and she knew how dangerous it was.

What she hadn’t accounted for was how dangerous Peter had become. Her first few weeks on the island were filled with horrors. Lost Boys were slaughtered for the slightest infraction. Slightly almost lost a limb for mentioning his former life. Felix received a deeper scar for questioning Pan- the only time he ever had. And a member of the Indian tribe, who served as an ambassador requesting Pan’s aid- the changes in the island, especially those among the animals present, had drastically cut their food supply -had his head chopped off and sent back as Pan’s answer.

Wendy, throughout all of this, struggled to keep her calm. Each day she repeated her request to see Baelfire. Each day Peter declined. Eventually her requests morphed into demands and his refusals morphed into insults. At times she found herself screaming at him, and he merely laughed at her rage.

Seeing that words wouldn’t get her what she wanted, Wendy concocted two plans:

(1) steal some of the pixie dust she knew Peter kept hidden on the island, and fly to find Bae herself,

(2) refuse to eat until Peter relented and allowed them to meet.

She didn’t care if one plan or the other worked, or both, only that she got to see Bae. At first, Peter taunted her when she pushed her meals away. He thought she was joking. Then, he realized something was wrong. He began to try to placate her, tempting her with her favorite foods- many of which should no longer exist on the island due to the climate change -but she would not eat even those. She pushed Neverberries (which Peter had especially conjured for her) away as though she hadn’t once nearly eaten her weight in them.

Even Peter, who was confident in everything, was unnerved by Wendy’s denial of food. She couldn’t die, of course, so he wasn’t concerned about that. But he thought her behavior awfully strange.

One day, a frustrated Wendy was digging in the soil around Pan’s Thinking Tree. Her fingernails were caked in dirt, and her white nightgown was covered in brown splotches. She had dug nearly an entire circle around the tree, figuring it a likely place for Pan to hide the pixie dust- he forbade everyone from going there except him. Even so, Peter would not risk hiding it in the top of the tree, because the Lost Boys could still fly as well. So it had to be beneath the ground. It had to be. It had to. It just had to-

Wendy shrieked in frustration, sitting back on her heels. She’d been searching in the dirt for hours, and had come upon nothing. Nothing. If not here, where could the dust be? There was nowhere else. Nowhere. Peter was hardly a fool; he wouldn’t leave it anywhere the Boys or Indians would find it, and of course he wouldn’t hide it by the lagoon (though the Mermaids, admittedly, had no use for it) or on the Jolly Roger. The Thinking Tree was it.

“Looking for something, Bird?” Peter said, leaning against a nearby tree. He smirked at her.

“Peter, give me the dust-”

“Why?” Pan demanded, crossing his arms, “So you can find your precious Baelfire and leave? Never.” He strode towards her, eyes flashing, and as he moved, she noticed the telltale glint in his belt.

Of course. How could she have been so stupid?

“You have it,” Wendy said, open-mouthed, “You’ve had it the whole time, haven’t you?” Abruptly, she leapt to her feet, then launched herself at him. She scrambled for purchase, then dug for his belt. Pan laughed, dodging her attempts with ease. He stepped backwards, and she stumbled towards him, fumbling at the pouch near his right hip filled with precious dust. Pan moved just out of her reach, and now, filled with a fury and desperation she didn’t know she had, she cried out and went to him. This time, though, she did not reach for the pixie dust, but his face. This wasn’t what Pan had expected, and his mouth dropped open as she raked her nails along his cheeks. In one place, she’d even drawn blood.

For a long moment, Pan said nothing. Then, he took a handful of dust and passed it to her.

Wendy looked up at him, unsure whether this was a trap. Peter was silent, but made no move towards her. Realizing this might be her only chance, Wendy rapidly poured the dust over herself. As the green glow settled over her, she felt herself rise into the air.

Yes! she thought giddily, half-delirious, I can find Bae! We can get out of here! We can make it-

Then, suddenly, a huge weakness came over her. The pixie dust disappeared, and she fell to the ground. She nearly landed on her face, but as always, Pan caught her. This time, he held her by the back of her nightdress instead of holding her in his arms. She could see the leaves on the ground but an inch away from her face.

Panting, she placed her hands on the forest floor and pushed herself up. He released her, and she moved into a sitting position.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Peter replied, “You need to eat if you want to fly. Neverland will keep you young; it will keep you from dying; but you need to give your body something to use. You’re starving yourself, and it’s impossible to fly if you do that.”

Wendy said, “You knew this would happen, didn’t you? You knew that no matter what, I’d never get to Bae.”

“I knew,” he confirmed.

“So why...?”

“I needed you to see it for yourself. The only way you will see Baelfire again is if I permit it.”

With that, Peter had scooped her up- she was fighting back tears -and flown her to her treehouse. He tucked her into bed, much to her consternation, and then summoned all sorts of food before her. She only had soup, but he stayed with her every time she ate after that until she gained the color back in her cheeks.

The scene would then have switched back to the present where Wendy tells Peter she wants to be normal and doesn’t want to fly. I really, really liked this scene, and didn’t want to delete it, but ultimately I had to for the sake of the narrative:

1. When she returns to Neverland, Peter keeps Wendy locked in her treehouse so she can’t see Bae. She has no reason or method to be wandering around Neverland.

2. If Wendy somehow did manage to get out of her treehouse, Bae would have eventually heard Wendy was there from some other Lost Boy, and would have tried to find her. This couldn’t happen, because otherwise Wendy wouldn’t agree to Peter’s bargain for her to stay in Neverland later in the story.

3. I wanted Wendy to see how mad Pan had become, but I didn’t want it to be restricted to a simple paragraph or retelling (e.g., the Indian ambassador’s decapitation, Felix getting a second scar, etc.). Those are very big events and deserve detailed description.

4. Wendy does suffer from trauma/angst after her ordeal with Pan, however, she’s not so desperate as to go on a hunger strike in her first few weeks back in Neverland. She’s more fiery, still determined to find Bae. While Wendy later does realize Pan has control over everything and fighting him is typically pointless, she hasn’t come to that conclusion this early in the story. Not enough has happened. As such, she wouldn’t have a hunger strike to begin with.

5. Additionally, I felt it slowed down the pace of that chapter.

So, this scene was deleted, and ultimately Wendy makes a pact to live and try to avoid her Neverland memories, if possible. In doing so, that keeps the pace of the chapter up. So what do you all think? Did you like the scene? Did I make the right decision in deleting it? Would you like to see more deleted scenes? Any questions?

#dark paradise fanfic #ladykikyo1792 #deleted scenes

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fawnsite · 1 year

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#random icons #90s #leslie caron #carla bruni #christy turlington #yoon young bae #jang wonyoung #emily ratajkowski #emrata #monica bellucci #site model #female icons #coquette #it girl icons #runway icons #supermodel icons #no psd icons #layouts #high fashion

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starfirette · 4 years

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Hello! Can u please write Helena Bertinelli with a Fem!reader tomboy that's a muay thai fighter and look like super cool and cold,but in the apartment its a very soft and lovely girlfriend with Helena? (And how the birds will react when them met her) Thank you,I Love you writing and HELENA IS SUCH A BAE!!! THIS GAL NEED MORE LOVE AND SUPPORT!❤

masterlist | word count: who fucking knows | 🏷 @kurreapormaranet @emofairygay | a/n: ;0 There are some things you might want to look up on youtube so you have a general idea of what’s happening. Clinch positions, tactical stand ups, thips

The rink’s seats filled massively, stretching to every wall that bounced the cheering back and forth.

The overall mission seemed simple, but it had Helena dreading this moment since Harleen explained what needed to happen.

The trust fund brat of the devilish Rossini family kidnapped the Rossini’s pride and joy: their little baby girl, Ayala. Ayala Rossini, four years old, is the Brat’s younger half sister and the new written in heir of the Rossini fortune. The Brat, Carmen, had been written out of the will after she kidnapped the new little bird Batman was keeping under his wing. She’d been sloppy and left behind all marks of her family’s (unbeknownst) involvement. She made serval costly mistakes which included Batman’s uncovering of the Rossini family’s plans of Gotham, Star, and Jump city. Half the family became arrested.

Carmen was all but disowned by her father, whom she already resented for marrying another woman so quick after the death of her mother. To get her revenge, she kidnapped Ayala.

So, Mr and Mrs Rossini employed Harley and her rag tag team of anti-hero thugs.

To get Ayala back, the girls would have to go undercover.

Their heroic deed would get them 30k each, so that was good enough. The Rossinis are precise and focuses; they’d been willing to pay as much as they had to in order to ensure the safety of their little crime lord baby.

Now Harley had her connections. She knew a guy who knew a guy who saw a friend with a girl outside of the 31 Flavors ice cream shoppe, and this girl just happened to know that Carmen spends her free time hosting epic fights in the secret tunnels of Smallville.

It’s a long ways away from Gotham, but is a perfect place to host such gatherings. The fights are frightfully violent and brutal. Also very illegal. No one would ever know that beneath the wheat and corn fields of Lil’ Ol’ Smallville county lays an intricate mafia maze.

Carmen Rossini is notorious for entertaining the winners to a “fine dinner with wine”. The rumors go that she runs an entire harem of Thai Fighting women, using them for sexual favors and personal security.

The entire mission is actually depending on that rumor.

The plan was to send in Dinah as a participant in the rink and hope she would win and earn the attention of Carmen.

But then Dinah got bronchitis. It was a nasty case, too, in which she wouldn’t stop coughing and hacking up green stuff into tissues.

The entire thing would have been called off if you hadn’t admitted that you are, in fact, trained in Muay Thai.

You’re positive that Helena would have rather kept this a secret, because she doesn’t like putting you in harms way. It’s a nuisance to have the world’s most protective girlfriend. Heaven forbid you even get a paper cut, else she’d make you wear rubber gloves while you read a book.

The entire group (save Helena) jumped for the chance to replace Dinah with you. You’d do perfect, Harley said, sounding so confident.

You intended to be flawless in the ring.

You’d not competed since high school, when Muay Thai was still just a recreational hobby. You’d had your wins and losses, but that was before you grew up to spend majority of your time fighting mafia crime lords.

Once Dinah officially relinquished her role of the mission, you took to the heavy bags. The repetitions became intense and harsh in the following weeks. You spent every night limping into bed.

Your sweet whispers that begged Helena for a soothing massage fell onto her deaf ears. She is stubborn, and she had been attempting to force you out of this competition since the day you’d agreed to it.

You were not afraid of Carmen, or anyone else she’d make you fight against. For the sake of the little Ayala, you would do this. Besides, you tell yourself, what’s the worst that could happen? With the Birds and their abilities, there isn’t much that could happen.

Nothing would slide through the cracks.

Hopefully.

The day did come faster than you’d imagined, though. The drive to Smallville was tense, especially in the backseat where Helena was frostily ignoring you.

Harleen was road raging, passing every trucker on the two way road that didn’t exceed 65 miles an hour.

“You know the speed limit is 45, right?” Montoya asked after she had taken a long drag of a cigarette. She had her legs propped up on the dash. Between her and Harley sat Cass, who was oblivious to the chaos around her as she sang along to a pop Spanish song. “Yeah, and?” Harley quipped. She cast her bright eyes towards Montoya, a wicked smile playing on her lips.“You gonna arrest me?”

Montoya couldn’t do much but sigh in defeat. If Harley didn’t mind crashing, then she didn’t either.

Between the bickering and the loud singing of the three front passengers, you and Helena were sitting silently in the very back seats. Your head was leaned up against the window which rattled as the tires of Harley’s ‘64 Starfire rolled across the gravely road.

Helena had been refusing to speak to you since the fight you got into last night. It was a real fight. She’s made it clear that she’s against you fighting in Carmen’s ring, and is especially against you joining her harem.

You’d first thought she was afraid of disloyalty; you had promised her that you wouldn’t ever cheat on her, even if it was for a mission. But it became revealed that’s not what Helena was worried about.

She feared for your life. She fears for your life every single day. No matter how small of a task, she can’t help but worry. She lost her mother, father, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles; everyone. She’d been so helpless. She could only watch as she became the sole Bertinelli.

Helena couldn’t live on if something happened to you.

The fight ended on a confusing note. It didn’t end, per say, and you two did sleep in the same bed. However, neither of you has said a word to each other. You tried this morning, but she’d given you the snippy, cold shoulder.

As much as you hate putting her through so much anxiety, you know that you can’t back down. A girl’s life is at stake; it’s not the money you care about. Not to mention Carmen Rossini is about to make the top 50 worst criminals in Gotham County.

Harley rolled the car to a stop around a patch of gravel and dust. Everyone climbs out, rocks crunching under their shoes as they stretch and look around.

“Where is it?” Cass asks, shoving her hands in the pockets of her loose denim jacket. Her chapped lips are stained blue from the tootsy pop that she’d crunched on in the car. The soggy stick now hung from her lips, as if she had been imitating Montoya’s cigarette.

Harley locked, double checked, then re locked, then triple checked her car. She turned around, using her hands to shield her vision as she scanned the open wheat fields. “Dunno,” she admitted. “I guess I supposed someone woulda been here to meet us.”

You shifted on your feet. You wanted to try and make Helena happy before you’d at least go inside and get in the ring. The only issue is, she’ll only be happy if your forfeit now.

You would not.

Across the way, by a few yards at most, a rustling came through the wheat that came at least up to your hips.

A young man emerged; he approached the Birds with a guarded look that furrowed his thick, blond eyebrows. “You are Carmen’s guests, yes?”

He spoke with a thick accent. His honey blond hair contrasted his coffee brown features. He had a handsome face with a strong jaw, but something about him seemed off. He seemed intimidated despite being taller and broader than most.

“We are,” you answered for the Birds. “I am Y/n. I am the contestant.”

The man beckons you all forward. Helena glared at him, her hand steadily tapping the outside of her thigh. She was prepared to draw her gun and shoot anyone that could get in her way. In your way.

You tasted a bitter foam in your mouth as you attempted to stop Helena without raising too much attention.

“We––I––am here for the Carmen’s...event.”

The honey blond man tallied the Birds on his fingers, visibly distressed. “I do not thinka’ Miss Rossini expected so many of you...”

After a brief, strangled silence, the man shook his head and waved his arm along to escort you. “The bunker is just this way,” he explained. Harley and Cass walked after him.

Helena meets your eyes. Her gaze is firm, and maybe even angry. No way could you defuse that situation while still heading into the rink.

The wheat and grass crunched under your boots as you marched across the pace-by-pace clearing. A trap door in the ground lifted up swiftly, silently, as if they grease the hinges every damn day.

You remembered how this turned out for Suzie Salmon; casting one more look over your shoulder, you assured yourself with the presence of Helena.

Down the hatch, under the ground, you, Harley, Cass, Helena, and Mr Cannoli over here shuffled down the hall to a big dressing room. The entire layout felt more like a stadium then an underground crime rink. The dressing room has lush sofas and fur blankets; in the corner a SodaStream is mounted on an Ikea book table.

“Miss Rossini will join you shortly,” Cannoli-guy told you, nodding his head regally. He bowed out of the room, shutting the heavy oak door after him.

Cass jumped on the sofa. She sprawled out over the furs, kicking her muddy Chuck Taylors up. “Luxury.”

Harley snipped to Cass to get her dirty little feet off the merchandise.

You took a seat in the swivel chair in front of the large mirror. It looked like pure Broadway with the heavy lightbulbs that wreathed the glass.

“Can’t say they don’t know how to entertain a guest,” Harley squealed as she migrated to the SodaStream. “They got homemade cream soda!”

Cass jumped off the sofa to run after Harley.

Instead of facing you, Helena took a heavy seat on the couch. Her legs spread out, looking spectacularly muscular in her tight, black pants.

Unfortunately, you’re too annoyed with her to go lounge in her lap.

As much as you’d like to make amends, you know the only way to do that would be to back down. You’re going into that rink.

The door flew open at the second Harley had poured herself and Cassie a drink.

Carmen Rossini strutted in and you stared in awe. You tried not to let your jaw drop. Tall, voluptuous. Her hair is wavy auburn, her eyes deepest green.

She looked at you immediately. Reaching out for you as if you were the messiah, she chuckled. “You’re even cuter in person! Oh, sweetie, you––you do know how to drive a hard bargain. Your agent Harleen contacted me, where is she?”

Harley waved her hand from the corner. “That would be me. Ain’t Y/n a real figure?”

Scowling, Helena crossed her legs. She glared up at Carmen, and you remembered that Carmen is doing what Helena hates the most; complimenting you.

It’s not so much that Helena doesn’t like that you receive compliments; it’s just that she prefers giving them to you.

“I’m so happy to see you all here tonight,” Carmen said, clapping her hands loudly. “There’s nothing more exciting than tonight’s event. Did you know,” she cooed as she ‘boop’ed your nose, “that I’ve got people betting about two million dollars that you’ll win? I am so, so pleased that you’ve chosen to make your debut in my arena.”

You nod, your neck stiff. “I guess I’m excited?” you mumbled.

Carmen snapped her fingers. She signaled to one of her lackies to come forward. A box Is presented at your feet.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you a little something. A uniform of your own, courtesy of moi. Don’t you love it? I had your photos analyzed by a fashion expert, and they designed your shorts to compliment you perfectly.”

The high waisted, Thai shorts are a deep ivory shade, with black flowers sewn into the design. They’re the most beautiful Thai shorts you’d ever seen! Your own were cute, but simple, considering that you didn’t usually think to be a fashionista while working out.

“They’re amazing,” you admitted. Over the top? Definitely. Did you expect anything else? Honestly, you’re not sure. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Carmen, as she smiled, reached into the deep pocket of her red silk kimono-blouse. In her hands is a thickly wound prajoud, made of fine threads and paracord. The black and red jumped out at you like an old friend.

“I hope I got the rank right?”

“You did,” you say as you took the prajad from Carmen. “I could have brought my own if you’d asked.”

“It’s really not a big deal, my darling,” Carmen purred. She ran her hand through your hair, taking note of the silky feeling of each strand. “I will be watching. There will be people outside the door waiting to escort you to the arena when you’re done dressing.”

Her fingers are heavy with her bejeweled rings. The heavy tear shaped gems get tangled in your hair.

“You have ten minutes,” Carmen adds.

Helena glowered after her as she flitted out of the room. Her heels clacked down the hallway following the click of the door shutting in place.

Montoya took a long drag of her cigarette before she chortled.“You just gonna let her mark her territory like that?”

Helena didn’t say anything.

“Oi, Katniss,” Harley said loudly.

Helena’s cloudy eyes finally look to her friend. “What?”

“Carmen Rossini basically stole Y/n from you, and you let her!”

As you pulled out of your jeans, you sent Harley a little glare. “No one owned me to begin with,” you snapped.

“Hey, I’m all for women’s rights,” Harley exclaimed. “But it just seemed like—,”

“I know what it seemed like,” you snapped. “That’s the entire goddamn point, isn’t it? Get in her good graces?”

Case choked back her soda. “If that’s your idea of getting in Carmen’s creepy ‘good graces’ you gotta do better than that. You didn’t act sexy or flirt back at all!”

Helena stood to her feet. She brushed down the front of her black zip-up sweater. “I’m waiting outside,” she declares before stomping out with a frown wrung on her mouth.

Harley grimaced as the door slammed shut.

“Kid, come on,” Montoya sighed.

“I’m right,” Cass scowled. “You know that I am. We knew from the start that in order to get the little girl back, sexual favors would probably have to be granted.”

You pulled up your shorts. “Can everyone shut up?” You asked.

“What’s that?” Cass proceeded to ask, given she couldn’t talk about Carmen anymore. She pointed at the arm band that lay over the counter.

“Prajoud,” you tell her. Thank you pulled out of tour shirt. The heavy duty sports bra was already in place, but it gave you major uniboob.

“What does it do?” Cass asked again. Unable to contain her curiosity, she grabbed it off the vanity and fiddled with it.

“It’s like a belt,” you explained. “Instead of wearing a black belt, I wear a black prajad.”

“Who come up with that?” Cass asked.

“Uhm, Thai people?” Harley said as though it should be obvious. She snorted and jerked her thumb towards Cass. “Get a load of this guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s alright to ask questions, guys, just try not to be annoying. ‘M a little stressed out already.”

Harley took a final gulp of her soda. “Well, I guess we know who’s not getting action tonight. And that’s Y/n!”

“Why is Helena so upset anyways? Because Carmen was flirting?”

“No,” Harley explained. “See, she’s angry because Y/n’s going out and doing this fight, one, without asking her to begin with, two, for some other little kid, and three, with a evil Italian mafia tigress. She’s projecting her childhood fear that she’ll never be able to protect anyone she loves. She’s also rash, irritable, and possessive, so it’s just a cherry on top that the plan includes Y/n using her charms to sway Carmen.”

“Bravo,” you plainly say. “It’s almost like you’re a doctor or something.”

“Yeah,” Harley grinned. “Or something.”

You pulled the prajad over your forearm. You pulled the band tight, holding the laces in your mouth so you could knot it tight with one hand. You looked in the mirror, unsure of what to think of yourself.

You kicked your boots off next.

In socks, you turned to look at Harley and Cass. “Let’s do this,” you sighed.

Helena had been waiting loyally outside, leaned up against the jamb. Her eyes flitted up and down your figure, before rolling up towards the ceiling. “Let’s do this,” you said, sounding as if you’d already lost.

Marching down the hall in tow of the honey blond Italian, you tried to make eye contact with Helena. She was good at ignoring you. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s angry, stressed, or both.

Riddled with anxiety, you wish that she would look at you, or hold your hand at the very least.

At the entrance of the arena, you could see it was filled massively to the brim of its walls. You hadn’t realized how far underground you really are until you looked at the expansive seating. The rink’s seats filled massively, stretching to every wall that bounced the cheering back and forth.

You stepped to the stairs that wound up to the cage. You could smell the sweat and the matts; above the sound of the crowd cheering, you could hear your blood rushing fast in your ears.

“Find Ayala,” you muttered in Harley’s ears. “I don’t want to be here longer than we have to be.”

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, but they were momentairly dulled by a silent question. “I thought...?”

“No,” you said firmly. “We shouldn’t be here any longer than we have to be,” you tell her. “I’ll stay here, I’ll do my thing; you take everyone and look for that girl. If you’re not done by the time the match is over, I’ll distract Carmen.”

Harley couldn’t respond by the time you were dragged up the stairs. Outside the cage’s gate, you were given a little table at which you could rest at. It had a pitcher of ice water, some glasses, a washcloth, and a bottle of brandy. You took a large drink of the brandy first. You peeled off your socks.

It felt like a blur as you stepped into the cage.

Your opponent was your size; she looked your weight, too. You suppose that’s fair, at least. It’s not like in the movies. The real competitions are done by weight and height.

You turned your head to give one last glance to your friends.

Helena stood beyond the cage, her hand resting over the gun holster. Her eyes were fixated on you.

You had to look away.

Tying your hair up in a tight bun, you walked out onto the mat. Your opponent did the same; meeting you half way, you two shook hands.

You didn’t exchange names; that would only make it harder.

“The rules,” a voice boomed around the stadium, “are there are no weapons to be permitted in the arena. Please watch as the fighters return to their corners then begin the match on the sound of the bell. The match will consist of two rounds, each lasting seven minutes.”

You hovered in the corner of the cage. You stretched and jogged in place. You have enough training for this. You do. You know that you can do it; hopefully, you will.

The bell rang. You take a massive sprint out into the middle of the ring where your opponent had already paced out.

You wound up a punch. Your feet lifted off the mat as you leap into the air, and you delivered the blow to the side of her face.

Her teeth crunched under the impact. It was such a hit that you saw it spew out of her mouth, and hit the cage.

The crowd exploded into a frenzy.

Hovering at your face your hands remained in constant motion. Her kicks were well calculated and her movements tactical. She gave away all of her tricks, though, by looking twice at the target she would next go for. If she looked at your side once too many times, you would crouch and use your arms to block your ribcage.

The sweat that built up made the more precise attacks difficult. Your punch began sliding off her face, keeping you staggering forward, and in her wide open range.

You were struck once, twice, then thrice on your left cheek. It sent blood and saliva dribbling down your chin.

Your prajad began to slip as you struggled to regain your balance.

The girl’s long leg extended forward. Her foot jabbed a strong thip into the center of your stomach, practically digging against your bladder.

The bell rang, then, marking the end of the first round.

You fell into your corner with a wheezing gasp. You crawled for the little table. You drank directly from the pitcher.

You looked back to the crowd, half expecting to see a flash of unfamiliar faces.

Helena still remained at the ringside. Her hands are clenched through the cage, and her eyes are desperate to meet yours. You were confused. Why hadn’t she left with Harley? Did Harley not need her? Or did she want to stay and watch?

You felt stronger with her just a few yards away.

You staggered to your legs, where your knees wobbled like jello on a plate.

The two minutes of rest time had ended, and the bell rang once more. You slid back rather than go for her first.

She sauntered to you like a bear, her shoulders hunched and her fists close to her face. She swung hooks and uppercuts that you could just barely dodge. You were close to slipping backwards a few times.

“Y/n, watch out!” Helena shouted suddenly.

You couldn’t see the girl racing towards you like a battering ram through your blurry vision. Her fist slammed over your temple. You swore you could feel your brain tumbling around your skull as you fell to the floor.

You clutched your ear with your bare hands. Pain gushed out of you like water. You thought you could see it, visibly, as it poured down bright green and crystalline.

It wasn’t there; it was the spots dancing in front of you. Disorientation is a real bitch.

One tactical standup later, you’re back up on your feet. You pushed yourself forward, forcing the remaining energy you had out of your hands. You grabbed the girl by her long pony tail and dragged her into a tight clinch. She attempted to swim out of it; the friction of her wrists against your neck burned.

You tugged her down, driving a sharp knee into her stomach. She stayed in your clinch for a long time, gasping for air as she couldn’t evade the knees. You finally released her. She staggers back. She falls onto her ass, visibly shaken up and at a loss for breath.

The crowd began to scream at you. Some did a countdown, others urged the other girl to get back up.

It was too late for her.

The bell rang, marking the end of the seven minutes, as well as the second round. She had lost, and you had won.

You limped towards her. Despite your own pain, you lifted the girl onto her feet.

“Good game?” she rasped.

“Hell yeah,” you wheezed.

It felt like the ultimate orgasm to go back and gulp down the water. The cold, damp washcloth made a good compress for your busted lip. You judged by the twitching of your left eyelid that you had a pretty sizable welt there.

Helena ran to meet you as you limped down the stairs out of the cage. She threw her arms around you tightly. “You’re alright,” she gasped.

You tried to hug her back. Your arm hung loosely over her lower back as you tried to laugh. “Did you doubt that I would be?” you asked her. “Where’s Harley and Cass? Montoya?”

“They went to find the girl,” Helena said in your ear. “I couldn’t leave you...I had to stay and watch. I had to make sure.”

She pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. “Let’s go,” you said firmly, “before Carmen comes for us.”

Helena helped you leave the arena. By the time you vanished, the stadium was already announcing it’s second match, featuring a woman named Selina. The people went into a hectic frenzy of excitement when Selina’s name was announced over the speakers. You knew as you were walking out she would never be able to escape this place.

Honey-blond-haired Italian guy jogged to keep up with you. “Miss Carmen asks that you wait in the dressing room,” he called out. “Yeah, yeah,” Helena called out. “We’ll be there.”

He followed you down the hallway, keeping several paces back to maintain a steady watching distance. He paused as he watched you and Helena head straight into the dressing room.

Sitting on the sofa inside is Harley, Cass, and a little girl sleeping in Harley’s arms. You were shocked. For a four year old girl, Ayala was incredibly small and fragile looking. Her olive skin and auburn hair is just like her elder sister’s. The hollows beneath her eyes are dark and colored by her greenish veins.

“Let’s scadadle,” Harley hissed as she rose to her feet, though struggling to keep Ayala in her arms.

You all rushed out of the hallway, quickly as to make it before Carmen could come back from the arena.

“Where’s the exit?” Cass asked.

“It’s this way,” Helena says. She pointed straight down the hallway. “The car’s waiting for us above the trap door.”

“Yeah, unless someone stole it,” Cass mocked. “What if we get locked in? Like in Hotel California?”

You could hardly begin to understand what Cass was saying. Her words were jumbles of sounds and her figure a blur of her dark hair and red jacket.

“We’re not getting locked in,” Harley exclaimed. “Let’s just get outta here!”

Helena climbed up the ladder first. She punched the door up, then open. “Give me the kid,” she said quietly.

Harley struggled to lift Ayala up.

Helena scooped her easily into her strong arms. Ayala stirred awake and whined as she became more and more aware. “I want to go home,” she mumbled, her voice quiet and empty.

“We’re taking you home, pumpkin,” Helena assured the little girl. “I’ve got you.”

As Cass was going up the ladder, a loud clatter arose down the tunnel. “Uh oh, spaghetti-os,” Harley whistled. She pushed you up the ladder next. “I’ll meet you guys up there,” she promised, sounding entirely confident. “Montoya,” she whistled between her teeth. “Feel like doing some target practice?”

It was the first time all day that Montoya smiled.

As you climbed up, you heard Harley’s shrill laugh between the shots of two, little handguns.

“Into the car,” you wheezed to Cassie. She looped her arms around your waist to help you limp into your seat. “Buckled in?” you heard Helena ask the little girl. She looked so shy despite all that’s going on. The curls of her hair were brushed behind her ear as Helena held her tightly. “You’re going back to your parents.”

Harley came running out seconds later. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she exclaimed.

“You have the keys!” Cassie shouted back.

Harley jumped into the drivers seat. She honked the horn loudly. “Renee, let’s move it!”

Montoya was limping a few feet away, struggling to keep up Harley’s pace. She crawled inside and as soon as she did, Harley pressed the gas, and sped away.

“Smoking is so bad for you, you know that, right?” Harley chastised. “Maybe if you just used the nicotine patches I bought you for Christmas, then you wouldn’t have so much trouble keeping up with us.”

“Take the patches,” Montoya huffed, “and shove them up your ass.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You leaned back into the headrest of the rear seats. Helena held Ayala beside you, stroking her hair gently as she held her cellphone to Ayala’s ear. Her parents were on the other end, and you could hear the cries of relief.

You met Helena’s gaze, and you managed a smile on your busted mouth.

“I love you,” you mouth to her.

“I love you, too,” she replied.

#helena bertinelli x reader #helena bertinelli imagine #my helena babes #crossbow killer #crossbow killer x reader #huntress x reader #huntress imagine #dceu imagine #dceu x reader #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey #mary elizabeth winstead #starfirette writes

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yveslunar · 5 years

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CHAE YOUNG!!🍄🌱pretty layouts for u! u_u

no repost bae, like or reblog if you save.

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iknowthisgirlfromgeorgia-blog · 5 years

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cliché | 01

☽ pairings: hoseok x oc, taehyung x oc

☽ genre/warnings: fluff

☽ wordcount: 2.4k

☽ chapters: 1 | 2 (coming soon)

☽ ➝ summary: moving abroad for university comes with many surprises. a new house, a new life and most of all . . . new neighbours.

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ : *

“I feel like I’ve been reborn,” Mae sounded out with an airy chuckle, making Saffron shake her head gently, suddenly awakened from her daylight slumber. Today was their first day abroad.

A whole new country, a whole new house and a completely different life awaited the two just behind the corner, and Saffron couldn’t really say she was ready for it. The girl didn’t like changes, not at all, but this one simply had to be pursued. Moving to Canada was a big step for two college-aged women, but life can throw you into deep waters unexpectedly and without a warning. That’s what happened to her and Mae.

The letter that came in the mail one Saturday evening was a document Mae would cherish for the rest of her life. How could a little, beige envelope bring one such pride and joy? Well, how could it not? Getting into the college of your dreams was something any young, ambitious human would be ecstatic about, and that's exactly what Mae was clutching her acceptance letter from the University of Ottawa.

Saffron herself was simultaneously upset and excited about the news. Mae would finally leave for Canada to pursue her dream, but on the downside . . . she’d be gone from her life, for who knows how long? The female couldn’t really stomach the thought of her best friend being gone for the entirety of collage. Heck, wasn't that when most people peaked? Saffron didn't want to experience her best without Mae. Yes, FaceTime and WhatsApp existed, but she knew maintaining a friendship would be difficult that way. Not even mentioning timezones.

What would happen to seeing each other every other day? What about movie nights and banana pancakes on Sunday mornings? Oh, Saffron loved Mae’s pancakes. Waking up at noon, dressed in her comfiest sweater, leaning against the kitchen island while watching her friend prepare breakfast was a ritual Saffron would never want to abandon. The light, fluffy dough engulfed in a thick, sugary syrup and, if the season allowed it, fresh berries was delectably a taste of heaven. The mere thought of the morning treat made the female’s mouth water with nostalgia and pure sentiment.

Enough pancake talk, though. The red-head females head felt like a storm cloud, filled with paroxysms of electricity and emotions she couldn’t really fathom with the little energy she had. There weren’t many options in this case, and the two both knew it. Saffron could stay there, in Seoul. The city they have both lived in for almost two decades now . . . or do the unthinkable. It took a long, troublesome week, but the decision was finally made.

And it was the unthinkable option.

They left within a month of the letters arrival. Mae was sceptical of Saffron's choice at first, worried about her friends sudden, possibly risky decision, but the girl wouldn’t be turned down that easily, and they both knew that very well.

”I’m coming with you, and that’s my final decision,” were Saffron’s final words as the two made their way past airport security. Her voice didn’t dare tremble, and that had to be a sign that she was sure of her decision to the very core of her being. Mae was silent this entire time, exhausted from hours upon hours of planning, packing and worrying, but Saffron couldn’t help but notice the slightest smile form on the girl’s lips once they boarded. It stayed there for the remainder of the flight, giving Saffron hope for a successful fresh start.

Here they were now, sitting on the floor of their brand new living room, surrounded by countless cardboard boxes scribbled by black Sharpie. The condition of the house was more than decent, especially considering its long history of occupants! Cozy, affordable and somewhat well situated; the perfect combination for two highschool graduates. Not to mention the landscapes! Besides being surrounded by a nice neighbourhood, their new house was a short distance away from a forest. Who knew what secrets roamed about in the area? It was only a matter of time until the female would be able to pounce around, discovering every corner of the area.

Saff’s hand traced the groves between planks of the wooden floor, noticing each bruise and crevice. It felt so cold and strange compared to the carpeted floors of her old apartment. The walls were empty and dulled, but clean. A paint job was possibly needed, but how hard could that be? It was difficult not to picture the moment the two would be able to start decorating them. Perhaps a bookshelf full of Mae’s favourite cookbooks, or an array of modern art pieces found at garage sales? The thought of marking the house as their own itself was enough to make Saffron’s heart skip a beat, cheeks flushed with excitement.

”Earth to Bae Saffron?” The female’s head shook once more, realising she was zoning out. ”Jet lag?” Mae questioned with a soft smile, lips stained a soft crimson.

To Saffron, it was always surprising how effortlessly put-together the girl could look. Ash blonde hair frizz-less, tied into a loose sock-bun with a few strands of hair framing her heart-shaped face. Her casual look was completed with an oversized, maroon hoodie draped over her slim figure. Simple, yet exquisite.

Saffron let out a soft sigh pass her lips at the girls playful question. What was occupying her mind wasn’t fatigue, but a sense of excitement and hopefulness for the future. After all, the two hadn’t had a chance to meet any of their neighbours as of yet, or even explore the area. Despite the obvious anxiety that came with meeting new people, Saffron was quite adamant on experiencing that part of moving. The female didn’t exactly have many friends back in Seoul, so starting fresh could be a chance for new relationships, platonic or not.

"Hey, you," Mae started off once more, perhaps realising her question wasn’t to be answered anytime soon. “I did some thinking overnight, and I landed on a pretty neat idea,” She remarked, voice laced with excitement and pride.

Oh boy.

Mae's ideas had a tendency of being outgoing, and usually involved doing things Saffron normally wouldn't even think of. “What if we went out to meet our neighbours tomorrow? Try and settle in better.” She proposed, a smile lingering on her lips as she shrugged slightly, trying to come off as nonchalant. That was the typical Mae, her and her strange gift of knowing exactly what hr friends were thinking of at the given moment. Scary, but oddly amusing.

“Sure, why not.” Saffron answered, giving the older female a friendly smile and nod. It was quite relieving to have the female suggest socializing herself. After all, it was a burden off of Saffron’s shoulders.

“We are settled pretty close to the university campus, after all. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had more students scattered around the neighbourhood.” She chimed, brushing a stray fragment of hair behind her ear before digging her hands in the box labelled ‘books’.

Saffron acknowledged her friend's comment with another brisk nod, before letting out a yawn, shifting her position to stand up with a pained groan. ”You’re getting old!” Mae laughed wickedly at her younger friend’s aching, getting an eye-roll thrown towards her as a sign of playful annoyance. Saffron couldn't help but let out her own series of giggles at her own misfortune, arms now extended to stretch out her joints.

“Damnit!” Mae cursed out suddenly as Saff’s own eyebrows stitched together in question. “What’s wrong?” She asked, as Mae cupped her face with a groan. ”I'm missing a box. It should be in the garage, or outside on the porch, perhaps . . . ”* she finally muttered, getting a soft ‘oh’ from her friend once she realised the issue. “I could fetch for you.” She told her simply, giving the older a reassuring grin. It’s not like she had much more to do, anyway. Unpacking boxes was boring and hefty, and the girl would rather be doing anything else if she was to be frank.

”Would you? Ah, you’re such a dear.” Mae spoke hoarsely, doing her best to imitate an elderly lady, which she definitely nailed. Giving her one last chuckle, Saff hopped out of the room, humming a soft tune to herself. Nothing in particular, merely a series of tones that went well together. Hand sliding into the pocket of her shorts, she made her way down the stairs and into the living room area. It didn’t look much different from any other room in the house, considering all that it held was a bunch of cardboard.

Saffron’s eyes searched each door in sight, as she finally managed to locate the entrance which surprisingly didn't have any distinguishing features that would help her in her task. Embarrassingly enough, the girl was still in deep confusion about the layout of their new home, even a week into moving in. She sighed in frustration, nimble fingers lacing around the metal doorknob before turning it with ease, door creaking upon pull.

The weather was better than she would’ve ever expected from Canada. The sky was a deep grey shade, interrupted by a few rays of sunshine coming through. Air fresh and slightly damp, a neat compromise that Saff was somewhat okay with. The girl breathed in, arms raised as she allowed herself for a more thorough stretch, without any of Mae’s comments this time. "Now, where the hell is that damned box, huh?"

”Hey, you!” Saffron looked around, eyes widened at the sudden, unfamiliar voice coming from somewhere, clearly nearby. “Yeah, you. With the orange hair!” Her breath caught in her throat as she realised she was obviosuly the one being spoken to. She couldn't imagine anyone else sporting the bold shade of ginger she rocked.

Eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised, she finally caught sight of the only other human in the perimeter.

A man, roughly in his twenties. Hair a soft brown, curling here and there to create an effortlessly flawless brunette arrangement. Skin fair and spotless even from several meters away, Saffron could clearly make out his dark brown eyes and pink lips which were twisted into the sweetest grin the girl had ever seen.

Despite the delicious sight in front of her, she didn’t allow herself any closer to the male without the proper questioning. “And who’s speaking?” She asked with a furrowed brow, a slight scowl on her face. She could only blame her hostile attitude on staying inside for the past week.

The man let out a warm laugh, and Saffron realised the silliness of her question only then when it was too late. He was sitting on the porch of a neighbouring house, fingers loosely gripping onto the rim of a can of soda. “Just a friendly neighbour. Isn’t it obvious?” He stood up, leaving the comfort of the wooden step as he made his way towards the fence. Saffron’s cheeks flushed a heated pink, partly due to the embarrassing nature of the situation, but mostly because of the man’s awfully confident stature. Hands rested against the top of the wooden fence, the female realised it was short enough to act as support for the man’s head as he propped it in the palm of his hand comfortably.

“I saw the moving van come through not too long ago. You’re new around here, aren't you?” He questioned, making Saffron take a cautious step forward. “We are. My best friend and I moved in about a week ago from Seoul. For university, and all that,” the female responded, arms crossing as she cocked her head to the side, slightly taken back by the man’s kindness.

”Seoul? We have more in common than I thought!” He exclaimed in child-like excitement, making Saffron chuckle softly at his beaming face.

“I moved here with my friend a year ago. Both of us study at UO,” Saffron’s eyes left his frame for a second, hearing the front door open once more, a familiar creaking making her wince.

“Saff?” Mae called out, approaching the short girl briskly, hand hooking around her shoulder comfortably. The man gave the newcomer a polite smile, studying both women closely. "Saff, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m Hoseok," He remarked.

“Nice to meet you, neighbour. I’m Mae, we moved here this week," the female chimed out, giving Saffron's shoulder a squeeze of encouragement. "But you probably know that already considering how long you two have been talking,” Mae chuckled teasingly, placing a hand on her hip as she gave Hoseok a nod.

Saffron gulped at the girl’s statement, realising the entire reason she was outside in the first place. “Funnily enough, we've been very keen on meeting our neighbours. It’s nice to walk into one of them like this!”* Mae acknowledged, getting a nod of agreement from her friend and a warm chuckle from their neighbour. "Well, I'm very happy we ran into each other, then!" he beamed, giving Saffron a conforting look. Was it visible she was nervous?

"Hey, we should do a formal greeting one day. Are you busy tomorrow?” Mae inquired, giving Saffron a gentle shake. Was she teasing, or did she want the female to take initiative? Whatever it was, Saffron was too focused on forming coherent sentences in her head to say anything.

“Hobi!! Where the hell did you go, again?!" Another male voice came from inside the house, slightly deeper than Hoseok’s and muffled due to the distance. “Well, that’s my call. I’ll see you around?” He winked, before running back on his porch and disappearing back into the house, leaving behind only the possibly empty can of pop.

Saff let out a sigh as soon as the man left her field of vision, hands reaching to rub at her temples furiously. “This was . . . ” Mae started off, as she let go of the girl’s shoulder and proceeded to walk into the garage, locating the box she was looking for. “ . . . tiring?” Saffron finished off, earning an amused chuckle from Mae. “I was about to say exciting, but that works, too,”

✧ ･ﾟ : * ✧ ･ﾟ : *

#bts #bangtan #방탄소년단 #oc #original character #kpop #idol oc #idol #fanfic #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #tae #hobi #drabble

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ongnable · 6 years

Text

spring rain

a/n: This is basically the whole words flow series repackaged in ‘standard structure’. It’s all paragraphed without all my normal non-standard grammar (wow, it sounds kinda oxymoronic).

Some of the writing is different - plot is the same, but writing is different!

Between bullet-fics and paragraphed layouts... which would you guys want to see more of?

You slammed your laptop shut. Nothing was coming to mind.

No. You want to laugh at how good you’ve become at lying to yourself. Many things came to mind. Problem was that nothing was good. Barely decent.

12 titles. 6 blockbuster movies. 3 on-screen adaptations. That’s everything under your name. Writing has always been your passion. Until - it stopped. And suddenly - it’s not.

At least it’s not anymore.

When did it begin? Since when has your writing become nothing more than numbers and figures on lined paper? How long has it been since you’ve scratched ideas on coffee shop napkins with the busy chatter of students surrounding you, instead of sitting in front of your lighted screen on Saturday nights with takeaway?

It’s never been talent unlike what people said (unlike what your publisher wants the public to think). You wrote what you felt. What you experienced. Or what you wanted to explore.

But how were you supposed to do that when you’ve cut yourself off from the rest of the world?

Instead of a commercial hit; a shallow reflection of what people expected from you– you wanted something that felt like you. Maybe a romance… so real silent tears would slide onto the cold concrete jungle of Seoul. Or a tragedy… so honest it’d knock you off your feet and sweep you up to the clouds.

You wanted less pennies and more petals.

Your last editor - Bae Jinyoung, had quit when you told him of your intentions to publish your next title under a pseudonym. To begin anew with a fresh start. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t supportive of your idea since you two were friends first and business colleagues second; but it was rather because of the fact that the two of you were friends, that he thought he couldn’t do the right job for you.

“Justice for your work,” he'd said, as if Jinyoung thought he couldn’t do his job well enough, even though you knew he just lacked the confidence - being one of the youngest in the industry.

Hence why you were currently staring at blank walls; waiting for the new editor that Jinyoung had promised you to arrive. The door clicks open a few seconds before the clock hits noon and he arrives exactly on the hour.

Hwang Minhyun.

Long fingers wrapped around the door knob, and feline features peeked through. The ethereal aura around him unchanged.

“Minhyun… oppa?” You weren’t sure whether he’d mind the familiar form of address, though you were high school acquaintances - you wouldn’t say you were particularly close.

He was the image of serenity personified; there was always something almost inhuman about Hwang Minhyun. Something that made him hard to approach. Everything from his existence to the words that flowed from him.

You still remember that nagging envy in your chest the first time you’d proofread for Minhyun during writing classes.

“Have you ever thought of publishing your work?” you’d asked, awed by his writing style - the way his words poured out like waterfalls over a cliff; and sentences streamed into each other as if his work was the delta to an ocean of emotions.

Reading his writing was like feeling a wave crash over you. Cleansing. And yet, it was as dynamic and turbulent and violent as could be despite the gentle currents he swirled his words in. Minhyun was the one that should be sitting on your chair.

What he said had caught you off guard - it had somehow resonated though out the years.

“I don’t want anyone but those I choose to read my work.”

It had been a shock when you heard that he thought that way when the only aim you had was to make it big. To survive through your dreams. Looking back, maybe he intended those words for you too. A warning to treasure your work.

“Y/N? I didn’t know that I’d be editing for you when Jinyoung told me that a new writer was looking for help.”

Ah. Right. Not many people could put a face to your name. But Minhyun obviously could. Jinyoung probably didn’t expect Minhyun to recognise you and marketed you under a fake name. Panic unintentionally rose within -

“Um. If it’s not convenient for you-“

“I don’t mean that I don’t want to, Y/N.”

That’s Hwang Minhyun. Honey sweet voice. All the right words. But despite their firmness - he never came off strong.

“I was just surprised. You’re very successful, Y/N. Jinyoung usually refers me to the young struggling ones that have just started out - but I don’t think we’re going to have much trouble since I’m working with such a talented writer.”

Reassuring words meant to rid you of worry. You’ve received them numerous times this year from numerous editors that have never read your drafts before. Attracted to nothing but your name.

But for some reason. Minhyun sounds sincere, and you find yourself falling for his words.

Because Minhyun says it as if he believes what he’s saying.

“I think I know your problem.” Flipping through your newly printed draft - still warm from ink - Minhyun has a frown marring his handsome face. Regal features twisted in the unfitting position of a court jester.

"I always tell writers who are just starting out to stop trying to write a whole story all at once. In one sitting. To write small chunks whenever inspiration hits because they come in contact with so much each day. So they should just write down everything and come back to those snippets at another time… but you’re different,Y/N. You’re not a new writer. And you’re not lacking experience”

You read into everything he’s saying without much trouble. Minhyun says it so bluntly because he knows you’ll understand without harsher words.

You’ve been writing for too long. Started too young. You have too much experience. Your style is too recognisable.

“Tell me what to do then.” Despite your tone. Minhyun seems to know that what you say isn’t a challenge. It’s desperation.

A cry for help.

“For now. You need to stop writing completely. You’re not writing because you want to. This - work. It’s just that. It’s work. It’s not a piece I’d want to read.”

He hands it back. Places it on the desk as he slides it away from himself, back in front of you. Where it lays untouched. You don’t pay any attention to it.

“And I can tell it’s not something you want to read either.”

It wasn’t.

No other person has tried to understand your writing this way before. They’d simply read it as a consumer - never as another person trying to decipher your feelings. All of them had told you it wasn’t good.

But never why. Why wasn’t it good? Why they didn’t connect. Why it wasn’t enough. Because none of them could understand the reason those perfectly organised lines of words didn’t read right. Why they’d felt empty emotions despite the touching storyline and eloquent vocabulary.

"I want… I want pretentious words that cut deeper than spilled ink on paper.”

You wanted beautifully arranged words that were still relatable. Untouchable but close at the same time. To create a planetarium of sorts. Achievable and reachable. But seemingly out of the atmosphere.

"Does that make sense?”

“It does,” and he knows. He understands.

Minhyun takes your hand in his as if its the most normal thing to do, running his thumb down your knuckles until it reaches the disappearing dent on your pinky. A writer’s callous.

How long has it been since you last held a pen instead of clutching your laptop?

Walking out as if his job was done, your eyes widened at the words he left you with.

"You want less pennies and more petals"

You don’t see Minhyun until three days later. Having taken his advice, you’ve been bingeing the drama series you never finished, re-reading the comics of your childhood, buying the new editions released for their 20th anniversary.

None of them give you the inspiration to write; but appreciation comes much easier. It’s a lighthearted way of enjoying stories - plots, the artistry; and to not think of it as inspiration for your own work. Something you haven’t done in a while.

On Monday morning; Minhyun shows up like the genie’s collected pixie dust and sprinkled it into your eyes. Out of the blue and looking beautiful, the long winter coat he’s wearing flattering on his tall figure.

“Come on.” He presses the space bar to pause your show abruptly. “I’m taking you out for coffee. Take a jacket with you.” In the years that you’ve known Minhyun as a student, he’s never struck you - as well ... demanding.

But the way he almost manhandles you into your thickest coat and insists that the two of you walk in the face of cold wind instead of taking the bus is a welcome surprise. Especially when he expertly fixes your hair when it gets attacked by the breeze, or the way he slips your hands into his pocket when you complain of them going numb,

In the years that you’ve been apart, he’s somehow transformed from the shy good looking class president into a self assured man who knows exactly what he wants to do with his life.

And how to make your heart skip to a rhythm akin to the raindrops against the slanted windows of your attic.

Did he know that everything he does is heart fluttering?

The two of you finally reach a small cafe; delicate handwriting on black chalkboard menus, small round tables paired with hard chair, and glinting gold fixtures dangling dim lights. It’s by no means minimalist in it’s old world love affair, missing the contemporary modern flair of most coffee shops you frequent for their convenience instead of taste. You love it, but how did Minhyun even find this place?

I don’t remember him ever drinking coffee…

“Have you had coffee here before? My friend - Seongwoo - runs it.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice as Minhyun says it, and you’re happy that he’s found such great friends to share joy with. Found kind people to surround himself with. “He says that he makes the best in town.”

“He says?” A smile creeps its way onto your face. Maybe Minhyun hasn’t changed that much.

“I don’t like coffee.” A giggle escapes you, and you’re not sure whether it’s the grimace on his face as he mentions the bitter drink that brings you laughter, or if it’s the fact that some thing never really do change.

“Then why’d you bring me to a cafe?”

“Because I know that you like coffee.”

The rush of warmth you feel has nothing to do with the steam rising from the hot coffee that arrives at the table.

A set of perfect not-so strangers face each other, and the curtains to your abandoned show have raised again.

Minhyun takes you out to eat more frequently from then on, popping into the your office randomly. It starts on Monday, then Wednesday and Friday, growing into every other day of the week. It doesn’t take long before he’s in your office at least one meal a day; making sure you’re actually having three meals a day and you fall into a comfortable type of companionship, whereby he frequently spoils you by bringing you to new places

‘In search of inspiration’ is what he says, but they feel a little too much like dates for you to not worry about thinking any deeper. You needed to know where you stand, and whether you need to put your guard up. To know if you should stop lucid dreaming in broad daylight.

“Are you dating anyone right now?”

Is there any jealous girlfriend I should watch out for in my sleep?

“No.” Minhyun laughs, fennec fox-like crinkle of eyes. “There’s no jealous girlfriend you need to be careful of.”

“But why?” You’re not shy of asking. especially when the man across you is Hwang Minhyun. You’re sure he was aware of just how popular he was at school, he wasn’t a child. People knew these things. There’s no way he isn’t more popular now.

“There’s someone I’ve chosen, and I don’t want anyone else.”

Which sounds a lot like something you’ve heard before - “I don’t want anyone but those I choose to read my work.”

The way he says it, looking into your eyes as if they were an ocean he was trying to measure the depth of makes you grip onto the edge of your sweater to control the slight tremble in your hands.

Opening. Closing.

Trying to hold something that wasn’t there. You grip a little tighter onto soft jersey.

Trying to stop the urge to write.

“Y/N?” Minhyun rasps on the other side of the line, voice husky, and a nagging feeling develops in you when you realize he must’ve caught a cold. “I don’t think I can make it today.”

The line goes a little dead as you pull yourself together, working out the right words to say. It’s almost like you’ve put your ear to a seashell and you’re in a saltwater room fishing thoughts out of the water. Underwater caves sparingly empty of the nouns you’re looking for, and the verbs you want to use.

Somehow, you’ve gotten so used to having Minhyun by your side that the sudden loss of companionship will mean a strangely lonely week.

But why should you feel that way? It’s only a day or two.

“It’s fine; just focus on getting better.” You begin playing with miscellaneous objects scattered on your work area, twirling pens around your fingers, peeling off post it notes and sticking them back on top of the stack. Little things that normally bothered Minhyun. But what difference would it make today?

“Thanks. This is so embarrassing, I’m always telling you to take care of yourself and I’m the only one that falls ill.”

“Really, what am I going to do?” You joke, trying to lighten up the mood you’ve dampened. You mean it as in ‘what am I going to do with you?’ and Minhyun knows it too, but it doesn’t stop him from saying the words on his mind anyway.

“You can promise me to wearing warmer clothes, going out to eat instead of ordering takeaway, and don’t get sick as well.”

“I won’t.” You lie swiftly, answering perhaps - a little too quickly - for it not to be suspicious as you rustle through the newspapers and envelopes you kept by the door. Treasure hunting for a Chinese restaurant arranged into numerals.

“I really am sorry…” Minhyun trails off again and you cut him off to tell him to rest when you hear how much his voice is cracking.

“Honestly, just sleep. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

You’re lying down with your hand-rest as a makeshift pillow - and surely there’s going to be a imprint on your cheeks - when a sharp knock wakes you from a carb-triggered nap.

Three curt consecutive knocks that you’ve become way too accustomed to.

“Minhyun-oppa? Is that you?”

I thought he wasn’t coming over today?

“Yeah…” A sniff responds from the other side of the door, the slight cold he’s attending to revealed in his nasally tone. “I’m coming in.”

“Sure, it’s not locked.” In your own disoriented drowsiness, sleep still in your eyes, even someone as handsome as Minhyun is being registered as a blur.

It’s no surprise that you completely forget about the state of your room.

“You promised to take care of yourself.” His nose crinkles at the familiar scent of jjajangmyeon, immediately recognisable as soon as he entered your office, before his gaze falls to scan what you’re wearing (or rather - what you haven’t hung behind your chair).

“I didn’t go out.”

So I didn’t need to wear a coat.

“You probably didn’t even wear it when you went down to pick it up food earlier.”

Bingo. Minhyun knew your lazy habits too well.

“It’s no big deal. Look, I’ve let you in my office. You’re probably already spreading germs and I’m gonna end up ill tomorrow. So you should give me a long looong extension for when I need to hand you my first draft and just stay and take care of me since I’ll be sick because of you and - why are you looking at me like that?”

Pulling out the chair across you (what you now instinctively refer to as his chair); Minhyun sat, leaning his face on his palm as he tilts his head in that 45 angled way of his.

He has to know that he looks good like that. No one could ever hide anything from him if he interrogated them when looks at them this way.

“You called me oppa.” Furrowing your brows. you thought back to when you answered the door in your sleepy state. Caught unawares.

“Yeah, I did… do you… do you not like it?”

“No. It’s just you haven’t called me that since the first time we met.”

You pause. Deciphering the steady gaze he holds, un-betraying of how he feels towards the new form of address. “I can just call you Minhyun if you prefer that.”

“You can call me anything you chose, Y/N.”

minhyun oppa minhyun oppa minhyun oppa

You wanted to hide somewhere. Duck below the cold wood of your desk, lock yourself in Seongwoo’s stupidly coffee themed toilet, or even just trap yourself in that tiny fridge in the office.

You didn’t expect to feel this way about Minhyun when he came back into your life. Rushing in as a plum rain flood.

Just saying his name sounds like a confession to your ears. You must’ve already known that you’d fallen in love with Hwang Minhyun. But to hear your own confirmation was crazy.

Addictive. Strange. And utterly crazy.

You’d always loved words. Characters. The way they rolled off the voice in your mind as you internally read them out. But those three syllables.... How could someone’s name have this effect on you? How did this happen?

You’ve somehow been seduced by his showering of easy affection, and the words he said in that sweeter-than-honeyed-tea voice. To wear warm clothes, eat healthy foods, and don’t get sick. Words that gave you strength and showed you love.

Minhyun looks at you curiously, his gaze soft and focused as you get lost in driftwood thoughts down the flowing stream of having your heart stolen from right across you. Just as always, there’s never judgement in his eyes. Never any assumptions.

He remained a strong cliff of support against the crashing waves of the expecting world.

You didn’t only fix my writing. You fixed me. I am okay because of you.

you feel drowned by love as shy hands run down the waved line of your back; pushing your body flush against his and -

you love him you love him you love him

“You’re writing...” Minhyun looked up from the stack of papers - it’s the third? Fourth? Time you’ve handed him something - but the first time he’s said something instead of simply annotating. “You’ve got some of your old flair back lately. It’s incredibly stylized, but we can make it work.”

It’s a definite departure from your normal work - but since you’re releasing this as mobile novel under a pseudonym, the two of you thought trying out something new would be fun.

And you missed fun.

“Found inspiration again?” He always says that as if it’s some inside joke. But you supposed it was when ‘searching for inspiration’ somehow translated to going on a date these days. You just weren’t sure if he thought the same way.

“I guess you could say that.”

There’s a dumb smile on your face, and you’re entirely aware of how stupid you look because Minhyun is giving you a wide smile back and his eyes sparkle and you can see your own dorky face reflected in them - and god, you love that - before he looks back down at your work.

Red pen in hand, Minhyun writes small notes over your thousand-paged love song for him.

“Can I tell you something?”

He looks up from the draft, curiosity unbidden. warm and welcoming, still blissfully unaware of your love.

Is he? You wonder. Can he not tell from your writing?

“Anything.”

“I think I know why my writing is better these days.”

He urges you to continue, by putting down the draft to look at you, “hm?”

And there’s a look in his eyes that says that he knows too. And you hope he knows that it’s him. That he hasn’t misunderstood your stupid love for him as something else even more unexpected in a way that only Hwang Minhyun would misunderstand.

“I write best when I’m in love, and I used to be in love with writing. But these days I’ve found something I love even more.”

“That’s great.” The pen in his hand is dropped and he’s reaching closer to your own. Holding it as he runs his thumb along your knuckles like he always does without knowing what it does to your heart. Sending it into overdrive. "What do you love more? What have you found, y/n?”

“I found a muse for my writing. A siren to pair to my song.”

Pulling your hand out of Minhyun's, you prop yourself up.

“Hwang Minhyun, I’m in love with you”

And you push yourself to reach him - to kiss him from across the table. Too scared to wait for his response to your confession.

Only when you feel him sigh against your lips and angle his head to move eagerly against you does the tension seem to leave your body. For what feels like eternity, you let your hands run through his hair, to trail down strong shoulders and grip on his arms while Minhyun holds you firmly against him. Supporting your face with long fingers and tracing the contours of your jawline.

It’s all careful close lipped touches until you feel him pull you up onto the table and you’re about to open your mouth for more; because it’s been so long - and you crave this connection - this affectionate touch - and because it’s Minhyun - when he drops you on his lap and pulls away.

Scribbling onto your draft in fervent hurry.

“Wha-“

“You’re a liar.” A playful smile teases on his lips, feline features embracing their fox-like nature as his eyes transform into half-crescents.

“Huh?” You weren’t lying. You loved him!

“It didn’t feel like I was being drowned by love when we kiss at all.”

Blushing, heat flushing from your chest up. You finally realise what he’s on about.

Oh. The story.

“You were rain in a drought."

So he did know it was about him!

The bright expression on his face wasn’t enough to make you forget this embarrassment so quickly.

Why would he pretend to not know?

You take it back. You take it all back! He wasn’t the siren to your song - some tragic hero that needed a pair - he was a nine-tailed fox that used winsome words to seduce lost souls. A predator who’s prey was too unaware and willing, and you were just a lamb in wolf’s clothing!

“Y/N. Can you say that you love me again?”

You looked up from his chest only to see him hiding his face behind the paper- held up to leave only his eyes uncovered. The tips of his ears burning red. “Why should I?” You’re still a little mad from before.

“So I can say I love you back. I was caught off guard the first time so I could’t say it back properly.”

Oh right. You’d cut him off with a kiss before letting him reply.

He’s lucky that you forgave easily.

“Minhyun-oppa.” You used the stupid form of address you used to loathe. The one that you let Minhyun tease you about.

Your very first confession to him.

“I love you.”

“Y/N,” Minhyun reminisces back to his days of texting you to ask about assignments and staying up to wait on your replies. How he had first fallen for fancy words on draft paper against hard wood desks and chalkboard-dust rooms. Tiny letters a river of stars, dancing on milky way lines.

Fallen for a girl who realised her dreams with a lover’s mindset.

The one he let go of too early - didn’t know how to chase - only for fate to kick in at exactly the right time; and he gives you a soft smile.

The type that melted snow caps and formed streams in spring. The ones you write about to sell daydreams to young girls.

Because happily-ever-afters apparently do exist.

"I love you more.”

Loved you since a long long time ago.

masterlist.

#gosh this ended up being long #hwang minhyun #hwang minhyun imagine #hwang minhyun scenario #wanna one imagine #wanna one scenario #wannaone imagine #wannaone scenario #nuest imagines #nuest scenarios #wanna one #wannaone #words flow #spring rain #nuest #nu'est #wanna one minhyun #jas writes

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