#{i have more memories than if i were a thousand years old. - flashback!}

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo! 

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day. 

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort. 

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much.  Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock. 

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such. 

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile. 

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus. 

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear. 

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know. 

 But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn. 

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick. 

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.” 

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly. 

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!" 

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly. 

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both. 

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most. 

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind. 

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected. 

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process." 

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars. 

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.  

You hoped he did. 

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment. 

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest. 

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice. 

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role. 

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were. 

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more. 

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of. 

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart. 

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed. 

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same. 

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride. 

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet. 

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon. 

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it. 

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to. 

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him. 

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head. 

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight. 

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin. 

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised. 

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far. 

People were weird when it came to shit like that. 

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary. 

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket. 

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down." 

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?" 

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity. 

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants." 

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?” 

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as. 

It made your heart flutter inside your chest. 

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner. 

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar. 

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot. 

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake. 

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further. 

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric. 

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.” 

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara. 

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold. 

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?” 

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?” 

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.” 

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.” 

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity. 

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked. 

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely. 

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it. 

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.  

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on." 

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!" 

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough. 

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror. 

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain. 

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace. 

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours. 

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach. 

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party. 

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't. 

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it. 

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out. 

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!" 

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?" 

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?" 

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve." 

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting." 

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?" 

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning. 

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance. 

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself." 

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought. 

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know." 

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before." 

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like. 

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head. 

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both. 

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?" 

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?" 

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off. 

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude." 

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did. 

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides. 

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment. 

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!” 

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked. 

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it. 

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it. 

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced. 

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you. 

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight. 

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points. 

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you." 

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return. 

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—- 

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.  

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start. 

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude. 

 Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now. 

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either. 

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself -  an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations. 

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element. 

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress. 

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.” 

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.” 

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place. 

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to. 

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat. 

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety. 

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close. 

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily. 

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her. 

“Have you seen Jake around?” 

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?” 

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.” 

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh. 

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.” 

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit. 

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.” 

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.” 

“Ahm...”  

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it. 

“That,” you offered. 

 “I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight. 

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room. 

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another. 

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked. 

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin. 

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall. 

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little. 

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow. 

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his. 

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair. 

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view. 

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight. 

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered. 

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes. 

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you. 

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else. 

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe. 

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this. 

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet. 

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear. 

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

 How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights." 

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled. 

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.” 

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?” 

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier. 

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?” 

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.” 

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.” 

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.” 

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss. 

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.” 

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.” 

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it. 

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat? 

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be. 

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place. 

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right? 

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

 No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had. 

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple. 

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut. 

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do. 

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you. 

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place. 

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

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[fairysluna]

let the light in.

Modern!AU — Disaster was the word that described your past relationship with Aemond, but once you meet again after a year it's impossible for you not to come back to him.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING - Aemond Targaryen x Reader.

TAGS/TW - angst, slight fluff, cheating, love affairs, mentions of a toxic relationships. if something is missing let me know!

NOTE - this is not the best thing in the world at all, but I've been struggling to write and this came out of the blue and now I'm posting it bc why not. hope this will be the thing that finally ends my writer's block. On the other hand, I made a side blog ( @by-fairysluna ) exclusvely to repost my fics, so you can follow me there and activate the notifications🤍

WORD COUNT - 1.5k

He was sitting right under the dim light of a malfunctioning bulb inside the coffee shop that you both always went to. His long platinum hair, shiny as always, was falling graciously down his back as making a contrast against the black leather of the jacket you once gave him. You checked the time on your watch; quarter to three - you had fifteen minutes to regret this, to turn around and disappear from his life like you did a year ago. 

You knew this was a terrible idea. His mere presence was enough to make you fold like a piece of paper, to make you fall for him all over again. It was a vicious circle from which you could not escape. Though you knew you did not want to escape it either. 

The feeling in your gut was making you sweat as your hands were constantly trying to find comfort in the bag strap hanging from your shoulder, the memories of how things ended last time flooded your mind. You noticed how he was moving his leg up and down. Perhaps he was as anxious as you, perhaps he was just being impatient as usual; whatever the reason was, you could not help but to feel this invisible string pulling you towards him like a huge magnet. You tried to ignore it, to cut the string and ran away in the cowardly act of weakness, but your legs were not eager to respond to what your brain was commanding them to do, finding failure in an activity so easy as just walking. 

When you finally found the courage to escape what could become an awkward situation, a person walked right beside you and opened the door in front of you. The doorbell sounded, carrying all the attention of the clients towards you standing behind the crystal clear glass that did nothing to hide your presence from Aemond’s eye.

“Shit,” you murmured, keeping yourself together as you forced yourself to enter the place now that you have been busted by the same eye that you were trying to ignore. He immediately stood up; a moment so sudden that the coffee cups on the table were spilled on the white tablecloth beneath them. He did not seem to care enough to clean right away, he just gave it a quick glance before his attention was all over your slowly walk towards the table. 

He wrapped his arms around you as soon as he was close enough to do so, his face burying in your neck as if he was meeting with some old dear friend instead of the girl whose heart he broke. The awkwardness was not easy to hide as you doubted to return the gesture, trying so hard not to breathe in his scent, for you knew that would be your perdition.

“Is good to see you,” he said as a greeting as he pulled out from the hug and looked at your face with a soft smile that brought thousands of flashbacks to your mind. “Hope you don’t mind I ordered something for you,” he pointed at the table, two cups and two pieces of a strawberry pie. “Tea, two of sugar right?”

You knew you had no reason to get excited for the gesture and for the fact that he remembered how you liked your tea, but it was impossible for you to keep it together after such a sweet gesture. You almost sighed as you sat down.

“You remembered it,” you said, trying to hide your smile. 

“Of course,” he simply replied, as if that gesture was nothing more than an act of politeness. It killed you.

There was a silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but it left you with the feeling that something was missing. Perhaps you missed his voice; how softly it sounded whenever he mentioned your name, or those sweet words that would make you forget all about his bad temper. The kind of sweetness that he only reserved for you, the one that made you feel unique between his comforting arms. As if you were the only one in his heart.

“How you’ve been?” You asked, trying to break the ice, indulging a tedious small talk that neither of them was interested to have.

He went straight to the point.

“I’ve missed you terribly,” he murmured, a low and trembling whisper that could have been  easily mistaken as a cough. A slight shame was present on his voice as he confessed his heart’s wishes without even looking at your eyes. “I’ve been miserable without you.”

He seemed to be embarrassed about them, but it was impossible for you not to feel your heart beating fast as his words had taken you by surprise. You pressed your lips in a thin line, looking at his hand and feeling all your excitement fading away as the golden band was still wrapped around his finger just to prove that he still belonged to someone else. But, as your mind was screaming to look away and leave, your heart begged you to grab his hand and take him back. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied, covering his hand with yours, as if it was a desperate attempt to hide the truth of your relationship with him. “I hate trying to convince myself to hate you.”

A small smile was seen on his face, covering the guilt behind his eye. He knew this was wrong, he knew that putting you in this situation a second time was a death sentence after being witness to how things ended, but he couldn’t help it. No matter the consequences, he needed you back. He needed the sense of freedom only you could provide him. Call it selfishness, or greediness; you didn't even care as long as you gained his love again. 

Aemond finally glanced at you, and you felt like everything was worth it. The tears, the heartaches, the shame, the turmoils; you could endure all of it just to have a taste of his lips. Suddenly, all you could think of was the paradise in which he coaxed you, and all your doubts and fears left as soon as you felt your heart beat again because of him.

“I’m sorry for how things ended, you didn’t deserve any of that,” he apologized, the sincerity reflected in the way he spoke. His eye traced a path between your eyes and your lips.

“The past is past,” you said in an attempt to console his anguish, “and, to be honest, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“You brought the light into my life,” he confessed, and you felt your heart swollen with emotion. “And I didn’t know it until you left.”

A smile appeared on your face, enlightening the darkness of a rainy day, causing shivers down his back as his eyes shined with the glow of fondness. 

“I would hate to leave you in the dark,” you replied at his words, making the connection with his previous words, stealing a soft chuckle from those lips that you wished to kiss once more. “I can’t hate you, Aemond,” she confessed, “not when loving you feels so good.”

He sighed, “You still love me after everything?” His voice came out as insecure, as if it was hard for him to find truth in her words.

She thought about it for a second, trying to think about their bad times as if she was forcing herself to back up and avoid all the pain that she knew they would bring to each other, but all she could think of was those quiet evenings at her apartment. A soft Beatles’ tune playing in the background as they talked about their day while soft touches were felt in her bare skin. Heaven on Earth; their own version of oasis. 

“How couldn’t I?” She simply responded.

They knew their lowest points were hell, but they refused to think about them as they found each other’s touch again. They convinced themselves that it was worth it to try it again.

“Let me come in again, Aemond,” she whispered, leaning closer to him. “I know you need me as much as I do. I know you want me too.”

He pretended to hesitate, but he knew what his intentions were as soon as he sent you that text which brought you back to him. Your pleading eyes were all he needed to see to be completely convinced.

“I want you,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips, leaving a soft kiss in the back of it, smiling as he noticed the spark in your pretty eyes, clouded by devotion. 

That was all you needed to feel whole again. 

As the evening approached between gentle touches and soft kisses, you came to realize that the part of your heart that you thought was missing has returned to you in the shape of the man you hopelessly loved. The only one who could make you feel alive again.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #modern hotd #modern au #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen angst #hotd angst #hotd x y/n #hotd x you

[floareadeaur]

Hi! I'm a casual OnS fan so I got lost in the last few chapters... When is it mentioned that Crowley is the reincarnation of Ferid's brother?

Hello!

Chapter 134, titled "Reincarnation Rondo" which features in the first half the last discussion between Ferid and his older brother before the latter is killed and in the second, the discussion between Ferid and Crowley in the present, which ends with the death of Crowley, reveals this fact.

Basically, that flashback represents Ferid's memories. This is his face after the flashback ends.

This is his face when Ferid was thinking about those memories. He then asks Crowley how long they have known each other.

Ferid's questions are encrypted, but if you read, all the little lines like "I feel like we've been through a lot together", or that they have known each other for a thousand years (when in reality it is 800 years with this reincarnation as Crowley, who was a 13th century crusader ) clearly confirms that Crowley is the reincarnation of his brother.

In particular, you can notice a similarity between the panels portraying the killing of Crowley in his old life and in the present one. The difference is that now Crowley is at peace with the situation.

These two scenes literally mirror each other.

Also, if you re-read the novels covering Crowley's past, "The Story of the Vampire Michaela", you will come across some sequences that clearly indicate this.

Like, when Crowley the human reproaches Ferid that they have only known each other for a day (that was the reality), Ferid smiles sadly, really sadly. And the author emphasizes three times that those words of Crowley hurt Ferid.

Now the reality was that they had effectively known each other for just a day. And throughout the novel, Ferid laughs and grins like a devil. That comment about his genuine sadness at the idea that Crowley calls him a "stranger" and that they have only known each other for a day is very important. Basically, for Ferid, Crowley is not a stranger then, but the reincarnated soul of his brother.

I explained this in this analysis with quotes from the novels that you can also read:

• Here

Especially, in the flashback in chapter 134, Ferid, after killing his brother, looks to the sky, talking to his brother's soul and says:

" I hope you haven't gotten reborn yet. "

Then, in Crowley's past as a human, there is this passage in the novels:

“Say, Ferid-kun.”

“What is it, Crowley-kun?”

"Tell me since when did you target me?"

Ferid answered with surprising ease while being helped to put on the coat by the servant, "Since a little more than 150 years prior, I believe."

That was long before Crowley was even born into this world. Not even his parents were born at the time. It was the time when his great-grandparents were only children themselves. In other words, he had been marked by such a monster long before he was even brought into this world.

" Good grief, liked me for the face of my foot. I wasn't even born at the time."

Haha. I had fun imagining what kind of face my sibling would have."

Basically, Ferid directly tells Crowley that he waited 150 years for his birth and always imagined what face his sibling would have.

And if you watch their interaction closely, there is a huge similarity to that of Ferid and that brother in that flashback.

Basically everything gave spoilers for this information.

And beyond all that, Crowley and his old reincarnation are so similar. They have almost the same face, the physique is identical, some personality mannerisms and only the hair color differs.

Just look:

Finally, I attach here all my analysis on this topic.

1. One

2. Two

3. Three

4. Four

5. Five

6. Six

I hope my answer was useful and sorry if what I wrote is chaotic!

You can always come back with questions!

Thank you for your interest in my opinion and I wish you a good day/evening!

#ferid bathory #crowley eusford #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #sote #owari no seraph chapter 134 #seraph of the end chapter 134 #ferid bathory chapter 134 #ferid bathory character analysis

[manias-wordcount]

Great! So you are open for request!!

Um can I request a legend of zelda (botw one)

With Impa! x knight female reader (who's link's older sister) and in the battle of calamity impa thought that her s/o (they were dating) had died with the other champion because the reader were assigned to help mipha and thought the readed drowned but instead had a fairy friend to help to revive s/o from the gift the princess had given her.

So when link wakes up 100 yrs later the female night also wakes up with no memory and so when link and accidentally bumped into eachother to find the same location they run into impa who was absolutely stunned to see link and of course her lover alive and well.

But since the age gap the s/o just accepts the thought how they can never be together but tends to help around the village and help link to save hyrule...sorry if that's too long (the point I want it to be kinda angst seeing that they can never be in the same relationship so they both have to move on with their tragic ending.. if you want to add ib some flashbacks from the past with young impa and all that's fine just olease make it angst

A Different Time (Impa x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗮 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗵𝗲𝗲 :]

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

The way she holds your hand brings back terrifying feelings of love and happiness. And what makes it so terrifying is the fact that you know now they belong to a different time.

A much, much, much different time.

“When will you be setting out again?” Impa’s quiet voice does very little to break the still silence between the two of you, but it has you turning your eyes to look at her figure right beside you anyways. But no matter how many times you pray to goddesses you only know by name, the image of the woman everyone said you had fallen head over heels for does not sit in the old lady’s place. And she never will. “I heard the weather tomorrow will be dreary. Only the early morning will be spared by the rain.”

“Ah,” You hum, making a thoughtful sound at the newly presented information. “It depends if I could get Link to wake up on time. You know how he sleeps whenever we manage to score a real bed for the night. Though I suppose I’m not much better!”

You end your joking jab you and your brother with a light laugh. One that Impa shares with you, light and gentle. But once again, you’re haunted by this feeling of familiarity. That you had heard this sound thousands and thousands of times before. But you know you haven’t heard it as much as your heart tells you. Not the laugh that exists as it does now. A different one. One that belongs to a much, much, much different time.

A time you wish nothing more than to have the chance to go back to. 

It’s a constant desire. A burning one. And it comes out on nights like this. Nights where you and your brother visit Kakariko village to restock and regroup. In between restful periods of sleep on soft cots inside of warm inns, you and Link find yourself helping out around the village. Every you’re feeding animals, or tending to gardens, or fixing furniture, or fetching items. The Sheikah work you long, and they work you hard, but you don’t mind. You never do. They’ve shown you such kindness and such support throughout the early days of your journey. They’ve helped your brother navigate a land that feels oh-so foreign after 100 years of sleep. They’ve helped you find a reason to keep fighting. To keep protecting. They’ve even helped you and Link regain some of your memories. But in some ways, you wish they hadn’t even tried at all.

On nights like this, you climb up on the roof of Impa’s house. It used to take very little thought. Very little concentration. It seemed like something innate. Something that was almost second nature to you the first time you climbed her roof. You could pick out the strongest parts and avoid the weakest ones like it was nothing. You could do it all so with one hand as a torch occupied the other. And you could do it like magic.

 When you were just in training- years and years and years before knighthood- you remember just how skilled you were at climbing. Even though your memories are scarce, you like to imagine that there were some nights when you were young and didn’t have the weight of the world upon your shoulders, you would sneak out of your barracks and scale every single obstacle in your way just for a night out with your friends. You like to think Impa was one of those people you spent those nights with.

But everything changed when Impa caught you climbing her roof one night. You came apologetically- promising that you didn’t mean her any harm and that you won’t ever do it again. She asked you what you were doing up there, and so you told her the truth: you loved the view of the sky from her rooftop. You love how the moonlight hits it just right and how the stars seem to tinkle the best at that angle in this part of the kingdom. But most of all? You tell her how you know you must have missed the sky, and the moon and all its stars when you were trapped underground, sleeping for a hundred years.

So Impa asked you to take her with you the next time you climbed her roof. And when you asked her why, she said the answer was simple.

“Because I missed you too.”

Now, every time you climb her roof, you continue to do so with one hand. But this time, the torch sits in your mouth, clenched between your teeth as your other hand reaches behind you and secures the small, old lady on your back. You try not to think about the sudden flashbacks you get in the moments like this. Memories that try to bubble their way up your throat into your mind whenever you perform an action a little too close to the past. You try not to think about how you know you used to do this for Impa- the Impa you knew. But the one on your back is much smaller. Much lighter. 

She belongs to a much different time. It’s not one that you belong to too. Even so…

…it was still you who began to hold her hand every night after that.

It happens only when you both settled onto the roof and began to look up. You’ll breathe in the air of the night, and all it has to offer. You’ll hear the sounds of nature around you’ll drown yourself in their serenity. And then you’ll grab her hand. A light grip. A loose one even. As if you’re prepared to let her slip away. You’ve never once looked at her hands when you did this. Just like you never once looked at her face and hope for a reaction either. Just like she never once did the same. You just let her hand exist in yours.

And you try not to tell yourself that they’re still in the hands of the woman you fell in love with. The powerful girl in your snippets of memories. The beautiful woman that exists in your fleeting flashbacks. Because even if they do- even if it’s the exact person, the exact Impa, you fell in love with- it will never be the same. Because your Impa belonged to a much different time. A time that was robbed of you. A time that you long for. A time you should have cherished more.

And a time that you will never be able to return to. Never.

“Oh, yes… I remember quite a bit about you and your brother's sleeping habits when we were growing up.”

No matter how many times you sit underneath the moon and cry.

#impa #impa x reader #botw #botw x reader #breath of the wild #breath of the wild x reader #loz breath of the wild x reader #loz breath of the wild #tloz breath of the wild #tloz botw #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #breath of the wild fanfic #breath of the wild fanfiction #legend of zelda fanfic #legenda of zelda fanfiction #loz #loz x reader #loz fanfic #loz fanfiction #tloz x reader #tloz fanfic #tloz fanfiction #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

[i-need-of-a-hobby]

So we all know the theory that Gravity Falls, The Owl House and Amphibia take place in the same universe right?

its a pretty well know theory (even if you don't believe it) in all three fandoms but if you don't here's the gist of it:

so basically that theory is built off easter eggs, like willows dads having a book with Hop-Pops face on it

and references to the other shows like that entire Gravity Falls episode in Amphibia,

that imply that they’re taking place simultaneously, with gravity falls taking place in 2012 and TOH and amphibia taking place in 2019-2020 (without the covid the lucky bastards) with Camilla reading an article about a girl returning from a frog world in the season 2 finale of TOH

but that opens the door for a whole lot of inter-dimensional *shenanigans* and so many plot points i can and will argue reference and overlap with each other.

now theres the obvious similarities like how bills minions fit the description of beast demons from the owl house:

(ignore the circling its not my screenshot I found it on google)

and bill himself is on one of kings posters when he tries to teach Luz about demons:

Bill is also in the book that tells marcy about the calamity box:

a book I believe was written by ford since the cover says its by "Dr. P" (P-ines anyone?) and has eyes that look awfully familiar, which I think are a reference to either the cores eyes, the portal doors eye from toh, or Bills eye (and the fact that this eye symbol is so similar across shows feeds the theory that they're all in the same universe)

meaning the Bill is a semi-universal character/figure throughout the different realms

if the other realms (Bill's realm, the several Ford got trapped in, the Boiling Isles, and Amphibia) have access to each other, and Bill is as universal as he seems, he probably interacted with some citizens of those realms, and probably left a mark

now it's finally time for my personal take/add-in:

we never get an origin for the core 

or the newts relation to the core

we get an episode about Andrias's personal history and his individual relation to the core, and how he came to be the guy who manipulated and then stabbed a very vulnerable teenage girl, but it seems like the core has just been with the Leviathan lineage since at least before Andrias's dad (who's over a thousand years old since thats how old the flashback is)

so, what am I rambling about?

well, if bill, a dream demon, made his way to amphibia, the core might have been the newts attempt to artificially replicate his powers

NOW HEAR ME OUT: on top of being incredibly powerful once he’s released in gravity falls

he also has the power to go into other peoples minds and search their memories like he does to Stan in his very introduction

which is an awful lot like what the core tries to do, since Andrias says the core is the hive mind of a dozen of the greatest newt minds and when Darcy happens it has complete access to her memories

not to mention how when it talks to andrias what physically appears when it talks are it’s eyes, which is what changes on dipper and Blendin (time travel dude) when bill possess them

the amphibians (powered by the music box) were an incredibly advanced civilization capable of a lot of damage (as seen by the literal frobot army they created

so i don't think it would be crazy to say that when they (specifically the newts) saw what a being like Bill could do, they would try to replicate it.

Obviously, the core and Bills mind-jumping powers are not the same, which is a way I'd say the Amphibians failed: instead of popping in and out of peoples minds like Bill does, the core completely takes their minds, more like a parasite.

we don't know all the parameters since we know basically nothing about the other newts in the hive mind, other than that each mind shows up as an eye on the cores "head" before and after it possesses Marcy. and speaking of the girl, she has no control or consciousness (that we know of) while under the cores control.

but we do get one and a half-ish examples of people who are very aware of the cores presence in their mind (unlike Bill) but are physically controlling their own bodies (we think) (unlike Marcy) and those two are Andrias and his dad, who both communicate with the core more like it's just a very dangerous, intrusive thought.

so.... yeah...

idk how to end this but please reblog and tell me if you think im crazy or not-

#i swear im not insane #actually i cant make that promise #i need a hobby #hehe thats my username- #Bill Cipher #bill cipher being a bad bitch #gravity falls #gravity falls theory #the owl house #owl house theory #amphibia #amphibia theory #im bad at tags #gravity falls owl house amphibia all same universe theory #you might want to send help #my villain era is referencing different fandoms in a theory #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #luz noceda #amity blight #hunter toh #flapjack #toh #ford pines

[banditnate]

laying a soft pretty feather over a nasty mark on his body during a quiet, intimate little moment: “how did you get this scar?”  

Flashback time !

She was always so g e n t l e.

Even after all this time, her touch was still as soft as ever. Sometimes he wondered if it was a trick of his imagination; like a broken connection in his brain mistook it from a breeze. To be handled so delicately made him feel the need to squirm—something he didn’t understand. He could take a punch like a champ, but this? It was unexpected every single time.  

Nate turned his head, just barely making out the tip of a raised scar by his left shoulder blade. beneath a large pheasant feather.

“Oh, that?”

He’d never gotten a good look at it; most of the time he forgot it was there. Rainy days would sometimes bring a dull ache, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The thought alone made him feel stiff, and he gave his shoulder a rounded stretch for good measure.

“That’s old. A year, at least.” Maybe even more—it was hard to be sure of the time that passed here. Days and people came and went, fading into the next as they disappeared. The only concrete evidence he had of time passing at all was the baby fat that had vanished from Fiona’s face in his former life.

He could feel her hazel eyes boring into the scar on his shoulder, and he knew that brushed-off answer wouldn’t sate her curiosity. “Well…”

***

They called him Carnival.

Nate never knew his real name. In fact, he learned quickly that real names didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t have to go by the alias your parents came up for you when you were a baby. You could be whoever you wanted to be (though it was often Peter who would bestow the actual nickname as he saw fit).

With his large, jolly form and shaggy red hair, Carnival had seemed friendly at first. He didn’t mind showing him the ropes, how things worked, and Nate was grateful to be taken under someone’s wing. It seemed like he was really getting the hang of things.

That is, until their first game of Battle.

Peter had thought it would be fun to pair Nate up with his semi-mentor in head-to-head combat. Can’t let your emotions getting the best of you, he said. This was only a game--but out there, it was kill-or-be-killed, and there was only one way to prepare.

Nate, wanting to impress his savior, took the game of Battle seriously. Carnival, clearly a veteran with low expectations of the newbie, let down his guard. It was all too easy for Nate to strike.

It was only a flesh wound—a bloody nose and some bruises—but the boy clearly hadn’t liked losing, not to mention to someone so green.

He didn’t take offense that Carnival avoided him for the rest of the day. Losing was hard, and Battle was anybody’s game; Nate just got lucky.  

“You better watch out,” one of the other Boys told him after.

It wasn’t until nightfall that he learned what they had meant.

He awoke with a gasp. His left shoulder tingled, like a thousand needles poking him at once. He tried to turn around, but a firm hand pushed him down, keeping him flat on his stomach.

“What’s wrong?" Carnival sneered, digging the knife into his skin. "Not gonna fight back? But you’re so good at that.”

Nate tried to wiggle out of his grasp, letting out a groan as warm liquid slowly oozed down his back. He grasped frantically at the dirt beneath his fingernails. Was breathing always this hard? He wasn’t getting enough air. Air, air. He willed the oxygen from the grass into his lungs. Faster and faster he breathed, each inhale shallower than the last. “I---“  I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I--

A voice echoed in the distance: “Did I give you permission to kill him?”

He felt like he was underwater, or maybe it was everyone else who was drowning.

***

Things got fuzzy from there. After that, he just remembered the pain, and the heaviness--oh, so heavy. Even after Carnival disappeared, he never got over the weight in his chest that night.

He shook his head of the memory. It had been a long time since he thought about that.  

Not wanting to lie, but certainly not wanting to frighten her, he chose his words carefully.

“…I just got on somebody’s bad side.” He threw her a glance and a soft smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Something like that’ll never happen to you.”

question prompts

#( inbox. ) #fiona #luckyfiona #( about. ) #deep lore: ella gave me a list of like 30 different names when i was deciding on bandits nick name #sooo that means i can come up with 29 more npcs :) right? ......right.....?? #anyway ill probably be back to edit this 10 more times #thanks for the meme fella

[ghastlybin]

Will you do skz Hyunjin where he is immortal but the reader is not? Thank you 💙💙

You just don’t want me to be happy.

(I’m jk LMAOO) but thank you for the request :) this is my first skz request & they are my ult male group so I was excited for this but also like… This concept makes me sad because?? I couldn’t think up an ending where EVERYONE is happy like??? Anyways, ily & thank you again for requesting <3

Pairing: Immortal! Hyunjin & Mortal! (GN) Reader

Feat: Immortal! (social worker?) Felix.

Word count: 1.7k

Genre/contents: Immortal AU, angst, I literally don’t see how this could’ve had a happy ending I’m sorry, a bit dialogue heavy

TW: Immortality bc why would anyone want that?, Car accident, descriptions of accident related injuries, D e a t h, blood mentions, hospital mention, it’s depressing y’all and I will be open for any hugs if y’all need one

Note: I love Hyunjin and I’m sorry to Hyunjin stans and Hyunjin stans specifically. This is also not a soulmate AU don’t let the whole soulmate bit fool you, that’s just for extra sap okay I hope you like it and I’m so sorry but you’re the one that asked for it HHHHHH I also love Felix too btw obviously. Btw, I put colored dashes to hint at who is speaking in case anyone gets confused. Any dialogue without a dash is a flashback.

Orange - Felix

Blue - Hyunjin

— “Hello, Hyunjin.”

— “Hello… Felix.”

— “You’re one of the immortal few?”

— “Yep.”

— “How long have you been here on this planet?”

— “Sorry, does this really matter?”

— “No. Just asking out of curiosity.”

— “Three hundred and twenty-five thousand years.”

— “Wow. This year would be year nine hundred, and fifteen for me. Any tips for a newbie?”

— “Don’t fall in love.”

— “Oh.”

— “Otherwise, you’ll be in the same spot as me.”

— “Um… Hyunjin. Mind if I ask you questions while we wait?”

— “Sure. Why not?”

— “Tell me about your happiest moment.”

— “Can I talk about a person?”

You knew Hyunjin was immortal. You knew you would be the only one out of the two of you that grew old, the only one that would inevitably perish.

You knew Hyunjin would have to watch you as you died if he opted to. He’d have to watch you go through the pains of aging, the pains of losing your loved ones while he and his family of immortals had lived on, and not a care in the world because his family members met their soulmates.

Their soulmates were immortal.

Hyunjin was the unlucky one.

He fell for a mortal, someone who he always thought deserved a normal partner, someone who could grow old with you and neither of you would have to live with the fact that only one of you would continue to live.

He was unlucky by immortality standards, but with you, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

If he could, he’d meet you over and over again and not change a thing.

He would go back in time and relinquish his immortality just to live out his days with you.

You weren’t someone he’d meet, fall in love with, and just forget.

Your memory would live on, as long as he continued.

‘May your next lover be as great as me.’

‘And may the afterlife be as great as me.’

Your voice was probably his favorite thing about you if he had to choose.

He loved how it sounded when you said his name, asked him questions he had answered many times before, or even hummed to the melodies of your favorite songs.

‘Hyunjin! Hyunjin! Hyunjin!’

Like a broken record in his mind, for thousands of years, your voice was his favorite sound.

Yet he only had a short amount of time to experience it.

— “They sound nice.”

— “More than nice. Amazing. Lovely. Exquisite. Breathtaking. Astonishing. Incredible. Spectacular. I could go on.”

— “I could see it in the way you spoke of them.”

— “Ha. Yeah. I guess I got lost in the memories.”

— “How did you two meet?”

You watched the soft splash of water your coin made as you tossed it into the wishing fountain.

Another soft splash and you soon met the gaze of a very handsome boy, who was the former owner of the second coin tossed into the fountain.

‘Do you think my wish will come true?’

‘What did you wish for?’

Hyunjin wasn’t sure why he asked you that at first. He had completely skipped a proper greeting. A simple hello.

‘If I tell you, it won’t come true.’

‘Well, I wished to be immortal.’

He didn’t like where the conversation was going. He knew the pains of immortality. How every friend he had, mortal, had been long gone.

‘Guess your wish won’t come true now.’

And you laughed, thinking he was joking.

He laughed with you, thinking you were joking.

Even now, he thought you were joking about your wish. He wished you weren’t.

‘I’m Y/N.’

‘Hyunjin.’

— “So you met at a wishing fountain?”

— “Mhm. It was famous for the most wishes coming true.”

— “Do you wish they hadn’t told you their wish?”

— “…All the time. Is that selfish?”

— “No. It’s not selfish to want someone you loved to still be alive.”

— “But if that meant they had to watch their loved ones dying before them?”

— “That’s… Not my place to say. I’m sorry.”

— “Oh. Alright…”

— “What did this person look like?”

— “I have pictures but I can’t bring myself to look at any yet. Strange, isn’t it? It’s been eight thousand years and one day and I still haven’t looked at them… It still hurts but I’ll show you.”

Hyunjin took copious amounts of pictures of you and sometimes of the two of you.

Everywhere you went, he would take a candid photo of you. He had a collection of photos of you in your ‘worst’ state and a collection of you in your ‘best’.

Some depict you in front of a tree, a statue, a building, some off guard, somewhere you were completely aware he was taking a photo but didn’t react, and somewhere you were photogenic when he would pull out his camera.

He took a photo of your favorite things, things you were neutral about, and things you hated- Never in a way to spite you either, he just wanted to keep track of any details about you that might slip him later.

Hyunjin knew he would eventually lose you. Whether it be death or a breakup, he knew.

Still, he liked keeping tabs. He liked taking pictures. He liked- Loved, you.

You were special to him. The love of his everlasting life.

— “Wow, you really captured their liveliness in these pictures.”

— “I think this one has to be my favorite.”

You were smiling the brightest you had ever smiled for a picture Hyunjin decided to take.

It was a moment you were most happy and Hyunjin recalled the feeling of gratitude he felt to be able to experience that with you.

‘Hyunjin! Hyunjin! Hyunjin!’

— “I’m sorry…”

— “It’s okay to cry, you know. I won’t judge.”

— “Thank you…”

— “I can stop if you want me to.”

— “No. It’s okay. It’s nice to talk about it.”

— “So… What do you miss the most about them?”

— “Everything.”

— “But if you had to choose one.”

— “Do I have to?”

The truth was Hyunjin couldn’t pick anything, in particular, he missed about you because he just missed you.

Time didn’t change anything except the state of the world.

In Hyunjin’s mind, he was still stuck in the past eight thousand years ago took place.

During you.

His world had stopped long ago. The day after you.

He just missed you. Nothing more, nothing less.

And what he would give to have at least one more day with you.

— “Everything counts as one thing. It’s just a bunch of little things jumbled together into one… Big thing.”

There was this void in his heart from you.

It sucked in every returning feeling or memory of you and created a bigger hole as time went on.

Nothing would change how he felt for you.

— “How did you lose them?”

— “Death. The usual.”

— “Follow up: How did they die?”

— “It wasn’t old age or natural causes.”

There was not a single word anyone could say to you for you to have known what would’ve happened.

There was nothing Hyunjin could’ve done to have known either.

You were sick, you needed medicine.

Hyunjin was busy, and besides, you never told him he was sick. That was just a detail he found out after.

You made the choice to drive to the nearest pharmacy. You chose to not tell Hyunjin either.

To this day, he never once blamed you for what happened. No matter how many signs pointed to you or your decisions, you weren’t distracted.

You had a plan. Drive to the pharmacy, get medicine, and recover before you saw Hyunjin again.

You wouldn’t have known that at that exact moment, it would be you, the road, and a drunk driver.

Hyunjin was the first to arrive at the hospital. He filled out your information, identified you, and he saw you.

Hooked to various machines, intubated as your lungs had to have been ruptured in the crash. Every broken bone you had, every bruise the impact caused to your body, the blood.

The blood. More than Hyunjin had ever seen before in his time of immortality.

‘Well, I wished to be immortal.’

The bandage around your skull had bled through, giving the doctors a hard time trying to keep you alive.

The blood. It didn’t stop. It didn’t go away.

‘Guess your wish won’t come true now.’

Hyunjin remembered the slow breaking of his heart followed by the slow, painful numbing that followed as he watched various doctors trying to resuscitate you, the machines showing an unchanging flatline.

‘Hyunjin! Hyunjin! Hyunjin!’

He remembered not knowing what to do when the doctors called your time of death, unable to resuscitate you.

You lost a lot of blood, your lungs were ruptured- collapsed, your skull was fractured, your heart had given up entirely, the bleeding.

Too much blood.

— “Hyunjin, I’m so sorry.”

— “You, me, the doctors, the drunk driver, everyone who knows what happened. All of us are sorry, and it still doesn’t change anything.”

— “Will relinquishing your immortality change anything?”

— “No. But I will get to meet them again.”

Thousands of years later, after he had lost you, you were his only one.

He never met with anyone after you. If he did, it never went any further.

He saw you everywhere, in everything, and yet it was only glimpses and then you’d be gone completely and out of his grasp.

He saw you in your favorite things, and places, he saw your favorite color painting his world.

He saw you in the wishing fountain he met you at, and even if you weren’t actually there, he held your smile in his mind.

Heard your laughing.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Hyunjin. I hope your wish comes true.’

He stared at the fountain of coins sunken to the bottom.

— “I wished for mortality.”

Hyunjin couldn’t cry. He felt he had cried enough, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as he waited for his results to come back.

The person across from him, a nametag that read, ‘Felix‘, with a smiling face drawn beside it, was now preoccupied with the beeping from the printer as something had began to print.

Hyunjin was requesting his immortality be relinquished so he could live out his days as a mortal and eventually meet you again, whether you were waiting in the afterlife or already reincarnated and trying to find him again after eight thousand years apart.

The wait was excruciatingly long.

“Looks like the results are in,” Felix waited for the printer to finish printing the results page before he read it out loud, curing Hyunjin’s slight impatience.

“Your request to relinquish your immortality status has been…”

Hyunjin held his breath, waiting for Felix to finish. Another eternity passed between his words.

“Accepted.”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids hyunjin x reader #stray kids au #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids #skz

[septembersghost]

Would love to read your thoughts about the narrative within red that you mentioned in one of your previous posts… please tell us more! 🤍

okay so, this has existed in my head for nearly a decade! let me see if i can even explain it properly (i might have to dig up something i wrote a few years ago, but never shared on tumblr). 💖💖💖💖 this is focused on the central tracklist, State of Grace - Begin Again, because while i love and adore the bonus/vault tracks, those sixteen songs are what tell the story for me.

last year, when taylor announced red tv, she wrote:

"The heartbroken might go through thousands of micro-emotions a day trying to figure out how to get through it without picking up the phone to hear that old familiar voice. In the land of heartbreak, moments of strength, independence, and devil-may-care rebellion are intricately woven together with grief, paralyzing vulnerability and hopelessness. Imagining your future might always take you on a detour back to the past...Musically and lyrically, Red resembled a heartbroken person. It was all over the place, a fractured mosaic of feelings that somehow all fit together in the end. Happy, free, confused, lonely, devastated, euphoric, wild, and tortured by memories past."

and that struck the chord beautifully for me, because it's always how i've envisioned and understood the story of the album, and its rollercoaster of sounds and emotions.

we begin the story with the anthemic opener of State of Grace, which has almost a sense of wonderment and euphoria in experiencing the world, those drums like a heartbeat, and it sets up the thesis of the record - it's like a prologue. we fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds or fades in time. and I never saw you coming, and I'll never be the same. it also has this transcendent sort of faith in it - the heartbreak has already happened, but she's telling us what it's worth. this is a state of grace, this is the worthwhile fight. love is a ruthless game, unless you play it good and right. these are the hands of fate, you're my Achilles' heel. this is the golden age of something good, and right, and real.

then we dovetail into Red, and it's like a flashback and a flashforward, reflecting on what's happened as a whole, while also serving as a set up for the rest of the story to unfold. she's already compared this love to a cannonball, and now to driving down a dead end street, so we feel this overwhelming rush. faster than the wind, passionate as sin. she sets everything up for the ups and downs. losing him was blue...but loving him was red.

Treacherous is like a snapshot of the first part of their story. she's discovered this tenuous, dangerous, unstoppable force that she's fallen in love with, even knowing it's reckless. I can't decide if it's a choice getting swept away. I hear the sound of my own voice, asking you to stay. and all we are is skin and bone, trained to get along. forever going with the flow, but you're friction. she takes the risk, and when it ends up being as treacherous as expected, she berates herself for not knowing better, even though she saw his red flags, like i mentioned in the other post (I knew you were trouble...and I realize the blame is on me), and it sounds chaotic because she's struggling.

the worst of the heartbreak happens with the entirety of All Too Well, and i could write about ATW forever, but i think we all know its power! she's going over and over what happened, asserting her own memory (I was there, I remember it), while also being strong and insistent that he knew it too (you told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me...back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known...wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all, down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all...), and desperately trying to put together the pieces of what's happened (just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest...I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it). she knows what she felt, she knows it was real, and rare, and it was sacred to her.

how do you come away from that pain? be with friends and just try to forget it all (make fun of our exes). it's also important that 22 follows ATW because of what happened at her 21st birthday. it's supposed to be fun - so she reclaims that next year instead.

but the pull of that love is still there, still inescapable, still in her mind in the night. she has to stop herself from reaching out to him. we made quite a mess, babe. it's probably better off this way...and I just wanna tell you, it takes everything in me not to call you. and I wish I could run to you. and I hope you know that every time I don't, I almost do. she even uses it to foreshadow "never ever" - I bet it never, ever occurred to you that I can't say "hello" to you and risk another goodbye, until finally she realizes, no, this can never work, there's too much hurt for it to ever be okay (WANEGBT - then you come around again and say, "baby, I miss you, and I swear I'm gonna change, trust me." remember how that lasted for a day?).

then Stay Stay Stay is the daydream, where she's picturing what could be, if someone would stay, someone who would take her for all she is (you took the time to memorize me, my fears, my hopes and dreams, I just like hanging out with you all the time. all those times that you didn't leave, it's been occurring to me - I'd like to hang out with you for my whole life). it's like a transition from the climactic, powerful heartbreak into something else.

The Last Time is the final realization of why some things are too broken to be fixed (you wear your best apology, but I was there to watch you leave).

Holy Ground is a recognition of healing, and realizing that's possible. it's a joyful reminiscing of a whole other romance of the past, wistful with a tiny bit of new wishful thinking creeping in too, and she brings back in the love as spirituality theme that exists in State of Grace (and, as we now know, in ATW10). it's so important because it contains recovery. it was good never looking down, and right there where we stood, was holy ground...tonight I'm gonna dance for all that we've been through.

Sad Beautiful Tragic is also a reminiscence, but a much more regretful one, and one where they were both wrong at times (and time is taking its sweet time erasing you. and you've got your demons, and darling they all look like me). she's still trying to understand why something beautiful and magical could come with such agony, how to reconcile that. it's tied back to ATW (time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it), but this time she's trying to let go (for the life of us we can't get back). the reason those memories are being stirred up is because of the difficulty she's having in processing and putting away what happened in the story of ATW, but if she can celebrate one, and feel a sense of catharsis, maybe it's beginning to get better.

The Lucky One shifts to a new perspective, one much more on personal identity (though the difficulty of finding an honest love still comes up - and your lover in the foyer don't even know you), and how everything can seemingly be going right, everyone can tell you that you're pretty and lucky, but you can still feel betrayed and alone (and they tell you that you're lucky, but you're so confused, 'cause you don't feel pretty, you just feel used). the subject of the song took the money and your dignity and got the hell out, and she's thinking maybe that's the right choice, because the atmosphere has become oppressive, filled with hollow praise and memories of past love and the people who left.

then light streams back in, and everything changes, and she finds there's still room to fall in love again (so dust off your highest hopes) and every time she discovers it anew, there's a leap of faith in it (all I know is a newfound grace). she finds a way to believe and to dance again (Starlight has outside inspiration, but it's also a big moment of recovery on the record, dreaming impossible dreams.)

Begin Again closes the story with an exhale, a new beginning, something simple, and kind, and hopeful. there is a chance to heal, and there is a way to find yourself again, and to embrace your passion and happiness, and there will be someone who listens, and never mocks your dreams, and looks at you like a treasure. and even if that doesn't last, there's the hope someday it will. she's been through all this pain and tumult, and she learns to value herself again, and to open her heart and trust again. she's finally able to stop dragging herself back through the shattered glass of what was, to be in a new sparkling moment. for the first time what's past is past ...I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end. but on a Wednesday, in a cafe I watched it begin again.

it's always been almost like a book set to music for me, where every chapter represents these watercolor moments she's experienced, until she emerges on the other side, not unbroken, but still shining.

ultimately, then, the narrative loops right back to State of Grace as well, because it's a love story, and a healing journey, and a reflection on everything love is, and what we hope love can be. we grow and fall and mend, and we remake love anew over and over again, and it's always a little bit painful, and it's always a little bit brave, and we whisper a little prayer that maybe someday, someone will clasp our hand and cherish the whole of us.

"when the dust settled, it was something I’d never take back. Because there is something to be said for being young and needing someone so badly, you jump in head first without looking. And there’s something to be learned from waiting all day for a train that’s never coming. And there’s something to be proud of about moving on and realizing that real love shines golden like starlight, and doesn’t fade or spontaneously combust. Maybe I’ll write a whole album about that kind of love if I ever find it."

we learn to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts.

but this love is brave and wild.

and that, to me, is Red.

#this took me forever i hope it makes sense! it's definitely an aspect of why red is so so special and important to me #it's such a whole story in its ups and downs and its brokenness and its healing #taylor swift #red #tonight i'm gonna dance for all that we've been through #red tv #elenaferrante #letterbox #thank you for asking sweetheart! #*

[struggling-to-find-home]

You know, between the fog that is most of my childhood, there is one question that I always agonised about, and that is: throughout it all, how did I survive?

Because there was,,,, a lot to survive through, from my first death threat & proceeding phycological torment from my brother at age 5 to metal objects flying dangerously close to my head during abuser tantrums to family tragedies to chronic gaslighting to suicide attempts and episodes of physical violence in the later years.

I look back on it and there it lies, as clear as it can with my only memories being from trauma processing when triggers and flashbacks happen and those rare times when a memory decided to resurface all on it's own to go off of: the overbearing truth that I was abused since the time I was at least a toddler.

But there had to be something to keep the illusion going, the facade slowly cracking but not breaking, and it had to be there for a long, long time. And all I can do right now is wait out and try to piece together a puzzle with a thousand lost pieces. Which is all to say,

I unlocked a rare positive memory today - fragmented, but still.

It's something about movies - how my mother & brother wanted to drag me to some catastrophe film about an alien invasion and instead I convinced them to buy me a ticket to some animated mostly marketed towards girls movie.

It started 40 minutes after their's did, so for the first time in... A while, I was left alone (which was a rare occurrence), sitting on some couches, with nobody paying any attention to me.

I had a journal with me.

At that time I always had a journal with me, because my phone was ancient and your girl had to entertain herself with something. It had a lot of shitty ideas, and my (very unsuccessful and rare) attempts to learn how to draw, because for some reason being able to draw prettily was a beauty standard for the girls around me and my inability to do so led to,,,, a fair amount of comments and disgusted glances thrown my way (Ironically enough, now I draw much more than I used to, but for med school reasons. The drawings still suck, but for some reason, now it's much more socially acceptable. Probably because I embrace it. Though ppl who can draw well do get a bit of privileges™ in the anatomy class), and a lot of half-baked writing plots that usually went nowhere. One of them had a whole ass spread for my depressive thoughts which I put there when the trauma was a bit... Too much. I know that because I stumbled upon it before during one of the many cleanouts I did after being in extreme dissociation, every day, for 6 months. Honestly shit was terrifying to read but hey, it helped 12 year old me cope so ig it's fine.

I think I wrestled with myself about buying popcorn when they left, because my mother never allowed me to since it was too "unhealthy". I'm pretty sure I did, because I seem to remember the feeling of uncomfortable sugar-induced thirstiness at the back of my throat as we drived back from the theater, but I'm not sure. If I did, I probably spent the entire pre-film time on high alert, careful to hide it from passer-bys in case either of them decided to leave the theater.

I was bored, at first, with no way to tell time, but then I started thinking and doodling and at some point, inspiration struck - something about ocs and evil scientists and their horrible horrible experiments - and I spent the rest of the time creating, high on the euphoria of privacy, of not having to check my back every seven seconds to see if someone's watching.

I didn't even get to finish the scene, but I was still so proud for writing it.

It was so simple, but I was so happy.

I was so happy.

Because there were no abusers. Because, even for just half an hour, I was able to put my guard down and purely enjoy myself.

And it's like this for every positive memory I have - all of them happen when they are not in sight. Reading fanfiction at 2 am, feeling proud after composing my first guitar arrangement, jumping around the flat I was alone at in happiness because my favourite comic updated, learning to drive a hoverboard with my friend, feeling joyful because all of them left and now I could watch a show in peace, celebrating my birthday without them...

I guess that's the answer for me - the only reason I survived for so long are the times I could take a break from them.

Huh.

Well that's fucking depressing.

#struggling gets personal #new memory unlocked I guess✌🏻✌🏻 #personal #dysfunctional family #i feel emotionally drained after writing this but shit is important #fun fact: if you analyse this post closely you can see the memory become clearer as I start to describe it #it all comes back to the fact that the part of myself I consider ny personality is the same part that came out during such memories #which ties in like grief over a complete lack of support system and the fact that for most of my life I wasn't my own person #and I can never know whether some of my regrets and mistakes would happen if I acted from the person I was and not the one abuse made me #but all of this will have to wait until college #I'm not ready to process this shit while still in the abusive environment

[edgarbutnotallanpoe]

tag drop!

{never to suffer would never to have been blessed. - musing!} . {heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter. - inter!} . {a felicidade é uma arma quente. - pov!} . {the heart will break, but broken live on - visage!} . {few people have the imagination for reality. - relationships!} . {i have more memories than if i were a thousand years old. - flashback!} . {i was a child and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea. - dominique!} . {the soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone. - lorcan!} . {the great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain. - lucy!} . {virtue has a veil, vice a mask. - lysander!} . {the will to do, the soul to dare. - molly!}

#{never to suffer would never to have been blessed. - musing!} #{heard melodies are sweet but those unheard are sweeter. - inter!} #{a felicidade é uma arma quente. - pov!} #{the heart will break but broken live on - visage!} #{few people have the imagination for reality. - relationships!} #{i have more memories than if i were a thousand years old. - flashback!} #{i was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea. - dominique!} #{the soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone. - lorcan!} #{the great art of life is sensation to feel that we exist even in pain. - lucy!} #{virtue has a veil vice a mask. - lysander!} #{the will to do the soul to dare. - molly!}

[therealvinelle]

Hi, love your metas and your fic. I think you mentioned somwhere that at the end of BD Aro was trying to prevent the fight. What were his motives? According to Edward, the Volturi are cowards, but I didn't get this feeling. Caius was begging for a battle, the guard vocally proclaimed willingness to die for the cause... hell, Jane had to be restrained from running to Bella and punching her in the throat. And I find it unlikely that their leader is less brave than them. Explain Aro's brain pls

Thank you so much! That’s really nice of you to say. And sorry for the late answer.

And explain Aro’s brain, whew. That is a very big question with a very long answer and this post will be a manifesto by the time I’m done. But you wanted Aro’s brain explained so manifesto it is.

So, before we go anywhere I have to make the distinction between Aro of the books and Aro of the movies. Those two are different people.

Starting with appearance, because casting does a lot for me and if a big deviation is made it better be like Ruth Wilson as Marisa Coulter, which is to say it better fit the character. Also, disclaimer, I think most of Twilight was miscast, and especially the Volturi. I’m forever dying at Caius looking like Lucius Malfoy. However, this is an Aro post, so we’re highlighting Aro.

Aro of the books is a twenty-something Greek with skin that has petrified and eyes covered in a milky sort of film, which totals to him looking perfect, as all vampires do, yet frail. When he walks it looks like he’s gliding. This is an otherworldly, ancient, inhuman being. He’s energetic and excitable, yes, but if anything that should add to how very other he is. Casting Michael Sheen is a clear signal that the movies were going in a completely different direction with Aro. Sheen is a great actor who played what he was given perfectly, but what he was given was a very different character.

In New Moon the book, Aro first rejects Edward request because this is Carlisle’s gifted son, and more, this is not what the Volturi do. They are not hitmen. It’s just a big no all around.

Bella enters, and the Aro she meets is a very polite and gracious man who’s delighted to see the human still alive, and pleased Carlisle’s son won’t be suicidal anymore. However, Edward fully intended to step into the sunlight in the middle of Volterra, specifically to provoke the Volturi, and he has broken the law with Bella. Further, Edward makes it clear that he fully intends to walk out of Volterra with his human still human, and that she’ll die of old age if he gets his way. Edward’s contempt of the law could not be more clear. However, Alice shows Aro that Bella’s fate is sealed, she turns or she dies. The law will be upheld. Aro is glad to hear it, and lets the Cullens all go home.

All in all, it’s a very tense occasion where Edward has put Aro in a difficult position, because he’s trying to force him to kill his best friend’s son, and Aro goes “YES THANK GOD” when Alice finally gives him an out.

New Moon of the movies was not this. Starting with the flashback (because I’m being thorough), Aro executes a lowly criminal himself.  I object to that, I think that’s a menial task and Aro doing it himself made the Volturi look less regal, not more. Cut to the present day, Aro rejects Edward’s request because he doesn’t want to waste his gift. We get the whole meeting with Bella, and Aro… well I don’t know why he does any of the things he does. This guy never mentions his friendship to Carlisle, tries to kill our plucky heroes three times in the space of one minute (one, gives Felix the order to kill Bella, stopped by Edward. Two, moves to decapitate Edward, stopped by Bella. Three, he’s about to eat Bella, stopped by Alice), and when he lets them go it feels terribly convenient.

This was a guy written to be the villain of the series, and it showed.

Cut to Breaking Dawn part I’s ending scene, and while I love the song choice for the scene, and fully agree that Aro considers misspelling Carlisle’s name to be a capital offense, the scene itself… we are presented with a villainous, power-hungry megalomaniac who’s just waiting to strike against the Cullens.

We then get Breaking Dawn part II, and I haven’t seen that movie in years but I remember the fight scene well enough. Aro kills Carlisle with the biggest grin on his face, and gives the go-ahead to his Volturi to kill the surviving Cullens and their witnesses.

Contrast that with canon, where Aro’s first words to Carlisle are «Nothing would make me happier than preserving your life today». Now, he’s making it very clear that this meeting will most likely end with Carlisle’s death, but he’s not happy about it. He’s certainly not going to kill him with a smile on his face and laughter in his heart.

The movies needed a hammy villain, and that’s what Michael Sheen played. It is not who Aro is, at all. And he’s not the only character this happened to, but again, this is an Aro post so I’m not going to start raging like Don Corleone about what they did to my boys.

So, with the movies firmly expelled from the post, let’s look at the Twilight series from Aro’s point of view.

Or, rather, we’ll have to start earlier because Aro’s decisions throughout the series are pretty clearly motivated by Carlisle. And that means considering, “why is Carlisle so important, anyway?”

Consider these things: one, Aro is gifted with the power of knowing every single thought a person has ever had. He knows your soul. Two, Aro is the leader of the supernatural world, he has been for over a thousand years.

How many friends does a person with that power and in that position have?

Three, who does Aro even come into contact with?

Starting with number three, for Aro it’s going to be 1) criminals, 2) Volturi guard hopefuls, 3) Weirdos like Laurent who are wasting Aro’s time.

(“But what about the guard!” Well, while we observe close interpersonal relationships between Aro and Jane, and Aro and Renata, and one can assume Corin to be close to the wives, the distinction between Volturi coven and Volturi guard remains. The guards are servants, in some cases beloved servants, but servants nonetheless. It would be inappropriate and weird for Aro to start slumming it with Demetri and Felix)

So, Aro doesn’t get out much, which brings us to point two. The people he does meet, and who are willing to entertain a friendship with the Volturi leader, are going to be people who want something. And that might work for some rulers, Louis XIV built Versailles specifically to make his subjects do this for him, but he had something to gain politically from that. Aro does not, his power is supreme without a need to tolerate brown nosers. More, with his own and Marcus’ gifts, he’ll know right away that he’s being used for power. He would get nothing out of it.

Finally point one, Aro’s gift. Say that we have a vampire who’s not a weirdo and who thinks Aro’s a cool dude. Well, the question now is, who would ever want a person in their life who knows all there is to know about them? I wouldn't want anybody to know every thought I've ever had, I certainly would never seek out a person to know me that deeply when I could just go find normal people to be friends with instead. Not to mention how incredibly unequal such a friendship would be.

In short, I don’t think Aro has any friends.

Enter Carlisle a very amiable person who cherishes Aro for his personality, and doesn’t mind having his mind read. Aro just found a unicorn. Carlisle on his end likes Aro so much that he lives with him for decades. Even if you want to read their relationship as platonic, that’s still a very strong friendship.

Point being that Carlisle is unbelievably precious to Aro, and so very unique. Aro has lived for over three millennia, and never met anyone like this before. There won’t be another Carlisle.

This in turn makes him willing to stretch as far as he can to preserve that friendship and, as the plot thickens, keep Carlisle alive.

Fast forwards to 2006, and Aro is sitting in Volterra minding his own business when Carlisle’s son walks into town demanding his own execution. He has not committed any crimes. Not only is assisted suicide not something the Volturi even do, but this would ruin Aro’s friendship with Carlisle. Even if Carlisle was miraculously understanding of Aro killing his son (which I can’t imagine he would be), this would never leave the air between them. Carlisle could never be around him again after something like that.

So, Aro turns down Edward’s request. “Stupid Volturi man ruining my dramatic suicide, I’ll show him who’s boss!” Edward replies, and runs shirtless into the sunlight. I’m sure Aro was just dying, you had “The Sound of Silence” playing as he stared into nothingness because how is this happening to him. A whiplash of an hour later, Bella is alive again, Aro is happy, we can be done with this now, right? Right?!

No, Edward says, we cannot be done with this. He’s still refusing to turn Bella.

And so we get that whole New Moon exchange where Aro very tellingly shoves the part where Edward WALKED INTO THE SUNLIGHT IN VOLTERRA under the carpet and out of the conversation (for comparison: Irina is executed for false testimony and Bree for breaking a law she didn’t know existed), and he even allows Bella to leave human when he could easily have bitten her himself to keep the Cullens honest. This guy went out of his way to be lenient and show the Cullens good faith.

And then a few months later Irina walks into Volterra, bearing memories of what is unmistakably a Cullen immortal child.

Aro may care for Carlisle, but this is the guy who killed his baby sister so he’d still have Marcus’ gift. He will bend far, very far, for those he cares about, but he will not break. It’s duty above love, Volturi above Aro’s personal preferences. An immortal child is not an offense that can be tolerated, and so it’ll be Didyme 2: Aro Kills Someone He Loves Boogaloo.

By now I think it should be quite clear why I think Aro was trying to prevent the fight. Battle would have meant Carlisle’s certain death.

(And that’s even assuming the Volturi won the fight. With Bella there, there was a chance the Volturi wouldn’t prevail. But even before Bella started showing off, Aro was very much hoping this wouldn’t be another Didyme situation.)

#aro #volturi #carlisle cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #the sad thing is that i have so much more to say about Aro #this is only the first of many posts #Anonymous #ask #i guess i also have to tag #aro/carlisle #sorry guys my terrible ship is leaking into my metas #but damnit IT'S A GOOD SHIP #long post

[salsadips]

If You Love Him - Harry Styles

This is based on the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

This song breaks my heart every time I listen to it, and I just thought of this idea. It honestly made me so sad to write and I really got in my feels, so I’m sorry beforehand if it’s too sad, but I’m actually really proud of it so I hope you enjoy<3 (Olivia Wilde appears in this, and it’s in no way meant negatively towards her) 

Summary: you have a hard time living without Harry, and when you find out he’s seeing someone else it breaks your heart and you write a song to his new lover

Warnings: none, it’s just sad:’(

Not my gif, so creds to the owner

You sat in front of the piano, fingers brushing the keys, just barely touching them. You've been crying all day it felt like, and now you just felt numb. You were absolutely drained of all your energy and you felt like you could fall asleep on the spot, but every time you tried closing your eyes, old memories flooded your brain a thousand miles per hour and prevented sleep from taking you with it.

You missed him, fuck you missed him so much. It was so hard just breathing without him and it felt like climbing a mountain just getting through one day without Harry beside you. You barely slept, just the thought of waking up and not seeing him in bed next to you, was enough to start a waterfall of tears streaming down your face. Every day you were in physical pain too, your stomach was in knots, your head was pounding from all the crying and your body had gotten so used to just laying in bed that your muscles had started hurting too from lack of use.

Every day was a hell to go through, but today had been the worst without a doubt. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling you'd felt when you’d checked Twitter that morning and saw rumors that Harry had found someone new. It had been all over the internet after a picture had been caught of him and someone else from the night before. Even though your brain had begged you to stop looking at the pictures and just turn off your phone, you'd spent the entire morning reading articles and fan theories. Eventually, it had hurt more than you could bear and you'd put down your phone and spent the rest of the day soaking your pillow from your unstoppable fountain of tears.

Now it was some time in the middle of the night, maybe around 3 a.m? You honestly didn't know. You hadn't touched your phone since you'd tossed it away earlier and you hadn't moved from your bed until an hour ago when you'd made your way to the piano in your living room.

One time what felt like an eternity ago, Harry had found you absolutely devasted after you thought a heavy argument with one of your close friends had led to the end of your friendship, and he'd told you: "some times emotions are easier to feel if you express them through music" and he'd made you sit down on the same piano bench you were sitting on now, listening while you wrote a song about every emotion that you'd felt. You remembered how he'd been right, that the feelings had actually been more bearable after you'd sang the words. Maybe it would work that way this time too? Honestly, at this point, you were willing to try anything to minimize the painful aching in your chest.

You'd just been staring at the piano in front of you for the last hour though, no words coming to mind that could express exactly what you were feeling. You kept thinking of Harry with this new person: was he with her right now, lying next to her in bed? Were they cuddling? Did he pull her tight to his chest while his head rested atop of hers as he'd always done with you? Were they having deep pillow talks till far into the night, like the two of you used to? Did he touch her the way he'd touched you? Did her entire body ignite whenever he kissed her, as yours had always done?

You knew who she was, Olivia Wilde, the director of the movie Harry had worked so hard on the last couple of months. You remembered the day he'd come home, so excited that he'd gotten the role in the movie, and you'd been equally as excited for him and so fucking proud. Not once had you imagined that you'd be sitting here now, while Harry was starting a new relationship with her. Was she treating him right? You fucking hoped so. Even though you wanted to hate her with your entire being, you couldn't seem to be mad at her. Maybe she was giving him what you couldn't, maybe he was happier with her. God, he deserved to be so happy.

Suddenly a thought formed in your head and the fingers that had only been lightly touching the piano keys now pressed down to make the instrument play out a soft melody.

Take it If he gives you his heart Don't you break it

Your voice was weak as it escaped from your lips. You hadn't spoken to a lot of people the past couple of weeks, having barely used your voice and you couldn't even remember the last time you'd been singing. Losing Harry had made you shy away from your passion for music and writing, too many memories.

Let your arms be a place He feels safe in He's the best thing that you'll ever have

You kept going as the words formed in your head, directing the song to Harry's new lover. Even though it brought you so much pain to see Harry with someone else, you were willing to let him go if she was for him what he needed. All you wanted was for him to be happy and complete, you wanted him to have the world and you'd never been able to give him that.

Memories started appearing in your head like flashbacks behind your closed eyelids. Memories that you and Harry had shared, memories that made you smile slightly even though it shattered your heart to know that you would never share moments like them with him again. While being with Harry, you were the happiest you'd ever been and maybe you were never gonna feel that again, but it was okay as long as he was happy.

He always has trouble Falling asleep And he likes to cuddle While under the sheets

You'd spent many long nights next to Harry in bed, running your fingers through his hair and speaking softly to help him find sleep when it had been so hard for him. He'd always told you how there was no feeling that could compare to being curled up to you in bed, holding you so close to him that you could hear his heartbeat. The most peaceful moments you'd ever experienced with him were these intimate moments where you never wanted to move out of his embrace, praying that you could just stay in his arms forever.

Reality hit you now, that those moments were long gone, but you just wished with all your heart that she would hug him just the way he loved it and that she would be there for him during those sleepless nights he had when adrenaline wouldn't stop running through his body after working too much, or whenever a storm of thoughts in his head was keeping him awake.

He loves Pop songs And dancing, and bad trash TV

Harry's taste in music had always been something else. It was so wide, almost every genre of music was presented on his playlist, but you remembered you'd been surprised when you found all the cliche pop songs on there. You knew, of course, that Harry had spent five years in a boyband, singing pop songs, but to you, he just hadn't seemed like the type to listen to Ariana Grande and Katy Perry, but you'd been so wrong.

You couldn't count how many romcoms and shitty reality shows you'd watched with Harry during your time together. He'd always found them very enjoyable, and you would be lying if you didn't enjoy the times you'd been cuddled up to him on the couch while watching Love Island and discussing all the people you voted for and all the people you absolutely couldn't stand with each other.

He loves love notes and babies And likes giving gifts

A single tear escaped your eye and ran down your cheeks at the thought of all the love notes Harry had given you in the past. After you'd started dating, you'd worn his clothes so much, just because it smelled like him. His hoddies, shirts, sweatpants, jackets, you'd stolen it all from him, you're excuse being that it was more comfortable than your own clothes. Harry had never minded though, in fact, he'd always loved to see you walk into the kitchen in his shirt in the mornings or walk out of the house in a pair of his sweatpants paired with something like a white tank top.

At some point, he started putting little notes in the pockets of his hoddies or pants, knowing you'd put the items on the next day and find the sweet notes he hid. It was just small things like I love you or have a great day, love or excited to see you tonight, but they had always melted your heart, making you love him just that more.

Has a hard time accepting A good compliment

Harry had always showered you with compliments, every chance he got, always making you smile. You'd always made sure to tell Harry what an amazing person he was and how talented he was, how beautiful his music was and how absolutely gorgeous he looked, and every single time a sweet comment like that had left your mouth, Harry had blushed slightly while looking down at his feet. He would start making excuses, saying that it was nothing special every time you were amazed by a new song he'd written, and telling you he didn't know what you were talking about every time you'd told him how good he looked.

Knowing that he'd never been good at receiving compliments, you'd made sure to attack him with them all the time, and even though he never admitted it, you knew he thought about your words with a lot of consideration, eventually, you hoped, he started believing them.

You just wanted her to keep telling him those sweet things every day because he needed to hear them.

He loves his whole family And all of his friends

You thought of Harry's family and how he'd been so proud when he'd introduced you to them for the first time. He always put his family above everyone and though he didn't see them as much as he wanted to, he made sure that they never questioned how much they meant to him.

You'd admired the relationship he had with his family, especially his mother and sister, you could just tell how much he adored them. You'd never really had a home with that kind of love. You were an only child, so no siblings, and your mother had passed away while you were still young, leading your father into years of alcoholism and depression.

You'd never felt safe and loved until you met Harry, he was your family. That was probably the hardest part for you to let go of, the feeling of safety you'd had whenever you were wrapped in his arms or from simply being in the same room as him.

He was such a giving person, never asking for much. He had a lot of friends and they all adored him, how could they not? He had this ability to make you feel so special and he was such a good listener too, giving you all his attention whenever you told him something, not letting anything distract him.

So if you're the one he lets in Take it If he gives you his heart Don't you break it Let your arms be a place He feels safe in He's the best thing that you'll ever have He'll love you If you love him

You sang, and god, the words hurt. It felt like your chest was being pried open and your heart ripped out and shredded into pieces. You had to mov eon though, for your own good. You never wanted to forget Harry, he would always have a piece of you, but this grieve that you were feeling had to decrease, you could barely live a life when it hurt so bad.

If Olivia was the one for Harry, then so be it, if she made him happy you couldn't argue. Obviously you hadn't made him as happy as he'd made you, but you hadn't realized that until he'd walked out the door and it was too late. He had let go of you and now it was time for you to do the same, you just wanted, no needed her to treat him right.

On days when It feels like the whole World might cave in Stand side by side And you'll make it He's the best thing that you'll ever have He'll love you If you love him like that

You always thought that Harry and you could get through anything, and your relationship had been put to a lot of tests throughout your time together but never had you thought that one of these obstacles would actually get the better of you.

You remembered that day so clearly. The day your whole world fell apart slowly with every step Harry took towards your front door, and it all crashed down on you when he sat down in his car and drove away without even one last glance in your direction. You hadn't talked to him after that, but still, he remained the single thing on your mind 24/7. It hurt you how quickly he had moved on, but you couldn't be mad because you felt at blame for your relationship ending in the first place.

Harry had always said that as long as you stood together, then absolutely nothing could come in the way of you two, and the only time you hadn't been side by side, that's when you fell apart. You'd always appreciated him so much, sometimes you'd thought it was impossible to care so much for another human as you cared about Harry.

Your hands started shaking a bit and you could feel the tears slowly appearing in the corner of your eyes. You would never stop caring about Harry, he had such an impact on your life, what were you supposed to do without him? God, would this pain ever stop? As you started the second verse, the tears escaped your eyes and silently ran down your cheeks.

Kiss him with passion As much as you can

You missed kissing Harry. Just his touch had been such an essential part of your day and now that you didn't get to feel that, you needed it more than anything. When you thought of it, it was as if you could still feel his lips on yours, kissing you softly.

You'd kissed a number of guys before you met Harry and you'd thought all of them had been fairly good, but that was until you kissed Harry. You'd shared your first kiss one day while you'd been chilling at Harry's and he just couldn't stop himself as you'd stood in his kitchen and looked so beautiful. You knew Harry had experience, but you remember being completely taken aback by how comfortable the kiss was. It wasn't too wet, but not entirely without his tongue roaming your mouth either. He'd grabbed your waist while your arms snaked their way around his neck, and he'd tasted good after the smoothies he'd made for the two of you earlier that day. You hadn't been able to get enough and he had seemed to have the same problem because you'd barely taken your hands off each other for the rest of the night.

Harry was a very affectionate person and he’d loved holding you, kissing you, just touching you in general. It had made you feel so loved and now where that feeling had belonged in your chest, was just emptiness. You were certain no one could ever make you feel the way Harry had, he could make your entire body feel like it was on fire just by holding your hand.

Run your hands through his hair Whenever he's sad

It wasn't often Harry had been sad in front of you, let alone cried, but it had happened a couple of times, and many times he'd come home and you'd been able to see that something was wrong, but he would deny it. It wasn't because he’d been embarrassed to be sad in front of you, but he’d often pushed it away because he didn't want to burden you. You knew him well though and you could tell the second he would walk in the door, that something was wrong. If he didn't want to talk about it, mostly you'd just put a romcom on the television and pulled him into your arms while you'd cuddled on the sofa, gently running your fingers through his soft curls. You would do anything to brush your fingers through his hair right now...

And when he doesn't notice How amazing he is Tell him over and over

So he never forgets

On the outside, Harry had always made a great effort to appear confident and independent, but when you'd managed to get to know him behind that exterior, you'd discovered that he had a bunch of his own insecurities. He always questioned if his music was good enough, if his performances were good enough, if he was a good idol, if he deserved everything he had, if he was good enough.

Once you'd found out he felt this way a lot of the time, you'd always made sure to tell him how absolutely extraordinary you thought he was. You hoped that she would tell him too, help him build a better image of himself in his head.

You managed to get through the chorus again before your feelings became too overwhelming and you had to stop. Your fingers halted on the piano while your tears had become slightly more uncontrollable.

You couldn't help but think that you were pathetic for sitting here when Harry had clearly moved on with someone else. You'd realized how much your joy had depended on him, but you had to be able to live a life without him. How could you move on when Harry had completed you though?

It was cliche, but you felt like you were missing a part of you and without Harry, you would never be able to get it back. It was like he'd been too good for you, so he had been taken away from you. You had always known you didn't deserve him, but you'd tried your very hardest to be worthy of his love, but you weren't and now someone was making you pay for those years where you'd been granted his affection without actually deserving it.

What were you supposed to do? How the fuck were you supposed to live a life when your source of happiness had been taken away from you?

With tears still in your eyes and your body shaking, you removed yourself from the piano and went back to bed, hoping that maybe tomorrow would be the day he would come knocking at your door, because moving on from him clearly wasn’t an option...

——————————————————————————

A/n: I've got a bunch of requests that's been sitting in my inbox for so long and I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to them. A bunch of them are with JJ and I just haven't been in the mood to write for him lately, I've just kinda been diving deeper and deeper into my Harry obsession (when am I not), but I'll get around to them at some point. Again I'm really sorry, school is just really stressing me out too, so I haven't been writing much at all, please don't stop requesting though<3

#Harry Styles #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #louis x harry #fine line #watermelon sugar #Golden #adore you #louis tomilson #louis tomlinson x reader #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction x reader #Niall Horan #niall horan x reader #liam payne #liam payne x reader #Zayn Mailk #solo zayn #zayn x reader #Zayn #zayn icarus falls #four #midnight memories #up all night #made in the am #take me home

[derekmorganscrocs]

Pictures: Ace x Reader

Pairing: Drew!Reader x Ace (Nancy Drew CW)

Word Count: 7, 632 words

Request for @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Summary: When Carson asks reader for an old photo, her and Ace go through their photos and reminisce on their years of memories. From how they met, to their first kiss, to when they moved in together, the pair enjoy remembering their past and talk about the future.

Notes: Reader is Nancy’s older sister and a nurse student. None of the timelines really add up, so just don’t think about that too much lol. This is my first request, so I hope I did alright! It took so long and I got majorly carried away (7k words whoop whoop!), but I’m so happy with it and I hope you enjoy!! Flashbacks are in italics!

You walk into the apartment you and Ace share, throwing your keys onto the little table in the entryway and placing your bag on the ground. It’s been a long day, and you really just want to see your boyfriend. A smile appears on your face as you breathe in the smell of your favourite dinner cooking and savour the sound of Ace humming along to some Bon Jovi song he and his dad listened to when Ace was a little kid.

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you make your way into the kitchen. Ace must not have heard you come in, because he jumps when you wrap your arms around his waist. He realizes it’s you by the old bracelet on your wrist, an old woven strip of leather that his dad gave you the  Christmas after you guys got together. It’s one of your most prized possessions. He turns, staying in your grip, and smiles down at you. 

“Hey,” he says softly, lifting your chin with his finger. Ace leans in and plants a sweet kiss against your lips. You smile into the kiss, and when he pulls away you lean your head against his chest. He wraps his arms snugly around your shoulders, and you melt into his embrace. 

“Today was like a thousand years long,” you groan, your voice muffled by his chest. “And its only like six o’clock!” Your comment makes him let out a small laugh and the sound makes you smile. It’s been all of a minute, and Ace is already turning your day around. Though that’s been his specialty for a long time. 

“Well, once we eat I thought we could go through old polaroids. Mr. D wants a copy of the one from Halloween two years ago.” Ace glances down at you, but you keep your face smushed against him. 

“Sounds great.” The sound is still muffled, but he can hear that you’re more than happy with the idea. He laughs slightly, he’s always found your exhausted antics funny. You tilt your face slightly, glancing at the food on the stove. 

Ace follows your gaze, reaching to stir the pasta so it won’t burn to the pot. Your eyes catch on his arm. The way he’s stretching is really just defining every single muscle. He’s concentrated on the food, trying to focus enough that he won’t mess up using a single hand. When he’s really focused, he bites his lip slightly, and he’s really focused right now. And if you weren’t so tired, oh boy-

“Hey, it’s done!” He’s still clueless. You’ve been dating for six years and sometimes he still doesn’t notice the way you just stare blankly for a minute, imagining his hands roaming your body or his lips pressed against yours as he- “Let’s eat on the couch, we can start looking at pictures now.”

“Okay.” You finally move out of his grip, feeling a lot less warm and fuzzy without his arm around you. “Hey, do we have a printed version of the one Nancy took the day we met?”

“I think so, they’re sorted by date, right?” 

“Yes. I still love your mom for that, by the way.” You grin at him, turning and heading toward the couch. He chuckles before following, and the two of you sit and eat, flipping through an album first. 

The album is older pictures, from before you met, but it’s so fun to look through. Little BoyScout Ace is such an adorable image, it never fails to make you laugh and make him blush. And your younger self playing doctor has the same effect, with reversed reactions of course. It only takes a little bit to finish dinner, and Ace returns the dishes to the kitchen to leave table space for photos. He comes back, this time sitting closer. You curl up against his side, and he drapes an arm over you. 

“Can we look through all of our pictures?”

“I was gonna ask the same thing,” he chuckles, picking up a smaller album. You recognize it right away, it’s the one from your first year of high school. When you started taking polaroids. It’s been a fascination of yours forever, and cameras have always been an interesting hobby for you. 

The first picture is actually of the school, and you notice the former Mr. G standing in the corner, looking shady as hell. That’s from the beginning of the year, when you and your sister, Nancy, got roped into the mysterious locker thief at school. 

The next is the ‘crime scene’ photos you took. They’re no professional photos, but they’re decent. Ace looks them over and gives you an impressed smirk. You chuckle and flip to the next photo. You and Ace in the back of a cop car. 

You pressed tape over the powder that Nancy had spread over the teacher’s desk, praying that some clear fingerprints will show up. The desk was cleaned only a few minutes before the theft, which meant that the fingerprints should be visible. 

A cough in the hallway tore you from your thoughts. You and your sister glance up, caught in the act. Fearing detention, the pair of you decided to hide behind the door and make a break for it once the teachers were inside of the room. Solid plan, if they were teachers. 

Instead, you were met with two very strong, very angry looking men, who were glaring at you and Nancy. In the heat of the moment, the two of you made a wordless decision to split up, and ran off in opposite directions. Dashing through the school, Thief One got on your heels, you had known that your only sanctuary would be the old janitor’s closet. 

It was easy to miss. Tucked just around a corner, outside the gym and hidden because of the angle of the wall, Thief One would totally not notice it if he didn’t know about it. And if he did know about it, you just hoped he would believe the stories about it being haunted. Which, in hindsight, were probably true. 

It came down to a split second decision, and you went for the closet. Choosing to go for the supply closet, willing to risk ghosts over crazy thieves who want your head on a stick, you flung the door open...

...And ran right into a mildly familiar fluffy-haired boy. Apologizing profusely at a whisper, you’d closed the door behind you and shushed him. The closet was smaller than you had remembered, and Ace basically had you pinned to the door. Holding a finger to your lips with a pleading look in your eye, you waited for the footsteps. 

They came soon enough, pounding on the floor by the door as he rushed past. You could hear the man open the back door, which was his fatal mistake. Never open the door. Security systems exist. The alarm started blaring, which meant that the cops got called. You let out a sigh of relief, tilting your head back against the door. 

“What’s going on?” Ace had watched your expression relax, and he’d noted how breathless you were when you burst in. He was impressed, to say the least, and really curious. 

“Tell you later,” you whispered hurriedly, bringing a hand to his mouth. “Don’t let him hear us.” Chest still rising and falling rapidly, you try and catch your breath. Ace nods and you remove your hand, focusing on your breathing. 

A few more silent minutes had passed and then the cops had arrested the man outside your closet. You and Ace had come out quietly, seeing Nancy with Chief McGinnis, and two officers watching the two men you and Nancy had accidentally caught. 

After seating you in the police car, shouting at Carson for letting you break into the school, McGinnis had to decide what to do. He ended up dragging you, Nancy, and Ace to the station, only to later send Ace home. Nancy got front seat privileges because she had more of an explanation than you. Which resulted in your dad snapping a picture of you and Ace in the backseat. 

Ace got sent home as soon as you all got to the station, but his interest had been piqued. 

“I remember that. You busted into that supply closet and nearly killed me with the door.”

“It’s not like I meant to, I was being chased by a criminal!” You give him a gentle smack on the back of the head, laughing. “And if I remember correctly, you were still flirting with me for weeks after that.”

“Well that was just uncalled for.” He pretends to be offended, which makes both of you laugh again. “But yes, when you broke into that closet, it was game over. No one else was ever going to compare to you.”

Your face burns at the compliment, and you try and hide your smile. A soft giggle escapes your lips despite your efforts to stop it, and Ace lifts your chin. 

“I mean it. You’re something else, Y/n Drew.” He glances down, distracted by a picture from May of your second year of high school. That’s when you and Ace first got together. It’s a picture of you and him, sitting on the hill out behind the school. 

It was over when Ace had taken his first look at you. He fell hard and he fell fast. He was so painfully obvious about it too. Not that it bugged you, ever since he’d had you pinned against that door, all you could think about were his piercing blue eyes and his sly smirk. The two of you started hanging out more, and the rest is history. 

By the end of your sophomore year, you were dating Ace. Not to mention head over heels for him. Same went for him about you. You guys were inseparable. Are inseparable. 

On the hill, you took out the camera. Ace grinned, knowing exactly what he should do. You flip the camera, pointing it to capture you and Ace, caught completely off guard when he kissed you. The timer ended and it snapped the photo, but you were too wrapped up in the moment to realize. 

You put the camera down and leaned in more, fully embracing the moment. Ace was, and still is, everything you could ask for. When the pair of you had pulled back, it was pretty clear that no one else would ever stand a chance. 

Both of you smile at each other, and you kiss Ace softly. Smiling happily, he  pulls back, still holding the album in his hand. He flips a few pages, and there’s a picture of when you went to prom. You’re sitting next to your mom, Ace standing behind you. Despite the sadness in the air, everyone was smiling. It brings tears to your eyes, and Ace glances over to see if you’re okay.

“I, uh, I forgot we had this one,” you whisper. He pulls you closer, and you lean against him for a second, remembering the night. 

After pictures, you and Ace had separated from Nancy. She wasn’t your biggest fan anymore, and she had never really gotten along with Ace in high school. Something about weed and the fact that he almost went to prison, who knows. Columbia was her priority. 

You and Ace had only spent a little while in the gym, you bailed about two hours in. The room was hot and sweaty, and you and Ace had other plans anyway. The plan was to make a quick stop at home and pick up some cash and a phone charger, then take off for a date night. If you guys had time, you’d pop back into prom for a while. 

When you got home, your mother was dying. Ace was there for you and your dad, and your mom, in a way. She saw him protecting you and Carson, and you know how much peace of mind that must’ve given her. She slipped away, and you sobbed into Ace’s arms. 

“Did I ever thank you? For... For that night?” You look up at Ace, wiping away a tear. 

“Thank me? Why would you thank me?”

“You were there for me.”

“I’d be there for you no matter what. No thanks necessary,” he says softly, brushing another teardrop off your cheek. 

“Well, thank you, Ace. For everything ever. Because I love you.”

“I love you.” He shifts slightly, rolling you over him. You laugh at the sudden movement, and before you can truly process, you’re snuggled against his side, both of you laying comfortably on the couch. 

He picks up the album again, flipping to the last photo. This one is beautiful. It’s yours and Ace’s hands, fingers interlocked. You can see the edge of the bluffs in the background, and the clouds lining the sky are a mix of deep and light greys. 

Neither of you say anything yet, both of you are wrapped up in remembering the moment. 

A few months into your senior year (Ace’s gap year), there was a rough patch. Ace had gotten this idea, that he was dragging you down. You were this perfect girl, Y/n Drew. Your father, Carson, the top lawyer in the district, and Kate has been just about the kindest woman in Horseshoe Bay. Not to mention that your sister was (is) some crime fighting genius. And when you had decided to be a nurse? He’d realized he was right. 

The rift had started, and you felt it. The idea of losing him scared you shitless, so you sat him down to talk about it. It was a nice moment actually, walking up the path to the bluffs. Literally all you did was remind him that he was good enough. That he’s some techno genius and that you weren’t going anywhere far, not with your Dad and Nancy in the place that they were. Not with the loss of your mom. Besides, you never wanted to leave Horseshoe Bay. The hospital needed more nurses. So it’s not like you’re gonna leave him, and it’s not like you think he’s not a good guy. Man, the look on his face when the words-

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Ace. Forever.” 

-had come out of your mouth were priceless. That night stays one of your most cherished memories. The night you and Ace dished it all out at sunset on the bluffs. You reminded him that he was good enough and that you needed him. He reminded you that he had your back. 

Each of you reminded the other that you loved them. That’s why that night is so important. 

“I remember that. I can’t believe I ever thought I was dragging you down.”

“Me neither. Honestly, you make everything so much better, all the time.” You shift your gaze to his face, smiling slightly. He smiles too, how could he not? “Ace, I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

“I know. You mean so much to me, too,” he whispers. You feel his grip on you tighten slightly, making you realize he’s nervous. 

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not.”

“Tell.”

He knows what that means. It was established a long time ago. Both of you know what a ‘tell’ is, mystery solving is common for you, so knowing when someone is lying is important. You and Ace say ‘tell’ whenever it’s obvious the truth is being avoided. 

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“You’re dumb,” you laugh. “Obviously not.”

“Thank god,” he sighs in relief. 

“I’ve thought about how to say this a lot and I really don’t want to freak you out, but the idea of seeing someone else makes me sick. I love you Ace, and I don’t see myself loving anyone else like this.”

“The idea of losing you hurts me more than anything else I can think of,” he replies. “You and me, that’s what makes all of this worth it.”

The room falls silent for a second, and you trace circles against his chest with your finger. He rubs your arm with his thumb, hand splayed over your upper arm, still from before. 

Ace shifts slightly, moving the album onto the table, but something falls from it. An extra photo. From when you moved in together. 

You and Ace moved in together after your first year of college. It was funny, finding an apartment between Horseshoe bay and your new school was so easy. No one else wanted to live in the middle, but it’s perfect for you. Ace could go to the Claw, you could go to school. 

“Ace, is this for real?” 

You’d looked around in awe. All of your belongings were in your new home, the one you shared with Ace. It was perfect. You wouldn’t change a thing. 

“This is for real,” he reassured you. 

The pair of you had spent the night organizing your cupboards and shelves, a task most people would call tedious, yet for the pair of you it had been one of the best nights ever. 

Now it’s your last year of college, and so much as the thought of losing Ace makes you sick to your stomach. He’s perfect. He’s the sunshine on your cloudy days, the left to your right, the anchor of your ship, the rock to your roll. The two of you have become two halves of a whole. You’re his and he’s yours, and neither of you want it any other way. 

Ace laughs, pulling you back to reality and away from your thoughts. He holds up a picture from after your first week of school. You’re absolutely knocked out on the couch, exhausted from school. 

You’d lived with Ace for two months. And it was fantastic. Your decision to be a nurse was finalized when you lost your mom, and the idea of staying nearby stemmed from the state of your family. Nancy’s downward spiral and your father drifting were signs for you to stay close. 

So you did. You went to (and still do go to) the university one town over from Horseshoe Bay, and your apartment is right smack in the middle. Ace could still get to the Claw, major props to the reliable Florence for that, and you could still get to school. 

It was perfect. Studying to be a nurse was exhausting, and trying to protect your sister was so hard. She never wanted any help, she was so focused on pushing everyone away. It was hard, but Ace was there for you. As he always was (and is). 

When you woke up the next morning, you were in your bed, snuggled up with Ace. Honestly, if you hadn’t already known he was the one, you did then. He’s caring and sweet, funny too. Not to mention he’s super attractive. 

And that year was one of the best you’d ever had. It had been relatively uneventful, aside from finally reconnecting with your father. And any day you spent with Ace, those were always an adventure. But it was amazing. And that was the year you and Ace really locked in your future together. 

Late night talks, dinner dates, lazy Sundays, even the silly arguments. All of it was irreplaceable. 

You smile at the thought, and Ace holds up the picture you’ve been searching for. Two Halloweens ago. You almost wonder why your dad, Carson, wants it, but when you really look at the photo, you know. You and Ace look so happy in your stupid costumes. 

“Tell me the two of you aren’t dressed up as those kids from that stupid fairy cartoon.”

“Why would we tell you that, George? We clearly are.” 

The pair of you had laughed. You had thought the pink hat on Ace’s head and your outfit made it obvious. Bess, on the other hand, was loving the outfits. The lot of you were hanging around in the Claw, waiting for Nick to show up so you could head to the party. The joys of carpooling. 

“Are you dressed as Timmy Turner?” Nick had walked through the door wearing a really fancy looking suit, and come over to join the group. 

An interesting combo: Ace and Y/n as Timmy and Trixie from the Fairly Odd Parents, Nancy as Sherlock Holmes, as usual, George as herself- which she was calling Kim Possible (but you all knew she just threw on a close enough outfit because didn’t really want to dress up), Bess as Cher from Clueless, and Nick as a magician. So yeah. Wacko. But now that Nick had shown, you could head out to the real party. 

“Hey, hold on!” You held up your camera that you’d been keeping in Ace’s car (Florence). “Come on guys, pictures before we go!”

You set up the timer and took a few different group shots, then decided to head out. You handed the camera to Nancy, who had a purse on her. Little did you know that she had taken a snapshot of you and Ace talking. 

The party was crazy fun, aside from a guest appearance from some girl with a surprisingly realistic sea ghost costume. No one ever really talked about that again, for some reason.

When you headed out, you and Ace had decided to spend the night in your childhood home. The drive was just too long for that night, since it was already so late. When you and Ace had curled up on the couch, Nancy handed you the photo.

It was perfect. You and Ace laughing about having the same favourite cartoon, your expressions were pure joy. 

“Are you really the kids from that stupid fairy show?!” You make fun of George’s comment. “Coming from the one who didn’t dress up,” you finish with a laugh. Ace laughs with you, shifting slightly so he can glance at your face. It’s a little awkward because of the way you’re laying, but cute nonetheless. 

“That night was crazy. Do you think sea-ghost-girl was Dead Lucy?”

“I never thought about it.” Your eyes widen, and you pause.  “You think?”

“Nah,” both of you say with a laugh, brushing off the idea. You sit up, setting the Halloween photo aside. 

“We’ll make a copy for Mr. D, yeah?” Ace props himself up on his elbows, half sitting up. He fully enjoys the view of you, fully immersed in looking over these photos. You’re so entranced with the memories that it’s like your in another world. He sits up all the way, pushing back your hair. 

“I’m sure my dad would love copies of all of these,” you say softly, eyes settling on some old photos of you and your mom, Nancy and your mom, or even you and Ace with mom. “Oh- Maybe not this one!” You laugh as you slip a more scandalous photo out of the album, handing it to Ace. 

He blushes profusely, running his hand through his hair with a chuckle. 

“Oh god!” Ace looks down quickly, probably imagining your dad seeing. “If he saw this he would kill me!” Both of you laugh, glancing at each other. 

Ace planted a kiss at the base of your neck, and you laughed as you tried to finish writing the answer to a question on your notes. 

“Ace,” you mumbled. He didn’t respond, he was wrapped up in the moment. You took his chin, pulling his face so that his eyes meet yours. “Can I finish this sheet?”

“No.”

He gave you that look, and you gave in instantly. 

“I mean, I don’t have class tomorrow.” You glanced at him, and he was smiling like an idiot. Without a second thought, you grabbed the camera off the coffee table and snap a photo of his stupid grin. Both of you laughed as the flash illuminated his face, and you went to put the camera down.

“Nah,” Ace had whispered softly, leaning in. “Bring it.”

Then he swung you into his arms and carried you toward your bedroom. 

When you manage to compose yourself and bring your thoughts to the present moment, you can feel the heat of your face. You just hope Ace doesn’t pick up on it, because he’ll tease you about this for days. 

“Hey, you better keep that somewhere that no one will see,” you laugh. 

“Oh I fully intend on doing that.” He tucks the small photo into the chest pocket of his shirt, giving it a pat once it’s hidden in the fabric. “Hey, it’s not that late yet. We may as well drive in tonight and hand deliver the photos.”

“That sounds so good,” you say with a smile, looking over at Ace. “We’ve still got like two hours of daylight left. Plus we could maybe stop at our spot for sunset. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“We should, it’s been like six months since we spent sunset on the bluffs.” He gazes over at you, watching as you stack up the photos. You glance over and he pretends he wasn’t just staring at you. Obviously you know he was, but you think it’s adorable that he still has his shy moments. 

“Can I drive?”

“No. You can take a nap in the front seat, because I know you’re tired.” He kisses your cheek, standing in front of you. 

“You just don’t want me to drive Florence,” you laugh. 

“Not true.”

“Is too!”

“Nah-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“No-“ he cuts himself off by kissing you. You kiss back, of course. You weren’t seriously arguing with him, just playing. “You’re telling me you don’t want a nap?” He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. 

“Oh I definitely want a nap. I’m just being funny,” you tease. 

“Alright then, you’re hilarious.” He rolls his eyes playfully, and you pretend to be hurt by his faux-annoyance. “You wanna head out now?” He takes your hand, dragging you off the couch. You stand in front of him, glancing up slightly. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

After you get changed and Ace puts away the dishes, the pair of you make your way to the car- sorry, Florence, and put the box of photos in the backseat. Before long, you’re on the road, Ace’s playlist drifting through the speakers of the car. You try to stay awake, but you’re just so tired. As absurd as it sounds, you fall asleep to an AC/DC song that he likes. 

Ace wakes you up nearly an hour later, and as you wake up you realize where you are. 

“Dad’s place?”

“Yeah. I made a stop and copied the photos in town so you could sleep,” he tells you quickly. “Come on, he doesn’t know we’re here. I want to surprise him.”

It doesn’t take you long to fully wake up. There’s a sort of salty smell to the air, the water of the bay blowing in on the wind. It’s the energy of Horseshoe Bay that you’ve missed so dearly, and it has you awake in an instant. You stretch, looking around quickly. Nothing on the street has changed since you left, and that’s comforting. Ace leads the way, envelope full of the copies in his hand. 

The door is opened before you even reach the stairs. Carson Drew stands in the doorway, a bright smile written on his face. 

“What are you guys doing here?! I thought you were busy until the end of the month!” 

“We had some spare time tonight and our weekend plans fell through,” Ace says happily, walking up the stairs. You follow, only a step behind. “It’s great to see you, Mr. D!” 

Your father has the pair of you wrapped in a warm embrace before you can even greet him. He’s overjoyed that you’re home, especially with how busy your life has been lately. He’s happy that you’re taking a weekend off. 

“Hey dad,” you say softly. He lets you go, and Ace steps back so that you can enter the house first. “It’s good to be back.” You walk through the doorway, Ace and your dad following. 

In the house, you give your dad a proper hug before you spot your sister, Nancy, on the couch. Ace and your dad start talking behind you when you’ve let go of him, and you head into the living room. 

“Hey, Red.” You use your old nickname for your red-haired sister, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Nancy’s head jerks up at the sound of your voice. A grin spreads over her face and she removes her headphones. Standing quickly, she yanks you into a hug. 

“You’re back?!”

“Yeah. Weekend off,” you explain, hugging your sister tightly. It’s nice to actually hug her again. 

The last few times you were in Horseshoe Bay she was off trying to find some missing jewellery, or solve some sort of embezzlement mystery? You don’t really remember. Ever since things have been good with you and Nancy again, she’s been busy. Not that you’re complaining, you’re just glad she’s back to liking you. 

“Hey, what’s Ace got?” She glances over at the kitchen and you remove yourself from her embrace to follow her gaze. 

“The picture dad asked for. And some extras.”

“Right. Did you guys bring the Christmas one? Dad was looking for a duplicate of it the other day.” Nancy looks at you, watching you admiring Ace. 

“Uh, I think we keep the Christmas ones separate, we didn’t look at them today. Which one was he looking for?”

You glance over at Nancy, and she picks up her phone, flipping it over. There’s a Polaroid in her case. You can see because she has a clear case, the picture sits sandwiched between the phone and the plastic of the case. 

This photo is of you, Ace, Carson, and Nancy on Christmas. The four of you are standing in the front yard, which is covered in snow. Everyone’s bundled up and there’s a bunch of sleds around Ace. 

“Come on, please?!”

“Y/n, we’ll be late,” your dad chuckled, walking over to where you want everyone standing despite his remark. He never seriously objected to photos anyway. He likes having keepsakes. 

“Aw, come on Mr. D, we’ll add you to our Christmas card!”

“Ace, we don’t even have a Christmas card!” You set up the camera against the fence, laughing at your boyfriend as you set a timer. You turned, taking in the scene for a split second before you rushed to join them. 

Carson stood with an arm around Nancy, and Ace was beside them, four sleds leaning against him. You chuckled slightly, jogging over to join them. You’d have called it running, but the snow slows you down. You threw your arms around Ace, laughing as he dropped the sleds to catch you. The camera clicked, and everyone was smiling. 

When you fetched the camera, you ended up with a beautiful photo of you and Ace laughing with sleds on the ground in front of you, and Carson and Nancy laughing at you, leaning against each other. It was perfect. It was your family. 

Sledding at the local park is an annual tradition in Horseshoe Bay. There’s even a race on the 23rd, two days before Christmas. That’s where you were headed. 

The four of you were walking, the hill was attached to a park not far away from your Dad’s house. Ace and your dad were talking about your dad’s work, Ace always was genuinely interested in the whole lawyer thing. You’d just been watching contently, glad that Ace got along with Carson. 

“Y/n,” Nancy said quietly, bringing your attention to her. 

“Yeah?”

“I know you’ve only been out of our house for like a year, but I had a lot of time to think.”

“That’s never good,” you tease. She rolls her eyes but continues. 

“When mom died, I pushed you away. I forgot you were losing someone too, and I was horrible to you and dad. I’m sorry.”

“Nance, you never have to apologize to me. I’m your big sister. I’m here to protect you and forgive you no matter what. It was rough for all of us. I understand why you felt like that.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nope. Of course not. I’m your sister. We’re good. We’ll always be good.”

“Thanks, Y/n.” 

“Love you, crapface.”

“Love you too.”

Nancy pretended to be exasperated with the nickname, but you both knew how happy she was that you weren’t upset. She’d let you back in, and you’d taken the opening that was offered. That Christmas was the first one since your mom died that you and Nancy were fully on good terms. 

“You still have that one?” You look at your sister, who nods. She doesn’t say anything, just watches your face. When she notices that you’re still thinking, she speaks up. 

“I, uh, keep it in my phone case so that I can have you and dad close. Whenever I’m stuck on a case, I ask what you’d tell me to do. It always helps.”

“Of course it helps, I am a genius, after all.”

“Shut up!” Nancy gently punches your arm. The two of you laugh, sitting on the couch to catch up. 

After maybe an hour of everyone talking and catching up, Ace stands. You check the time, realizing it’s eight o’clock. The sun is setting. 

“Oh, sorry guys. We actually have one more thing we need to do,” you tell your dad and sister, standing to join Ace. 

“We’ll be back before too long,” Ace reassures them, taking your hand. 

You find it odd that Ace is reassuring them, given that he seems nervous today. Especially right now. You shrug it off as stress, deciding to just enjoy the night. You can ask about it tomorrow. You almost don’t notice the nervous glance Ace throws at your dad before you go out the door. You still do notice, but choose to ignore that too. You will have a nice sunset date at the bluffs, and that’s that.

Apparently, you’re actually going to have a windy sunset date at the bluffs. It’s still beautiful, and the sunset is the clearest sky you’ve seen from the bluffs in years. It’s just a little windy. 

“Hey, smile.” Ace pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a photo of you, smiling cheekily. You reach over and knock the hood off his head. He pretends to be offended as he sits back and scoots close to you. “You cold?” Ace puts an arm around you, feeling goosebumps on your skin from the wind. 

“It’s not that bad, just the wind.”

He doesn’t really listen though, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over you. Not that you’d complain. The dark jacket is comfortable and warm, and smells like Ace’s cologne. 

“You know, one of the things I love about you is that you’re an awful liar.” Ace watches as you slide your arms into the jacket. 

“Oh really? What about that time I lied us out of getting arrested?”

“Okay, That was different. And we were just breaking and entering. They weren’t actually gonna hold us.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a laugh. 

“Another thing I love about you is that you care about everyone. And you’re not selfish.”

“Neither are you.” You look over at him nervously, wondering why he’s telling you this. Your vision is slightly spotty from staring at the sunset, and you have to blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing correctly. 

Ace is kneeling beside you, in his hands. A gorgeous ring fills the spot in the velvet box, but honestly, that’s almost the last thing you care about right now. 

“Oh,” you gasp, genuinely so shocked that this is happening. Yeah, you and Ace have been together for years, but for some reason you’re still surprised. 

“Y/n Drew, you are the bravest, kindest, smartest, coolest, funniest, cutest person I know. You’re beautiful beyond words and I love everything about you. I love how you take pictures of everything, I love the way you see the world. I love that even after a long day you still come home happy.” Ace takes your hand in one of his, and you scoot closer. 

“Ace,” you whisper, a smile spreading on your face. 

“I love that whenever anyone mentions love I think of you and me. Y/n, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You launch yourself into his arms, kissing him passionately as the mist of the bay blows against your faces. 

When you pull away, he slides the ring onto your finger, before kissing you again. The pair of you watch the rest of the sunset, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

You were so glad to finish your third year of university. The stress was over and you could finally hang out in Horseshoe Bay for the summer. 

The first night you and Ace arrived was spent with your friends, and part of the night with your dad, telling him about everything that had happened in the last couple weeks of the school year. 

The second night was you and Ace on the bluffs, watching the sunset. The mist was blowing in slightly, dampening your faces. It was welcome though, the day had been so hot and you were both sweating.

As the night went on, the wind picked up slightly, leaving you shivering. Ace had of course offered up his jacket, and you ended up wrapped up in it. The pair of you watched the sunset together, like you had so many times before, snuggled up against each other. 

You take out your phone as it starts to really get dark and you turn on the flashlight. When you swipe back to the home screen, you see the photo of yours and Ace’s hands, intertwined with the cliff and sunset in the background. The photo from the moment you were just thinking of. 

“What are you smiling at?”

“My screen.”

“Should we head back? Everyone’s gonna go crazy.”

“Sounds fun,” you chuckle. “Ace. I love you.”

“I love you.” He kisses you for possibly the millionth time today (not that you mind), and helps you to your feet. 

“Hold on,” you tell him, pulling up the camera on your phone. You take his hand and replicate the pose on your lock screen, taking a photo with the flash on. 

Instead of the sunset, the night sky is in the background, but it’s just as beautiful. There are so many stars visible that it looks like the sky is glittering, and the flash makes the ring sparkle. You smile at the picture, more than happy with the results. More than happy with everything. You’ve got Ace, your family, your friends, and you’re well on your way to graduating nursing school. 

Soon enough you’re back in Florence, headed back to your childhood home. Your favourite song is playing over the radio and you and Ace are singing obnoxiously loudly and horribly. But it’s amazing. The pair of you have never been happier. 

When you get back to the house, you and Ace walk in the door, met with your sister and dad in the living room. Nancy and Carson watch you intently, and you extend your hand. 

“Did you do it?! You did it!” Your dad pulls you into a crushing hug, before doing the same to Ace. Your sister makes her way over, smiling widely. She glances proudly at Ace before taking your hand to admire the ring. 

“I thought he’d chicken out,” she laughs. “I’m impressed.” She pulls you into another hug, and you savour the embrace. It’s a feeling you’ve missed, the true warmth and happiness that you’re feeling right now. It’s good to have Nancy back. 

The night progresses, and Ace drags you all to the Claw so he can show off to his friends. And so everyone can celebrate. You suppose they’re your friends too, but they’re closer with him.

“Hey! They’re here guys!” Nick turns to the door as you and Ace walk in, and you see George and Bess standing at the bar. They smile when you come in, deciding to come over when you stop to visit with Nick. 

It’s hugs all around, even from George. It’s been a while, so even though she hates to admit it: she missed you. Bess is more than happy to admit she’s been missing you, and she nearly breaks a rib (your rib) when she hugs you. Nick’s hug is soft but secure, and when it’s Ace’s turn to embrace Nick, Nick goes for the bro hug. Ace isn’t having that and engulfs him in a full on bear hug, which results in laughter from everyone else. 

It’s good to really see everyone again. Time really gets away from you with school, so it’s hard to get out to Horseshoe Bay. But when you manage to get out here, it’s always great. 

The door swings open suddenly, getting everyone’s attention and in walk Ace’s parents. Your heart swells at the sight of Ace’s mom and Thom. They come over to where you sit and you embrace each of them before they take a seat. 

“I felt like it was only fitting to announce it here because so many of our best nights were here.” Ace takes your hand, pulling you against him and showing off the ring. 

“We’re getting married!” You grin widely, watching as everyone except Carson freaks out. He pretends to be surprised and he’s clearly truly happy, but it’s so obvious that he already knew. 

“Oh my god! We need to celebrate, let me go see if we have any good food!” Bess takes off, headed to the storeroom. 

“I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t break anything. It’s been awhile since she waitressed.” George heads the same way as Bess, and you turn back to your remaining family and friends. 

Ace’s mom is ecstatic and crushes you into a hug, sobbing about how happy you’re making her son. How you’re soulmates. Thom also hugs you, but he’s more gentle. Like he’s afraid to break you. He’s in disbelief, he didn’t think Ace would ask you so soon. 

“Welcome to the family,” he signs. You smile, nodding gratefully. Gently taking Ace’s hand, you move it away from yours. 

“Thank you, Thom,” you sign back, “I’m honoured.”

If Thom wasn’t crying before, he sure is now. Last he saw, your ASL was a work in progress... but like before it was really a work. It was rough. Baby steps. You’ve been practicing though, and Ace is mind blown. 

“When did you learn that?”

“I’ve been practicing.”

Ace watches you in awe for a second as you smile at his parents again. Thom pulls you in for another embrace, teary eyed. You chuckle gently, tears welling in your own eyes, before pulling away from Ace’s dad.  You look over to your dad and Nancy, who are smiling like idiots. Not that your face is any different. 

“Okay, bad news, there’s no good food.” Bess returns, George in tow. 

“Good news, we found a groupon for The Bay Bakery.” George holds up the ticket, displaying the bakery’s logo. 

“Sounds good,” Ace agrees with a laugh. 

“You kids have fun,” Carson says. “We’ll sit this one out.” He gestures to himself and Ace’s parents, a smile still on his face. Your dad pats your back slightly and you smile at him. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

That’s that. You and Ace lead the group out the door, and the four remaining pile into their vehicles. It’s all smiles and laughter and it’s decided that you’ll all meet there in a bit. You and Ace climb into his car, sitting in a happy silence for a second. 

“Ace, there’s one more person I want to tell.”

Next thing you know, you’re kneeling in front of a slab of rock. Katherine Drew is carved gracefully into the stone. Ace kneels beside you, putting an arm over your shoulder. It’s peaceful. Chilling, but peaceful. Not what you expected, especially since it’s dark out. 

“Hey mom,” you whisper. “I, uh, still don’t know if you can hear me or not.” You pause, letting out a small chuckle and trying to blink away the tears brimming your eyes. “I mean at this point you’d think I’d stop leading with that. But nope. Old habits I guess.”

You pause, glancing up at Ace. He cups your face in his hand, brushing away a tear with his thumb. 

“Keep going, I’m sure she’ll want to hear.” He gives you a reassuring smile and presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

“Mom, Ace proposed to me. We’re going to get married.” It’s odd not hearing a response, but you put your hand against the stone for a second as if it will connect you to her energy once again. Strangely enough, it comforts you. “I miss you, mom.”

“I miss you too, Mrs. D,” Ace adds softly. You let out a small laugh at the nickname, leaning against Ace.

“I’ll visit again soon mom, okay? We’re going to go celebrate right now. I just wanted to tell you first.” You feel a little silly, explaining yourself to a rock, but you know that if your mom is out there somehow, if she could hear anything, this is where she’d hear it. 

A short drive later, you’re reconnected with Bess, Nick, George, and Nancy. They’ve already collected some delicious looking snacks and taken a seat on the patio. The employees inside are cleaning up for closing, and the patio is softly lit up by the fairy lights around the patio. 

You and Ace sit, joining them in their conversation. You laugh and sit back, a smile burned onto your lips. You’ve got your friends, your family, your Ace. You’re well on your way to finishing school. You’re ready to marry Ace and you’re more than happy. Everything is perfect. 

Life is good.

Tags: @ananad1 @remmysrecs @bookish-bucky @sahi-raa @peakyrogers

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #ace nancy drew #ace nancy drew x reader #ace x reader #ace nancy drew imagine #ace nancy drew fic

[galadhremmin]

I was thinking, the other day, of ways having a body that is almost guaranteed to heal from anything not immediately lethal could lead to a wholly different attitude to intoxication.

If human bodies would never succumb to the horrible long-term effects of alcoholism, how would that affect alcohol use? If drugs never carried the risks of permanently damaging your mind, how much more casual would we be in using them?

And elves don't forget as humans did, if I understood Tolkien correctly; memories are so vivid they can more or less live in them, and hardly need to write anything down. Even the body itself will eventually become nothing but a "a mere memory of the fëa"-- the role of elves is to be the memory of the world. Which is to say, can never escape from memory. Is any trauma then like an open wound forever, in a way, because the memory would never grow distant? I think at least outside of Valinor where they might go to Estë it may be; and of course Míriel proves even Valinor was no cure-all. That inability to forget seems like it could easily become agonising in Middle Earth. I think it is the memory more than physical disability that hurts Maedhros, for example; there is a "shadow of pain" in his heart though Tolkien says he "was healed."

When someone talks about a traumatic experience for the first time, they are likely to relive their emotional response to the initial event as if it is happening at that moment. Even without a true flashback it can be an extremely harrowing experience; it's as though the memory becomes unmoored from time, as close to experience as the present, inscribed on the senses-- like the needle falling into the grooves of a record and playing the same song over and over, old emotions replaying like a pre-recorded song. And what Tolkien described of elvish memory sounds like every memory is more like that. Aegnor can leave the still living Andreth and live for the rest of his days on a memory of a night where the stars were caught in her hair. Grudges are held onto for centuries and centuries because the hurt never really fades as long as either party is still alive. Nothing truly goes away; nothing at a remove. A quote from Athrabeth:

"Beyond the End of the World we shall not change; for in memory is our great talent, as shall be seen ever more clearly as the ages of this Arda pass: a heavy burden to be, I fear; but in the days of which we now speak a great wealth.' And then he paused, for he saw that Andreth was weeping silently."

A quote from Shibboleth:

"The lore of the Eldar did not depend on perishable records, being stored in the vast houses of their minds. When the Eldar made records in written form, even those that to us would seem voluminous, they did only summarise, as it were, for the use of others whose lore was maybe in other fields of knowledge, matters which were kept for ever undimmed in intricate detail in their minds."

Of course your relationship with immediate experience vs. memory (and how you value either) itself would change over 100s of years of that. And there is never true escape from life.

When thinking of Tolkien's elves and their lives as long as Arda lasts I always remember that Anne Carson quote; “My brother once showed me a piece of quartz that contained, he said, some trapped water older than all the seas in our world. He held it up to my ear. 'Listen,' he said, 'life and no escape.”

-- and there truly isn't. Awareness and vivid memory accompany them even in death, in fact-- it sounds like to be a Houseless fëa is the ultimate state of being caught in memory with no escape, distraction of the senses).

Another quote from Athrabeth:

"The Elves had (as they said themselves) a 'great talent' for memory, but this tended to regret rather than to joy. Also, however long the History of the Elves might become before it ended, it would be an object of too limited range. To be perpetually 'imprisoned in a tale' (as they said), even if it was a very great tale ending triumphantly, would become a torment."

What I am trying to say is that there seems to be very little escape from the weight of self at all. Except by living and fully enjoying the present (those tralalalallying elves have the right idea!); maybe for the less joyful and more burdened in intoxicants, which would not permanently harm the body. So why not consume them every day, when you can? Thousands of years to accumulate grief! And so much life, and no escape--

Anyway that's why Galion drunk all of Thranduil's wine.

(And also why I'm starting to imagine laudanium as being very popular among the Noldor, Victorian style. Opium dens of Barad Eithel and Eregion-- High Kings-- quite literally. This was supposed to be a serious post but as I am once more demonstrating I'm physically incapable of not making deeply lame jokes about everything).

#as someone with an unusually vivid longterm memory imagining that even more intense and 100s of years is just [gesturing wildly] #it explains why people would hold grudges for 100s of years u know #it's not petty it's just that the past is never past #it explains aegnors willingness to live on a few memories instead of full experience too #drugs tw #elves #noldor #memory

[taentedmess]

sleepless nights

summary: a year is a long time, isn’t it? you’ve spent yours stuck in an eternal, monochrome winter. a surprise encounter derails all of your plans: feelings fade… or do they, really?

pairing: taehyung x reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: swearing, terrible terrible angst (im sorry!), heartbreak, implied smut, angsty flashbacks :(

a/n: hi everyone! this is my very first fic on tumblr and i really hope you enjoy! please listen to spring day and scenery to really get into the feels - i hope you lose yourself in this little slice of a seoul winter :’) also i do have a storyline planned if you enjoy this little piece and could potentially even make this a series aah! please leave comments and constructive criticism - i’d love to grow as a writer! (@chateautae i finally did it!!!!!!)

[    ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙      ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙    ]

09:17am, december 17, 2020

It’s been a year since you last saw him. A year of emptiness, hollowness, blankness. A year since you turned your back, leaving without a goodbye. It’s been a year since you’ve walked out his front door, the same one that you’d find yourself visiting and revisiting when you knew he wasn’t home.

It’s been a year since you last felt some semblance of happiness, a year since you’ve let out a genuine laugh, smiled from cheek-to-cheek. It’s been a year devoid of warmth: you shivered under the embrace of the summer sun, no longer noticed the blooming flowers that you had once loved so much. The world lost all its color. Fading into a bleak grayscale so far away, unreachable. No longer did you walk with a spring in your step, no longer did your eyes glimmer with galaxies that you’d once built with him. You were empty, a ship lost in the depths of the dark oceans. Floating, barely surviving, with no set destination. All you saw were never-ending, infinite oceans in all directions. No escape, no lighthouse. Just you. Alone. Pointless.

Your heart aches for him, the echo of a honeyed baritone, the ghost of his warm, muscular arms wrapped around your shoulders.

It’s for the best, you had thought. It’s for the best.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the thoughts out of your mind. There was too much, too many feelings, pent-up emotions. You weren’t a woman of emotions, never were, swore to never be, until you had met him. And he had changed everything.

Stop. This is getting ridiculous.

You needed to get on with your life, you think. There are too many things to think about, so many better thoughts requiring your attention. What were you doing, wasting your energy on him? It was time, you had decided, to end things once and for all.

The ticket machine snaps you out of your reverie, demanding it get paid. How much did the trip cost? You’ve forced yourself to forget, holed up all the memories too far into the shadows of your mind in your sheer desperation to evade the pain. You slot in a W10,000 bill, way too much, but better than having to remember. The machine happily eats up the cash, returning your card and sending you on your way.

You navigate the platforms, seeing the brightly-lit signs: Incheon line, Suin line, Bundang line. Then you see it, Platform 6, Gyeongwon line. South-bound to Soyosan, stopping at Iryeong. Your heart thumps, stomach twists, and you feel like throwing up. How many times had you once ascended these very steps with him, hand-in-hand, smiling to one another? How many times had you raced up these stairs, trying to get to the platform first? It’s too much, and you want to run. Run away from this place, from the thoughts and feelings.

No. You need this.

The winter air roughly brushes against your cheeks, hurrying you along.

What are you so afraid of?

Everything, you think. Everything. You’ve bound your heart in chains and locks, plastered it with thousands of bandages, one on top of the other. You’ve holed it away, willed it out of existence. You’re afraid of the memories, the emotions. You’re afraid of yourself.

Go. Just go. Get it over with.

You force your feet to move, one after another. You don’t think, you just move. Move onto the platform, move onto the train. You don’t realize that you’ve boarded the machine until you hear an all-too-familiar voice on the loudspeaker.

“This is the Special Rapid Train, on the Gyeongwon line, headed for Sosoyan. We will be stopping at Seokgye, Wolgye, Dobong and Iryeong. Please stay clear of the sliding doors!”

You vaguely see the blinking of lights and hear the shutting of the doors. The train picks up speed, clicking against the railroads. You are blank, a passenger on an endless journey. You sway when the train sways, stop when it stops. You don’t know how many stops have passed, having lost yourself in the familiar nothingness that had hollowed you out for the past year, until the speakers announce something about the next station being Dobong. You’re near, you realize. Too near.

Too soon does the train halt, birthing out and collecting new passengers as seats empty and taken once more in a matter of seconds. You watch this interchange with a bitter smile: how quickly he must have replaced you after you’d left, how he must’ve taken in another in your place.

Stop it.

Too engrossed in your thoughts, you don’t notice the closing of the doors and the blinking of the lights until you hear the loud system once more as the train starts to accelerate.

“Iryeong, Iryeong. Our next stop is Iryeong, please get off on the right side of the train.”

You are left suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, watching as snow paints the ground white. The houses blur into trees and back into villages as you stare out the window, and you start to remember. You remember your hands intertwined, dancing in the snow, the click of a camera as the melodies of your laughs twirling in the air. You remember the snugness of his embrace, his earthy cologne, his smile, his lips pressed against yours…

Stop.

You tear your gaze away from the glass, staring down at your gloved hands fiddling in your lap. It’s been a year. It’s laughable how much and how little has changed. You’re different, yes, but yet so painfully similar to the girl who ran away. It’s funny how much of a difference, or lack thereof, a year can make, you think. It’s certainly been hard on you, and you find yourself wondering about him, about how maybe the year has changed him, how he’s doing, if he’s eating well, if…

Stop.

You’re hopeless, aren’t you?

You sigh and shut your eyes. You’re going crazy. Or maybe you’ve always been crazy. Your thoughts are feverish, a maelstrom in your mind. Involuntarily, you notice your feet rapidly tapping the metal bar to your side, vibrating against the pole. You feel the ghost of a touch on your thigh, hear the empty shell of his words, breathe, Y/N, breathe. What’s got you all worked up? And for a moment, just a moment, you feel his presence to your side, capture the warmth radiating off of his figure, and smile. Because it’s all okay when he’s here.

But he’s not.

You decide to focus on the sound of the railroads, staring down at the speckled floor of the train as the carriage undulates gently, side to side. You ride along, the train’s movements easing your own and you begin to lose yourself once again in the clacks of the rails, mind going blank, until you start to notice the slowing of the sounds. The train’s dance comes to a slow, inviting people to start getting up and shuffle towards the doors. Your heart sinks to your stomach. Not yet, not yet. It can’t be. It’s too soon.

The loudspeaker crackles to life, confirming your worst fears. “Arriving at Iryeong, please stay clear of the doors and exit on the right side of the train.”

Your legs move on their own accord, pulling you to a standing position as you grip the metal post with your life. The train continues to slow, eventually, painstakingly coming to a halt. You wish it never will, that it will continue on with its journey ahead. But it’s too late. The doors slide open, the sounds of the outside world whistle for you, calling you, urging you out of the comfort of the train. You don’t dare move, standing still as passengers trickle out, as the flashing lights start to appear, as the minute at the station starts to come to an end. The doors are closing in five. Four.

You twitch.

Three. Two.

“Wait!”

You rush out the doors, barely escaping the iron clasp of the metals that would’ve devoured you had you been a second too late. Behind you, the steel hisses as the vehicle exits the station, leaving you alone. So utterly alone.

You’re blessed with a moment of solitude, feeling nothing but the cold air chilling your face, until you realize where you are and why you’re here.

The bliss of being alone rapidly evaporates, and you’re hit with a speeding truck. The memories flood in; you’re winded, gasping for breath as you’re stormed with images, short clips of him, you, the pair of you. His smile, his laugh, his cheeks, eyes, nose. His breath tickling yours before he leans in for a kiss, his gentle, large hands cupping your face as you close your eyes…

Stop. Get a fucking grip, will you?

You force the color out of your mind as you make your way around the platform, empty now that everyone has gone. Your eyes graze against the pathetic, run-down station: the signs are only partially lit, the electricity having worn out. Your fingers run against the peeling, dirtied paint of the walls, dust bunnies catching onto your gloves. You scoff. This is pathetic. The floor is littered with plastics and old soda bottles, as if nobody’s been here to clean in too long. Graffiti smiles sadly back at you as you scan the fading walls, losing their life by the second. The bricks have faded into a musty brown, drab and uninteresting. Everything is so run down, so tired. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you make your way to the minimart to your right, wanting a beverage to help warm your insides up.

The doors slide open with a gentle clink, altering the store of your presence. The cashier at the counter looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, barely acknowledging you, before returning to the drama playing on his cracked phone. The shelves are well-stocked, however, in stark contrast to the beaten-down appearance of this whole ordeal. You glide along the aisles, and everything is the same. Your favorite tea is still on the same shelf as it was all those months ago, his favorite gimbap in the bottom left corner of the chiller. Beef and sesame, he’d get, while you’d get a tuna for yourself, clinking your drinks and hearing the hiss of his cola opening, laughing as you made a mess of yourselves, two young fools madly in love. You’d talk, drink, eat for hours, whispering, dreaming and wishing, wondering what was going to come in the future, what you’d name your first puppy, whether you wanted a girl or a boy for your first child. Never would you have ever imagined that it would all end this way.

Stop it.

You grab your bottle of tea violently, almost knocking it over in your hurry to leave. You could no longer stay, not here, suffocating in your memories of him. You erased the gimbap out of your vision, ignoring it as you made your way to the counter, paying for your drink as the half-hearted employee handed you with your change. You mutter a thank you, unsure if he had even heard, and mindlessly make your way out of the store, too focused on keeping someone out of your head. You nearly bang into the glass doors in your haste, looking down and walking as fast as you can. Until your heart stops, that is.

You don’t dare look up, not now. The whole world slows to a stand-still, your gaze sharpening on nothing. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest, your lungs stop working. Electricity charges through the air and you’re left reeling, not knowing what to do.

Slowly, painfully, your neck raises, muscles straining with all their might. You already know what you’re going to see, who you’re going to see, but the sight of him still shocks you all the same. You nearly spill your drink all over yourself when you finally look up, and your brain goes into overdrive. You’re sure that your mouth is hanging open, jaw slack, but you can’t do anything about it. Your knees buckle, you can’t breathe, suffocating, wanting the ground to swallow you up at this very moment. You want to fall, tumble into an eternal tunnel. You are dizzy, light-headed, going crazy, you swear. You’re going crazy, aren’t you? This can’t be real, can it?

You can’t believe it. You’re drowning, drowning in those chocolate eyes, sinking into his pupils, losing yourself in his gorgeous features. You drink him all in, his own face mirroring yours, in no doubt absolute shock or maybe even despair, his deadly stare making your breath hitch as it once did so long ago. He’d never lost his power over you, after all. The world is suspended around you, all operations ceased as you both continue to stare into each other’s eyes, the tension so palpable that it threatens to devour you whole. Your larynx seems to be glued shut, your tongue a stone in your mouth. There are no words, no way to express this feeling that washes over you upon seeing him again.

“Y/N…”

His voice. Your ears ring with his deep baritone, honey to your ears. You can’t help it: you quite literally swoon, despite the circumstances. His voice: it ignites a fire within you, warm tendrils of heat rising up from your stomach. Vibrations send throughout your core, making you lightheaded and sure that you’re about to fall. You remember his timber next to you in the dead of light, comforting you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, it’s okay, it’s okay, breathe, it’s okay, you’re here with me.

You hug your arms around yourself, trying to keep it all in, retain the strange feeling that was now foreign to you after months of cold. It’s been too long, after all - you’ve gone too long deprived of this humanness, comfort that radiated off of him.

Things are different now, Y/N.

Yes, they are. Your mind goes berserk once more, considering all of the scenarios. Why is he here? He probably just needs to go to the minimart - no, why would he come all this way, he lives pretty far as well, or maybe he’s waiting on a friend, no, maybe he’s brought a new girlfriend, maybe she’s with him right now waiting to jump out of the shadows. Maybe they’re both exchanging looks right now when I’m not looking, laughing, taunting me, this girl from the past who doesn’t deserve to be here, maybe they all think I’m a joke now, what am I doing, why, why, why?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that when Taehyung addresses you once more, you’re violently jolted out of your mind and nearly fall backwards, body forgetting everything but the sound of his voice.

“Y/N…” he says again, forcing you to look up at him. Your name splinters through the air from his lips, cutting through the frost and straight into your chest; you notice now that his voice seems tired, that he seems tired.

You finally regain some semblance of control over your frozen tongue, lips moving in an attempt to emit a sound, any sound. Your lips wrap around the sole syllable that comes to you like muscle memory, the only one that you manage to choke out.

“T-Tae…”

Your voice cracks, unable to continue. The prolonged eye-contact has got you weak, his pupils boring into your soul. You look into his eyes, reciprocating, and you notice that maybe they’ve lost their golden sheen, that they no longer twinkle with constellations of stars. And it’s then that you realize: maybe the year has taken a toll on him too.

Look at what you’ve done to him.

“T-Tae, I, I, I…” you sputter out, guilt flooding your system like a drug. There was nothing you could say, nothing you could tell him to cheat yourself out of the situation or paint yourself in a better light like you’re so used to doing. You’re not used to feeling this powerless, this weak. Taehyung was the only one who saw through the facade, the only one who allowed you to feel vulnerable. You couldn’t lie to him, you knew you couldn’t; there was no wheedling, no bullshitting, no lying yourself out of any sticky situation, which had caused you this whole trouble in the first place. You ran because you were too much of a coward to talk to him, to confide in him. And look where that’s gotten you.

“Why are you here?” he asks, burying his head in his hands. “Y/N, why are you here?”

Why am I here? You don’t really know as well, there’s nothing that you can say to him. Why am I here? To get over him? How are you even going to tell him? He has to think that you’re over him, that it’s done. Stop torturing yourself, and stop dragging him through this mess of your life. Tell him that it’s done.

“I… I came because…”

Y/N, say something?

“I came because I… I was looking for you.”

What the fuck?

His head snaps up, his piercing stare catching your gaze once again. “You were looking for me?”

You feel your heart stop.

“Umm… well, I mean, no, but, no, well actually if I think about it now, yeah, yeah I was looking for you,” you stammer, unable to produce a single cohesive line of thought. “I was looking for you because I wanted to tell you that it’s over.”

Your own words are like a dagger twisting into your own heart and vaguely hear a choked sound breaking the awful, awful silence. Until you realize that it’s come from your own mouth, a sob that you hadn’t even realized that you were holding in.

A moment of charged silence goes by, yet louder than any noise that either of you could’ve let out. Never in your life has silence felt so utterly deafening, and you wish to cover your ears and scream it all out.

“You’re telling me this now?” Taehyung manages, features distorted in pain. “You’re telling me this now, a whole fucking year after you walk out the door without a single word to me?”

You look down at the ground, hating, blaming your traitorous mouth for saying something that you hadn’t fully thought through.

No, Y/N. You have to stop bringing everyone down.

You’ve lost all rational thought when you say, “yes, Taehyung. Yes. I had nothing to say to you then and nothing to say to you now. It’s done and it’s over.”

You couldn’t even say sorry?

The frosty wind brushes over the pair of you, causing you to shiver in your boots. You want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and disappear, pretend that this never happened, that this was all a bad dream.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a security guard watching the whole exchanged with piqued interest. It’s none of your fucking business, you want to scream. It’s none of your fucking business. And yet you’re so humiliated, embarrassed at this whole mess that you’ve made of not only yourself but the situation in its entirety that you cannot muster up any words to merely defend yourself. You want to cry, sob, yell, scream.

“Fine, Y/N, it’s okay. You know what? It’s okay, you don’t owe me an explanation, you don’t owe me anything, not an apology, not a reason, not your love. It’s okay. It’s fine. Maybe you never loved me, saw me in the same way. Maybe I just assumed, maybe it was wrong of me to assume. Maybe I was too optimistic, too in love with you that I had forced myself to believe the story that I had made up in my head, that you were in love with me too. Maybe I had wanted it, wanted you so bad that I had made myself believe it. Made myself believe that you were in love with me.”

Your heart instinctually reaches out to him, drumming feverishly against your fragile ribcage. No, you want to scream. No, Taehyung, you couldn’t be more fucking wrong. He doesn’t know the way your heart beats for him in the dead of night, how the mere thought of him sends shivers down your spine, how every cell in your body, every thread of your being aches, yearns for his presence with every hour, every minute, every second.

You feel your heart breaking, splintering into thousands, millions of tiny little fragments raining down like shards of glass. It hurts, it hurts like hell.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Don’t force yourself into anything. There’s no need to anymore. There’s no more need to lie, no more need to pretend that you’re happy.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth.”

It’s not the truth, you want to cry. It’s not. It’s the farthest from it. But you return his look, tight-lipped. You nod, despite the swell of emotions that are threatening to cut you in half at this very moment.

“You’re welcome.”

He reciprocates your nod and slowly, painfully, tears his eyes from yours. He stands up, gingerly, as if hesitating, and you want to tell him to stop, to sit back down, that you’re lying to him, that you want him, that you want him more than anything in this world. But you don’t, and he continues onto his feet, sparing you one last gaze.

“At least I get to say goodbye,” he says, wistfully. “At least I now have the chance to say goodbye.”

You’re sure that tears are streaming down your face at this point, little trails of ice making their way down your blushed cheeks. Your lips are tight, and you cannot, for the life of you, return his look.

Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, you know he’s here, the familiar hold of his arms, your face finding itself nestled on the same spot on his chest, right above his heart. You feel it beat, gently, slowly, under your ear, a comforting rhythm that you’ve too often fallen asleep to, whispered to. Your arms instinctually wrap around his waist, and his head settles on the crook of your neck, the curve of his nose gently kissing your delicate skin. His warmth radiates from under his coat, and you soak it all in, collecting as much as you can. You are two puzzle pieces, a perfect fit, and you will this moment into eternity, searing it into your memory, wishing for the world to stop, stop right now and leave you in this moment forever. You’ve been lost, wandering, and have finally come home.  

But forever doesn’t exist.

You’re struck with a blast of cold at his loss, feeling horribly empty. He steps away from you, and you’re almost certain that you see moisture in his eyes, tears threatening to break free. Every fiber of your being yearns for him, you want to reach out to him, extend the hug, shower him in kisses, make up and forget that this all even happened, but you’re too prideful. You can’t let yourself do this.

“Goodbye, Y/N. Thank you for everything.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

                                            [    ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙    ]

11:42am, March 12 2021

[taehyung]

I miss you.

I miss you as the seasons come and go, I miss you as I watch the world going to shit, losing all hope. I miss you when the wind blows, taking me along like a pointless man, destined for nowhere. I’ll miss you eternally; I’ll miss you when all the ice melts into the ocean, I’ll miss you when everything’s finally disappeared and there’s utter nothing left for me.

I miss you in the brightest mornings and the darkest nights, when the sun comes out to play and the rain starts pelting down like there’s no tomorrow. I’ll miss you in the loneliest winters and the blooming springs.

Everything reminds me of you. I am stuck in this eternal frost without you here; your loss has trapped me into this winter forever. I am slowly losing feel of my limbs as they succumb to the cold around me - everything has frozen into place, trapping me into the confines of this perpetual season. The world is closing in, I have nowhere to go, nothing to do. No longer do I have you to lead me out of this snow, no longer do I have you to hold my hand and bring me warmth through it all.

Why did you have to go?

Baby, did you know how much pain I’d be in when you’d left? Did you know how much it would hurt, how you’ve trapped me into this never-ending arctic, leaving me behind to freeze?

Did you know when you chose to go?

You’ve left me in ruins, my love. I can’t continue without you. I’m struggling to breathe, suffocating, as the world collapses inwards, threatening to bury me alive. I wait for you everyday, through all of the grief, the pain. I still wait for the day that you come back, that I get to see your face again.

Or maybe I’m a dumbass. I don’t know. Have you changed? Or is it I who has? Or perhaps, us both? I’m still a lovesick fool for you, Y/N, that I can tell you for sure. I can’t stop thinking of you, as the days pass, sun and moon taking their turns in the sky. I’m left, suffering in this darkness, bleakness without you here. I wonder if you’ll still be there at the end, when all ceases to exist. I wonder if I’ll see you again; how much more do I have to wait? How many more sleepless nights will have to pass before I can lay my eyes upon you again? How many days, months, years do I have to hold back before I get to feel you, touch you, kiss you, one more time?

Or maybe I’m being optimistic. You know what, Y/N, I’ll never see you again, maybe you’re better off without me. Maybe it’s all for the best, maybe it’s time for me to move on, maybe it’s time for you to move on. Maybe it really was not meant to be, maybe you really weren’t the one for me.

Then why can’t I get you out of my head?

Y/N, I wish I could just forget you. I wish you never existed, I wish I had never gotten to know you. Then it would be so much easier for me. I wish that you had ignored me, that you had turned me down when you had the chance. It would’ve been the most pain that I’d feel at the time, but believe me, it’s nothing compared to this.

Now I can’t get rid of you, no matter how hard I try. You’re there, you’re there when I lie down and close my eyes for the night, you’re there at work, hiding behind my papers and my laptop, waiting to take me out to lunch. You’re everywhere, baby, you’re in the car, riding shotgun and racing to connect to Bluetooth first, singing at the top of your lungs as we speed down the highway like the reckless teenagers that we were. I see you, hair tangled by the wind, belting out your favorite lyrics out of the roof of my convertible. And I remember thinking, for the hundredth time that night, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. Damnit, Y/N, you’re standing by the mirror every morning when I get ready for my meetings, dainty fingers straightening my tie and planting a kiss on my lips. You got this, lover boy.

You’re there, and then you’re not. You flicker between reality and imagination, I cannot discern whether I’m living in a fever dream or simply hallucinating. You’re slipping through my hands like grains of sand: I’m losing more of you by the second, can’t seem to hold on to you. You’re disappearing, getting further and further away as all I can do is watch helplessly as you fall through my fingers.

Where are you now, Y/N?

I worry about you, I worry whether you’ve eaten well, whether you’ve slept well, whether you’ve had a good day at the office. Have you seen your parents lately? Have you had some time to yourself over the past days, have you overworked yourself as you often tend to do? Are you taking care of yourself?

Is it selfish of me to be wishing for you, thinking of you after all this time? Tell me, Y/N, is it wrong of me to be wanting you despite it having been over for so long now? You’ve probably moved on by now, considering how long it’s already been. Maybe you’ve met someone new, maybe you’re in love with someone else, maybe I’ve already been replaced with another man in your life.

Maybe I treated you wrong, maybe you didn’t feel like I loved you enough, maybe I didn’t make you feel special enough. I wish, Y/N, I wish that I could turn back time for you, I wish I could go back and be better for you, that I could fix all of the mistakes that I’ve made, wipe all of the tears that you might’ve cried for me, swallow up all of the pain that must’ve been plaguing you, to suck up the hurt that you were feeling back then. I wish you could give me all of the pain, I wish that I could’ve carried it all for you, shielded you from it all like how I should’ve done.

But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

You’ve met someone else by now, you’re laughing, smiling, whispering with another, kissing someone else’s lips, in love with your new man. And I’m still here, trying to get over you like the pathetic loser that I am. There are so many regrets, so many things that I wish that I could still tell you, so many errors, mistakes that I made. It’s all my fault. I want nothing more than to be able to get on my knees in front of you and apologize for everything. There are so many more words, so many moments that I want nothing more than to be spending with you.

I’m still in love with you.

I think I always will be, Y/N. I know it’s selfish of me. I really can’t help it. I’m sorry.

You came into my life like a whirlwind, taking all of me along for the ride. And now that you’re gone, I don’t know what to do with myself no longer. I’ve been swept away with you and my fate will forever be left in your hands. There’s nothing left for me here, not in my work nor art. All that’s left is you. You are the only thing keeping me going now - I live another day, endure another night hoping for you, waiting for the day that I will finally see you again. I open my eyes for you in the mornings, in hopes of laying them upon your figure once more.

Maybe it’ll all be for nothing, I know. Maybe I’ll never see you again. But there’s nothing left for me, remember? I’m willing to take my chance. For when I finally do see you once more, it will all be worth it.

I miss you, Y/N. I miss you so fucking much. My heart beats for you, my lungs breathe for you. My every cell in my entire being aches so desperately for you, for you and you only. And so I’ll wait for you. I promise. I’ll be here for you, waiting for the day that I get to catch a glimpse of you, to be there when you need a shoulder to cry on, for when you need even the littlest, tiniest thing. I’m ready to give you the world, baby. I’m ready to right all my wrongs, to treat you like the fucking queen that you are. I’m going to treat you the way that you deserve.

When that time comes, my heart will be happy. When the time comes that I see you again, that I hear your voice again, your laugh again, it’ll be okay. All this pain will fade away to nothing. Don’t worry about me, darling, I’ll always be here, waiting. Waiting for you, until the end.

I promise.

                                                   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

an: i hope you liked it!!!! <3 please please please leave feedback my loves!

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung imagine #bts imagine #bts taehyung

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases 006 Pt 6

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: I couldn't find a picture to match Baekhyun's appearance—so I chose one that fits his mood instead  2.0 😅 ♡

[ contains: angst ] Two’s a couple, Three’s a crowd 💔

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)  P(2)

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

My heels click rhythmically on the sidewalk, in perfect sync with the song I’m humming. I’ve taken a liking to listening to new music lately instead of sticking to the same old artists that I’ve heard a thousand times. Trying to expand my horizons and replace sob-inducing ballads with uplifting trap beats.

It’s going okay so far: moving on. Learning how to navigate the world while riding solo. It’s not like I haven’t done it before—sleepless nights aren’t new. Lack of appetite isn’t either. A breakup will never be the end of the world, no matter how excruciating it is. So why should I let it hold me back and define me?

Birds chirp merrily in the trees, bringing a smile to my face, especially when I catch sight of a little hummingbird enjoying nectar from a patch of flowers. If there’s one thing I can say that has helped me during this time, it’s nature. Simply looking out at the world from my apartment window and taking long walks around the more remote parts of this city have calmed my soul more than I can express with words.

I’m watching the squirrels scurry around on the other side of the street while waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sigh, so much for a moment of tranquility.

I pull my phone out of my tiny jean pocket, furrowing my brows at the caller ID. Jongin…? That’s strange, has he ever called me before? I rack my brain for answers. Nope, this is the first time he is calling me. Flashbacks of our distant friendship since that one summer fight I had with a certain someone flashes through my mind... I press my phone to my ear before I can overthink it any longer. "Hello?"

"Riley." Jongin’s smooth voice filters over the line.

"Hi," I mumble, continuing down the street, noticing a beautiful blue and green butterfly flying by with a smile. The pitter patter of a water fountain in the distance has me falling back into my 'Zen’ mode. "What’s up? How are you?"

"I need a favor." He drops; straight to the point. Sending me right into a panic.

My phone nearly falls to the ground. "...You didn’t break a leg or something-"

"No, no," He immediately responds, recognizing the high pitch of hysteria in my voice. "It’s nothing bad."

Thank fuck, the last thing I need right now is bad news. It may be the end of March, but I’m not really feeling this 'Spring’ season. My mood shifts faster than the strong wind. The only stress I try to have nowadays are always work related because if I stop and think about my personal life for a moment I am fucked.

I take a deep breath, leaning my back against a light pole before replying to him. "Okay."

"There’s a dance competition in June," He slowly explains, "and I need a partner."

"Oh..." I blink a few times, straightening back up. "Huh… I’m sorry, I’m not really good at choosing candidates. I’m not a professional-"

"I mean you." He interjects, background music drifting over the line. "I want you to be my partner."

I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment, looking at it in disbelief, "I'm sorry—What?"

"I have a routine already," His voice takes on a warmer tone, pure persuasion dripping from his honeyed words. "With your name all over it."

"...Eh??" I look off to the side, trying in vain to find something—anything to distract me from the tingles zapping down my spine at the sound of his voice. God… what the fuck? "Don’t you have like a million other people who specialize in-"

"I made the choreography for you."

My heart hammers in my chest. "And why the heck would you do that?" I demand, tightening my grip on the phone. Something out of the corner of my eye suddenly captures my attention, dragging my eyes over to it instantly. The sight that greets me has my throat going dry, gulping as my hands shake.

It’s Baekhyun—and he isn’t alone.

He’s accompanied by a tall, beautiful woman, the same height as him in her flat sandals. Her black hair reaches the middle of her back, contrasting against her light blue overalls and swaying softly in the cool wind. They lean against a brick wall next to a cute coffee shop with matching coffee cups in their hands.

Jongin’s words fade into background noise while I watch them. My vision blurs when she laughs, resting her hand on his arm. The way she easily initiates physical contact with him speaks volumes; this isn’t their first meeting. It’s been 2 months since January, and yet...

My heart constricts painfully in my chest, I suck in a deep breath. Lightheadedness hits me full force, I quickly cling onto the pole when my body sways off balance. Shit… I must have been holding my breath. 

"Riley?" Jongin’s muffled voice drifts from my distant phone. Thankfully it fell onto the parking meteor next to me and not on the ground. "Riley!"

Burning a hole into the back of Baekhyun’s silver-haired head, I bring the phone back to my ear. "I’ll do it," I mumble lowly.

"I’m sorry?"

Staring at Baekhyun and his new friend, I make my decision. "I’ll be your partner."

•••

Okay… Maybe I was too hasty in agreeing to this whole dance competition thing. I should have waited to make a decision when I was in a better state of mind.

It’s been a good four weeks since I agreed to be Jongin’s partner—four weeks of pure hell.

If I had known what kind of dance moves were incorporated in this routine I never ever would have agreed. The choreography appears simple and subtle enough on the surface, especially thanks to Jongin’s gifted skills, but that’s the problem. It’s not simple; it’s a fucking ankle breaker. It’s pure well-organized insanity and I don’t know how much more of it that I can take.

"From the top," Jongin’s voice echoes in the dance studio. He presses a remote to start the song over again. I try to stay focused, ignoring the looming figures of the other hostile dancers in the room. Why they all gathered here to watch us practice today, I have no idea, but it isn’t helping me at all.

The bass booming from the stereo speakers vibrates the wood under my feet. Sweat permeates the air. Their predator-like stares break me down from the inside out. The memory of Baekhyun with that woman pops into my mind...

"5, 6, 7-"

Shit!

Gasps echo around the room when it happens: I collapse onto the floor, clutching onto my throbbing ankle.

"Riley?!" Something about the alarm in Jongin’s voice makes me wince, curling in on myself as everyone’s whispers float into the air.

"Oh my god, is she serious...?"

"See what I mean! She has two left feet. Why is he wasting his time on her?"

"Dumbass can’t even do a single number, let alone a simple choreography. The way he chose that over me…"

I try my best to reel in my emotions, to keep the hurt from being seen on my face, but there’s only so much I can bear—there’s only so much I can take.

Tears pelt down my face while their loud gasps and delighted giggles fill the air. I make a move to climb to my feet, ready to bolt out of here and never step foot in this place again when a gentle hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Riley." It’s Jongin, crouching down to meet my eye. "Are you okay?"

I can only shake my head, losing my breath as their taunting voices swirl around my head like a whirlpool, consuming me whole.

"Riley, stay with me." Jongin rests both his hands on my shoulders, directing my eyes to his whenever I look away. "Talk to me. What’s wrong?"

"I-I," I choke, covering my face in my hands before I sob pathetically on the hardwood floor. The throbbing of my backside and ankle only makes it worse.

"Ri-"

"Look at her! Pathetic at it’s finest."

Jongin stiffens, I don’t even need to see him to know that he’s gone rigid. His hand slips off my shoulder as I watch his silhouette rise from the spaces between my fingers, standing to his full height.

"Mind sharing with the class what you just said, Kim Nora?" He looks at the woman in the middle of the 5 dancers leaning against the far wall, his jaw clenching.

"I-"

"If you have something to say, say it."

"I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for years. Years, Jongin!" She snaps, her shrill voice bouncing off of the walls. "I’m on time for every rehearsal. I practice until I bleed. Why does this no-name slut get to come in here and take it from me when she can’t even stand on her own two feet?!"

"Kim Nora." The way he says her name has everyone on edge. My back prickles in fear and secondhand embarrassment. He’s not even directing that stone cold tone at me and I’m hella uncomfortable sitting here.

"Who’s dance studio is this, Nora?"

"Yours-" She looks away, not brave enough to meet his eyes anymore. "-M-Mr. Kim..."

Jongin hums, holding his hands behind his back while pacing up and down the floor. "Who’s name is on the sign out front, everyone?"

"Yours, Mr. Kim." They chime in sync with meek voices. A look of regret painted on every single one of their faces.

"Mine." He concludes, satisfied before turning his dark eyes back onto Nora. "Let me explain something to you, Nora."

Her eyes stay focused on the floor.

"This is my practice, my building." He stops pacing, stretching his arms out to showcase the room. "You are under my roof." He looks dead at her, eyes colder than ice. "You are here because I let you. Do you understand that?"

"Y-yes, sir, but I-"

"Next time," He cuts her off, "You decide to be immature. Next time, you decide that your knowledge is anything close to my expertise." He steps closer, and I’ve never seen a person standing 3 feet away have such an impact on an individual. "Next time, you decide to mock one of my friends." He lowers his voice, and I can feel the heavy promise coming off him in waves. "You are gone. Do you understand me?"

Nora babbles something unintelligible, tears brimming her eyeliner caked eyes.

"Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes!" She sucks in a breath, snot clogging her nose as she directs her eyes back to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He steps away, turning on his heel before rushing back over to me. "Riley," His voice is softer now, much like the Jongin who helped rescue me from my birthday party 2 years ago.

"Hey..." I hush, lowering my hands to my lap.

"Are you okay?" He hands me a clean towel, his brows furrowed in worry. "How’s your ankle?"

"I-It’s fine."

He raises a brow, reaching out a hand to me. "May I?"

"Yeah." I sigh, noticing the familiar look of concern on his face.

Jongin takes my ankle into his hands, handling it carefully and pressing a few places. "Does it hurt?" His frown deepens when I wince. "And here?"

"Yeah," I nod, my face pinched up in pain.

"From 1 to 10," He continues, looking me dead in the eyes, "How much pain are you in?"

My lips part to answer, but I pause, biting the bullet and wiggling my ankle around to see how bad it actually is. "F-four out of ten." I grit out, still so sensitive that tears sting my eyes again.

"It’s sprained." He concludes, gently lowering it back to the floor.

"W-what does that mean?" I ask fearfully. Whatever it means, it doesn’t sound good with the contest 6 weeks away. Shit, why am I such a fuck up? What if I can’t perform let alone learn the choreography in time? I’m such a failure, I-

"It’s not bad," He reassures, resting a comforting hand on my arm. "A few days off of it and you should be good as new."

"R-really?" 

Jongin nods, smiling softly. "Nothing a few days off can’t fix."

"Oh, thank you," I whisper in relief, wrapping my arms around his neck to mask the tears that escape my eyes. "Thank you, thank you."

"No," Jongin shakes his head, hugging me warmly, whispering just as quietly in my ear. "Thank you."

•••

After that day, none of the dancers have bothered me, let alone showed up to any more dance practices. Jongin made sure of that. No one fucked around with him either after the way he resolved the issue. An angry Jongin is a scary Jongin; that much I know now.

Sighing softly, I look up at the fluffy clouds overhead, trying to salvage the calm that washes over me in wake of April’s flourishing weather. The flowers are more alive than ever. Small animals and other critters run around for food on the ground. The world around me is the picture-perfect example of nature at its finest—so why is there an uneasy feeling weighing on my chest?

Work is going well and the book we had spent months and months preparing was released last week. I’m on my way to the nearest bookstore to grab a copy for myself. To check that no grammar related errors got past my keen eyes or because I genuinely enjoy the novel, who knows. I want to see the final product for myself and check out other releases. It’s about time I pick up another book besides the one I stayed up countless nights making sure everything was finalized.

A cute bell chimes when I step through the door, hit with the aroma of fresh coffee. Every time I go to a bookstore or library, it’s like I am stepping into another world. The shelves filled to the brim with hundreds, maybe thousands of literature, all at the touch of your fingertips.

From ebooks to the dusty classics, I love them all. I may not read everything; I might be one of the pickiest readers out there, but I appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears that go into every completed book. Good or bad, the author has big balls for trying and putting their name out there. I have mad respect for that.

Venturing further into the shop, my eyes catch the Fantasy section with ease. I make my way over, already seeing a colorful display set out for the newest releases. The sight of the book I’m looking for brings a smile to my face. It feels different to see it in a store instead of reading the rough drafts in the comfort of my bed. Damn the graphic designers put their foot in the cover; it captures the personalities of the main characters perfectly. I couldn’t be more proud.

My smile widens the closer I get to the display, realizing that there is only one copy left of the book. Deserved; everyone from the author to the marketing team have done their best to make this book a big seller. Thankfully the universe left one just for me.

Just as my fingertips touch the edge of the paperback cover, someone else’s hand brushes against mine.

"Oh! Sorry-"

"Ah, I’m so sor-"

My heart plummets and my head snaps up to look at them at once. Puppy brown eyes that I could identify out of countless others and a million stars stare wide-eyed right back into mine.

Fuck.

"Riley?" He breathes, his handsome face painted in disbelief.

I can only wheeze, my chest throbbing as if my heart will explode.

Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck—

Before he can say another word, before I can crumble in front of his questioning orbs, I turn on my heel and sprint out of there like a bat out of hell.

I’ve been doing better, I’m slowly healing from it all, but the moment I see his face—his sweet, tired, kicked-puppy face, I fold quicker than an umbrella in an incoming hurricane. It hurts worse than the force of an 18-wheeler. My whole world full of its fragile edges and duct tape unravels under the weight.

Normally, I wouldn’t do this.

…

Okay scratch that—I used to do this. All the damn time, but with the way our lives have changed and that one conversation we had back in March 2 years ago I… I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk to him. I’ve made it my mission to avoid Sehun.

I know what he will say the minute I tell him what’s up: I told you so—the bane of my existence. That one phrase alone is enough to keep me from confessing so many things. I rather suffer in silence than hear that sentence, but… This is different.

No matter how much it pains me and paints me in shame, I need to tell my best friend what's been going on. After everything he has done for me since our childhood... I owe him that much. So here I am now.

I chew on my bottom lip and knock firmly on his apartment door, waiting for someone to answer with bated breath.

It opens a few minutes later, revealing his unmistakable tall form as he dries his hair. Sehun does a double take. "Shorty?" He breathes in disbelief, pausing in ruffling his messy black locks.

I laugh a little, warmth sparking in my aching heart from the nickname. "Yeah," I breathe, managing a wobbly smile, already feeling tears prickle my eyes. "That's me."

We stare at each other for a long moment, nothing but the distant swish of driving cars and the muffled conversations happening beyond the open balcony on his floor fills the silence. Ah… My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I shouldn’t have come here. He’s probably busy enough as it is-

As if reading my mind, Sehun’s gaze softens. He throws the towel around his neck before opening his arms. "Come here."

I bury myself in his chest without hesitation, soaking the fabric of his black t-shirt with my tears. "I’m sorry," I croak, holding back sobs.

"Hey, hey," a low, soothing voice chimes in, resting a hand on my arm. "What happened?" 

"I don’t know," Sehun mumbles, rubbing my back as I shake in his arms. "But whoever did it will be missing an arm."

"N-No need, Hun," I sniffle with a shaky sigh, pulling away from his embrace. A chill covers my skin with goosebumps the moment I step away. It’s been like this all week; feeling hot to the touch, yet shaking like a leaf at the same time. I have no idea what is going on, and at this point… I don’t want to know. I can say that for a lot of things.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I turn around, smiling apologetically at the brown-haired man standing in the doorway. "I’m sorry for popping up out of the blue, Lu."

"Nonsense," Luhan shakes his head, his curly hair partially covering his worry-filled eyes. He takes my hand between his, "Come in, I’ll make us some tea."

"Okay," I whisper, shuffling into their apartment. I take the tissue box he offers me, following him into the spacious living room. He goes into the kitchen while I sit down on their couch, my breath hitching from the emotions budding in my chest.

Sehun closes the door, noisily walking on the wooden floor in his flip flops. He sits down next to me, questioning me with his unwavering stare, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. I… I don’t know where to begin; I can’t even find the words. The squeal of the teapot in the other room fills the tense silence between us.

"Alright," He sighs, propping his foot up on the coffee table and resting his arm on his knee before giving me a hard look. "What did Byun do?"

I choke, snapping my eyes to his, "How do you know?"

"You never visit," He points out in the driest of tones. "And when you do, you always call first."

I can only lower my head, pulling my knees to my chest.

"You don’t usually cry after seeing my face either. I mean," He continues, nudging me with his elbow. "Am I ugly or something?"

I snort. "Shut up." Shaking my head, I sigh deeply. "I just… A lot has happened." Risking a peek at him, my shoulders relax at the worried furrow of his brows and the care in his sharp brown eyes.

He nods, smiling the softest that I’ve seen in a long time. "I got time." 

I smile a little, my chest bursting in gratefulness for having a friend like him in my life. No matter what happens or what I get into, I can always count on Sehun to be there.

…

If only I didn’t have so much baggage to bring to his door.

"I…" Come on; I ball my hands into the fabric of my shirt. Say it.

Sehun keeps his eyes on me and I struggle more to get the words out, my chest starting to heave. Should I be here? Should I be doing this? What will he say? What if this just makes everything worse—

No.

Sehun is my best friend. We have shared so many memories together, the good and the bad. I was the first person he came out to. He was there when my father walked out of my life. I cheered him on as he climbed the ranks of his weight training team. He helped me catch fireflies in my backyard when all I could rely on was my poor eyesight.

It’s always been him and I against this cruel world. One man—one boy, won’t change that overnight.

"I broke up with Baekhyun." 

"What?!" Sehun leaps off of the couch. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah..." I drag out, looking him up and down in confusion. Panic hits me in the gut. "W-Why? What’s wrong-"

"Dude!" He exclaims, tangling his hands in his hair, the most comically distressed expression on his normally 'bitch’ face. "I thought he broke up with you."

The thought of what would have happened if Baekhyun had been the one to dump me makes my heart hurt so much I feel the color drain from my face.

"H-Hey," Sehun immediately takes notice, waving his hands around. "Not on the couch, anywhere but the couch-"

Luhan suddenly appears behind him with a tray of drinks, lovingly smacking the back of his head. "Here," He soothes, ignoring Sehun’s pelulant whines while setting down the tray on the coffee table and offering a mug to me.

"Thank you, Lu." I breathe, smiling when the scent of lemon and ginger hits my nose.

Luhan takes the seat on the other side of me, resting a comforting hand on my knee. "We’re here." He nods, sharing a look with Sehun before focusing back on me with the gentlest of eyes. "Whenever you are ready."

Gulping, I curl my fingers around my mug, the warmth of the tea and their soft eyes giving me the strength to open up.

I am finally able to put everything into words… I just hope we all make it out unscathed. 

Closing my eyes, I start from the very beginning, updating them on what has happened since the year we started dating. The summer fight I never told Sehun about, Baekhyun’s ex Haneul following me around. The French lady at the photoshoot, the model behind the scenes. Our fight that reached the public. What went down at the Byun’s house… And finally… how I ran, and never looked back.

Sehun’s facial expressions shift from one extreme to the next throughout my confession. At one point I have to look away from him, stuttering the more I see the disappointment in his eyes. By the end of it, I’m mumbling to the lukewarm mug between my palms rather than them.

My words trail off into silence, nothing but the ticking of Luhan’s treasured grandfather clock making a sound. I’ve grown to hate this the most: the empty space that leaves room for my thoughts to sneak up on me again.

"You were hiding all of this..." Sehun speaks up, betrayal joining the disappointment in his eyes. "All this time."

A lump forms in my throat, "I-"

"You kept this to yourself for years." He grits out, his voice growing sadder by the minute. "Years, Riley."

"I’m sorry," I sob, curling up into a ball, choking on my tears. "I’m s-so sorry."

"Why?" He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"I-I didn’t wanna bother you," I babble, gasping so much for air I choke even more. "You’re busy with work and your own love life, who am I to bother you with my problems?" Tears blur my vision and stain my glasses, rolling uncomfortably down the bridge of my nose. "Isn’t that what growing up is about?" I whisper, staring lifelessly down at my untouched tea. "Learning how to depend on yourself?"

"Riley, I don’t care if you’re fucking 80." Sehun barks, scaring me until he opens his arms, forgiveness swirling in his softened brown eyes. "You can come to me for anything."

"O-Okay," I mumble, hiding in his chest.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I don’t care if you shave your relaxed hair, adopt a cat, or the world is on fire." He proclaims sternly. "No matter what, you can always come to me."

The comforting smell of fresh laundry on his clothes has my shoulders relaxing, my sobs quieting down to small hiccups. "Okay." 

"Good. Now take these sweaters back."

His words take a few moments to register in my sluggish mind. "Huh?" I blink, lifting my head off of him, sitting up fully and immediately recognizing the bundle of clothes in Luhan’s hands. "No," I shake my head, ignoring how dizzy I suddenly feel. "Sehun, those are yours-"

"And I want you to have them."

"I-" My heart constricts in conflict, "But-"

"But nothing. You act like I don’t know that your ass gets cold." He mutters grumpily, crossing his arms. "Keep them, alright?" Being the observant guy that he is, he picks up on my weary glance at Luhan. "Lu chipped in some of his too."

"Mine are comfier," His boyfriend jokes, smiling cheekily.

"Yah."

"You know it’s the truth."

"Only because you—yah! Why are you crying now?!"

"I just…" I sniffle, laughing softly. "I love you guys."

Luhan’s smile brightens while I whine over Sehun messing up my hair. "We love you more."

•••

May passes by in the blink of an eye, mature plants welcoming the upcoming summer heat. I love and hate this for two reasons. One, it’s a certain someone-who-shall-not-be-named birth month. Two, the dance competition is two weeks away. Two weeks. It is literally May 20th and I am sweating my hair out over it.

Why did I agree to this forsaken competition again? Oh right—I decided that a two-step routine is the equivalent of a love triangle. Nice going, Riley.

I sigh, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. Two weeks until the competition means that my schedule is more packed. Yeah Park’s Publishing may be on an "easy going" break from publishing books right now, but I’m not getting a breather. 

Nope, the moment I jokingly told Jongin how I didn’t know what to do with all my free time, he brought up daily dance practice—no, he down right demanded it. And when I started to complain:

"What? It’s not like you have anything else better to do."

I’ve been seething over that for a week.

Huffing at the memory, I plop my bag not-so-subtly on a chair before looking at Jongin on the other side of the room.

"Glaring at me won’t help you perfect the choreo faster-"

"Suck my dick."

"Oh, baby," He grins, raising a brow. "I would if I could." He saunters his way over to me, his beautiful bronze skin already glowing in a thin sheen of sweat when he leans down to face me, "but I don’t mind either way."

I push him away with a hard roll of my eyes, "Let’s get this over with."

"Feisty," He humors. "Someone is feeling better today."

"Better enough to kick your ass," I mutter, tying up my hair in a messy bun.

"Let’s rehearse the second verse," He takes a swing of his water bottle, a serious expression on his features. "Then we’ll talk." 

"Bring it on," I lift my chin, playing tough despite the nervousness washing over me.

He nods, grabbing the stereo remote and getting into position. "Show me what you got."

We go over the steps one last time before we begin. The first half of the choreo goes smoothly… and then I stumble the moment the second chorus hits.

"Let’s take a break."

"No," I shake my head, resting my hands on my knees.

"Riley."

"One more time." I pant, trying to catch my breath. "I swear I got it, just-"

"We’ve been at it for 30 minutes."

"But-"

"Break. Now."

I flop to the floor in a tired heap, groaning loudly to annoy him. I’m grateful he called for a break though, my flat feet are crying for mercy like no one’s business. Maybe I should—"Ah," I sigh in relief.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off my shoes," I mumble, throwing him a look over my shoulder, not liking his attitude. "My feet are dying over here."

Jongin raises a brow, leaning against the mirror on the other side of the room. "Your parents didn’t see a pediatrician about that?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Born and raised in America," I chirp. "The land of the free, Mother fucka."

Both his brows shoot up. "Are you feverous?"

"No," I mumble, fiddling with a loose string on my shirt. "It’s really hot out."

"Have you been sleeping?" His eyes narrow at my lack of response. "Riley?"

"Oh would you look at that, the ceiling tiles have a noticeable gap between them-"

"Sit down."

"I’m fine." I sigh, reluctantly dragging myself over to the only chair in the room.

"You won’t be if you keep this up." He points out, more than a little peeved. "Have you been drinking enough?"

"I-"

He thrusts his water bottle in front of me. "Drink this."

"But you drank from it!"

"I’ll give you mouth to mouth too if you don’t sit your ass down."

I blink, giving him a long, wide-eyed stare. "Why so serious?" The fed up expression on his face is enough of an answer. "Okay—okay! Fine." Inspecting the bottle for anything floating around on the bottom, I tilt my head back to pour some water in my mouth, mumbling with stuffed cheeks, "There, happy?"

Jongin just sighs, turning on a rotating fan. "Stay here. I don’t want you moving until you finish that bottle."

"Sir yes sir," I mutter, giving a little salute. Grinning when he glares sternly at me. He sighs before going back to the other side of the room.

Watching him practice his solo parts in the mirror, I leisurely sip from the bottle, noticing how his shirt sticks to his fit body. Jongin is tall, a bit broad, and lean. He has a dancer’s body and muscle in all the right places—I can’t imagine his diet. I shiver at the thought of it, checking my forehead. I’m not picky about fitness; I’m a bit on the curvy side myself. I rather have something to sink my fingers into. Speaking of which...

"Hey, Jongin?" I call him tentatively, continuing when he hums. "Why… Why did you make a choreo with me in mind?"

He doesn’t respond for a minute, and I wonder if he will until he goes over to retrieve something from his bag. "I always wanted to dance with you," He admits, throwing a towel around his neck. "To know what it was like to view your beauty up close." He bends his knee, bracing his foot against the wall as my eyes widen. "The way you move, twirl around, and glide across the floor. The blissed out expression on your face… You are at home on the dancefloor, and it shows." He looks up at me then. "You shine brighter than a million stars."

I forget how to breathe for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"I’ve never been envious of Baekhyun but..." His sultry eyes meet mine again. "When it comes to you, it’s hard to fight my jealousy."

My lips part a few times, endless questions dying on the tip of my tongue. Realizing I’m gaping like a fish out of water, I settle for looking down with a hot blush.

Jongin chuckles, tossing his towel onto his bag. "Come on," He pushes off of the wall, walking over to me and taking me by the hand. "Let’s finish up for today."

"I can stand up on my own, you know?" I grumble. "...Thank you."

He just smiles before we take our positions in the middle of the room.

We take it from the top again, soaring through the routine without a hiccup. I put all my energy into not missing a step, dancing beside and around him with ease—

"Stop."

"What?" I blink, turning around to him. "What’s wrong now?"

"That."

"What?" I repeat, my eyes narrowing.

"That." He emphasises, gesturing to me. "You’re too tense. You need to relax."

"How do you expect me to relax, Jongin?" I mumble heatedly, hurt swelling inside of my chest. "I broke up with the love of my life. I had a shitty week. I can barely do the second verse of the choreo without breaking my ankles-"

"You can’t relax," He speaks up, suddenly standing in front of me. Staring into my eyes with his determined ones. "Because you don’t want to."

"I-"

"You fear what will happen if you do." He continues, holding me captive with his piercing gaze. "You fear the unknown."

"D-Don’t I have the right to...?" I hush, feeling my heart race the longer I look into his observant brown eyes. A part of me hates it; being read like an open book. My vulnerabilities and weak points on display without me wanting them to be. But this is Jongin.

He stares deep into my eyes, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. "Not on my watch."

There’s nothing to fear.

He selects a song for the stereo to play, and the moment a certain afrobeat instrumental plays through its speakers, I feel the urge to move my body deep in my soul.

"Let go," He encourages, turning around to meet my eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

Woman

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I’m intimidated by my reflection in the mirror. The sight of me with messy hair, dewy skin, baggy clothes, and my bare feet makes me feel like the wildest looking woman in the world… until I see the sadness and fear visible in my own eyes.

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

Slowly, I move my hips to the beat, getting a feel for it while watching myself in the mirror. My awkward posture makes me tsk, shifting into a more flattering and stable position. 

What you need?

She give tenfold, come here, papa, plant your seed

She can grow it from her womb, a family

Provide lovin' overlooked and unappreciated, you see (Yeah)

The lyrics… A sense of empowerment washes over me in waves, motivating the swirl of my hips and the smile forming on my lips. The melody of the song begins to seep into my very bones, warming me up from the inside out.

You can reciprocate

I got delicious taste, you need a woman's touch in your place

Just protect her and keep her safe

Baby, worship my hips and waist

So feminine with grace

I touch your soul when you hear me say, "Boy"

Let me be your woman

Winding my waist feels like the most natural thing in the world, circling my wrists while bringing my hands back down to my sides. I can see Jongin’s proud smile from the corner of my eye.

My movements get more energetic as the chorus plays again, the repetitive lyrics flowing like the blood in my veins, felt deep in my very being. Hitting me on a level that very few things ever could.

I glide across the floor when the second verse begins, letting my hair loose and throwing my weight around. The soreness of my waist only makes me shimmer harder, fighting against the aches trying to hold me back—against the chains locked in my mind.

Princess or queen, tomboy or king (Yeah)

You've heard a lot, you've never seen (Nah)

Mother Earth, Mother Mary rise to the top

Divine feminine, I'm feminine (Why?)

Throwing my hands up, I smile as Jongin starts complimenting my movements, playing a smooth rhythmic cat and mouse game with him all over the dance studio. My bare feet on the wooden floor propels me forward, making me feel more connected with the Earth around me, with the woman I want to be.

I’ve caught up to him by the time the song ends, breathing heavily with giddiness pumping in my veins. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I feel like me again—I’ve found myself again.

A hand tucking hair behind my ear has my eyes snapping up to Jongin’s, the adoring expression in his chestnut brown eyes making me feel small and appreciated at the same time. He cradles my face in the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek. Tingles erupt on my skin; my heart swells with something I haven’t felt in a long time when he starts to lean in.

"You were out fucking Jongin."

I flinch away, pressing my back to the wall, my heart in my throat. "I-I," I look away, hot embarrassment painting my face red. "I don’t want to make you a rebound." A thought occurs to me at that moment: how much taller and stronger Jongin is than me. The consequence of my actions. The vacant practice room. Fearing the worst, I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Nothing happens for a while, the silence dragging on for so long that I start to grow lightheaded, cursing myself for agreeing to all of this in the first place.

Are you happy?

I pause, thinking hard for a moment. Despite the rain cloud constantly hanging over my head, I am doing something that I love. Regardless of me looking like pure shit, Jongin sees a light in me. And against all the fucking odds, I… I feel liberated. I feel free.

With that, I open my eyes, staring fearlessly at the man in front of me.

To my surprise, Jongin smiles. "I don’t want to overstep my boundaries," He mumbles, resting his forehead on mine.

A smile breaks out on my face, putting my secret dimples on full display.

It’s finally D Day—the dance competition is just about to begin, and I can’t for the life of me find my bracelet.

"Do you really need that?" Jongin carefully ruffles his styled hair, squinting with one eye over at me.

"It’s for luck," I justify, searching both our bags.

"You depend on a silly little bracelet to give you luck?"

"My grandma made it for me," I snap, my blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Okay, okay—you," He gently takes me by the shoulders, directing me to his chair. "Sit. I’ll find it."

Finding that all-too-familiar 'no nonsense’ expression on his face, I sigh, carefully covering my eyes with my hand. Both of us got our makeup done for today. He’s got on a golden glimmer of eyeshadow to bring out the sultry brown of his eyes, and I’m rocking a burgundy shade that makes my eyes have their own sensual glare in the mirror.

Tucking my hair-sprayed hair behind my ear, I wince at the thought of washing it out later, but the end result is worth it. My brown hair is bone-straight, complementing Jongin’s lavender-gray, middle-parted hair. Not gonna lie, he’s a total eye-candy right now in that red jacket and mesh shirt, and his stage presence is to die for. His oozing confidence just pumps me up even more.

Watching him pull out my bracelet from some hidden department that I have never seen before in my life and come over to strap it onto my wrist with the gentlest touch has newfound hope blossoming in my heart. We came to perform and we came to perform well.

As if hearing my thoughts, Jongin looks up at me at that moment, nodding firmly.

I nod right back, smiling softly. Win or lose, we are going to give it our all.

We make our way out of the dressing room, listening for our cue from the staff member next to the gap leading out onto the stage. They give directions to someone in their headset before giving us the signal.

I can hear the crowd as we step onto the stage, vibrating the floor under us and my whole being with their excited cheers. Nerves aren't pumping furiously through my veins. No, pure adrenaline guides me forward, and the reassuring smile Jongin sends my way makes me at ease all the more.

When the lights dim and the music starts, my hands are already in my hair, my hips popping to the beat.

Just let it flow as it is for me.

As it moves, show me.

I slide down into a crouch, spreading my knees before rolling my neck to the beat. Quickly standing back up, I slowly run my hands through my hair, swaying my hips side to side. I stop moving to let the crowd focus on Jongin, watching him with a smile.

The party has been getting boring.

Jongin starts doing his own thing while I beckon him closer with a body roll, strutting to him on the other side of the stage. I strike a different pose along to the beat, rubbing my hands over my body and rolling my hips. 

Don’t hide it anymore for me

Sliding my hand down my chest, we lock eyes before the chorus hits.

The reason that hides your heart

Do you feel it triggering me a bit?

Here comes the fun part; we sync up our dance moves. Shooting each other little smiles while staying on beat. My long hair sways in the wind; the feeling of being free—free to be me striking me with a sense of comfort in this moment. Jongin catches my eye as if he feels it as well, his killer smirk morphing into a heartwarming smile.

Baby don’t play with me

I slow down to sway my hips to the beat while Jongin slides behind me, pressing his firm chest to my back. The ripples of his abs brush against me through the fabric of his mesh-shirt, warming my sun-kissed skin under the light heat of the partially cloudy sky. His hand tucks under my chin when I face him for the next lyric, "You’re my VIP."

(She talkin’ about)

We sync up again for the next part of the choreography, making me giggle in delight, beaming over the fact that I might have cried a hundred times practicing this choreo but I can finally say that I can dance it without breaking my ankles. And the proud smile on Jongin’s face adds onto that fact.

He points out to the crowd and we change positions as the pre chorus starts again. Jongin acts like the cool, smooth man that he is while I roll my way back to him, matching his moves before blowing a kiss to the crowd when the chorus kicks back in again.

Top down ya

It could be you and me, it could be you and me

I place my hand on Jongin’s shoulder, strutting around him while he shrugs off his jacket. Preparing for the bridge that we changed last minute. Now it’s his time to shine.

Now let me give you what you want tonight

You told me

I take a step back, focusing on complimenting his movements while he has his moment to woo the crowd. Those charming smirks and attractive smiles can steal the heart of anyone, especially the cheering people standing in the front row. There’s a lot of things I’ve learned recently about Jongin, and his unmistakable stage presence is one of them.

The chorus comes back one final time and we go all out. Dancing until our feet ache and the wind picks up around us. The sweet smell of tteokbokki and summer breeze in the air brings another smile to my face. Jongin gets down on the floor while I kneel on one knee to straddle his lap, looking into his eyes with his finger tucked under my chin as the last lyrics of the song fades away.

There’s a long moment of silence, and then the crowd erupts into cheers. Applauding so loud it overwhelms my sensitive ears. Jongin and I step forward to take one last bow, smiling at each other before making our way off stage… but a certain, persistent stare has my eyes flickering back to the crowd. The glimmer of silver hair in the front row is all I allow myself to see before hurrying to leave.

"That was," I start, gasping for breath by the time we reach the dressing room. "Fucking amazing!"

Jongin smiles, glancing over at me, "You liked it, huh?"

"Dude—I fucking lived for it!"

He laughs and it’s super cute, especially with his wide smile.

"That was so cool," I sigh, flopping down onto the couch.

Jongin raises a brow, a smile still on his plump lips. "Would you do it again?-"

"Hell no!" I squeak. "Well… Not unless it’s with you." His eyes dance under the painfully bright lights. "Stop smirking, I take it back."

"Don’t worry." He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans back against the vanity table. "You’ll be the first one I call next time too."

We’re called back up onto the stage before I can reply, but the smile I beam his way speaks volumes. However, nerves are plaguing my mind this time around. There’s no mistaking the silver hair that I saw in the crowd.

Just as I thought, when we are standing next to the other contestants, there he is. Front and center. I close my eyes with a deep sigh. What the fuck, man? Why are you everywhere?! Can I catch a break from him please? Please?!

Tension builds in my body, but then something cracks.

You know what—

I clench my fists. Fuck him. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or not; he’s no longer a part of my life. Why should I care?

My eyes don’t stray far from the judge and Jongin, even with the constant itch of Baekhyun’s stare. Take a picture, it’ll last longer, asshole. 

The minutes seem to drag on as the judge gives his big speech, listing the criterias and rubric for calculating the winner. A whole lot of gibberish that I have no interest in listening to; I hope Jongin is paying attention. The knowing look he gives me when we briefly make eye contact confirms it. Yep, I smile sheepishly. Sorry.

That damn ticklish sensation on my skin still hasn’t moved while the couple in 3rd place steps forward to receive their reward. I swear to the heavens, Byun Baekhyun—

Snapping my neck around, I glare right at him despite my heart dropping at the sight.

He stands in the front row, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the crowd in his black hoodie and dark jeans. The only thing that makes him pop is his ever-silver hair… and the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

My heart races. Are those—

"And the winner is: Jongin and Riley!"

The crowd roars in excitement, everyone standing up to applaud us as the judge hands Jongin the trophy and a helper places a ribbon around my shoulders. I can’t help but beam at Jongin, both of us smiling wide enough for our mouths to hurt later, but I don’t worry about that now. This is our moment. I throw my arms around him, laughing loudly when he sets down the trophy to spin me around in the air. 

"We did it!" I wrap my arm carefully around his neck, pumping my fist in the air.

Jongin sets me back down, keeping his arms loosely around my waist. "You," He plants a kiss on the top of my head, "did it."

I can’t erase the smile on my face or the glee in my heart even if I tried. My eyes glance back out at the crowd while he goes around congratulating the other contestants, immediately locking onto those soul-sucking, puppy brown eyes. Half a year later and his eyes never fail to make me feel nothing and everything all at once. But I won’t let that define me: I’m not Baekhyun’s woman anymore.

Spectators in the crowd around him are buzzing with energy, dancing to the outro music they are playing overhead while he continues to stand stock-still, his brown eyes focused on me. 

My mind drifts for a second, imagining what it would have been like to be standing up on this stage with him, winning the competition with him by my side. I acknowledge it, let my mind have its little reminiscing moment—and then nip it right in the bud.

I don’t want to live a life of 'What ifs?’ anymore—I want to experience those 'Why nots?’ instead.

I sense Jongin before he steps closer, his chest brushing against the back of my arm. "Are you ready to go?" He asks, his lips grazing my ear.

I continue to lock eyes with Baekhyun, laughing inwardly at the unreadable expression on his face and the lack of a sparkle in his eyes. And when that tall raven from months ago runs to pull him into a hug, my gaze doesn’t waver from his in the slightest. "Yes." I turn my back on him and rest my hand on Jongin’s bicep with a swirl of my hips, peeking at him from under my eyelashes.

He smiles down at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. We link our arms together while walking backstage and out of the stadium.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)  P(2)

A/N: Team Jongin or Team Baekhyun? After that dance practice scene, my heart is stuck somewhere in between 💔

Hiya! Long time no see (^-^)

I don't have much to say ahh (>.<) my brain is fried. The emotions in this chapter came from a week of sleepless nights and a marathon of Doja Cat's Planet Her <3 I still got 10 scenes to finish up before Six Phases will be completed. This isn't the end! Just the best cliffhanger I could do with a 100+ page doc (thanks to my nearsightedness. font-size 16 is a lifesaver)

I might suddenly drop the Finale out of nowhere :'D everything depends on Riley~

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story!! 🥺🥰🌸💗 Writing this baby (haha) is my favorite thing to do and to share it with all of you means the world to me <333 Alright, I'll stop being mushy. Have a great weekend, lovelies! See you as soon as the Finale is done~

Happy two years of Un Village & city lights!!

Thank you endless Baekhyunee for inspiring me. I wouldn't be here without you ❤️

#baekhyun angst #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfiction #bbh-net #baekhyun #Team J or Team B? #Six Phases