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nuhuhwinniethepooh · 6 months

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Wanted to make a gojo fluff fic but it matches sukuna's vibes too 🥲👍🏻sukuna's scenario won tho cuz why not 🤷🏻‍♀️

Trueform!Sukuna x F!Reader

Pt.2 of A-muse, can be read as a standalone or a series depending on what you want.

Trope: Gore ( I really, seriously don't know how much is too much so please don't come after me ), violence, Fluff? ( idk if I'm twisted or sumn🤷🏻‍♀️ seems like fluff to me), Angst if you look hard enough

Preview : As the town crumble and silence surrounds the chaos, only then did he crumble at your touch.

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Sukuna was bored, bored of the same repetitive life, bored of the way he was revered, bored of everything he had and most of all, bored of the people around him, they were visibly unamusing. Barely holding on to his sanity with the little amusement he had with a massacre every now and then because for once in his life, he wanted a challenge.

Sukuna wanted someone, hell even something would've sufficed, to challenge him- to push him to his limits, to make him high from the adrenaline that can be obtained only from a death defying fight but everyone he met and saw disappointed him to no end. He was immensely disappointed; disappointed in the fact that they were all bravado, disappointed in the fact that the fight lasted only a few single minutes, disappointed in the fact that they all broke in the end, disappointed in the fact that they were all bark and no bite, disappointed in....the list went on and on.

Until he met you.

Sukuna was amused for the first time in a long while. He was amused at the lack of emotions in the chaos ensuing around you, amused at your actions, amused at the fact that you had lasted so long, amused at how you somehow managed to crumble his pride into dust and most of all, amused when you voiced your agreement to his proposal. You literally just agreed to be the queen of curses with no hesitation, of course he'd be amused- a little excited too but he'd never admit that.

But right now, all he felt was a rising rage as he watched from afar, rage against you, rage against the servants surrounding the both of you, rage against the very earth with it's flourishing bloom and most of all, rage against the slightly upward curves that graced each ends of your lips as you listened to your maid, Rita, excitedly babbling on about curses knows what ! That vermin had the audacity to not notice your smile at her words- the audacity you had to have cracked your first smile to a mere human instead of him, your husband-to-be ?!

Sukuna was angry at the fact that his efforts had gone down the drain; he had tried for months to get an expression out of you and when he was finally giving up, you finally showed him an expression different from your default face of unmoving lips and uninterested eyes that seemed to register nothing but everything at the same time. You had finally raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a peculiar look when he unknowingly knelt on both his knees to present a gift he painstakingly had customized and he had experienced true joy then, refusing to give up on his attempts with renewed motivation. You actually could react !

But now, he felt rage and betrayal at seeing your smile, however small, gracing a presence that wasn't his. Sukuna stands from his seat and walks over to you with an overwhelming aura that had all the attendants straighten their backs and lower their themselves almost as if they were trying to meld within the ground. As he stops and towers over your seating figure, he watches your head move up and your eyes gaze at him, your smile no longer present on your face- he feels disappointed, an itching uncomfortable feeling clawing at his chest.

One swift movement was all it took, a barely noticeable move before a sliced head falls down right next to your feet, the eyes of the dismembered head blinking once, twice before it finally noticed that it had gotten sliced off and falling limp with the body finally dropping on the floor with a thud. Blood sprinkled around the ends of your kimono as your eyes followed the sound only to see Rita's dismembered head resting next to your feet and her bleeding headless body right behind.

He watched and waited with bated breath, you had graced her existence with a smile so that must mean she meant something to you, which could only mean that he could finally see a new reaction other than the two reactions you showed him but alas, Sukuna was disappointed, he expected a gasp or maybe even a look of surprise but all you gave him was the same raised eyebrow, the peculiar look on your face.

The rising anger had finally reached his peak, how dare a mere woman mock the King of Curses, in front of an audience that too!! Barely audible gasps was heard before all the attendants around was dismembered from head to toe, blood and innards gushing out like rain on the pristine grass, splattering bright red all over the area.

His eyes still on yours and yours on his before he roughly grabs your arm, refusing to show the courtesy of holding out his hands out for you to take. Oh no, he wasn't gonna show any courtesy to someone that doesn't do the same for him.

He drags you behind him, taking singular big steps against your multiple small steps just so that he could have the small pleasure of having you stumble on the rough and uneven road that soon followed after the flowering place although it was now filled with soon-to-be rotting dead bodies.

The crunch of pebbles and dried leaves echoes in the dying light while you two continue to walk for what seemed to have been hours. Not a sound of complaint was heard or raised besides the soft huffing that escaped from your lips which in turn soured Sukuna's mood yet again. He had expected a question or maybe even a complaint, but all he did in the end was expect before finally reaching to a stop.

A town finally came to sight, your breathe heaving before your eyes falls upon the sprawling buildings and markets filled with people at every inch before resting on the large, looming building at the center of it all.

"Multiple vermins and tributes were sacrificed to me as an offering of peace by this town which was once a desolate village, our attendants were filled with them and I left them in your care since you seemed to like the people from there, but you have disgraced my kindness," Sukuna hisses in a low threatening voice, his hold tightening around your arms as he points at the town.

"My protection allowed them to flourish but since none of the vermins from there now attends to me, I no longer see any reason to grace my protection over them. You dared to show your smile to a mere maid and now her hometown will no longer be in existence and it's all your fault," He continues, turning to face you. All four eyes burning red with bloodlust- he had restrained himself from going on a massacre for a long time now, choosing to spend his time with you and amuse himself with your presence but the situation at hand, had his self control crumble to nothing.

One moment you were standing on the top of a hill looking at a sprawling city, illuminated with the setting sun and the next moment you find yourself standing in the city, illuminated with raging fires and screams that was seemingly coming from everywhere. A seemingly curious glint in your eyes as you walk in the market area that was once filled by people and still filled by them except now, their blood and body parts had made a path for you. A red carpet of sorts for your grand entrance that led to your maniacal, blood-thirsty husband-to-be.

Sukuna finally stops after making sure every house, every shop and every living thing had been torn apart. He turns around and sees the red carpet he laid down for you, proud of his accomplishments as he watches you turn the corner and walk up the stairs of the large building in the middle of the city, towards him. He may have had destroyed the city but he saved the best for the last, a grand finale where he makes you watch him fight against multiple sorcerers- he wanted you to watch him in awe and worship him as he worshipped you maybe then, you'd realize his strength and listen to his wishes as he did yours.

Yells emanates from the building as sorcerers begin their attacks upon him, cursed energy upon cursed energy aimed only at him but his eyes was on your climbing figure- your disinterested gaze steady as you walk up the bloody stairs towards him. Flicking away the attempts of attacks at him easily, he presses a kiss on your forehead with a grin on his face before rushing towards the top, ripping apart summons and summoners alike with bare force.

Sukuna was done before you arrived at the top, sitting on the benches that resided next to the entrance, waiting for your timely arrival before ripping apart a terrified sorcerer right in front of your eyes, grin reaching from ear to ear, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his deathly aura emanates the surrounding. He hopelessly wishes to see you falter, at least this once.

But your walk towards him never falters, your eyes on him never wavers and your body never halts, stopping only when you stand in front of him.

Your hand reaches up to his cheeks as he wonders curiously at your next move, only to flinch internally from surprise when your fabric comes into contact with his skin. Sukuna is further surprised when he realizes that you were wiping the blood on his face before he relaxes into your touch so naturally it felt like breathing, he looks up to you.

His breathe stops, his body turns rigid under your touch and he can't believe his eyes, all four eyes were left unblinking, frozen and on you.

Your lips were curved, not slightly curved like how it was before- barely noticeable unless paid close attention to. No, it was curved to the point that creases formed around the corner of your eye and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest is replaced by a blossoming and growing warmth. All thoughts and previous feelings of betrayal and rage was gone- all he could do and did was gaze in wonder at your smile, at the softened look in your eyes that no longer held any disinterest towards the world because all you saw was him.

All you saw was him- Sukuna Ryomen, The king of curses and your husband....-to-be.

The town releases a loud groan in the silence and the floor rumbles along with it, breaking the moment as you turn to look at the sea of flames surrounding the two of you but Sukuna is unwilling to break the moment so he places a hand atop of yours and you look at him with the same smile on your face.

His breathe hitches at the beauty of it- your blood stained kimono, your loose flowing hair, your soft figure and face illuminated by the fire, your even softer eyes that reflected him and the smile that rested on your lips, only for him. Sukuna burns every little detail into his memory and into his very essence, his soul.

"Shall we go home, Ryomen?," You say softly, your voice ringing in the silence and everything is perfect for Sukuna Ryomen.

He presses a kiss on your hand that held his cheek and stands, this time refusing to hold out his hand for a completely different reason. You had walked a long way because of petty anger and he sure as hell wasn't gonna repeat the same mistake again.

He slides an arm under your knees and supports your back with another before gently lifting you up, your hand sliding over his shoulder as if natural and he walks towards the burning city, towards the direction from where you came.

As the town crumbles and silence surrounds the chaos, only then did he crumble at your touch.

"Let's go home, my Love," he whispers and this time, he meant it.

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My imagination went on overdrive on this👹 didn't proofread so it might be kinda funky

I'd appreciate any sort of interactions with this post, also should I write the gojo fanfic I have in mind too??🤨Same title and alphabet, just different scenarios.

Masterlist

Tags ( due to request of pt.2 )

@badtrinia

@kariatenoh

#nuhuhwinniepooh #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna imagine #sukuna scenarios #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x y/n #ryomen x reader

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celebrityxcrushes · 1 year

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JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

Pairing: Lo’ak x (metkayina) f!reader

Request: hellooo!! hear me out! how about you're really interested in lo'ak and neteyam is like kind of a wingman to you, but lo'ak thinks you're super into his older brother and gets all jealous

Word count: 1408

Part 2

"Then you take this piece and twist it around the-"

Tsireya's explanation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of your laugh. From where he and Tsireya were sitting, Lo'ak had a clear view of you and his brother as you played in the water.

Whilst Tsireya had been tasked by your father to teach him how to weave straw baskets, you were supposed to help Neteyam improve his swimming. But clearly the two of you found it more important to splash each other with water like two children.

It bothered him that his brother acted so different around you. To his knowledge Neteyam never cared much for any of the girls back in their clan. Instead he would much rather prefer to spend his time training or being with his family. But ever since his family was granted uturu by your father, Lo'ak had to watch Neteyam spend almost all his spare time with you.

Noticing that his mind was elsewhere, Tsireya urged him to focus on the task in front of him, but his fingers refused to cooperate as a pit grew in his stomach.

It wasn't fair. For the entirety of his life, Lo'ak had been second to his brother on everything. Everyone would always fawn over his brother - and why wouldn't they? He was the future Olo'eyktan. Responsible. Strong. Meanwhile Lo'ak was nothing but a disappointment and a troublemaker. When even his own parents preferred his brother over him - why would you be any different?

As he kept picturing you with his brother, Lo'ak failed to notice how his fists clenched tightly around his basket.

The worst part of it all was that, for a moment, he actually thought you liked him the same way he liked you. When his family first joined your clan, the two of you immediately clicked and started spending a lot of time together. You were kind and patient as you helped him and his siblings adapt to your lifestyle. And most importantly, you seemed to enjoy spending time with him, until his brother just had to steal you away-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his half-finished basket giving into the pressure of his fists by breaking.

Seeing the shocked look on Tsireya's face, he muttered a small "Sorry" and dropped the pieces to the ground. As he once again heard your laugh, he decided that anywhere else in the village would be better to be than here, and so he stormed off - taking one last look at you as he left.

As if you could notice his intense stare, you turned your head upwards and locked eyes with him just as he stood up. You rarely saw Lo'ak without a smile or a small smirk, and so you were almost baffled to see him look almost angry as he watched you. Was he upset with you? Had something happened?

Ignoring the feeling that something was off, you lifted your arm and gave him a hesitant wave. However, disappointment filled your chest as he simply turned his back on you and walked off.

As he noticed that your attention had shifted, Neteyam followed your gaze that led him to where his little brother was walking. "Sooo," he dragged the word out teasingly, "when are you going to tell my skxawng brother that you like him?"

"What? I- I don't, I mean - How did you?"

Your first instinct was to try and deny his accusations, but the more rational part of you knew that your blushing face and stuttering voice allowed him to see right trough you.

With a short sigh in defeat, you jabbed your finger into his chest. "If you tell anyone about this, I will beat you up." As you sensed that he didn't seem to take you seriously, you continued. "I mean it, Neteyam, I will make you regret it. I swear this with our great mother as witness."

Neteyam remained completely unfazed by your threats, but allowed you a moment to rant before speaking again.

"I mean it, Y/N. You should tell him."

Seeing your hesitation made him grow slightly frustrated. He considered you his best friend and Lo'ak was his little brother. Nothing would make him happier than seeing the two of you happy, and he knew that you would make each other happy.

"He likes you too, you know?"

Although his words made your heartbeat speed up, you still weren't entirely convinced.

"How do you know? Has he said that?"

"Well," Neteyam lifted his arm and awkwardly scratched his own neck, "not exactly no, but I am his brother, I know him. He likes you, trust me."

To his defense, Lo'ak had never denied having feelings for you either. Neteyam found it kind of odd - he had tried to ask his brother about you several times, but it was as if Lo'ak refused to speak to him about you. Every time Neteyam brought you up, Lo'ak would huff or mutter something under his breath before walking away.

Before you could open your mouth to continue the conversation, you saw Tuk appear on the beach and heard her call out for her brother.

Neteyam lifted two fingers to give you a mock salute and gave you a pointed look - before leaving you alone to ponder on his words.

It took only a couple of hours from your talk with Neteyam until another of the Sully children decided to meddle in your love life.

You were sat cross-legged on the ground in the marui pod belonging to the Sully family. Kiri was standing behind you, her fingers making braids in your hair.

"Thanks for offering to do this, Kiri. You were right - this is nice".

On your way back from your swim lesson with Neteyam, you had ran into Kiri. She had then asked if you wanted her to braid your hair; claiming that she wanted to spend some time with you so that 'you could bond and get to know each other even better'. You had accepted, not knowing that what she really wanted - was to get you alone so that she could try and convince you to confess to Lo'ak.

"Oh, no worries! We have to make sure you look good for my brother, right?"

At that your eyes widened. You tried to turn your head to look at her, but her firm grip on your scalp made it difficult. While you felt the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment, Kiri continued working on the braids as if she hadn't said anything at all.

"He told you? Neteyam told you, didn't he?" You asked even though you knew the answer. "That little skxawng!"

Kiri ignored your little outburst, and asked again. "But it's true? You really like my brother?"

All you gave her was a defeated nod, but that settled it for her. She didn't need to talk to Lo'ak to know that he felt the same way - it was obvious. If you asked her, anyone with a pair of functioning eyes could tell that her brother was head over heels in love with you.

"Good," she eventually said and, despite not seeing her face, you could tell that she was smiling.

The two of you stayed silent for a few seconds after that as she finished the braid; humming a soft tune as she worked.

Just as you opened your mouth and got ready to swear her to secrecy, you were interrupted by the sound of her father's voice. It came from right outside the pod. And it was directed towards the worst person imaginable.

"Lo'ak, what are you doing standing around out here?"

No no no no. This could not be happening. Your eyes widened and your palms grew sweaty. You didn't know how long he had been standing outside the pod; but you could only pray to Eywa that he hadn't heard too much of your conversation.

Kiri's face was equally shocked, and it was obvious that she hadn't heard her brother either. She could tell that you were freaking out internally, and she felt sorry for you. Even though she, unlike you, was sure that the feelings were reciprocated - she understood that this was far from an ideal confession.

What neither of you knew however, was that Lo'ak completely misunderstood what he had just heard. In his ears you were confessing to having feelings for another. For his brother nonetheless.

And it broke him.

#lo’ak x reader #lo’ak fanfiction #lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #lo’ak imagines #lo’ak sully #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #atwow #atwow imagines #avatar imagines #lo’ak sully imagines #atwow x reader

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deathsbestgirl · 6 months

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okay here goes: never again & the cancer arc.

a little more in depth? than what i've already posted lol

never again opens with scully sitting in the basement office, contemplating where she fits, where she is in "their" office. she's holding mulder's nameplate and the first thing she says to him, after he ranted about having to take vacation, is "why don't i have a desk?"

he doesn't seem to understand why she's asking, where it's coming from and answers glibly, sarcastically. she's not happy with his answer. so she just...moves on, asking what he wants her to do while he's gone.

in the first scene, we saw scully not paying attention while their informant talked to mulder. she's looking at a memorial, the messages & gifts people left for a lost loved one. she takes a wilting flower petal.

season 4 has been tense. they've dealt with some twisted cases, she was held in contempt, she couldn't protect mulder or give him what he needed or stop him making a huge mistake in paper hearts. skinner was disappointed in her. they also had one of their most ridiculous cases in el mundo gira, an episode i know is commonly disliked. i don't necessarily enjoy it either but there are a few lines that really grabbed my attention.

it's about immigrants, who avoid the government at all costs in fear of deportation or jail (maybe worse). but they're mostly invisible. they're hired for cheap labor, but that's the most they're noticed for. their deaths & lives aren't a concern to this country.

scully is able to find the cause, but the two men infected & spreading the deadly fungus escape. they escape because they're "invisible"

scully wasn't there for mulder's conversation with lozano, but her statement at the end echos what lozano says in a way. when they first arrived, scully waved her badge around completely not understanding how she would be received in a migrant community as a federal agent. she made the same assumptions lozano did. but she follows mulder's lead, and the science, and the truth lands somewhere in the middle, and there isn't a satisfying conclusion to the case. yet again.

they rarely get all the answers. and even when they solve a murder, close a case — what's the cost?

i think scully sometimes feels invisible. her life is standing still. they're hidden away in the basement. she already had to fight for a place in male dominated fields. now she has to fight for the validity of the x files & mulder.

and maybe more than that, mulder doesn't always understand that scully wants to be on the x files, in the basement with him. she was assigned and he doesn't take her dedication & investment as seriously. not because he doesn't know the personal cost to her, or that she chose to stay, but because he has a hard time believing it, accepting it. he tells her several times there's life beyond the x files, to go be a doctor, she'll be head of the bureau. he never expected her to stay, to make it her life too. but she does. she chooses him & the x files over and over. and she wants him to understand, but i don't think she completely understands either.

i said once that it seemed to me scully truly realized how deep she was in with mulder in folie a deux. she was frustrated when mulder acts like he's the only one being "punished" being assigned to a case he thinks is a load of crap, but she was taking seriously. to her, it's always "we" and he acts like it's just him. he goes off without her, ends up needing her help & being right that it was a legitimate case & an x file! and in the end, she tells skinner as much as she can. she sees the zombie people. she sees the being in his room. a madness shared by two.

anyway. i think in never again she wasn't sure exactly what was bothering her, but she knew she was hitting that wall. and that's how she ended up with ed. talking about her patterns. mulder doesn't exactly fit the mold, but scully still wasn't getting what she wanted or needed. and she only calls ed for a date after mulder makes that comment.

mulder knew she would go, even though she refused in their office. he knew exactly where to find her. he was frustrated with her in the beginning, and then he's frustrated with her again for giving up the case when following pudovkin didn't lead to anything x files related, only russian mob. he wasn't trusting her, wasn't believing her.

the last time he asked her about a date was in the jersey devil. which he interrupted and she was happy for it. she didn't take the second date. this time when he asks, she decides to go on a date. exercise some autonomy instead of doing "as told, as always"

scully wants to work on the x files with mulder and have a life. when given the choice, whenever options are presented to her, she chooses mulder every time. but she wants to feel the same in return, especially after she feels like she's failed (him).

at ed's apartment, she doesn't want to go to the nice restaurant he got a reservation for. she wants to go the bar that's a great place to go when you're feeling crappy. because she's so obviously feeling crappy. when have we seen her seek out a date? or any other male attention? (seriously anyway, or without going back to mulder)

even though mulder isn't the typical controlling figure in her life, though he has his moments, like what's happening here...what she says about her father is true of mulder too.

she's hitting that wall, she needs to rebel. but how can she "rebel" against mulder & their work, on a illegitimate x file (lol). she rightfully hands off the case, then goes on a date, gets a tattoo and sleeps with a man who ends up trying to kill her (arguably stumbling into a real x file)

i think scully figured out what she needed to. she doesn't seem affected by this instance of violence like she was by duane barry, her abduction or donnie pfaster. (ed had just tried to kill her and she still tries to stop him sticking his arm in the furnace. she kept appealing to him.)

she knows what she wants at the end. but mulder won't say it, and neither will she. they both know but if they can't say it, they can't be on the same page and they can't really move forward. they stay in the ouroboros, in the endless line. somehow different yet exactly the same.

mulder not finishing his sentence, refusing to repeat her words back to her, was like a nail in the coffin. they know. it is their life. their lives have become (almost) completely intertwined, they made it this way. they are each other's person, they have the same path because of the choices they make over & over.

and then: mulder starts to do something different in leonard betts.

scully has always been there when he needs her, for the work, for samantha, for his mom. mulder is always there when she's emotionally vulnerable (as far as she lets him). she says she's fine over & over, she tells him she's back & she's not going anywhere. and when it comes crashing down around her, when she can't hold the facade & he's there & steady for her, she falls apart in the safety of his arms.

[side note: it's so funny to me how scully still never has any idea what she's walking into. if we don't see a slideshow, she's going in completely blind. he always gives the case to her piece by piece.]

this scene is just. my favorite. mulder can look at horribly disfigured bodies, he'll touch & taste anything at a crime scene. but he's disgusted when he realizes he's touching bile. he can hold it together at dismembered bodies, but would love to draw the line at touching them.

but scully asked for his help, and how often has she done that in regards to her domain on cases? i'm sure there had to be some, but i can only remember her asking mulder to smell a body in revelations.

anyway. this man is genuinely horrified at the idea of digging through a dumpster of left over body parts.

there's nothing he wants to do less, but he does it. because she asks him to. (and it should lead them to some answers.)

later, leonard betts goes after scully. tells her "i'm sorry, but you've got something i need" after they've ascertained is brain was "riddled" with cancer, and he feeds on it, could identify it in anyone, he spent a lot of time in cancer wards, likely scavenging when he could.

scully is shaken after.

and here, mulder doesn't understand what's bothering scully, and he does something we don't seem him do very often, if ever this outright? he explicitly tells her she did a good job, she should be proud.

i think i've said before i don't think scully lets herself feel proud very often. she craves validation, always tries to do the most, is always excited to tell mulder when she has something. here he's giving her something she should love, and she can't appreciate it because she needs to get out of there. she's terrified. another case solved, ending in death. she saved herself again. but now...she's facing the possibility of cancer. and despite being a skeptic, she believes leonard betts.

which!! we saw earlier in the episode too. when she's about to examine leonard betts' decapitated head and his eyes open & his mouth moves, almost as if whispering to her (genuinely reminds me of when she sees her father in beyond the sea) — she can't continue the autopsy. she calls mulder and he picks up on it immediately. and in this moment, she isn't particularly vulnerable. and more typically, that's when we see her believe most, when her defenses are weakened and she needs something to hold onto, or she can't bring herself to use her defenses.

"blinked or winked?" his jokes this episode are so important to me. because never again was so tense, so leonard betts taking place after never again and before memento mori is a good cushion. he's responding to what he understood about scully after never again, and trying to bring back their usual banter. scully is still pretty annoyed with him but they're still together on this case. they disagree, scully playing skeptic as mulder throws his crazy theories at her.

and scully's expressions whenever they're on the phone are so much more expressive. it's special. she lets go of her professionalism and just reacts, and mulder is having a great time. he thinks they're getting back to a better place, and they are, but everything still remains in the silence.

mulder is still making jokes and scully pretends to be unamused (she is hopeless in the best way). and because i love when scully says riddled:

so truly, leonard betts is a connecting episode. there are a few lighthearted moments after the intensity of never again, an episode that was about mulder not understanding where scully was coming from, and leonard betts is about what he was able to understand. giving her validation. it's also makes more sense that he doesn't try to give her any physical comfort after, to me, if leonard betts happens after never again. paper hearts happened not that long ago, and scully was fierce in that episode and physically affectionate with him.

mulder and scully both knew at the end of never again what's between them. mulder leaves "but it's become mine" unsaid, he cuts himself off. scully was frustrated with not truly knowing her place with mulder, on the x files, in their office. his unfinished sentence and the following silence said it all. if it was ever going to happen, it would have been right then. and it doesn't.

leonard betts is a little cushion between two intense episodes. the awareness of their feelings in never again, trying to find their rhythm again in leonard betts & scully's revelation at the end. they lead to the emotional & physical vulnerability in memento mori and through the cancer arc. the feeling of what they're losing before it even started.

#never again #leonard betts #memento mori #cancer arc #dana scully #fox mulder #mulder and scully #the x files

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treason-and-plot · 2 years

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FAVOURITE FILMS

I was tagged by @dynastiasims, thank you very much! I was going to choose my top ten but choosing six took me nearly two days so six is all you’re going to get, lol!

1) Little Fish

This movie is always first whenever I make lists of my favourite movies! Cate Blanchett plays an ex-junkie and as usual is absolutely superb. Hugo Weaving and Sam Neill also star. The movie is set in Sydney in Cabramatta, which is the heart of the Vietnamese community.One of the reasons this movie is so amazing to me is because of its authenticity. The camera work is fantastic, making this a film that is beautiful to look at and also placing you right in the middle of all the drama and almost making you forget you're watching a movie. Heartwrenching, haunting and real.

2) Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

This movie just never fails to lift my spirits and make me feel happy. It’s escapism in its purest form. I've probably seen it close to 100 times. The dialogue (as in most John Hughes movies) is natural, fast-paced and in turns poignant and hilarious. The plot structure and performances are impeccable. This movie was way ahead of its time in its treatment of teenagers and deserves its status as a classic.

3) Fargo

I had to put a Coen brothers film on my list and I chose this one because of the stunning cinematography (who could forget the snowy landscape splashed with blood from the wood chipper!) great performances, the wonderful writing, plot twists and turns, and the fact it’s equally a satire, a comedy and a thriller.

4) Muriel's Wedding

Muriel’s Wedding is one of the most beloved Australian films of all time. Released in 1994, it launched the career of then-unknown, Toni Collette, and introduced a whole new generation to the music of ABBA. If you have ever seen this movie and don't totally love it, then I'm sorry, I will have to seriously rethink our friendship!

5) Portrait of a Lady on Fire

This movie is a lesbian love story, set on a remote shore in Brittany, France, in the eighteenth century, and when I saw the previews I could not WAIT to see it. It didn’t disappoint. The New Yorker said “The film is about the erotic, electric connection between women when they find their desire for creative experience fulfilled in each other, but it is equally about the powers of art to validate, preserve, and console after a romance is over.”

6) A Streetcar Named Desire

In which 'disturbed Blanche DuBois moves in with her sister Stella in New Orleans, and is tormented by her brutish brother-in-law while her reality crumbles around her.' Marlon Brando is of course her brother-in-law Stanley Kowalski, and the scene where he roars her name is one of the most powerful and iconic ever. Simply put, this movie is everything. (Fun fact: Director Elia Kazan played up the claustrophobia of Stanley and Stella's apartment by literally having the walls close in on the characters; that is, he moved the walls closer to each other from one scene to the next.)

I would like to tag @echoweaver, @eternal-infamy, @declaration-of-dramas, @windermeresimblr @rachel-homeanddesign-sims and @kscriba. Cheers, dears!

#non-sims #saviorhide #movies meme

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videcoeur · 3 months

Note

sir crocodile,

i cannot believe you were a no-show to the most recent warlord meeting because you missed perhaps the funniest thing i have ever seen. there were pyrotechnics. glitter. boa’s heel got caught in the ceiling several people died. seriously, i’m still laughing. it was so funny i can’t even put what i saw into writing—so i guess if you want to know, you’ll have to come visit me in person.

sorry, that was a lie. it was as boring as always; sengoku and tsuru glared at me from the head of the table, as usual the only two warlords who showed up are the boring ones who don’t talk—you know, same old same old. nothing to report, really. though, i did get disappointed when i didn’t see you. are you hiding from me? every time i arrive unannounced to alabasta, i can never seem to track you down. but, that can’t be right, can it? you, avoiding me? unheard of.

as it happens, i’ll be in the country around valentine’s day to discuss some things with king nefertari. at the latest reverie, we got into a bit of a heated debate over this-and-that and he offered to host me at his palace to, y’know, build foreign relations and all that. i may have oversold my investment in actually speaking with him (he’s just so boring—but not a fun boring, like you where you at least occasionally threaten to murder me) so i’m desperately looking for other ways to distract myself while there. you’ll help me, won’t you? you are the hero of alabasta, after all, isn’t it your job to come to the aid of the little people?

or at least come to the meeting with me. please, gods, come to the meeting with me.

　　　　　　　　　　okay, perfect. it’s a date <3 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 - d. d. f.

The pink envelope with the flamingo stamp leaves little to the imagination as to who this letter is from. Crocodile's first reflex is to crumple and trash it; he's not even interested in the letter's content. Unfortunately, his multi-armed assistant seems to think this is a bad idea, so she fetches it right as he scores a perfect 3-pointer in his trash with it.

Needless to say, his age starts to show as the creases in his forehead deepen and his gaze sombers.

"Nico Robin, do you think that's wise? I've already thrown that." Her dainty fingers start to unscramble that abhorrent piece of perfumed pink paper before she delicately deposits it on his desk.

"Of course you did. But if, by some unfortunate twist of fate, my boss were to miss an opportunity to prevent a one-on-one with his most hated, I would be a terrible assistant, don't you think?"

How he hates how right she is. This letter was probably nonsense. In fact, most of it was probably nonsense. But on the off chance Doflamingo warns him about his sudden arrival, Crocodile should not waste this opportunity. It could give him juuuuuust enough time to not avoid the man but also not see him, you feel?

Disdain twists his sharp traits, making him uglier than he needs to be. Crocodile acts like the simple act of touching that paper is repulsive. It is not, but he wants to ensure everybody understands his stance on Doflamingo. Despite how much he's told the man how little he wants to do with him, it never seems enough to keep him at bay. He's nothing short of a pest, and Crocodile hasn't yet found the right poison to get rid of it.

Crocodile tears the envelope with the sharp point of his hook, eyes locking on the first sentence for a moment.

NONSENSE. Of course, it was.

The sandman glances back up at Robin and dismisses her. He doesn't need her here as he reads that letter. He does not TRUST that woman not to plot something, anything, to put Doflamingo in his way.

Each word just further incenses him. It's the casualty of it all. Acting like they're friends, almost. Good job, Doffy. He does not even need to be in Crocodile's vicinity to ruin his day.

But it's the ending that sends him into a flying rage. A date? He couldn't be serious. And yet, Crocodile knows that he is and that Doflamingo will make true to his words. Valentine's Day, huh?

For reasons Crocodile does not care to explain, he'll be swamped at the casino that night. Perhaps he'll be entertaining some business partners, interviewing new singers, or whatever, really. As long as he does not have time for Doflamingo and stays out of his way...

Crocodile crumples the letter again and throws it in the trash, where it belongs. Then, he reaches for the hidden den den mushi in his desk drawer.

"Miss AllSunday," Robin replies with a quick yes before Crocodile interrupts again. "On the 14th, I take no visitors. No exception."

#LORD HELP ME IM DCRYING OVER THIS #DOFFY PLS #( t; crocodile. )#( oprp. )#THATS A DATE #Crocodile: nani the fuck

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kennedyxneills · 1 year

Photo

tw: death mention, death, stabbing, knife, drowning, murder

Dear Dad,

I thought today was going to be so difficult. I mean it was— every time I looked through that lens, and I saw the two of them, I couldn’t help but think of us. And then I had to remember and lose you all over again. It hurt. So bad.

But then I met someone.

And they understood what it meant, even though I’m sure I was slurring, when I admitted that I just wished people knew what it felt like to have the person they loved get ripped from them. And that I’m not crazy. That I’m valid for hurting. Especially when I know to my core even still that what happened wasn’t out of thin air or accidental or whatever everyone always always wants to spew.

They understood that you were taken from me.

And I know I can’t have you back but… but they think I can help make it right.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen but, Dad, I’m excited. I feel like I finally get to return the favor for everything you did for me when you were still here. I’ve got a lot to think about. And I’m nervous but I can’t stop smiling despite it all.

It’s going to be good.

“I know what we talked about. I know that I promised, it’s just… it’s just that it’s real now!” Kennedy’s voice shook as she spoke. Her fingers grasped at the ring on her finger, twisting and turning it around her knuckle. She hated the way that her lower lip was quivering. She hated the look in the eyes staring back at her, the disappointment and frustration they held. Most of all she hated the fear that had been coursing through her ever since that news report popped up on her television screen.

There was no going back now.

Faking enough courage, Kennedy stepped forward, nodding her head as she listened to them hiss. Weak. Clearly you’re not cut out for this. I should have never taken the risk on you. Her sandy blonde hair shook wildly. “Please,” she begged, gritting her teeth to fight the tears coming through. “I just need more time. I promise! I want to try, I want this, I… I’m new to this, okay? I’ve never killed anyone before!”

An honest statement punctuated by the squeak of a door’s hinges.

Kennedy stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. The breath was suddenly stripped from her lungs. And as her blue eyes looked from their corners, the troubled heart in her chest beat loud, thrashing against her ribcage at the sight of Louis’s ginger hair.

Where she stood anchored, the other one in the room had no hesitations.

Let me show you how it’s done.

From the moment she’d tucked herself behind the driver’s seat to now, standing at the edge of town, at the edge of an embankment with tire tracks beside her, Kennedy felt as if she was underwater. Adrenaline coursed through her, leaving the words and the thoughts in her head to become muffled, too caught up in their own riptide. You’re doing this. You can do this. I can’t believe you’re doing this. Oh my god, we’re doing it.

It was only as she followed the tire tracks down, catching sight of the white Mercedes, that the pulsing of her thoughts had become more singular: did you do it? When she had visualized this moment in her head, the car had been meant to take the plunge into the icy water. It was supposed to sink down, taking Jake with it, doing the worst of the job for her. Only… it wasn’t in the water. It hadn’t even made it all the way down the embankment, getting itself tangled in the brush, the snow, finding the trees with a crash.

“Oh no,” Kennedy whispered, straining through the grit of her teeth, her worry apparent in the way she bounced, jittering in place. Her inexperience had her torn: did she go and check or did she leave and risk having to face her failure? And what was she supposed to say? This was supposed to be how she proved herself. How were they going to take her seriously now? How were they going to trust her? She needed this.

It was as she’d tested lifting her foot, that a twig snapped in the distance. Her head whipped to the side, eyes darting along the tree line in panic. There, amongst the pines, a figure stood, watching.

I did it, Dad.

You know the real crazy part? It was Vivi’s face when I did it. She was so surprised. You’d think after nine years that she might’ve finally got it but no, that’s asking too much. I know I played nice, played best friends, but the fact that she never knew how much her family hurt me?? I bet her dad’s playing victim now too. Too focused on himself that he can’t pause for a second and think about what he did to you. Well now he did it to himself.

Just like I have this room, your room, he’s got hers now. They might not understand but they’re going to learn, Dad. They’ll have their own nine, ten, plus years to visit that room and her grave and the headlines that’ll come out and it’ll be their turn to feel this pain.

I’m not alone in it anymore.

And you know, the best part is that I’m not even done. This feeling? It’s only going to grow. I blamed him the most because he was your boss, it was his boat, but he wasn’t on it. And all those people that wouldn’t listen… they’re forced to now.

I’ve been waiting so long to scream.

Despite having lived just a block or so away from the bed and breakfast, Kennedy could not remember the last time she’d come that way, almost always following the same route in and out of Ashmore. The memory coming to her mind then was a sunny summer day, the glittery tassels of her Barbie bicycle tickling her freckled skin as she rolled down the sidewalk. What was then bright and warm, stained with faded chalk scribbles, was now dark as the night around her.

It was only just half-past eight and yet the streets were dark. The neighborhood had taken on an eerie quality with the only light coming from the faint glow of light hidden behind shut curtains. The happenings around Nightrest had caused many to shelter in place, seeking the safety of their homes, treating drawn pieces of fabric like they were metal guards. Or bulletproof glass.

Kennedy crept along the side of the homes, clad in black; the brightest thing about her was the item she held in her hand, though— like everything in this town— it was old and worn by the years, its shade of red cut down to nearly a pink. Still, given her history, Kennedy was careful to shield its color, holding the gas canister to her chest. She could feel the contents slash against the side with each of her steps.

Kennedy stood amongst the crowd at Rhee’s, though stood would have been a poor choice of word given how she hung on Malachi’s shoulder. Her head hung back as she peered up at the television screen, pouting as her eyes, lids heavy, slowly traced the court. When a whistle blew and everyone around them jeered, she allowed jumbled words to fall off her tongue. “Was that good? Wait, why does Gorgonzola get to…”

She squinted harder then, paying no attention to the explanation aimed in her direction. Instead, her focus moved from the arch of the basketball, down towards the shelves of liquor, then onto the bar. An empty glass sat on the counter, sat in a ring of liquid. Kennedy’s knee suddenly went weak, her weight on him increasing for a second before she wobbled up taller, “Sorry, sorry,” she slurred, patting his shoulder before stepping back, “I’m good.” Manicured fingers brushed loose bits of hair back behind her head, the very same head that bobbed up and down in a nod, like that single action could convince them both that she was, in fact, ‘good.’ The same bobbing continued as she hiked the strap of her purse higher up her shoulder. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Be… right back.”

Her hand fluttered, trailing behind her as her feet carried her through the crowd, occasionally stumbling, bumping into shoulders and chairs before finally finding the line. Just one person stood in front of her, waiting for that private girls’ room. Kennedy killed the time complimenting her jacket. As the other, and the jacket, retreated, she wracked her brain to think if it had ever been in the Trove’s inventory, an item passed perhaps between her or Vivi’s hands. Kennedy giggled then, allowing her lips to press wide, her eyes to squint, all her actions that little bit extra.

It wasn’t until it was her turn. It wasn’t until the door closed behind her, the lock turned. It wasn’t until she gripped the edge of the sink and looked up into the mirror, that Kennedy allowed the façade to fade away. In seconds, she transformed, standing tall, evaluating herself in the mirror. Should she smudge her lipstick more? Is her hair too neat?

Looking into that mirror, Kennedy stared herself down. Tonight was important. She had to get this right. They all needed to believe her.

Kennedy O’Neill, too drunk, too sloppy, too hung up and heart-eyed to be capable of anything like tonight. Just a dumb blonde little girl who tossed back too many.

A problem hidden in plain sight.

The last few months had lent her more knowledge about the yacht club. Despite living here her whole life, her access had been mostly restricted to the dock and to the lobby and to the balcony that overlooked the ocean. Tonight, she had wandered deeper, to the parts where the music could hardly reach. The distant chatter and chuckles of the crowd twirling in their overpriced gowns played in the background as her fingers tightened around the knife in her hand. In the tiny coat room, the soundtrack that played was the gasp of air Kage struggled to find as the blade pushed further into his gut.

Rising onto her tiptoes, even in her high heels, Kennedy placed her face in front of his. “Your father didn’t do anything,” she snarled, jutting her chin as the anger fueled her. “He let him die.” That last word she punctuated with a further push of her knife. The corners of her lips curved as she watched Kage’s features twist with agony. It was evidence to her that what she was doing was working.

This was always about her father.

She had thought of him when she’d plunged that knife into Vivi. She had thought of him when she shoved that tongue down Kerryn’s mouth: he should have said more. She had thought of him from the moment she followed Kage down the hall.

Thinking of him, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “He let my father die. He didn’t say anything. He just got to keep living.” God, how badly she wanted to scream. The whole town deserved to hear it. They were all compliant now. All of them just sat around like it didn’t matter. Like Kennedy’s world hadn’t completely shattered. “He’s going to know what it feels like,” she promised, those blue eyes glossy and maddened, wide and wild.

The pretty blonde girl that everyone knew had fully transformed inside those four walls.

With a vicious tug, Kennedy yanked the knife from his flesh and took a long stride back. She admired the red that stained his white shirt and the thud of his knees hitting the floor. There was so much life already drained from him. “But see,” Kennedy started, tiptoeing a bit closer again, the bloody knife raised, pointed towards his dark and weary face, “I’m nice. He at least gets a body to go visit.”

And with that, she slashed her knife across his features, carving what might’ve looked like a smile.

I’d forgotten how cool the water could feel against my skin.

I haven’t gone into the sea ever since I lost you. It never felt right. Or maybe I was scared that if I did that then I could somehow feel you, feel the way you must’ve felt sinking below the waves. How much you must have kicked. How tight your lungs had to have been. How wretched that boat must have looked above, how traitorous.

It’s funny because I think I knew that feeling on land.

Now, I feel like I’m just floating. I feel light.

I can’t wait to see you.

I think Peter’s going to be right; I think you’re going to be so proud of me.

Remember when you used to call me your little warrior? Remember how you used to tell me to ‘show me that face’ and how I’d scrunch up my face and clench my fists? Remember how you’d pat my head, grin, and say ‘there’s my girl’?

I’m right here, Dad.

I’m finally home.

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adamwatchesmovies · 9 months

Text

Alex Rider: Operation Stormbreaker (2006)

Most movies are obviously good or bad. Alex Rider: Operation Stormbreaker (or simply Stormbreaker in certain regions) has what it takes to entertain young teens but its low points are subterranean. I hesitated to call it a miss until I saw the villains. This adaptation of the book by Anthony Horowitz is derivative of every spy movie you've ever seen. Even if you can forgive that, there’s no way you can take the bad guys seriously.

Orphaned at a young age, Alex Rider (Alex Pettyfer in yet another bad YA Novel adaptation) is recruited by MI-6 when his uncle (Ewan McGregor) is killed in action. His mission? Pose as a contest winner and get close to billionaire Darrius Sayle (Mickey Rourke) to find out the real reason he created “Stormbreaker”, a computer system he claims will change the world.

It’s ridiculous to believe a 14-year-old would be recruited by a government agency but that’s part of the fantasy. Turns out Alex has been subconsciously trained by his uncle for years. He can stand toe-to-toe with ruthless thugs (in cleverly conceived action scenes by John Woo that are unfortunately not convincingly shot). He just needs the chance to prove himself. Then he’ll have the opportunity to get his revenge… and save the world too. In Bond-like fashion, Alex is given a variety of amusing gadgets disguised as everyday “kid” objects. A yoyo, a pen and a Nintendo DS (available in stores now!). Those are pretty cool.

Whenever Stormbreaker starts winning you over with its teenage charms, a disappointment is unfortunately right around the corner. When they introduce Mickey Rourke’s Darrius Sayle, you’ll be flabbergasted. With pimp-like clothes, a cane, a ponytail and blue eyeliner, he looks like a caricature. You think that’s as bad as it’s going to get but then Missi Pyle as Nadia Vole opens her mouth. Her accent is so bad and cartoonish it’s like she’s in a comedy sketch.

And then, there are the contrivances and coincidences, not to mention the poor planning. Sayle has a personal vendetta against the Prime Minister (Robbie Coltrane) so he’s filled the Stormbreaker computers with a deadly virus. Not a computer virus; a green liquid that will kill millions of children when his old enemy presses a big red button as part of the launching ceremony. Said big red button is encoded to launch the virus only if the Prime Minister presses it. This means Sayle couldn’t release the virus (the literal virus. I can’t get over it) even if he wanted to!

This sort of logical head-scratcher isn’t alone. It’s accompanied by a double-whammy of bumping into the right person, at the right time. To prevent the big button from being pressed, Alex desperately needs help. Who happens to be at the ceremony providing security? None other than the soldiers he was training with a week ago. The authorities must’ve had a great deal of confidence in them considering their first mission is this high-profile. Alex uses one of their weapons and destroys the button. His evil scheme down the toilet, Style runs away. Alex goes to pursue him but oh no! Traffic! How could he possibly catch up? Well by asking his school crush, Sabina (Sarah Bolger) for a ride! She just happens to be riding a horse right outside the building! Sure, why not?

Alex Rider: Operation Stormbreaker is not a Harry Potter ripoff in the same way as the Billy Owens or Percy Jackson franchises but it’s pretty clear it wanted to cash in on the craze. An orphaned boy who discovered he belongs to a secret organization, access to special powers/resources, a film series whose leading man is destined to grow into a hunk for the girls, action scenes to appeal to the boys, a twist on an old formula to make it fresh (in this case, James Bond). Yeah, it fits. Unfortunately, this first chapter has none of the metaphorical magic needed to have lasting power. Plus, it’s just not a good movie. Alex Rider: Operation Stormbreaker is yet another mid-2000s flick that ends on a note promising a sequel that never happened. (July 31, 2020)

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cyberp-1-nk · 1 year

Note

OKAY OKAY ANOTHER IDEA THAT CRACKS ME UP! Now this will also be up to you for the most part! But Raven and Nightmare fighting...

Just Vesper and Anni standing there, just annoyed and Fang not knowing what to do with herself, especially when Raven flirts with her. BUt ohhhh imagine Toby being there, Vesper and Anni would have to break up a fight between those three? But yeah...the main themes are chaos, fighting, and exasperation from Vesper and Anni.

Add anything you'd like, change anything you'd like. I just know this is gonna be funny though, so tysm!

[ confusion. || simp party.]

Warnings; Raven being a pervert..

Tags; @insane-horror-movie-addict

A/N; Heh...it got a lil flirty at the end.

Word count; 1,245

Fang had absolutely no idea how to deal with this situation.

She wasn't used to this unnecessary amount of attention she was gaining— in fact, she was so used to being constantly ignored by everyone. Right now, she'd wish to go back to being completely ignored, for she didn't want to be involved with this strange situation.

“For the hundredth time, Raven, I said no!”

Sighing in exasperation, Fang tried to walk away from the persistent man in hope she could get some work done. Being suddenly noticed by everyone wasn’t easy, but she liked observing and ensuring that everything that happened with everyone went smoothly.

And to her advantage, she got to spend a lot of time with people, and actually have them tolerate her. However, to be blunt, some people, like Raven, were just a pain in the ass at times, especially when he wanted to know a specific something. His stubbornness made her rethink as to why she had continued to talk to him in the first place.

So, here she was. A relentless Raven wanted to know something, and as far as she knew he wouldn’t stop until he got the piece of information he’d set his mind on. Seriously, this guy needed to grow up.

“Fang, stop being such a stubborn girl and just tell me the color of your panties already! As your boyfriend, I’m allowed to know this kind of stuff.”

A bright red blush crept onto her cheeks and she fought back the urge to snap at him. However, being the strong hearted and proud girl she was, she tried to compose herself, for he wasn’t worth a penny to let herself lose it. “Let me tell you something, Raven, so you’d better use your damn jelly head you call a brain for once.”

Fang saw his eyebrows twitch in annoyance, his nose wrinkling, and mouth twisting into a grimace. His expression was priceless, and she tried to suppress the giggle threatening to emerge from her throat. That didn’t stop her from grinning internally, for she finally had the upper hand in this conversation. Being sassy was just her territory, she couldn’t help herself.

‘Good job me!’

“1. First of all, you are not my boyfriend and even if you were, the color of my panties is none of your business. 2. This is a very personal subject I’d rather not talk about, so just shut up. And 3. You’re being a pervert right now, you know that?”

He looked at Fang with such a blank look she felt the necessity to leave this weird situation.

Snapping out of his momentary trance, his signature Cheshire cat grin carved its way onto his face, signaling this meant trouble. That was her cue for leaving. Without saying anything else to him, Fang turned on her heel, ready to escape the rather awkward situation. However, she didn’t get the chance to even make one step, and she abruptly stopped dead in her tracks, for she felt her skirt being pulled up, flashing her panties to him.

“What the—“

Before Fang could do anything, she heard Raven click his tongue in disapproval as he eyed her cotton panties with disappointment, his irritating smirk ever so slightly widening as he had noticed her bright-red face.

“Tch, Fang, those are definitely not sexy enough. But I do say, it matches your incredibly cute personality.” Fang pulled her skirt down, so her panties were invisible to the world again. His grin widening as he tried to keep his voice steady, her bright red face made him chuckle slightly before pulling her into a tight embrace, ruffling her hair in the process. As he pushed her against his body, her face pressed against his muscular chest— damn, he was ripped. His demon tail curled around her waist and wrapped around her— as if to declare to the world that Fang was his.

An eccentric snap of envy became apparent in Toby's eyes, his eyes narrowed as he settled his gloved hand onto the handle of his hatchet, he was about to gut this son of a bitch. But before he had a chance to take a shot at beating Raven to an absolute pulp— Nightmare had beat him to it.

“RAVEN! YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” Nightmare proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs, not even caring about the odd looks people were giving her. Anni desperately tried to keep up with the woman, but it was too late. She tackled Raven with little to no remorse—- and once again, they began to fight while Fang was left a flustered mess.

"Should we…stop them?" Anni asked with the shake of her head and Vesper stared over her. Anni crossed her arms, and took a sharp exasperated breath. The two of them have been at this same routine for weeks— every time the twins saw each other, it would immediately end up in a rather hilarious yet unnecessary fight.

"Oh please, they've been at this since they were children. Best thing I've learned is to just let them fight it out." Vesper stated with an annoyed eye roll, leaning his body against a tree as his two siblings were tearing each other apart.

Anni's amused eyes trailed over to Vesper, a glint of excitement igniting her eyes as she smiled, "Is that a new tattoo?"

"Oh— this?" He pulled his shirt up slightly so it would reveal a small portion of his tattoo, showcasing a sneak peak of his incredibly toned body, "Oh— heh, i-it's nothing." He quickly pulled his shirt back down so she couldn't see the full thing.

She smirked, "Just show me! It can't be that lame." A little hue of blush grew onto his cheeks as she looked up at him teasingly.

"Well, it is that lame, trust me." Vesper said, though his brow was furrowed together just the slightest bit. His lips tugged at an amused grin at her curiosity— her stubbornness was an endearing aspect of her personality— alongside how occasionally playful she could be.

"Oh c'mon," Anni stepped forward, cornering him against the tree. Vesper had to draw his eyes away as the blush on his face worsened, taking a deep breath to calm his boiling mind. His control wasn't that good, because his eyes couldn't help but steal another look as he locked eyes with her again, "I'm not playing any games with you. Am I?" Anni questioned teasingly,

"N—not any that I know of," His back bumped against the tree as the shorter woman cornered him. Anni's hand hesitated to move, but it finally managed to cough out its courage and slid up against Vesper's face. Her thumb trailed over the scruff on his jawline and she heard him let out a deep breath at her touch, smiling softly at the sound of how nervous he became.

"You seem so nervous," His body heated up at her teasing intensity and he absolutely didn't know what to do with himself but just rolled along with her. He felt like a puppet under her control and the more she teased him the more he boiled in the pit of his stomach. "What's the matter?" She questioned with a smirk. Vesper's eyes opened again and he stared down at her, he could feel his heart thumping soundlessly against his sternum.

Anni was a little glad that Nightmare and Raven started fighting again..

#simp party #simp party my beloved #anni and vesper hours #raven the ass #this was kinda bad lol

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pesterloglog · 4 months

Text

John Egbert, Dave Strider, Karkat Vantas, Vriska Serket

Act 6, page 7487-7492

JOHN: so tell me about your ridiculous meteor journey!

DAVE: um

JOHN: the dave from the bad time line told me some funny stories when we got together on the grassy hill planet

JOHN: but we weren't actually hanging out for that long, so i didn't hear much.

JOHN: also, i'm MOSTLY sure vriska wasn't alive during their trip.

DAVE: oh well let me tell you

DAVE: vriska was most certainly alive during this one

DAVE: like almost

DAVE: extra-alive, if thats possible

JOHN: haha.

JOHN: i think i know what you mean.

JOHN: i spent some time with her when she was a ghost, and uh...

JOHN: let's just say whatever her mortality status is, she makes her presence hard to ignore.

KARKAT: YES. YES!

KARKAT: I LOVE THIS.

KARKAT: CAN WE SPEND OUR WHOLE REMINISCENCE JUST DESTROYING VRISKA, SLIGHTLY ABOVE AUDIBLE LEVEL?

VRISKA: Slightly?

VRISKA: Karkat, you only have one volume setting.

KARKAT: WOW, FUCK YOU?!

DAVE: ok dude maybe lets not spend our paltime trash talking serket if only cus theres no way youre not getting repeatedly trounced exactly just like that

KARKAT: FFFFFFFFFFFFFYEAH.

KARKAT: YEAH, YOU'RE RIGHT.

KARKAT: OK, I'LL CHILL OUT. YOU'RE RIGHT DAVE, AS USUAL.

JOHN: wow.

JOHN: karkat, for a funny shouty guy, you backed down on that really fast.

JOHN: i'm almost... a bit disappointed?

JOHN: i was looking forward to more of your patented ravings!

KARKAT: HEY, JOHN FUCKBERT, I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I'M A LITTLE MORE MATURE AND REASONABLE THAN THE LAST TIME YOU SAW ME.

KARKAT: I'M A LOT MORE THAN MR. HOLLERSPONGE ONE-NOTE, AND ANYONE WHO DISPUTES THIS CAN CORDIALLY INVITE ME TO PLAY THEIR DIRTY SEED FLAP LIKE A DISCOUNT HARMONICA.

JOHN: oh. well, i'm sold.

KARKAT: SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IT'S PRETTY COOL TO FINALLY MEET YOU. I MEAN, UNDER MORE CIVIL, RATIONAL CIRCUMSTANCES.

KARKAT: UNLIKE WHATEVER THE *FUCK* THAT BRIEF ENCOUNTER WAS THREE YEARS AGO WHERE YOU KO'D VRISKA AND THEN POOFED YOUR FLIMSY ASS INTO THE FUCKALL CONTINUUM.

KARKAT: I KNOW I SEEMED REALLY MAD ABOUT THAT AT THE TIME, FOR WHATEVER REASON.

KARKAT: BUT REALLY, I'VE HAD SOOOOO MANY BORING HOURS ON THAT METEOR TO SPEND BARELY REFLECTING ON THE ROUGHLY TEN THOUSAND WAYS I DON'T GIVE THE SLIGHTEST FUCK ABOUT WHATEVER IDIOTIC TWIST OF FATE TRANSPIRED BACK THERE.

JOHN: heheh. ok?

KARKAT: I'M COMPLETELY OVER IT.

KARKAT: I'M OVER A LOT OF THINGS ACTUALLY.

JOHN: ... you are?

KARKAT: YEAH.

KARKAT: LIKE, REMEMBER BACK WHEN I WAS YELLING AT YOU ALL THE TIME FROM MY COMPUTER.

KARKAT: BACK THEN I PROBABLY WOULD HAVE FELT NERVOUS OR AWKWARD ABOUT THIS ENCOUNTER.

KARKAT: BECAUSE OF... WELL, YOU KNOW.

JOHN: no?

KARKAT: I WAS HITTING ON YOU BRIEFLY, AND IN A VERY CONFUSING NON-CHRONOLOGICAL WAY, WITHOUT EVEN QUITE REALIZING HOW BADLY I WAS SHOVING MY STRUT POD DOWN MY OWN STATEMENT TUNNEL.

DAVE: dude

KARKAT: I MEAN, UNTIL YOU MERCIFULLY AND WITH A FAIR AMOUNT OF TACT SHUT ME DOWN.

KARKAT: DON'T YOU REMEMBER?

JOHN: uh...

JOHN: maybe?

KARKAT: HOW CAN YOU NOT REMEMBER THAT?

JOHN: i dunno, it was a long time ago!

JOHN: and we had a lot of ridiculous conversations...

KARKAT: OK, WELL MAYBE IT WAS A BIGGER DEAL FOR ME THAN IT WAS FOR YOU.

KARKAT: I MEAN, *OBVIOUSLY* IT WAS, THAT'S SORT OF THE WHOLE POINT.

KARKAT: BUT THE *REAL* POINT IS, OR THAT I WAS *TRYING* TO MAKE, IS THAT IT *ISN'T* A BIG DEAL ANY MORE.

KARKAT: BECAUSE I'M OVER IT!

DAVE: karkat what the fuck are you doing

KARKAT: WHAT!

KARKAT: I'M TALKING, QUITE CASUALLY, ABOUT SOME SHIT THAT'S NOT A BIG DEAL.

KARKAT: AND THE *POINT* IS THAT IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL ANYMORE, SO I'M JUST CASUALLY SAYING THAT! GOD.

DAVE: ok its not an unreasonable conversation to have but like

DAVE: we JUST started friend-jamming about past anecdotes to get us all up to speed or whatever

DAVE: and youre already trucking out these guns

KARKAT: GUNS? WHAT GUNS!

DAVE: just sayin, it doesnt sound that casual and no big deal if you keep saying its casual and no big deal oh and also its the first fuckin thing out of your mouth to john in three years

KARKAT: SORRY!

KARKAT: I'M SO TRULY FUCKING SORRY. I FORGOT THERE WAS SUCH AN OUTSTANDINGLY SMOOTH PILE OF SHIT IN A CAPE WITHIN MY JUDGMENT RADIUS!

JOHN: no, i mean, i think i remember.

JOHN: i think you were um, "black flirting" with me or something, but in backwards order, and while constantly yelling.

JOHN: and i didn't really even know what that was.

JOHN: and then i told you i wasn't a homosexual, so it was kind of a moot point, but also, you didn't even know what that was either?

KARKAT: YES!

KARKAT: THAT'S BASICALLY WHAT HAPPENED

KARKAT: AND THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS *TRYING* TO SAY I WAS OVER, AND WASN'T A BIG DEAL ANYMORE, BUT NOW IT'S A BIG DEAL AGAIN I GUESS?

KARKAT: THAT'S FUCKING GREAT! THANKS DAVE!

DAVE: yo im hardly one to talk here since i am a goddamn geyser of hilariously self-pulverizing freudian bloopers

DAVE: at this point i cant even pretend to keep a lid on any shit ive got in me cause i know sooner or later during one of my rad soliloquies ill just pratfall butt backwards into an embarrassing admission and i just have to be like yeah... yeah ok thats my shit thats what im about lets just get the fuck on with our lives

DAVE: so when johns like hey man and youre all locked and loaded with some stuff about how youre 'over him' and go on and on about it its like some way obvious protest-too-much shit and everybody knows it so i dont see how it salvages any of your dignity or whatever to pretend thats not whats happening

KARKAT: OH MY FUCKING GOD...

DAVE: so what im saying is if youre so eager to push this out there-

KARKAT: I'M NOT "PUSHING THIS OUT THERE"!

DAVE: if youre pushing this out there which you are then maybe we should rap about it

DAVE: i mean discuss it critically and earnestly not drop ill rhymes or anything tho that could be sweet too

KARKAT: UEHRNGH.

DAVE: so are you SURE you still dont have these unreconciled blackrom feelings about john

DAVE: i say we air this out before it ferments into some rank and hella unexamined feeling sauce

JOHN: dave, i think you're making karkat uncomfortable!

JOHN: are you being a wise guy and trying to make us uncomfortable?

DAVE: no!

DAVE: i dont do that to bros thats huge uncool

DAVE: i dont see what has to be uncomfy about chattin out our true ass thoughts and emotions

KARKAT: YEEUURHNGHGHH.

DAVE: dude you clearly had a spades thing for john but i dont recall you ever bringing it up

DAVE: is this something you been thinking about all this time or

KARKAT: NO!

KARKAT: NOT... NOT REALLY

DAVE: yeah we coulda talked about this

DAVE: i have all KINDS of shit to say about john seeing as he was my number 1 dude for approximately the majority of 13 years

DAVE: the main dead end here man is like, nothing personal at all its just that he is literally incapable of hating anyone

KARKAT: I KNOW THAT!

KARKAT: THAT IS THE *EXACT* FUCKING THING I KNEW AND UNDERSTOOD, AND WHY I FELT SO STUPID ABOUT IT IN HINDSIGHT!

JOHN: well...

JOHN: not that i really want to egg on this train of thought, but i dunno if that's quite true.

KARKAT: IT'S NOT?

JOHN: i can get really angry and hate stuff too, just like you. but i think only in extreme cases?

JOHN: the skull guy in suspenders i got REALLY pissed off at...

JOHN: but i am a hundred percent sure that hate was platonic!

DAVE: gettin pissed off at a suspender dude sounds like just the sort of yarn i wanna be all ears for some time

DAVE: but ok thats something to work with

DAVE: hey karkat maybe theres some hope yet maybe its not a total lost cause

KARKAT: NERGH!

JOHN: ok, dave, it definitely sounds like you're trying to own us now!

DAVE: own

DAVE: what

DAVE: no way

DAVE: im being real as a motherfucker

JOHN: being able to hate things i think is...

JOHN: the smaller part of that equation?

JOHN: what about the other part? don't you think that's, uh...

JOHN: a little more significant?

DAVE: what part

JOHN: the part about not being a homosexual!!!

DAVE: john

DAVE: dude i gotta say

DAVE: when you talk about being or not being "a homosexual" you kinda sound like a corny old man

JOHN: what! why?

JOHN: no, that's a normal way of putting it!

JOHN: i mean... it's a pretty normal thing to say, right? when that's... how... you are?

KARKAT: SOMEBODY FUCKING KILL ME.

DAVE: what does normal mean though

DAVE: normal was some crap that ruled our dead civilization

DAVE: we left that behind years ago

DAVE: its all a huge pile of shit that doesnt matter anymore

JOHN: oh. kay?

JOHN: so then, you're saying...

JOHN: what are you saying?

DAVE: im not sure i guess

JOHN: ...

DAVE: ok i guess what im saying is

DAVE: i dont think its all as simple as you think it is

DAVE: or maybe not like ACTIVELY think it is but continue to assume it is on account of NOT thinkin about it much

DAVE: due to a lot of junk about the subject that gets shoved into our brains from movies and stuff while we were just dumb kids

JOHN: i,

JOHN: hm.

DAVE: im just saying it probably isnt as absolute or simplistic as the way youve been framing it

DAVE: or maybe it is for you personally i dont know

DAVE: im just guessing you havent spent much time thinking about it if only cause all the stuff we read and watch suggests that like even examining your honest thoughts about it is perilous road to go down

DAVE: cause if you actually think too much about it without always having that undercurrent of haha nope nope nope THEN what happens

DAVE: what if it turns out youre like...

JOHN: ...like?

DAVE: like not exactly the way you thought you were

DAVE: or maybe not so much that, as old presumptions about what you were turn out to be not that relevant?

KARKAT: (WHY. WHY ARE THESE WORDS HAPPENING TO OUR CONVERSATION.)

DAVE: i dunno man

DAVE: not sure what youve been doing the last 3 years all riding a large boat, then saving everyone from apocalyptic whatever

DAVE: but ive had a fuck ton of time on my hands to think about stuff

DAVE: about stuff ive said and done in the past why i said and did them

DAVE: a lot of things i once would have insisted were like part of my brand and helped me come across cool and smartassy

DAVE: but now im not so sure

DAVE: we used rip on each other all the time for being gay even though we knew we werent which of course is what made it "funny" remember

JOHN: yeah.

JOHN: i dunno, it was pretty funny, sometimes.

JOHN: it was just a lot of joking around!

DAVE: yeah i know

DAVE: it frankly IS funny to say how gay something is sometimes and lets face it sometimes someone or something is just flat out REALLY fucking gay and theres no two ways about it

DAVE: its more like that through the preponderance of all that jokey shit is an underlying implication that its all lame stuff for pansies but not like us no were not lame and ha ha thats the joke

DAVE: which thrives on this like double-buried implication that the REAL COOL SHIT is founded on this absurd wanky ideal about masculinity which if you think about it is 1. dumb as fuck 2. the male adulation of masculinity to that extent TO BE HONEST is pretty fucking gay unto itself and 3. was always some totally impossible shit for us to live up to anyway

DAVE: i think all thats mixed up with the same phony ideals about heroism

DAVE: like living up to the storybook idea of what a hero to me feels almost interchangeable with living up to societys snapshot of what a hard manly dude should be

DAVE: i stopped pretending i could ever live up to either thing a while ago

DAVE: and mainly have spent time looking back on the sheer magnitude of all my "joking around"

DAVE: i used to lambaste fuckers left and right grinding them into the pavement over how gay they probably were and how much they were quite possibly jonesin to kiss some dudes or such

DAVE: and i dont really feel bad about it in the sense that it was jerky or like "insensitive" necessarily even though i guess it maybe was

DAVE: more that i feel like it was probably transparent

DAVE: a massive front of outrageous snark to disguise a lot of insecurity

DAVE: like a fuckin coverup

DAVE: as long as i kept clowning hard about it i didnt actually have to think about it or face my actual beliefs

JOHN: dave, um.

JOHN: all that's cool and all, and...

JOHN: i think i mostly agree?

JOHN: but...

JOHN: ummmm, how do i put this.

JOHN: are you...

JOHN: are you gay now?

DAVE: what no

KARKAT: (THE WORDS. WHY WON'T THE WORDS STOP. DEAR GOD.)

JOHN: i dunno, it sounds to me like you're trying tell me something here!

DAVE: man no look

JOHN: i mean, it's ok if you're gay now!

JOHN: that's totally cool, if true.

JOHN: i just think...

JOHN: you turning gay would be kind of a weird consequence of me changing the time line around?

JOHN: ok, not "weird"...

JOHN: just, unexpected!

JOHN: i dunno what i did that would account for that.

JOHN: maybe saving one of terezi's plush toys did some goofy homosexual butterfly effect thing on you?

JOHN: jeez, who knows!

DAVE: dude you arent listening

DAVE: although a gay butterfly effect is a pretty funny idea lets not dismiss that as a concept altogether

DAVE: anyway maybe what im tryin to say is sorta getting lost in the weeds here

DAVE: the fact that you were wondering if i "turned gay" makes me think maybe youre still not quite on the wavelength im tryin to ramble on here

DAVE: maybe we should wrestle this topic to the ground another time, theres a lot more id wanna say but this is probably not the venue

DAVE: i mean not literally wrestle to the ground because that is maybe literally the gayest course of action we could possibly take but you know what i mean

KARKAT: (YES! LATER! TALK LATER, BECAUSE THEN THE WORDS WOULD STOP! OH WOULDN'T THAT BE LOVELY.)

JOHN: that's fine, we can talk about anything you want, any time.

JOHN: i'm just still confused about what you're getting at, is all.

JOHN: like, what is the bottom line here?

JOHN: are you actually attracted to boys now?

JOHN: do you...

JOHN: um.

JOHN: did you...

JOHN: like, date any boys?

DAVE: uh

JOHN: but there weren't even that many boys on the meteor?

JOHN: well, there's the clown guy, but i don't really see you and him...

JOHN: that really only leaves...

JOHN: um, were you and karkat...

JOHN: ARE you and karkat, like.

JOHN: hmm.

KARKAT: NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO.

KARKAT: I RETREAT TO MY SAFE PLACE, AND YET THE WORDS. THE STUPID FUCKING PRATTLE JOCKEYING LIKE ROWDY BARNBEASTS UP AGAINST THE PARTITIONS OF GOOD FUCKING SENSE AND THE MOST BASIC OF PERSONAL BOUNDARIES.

KARKAT: THE GOD DAMNED BLITHER OF TACTLESS NINCOMPOOPS, HOW IT CONTINUES TO HAUNT MY WRETCHED EARS. THE WORDS SPILL OVER THE SIDE OF THIS ENCHANTED METAL FROG DISCUS, LIKE A BABBLING SPRING IN A MYTHICAL FOREST GOVERNED BY A GUILD OF GOSSIP-HUNGRY LOBOTOMY HOBBITS. THIS DELUGE OF WORDS, LEAKED FROM THE INCONTINENT CREVICES OF TWO BRAINLESS GUSHING YAMMERTWATS, IT OVERFLOWETH, OH HOW IT OVERFLOWETH, SOGGING MY GRAY, PRACTICAL PAIR OF PANTS, THE LEGGINGS OF A SIMPLE MAN. A HUMBLE MAN. IT THEN CONTINUES ITS DOWNWARD TRICKLE, DOUSING MY UNREMARKABLE SHIRT, THE SERVICEABLE GARMENT OF YOUR AVERAGE ALTERNIAN "JOE", CHILLING THE FRAIL TORSO BENEATH, A PATHETIC DUFFEL OF MEAT WRACKED WITH HEAVY SOBS, SOBS CAUSED BY WORDS, WORDS WHICH CONTINUE TO DRIP. AND SLEUCE. AND SPILL. THREATENING TO DROWN ME. PLEDGING TO. PROMISING! AND YET I WILL NOT DROWN. WHY WON'T I DROWN? PLEASE LET ME DROWN. LET ME DROWN SO THE WORDS WILL BE NO MORE!

JOHN: dave, i'm pretty sure we're making karkat uncomfortable now.

DAVE: yeah maybe we should drop this

JOHN: ok.

DAVE: i dunno if you ever picked this up from him but hes a pretty sensitive guy

JOHN: what?? nooooo.

DAVE: its true

DAVE: hes pretty much the easiest dude to rip on and makes for an irresistible target but you also have to know where to draw the line

DAVE: really dont wanna actually you know like

DAVE: upset him

JOHN: yeah, me neither.

JOHN: um...

JOHN: what the fuck is he doing?

DAVE: man i dont know

DAVE: thats just his regular shit

DAVE: like, an every day occurrence but with different bodily positions and geographic configurations

JOHN: i see.

DAVE: bro will you get the fuck up here

KARKAT: NO!

DAVE: k suit yourself

DAVE: um anyway

DAVE: as you can see ive been spending probably way too much time with trolls

JOHN: ha ha.

DAVE: it messes with you

DAVE: gets you thinkin about... stuff

DAVE: you know?

JOHN: i can imagine.

JOHN: i think life was a lot more boring on the ship.

JOHN: but we talked about you all a lot!

JOHN: we would always wonder how you and rose were managing to get along with all those crazy trolls.

JOHN: i think mostly we pictured a lot of arguments.

DAVE: thats not too far off

JOHN: i'm still getting used to having such insane, limitless powers that let me go anywhere i want...

JOHN: it's tempting to go to time periods like yours and find out what i missed.

JOHN: but i don't want to mess with too much anymore, since it seems like i got the time line to a nice stable place as it is.

JOHN: so i guess i just have to do what any regular guy does, and imagine fondly what it would be like if i got to travel with you guys.

JOHN: i wonder if i would have gotten like... absorbed in troll culture too? or troll ways of thinking.

DAVE: its really inevitable

DAVE: you pick up the lingo they pick up yours

DAVE: its like a stupid cultural melange after a while that barely makes any sense from either frame of reference

JOHN: i wonder if i would have learned to understand black romance?

JOHN: it's such a goofy idea, but it seems pretty important to trolls.

DAVE: they take all their quadrants pretty seriously tbh

JOHN: yeah.

JOHN: years ago when we first met the trolls, i remember being pretty fascinated by all our cultural differences, when karkat and vriska were telling me about them.

JOHN: i remember really sincerely trying to understand it all from their point of view! it's hard though.

JOHN: i still think about the idea of black romance sometimes, and try to imagine how that really works... or "feels"... i don't know.

JOHN: do you understand it?

DAVE: yeah ive spent enough time talkin about it where i think i "get it" but

DAVE: ive never had cause or any real inclination to put it into practice or anything

JOHN: mainly the idea of hating somebody, and translating that into attraction, or some kind of romancey feeling... it feels so alien to me.

JOHN: and you're right, i have a really hard time even hating anyone in the first place!

DAVE: word

JOHN: i mean, i get ANNOYED by people, sure.

DAVE: like who

DAVE: me?

JOHN: no, not really.

JOHN: well, sometimes, but not much. i always tended to exaggerate my grievances with you, for the sake of laughs.

DAVE: heheh

JOHN: a better example is, more recently, when i was doing my retcon mission...

JOHN: i was getting REALLY annoyed with terezi and her mind games.

DAVE: yuuup

JOHN: it definitely never crossed the line to "hate" though, because we were working together to try and fix a dire situation, and even though she's weird and insane, she's otherwise a pretty good friend.

JOHN: but all her needling and japes at totally inappropriate times, when there was so much on the line...

JOHN: argh, it was SO FRUSTRATING.

KARKAT: EGBERT, I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU.

DAVE: whoa hes back!

DAVE: all right side up and everything

KARKAT: I HEARD YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT QUADRANTS, SO I DECIDED TO PAUSE MY TANTRUM.

KARKAT: JOHN, ALL YOU'RE DOING HERE IS DESCRIBING THE SUBTLE FEELINGS WHICH PLANT THE SEED FOR HAVING A CALIGINOUS CRUSH ON SOMEONE.

JOHN: what??

KARKAT: YOU HEARD ME.

KARKAT: YOU ARE NAIVELY ADMITTING TO STRUGGLING WITH SOME BLACK FEELINGS FOR TEREZI.

KARKAT: SO, THERE YOU GO. QUESTION ANSWERED.

KARKAT: TURNS OUT YOU ARE PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF BLACK ROMANCE.

JOHN: n... no!

KARKAT: A FAIR REBUTTAL. HOWEVER, CONSIDER THIS COUNTERPOINT:

KARKAT: Y... YES???

JOHN: but i don't HATE her, and i'm sure i never will!

JOHN: i'm just saying i find her, like, somewhat annoying, and REALLY aggravating a lot of the time, but that's it!

KARKAT: BUT THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT THE FEELING IS!

KARKAT: IT DOESN'T START OUT AS FULL BLOWN ANTIPATHY, AND IT RARELY EVEN REACHES SUCH AN EXTREME LEVEL OF HOSTILITY EVEN OVER LONG TERM BLACK RELATIONSHIPS.

KARKAT: THERE ARE PEAKS TO IT, BUT OTHERWISE A GENERAL EBB AND FLOW TO THE DARK FEELINGS, JUST LIKE WITH FLUSHED RELATIONSHIPS.

JOHN: ok, but...

JOHN: i don't know if i'm expressing myself clearly.

JOHN: i felt aggravated by her a lot, but that doesn't fully describe...

JOHN: like, there were those "negative" feelings, but also...

JOHN: but...

KARKAT: YEAH, THAT'S IT, RIGHT THERE!!!

KARKAT: THE "BUT" IS ALWAYS PART OF IT.

KARKAT: WHAT YOU'RE *TRYING* TO SAY IS, YOU HAD FRUSTRATED, NEGATIVE EMOTIONS TOWARD HER, BUT THEY DON'T COMPREHENSIVELY ACCOUNT FOR YOUR ATTITUDE TOWARD HER.

KARKAT: MEANING, THERE ARE SOME THINGS ABOUT HER YOU ACTUALLY LIKE, BUT THE NEGATIVE FEELINGS MAKE IT HARD FOR YOU TO PUT YOUR FINGER ON THEM, OR EVEN WANT TO ACKNOWLEDGE THEM.

KARKAT: THAT IS ABSOLUTELY STANDARD. WHAT GOOD WOULD IT BE HAVING A KISMESIS WHO DIDN'T POSSESS QUALITIES YOU ACTUALLY ADMIRED ON SOME LEVEL?

KARKAT: THAT WOULD BE BORING, AND IT WOULDN'T EVEN WORK. THERE'D BE NO TENSION, NO PUSH AND PULL IN THE TURBULENT EMOTIONAL LANDSCAPE. THE SUBTLE POSITIVES ADD FUEL TO THE NEGATIVE FEELINGS, OFTEN GIVING THEM A REASON TO EXIST AT ALL. THEY INFLAME THE AGGRAVATING FACTORS, REMINDING YOU DEEP DOWN HOW MUCH YOU WOULD LIKE AND ADMIRE THIS PERSON IF IT WASN'T FOR ALL THEIR INFURIATING FLAWS, AND THE INCREDIBLE SENSE OF FRUSTRATION THAT CAUSES ALONG WITH ALL THE ASSOCIATED HOT-HEADED FEELINGS, THAT'S THE ESSENCE OF BLACK ROMANCE.

KARKAT: AND THE POSITIVE QUALITIES YOU SEE DEEP DOWN IN A KISMESIS ALSO SERVE AS THE BASIS FOR RED FEELINGS TOWARD THAT PERSON, ASSUMING THE RELATIONSHIP EVER STARTS TO VACILLATE.

KARKAT: IT'S ALL PRETTY STRAIGHTFORWARD, REALLY.

JOHN: no... this is messed up!

DAVE: i dunno john it all sounds pretty logical to me

DAVE: karkat knows his shit when it comes to quadrants

JOHN: argh!

JOHN: it can't be true though...

JOHN: it feels so fucked up!

JOHN: what if you're right though... erg! no...

JOHN: no, no, no, no...

KARKAT: THAT'S PART OF IT TOO!

KARKAT: THE "NO NO NO" IS ALL PART OF THE FEELING. THAT'S HOW IT *ALWAYS* GOES.

KARKAT: THIS SENSE OF SELF INCRIMINATION WHEN IT'S DAWNING ON YOU THAT YOU HAVE THESE CONFLICTING FEELINGS TOWARD SOMEONE WHO BUGS YOU SO MUCH.

KARKAT: OH MY GOD, THIS WHOLE REACTION IS SO FUCKING TEXTBOOK. IT'S HILARIOUS, REALLY.

JOHN: it's fucked up though!!!

KARKAT: IT'S SUPPOSED TO FEEL FUCKED UP!

JOHN: aw, man. :(

JOHN: i just wanted to have a nice catch-up chat, not get so transparently owned at the trollmances.

DAVE: it happens to the best of us sooner or later

DAVE: this crap is kind of old hat to me by now but i get why youre kinda freckling at the implications here

DAVE: you didnt have years of livin with trolls to kinda normalize this stuff

JOHN: i don't think i want it to feel normalized though!

JOHN: i'm not ready to...

JOHN: like, admit that... i have some warped spade crush on her, based on...

JOHN: some feeling i don't understand and makes no sense to me!

JOHN: oh god... what if it's true??

JOHN: i have to try as hard as i can to suppress this feeling and make sure i never think about it again!

DAVE: ok sounds like a weenie thing to do but sure have fun with that

JOHN: fuck.

JOHN: yeah, probably.

JOHN: just...

JOHN: please don't tell her about any of this, ok guys?

KARKAT: JOHN, YOU DON'T HAVE TO REMIND US ABOUT ONE OF THE MOST FUNDAMENTAL STATUTES OF THE BRO CODE, WHICH IS PRACTICALLY FUCKING SCRIPTURE ON MY PLANET, DATING BACK HUNDREDS OF MILLENIA.

KARKAT: DAVE AND I FUCKING SLEEP AND BREATHE THE BRO CODE AND ALL OF ITS CLAUSES, NO MATTER HOW FINE THE PRINT.

KARKAT: FEEL FREE TO COME AND TALK TO US ABOUT THIS ANY TIME. YOUR SECRETS WILL ALWAYS BE SAFE.

DAVE: dude that sentiment is well and good but

DAVE: when youre pledging a vow of secrecy maybe you should try to keep it down a little

KARKAT: DAMN. YEAH.

KARKAT: SORRY.

JOHN: this is really confusing though.

JOHN: assuming you're right, and i am "busted" on having those feelings... and i'm not even saying you aren't.

JOHN: but...

JOHN: i thought humans weren't supposed to be able to feel stuff like that?

KARKAT: LIKE WHAT EXACTLY?

JOHN: like, perceive and feel romantic stuff, in the same way trolls do.

JOHN: because we're aliens to each other!

JOHN: well ok, humans can feel the gay stuff pretty often, i guess.

JOHN: i didn't think we could feel the spade stuff, though.

JOHN: i dunno, i just thought it was some screwy biological difference?

DAVE: nah i disagree

DAVE: both humans and trolls are emotionally versatile sentient beings that can feel many hells of different things

JOHN: you're probably right.

JOHN: you would know better than me, at least.

DAVE: thats always a smart fallback position btw

DAVE: especially on rap

DAVE: i could school you on rap too are you confused about rap

JOHN: no dave, i think i'm pretty squared away on rap.

JOHN: at least for now. :p

DAVE: so uh

DAVE: this has been a hell of a reminiscence so far

JOHN: yeah...

DAVE: seriously though i wasnt actually intending to fork this like instantaneously in the direction of some like

DAVE: legitimately sincere dialogue on fuckin sexuality and romance

DAVE: i didnt plan on this dude you gotta believe me

JOHN: i believe you!

JOHN: it's been cool though.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: did we cover everything

JOHN: um...

JOHN: probably not?

JOHN: oh, right.

JOHN: you dated jade for a while, so there's that.

DAVE: whoa what

JOHN: i mean, dave sprite did.

DAVE: oh

JOHN: and of course i mean, the one from my time, obviously not the one from this time, who died i guess before that happened.

DAVE: right

JOHN: man, that still just seems... so sad.

JOHN: i guess even when you fix things, not everything can be perfect.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: so

DAVE: howd that go

DAVE: me and jade

DAVE: or...

DAVE: him and jade

JOHN: ok, i guess.

JOHN: my sense was, it was kind of dramatic overall.

JOHN: i'm not sure it was the best relationship, probably because of dave sprite's uh...

JOHN: "unique issues".

DAVE: hmm

JOHN: but there were a lot of fun memories.

JOHN: i'll tell you about them some time. maybe when jade is awake, because i'm sure she'd want to know too!

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: hey

DAVE: um

JOHN: ?

DAVE: the girl you came with

DAVE: roses mom

JOHN: roxy?

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: whats she like

JOHN: she's nice!!!

JOHN: really nice.

JOHN: she is fun and easy to talk to...

JOHN: it almost feels like she has always been one of our friends, you know?

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: how uh

DAVE: how long have you and she actually been traveling together

JOHN: umm...

JOHN: not too long.

JOHN: we only met like a day ago, i mean, from my perspective.

DAVE: huh

JOHN: she's been through some really difficult stuff recently.

JOHN: well, we both have, actually.

JOHN: but i feel like it was all... a bit more personal for her?

JOHN: being on her adventure, then suddenly losing all her friends, and watching rose die right there, while she'd been kinda viewing rose as a version of her mom...

JOHN: i was just some goofball drifting randomly here and there between realities, so i was mostly just confused by everything.

JOHN: but for her, i could tell it was all really devastating.

JOHN: i'm so happy she gets to be with rose again!!!!!!!!!!

JOHN: not to mention all her other friends!

JOHN: for some reason i feel happier for her getting to reunite with people she lost than i do for myself.

DAVE: it sounds like you like her

JOHN: i do!

DAVE: no i mean

DAVE: actually like her

JOHN: oh.

JOHN: ... uh, hm.

JOHN: i don't know.

JOHN: maybe.

DAVE: wow dude after one day maybe you should slow your roll

JOHN: i didn't say i did though!!!

DAVE: im joking its fine who cares

JOHN: oh, ok.

DAVE: shes my mom isnt she

JOHN: man.

JOHN: i'm not sure if we should keep thinking about all our relations that way.

DAVE: why

JOHN: it's kinda weird!

DAVE: is it

JOHN: ...

DAVE: do you feel weird about dating my mom is that it

JOHN: i'm not dating her though!

DAVE: but if you did

DAVE: then you wouldnt wanna think of her like that because of like the familial weirdtimes it invokes

JOHN: jeez.

JOHN: i don't know. i...

JOHN: i don't know if i'm ready for every single "deep" conversation we can squeeze into this wacky rapid fire session of fun pal-talk!

DAVE: ok

DAVE: but

DAVE: i think i like thinking of her as my mom

DAVE: even if its a lil weird

JOHN: you do?

JOHN: why?

DAVE: not sure

DAVE: i never even stopped and thought about it before

DAVE: the idea of what it would be like to have a mom

DAVE: instead of a hyper-aggressive lunatic of an adult male guardian

DAVE: i never let myself give it a second of consideration

DAVE: but now

DAVE: seeing her actually here even though shes just some teen girl i never met

DAVE: i like the idea

DAVE: its nice

JOHN: ...

JOHN: ok, that's actually kind of cute.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: yeah i guess it kind of fucking is

JOHN: alright, well.

JOHN: no matter what happens, it's ok with me if you want to think of her that way. :)

DAVE: sweet

#homestuck #john egbert #dave strider #karkat vantas #vriska serket #homestuck act 6 #page 7487 #page 7488 #page 7489 #page 7490 #page 7491 #page 7492 #homestuck act 6 act 6 #homestuck act 6 act 6 intermission 5

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nahiyasha · 8 months

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cancer

publised under The Westernian Advocate Column, Newsletter, 2018

The minds of youth today seem to feed on whatever is on the trending list in the media, no matter how irrelevant it may appear, they seem to go on about it as if it actually contributes to the growth of our nation—or for this matter, ourselves. There is nothing special in turning controversies into a laughing stock. Somehow, they always try to find a way to pleasure themselves through nonsensical list of trends.

They need to understand that when a thing does not need to be humored, it actually does not need for it to be. I think what they lack these days is common sense, which is ironic to think of since to step foot in another human’s shoes is easy—yet they always fail to do so because they never really care about what is happening in our society. They only care about themselves, however, because of the wrong ideas that they feed to themselves on a daily basis, they are also the ones who are disrupting their own growth as an individual.

You will be able to see it through the way they speak. When shallow words leak through someone’s mouth, expect that the mind they have is also as shallow. There was this one time when I was walking near the study area, I heard a group of guys screaming about ‘gang rape’, and as I walk pass closer to them, I rolled my eyes in disappointment when I saw them playing a game on their phones.

Firstly, there is nothing wrong with playing a game while also being in the vicinity of the campus, because I myself play too sometimes when I have time. But I will never be the person who will use the word rape in such context. Not because I am an English major who prefers to use the term in the right way—but because I know well enough that rape is a serious matter—that people who has and still is a victim of this case is something we need to take seriously.

Because these are people who deserve so many good things in life yet because rapists exist, it is unfortunate that their lives are already a living torment to themselves. Hence, I will not let myself be one of the problems that cause ignorance in the society. I will not associate that term, or cuss it even, through a mere game.

We are young adults growing for the betterment, not only for loved ones, and ourselves but also for the community and society with which we are brought up in. We are all striving through college, hoping and believing that the degree we are all pursuing will take us far one day. However, if most of us will conform to the mentality such as this, none of us will reach beyond the boundary of the goals that we take pride in.

Stop conforming to what society likes to see or talk about. Wanting to be appreciated is given, but that does not mean you should go to such great lengths of absurd thinking only to please the people around you—or so at least to appease to yourselves that maybe people can accept you if you become like everyone else. Maybe that is why our society likes to twist and turn the struggles of most people. It is scary that they keep multiplying—do not let yourself be a part of the people who never actually try to understand.

#opinion #column #newsletter #writing #cancer

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kittymaine · 2 years

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Yule

// Summary: Cloud realizes the day before Yule that he hasn't bought a present for Zack and has to scramble to find one. Luckily, Aerith and Tifa are there to help.

This fic exists in the nebulous space after a longfic I've been thinking about, but haven't written yet. For the purpose of this setting, Cloud and Zack met under different circumstances which led to Midgard not being destroyed and Aerith not biting the big one. Cloud and Zack have been in an established relationship for a while when this fic starts.

Also, I think Christmas might exist in the original game, I couldn't remember, but decided to use Yule as a stand in for Christmas because I thought it was the closest analogue to what might actually exist after Shinra goes away.

This was written for the Slice of Clack challenge. The theme was celebration and the specific prompt was holidays. //

“So, what are you getting Zack for Yule?” Tifa asked from across the bar.

Cloud’s head jerked up from where he had been staring deeply into the bottom of his whiskey glass, thinking about a whole lot of nothing.

“Yule?” Cloud asked, frowning. “It’ll be awhile before then, right?” he asked, hoping he was right. The frown that settled on Tifa’s face quickly told him he was wrong.

“Cloud, Yule is in two days. Did you seriously not notice?” she asked, straightening up from where she had been leaned against the bar to balance her hands on her hips and give him a proper look of disapproval.

Cloud grimaced and looked back down at his drink. “I saw people putting up decorations and stuff, but I didn’t really think about it.”

Cloud didn’t have to look at Tifa to know that her look had gone from angry to disappointed. The way her feet shifted and her hands dropped from her hips told him all of that.

This would be the first Yule that Cloud would spend with someone else since he left home. At least, it would be the first time he would spend Yule with someone else while there was no crisis going on.

Back in Nibelheim, Yule was a big event. They still didn’t have big celebrations like a more prosperous town might, but it was something people prepared for months in advance. Most people in the tiny village didn’t have enough money to really throw a big party or give any big gifts, but people would put up pine boughs above their doors and kids would get candies or fruits and the moms would cook a big breakfast, the biggest one they could manage anyway.

Cloud had noted when he came to Midgar that it seemed like Yule and most of the other holidays he grew up with weren’t really observed. Shinra had their own company holidays and those seemed to be the only ones that anyone cared about or celebrated with any real fanfare. The wheel of the year holidays were there, mostly under the plate, but if you celebrated them in view of Shinra you were treated like a country bumpkin. Cloud supposed it was just another way of trying to twist culture to forget about the old ways of honoring the planet. At least, that’s probably what Barrett would have said. Cloud had never given it much thought.

After Shinra had shut down and then rebranded, the old holidays had started to come back with a vengeance. Lammas had been a big deal that summer and Cloud and Zack had both enjoyed the festivals and all the food stands. Zack especially had loved all the people and all that happy joyful energy.

There was no point in hoping that Zack wasn’t thinking about Yule. This was the kind of thing he would be all about.

Groaning, Cloud rested his elbows on the bar and put his head in his hands.

Sighing, Tifa pat Cloud on the head. “You’ve still got time,” she reassured him, scratching her short fingernails through his unruly hair. “So long as you get something, he won’t have to know you forgot. Just get him something nice, you know?”

“Fuck, Tifa,” Cloud groaned, letting his head fall forward onto the hard waxy surface of the bar. He tapped his forehead against it, taking the tacky stick of the bar against his skin as his rightful punishment. “I’m so bad at this. I don’t know what to get him.”

“It’s not that hard,” Tifa said sternly, now grabbing at the root of his hair and giving him a little shake, only letting go when Cloud let out a lackluster ‘ow’. “You probably know Zack better than anyone. The two of you certainly spend enough time together. There’s a bazaar in Sector 5. Why don’t you go there and look around a little. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“Ugh,” Cloud responded elegantly.

“Why don’t I call Aerith?” Tifa suggested. “She can go along and help you pick out something.

“Hell no,” Cloud grunted, turning his face to the side so he could get that out clearly. “She’s chaotic enough as it is. I’m sure she’s twice as bad during Yule.”

“Yeah,” Tifa said slowly, her mouth twisting into a small smile despite herself. “But, she and Zack have similar personalities. If you can keep her focused long enough, she should be able to help you find something.”

“I hate this,” Cloud muttered into the wood.

“You’ll live,” Tifa said flatly.

Cloud met up with Aerith at the sector 5 train platform after he got off of work the next day. Zack had been almost impossible to deflect when he found out Cloud was going somewhere that he wasn’t allowed to tag along, nor could he know where he was going, but Cloud was eventually able to pry him off and foist him on Ms. Folia. Her flat stare and enviable ability to withstand basically any annoyance meant Zack was stuck, the only person Cloud knew that Zack couldn't charm his way around at least some of the time.

By the time Cloud was getting off the train, he sort of wished that he had failed to shake off Zack. Aerith and Zack got along so well it was like they were two halves of the same brain. There was a good chance if he brought Zack along, he could have waited until Zack and Aerith were wrapped up in something or other and then snuck off to shop by himself. The downside of that plan was that he would eventually have to try and find them later, which could be a pain. When they got together, they tended to lose track of time and their phones and where they were to the point that they could be almost anywhere in Midgar by the time a few hours had gone by.

No, it was probably better to stick to the plan and have Aerith help him with buying a gift.

"Cloud! Hey, over here!" Aerith's voice called to him as he stepped off the train. Looking around, Cloud spotted her over near a food stand, waving her hand at him and nearly beaning some guy in the face when he walked too close.

Cloud raised his own hand in a much smaller wave and jogged over to her. The smell coming off the foodstand she was standing beside was heavenly and once he got closer he saw why. Aerith was holding a paper plate with a crunchy lattice of fried dough topped with powdered sugar. Judging by the bits that had been ripped off already and the powdered sugar on her fingers and around her mouth, Aerith had been occupied while she had been waiting.

"How was your ride? Everything went okay?" Aerith asked, drawing his attention away from her snack.

"It was fine," Cloud answered shortly. "Have you been waiting long?" he frowned, worried that she had been waiting around for him for a while, even if she had got a snack while she was waiting.

"No, not at all!" she said happily. "Besides, I got a funnel cake. Do you want some?" she asked, holding out the paper plate.

Cloud frowned at it for a moment. It was literally just fried dough and sugar. If Tifa saw him eating something like that, he would surely catch hell for it. Ever since Midgar started recovering, all kinds of good food was showing up and it was hard to resist it all. Cloud glanced at Aerith, who was smiling at him mischievously like she knew what he was thinking.

"Just a little," Cloud agreed before ripping off a piece of sugared dough and popping it in his mouth.

They started walking and talking, Cloud eating much more of the funnel cake than he intended. Aerith was boisterous and excited about helping to find a present and told Cloud that she had been through the Yule bazaar three times already and that it was just great and she was absolutely sure they would find something for Zack there. The area the bazaar was in used to be the scrap graveyard but had since been cleaned up and was now used as a sort of impromptu event grounds until the city decided what they wanted to do with it. As they got closer the crowds grew thicker, people moving in groups of two and three, everyone happy and chattering, not unlike himself and Aerith.

"What was Yule like when you were young?" Aerith asked as they got closer to the bazaar, the smell of good food and winter spice getting stronger the closer they got. "You grew up in the north right?"

Cloud nodded and popped the last piece of the funnel cake in his mouth when Aerith offered it to him. "We celebrated, more so than Midgar did five years ago. But, it was nothing like this," Cloud trailed off as they walked under the entrance way, built of latticed recycled tin that had been painted white and threaded with sweet smelling pine boughs and then threaded again with bright white lights that twinkled and cast a gentle light over the heads of the people who passed beneath it.

Once they were through the entrance, an array of stands were laid out in orderly rows before them. Some of the stands had colorful cloth coverings, others were like small stores with shelves and tables set up with just enough room to scoot around them and still more were little more than a table with wares spread out on top and a chair for the owner to sit in.

"Come on! This way!" Aerith exclaimed, grabbing Cloud by his wrist and hauling him through the crowds and to the eastern edge of the bazaar. She obviously knew exactly where she was going so Cloud didn't protest, instead struggling to keep up without knocking anyone over. Aerith led him to a much more narrow aisle of stalls, away from the food and the bigger stands, most of them small with only a few tables and maybe a sign hung up to let you know what they were selling.

"The town pooled their money to buy this aisle, so this is all from sector 5 locals!" Aerith declared with a saucy wink while gesturing down the aisle.

Cloud kept his face impassive even as a stone settled somewhere in his stomach. Even though the lifestyles of the people who lived under the plate were improving, they still had it hard. This Yule bazaar was in the sector 5 underplate, but only this small aisle and these small stalls were from people who actually lived there. It worried Cloud to think that all those other stands had given him the impression that the slums were doing much better than they were. And, obviously, Aerith would want to support the other people from her sector and drum up business for them. Sometimes it hurt to think how much of a good person she was.

"Let's get something here," Cloud said, somewhat at a loss for what else he could say.

It seemed he said the right thing anyway, because his response had Aerith lighting up even more. With a squeal of excitement, she dragged him over to the stall that was closest to them and they started looking.

What Cloud had hoped would only be a short activity before he could head home turned out to take the rest of his day. It was incredibly hard to pick a gift that seemed worthy of Zack and all Cloud felt he deserved. Aerith liked almost everything they came across, from bedazzled Yule themed knick knacks to recycled colored glass jewelry to weird specialized items like jelly moulds and knitting bowls. She would argue for each item, coming up with some reason or another why Zack would be overcome to receive that item as a gift. Cloud picked out thick hand knitted socks that he thought would be practical considering how long Zack had to spend on his feet and how he always complained that his feet were cold, but Aerith was quick to veto that idea. 'Who wants to get socks for Yule?' she had cried, looking despondent that Cloud had even suggested such a gift.

Eventually, they had gone through all the stands in the sector 5 aisle and stopped at the end to get styrofoam cups of mulled wine and hot steaming potato and leek soup with crusty bread. It was filling and warmed them up after a long few hours spent standing outside. It didn't get nearly as cold in Midgar as it had in Nibelheim, but Cloud knew that lifelong Midgar citizens found the winter there to be plenty cold.

After their late dinner sitting on some upturned buckets beside the soup stand, Cloud and Aerith started to peruse the rest of the bazaar hoping for a good gift. They were moving faster by then, taking less time to look over every item closely and instead walking up and down aisles hoping something would grab their attention. Aerith was still hard to pin down, but it seemed like she was more focused by then, only really pointing out things that looked more useful like leather wax or nice bulky sweaters or cute mittens. Cloud found a small chocobo ornament made from chocobo feathers glued carefully to a ball of styrofoam, but that was struck down too. “That's a gift for you, not for Zack,” Aerith had said. She wasn't wrong.

It was getting late when they finally made it all the way to the other end of the bazaar and some of the stands were starting to pack up, the crowds much thinner.

"This is hopeless," Cloud muttered as they kept walking. "We're going to miss the last train if we keep looking much longer."

"Don't give up!" Aerith chided him. "If you don't get something today, you're in big trouble you know!"

"Ugh," Cloud responded. Then, tipping his head back he gave a much more enthusiastic "Uuuuugh!"

Aerith snorted and shoved him. They walked a few more steps quietly, both of them despairing when Aerith gasped and grabbed Cloud hard at the elbow.

"Ouch. What?" Cloud grumbled, pulling his smarting arm out of her tight grip.

"Cloud, look!" Aerith exclaimed, pointing at a small booth with a white sign taped up above it before taking off for it without glancing back to make sure Cloud was following. The sign said 'South Coast Imports' and even from a distance Cloud could tell that all the items they had were beach themed with tiki wood and colorful statues and woven grass baskets. Frowning, Cloud followed Aerith at a much more sedate pace.

Once he reached her, she was bouncing in place in front of a middle aged man with deep tan skin who was struggling to keep a smile on his face.

"This is it, Cloud!" she exclaimed. "They have to have something here for Zack."

"You think so?" Cloud said doubtfully. He glanced around at the stuff in the small stand. There was a lot of stuff, things on tables, under tables, hung on cork board and hanging from the canopy. But, it all looked super kitschy to Cloud. He knew Zack was from the South Coast, but he had never seen him rock a shark tooth necklace so he wasn't sure what he was supposed to get there.

"Sure I do!" Aerith responded confidently. "Sir, do you have anything from Gongaga?" she asked, turning back to the owner of the stand.

"Gongaga," the man repeated, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. "That's a pretty small place, but I think I have a few things here somewhere."

Aerith turned to Cloud triumphantly while the older man turned around to sort through some boxes of items he had shoved under a table. After just a few moments he returned with a handful of items which he put on the table in front of them after pushing a few other things out of the way. When Cloud stepped forward, he saw that he had laid out a white cloth headband with careful dark blue stitching along the edge, a small grass pouch, woven with dyed strands to form an appealing design on the front, and a clay bird with a hole on its tail, back and in its beak.

"What are they?" Cloud asked slowly. He knew what the headband was, but the other two just seemed like odd things to him.

"This is a headband popular in Gongaga, especially among the fishermen," the man said, holding it up for a moment. "This here," he said indicating the woven pouch, "is a talisman containing dried herbs and sand which the locals say bring good luck and keep away evil spirits." The owner infused his voice with as much gravitas as he could while explaining that. "And, this bird is a popular toy for children in Gongaga. It's a whistle," he explained before bringing it to his lips and letting out such a powerful screech that had not only Cloud and Aerith flinching back but most of the people at the surrounding stands as well.

"Uh," Cloud hesitated before glancing at Aerith for confirmation. He knew that Zack would probably be ecstatic to get a gift from his hometown, but they were such weird things. He wasn't sure if they would be unacceptable gifts.

But, he needn't even voice his concerns. Aerith's expression was shining with happiness and excitement, her bright green eyes sparkling with it.

"I'll take the headband and the talisman," Cloud said shortly. The man enthusiastically agreed, gathering up the items and putting them in a small brown paper bag while Cloud dug around in his pockets for some Gil.

"Aw! Not the bird?" Aerith pouted, reaching out with one long pretty finger to tap it a few times until it toppled over on its side.

"Zack doesn't need to be any louder than he already is," Cloud grumbled, earning a delighted giggle from Aerith.

"Excuse me, sir!" Aerith said as the man came back to exchange change with Cloud. "Could I buy that bird whistle?"

"Sure thing, Miss," he agreed quickly.

Cloud suppressed a cringe. He was sure he would be hearing the whistle again soon.

The day of Yule started pretty uneventfully. When Cloud was a teenager in Nibelheim, he would have started before dawn out looking for a huge yule log to put on the fire, one that would be able to burn all day long. When he got home, his mom would have made a big breakfast with lots of sausages and breads and jams. They would spend the day inside with each other drinking mulled wine or eggnog. Traditionally, for dinner you would go into the square and enjoy a huge feast with the entire village. Cloud and his mother had attended when he was very young, but they had stopped by the time he was eight or nine. Instead, they would share a big meal together by the last dying crackles of the yule log.

Cloud and Zack lived in a claustrophobically small apartment in sector 7. There was no fireplace to burn a yule log, let alone trees to cut down to get one. Zack still insisted on a big breakfast, though the food was more like what he would have had in Gongaga than the sausages and potatoes that were available during winter in Nibelheim.

Fresh fruit was still pretty expensive in Midgard, but Zack had rustled up apples and oranges from somewhere and sliced them up with nuts and drizzled honey along with creamy yogurt and fluffy crepes.

"When did you have time to get all this?" Cloud had asked in surprise, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat down at the table.

"I was able to sneak away yesterday during lunch and grab some stuff from the market," Zack grinned, taking a seat himself and loading his crepe up with fruit and whipped cream.

Cloud suppressed a wince at realizing that he and Zack had visited the bazaar mere hours apart from one another. Instead, he stabbed a slice of pear smothered in honey with a fork and shoved it in his mouth.

"Mmf!" he groaned around the mouthful. "Fuck, that's good," he groaned after swallowing.

"Right!?" Zack exclaimed. His first crepe was already almost gone, but luckily he had a lot more stacked on a plate between them. "I can't wait until we start getting pineapples and star fruit and shit in something other than a can. You'll love it, it's so good!"

Cloud kept eating and let Zack go on about the different fruits that were common in his home village. Eventually, Zack took a pause to eat the rest of his crepes and Cloud picked up with his own examples of foods he missed from home. Elderberries picked in early winter, sweet potatoes dug up from nearly frozen ground in late fall. Sweet wines in the spring made from berries and apples and pears.

"Maybe we should visit Gongaga next year," Cloud suggested as they cleaned up the last few crepes, using them mostly with just honey as everything else was gone between the two of them.

Zack hummed noncommittally and shoved a whole crepe in his mouth. Zack still had his parents in his home village and had visited by himself a few years ago. Cloud got the feeling that he was the reason Zack didn't go back more often, but didn't want to push it.

Neither of them suggested going to Nibelheim. There was nothing and no one waiting for them there.

"Hey! Let's exchange presents!" Zack suggested with a determined clap of his hands, changing the subject with the subtlety of a bull.

"Sure," Cloud agreed, anxiety starting to gnaw at his full stomach, though he tried to hide it.

Zack led the way from their small kitchenette back to their bed, the blankets still a tangled mess. He dug around under the bed for a moment before coming up with a small box wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with simple twine.

Cloud sat down slowly on the edge of the bed and accepted the small package, Zack quickly sitting down beside him and watching him expectantly.

It struck Cloud all at once that this was probably the first Yule gift he had received, that he could remember. Things had always been so tight at home, it was an unspoken rule between him and his mom that they wouldn't exchange presents. Maybe he had received some toys when he was younger, but he couldn’t remember it. He hadn't spent Yule with anyone else since his mother.

Tears stung at the back of his eyes and he hadn't even opened the box yet.

"Open it," Zack urged, bumping his shoulder into Cloud's in a fond way.

Cloud took a deep breath, tried to push all those tender feelings away, and untied the twine. He ripped open the paper along the seam on the bottom to reveal a simple thin cardboard box, the flaps at the top folded together. He used the edge of a fingernail to pull the flaps apart and shook the contents into his palm.

What came out was a cute yellow chocobo ornament made of real feathers stuck into round styrofoam balls, complete with orange wire feet and little black button eyes. Cloud was sure that it was the same one he had looked at the day before, the one that Aerith had scolded him was a better gift for him than for Zack.

"Well?" Zack asked with another shove at his shoulder. "What do you think?"

When Cloud glanced up at him with damp eyes, Zack was nervously pulling on a rubber band that seemed to eternally live on his wrist.

"I really like it," Cloud croaked. He no longer tried to disguise the tears threatening the edge of his eyelashes. This was Zack, after all. What was the point?

"Oh," Zack replied, his own voice getting choked up. "Good. Good, I'm glad!" Zack repeated before grabbing Cloud and pulling him into a tight hug.

They stayed like that for a while, Cloud using Zack's shoulder to wipe his tears and Zack sticking his nose in Cloud's hair, taking deep breaths like he could breathe him in if he just tried hard enough.

"I got you something too," Cloud muttered as he pulled away, feeling slightly more under control.

"Oh!" Zack exclaimed, sounding sincerely surprised.

Cloud frowned at him. "You thought I wouldn't get you anything," Cloud stated, his voice flat and unimpressed.

"No! I mean, yes, I thought, uh," Zack fumbled, seeming unsure whether to lie or explain himself or what.

Cloud sighed. "Don't worry about it. It's better if you don't have high expectations," he said as he stood up from the bed and went to the small metal wardrobe that they shared. He had shoved the paper bag with the two small tissue wrapped packages in the back of the top shelf behind a pile of old boots. He extracted the bag from its hiding place before going back to the bed and handing it to Zack as he sat back down.

Zack stared at the bag for a while, like he wasn't sure what to do with it.

"Are you going to open it?" Cloud prompted him when the wait had gone on too long.

"Oh, yeah! Sorry, just- Uh, yes, I am going to open it," Zack said slowly after fumbling again.

Cloud frowned at Zack as he carefully opened the little paper bag that was patterned on the outside with bright red prints of evergreen trees and snowflakes. Zack peered cautiously into the bag before reaching in with two fingers to draw out the little tissue paper packages. He then sat them in his lap and stared at them like he wasn't sure if they would bite him if he moved wrong or something.

"Zack," Cloud warned him, his patience with Zack's weird behavior running thin.

"Sorry, just. Two gifts! You know, I don't think some people would believe you're capable of it!" Zack babbled.

Cloud kept up his unimpressed stare. "Are you some people?" he asked flatly.

"No!" Zack was quick to protest. "I mean, I wasn't worried! Not for a second!"

Cloud frowned at Zack and Zack kept an uncomfortable looking smile plastered on his face until Cloud cracked and snapped out a "Just open them."

"Yes, sir!" Zack laughed, seeming happy to be out of the staring contest.

He ripped through the tissue paper with significantly less care than Cloud, but froze the second that the first gift was revealed. He removed the rest of the wrapping paper considerably slower. Once he was done, the headband sat white and crisp in his lap.

When Zack had stared down at the headband without expression for too long, Cloud jumped in to explain. "It's supposed to be from Gongaga," he said. "At least, the guy who sold it to me said it was. Both things are. But, uh, you would probably know better than me."

"Yeah," Zack croaked, clearing his throat before he continued. "Yeah, this looks exactly like the one my dad had," Zack said, turning a watery smile on Cloud.

Cloud had to look away, embarrassed. "Open the other one," he said, looking mostly at their laps as they sat side by side.

He watched Zack's hands as he ripped through the tissue paper of the second package considerably faster, the small talisman tumbling out in a matter of seconds.

Zack gave a pleased laugh as he picked it up. "Oh man!" he exclaimed. "This thing really takes me back!"

"Really?" Cloud asked, daring a look up at Zack's face. It was shining with good humor, tears still shining in his eyes, but the rest of his face was relaxed, grinning as wide and easy as he ever did.

"Yeah! I had one when I was a little kid! The elders make all kids wear them. They're supposed to protect from drowning," Zack explained. "They work too, I think," he said as he threw the leather cord around his neck, letting the talisman hang in the center of his chest.

"You think so?" Cloud asked, looking at the talisman curiously.

"Yeah. When I was like thirteen or so I was swimming in the ocean when an undertow started to pull me out. Luckily, I was able to float and conserve my energy until one of the fishermen saw me and hauled me in on their boat. I lost the talisman during all that and all the elders were like 'the gods have smiled on us and taken the talisman instead of this precious child!'" Zack recounted, using a deep grave voice for the elders.

Cloud snorted, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "Well, I'm glad it worked. What a bummer it would have been if you had died."

"What a bummer, indeed," Zack nodded in agreement, grinning at Cloud who grinned back. "Hey," Zack continued, his voice dropping into sincerity, "Thanks a lot for my presents. I really love them."

Cloud dropped his gaze for a moment before looking back up. "Yeah, same to you," he said. "You'll have to thank Aerith, too. She helped me go shopping."

Zack grinned wide at that. "Definitely! Glad to know she had both our backs on this one," he laughed.

"She always does," Cloud agreed.

"Hey, do you think we could both fit in the shower together?" Zack asked, getting up with a stretch, flashing a strip of his stomach between his t-shirt and his sweats.

"That last time we tried, you almost got a concussion," Cloud reminded him with a doubtful look.

"I'm not about to let that stop me," Zack replied, hands on his hips.

Cloud sighed as he stood up, as well. "Well, it is Yule. Maybe we'll have a Yule miracle and it will work out."

"That's the spirit!" Zack exclaimed before hauling Cloud by the elbow toward the tiny closet that served as their shower.

They didn't manage to both fit in the shower, at least not enough for anything fun to happen, but they did spend a pleasant afternoon together before going to seventh heaven for the large scale feast that acted as the main attraction for Yule.

When Cloud went to bed that night, he realized that he had just had the nicest Yule holiday that he had ever had. Things were still hard, but maybe that was an omen that things were looking up. Maybe, things would only get better from there on out. He could only hope.

#ff7 #clack #cloud/zack #fanfiction #domestic fluff #holidays #kittywrites

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maatryoshkaa · 3 years

Text

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 3 years

Text

Imagine seeing Ozai’s angels for the first time and being in awe

You’d joined the Avatar and his friends quite early on and had been with them ever since. They’d initially recruited you for protection as despite not being a bender you were a very skilled bodyguard and so you got roped into protecting the avatar. You usually took your job very seriously but sometimes things (or people) could distract you.

Meeting Number One: Ty lee

You’d all arrived at Omashu to see if King Bumi could be Aang’s earthbender teacher only to find the whole city had fallen to the fire nation. In your attempt to free all the citizens a fire nation baby had been separated from his parents and Aang arranged a trade. Bumi for the baby. You had your weapons within your grasp and were toying with them as you waited to see who you would be dealing with in this trade. You heard someone approaching and turned to see three beautiful women. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but this was certainly not it. The three walked up in formation and you just stared "wow". "What?" Sokka asked from beside you and you shrugged "nothing....just do you think all fire nation girls look like that?”. Sokka shrugged “I guess?”. “I really need to visit the fire nation then” you whistled and Sokka shook his head at you. Aang started talking and you eagerly watched hoping to find out more about this interesting trio. You soon found out the one on the right was a princess and the one in the middle was called Mai but the other one didn’t have a name yet. You thought they were all pretty cool and then when you saw them fight...you were speechless. The princess Azula went for Aang leaving you and Katara with Mai and the other girl. Katara called she’d deal with Mai and so you got the nameless pink lady. She sprang into action and you were very impressed at how quick and flexible she was. “Wow you’re amazing” you cried as she vaulted over you. The girl smiled slightly “thanks”. You blocked her attack but didn’t bother retaliating, you just wanted to see what she could do. She didn’t disappoint. Soon the girl gave you no other option but to react. You defended yourself keeping out of her way and soon found the pattern she fought in. Sensing the fight was rounding to a close you decided to find out more about her while you could. “So you got a name?” you asked. “Ty lee” she replied and you nodded “figures, pretty name for a pretty girl”. The girl smirked at you and you both jumped to hear Katara yell. Mai had successfully pinned her and was watching you two. “Ty lee what are you doing! Get her”. “I’m trying but she’s...interesting”. You smiled at the compliment and Mai sighed “fine i’ll do it”. You grinned as now both the girls fixed their attention on you before realising that was actually a bad thing. Mai raised her knives and you contemplated your life choices when suddenly Appa appeared and knocked them away from you. You rushed to free Katara and then hopped onto Appa’s back, leaving the trio of cool women behind you.

You managed to find Aang and escape but the trio had certainly left an impression. “Still want to move to the fire nation?” Sokka asked you and you nodded “without a doubt, they were the most interesting women i’ve ever seen!”. Katara turned at the pure excitement in your voice and raised an eyebrow “You’re not serious?”. In reply you just shrugged “hey don’t blame me! Angry powerful women are my weakness” you cried. Sokka nodded “that is true, remember in that fight against June? She was useless”. You smiled at the memory “she was so cool....” you stared off into space and the others all rolled their eyes. “Well be that as it may, you have to find a way to stay strong and ignore them, can you do that?” Katara asked. You nodded “yep, totally” but you weren’t sure.

Meeting Number Two: Azula

A few weeks later you’d recruited an earth bender to teach Aang and everything was going great...then a giant tank began chasing you. You were very fed up at the metal tank following you until it opened up and three women exited. “It’s Mai, Ty lee and Azula!” you cried and Katara looked at you “you know you could try to sound less excited when you say their names, they are trying to kill us”. You smirked “sorry?”. “Who?” Toph asked. “Mai, Ty lee and Azula” you grinned “okay so i’ll start with Ty lee, basically she’s this insanely beautiful acrobat who...”. “Maybe save this for later y/n” Sokka called and you nodded “yep good idea” and fled with the others.

The girls continued to pursue you and even you were losing your excitement at the idea. So when Aang decided to end it by confronting them you agreed. You accompanied Aang to an abandoned town to wait for them but they were taking a while. So, bored, you wandered onto the outskirts kicking rocks to pass the time.

You felt Azula before you saw her. You turned and locked eyes with the princess of the fire nation. “The princess Azula” you smiled “do I bow or is that too formal?”. “It wouldn’t hurt?” she shrugged before sending fire at your head. You dodged it with a laugh “not a talker huh?”. “Why would I waste my breath on the likes of you? A petty thief with no home or money, I do my research and you’re worthless”. Your smile didn’t even waver “awww you’re just saying that because we didn’t get to spend much time together last time...you’ll love me once you get to know me. Ty lee warmed up to me”. “I’m not like Ty lee” she replied and carried on attacking you. You had to agree, Azula was not like Ty lee, she was a lot rougher. Whilst Ty lee had been aiming to immobilise you Azula was aiming to seriously injure you at best. “Certainly not as friendly as Ty lee” you agreed “but that’s okay”. “Where is the avatar?” Azula called. “I’d rather talk about you” you replied “princess of the fire nation, that must be fun, it suits you”. “I know, now tell me where the avatar is or I will kill you” the princess retorted. “No you won’t, if you killed me then you’d never know where he is” you grinned. Azula groaned in frustration and threw a large wave of fire at you, knocking you over. She rushed after it and pinned you down on the floor “still not worried I’ll kill you?” she asked. You looked from the fire she’d conjured in her palm back to her face and smiled “damn those fire nation genes are good...I thought your brother was hot but you’re even better”. For just a second, Azula faltered and you used that second to break out of her grip. You threw Azula off you and scrambled up into a run. She was close behind you when you ran around the corner straight into a fight between Aang and Zuko. “Y/n where have you been?” Aang called while Zuko stared “Azula?”. “Brother” she replied. “Sorry Azula and I were spending some quality time together” you said loudly “but we’re here now”. Azula’s eye twitched and she attacked.

You and Aang only managed to get out of the encounter with the help of Sokka, Toph and Katara who all showed up to help. Then the tables turned and you had Azula outnumbered. You couldn’t believe the princess of the fire nation had been out-smarted but of course she hadn’t really. She used a distraction and then ran from the scene. You spotted her fleeing down a back street and smiled, the princess of the fire nation was immaculate and you expected nothing less.

Meeting Number Three: Mai

The next time you came into contact with Ozai’s angels was when they infiltrated Ba Sing Sei by dressing up as the Kyoshi warriors. Aang got a vision Katara was in danger and when you approached the earth king to tell him, the fake kyoshi warriors attack but something was familiar about them.

Toph took one of the warriors and you took the other. While you were sparring with your warrior you kept staring at her...something about the girl was very familiar, but you couldn’t place her. "You look really familiar...have we met before?" you asked. "Good eye" the girl grinned before she threw a knife at you. The minute you saw the knife it clicked and you grinned "you’re Mai the hot knife girl!" before realising you’d said that out loud "ow...". Mai raised an eyebrow and carried on attacking you. Mai was just as impressive as Azula and Ty lee but a lot cooler with a drier sense of humour. You admired her choice of weapon the most and found the way she fought with it strangely captivating, so much so you didn’t fight to immobilise her, honestly you didn’t even try as you just wanted to watch her. Toph had won her fight with Ty lee and rushed to help you, mistakenly figuring you were losing. Toph looked for an opening but as both your choices of fight were close combat she couldn’t attack without possibly hitting you. You and Mai dodged around one another but you knew this couldn’t last forever. "I’m sorry but i have to say it, you’re really good with knives" you grinned as you disarmed her. Mai glared "you literally just disarmed me". "Yeah but you’re seriously the closest a person has ever come to stabbing me!". Mai raised an eyebrow "i imagine a lot of people try to stab you?". You laughed in agreement and Toph and Sokka stared. "What are you doing y/n stop flirting and fight her!" Sokka yelled. "Ow right" you smirked getting back into a fighting stance when Azula appeared "this is over”. You dropped your hands as she held a flame to the earth king’s throat and Sokka and Toph followed suit. “Grab them” Azula called. Mai stepped to you as you were closest and grabbed your arms tightly twisting them behind your back. You blushed as she gripped you roughly and looked away. "Seriously y/n?" Sokka asked and Mai noticed rolling her eyes. "Shut up Sokka you’re embarrassing me" you spat when Mai chimed in “actually you’re doing that all on your own”. “Ow come on, you enjoyed that fight too admit it”. Mai paused and you grinned “knew it” and she yanked your arms tighter “quit talking and walk”. “Whatever you say Mai” you grinned and complied.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Mai in your cell and you shook your head in disbelief “they have to be the coolest trio that’s ever existed! Every single one of them is amazing”. Sokka sighed “y/n could you please try to not be in love with our captors?”. “I can’t help it!” you cried “Ty lee was sweet but powerful, Azula was deadly and impressive and Mai was cool and funny, they’re all knockouts”. “Well great how about we try and get their numbers on the way out?” Toph asked metal bending the door down and you grinned “I mean I wouldn’t say no”.

You, Sokka, Toph and the earth king escaped from your cells and looked for Bosco. You found him in the throne room with Mai and Ty lee and paused. Toph took out Ty lee with earth bending and you locked eyes on Mai. No matter your feelings you had to do this so you got into a fighting stance when Mai rolled her eyes. "Just take the bear" she said annoyed and you smirked "thanks Mai!". The earth king ran to Bosco and your group headed for the door but you paused looking at Ty lee trapped in such an uncomfortable position. “Will Ty lee be okay like that?” you asked and Mai nodded “i’ll get her out”. “Y/n” Sokka yelled and you nodded. “Well bye, hope you get out of that soon Ty lee and tell Azula I said goodbye, she gets jealous when I leave her out. Glad I got to finally meet you Mai” you smiled and with a wink you ran away. You heard Mai groan but Ty lee just giggled. “Bye y/n” you heard Ty lee call and the smile was still on your face when you caught up with the others. “Having fun?” Sokka asked and you nodded “I cannot wait until we see them again!”.

You successfully managed to get Katara and Aang out safely and you laid back on Appa contemplating everything. You knew you were on opposite sides but each of the girls was intriguing and redeemable, even Azula who had almost killed Aang was still only a daughter trying to prove herself to her abusive parents. You could sense there were so many layers to each of them and smiled as you leant back on your arms. Hopefully you’d seen them again soon and who knows...maybe when this was all over things could be different.

____

So this is basically my literal reaction to seeing Ozai’s angels for the first time. I remember watching them all fight and just fell helplessly in love with all 3 of them. Then I read the Kyoshi novels and realised I just have a thing for fire nation women (Rangi is amazing I love her so much and I’d write for her if she and Kyoshi weren’t the best couple ever, I can’t break them up even fictionally).

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

Note

hello love! i was wondering if you could write a fred x gryffindor reader in which she is in the same year as ron and he’s constantly flirting with her, so she gives him the same energy but inside she’s afraid he’s like that with everyone and that she might be just another one but the truth is that he’s hopelessly in love with her? maybe george can give him a push? maybe a fluffy ending? thank you so muchhh 🥰

smiling kisses // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: ok when i wrote this i had interpreted it as you wanting ron and the reader to be friends and now i’m rereading it and you didnt explicitly say that, so i hope you don’t mind that I made them friends lol! i love the flirty but clueless trope and fred is the perfect person for this. thanks for your request! i’m actually so proud of this and I hope you like it!!!!!

(4.2k)

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“I don’t see what the big deal is!” Ron said, rolling his eyes at Hermione.

“He’s your brother, certainly it must bother you,” she retorted, undeterred by his exasperated tone.

You bounded down the stairs, your hand grazing the wall as you turned to meet your friends. They looked at you, and Hermione’s face flushed red.

“Talking about me?” you teased, sliding onto the couch in between the two of them.

Ron smirked at Hermione, and her face grew redder.

“You were, weren’t you?” you said playfully, throwing your arms behind each of them, pulling them closer.

“Hermione was,” Ron mumbled, and Hermione reached across your lap and pinched Ron’s arm.

“Ouch!” he said, and before you could ask what they were saying about you, the topic of Hermione and Ron’s previous conversation sauntered through the portrait hole.

It only took Fred a second to find you, sandwiched between his brother and Hermione. He and George strolled over, leaning over the back of the couch and putting their faces close to yours. They were on either side of you, and Hermione squeezed out of your grasp and cringed away from them. Ron wrapped a long arm around George’s neck, pulling him over the couch and onto the floor in front of you.

“That was a mistake, Ickle Ronniekins,” George taunted, leaping from his spot on the ground. Ron’s smile faded and he scrambled to move off the couch, missing George’s grasp by an inch as he stumbled up the stairs.

“Ah, boys,” you exhaled, pretending to be awestruck. Hermione giggled from her spot in the corner of the couch, and Fred retracted his head from beside yours.

He walked to the front of the couch and took Ron’s spot, sitting close to you. Your thighs touched, and your school skirt had rose while sitting. Fred’s eyes drifted to the exposed skin, and he raked his gaze over you. You watched his eyes move, and when they met yours a smirk flirted on your lips and you rolled your eyes.

“Very charming, Fred,” you said, moving to pull your skirt down.

“Don’t cover up on my accord, darling,” he said, leaning back into the couch and spreading his arms across the length of the cushions.

“Really, Fred?” Hermione said from besides you, shifting uncomfortably and scowling.

“You look nice too, ‘Mione,” Fred gave her a charming smile and her scowl deepened.

“Don’t let him bother you, he’s all talk and no bite,” you said, turning towards Hermione and away from Fred.

He tugged at a piece of your hair, and you turned to face him again, an eyebrow quirked.

He had an evil smirk on his face, and his eyes were a little darker than usual.

“You think?” he asked, a flirtatious tone dripping from his tongue.

Hermione groaned loudly, fed up with the antics of teenaged boys. She stood and grabbed your hand, pulling you from the couch. Fred was disappointed to see you leave, but he enjoyed the view. You looked over your shoulder, and sent him a flirty wave, which only widened his smirk.

George had given up his chase after Ron’s dormitory door slammed shut in his face. He walked down the stairs in time to see Fred nearly drooling on the couch, watching you leave through the portrait hole with Hermione.

“You’re hopeless,” he said, sitting opposite of Fred on an armchair.

“Shut up,” Fred retorted, still staring dreamily at the portrait hole where you had been moments ago.

“When are you gonna tell her?”

“I tell her just about every day!” Fred said, turning to look at his brother.

“No, you flirt with her. There’s a difference,” George said, picking off a piece of lint from his sweater.

“How can she not know by now?” Fred sighed, sinking deeper into the couch and covering his face with his hands.

“You have to be upfront with her, tell her outright,” George proposed, beginning to twirl his wand between his fingers.

“Maybe,” Fred mumbled.

“It’s disgusting!” Hermione shouted for the twelfth time, her tone just as disapproving as the first.

“I’m sure he’s like that with everyone,” you reassured her, “and I don’t even mind it.”

“How can you not mind it?” she said, looking at you like you were out of your mind.

“I don’t know,” you twirled your fingers behind your back, “I think it’s a bit charming. He’s not always that unseemly, usually, it’s much tamer.”

“How often does he do that?” she asked, her tone softening a bit.

“I don’t know, most times I see him, I guess,” you admitted, smiling at the thought of it.

Hermione stopped walking suddenly like she was frozen in her spot. You turned to her, and her mouth was agape.

“You like him!” she shouted accusingly, pointing a shaky finger at you.

“Hermione!” you moved towards her, pushing her finger down.

Your eyes were wide at her accusation, and you felt your face become very warm.

“You do! You absolutely do!” she said again, her voice still too loud.

“Shut up!” you hushed her, pulling her to keep walking.

“Please tell me you don’t,” she pleaded, her face twisted like a child begging their parent for candy.

“Stop!” you hushed her again, wanting to forget about Fred.

“Just tell me, and I’ll drop it, swear,” she said, pulling you down an empty corridor.

“Fine! I like him, just a little,” you admitted, resting your forehead on your hand and looking at the floor.

“Why?” she asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“I don’t know! Why do you like Ron?” you retorted, and her eyes grew wide.

“I-” she started, stuttering through her words, “that’s not even relevant right now.”

“See? Not as simple as you thought,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall.

She did the same, standing next to you, and you both slid down the wall until you were sitting. The stone was cool against your back, and hard beneath your head.

“I suppose it makes sense,” she said finally, turning her head towards you.

“What?” you asked, meeting her eyes.

“Well you’re both always flirting with each other,” she said, recalling all the times she nearly gagged as Fred said something flirtatious to you.

“He flirts with everyone,” you said, sounding defeated, “that’s why I didn’t tell you. He doesn’t like me back.”

“He doesn’t flirt with me,” Hermione started, furrowing her brow, “and he doesn’t look at anyone else the way he looks at you.”

Her tone of disgust changed to the tone she had when she was trying to figure something out, looking at it like it was a puzzle.

“Logically, you have to admit that he may have feelings for you. I mean, who would do all that flirting just to want a friendship?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione. She sounded like she might be right, but she hadn’t accounted for something; Love and Fred do not follow the rules of logic.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Fred drawled, sliding into the bench next to you.

“Morning,” you said plainly.

You were a bit haunted by Hermione’s words. You had never thought in depth about yours and Fred’s relationship. He flirted with you, so you flirted back, simple. Now, the threat of real feelings loomed behind each of your words, and the pressure was too much.

“Sleep well?” he asked, leaning his shoulder into you as he scooped some eggs onto his plate.

“Yeah. You?” you kept your head buried in your newspaper, reading the moving advertisements over and over.

Fred looked at you curiously. You were never this dry with him, you always had something on the tip of your tongue. He was worried he went too far yesterday, maybe he had been too obvious. Did you not reciprocate his feelings after all?

“I slept wonderfully. Dreaming about you, of course,” he continued, sounding awfully proper and dragging out the syllables.

You felt your cheeks burn beneath the newspaper, and suddenly Fred’s long fingers were pushing the paper down so he could see you. You struggled to keep it up, but the thin paper eventually crumbled and you dropped it. You looked up at him, his smile widening when he saw your blush.

“Aww,” he said, moving to pinch your cheek endearingly.

He had only been able to pinch one before you swatted his hand away.

“Stop it,” you said, no infliction or seriousness in your voice.

“Can’t help it,” he said, balancing his cheek in his palm and staring at you.

You fought the shy smile rising on your lips and rolled your eyes at him. He was leaning closer to you, smiling. Just as he was inches away, peering into your eyes, you pulled the newspaper up to separate you two. Ron laughed evilly next to you, having watched the entire exchange.

Fred reached behind you and hit Ron upside the head. He cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened his tie, moving his attention to George who was sat across from him.

Fred caught his twin’s eyes and widened them as if to ask “did you just see that?”. George gave him a sympathetic nod, feeling some second-hand embarrassment for his brother.

Hermione pulled you away from Harry and Ron the second you left breakfast, and you wondered why she hadn’t tried out for beater with the grip she had.

“Ouch! Hell of a grip, ‘Mione!” you mumbled to her when you were out of the boy’s earshot.

“I wanted to talk to you, mind if we go the long way?” she asked, not waiting for your answer as she pulled you down a hallway with long rays of sunshine casting onto the floor.

“What’s up?” you said, finally being released.

“What was all that with Fred? It looked like he was going to kiss you for Merlin’s sake!” she waved her hands while she talked, nearly hitting your shoulder.

You ducked and widened your eyes at her evaluation of breakfast. Was Fred trying to kiss you? At 7 in the morning? That was his grand plan if he did like you?

“No he wasn’t!” you said with disbelief. It had come out more like a gasp than a protest, and Hermione’s eyes widened at your cluelessness.

“He was! And you put up the newspaper! It was horribly awkward, really,” Hermione rambled, ignoring your loud and embarrassed groan and the sound of your palm hitting your face.

“I thought he was just being annoying,” you mumbled, replaying the events in your mind, “I mean who kisses someone right before breakfast?”

“This is going to be difficult,” she said, seeming to be lost in thought.

“What is?”

“Getting you two together, of course,” Hermione said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

George was tired of Fred’s elongated sighs and downcast lips.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he reassured his brother for the millionth time.

“It was awful,” Fred groaned, hiding his face into the wall they were leaning against.

“She probably didn’t even realize, mate,” George said, but he knew he didn’t mean it. He had very little hope for his brother.

“She doesn’t fancy me, it’s confirmed,” Fred said miserably, trying to suppress the very real sadness he was feeling.

Fred moped around for the next few days, and it was starting to affect George. Fred never wanted to go to the common room in case you were there, and they locked themselves away in their dorm most afternoons.

George had to cheer his brother up, Lee was no replacement when it came to pranks. The idea had struck him one of the many afternoons he spent looking out the window by his bed, longing for Quidditch season. He had been thinking about how amazing it would be to be out on the pitch, beating Slytherin 100-0, when he was inspired. He sat from his spot on the windowsill and told his brother all about the genius plan.

The next morning, they had gotten to the Great Hall early, as they discussed. They had cast all the charms and were waiting to watch the results. The other tables slowly began to fill up, and the genius of George’s plan was that he knew Snape was calling a house meeting this morning. This meant that when all the Slytherins would come down for breakfast, everyone would already be there to watch the prank.

Even though his eyes were locked onto the Slytherin table, Fred did not miss you walking in with Ron. You and Ron usually slept late, and often missed breakfast if it weren’t for Hermione. Fred watched your eyes divert his own, instead, focusing very hard on what Ron was saying. His happiness faltered for a moment, until George elbowed him, bringing his attention to the herd of Slytherins walking in.

The first people to sit on the benches were promptly launched into the air, and one of them happened to be Draco Malfoy, which really was the icing on the cake in Fred’s opinion. More and more people began bouncing on the bench like it was made of a bouncy rubber (it was) and laughs filled the hall. The bench made a comedic wobbling sound as it bent and curved to each student falling onto it. Arms flailed and eyes widened.

Dumbledore’s icy eyes looked entertained for a moment before he waved his wand and all of the students were frozen in the air. He guided them to the ground safely and instructed them not the get back on the bench. The group of students in green ties scowled, immediately looking towards the Gryffindor table. The twins smiled and waved innocently, standing to the sound of wild applause. They couldn’t help it, they were willing to take the credit if it meant detention.

And it did mean detention. Snape had walked over so fast, that Fred and George felt a gust of air as the black cloak halted in front of them.

They were charged with polishing the hundreds of cauldrons in Snape’s room and had to take extra care to Snape’s personal large cauldron in the front of the room.

They had been doing this for a few days, their spirits yet to be broken. They were given a brush the size of a fingernail, though, so they weren’t making much progress.

Sneaking out past curfew wasn’t something you and Harry did often, but tonight you found yourselves doing it quite easily. You realized, while studying with Hermione, that you had left your Potions textbook at the girl's bathroom in the dungeons. You made Harry go with you to retrieve it because you were too scared to go on your own. He offered you the invisibility cloak and you gladly accepted, moving close to him as he slid it over you and you made your way to the dungeons.

You held your breath almost the entire time, and Harry had to remind you to keep your eyes open. He nearly yelped when you stepped on his foot for the fifth time.

“Sorry!” you whispered, giving him an apologetic look.

You eventually made it to the dungeons, slowly creeping down the stairs. You entered the hall and saw that the door to Snape’s classroom was open, some light coming from it. Harry looked at you and you shrugged.

You slid from under the cloak and slipped into the bathroom. You easily found your textbook and hurried to the door. When you opened it, you figured it might be stuck, because the door wouldn’t open. Harry might be playing a joke, you thought, so you chuckled and pushed harder. The door swung open, and you fell to the floor. When you got up, dusting your knees, you realized who you had knocked to the ground. Snape was a mess of black clothing, his greasy hair scattered across his face.

“Professor! I’m so sorry!” you began, still speaking in a hushed tone.

“I hadn’t realized you were out here, I thought the door was stuck!” you continued, watching him slowly get to his feet, a look of rage slowly overcoming his features.

“What are you doing out past curfew?” he snarled, dusting off his robes.

You looked around, and couldn’t find Harry. He must have put the invisibility cloak on. You couldn’t blame him, he definitely would have gotten the worst of it from Snape. You glanced behind Snape, towards his classroom. Two redheads were peeking out from the crack in the door. It was Fred and George. You remembered they had gotten detention for their prank a few days ago. Your cheeks became a deep red, out of fear and embarrassment.

“I was trying to study sir, but then I realized I had left my textbook down here. I had to get it, I have to finish the essay you assigned,” you said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

You heard a snicker from Snape’s classroom, undoubtedly from Fred, and Snape whirled around to face them.

“You two! You’re dismissed, back here tomorrow, same time,” Snape snarled, and when neither of them moved he raised his voice, “go!”

They walked off slowly, looking over their shoulders at you. You ducked your head down, trying to hide your face.

“You will be joining them for detention this week,” Snape snarled, peering down at you with disgust, “cleaning my cauldrons.”

You sighed, nodding your head. It was already Wednesday, so you supposed you’d only have to do it for two days.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled and rushed past him and up the stairs.

When you climbed the stairs, you put your hand over your heart, trying to slow it down. Coming to the final step, you were met with three too joyful faces.

“Rotten luck,” George said.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Harry said, only his head peeking out from the cloak.

“Professor! I’m so sorry!” Fred finished, imitating your voice and tumbling into George as you had tumbled into Snape.

You blushed, even more, feeling your entire face get red.

“Some help you are, Harry,” you said, shoving his invisible shoulder.

He stumbled back and gave you an apologetic smile. You and Harry walked a few paces in front of the twins, arguing over whose fault the whole thing was.

Fred watched you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He had so much he wanted to say to you, so much he wanted to finally confess, but it was stuck in his throat.

“Well, now you’re going to be stuck in a room with her,” George began, talking only so Fred could hear him, “maybe now you’ll tell her.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and maybe the sky will be red tomorrow.”

George huffed out a breath, tired of hearing his brother’s excuses. George was a big believer in saying how you felt, and he was sick of this little cat and mouse game you and Fred were playing.

The four of you slipped into the portrait hole, and you were upset to see it was just as crowded as when you left. Hermione and Ron were huddled over their Transfiguration homework, and she was talking animatedly to Ron about a vanishing spell she had read about.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Hermione said as you settled into the couch next to her.

“Just Professor Snape,” George teased from an armchair next to her.

“You got caught?” she said as if she was asking if they had also killed someone while they were out.

“Oh yeah, Snape caught her right as she fell on top of him!” Fred called from where he stood behind George.

Harry offered no help, sitting lamely on the floor by Ron’s feet. You hid your face behind Hermione, slumping into her.

“Are you alright?” she asked, trying to lift your head from her shoulder.

“It was so bad,” you said, cringing as you remembered it.

The twins laughed loudly, drawing the attention of anyone who was near them. Harry began to chuckle and Hermione hit his shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked, finally sitting you back upright

“Harry was supposed to keep watch!” you said, standing and pointing down at him accusingly.

“I was!”

“Then how did Snape end up right in front of the door?”

“He just walked there? What was I meant to do?”

“I don’t know! You could have given me a little knock so I didn’t bust the door down on him!”

You and Harry yelled at each other with no real aggression, and a smile flickered on your lips when you couldn’t suppress it anymore.

George jumped from his chair and pulled Fred to stand in front of everyone. George pretended to be pushing down a door, which made Fred become brooding and intimidating like Snape. He twisted his face into a scowl and hugged his arms around his waist as if he was holding shut a robe. George fell onto Fred, sending Fred to the ground. George stood, putting on an exaggerated innocent look and covering his pouting mouth with his hands.

“Professor!” he raised his voice to the highest octave it would go, “I am so sorry!”

“Detention!” Fred screamed, copying Snape’s signature drawl.

“Yes, sir,” George screeched, putting his hands in his face and pretending to cry.

“I did not cry!” you said, laughing.

“Oh, you didn’t? Could have sworn we heard some crying,” George said, wrapping a brotherly arm around your shoulder.

“You got detention?” Hermione asked, standing from her seat with a bewildered expression.

“Yeah, two days with these idiots,” you said, pointing a thumb at Fred and George.

You met Fred’s eyes, and his laughter soon faded to a look of admiration. You looked away from him, blushing.

“Oh, that’s awful!” Hermione said, falling back into the couch.

You moved from George’s arm and sat next to Hermione again, pulling your Potions textbook to your lap. You peaked at Hermione’s, trying to find the right page.

Harry and Ron were still laughing, and a smile ghosted your lips.

You managed to finish your Potions essay, and upon seeing Snape’s glare when you turned it in, you were not looking forward to detention.

You said goodbye to a disappointed Hermione, and giggling Ron and Harry, sulking down to the dungeons where you had to spend your evening.

“Here,” Snape handed you the smallest cleaning brush you had ever seen and shoved a filthy cauldron into your arms.

You sank into a stool and cradled the heavy thing in your hands, dipping the brush into a cleaning solution Snape gave you. He left the room with a sweep of his robes, and the thought of using magic to clean the cauldrons crossed your mind. You decided against it though, figuring Snape would just give you some other act of labor to do instead.

You waited for the twins to stumble in, they were already late. When they eventually showed up, according to your watch, 20 minutes late, there was only one of them. Fred’s tie hung undone around his neck, and his collar was unkempt.

“Hello, love,” he said, pulling up a stool across from you and moving a cauldron between his hands as if it weighed nothing.

“Hi, Fred,” you said, smiling politely at him, “where’s George?”

Fred sighed and put the brush to the cauldron.

“Prank backfired, he’s in the infirmary for warts,” Fred explained, gesturing to his face, where George presumably had the warts.

“Yuck,” your fast twisted with disgust, but a smile was still there.

Fred chuckled at your reaction and nodded.

“So it’s just us tonight,” Fred said, and insinuation on the tip of his tongue.

“Guess so,” you said, unbothered.

“Haven’t spoken in a while,” he said, looking up at you while you kept your eyes locked on the cauldron in your lap.

“Been busy?” you asked him, hoping he wasn’t going to mention the newspaper incident.

“Oh, this and that,” he said, abandoning the cauldron and resting his elbows on the table, “you?”

“This and that,” you replied, looking up to meet his eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, a smirk contrasting to the genuine tone of his words.

“That’s sweet, Freddie,” you replied, shocking yourself with the levelness of your voice.

“Freddie?” he repeated, undeterred.

“Freddie.”

“Only girlfriends have called me Freddie,” he said, smirking still.

You felt your face warm, “Oh the long list of girlfriends you’ve had? Who was there?” you paused, pretending to be in deep thought, “Angelina for a week or two?”

Fred chuckled, gazing at you.

“Future girlfriends too,” he said simply.

It took you a second to realize what he had meant, and when you did you were sure you were bright red. Your hand brushing the cauldron stopped. You tried to think of something to say, focusing on keeping a steady voice, but all you could think of was: “Shut up.”

Fred laughed, his shoulders shaking. He shook his head with something like amazement at you, grinning like a fool.

“Do you want to call me Freddie?” he said suddenly after it had been quiet for a while, his tone a little serious.

“What?” you squinted your eyes in confusion.

“Do you want to call me Freddie? Like a girlfriend would,” he said, and his face was stern. His eyes were locked onto yours.

“Do I want to be your girlfriend?” you repeated to him, your mouth open in shock.

“Do you?” he said, leaning over the table, closer to you.

“Fred,” you said, feeling dumbstruck. You didn’t know what to say, but a smile crept onto your face.

“Yeah,” you said finally, and his eyes widened.

“Really?” he said, smiling like a mad man.

“Really,” you repeated, nodding.

“Cool,” he said, still smiling widely and not knowing what to do with himself.

“Cool?” you laughed, putting the cauldron down.

Fred stood from his stool and pounded his fist into the air, celebrating.

You laughed, covering your face in your hands.

You felt him move to stand next to you, and you lifted your head, looking up at him. He gazed down at you, still smiling.

“Freddie,” you teased, dragging out the word.

His smile turned into a crooked grin. He pulled your face up to his, cupping your cheeks.

His dazed smile didn’t falter as he pressed his lips to yours, and you found it feeling quite awkward. His lips were pulled tight into a closed smile, and his eyes were wide open with glee as he kissed you. You pulled away, laughing and ducking your face into his chest. You felt his chest move with laughter, his arms snaking around you. His fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater until his long, nimble fingers ducked under it. He traced little swirls on the skin of your lower back, and you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“Call me Freddie again?” he said, and you could hear the smile on his face.

“I don’t know,” you trailed, pulling your face away from him and looking at him through your eyelashes, “you might enjoy it too much.”

He groaned teasingly, his head lulling back as he looked at the ceiling. When he met your gaze again, his smile softened into a plain face. He pulled you from your seat, stepping back an inch to give you just enough room to stand. You were still pressed against him, his arms wrapped around you.

His resting lips were much nicer to kiss, your faces met in just the right way. You thought the two of you may have melted together somehow, moving in perfect synch. One of his hands trailed up your back, tickling you ever so slightly and rested on the back of your neck. He pulled you closer there, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue in. It grazed your bottom lip, and you felt his eyebrows furrow against your face. He breathed in deeply, his hand on your neck moving to burrow itself in your hair. He grabbed a fistful of it and pulled you back gently. You struggled to open your eyes for a moment, and when you did you saw Fred grinning at you.

You leaned in close again, this time going to his ear. “Freddie,” you whispered.

He leaned back, as if in a fit of laughter, and pulled you into a tight hug. He groaned playfully again, and you laughed at the reaction you could cause.

You slid out of his grasp and back onto the stool. He pulled up the stool next to you and sat very close. Your knees touched, and he watched you dreamily as you began to scrub the cauldron again.

“Finally!” George said as he strolled into the classroom, wart free.

“All patched up?” you asked him, and Fred acted as if George wasn’t even there, still staring at you.

“Oh, yeah, easy fix,” George said, taking Fred’s previous seat across from you. He continued Fred’s cauldron, picking up the discarded brush.

“So you two finally got together?” George asked after some time had passed, glancing up at you while you cleaned.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, elbowing Fred as he leaned very close to your face, like he was memorizing every detail.

“Well, I think Fred is drooling,” George said, kicking his brother’s leg under the table.

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