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azuisreading · 7 months

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Sistah Samurai by Tatiana Obey

This is no revenge story. I ain’t got time for that. I’ve got errands to run and things to do and barely enough time to make it home before sundown. I don’t care why folks are going around stealing ink. I don’t care why the monks are acting kinda strange. I don’t care that everybody is expecting me to save them. I might be a Sistah Samurai but those days playing hero were back when my knees didn’t ache, and I wasn’t the only one left. So leave me alone. All I want to do is get home, drink some green tea lemonade, and enjoy my peace. I’m not asking for much, so why are all these demons daring to get in my way? I am not the one. Not today. Sistah Samurai is an Action Fantasy novella that is an homage to the anime, Afro Samurai. Both works feature a feudal Japan-inspired setting that is rife with anachronisms. In the words of Samuel L. Jackson, “Is that a motherf—ing RPG?”

Review

Meeting Tatiana was one of the brightest things that the Universe could have done for me. After her duology, I knew I would want to read anything she writes. After coming into contact with her, I knew I would want to keep in touch for as long as possible. Even when we both knew that I wouldn't be the best reader for her new novella, she let me be part of her ARC team. And if I wasn't grateful enough then, I am now.

Sistah Samurai could be the story that changes your life.

It’s also exactly what Tatiana says it is: a love letter for her people. Yeah, it’s destined for a certain audience, and though I am not part of it, I felt the love and the embrace as if I were. So that’s not an obstacle for you to not get it. Everyone should have and everyone should read Sistah Samurai, only to feel and experience that kind of feeling.

It has a lot, and I’m not kidding when I say it. A LOT. The words are telling you a story while the background is weaving another, though both of them are related and intertwined and it would be hard to tell them apart. I loved it. I loved both, I loved the hundreds of thousands of different stories that are flowing together in this short novella.

I loved the protagonist and how she was annoyed at everything and everyone but was unable to ignore them anyway. I loved how I knew some things were about to happen and how uncertain things slapped me in the face. I had a smile even in the saddest moments and my heart was always filled with the love that was coursing through every word. I love how I couldn’t foresee things and how those things came hugging me from the back.

What I didn’t love, though, was that it finished when I wanted to continue knowing and reading more, and this is a weird part because that’s also something I love. How it got me to want to know more and read more even when the story was finished. And like I told Tatiana when I reached her to talk about this story, I also love the sense of reality that kind of ending gave me, because that’s usually how real life feels sometimes, when you don’t get to know what happens next, when that’s the end you get about another person. It grounded me. (But she knows I’m totally up if and when she wants to dive into this universe again.)

This is a story about love and that was the only emotion I felt while reading, so I recommend you that, if you are trying and looking for a story like this, you read this one.

Phrases that I liked so much that I marked them while reading

«Tamashii ink is an extraction of a person’s soul, they say. If so, the color of mine must be blackity black black black.» — Chapter 1.

«I see you looking at me. I know what you’re thinking- this girl done left her glasses at home, but she sure did remember to grab her shades. Well, yeah, ‘cause they make me look like a baaaad motherfucker. So mind ya business.» — Chapter 1.

«They called me Sistah Samurai, but in truth, I was just a tired woman tired of being tired.» — Chapter 2.

«The only difference between me and everybody else was that I’ve got a katana to help me row, but most times, it didn’t keep me moving forward none.» — Chapter 2.

«I wore a faded and lived-in black kimono while everyone else in the village had already donned their spring yukatas. The bright floral prints decorated the streets like spring shower rainbows, and I shoved through those rainbows like a thundercloud.» — Chapter 2.

«Her mouth dropped open in awe as she stared at me, as if my halo of hair marked me as some sort of goddess worthy of worship.» — Chapter 2.

«Straight lying out of his neck. I debated if I should call him out on it, which led to another uncomfortable silence. Even the little girl, who was looking between us with some confusion, blurted, “Just ask her out already.”» — Chapter 2.

«There used to be a street that led straight to my favorite restaurant, but someone had plopped a house in the middle of it and that street didn’t exist anymore. Instead, I took three right turns, passed underneath a roughshod bridge, navigated through a hybrid bakery-tailor-barbershop monstrosity mishmash to reach the plaza that had been five steps from where I started if I could walk through walls.» — Chapter 3.

«Too often, it was so easy for time to get away from me.» — Chapter 3.

«I returned to my now cold ramen. The son, at behest of the chef, brought me over a steaming bowl of ramen. Bless him.» — Chapter 4.

«Desperation made monsters of us all.» — Chapter 5.

«If the demons were ever to breach the gates while I was away, I had no doubt that this restaurant would be the only building left standing… and the inksmith’s shop. Probably. If the old man didn’t forget to activate his talismans again.» — Chapter 5.

«Let him try, but the more intention he used, the faster his ink would fade.» — Chapter 5.

«The metal melted around the fire, and I kicked the door the rest of the way open, except the blasted thing slammed against the opposite wall, and rebounded back to shut closed in my face. With a huff and roll of the eyes, I gently pushed open the door.» — Chapter 5.

«Finally. Someone around here had learned some manners. I just didn’t understand why I had to be the one dishing out the lesson. I didn’t have the time to go around educating folks. I didn’t have the time to correct every ignorant word that fell from the mouths of people who didn’t care to change. Nor should I always have to prove why my existence deserves their respect. But then… there are those days when your patience wears thin, and the cuts are too many to ignore, when you’re too tired but not tired enough, when you’ve had enough of the bullshit and the tomfoolery, and you’ve reached that magical moment when you’ve manifested the ability to make time. Someone’s got to teach these fools- Never disrespect a Black woman.» — Chapter 5.

«I should have been left the village by now, but of course I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I just had to get involved. Now look at the time.» — Chapter 6.

«I should have tried harder. I should have stayed. I know that, okay? But I can’t go around saving everybody. I’ve lived that life before. I’ve got to take care of me and mine. So leave me the fuck alone.» — Chapter 7.

«I was so tired of you annoying the shit out of me all the time. “Leave me alone,” I demanded. “But you’d be so lonely without me.” Lonely my ass. I’d rejoice the day I’m free of you.» — Chapter 7.

«I was tired of leaving behind loose ends because I didn’t have the time to tie them.» — Chapter 7.

«Of all the days for this to happen, why today? It was as if I started off on the wrong foot this morning, and I have been unable to get my groove back. No point wasting time and complaining about it, though. You’ve been complaining all day. Shut up. If you’ve got a problem with it, then you can get the fuck out of my head. No one likes a backseat driver.» — Chapter 8.

«I had been doing so well this morning blocking you out, until… […]. I guess we all have our triggers.» — Chapter 8.

«I wished I understood where they came from. The Sacred Order of Brotha Monks theorized that the demons are pulled from other worlds, embodiments of nightmares and traumas so intense they fray the line of reality and impose physical manifestations on the adjacent worlds around them. All I know is that I want all these other worlds to deal with their shit, so I don’t have to.» — Chapter 8.

«I’m still here. Fuck you. One day, I’ll figure out how to exorcise you, too. I know I failed. I know I made a mistake. I know I should have been there. I was a Captain. I should have been holding the line. The only way to cleanse that sort of shame was through hara-kiri, but I sure as fuck was not dying and giving you my soul. Are you living just to spite me? Hell fucking yes, I was.» — Chapter 8.

«Would nothing go right today?» — Chapter 10.

«But when push comes to shove… You do what you gotta do.» — Chapter 10.

«The lieutenant’s fire blasted against my summoned shield. The loser- whoever’s talisman ran out of ink first. I sure as fuck knew it wasn’t going to be me.» — Chapter 10.

«I squinted at a sudden glint of light around the warlord’s head. What was that? Okay. Fine. If I survived this, I promised to never leave the house without my glasses ever again.» — Chapter 10.

«I didn’t know if I wanted to live, or to die.» — Chapter 11.

«Who was left to scream into the void and say that we were here? To declare that we were more than the soldiers the world forced us to be. We were women, and mothers, and sisters, and cousins. We were teachers, and healers, and innovators, and warriors. And we went down fighting.» — Chapter 11.

«I thought about my Sistahs—who deserved more respect, more dignity, more love, and certainly more life than the world ever gave them.» — Chapter 11.

«It was a risky talisman, but I wouldn’t have trusted it from anyone else but her.» — Chapter 12.

«The bodyguards stumbled back and dropped their katanas. Ah. Now they were fleeing. But I was faster.» — Chapter 13.

«”Men hope while women carry the world.”» — Chapter 15.

«Why do I always have to be strong all of the god damn time?» — Chapter 16.

«”And I choose to no longer carry their deaths. Instead, I choose to carry their love.”» — Chapter 17.

«Time was cruel and it was brief. It was merciful and patient. It was fragile and easily broken. It was bright and way too fast. Cherish every god damn moment. ‘Cause spring would not last.» — Chapter 19.

«Finally, to all my fellow black girl nerds, I hope you feel seen. It’s about damn time.» — End Credits.

#sistah samurai #tatiana obey #book blog #booklover #book review #review #reading #I had to take out every : because Tumblr automatically put on bold everything that was before it in chat format and it was ruining my forma #so #every weird - that you find while reading the quotes #that was a : but there wasn't any bold in the original so I just changed it for a - to avoid it

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gayregis · 3 years

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witcher netflix fandom 🤝 witcher games fandom 🤝 witcher book fandom

dandelion's parents treated him horribly and disowned him

deadass the only headcanon i've seen everyone agree on and of course it's one that makes me irrationally sad

tbh yeah i mean. it just makes the most sense considering that he never talks about his family, and the “saddest people smile the brightest” trope.

additionally, with what we know about his family, his personality, and the setting and culture in which they live in:

his cousin ferrant de lettenhove in season of storms doesn’t give dandelion a room in the castle of kerack, or a roomy and spacious place, he is given a small room in a local inn, obscuring his presence and not placing him in a high-stakes governmental and noble court.

ferrant treats dandelion at arm’s distance, and doesn’t get too chummy or loving with him, as you might expect from a brother or a cousin. he treats dandelion as you might treat a responsibility. when dandelion sees him in one scene, he greets him with, “ferrant!” but then immediately corrects himself, saying “uh, i mean, ... mister instigator...” ... why would dandelion have to pretend not to know him?

ferrant’s personality is quite serious, dandelion is quite bubbly and casual. if ferrant is meant to represent the rest of dandelion’s family, we could assume that they’re all as boring as ferrant is, and dandelion is like the rainbow sheep of the family. he has such joie de vivre, he’s the lady in red while everybody else is wearing tan... the flashy girl from flushing...

dandelion has literally been shown starving alongside geralt in a little sacrifice, selling his own possessions (that were gifts to him by lovers anyways, not bought with his own money) to pay for food. he doesn’t rely on credit from banks. in eternal flame, he is a stranger to the setting of a bank, asking increduously, “where do they keep the money?”. he’s unfamiliar with money, so if he comes from a noble family, why else haven’t they endowed him with such?

he left home and doesn’t stay at home / doesn’t call any place his home, not to mention he left before he was 20.

culturally, nobility are expected to marry and consummate marriages so that they form alliances with other noble families. they need to live in one place and manage their ownings and family. dandelion, as we know, is not keen to staying in one place and being married.

in baptism of fire when they are drunk in regis’s cottage in the middle of the wilderness, dandelion remarks “if the countess de lettenhove could see me like this!” ... so possibly his mother or a sister...? the “if they could see me like this” expression usually hints that the person referred to doubted them, or would be surprised to see them in the state they’re in now. they might be horrified, seeing as they’re in the wilds on a dangerous quest, and regis... bless him, his cottage is very humble (a sh*thole in a noble’s perspective perhaps)

the witcher is not a historical setting, and troubadours recieve more respect than other performers. however i think it important to point out that many performing careers in the past in european regions have not always been glitz and glamour - in some societies it was considered shameful to perform publically and likened to prostitution (the logic being that you are “selling your body for others’ pleasure”). dandelion is noted in something ends, something begins to have various friends in various careers, other singers, musicians, as well as prostitutes and different kinds of entertainers (a crocodile breaker, mediums, a professional dice player). these people which he chooses to associate himself with might even be termed “rabble” in a nobleman’s eyes.

he also associates closely and frequently with a witcher, upon one of the lowest rungs of society... a witcher who also lacks family, asides from the witchers he was raised with and by, who has strained or no relationships at all with his biological mother and father.

#sorry. um. the nanny au . geralt is like mr sheffield.................#dandelion #anon #ask

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

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86 and/or 96 for Sayori? the reader picks up on some of the smaller cues that she's had one of the rougher days, and they discreetly try to offer her some comfort.

86) "I'll walk you home."

........

You’ve always been the observant one--noticing the smaller details such as inflections in people’s voices. Just from that alone you can tell if they’re feeling off on a particular day.

And those observant skills came into play during today’s literature club meeting. You greeted everyone, shared poems, and spent time chatting with the girls; it was the usual schedule that became part of your daily routine

However you’ve noticed Sayori’s enthusiasm seemed...a bit forced as of late. You’ve seen it throughout the day considering you both shared a few classes. Her eyes weren’t as bright, and neither was her smile.

You could understand, though, given how she recently opened up to you about her depression. So you’ve managed to pick up on hints of her having rough days--such as this one.

It just goes to show you that even the saddest people smile the brightest. She tried not to let it bother her, not wanting anyone to worry, but she can only hide it for so long.

That’s why you decided to help her out in a subtle way as soon as the meeting ended. Once Monika and the other girls said their goodbyes, you were alone with Sayori.

You approached her as she was still at her desk, staring down at the poem. She had been hesitant to show it to anyone except you--so you knew its contents, giving you glimpses into the pain she often hides behind her smiles.

You didn’t want her gazing at it for too long, so you cleared your throat, causing her to perk up immediately. “O-Oh! You’re still here?” She hummed, quickly putting the poem away with a nervous smile. “What’s up?”

"I'll walk you home." You offered, clutching your bag. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Sure.” Her expression seemed more relaxed as she got up and sighed, stretching her arms. “Well we should go before we get in trouble..that’s the last thing we need, right?”

You nodded in agreement, only to be caught by surprise as she tugged on your arm, practically dragging you out of the classroom.

But you chuckled anyway and let her do what she wanted, glad to see her natural smile was back.

#clanask #anonymous #ddlc x reader #doki doki literature club x reader #sayori #sayori x reader #drabble prompt #fluff #hurt/comfort

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mintartem · 4 years

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Stanuary Week 2: Secret (Deception)

"The people who smile the brightest are usually the saddest"

I still don't feel satisfied with this work like the first week. Still though, I enjoyed making this.

#gravity falls #stanuary #stanley pines #grunkle stan #dipper pines #mason pines #mabel pines #soos' breakroom #stanuary week 2 #mintartem art

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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1. The Urban Market

The publisher was pushing him for something different. Simon didn't know how much more different things could be! He'd built up an entire paracosm over a span of years and gotten pretty successful, in his own opinion. He'd always thought pretty highly of himself, even though he wasn't always great at communicating this.

Esmoroth was his life's work. But, his publisher wanted him to "try something new and diverse." The children of Esmoroth were diverse! And this recent trend of everyone trying to appeal to an "urban market" sounded so much like presumptuousness and pandering… more things he didn't want to say, since he couldn't think of a way to say it without sounding like… he shivered… a conservative.

He just… didn't know enough to write any story that appealed to anyone but his target audience, which he had to believe had someone in this so-called urban market as part of the demographics. Esmoroth was for all mankind, especially the children. Though, he would admit the books got darker with time and catered to an older audience in their current form.

Still… he set off to the bookstore coffee shop, where he sometimes wrote all day, sometimes just did some people watching, hoping to get a spark of inspiration.

That was where he'd first noticed her.

Now that he thought about it, as he watched her move through the store, tending to customers with a flawless smile and brilliant conversation; he had seen her dozens of times before. He had met her in passing.

She had even come to one of his less successful book signings here and seemingly bought the book out of pity. He remembered it so well now because she asked how many he had left and he told her a full box.

"I'll take it," she said. "I know a lot of kids."

He refused. She worked at a bookstore. He wasn't going to have her do that. "You can have it," he said. The two of them engaged in a battle of refusals. Eventually he won whenever he said, "I should be paying you to take them!" She laughed really loud and hard, almost too loud and hard - as though she knew this statement to be true, and he secretly hoped she didn't feel that way about his work. She slapped some money on the table and said, "Okay. I'll take the books for free, but I'll pay for the signatures. I know a lot of kids, like I said."

So, she sat next to him and gave him a name for each book in his box. Whenever he was done, he slipped her money into the box too. She didn't notice that day and if she did later, she didn't bother him about it. She didn't bother him again, to be honest. They passed by each other like they'd never spoken before. Maybe that was why he’d forgotten about meeting her before.

She would come to work, do her job and leave the place with the brightest smile that he knew of… but the saddest eyes he had ever seen, including when he looked in the mirror everyday. Deep, dark brown, without even the slightest hint of light specks, not even when the sun shone on them and they remained as rich as sepia. They were beautiful eyes! Perfect, even in that whatever soul they were allegedly the windows to was boarded up and inaccessible, or just plain old vacant. But… that couldn't be right. There was passion in this woman. He didn't know for what, but for something. He could just tell.

Now that he noticed her, after all of this time, he wanted to learn more.

First part was “easy.” He would learn her name. He didn’t want to go ask someone. That might lead to questions, so he figured that he would simply look at her nametag. It didn’t occur to him that might be a problem since every time he saw her, she was moving around the store while he was sitting in the bookstore’s coffee shop.

He walked through the store, with his bag on his shoulder, nonchalantly pretending to browse the books to see if he could get her attention without asking for it. Whenever he reached the fantasy section, she was making a display for Black History Month. There were displays like it all through the store. He couldn't remember them in previous years and wondered if this was her doing in the place. She felt him staring, though he was trying really hard to be chill and she stood up straight and stared at him. He turned his head, pretending to be looking at a book.

"Anything that I can help you with?" She asked. He looked up.

She was prettier than he remembered her being whenever they had been next to each other while he was signing those books for the kids she said she knew. She looked prettier up close than she had moments ago from across the store. Her skin was amazing. Not just the skin tone (which he found rather nice), but she looked well hydrated and moisturized. She had a glow and immaculate features. He was staring. He quickly remedied that, forgetting that she had offered help and he focused back on the books in front of him. She sighed. "Let me know if you do!"

"Thank you," he finally managed and looked at her name tag, "Grace."

She gave him a weird look and a laugh, "No problem…" she looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. Instead, she returned to her display.

"Ummm…" she looked up again, reflexively eager to help. "How are you… uh.. deciding what to put on these displays?"

"Well.. this bookstore has an African/African American section and they just put everything there.” She pointed towards that section, rolling her eyes, then held her hands out in a shrug motion, “It's February. I've taken the liberty of grabbing books that are by the genres and setting these displays up in the genre sections.” She communicated with her hands a lot. Big, fluid movements, like a dance, almost, while her voice was very animated. “I feel like it's easier to navigate and hopefully some of these authors get some sales." Simon had been mentally taking notes of her mannerisms, and almost lost track of her words.

"How do you know which genre each book is?" He asked, generically.

She squinted her eyes and curled her lips, "Because I know books PLUS I can read…" she laughed. "Octavia Butler will always be sci-fi, yeah? And Nnedi Okorafor is fantasy… so….You have no idea who either of them are."

"I've definitely heard of one of those… but I'm not familiar with…" she looked disappointed, but not surprised. He felt ashamed. Not because he didn’t know those authors. He didn’t know a lot of authors. But, because she knew that he didn’t know them. "Truth be told, I do far more writing than reading. I'm ummm… my publisher is asking for something that appeals to an urban audience, so I'm trying to expand my...intake…"

Her eyebrows were furrowed so tightly that her entire forehead was ground together. "Why don't they just give a publishing deal to someone who already writes that content and at least has heard of Black writers?"

"I will be sure to ask in the next email." He was red in the face.

She bit her lip. He was still a customer, and he had a pretty long running relationship with the store. Longer than hers, even. Every company was trying to get into the “urban market," many of them did that anyways - always code word for Black - but recently, all the places wanted to try to pretend that demographic mattered to them. She couldn’t get upset with him for trying to do his job, and even if she could, she still would do hers. “Everybody at this display table is a better writer than you, so I can't make any suggestions that are on par with what you're used to. I can give you some of my favorites and you can see if the synopses interest you?"

"Yes, please. Thank you.” He wondered why he was thanking her whenever he was certain that at least some of what she said was a little bit insulting. “You're very kind and I know I sound insufferable right now."

"I wouldn't say that. You're looking for help. That's one of the reasons I'm here, to help." She smiled kindly and suggested several books. He bought them all. He didn't know if he'd read any of them. But, she had taken him through the store, telling him several of her favorite books. Not only had he learned her name today, but what kind of content she chose to consume. That was a very successful day, in his opinion.

Simon took his purchases back to the coffee shop and started writing. It wasn't anything like his previous things, but it was very inspired. He couldn't stop. Mostly, it was notes and description. Finding the perfect words for this thing that she did with her lips… sputtering? That sounded ugly. What she did was charming and adorable… like sending a thoughtful breeze through the doorway of her lips… that was… too much. "Pppbbbbrrrrr…" he tried to sound it out in his head without doing it and drawing attention to himself.

Her hair was in dreadlocks… but he saw that there was some conversation surrounding referring to them as such, especially if you shortened it to "dreads." "Locs" seemed acceptable, but like… the ones in the photos were not like hers. He didn't even know if they could be considered the same hairstyle or HOW. Most of these were of white people, and looked, just different than what her hair was like. He felt slightly uncomfortable specifying Black people, but… even then… some of the photos still weren't of them. Of the ones that were there, he wondered if there was different language for their dreadlocks vs the others. His audience might not know what he was trying to depict if these were the images that came up when you searched, if he only wrote “dreadlocks.” He highlighted that. He’d maybe come back to it. He probably was overthinking this anyway.

He spent hours on mostly mundane, but extremely meticulous research, to make sure that this new character he was creating would be imagined perfectly by the reader. He wanted them as entranced with her as he’d been when meeting Grace for the first time (well, after he actually noticed her.)

"I need to get my usual, please, and yes, I wanna donate to the babies," he heard that lively voice say. He looked up and she was leaning back against the coffee counter, looking right at him. "You're still here, Mr. Laurent?" She smiled, but her expression seemed a little suspicious.

He laughed nervously, "Yeah…" he shut his laptop. "I was suddenly very inspired after my purchase." She nodded and then her order was ready. He closed his mouth, but couldn’t wipe his own smile away. She knew his name.

After she signed her ticket, she threw him a quick salute with her cup and said, "See ya around. Good luck with the Black stuff for your publisher." She winked at him to let him know she was teasing. He still felt ridiculous though.

He hopped up and rushed to the counter, "Um, I'd like to have one of whatever she just ordered."

The barista made a face and chuckled, "Mr. Laurent, I don't think you would like that.."

"So, no? I can't order it?"

"Of course. Sure. I'll get right on it."

"Thank you!" Simon cheered. Whenever they went to make it, he leaned over to check her ticket on the ticket spike. He couldn't get a clear look, so he snapped a photo with his phone and whenever he got his order, handed over his card with a smile, like nothing had happened. "Thanks again. Can I get a copy of that?" Simon wanted to know her regular coffee order. He didn't know that his pallet could do it alone, and oh boy, whenever he took a sip he nearly choked. What the hell, Grace?

Rose, Lavender, Chamomile infused coffee, heavy non dairy cream, extra sugar, extra shot… WHY? WHY WOULD SOMEONE DRINK THIS??? "It tastes like soap coffee."

"It isn’t much better as a tea. That's what she gets in the mornings if you want to try that."

"No thank you. I've been daring enough for the day. I'll have my regular." It was just black coffee. He added an extra shot to try to wash the flowers out of his mouth, then proceeded to research things about this dreadful coffee infusion. He wound up researching things until it was time for the store to close.

When he got home, then he could really get to work. He enlarged his photo to see the printed name on the ticket from earlier. Grace St. Catherine. Her profiles were all private. Great. He huffed and pushed his bangs from his face. Which of these might have the most to work with? He couldn't send her something on all of them. Probably… the… one with the photos. He sent her a request to follow and only a few moments later, she approved. He knew that he couldn't go through and like all of her photos. She would see and it might alarm her. But she had so many gorgeous ones. He was glad there was a save option… but he wished that he had the right thousand words for each of them.

He didn't know what was happening. He was just people watching, as usual, but, this was far beyond any other time. This was maybe.. not okay.

But… as long as he wasn't being creepy (to her face) or trying to hurt her, what was the harm in longing to know more? What was the harm in needing to see her again as soon as he could?

02. Mandatory Monroe Mingling

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

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rena-rain · 4 years

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...Smile the Brightest

The saddest people…

It’s that friend you never thought you’d have to worry about. The one with the infectious laugh. The one you don’t know is hiding the most pain.

Marinette realizes she should have been watching closer.

ao3 link

----

Marinette was struggling to keep her eyes open. Hawk Moth had decided three AM was an excellent time to release an akuma. The fight was over by three-twenty, but the adrenaline and nerves and general anxiety kept her awake much longer. She woke up frustrated and dead on her feet.

She was late for school and kept tripping over low walls and her own feet and fire hydrants she didn’t see because of her falling eyelids. It all culminated when she miscalculated where she walked and slammed her shoulder into the locker room door. She heard a stifled gasp. Marinette froze on instinct, listening. There was a moment of silence followed by a sudden series of hard, shuddering gasps.

Somebody was crying, and holed up in the locker room to hide it. Cautiously, Marinette turned the corner.

“Oh my god, Adrien!” She rushed to his side, knelt where he was curled up against the lockers with his face buried in this knees, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t reply, just cried harder. Heart in her stomach, Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Adrien tucked his head into her neck and gripped her tight. His body shook against hers. Hot tears spilled onto her skin.

Marinette had no idea how long they sat there on the cold ground as Adrien sobbed. It hurt to see him like this. But the only thing she could do was stay and stroke his hair, letting him cry himself out.

Once the tears petered out and his breathing became even, Adrien’s hold on her loosened. His form went slack. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Marinette looked down at him in shock. “Sorry? Don’t be silly - not, not that you’re silly! I mean - you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m here for you when you need me.”

Adrien closed his eyes. “Thank you, Marinette.”

A few minutes passed with neither of them moving. Finally she asked, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It made you cry.”

“I’m just tired.” Adrien pulled away and gave her a wan smile. “I didn’t sleep much last night and I just got set off easily today.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet, too. Marinette fiddled with her backpack strap. “Adrien...you don’t have to tell me. But if you ever want to or just need someone to listen - ”

The school bell interrupted her. Did they just miss all of homeroom?

Adrien surprised her with a quick hug. “I appreciate it, Marinette. Really.” Students filed in to get their books for their next class and Adrien released her and walked away, leaving Marinette frozen in her hailstorm of emotions.

“ Girl. ” Alya jolted her to her senses. “Did I just see Adrien hugging you? Did you and Adrien skip class together? Oh my gosh, tell me everything, spare no details.”

Oh, shoot. Alya thought she’d walked in on a … romantic overture. “No, no, it wasn’t like that. I was late and Adrien was already here…” she trailed off. It wasn’t her place to tell anyone Adrien had been upset. He obviously wanted to keep that on the down low, and he’d never trust her if she blabbed about walking in on him in tears , even if it was just her best friend, who was his best friend’s girlfriend, so Nino would probably find -

“Then what was it?”

“I shouldn’t say. It’s kind of private.”

Alya’s face fell for a moment. It wasn’t in her nature to just let things go, especially stuff involving her friends. Then she shrugged and grinned. “I get it. I’m happy you guys are getting closer, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I’ve got notes from Ms. Bustier’s class this morning I can send you. Did you hear about the akuma last night? I slept through the whole thing, I’m so bummed…”

It was hard not to get excited when Alya was excited; her enthusiasm was infectious. Marinette loved having her as her best friend.

Marinette’s phone went off at eight that evening. It was a text from Adrien.

Adrien: Thank you for staying with me this morning.

Adrien: Is your offer to talk still on the table?

Marinette: Of course.

He didn’t respond for a while. The text bubble appeared and disappeared several times. Marinette bit her tongue anxiously.

Adrien: It’s stupid. As I was leaving the house this morning I heard my father yelling in his office. I think he was on the phone or something. Usually I can just ignore it and I thought I did but then Chloe yelled my name this morning and I just kind of lost it.

Marinette: This happens a lot?

Adrien: No, I normally have better control of myself.

Marinette: No no I meant the yelling.

Adrien: Sometimes I guess. Not like all the time but enough that it shouldn’t catch me off guard like that.

Marinette: It’s not stupid at all! Hearing your dad like that must feel awful.

Another five minutes passed before he responded. It only took two for Marinette to start spiralling.

“Oh my god, Tikki, did I say something wrong?”

Tikki looked at the phone. “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

“What if I accidentally offended him? What if he thinks I’m a bad friend and he never talks to me again?”

Her phone chimed.

Adrien: It does.

Adrien: It really does.

The next day Marinette met her friends to find them all cheery as ever. Adrien was laughing with Nino and Alya, looking like nothing could ever get under his skin.

He gave her a one-armed hug in greeting and her entire being immediately lit on fire. Alya smirked at her knowingly.

She kept one eye on Adrien for the rest of the school day. She noticed he seemed a little subdued when he had to go home for lunch but otherwise he seemed fine. Good, even. He laughed, he bantered with his classmates, he helped Rose study for their physics exam, he listened to a new mixtape Nino had made.

Maybe his bout of crying had been a one-time thing after all. Maybe she shouldn’t be worried.

He texted her again later that night.

Adrien: Can I ask you something?

Marinette: Yeah go ahead, anything

Adrien: How often do your parents eat dinner with you?

Marinette blanched at the question.Where did that come from?

Marinette: It kinda depends on how busy they are with the bakery.

Marinette: Like a lot of days, tonight was just me and my mom. But I get both my mom and dad a few times a week.

Adrien: I wish I had that. I’m lucky if I see my father two days in a row.

Marinette: Well, I’m sure my parents would love to have you over sometime if you’re eating alone.

Adrien: I don’t want to intrude

Marinette: I’d have to ask them first, but I don’t see them saying no.

Adrien: I doubt he’ll let me go out. But we’ll see.

Adrien: You’re an awesome friend, you know?

Marinette: That means a lot coming from you.

A couple things changed from then on.

First was a slight shift in Adrien’s behavior at school. He made a habit of touching her in a dozen small ways every day. A hand squeeze. A friendly side hug. A brush of fingers when he hands her a pen. Sitting next to her with their thighs lightly pressed together. Bumping her shoulder when he makes a silly joke. The contact flustered her at first, but with each day that passed she drew more comfort from his touches. Adrien was only touchy-feely with his friends. Marinette hoped this meant he trusted her.

Second, Adrien texted her every night without fail. Sometimes he just sent her a fashion-related meme that made her giggle and said goodnight. Usually they talked about their days, teachers and homework, Marinette’s projects and Adrien’s extra lessons. After some coaxing, he sent her a recording of an original piano piece he was composing. It was a little rough but the melody brimmed with emotion and it brought tears to her eyes. She saved the audio file and told him it sounded beautiful.

Marinette: I’d love to hear the later versions as you work on it

Adrien: Absolutely! I send you another recording once it’s finished.

Marinette: Would you be willing to play it for me in person?

Adrien: :) we’ll see

The more they talked, the more convinced Marinette became that Adrien wore happiness like a mask. She caught glimpses of sadness in his texts; she inferred he wasn’t happy at home. It wasn’t surprising. Whenever Adrien talked about his dad it was about his absence or his making all of Adrien’s decisions for him.

One late night he really opened up to her.

Adrien: I think I might hate him

Marinette: Your dad?

Adrien: Awful, right?

Marinette: Definitely

Adrien: Yeah. I feel like such a shitty son. I shouldn’t hate my own father.

Marinette: Wait no no no no no!

Marinette: I didn’t mean YOU were awful!

Marinette: You’re wonderful Adrien it’s just that you hate him is awful

Marinette: Ugh

Marinette: I meant the SITUATION is awful. I thought that’s what you meant. It sucks that you’re in this position.

Adrien: You’re right. It sucks.

Marinette: What brought this on now?

Adrien: Maybe hate isn’t the right word. More like resent. I’ve had to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of freedom he’s given me. I have to make an appointment with his assistant just to talk to him.

Adrien: Yet he controls every second of my day and I never even see him

Marinette: Is that why you snuck out to see your mom’s film last year?

Adrien: Yeah. We ended up watching it together at home. I remember he said I should’ve trusted him.

Adrien: He’d told me to schedule a meeting time with Nathalie. He couldn’t stop working for five minutes to hear me out

Adrien: It was just “not now, go practice your piano, Adrien”

Adrien: How exactly does that give me the opportunity to trust him?

Marinette: It doesn’t.

Adrien: I want to. My mother’s gone. He’s my only family.

Marinette typed a response. Then deleted it. Started a different response and backspaced halfway through the message. She wanted to make him feel better. She wanted to throw a Lucky Charm in the air and magically fix everything wrong in his life. A memory perked up, something her dad had told her.

He’d said, “You can’t fix all your loved ones’ problems. Sometimes the most important thing is to affirm that the situation is bad and let them know they’re not alone.”

Marinette: I’m so sorry, Adrien. That must be really hard.

Adrien: I’m sorry for unloading all that on you.

Marinette: No

Marinette: Thank you for trusting me.

On Friday morning, the bell rang, signalling all the students to move on to their next class. Alya turned to Marinette as they got up and packed their school supplies. “Hey M, wanna do a sleepover tonight?”

“Oh I’d love to!” Marinette replied happily. God knows she could use a break with her best friend. “Your place?”

“Actually, can I come over to yours this time? I could use a night away from home.”

“Something wrong?”

Alya chuckled as they walked into the crowded school corridor. “Nah, just too many sisters. It gets crowded and noisy and girl, I cannot watch the Ladybug cartoon again. ”

Marinette giggled. “Because of you, I savor being an only child. Let me call my mom and dad, I’ll leave them a message.”

Truth be told, Marinette could use the distraction. Adrien’s dual personality made her worried sick. He acted like the same Adrien he always had, though they’d become closer now. He was helpful, and quiet, and funny, and bright...a ray of sunshine that made her feel warm whenever he was near. At night when she struggled with the homework he called and talked her through the assignment. He texted her screenshots of animal memes all the time. (Her favorite was a picture of a squirrel that looked like it was water-bending. The one of a Labrador holding a glove by the middle finger had made her spit out her water in shock.)

But some nights...some nights, everything he kept dammed up inside him trickled through the cracks. He couldn’t even admit he was annoyed without two apologies and a self-flagellating monologue.

She felt like a bad friend. But Marinette needed one night of complication-free friendship.

After school Alya went home to pack an overnight bag then came straight back to the bakery, looking ready to chill for hours. But Friday or not Friday, Marinette insisted they get as much homework done as they could before dinner. Alya complained that they had the whole weekend and she felt exhausted but Marinette knew if she didn’t start now then she wouldn’t start until Sunday night and she refused to get grounded again and besides what if Hawk Moth chose that exact moment to set loose an akuma on the city?

Predictably, when Tom called them down for dinner Alya leapt out of her chair and vanished through the trapdoor before he could finish speaking.

Despite what she’d said earlier that day, Marinette sometimes wished she had a sister or a brother. She loved her parents, but the dinner table always felt a little fuller and livelier with a friend there, too. For a moment, she felt a pang of sadness when she saw her mom kiss the crown of Alya’s head before sitting down; it made her think how much Adrien probably needed that.

(She still thanked God there were no screaming babies or toddlers waking her up in the middle of the night.)

The girls did the dishes since Tom and Sabine had cooked - not to mention worked in the bakery all day - and spent as much time scrubbing as flicking soap bubbles at each other.

Out of the blue, Alya asked, “Marinette, have you ever played poker?”

“Umm...no?”

“Wanna learn?”

“Girls.” Sabine chose that moment to walk into the kitchen with her tea. “I’d advise against it. Gambling can be very addictive, I don’t want you to get in the habit of betting away your money,” Sabine admonished. “Marinette, you’re allowance is for you to practice managing your finances.”

“I mean, we can play without putting precious euros on the line.” Alya’s eyes lit up. “Hey Mme. D-C, how many leftover pastries does the bakery have today?”

Alya was a genius. She dealt the cards while Marinette divided up the sweets into their pseudo-currency. Marinette couldn’t shuffle for the life of her; the one time she tried it turned into a game of 52 pick-up. But her eye for strategy translated into cards as well as video games. After she won four hands in a row Alya pouted at her about beginner’s luck and “I’ll beat you so hard when you’re not new anymore,” making them both laugh.

Saturday morning, Marinette woke up to find herself as Alya’s new teddy bear. The blatant, subconscious affection warmed Marinette’s heart. With winter approaching and the weather getting colder, Alya’d gotten more cuddly the last few sleepovers.

She batted her hand around until it found her phone to check the time. Two messages glowed from her lockscreen, from 9:15 and 9:26 last night.

Adrien: Hey, are you awake?

Adrien: Sorry, you’re probably sleeping, I hope I’m not bothering you.

Marinette squeaked, then slapped her hand over her mouth. Alya thankfully didn’t stir. She unlocked the phone and started typing.

Marinette: God, I’m so sorry Adrien! Alya slept over last night and I just wasn’t paying attention to my phone - I promise I’m not ignoring you!

Adrien: No worries, it’s cool. Did you have fun?

Marinette: We stayed up too late watching old movies and playing blackjack. Right now she’s still asleep and has me in a death grip.

Marinette: Did your evening go okay?

Adrien: It was fine. Not as exciting as yours :)

Did a smiley face emoticon mean he was actually smiling? Or was it just a simpler smile to hide behind over the phone? God, she’d do anything to make Adrien smile.

Days passed. A week passed.

Nino and Marinette managed to snag Adrien on one of his evenings off. According to him, convincing his father to let him go to dinner with friends had been like pulling teeth, even though they never ate together anyway. But in the end he’d relented, so Adrien spent the evening being smothered by Marinette’s parents while Marinette watched with a red face and Nino sang praises to Tom Dupain-Cheng’s cooking. She’d rarely seen him so animated before. Something in Adrien just came alive. He shamelessly entertained Tom with horrible, horrible puns (that left Nino, Marinette and Sabine) groaning into their food. He talked to Sabine in Mandarin while she gently corrected his pronunciation. He even loosened up enough for Nino to shoot a grape into his mouth, though Nino was quickly admonished for encouraging childish behavior at the table that should really be reserved for the kitchen.

The only thing that could have made that night more perfect was if Alya could’ve joined them, but she’d been home sick with the flu.

Two weeks passed.

Marinette wasn’t sleeping well. She had nights like that, when no matter what she did she just wouldn’t drift off. Adrien hadn’t responded to her texts, so she hoped he was just asleep. She was passing the time bundled up in a warm coat and blanket on her terrace, knitting a new sweater for her mom.

She startled at the movement in her peripheral vision. A certain leather-clad superhero was perched on her railing, tail swishing agitatedly. He leapt to the floor and landed on his feet.

“Chat Noir? What are you doing here?”

“I...I…” he swallowed. “Alya Cesaire’s your best friend, right? The ladyblogger?”

That was incredibly low on the list of things Marinette expected him to say. “Yeah.”

“I saw her jump off a building tonight. I caught her at the last second and took her to the hospital, but she has some bruises and a broken rib.”

They stared at each other in silence. Moments stretched into minutes.

“She jumped?” The words were hardly a whisper.

Chat nodded.

“She tried to...to kill herself? No. No no no nonononono…”

Marinette yanked at her pigtails. She wasn’t looking at Chat Noir anymore but she did hear his soft voice. “If I weren’t there...I wouldn’t believe it either.”

“ Why? Why would Alya…” Chat seemed to understand what she needed. He held her tightly to his chest, arms around her waist and back while she muttered and stared at nothing in shock.

It would not surprise her if they’d stood like that for hours, smushed together and silent, while Marinette slowly came to terms with what she’d heard. It didn’t make sense. But this was Chat Noir. Her partner whom she trusted implicitly. He would never lie to her, he would never just make this up.

“You’re sure she didn’t just fall? She definitely jumped?” Her voice cut through the silence like a dagger.

“She jumped.”

But Alya would never do this. She was too…

...happy.

Alya was too happy.

The realization hit her like a bullet train. Whatever was going on, she’d been hiding it from the world this whole time.

For the first time Marinette sobbed. She pounded her fists on Chat Noir’s chest. “I’m her best friend! How did I not know? She should’ve told me she felt so bad, she - I can’t believe - I’ve been so blind, why didn’t I notice anything? Why didn’t I NOTICE anything? She needed me!”

They sank to the wooden floor of her terrace while she cried.

And cried more. She cried so hard at some point she started screaming. Her parents, well-attuned to their daughter’s distress, burst through the trap door.

“What’s happened? What’s going on? Marinette, oh dear, what’s wrong?”

Chat Noir gently transferred Marinette to her mother. “It’s delicate, Mssr. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng. I caught a jumper while I was on patrol tonight, and, um. It was Marinette’s friend, Alya Cesaire. She’s alive and in the hospital.”

Marinette heard Sabine gasp.

“I apologize for dropping this on her so late at night. I should’ve waited.”

When he let out a surprised mew, Marinette peeked over her mom’s shoulder. Tom had scooped up Chat Noir in a hug. “You saved my little girl’s best friend. Thank you, Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir looked miserable. Marinette tried to imagine being in his shoes, if she were out patrolling as Ladybug and spotted someone - a teenager her age, no less - try to jump to their death. She wouldn’t want to hear thanks after catching that person, either.

Nino did not take the news well.

Mme. Cesaire had called him and told him Alya was hospitalized. The next morning, at school, he was in a right state, frantic that his girlfriend’s mom sounded so upset and so cagey on the phone and no one was telling him anything.

Marinette bore the burden of sitting him down and explaining. It was a tough choice: she wanted to respect Alya’s privacy, but Alya keeping to herself got them there in the first place. He was her friend, too. She couldn’t leave him in the dark and let not knowing drive him mad.

Maybe not knowing would have been better.

Nino buried his face in his hands. “I should’ve known, I should’ve known, I should’ve known…”

Marinette and Adrien patted his back. “None of us saw it coming, bud. She hid it really well.”

“That’s just it though! I knew something was wrong. And you know what I did? Nothing. Jack lotta good I’ve done as her boyfriend.”

“Nino, please don’t blame yourself,” Marinette pleaded.

“Marinette, she’s been, like, pulling away from me. I thought she was getting ready to dump me, but I got too scared and selfish to see she needed - ”

Marinette grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at her. “It’s. Not. Your. Fault.”

Nino shook her off and walked away. “I need some air.”

Marinette looked at Adrien desperately. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Honestly, some space might help.” Adrien leaned forward on the bench, elbows on his knees and fingers knitted together. “It’ll give him time to process things.”

“No, Adrien, Nino is a prime akuma target right now. That is the last thing he needs today.”

“Oh. Oh shit. Yeah, I’ll go keep an eye on him.”

After school, once he’d made sure Nino wouldn’t blow his lid if he left him alone, Adrien went with Marinette to the hospital. The front desk accepted that they were family without pause; it made Marinette antsy about the security around here.

She turned to Adrien. “Why isn’t Nino coming too?”

“He’s still really upset,” Adrien said. His eyes were sad and kind of hard. “He needs to process and get his head on straight before he tries to talk to her.”

She didn’t reply, just kept walking.

Nora stood outside Alya’s hospital room like a bouncer. “Nope.”

“If she’s awake, it might help her to see a friend.”

“Alya’s extremely sick right now, pigtails. She’s probably asleep anyways.”

Marinette stood her ground. “I know why she’s here, Anansi.”

Nora snorted. “In a hospital? Gee, I wonder.”

“No. I know what happened. I know what she tried to do.”

Nora’s eyes narrowed in obvious fury. She looked between Adrien and Marinette. “Who told you? Did that mangy Mr. Whiskers go blabbing about my little sister?”

“No! No, Chat Noir isn’t like that. I’m the only one he told - last night when he landed on my terrace. Plus, this is the psych ward. What did you think I was going to think?”

Adrien backed her up. “No one should be isolated when they’re feeling like this.”

“Be honest, you two. Did you have any, even a minuscule suspicion that Alya was depressed?”

Shame-faced, they both shook their heads no. Molten coal burned in Marinette’s stomach and her face.

“Then what do you possibly think you could do to help? Please, just leave.”

“But Marinette is - ”

“Adrien, let’s just go.” Marinette gently tugged him away and down the hall. She whipped out her phone and sent him a text.

Marinette: Could you cause a distraction so I can get inside?

Their eyes met. He nodded slightly. He went back while Marinette kept going and turned a corner.

She didn’t know what he did, exactly, or at all. Marinette heard a squeak, some yelling, the pounding of running footsteps, then more people running. Nora appeared, being dragged by two security guards toward the exit. Her face was maroon with fury.

Marinette jogged back to the hospital room door. “What did you do?”

“She was already on edge. It didn’t take much to get her to make a racket.” He shrugged. “I’m not proud of it.”

Marinette reached for the handle. She didn’t turn it. Her fingers hardened into marble around the metal.

A warm hand covered hers (completely covered - his hands were so big!) and Adrien helped her turn the handle and push open the door. She looked at him to find their faces inches apart.

“Good luck,” he breathed. Marinette’s heart ached. She tore her eyes away from his and went inside.

Alya looked like hell. She was buried under a pile of white blankets, lying in a white bed, wearing a white hospital gown. The only color was the red in her hair. Her glasses were gone.

“What are you doing here, Marinette?”

Marinette paused. “I’m not sure. I want to help?” Alya snorted. The sound was sharp, derisive, mean, alien coming from her throat. “I know I can’t. So I guess I want to ask why. Why did you do it? How long - ”

“I didn’t plan it, not really! It’s not like I got up and decided ‘Today is the day I’m going to off myself.’ Something about last night - I ran out of options, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Marinette had no idea what to say. She felt so out of her depth. Alya was experiencing something she couldn’t ever imagine, and that was the understatement of the century.

Alya decided to keep talking, her voice a little quieter now. “I couldn’t sleep so I went out for a walk. I’ve wanted to die so many times, I can’t even count. Usually,” Alya took a shuddering breath, “usually I just ride it out and the wanting kind of passes and I can tolerate it all again. But for some reason I followed through this time.

“I’ve felt like I’m going crazy, Marinette. I can’t make sense of it.”

Marinette peppered Alya’s forehead with kisses. “Of course it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. I love you.”

Alya scooted to her right and patted the bed. Marinette climbed in next to her. Alya took a deep breath then started talking.

“It’s like I’m empty. I feel like everything’s been drained out of me and there’s nothing but a vacuum left inside. And it hurts. Did you know feeling nothing hurts? Everything’s numb but it’s horrible pain like getting slowly crushed under a giant rock.

“In a way I already feel dead. Like I’m a body pretending to be the person I was, just going through the motions. I need it to end, Marinette. I’m so sick of just feeling nothing. The worst part is after finally talking about all of this, I don’t feel any better.”

Marinette held Alya close. “We’ll get you help. This feeling can’t last forever, and we can get you help. Just please, please be patient. And for now I’m just...I’m here. I hear you.”

She’d planned to stay as Alya fell asleep, but Marinette ended up drifting off. When she stirred, her best friend was still breathing.

70 notes · View notes

pffbts · 5 years

Text

↳ bts: the way i see them.

―author`s note: this is a rough characterization which might not all be the real thing. literally, the longest thing i wrote here. even though it was exhausting, i can say i`m proud of myself. i hope you understand my pov for each and every one of them. and if you want you can tell me which one caught your eye the most in my ask box! anyway, happy reading, lovelies!<3

―seokjin

you`ll feel like the luckiest person, i swear.

as if that`s the home you need.

because seokjin is a homebody, as much as i`ve witnessed him to be.

he`ll always cook―yes, that`s his number one business.

he`s not going to let you come any closer to the kitchen or the gas or the microwave even though you continue to plead him that it`s alright and that you can at least make him a nice cup of tea or coffee once in a while.

in return of that he will tell you to treat him with tea or coffee at some fancy café, thus involving the investment of your credit/debit card.

now to the good part: pyjamas shopping

ever heard of that? no, i guess.

but it`s like a free item, or like a compulsory item/characteristic that comes with dealing and having seokjin in your life.

he loves his pyjamas, that`s his ‘loml’

probably owns too many for you to steal and he won`t even notice, i guarantee you.

people usually go for window shopping at some fancy store but kim seokjin will forget about window shopping and enter into the store to buy bear printed pyjamas.

if he`s in a good mood, he`ll probably buy you some too.

he`ll always end up calling you from the other side of the store in that loud, childish enthusiastic voice to see if the pink suits him or the baby blue one.

“which one do you think i`ll look good in?”

“jin, it`s not a suit. just get something that`s comfortable for you.”

“yahhh! i want to be presentable to you. choose one!”

against your wish, he`ll end up buying three sets of pink pyjamas.

you wanted the blue one, btw.

now to the best part of the century: guitar obsession.

literally, i feel like there are not many people who know that seokjin, indeed self-taught himself the guitar during the wings tour.

i, myself was so happy to see that.

he looked so calm and himself when he played it.

tbh if you ever hear him once playing it, you`ll be obsessed.

you`ll drag his guitar every time and request him to play it.

seokjin will be literally standing in his towel, his upper body still wet after the a nice warm shower and you`ll be sitting on your bed telling him to start playing.

your reason: “you look hot. now play me some sexy songs.”

seokjin doesn`t know why but you`re his cutest lil shit.

you never fail to make him laugh out loud or fall in love with you harder than the last day.

sometimes his ears would go red if he continues to stare at you for more than two minutes.

he gets flustered too soon and ends up gathering his composure after too many loud bursts of whining.

seokjin is the type of person to take care of our food supplies, he will not forget to pick you up from your workplace/college on time, never fails to make the most delicious tiffin.

like who even needs canteen food and fancy decorative restaurant food when you have none other than kim seokjin to take care of you.

he`ll be a little savage sometimes but that`s okay―it`s his way of loving you.

at the end of the day, keeping you happy and content is his only business.

―yoongi

uncharacteristic at its finest.

no doubt the reason you`ll fall in love with him genuinely would be because of his uncharacteristic smile―those savouring gummies on display for you to eye feast on.

he`s the kind of person who will be the reserved and shy ones during the first couple of meetings but then as they open up like turning pages after pages in those story books, you`ll end up putting your palm up against his mouth to stop him from continuing his further liberal and capitalistic jokes.

the reason you`ll end up never leaving him because he was holding your hand all the time.

strangely that`s a very cherry on the top situation you can ever encounter with min yoongi

this man, however poised he is, never fails to make you feel special and it`s not like making food for you or arranging your clothes.

but rather he will look into the tiniest details and whenever you`ll scrunch your nose at that eye shadow shade, he`ll jump in from the other side of the room―his thousand dollars headphone around his neck like those three dollars chain (you know what i did right there, yes bye.) and tell you that you look beautiful nonetheless.

you`ll end up having a no make-up look and he`ll still never waver to look at your direction all the time.

he`s just that kind of person―never underestimating the real you and always silently curious of what it is that makes up to you.

the most fun part with yoongi will be napping―yes, i understand that`s the dumbest thing i ever said but see what i`m trying to imply here.

you`ll never be bored because he `ll find some reason to make you feel less bored.

he`ll throw different ideas about how he wants to nap and what he wants to do.

you`re glad that one of that idea actually worked aka napping in different countries.

but it`ll be six hours with snacks spread in front of both of you and yoongi would be lying on the sofa talking like a drunk yet a sane person and you`ll be munching onto the lays while discussing a serious topic of napping.

a very peculiar person but unusually a good peculiar, you see.

for most of the time, he will not give any effort and just silently let you know that he loves you but when he gets loud, boy, does he get loud.

he`ll end up writing 349873897483 songs about you and you`ll never get bored of them cause they`re made with love.

he compares his love for you like poetry―literally liberal poetry.

i`ve no idea how he does that but that man―*sigh* you should be blessed you met him, held him and talked with him because i don`t think you`ll ever regret loving that one man.

―hoseok

hmmm, first of all, figures, sun, laughter.

those are the three things that define jung hoseok of who he is.

also, another word―the much need glucose of my scorching Indian summer days.

alright, that was a phrase.

anyway, hoseok isn`t an easy person.

i can assure you that because the people who laugh a lot, talk a lot and are loud af 24/7 are the ones who hide the most.

it`ll take a lot of sad movies, a lot of sad memories to erupt at the same time for him to tear up.

i guess no one will fucking forget mama 2018.

hoseok isn`t an easy person but he`ll be the easiest one to talk to first.

it`s the understanding part that will take a while. but all that is in the insides.

let`s start with the outside―that is, his bright side.

he`s a dancer, so obviously he`ll be the energy in-between both of you.

sometimes i don`t know why but having him around you will feel like as if he`s transferring bit by bit of his energy into you and soon, you`ll find yourself swaying with that, swaying and moving with him.

that`s where your freedom of laughing freely starts, you`ll throw your hands in the air while he`ll be quick to hold onto them tightly and make you twirl on your own.

he`ll make those sounds as if putting the bgm to shame.

tbh having jung hoseok in your life is like living a constant life on a reel with sounds providing the perfect synopsis to your actions.

he`s like tunes you`ll never end up hating but nevertheless love to hold onto.

hoseok isn`t much of a work freak.

but he`ll be there to make things helpful for you, like if you need help with some stuff―he`ll be always up for some hand.

of course, you won`t have to be worried about the neatness of your room.

he`ll always end up putting things at the right places by the start of your week but will be expecting to meet with a mess of what you`re by the starting of the weekend.

but he doesn`t mind.

seriously, he doesn`t. yes, he does get frustrated but that`ll only show at the point when you both are in a stable relationship with each other. in the beginning i guess, he`ll exhale loudly, sigh a lot while arranging your stuff but he`ll not complain.

even though he`ll nag at the stable point of your relationship, he`ll just try to put things together inside you―sometimes changes are good, right??

also, the thing about hoseok is that―his temper fluctuates a lot.

but just like i said before, he won`t show that much often, not until he`s too much in this ride with you.

if you, by any chance break that tight and taut shell of his then he`ll breakdown a lot.

he`ll let you take a stroll inside his mind and especially his heart.

he`ll start getting raw with whatever he`s going through. but he`ll continue to assure you that he`s still the same happy guy whenever he`s around you

the reason, i guess, he doesn`t show these insides of his is because he doesn`t want you to feel down. he doesn`t want to become a different set of sadness on top of your own.

he wants to keep things neat, bright and vibrant for you.

he would rather be the brightest thing in this room of yours than the moon that gets overshadowed by clouds on some frequent occasions.

to conclude everything, he wants to live happily and he wants you to live happily before both of your time fades away.

―namjoon

*sighs*

a calming yet chaotic person striving hard to let you know that happiness exists in the saddest places on this earth.

yep, that`s what namjoon is.

keeping up with namjoon is difficult because he doesn`t blend in with every situation.

he likes to keep that distance you can`t see with naked eyes.

it would take a few moments for you to understand that this guy isn`t always what he let people show.

just like hoseok, namjoon has two sides of himself but for namjoon`s case, he lives in his insides rather than outsides like hoseok.

he keeps things real, and to do that he writes a lot.

a whole ‘mono’ exists to prove that point.

forget about his use of auto-tune here and there in the songs of that playlist and just go through the words.

he makes you think even though you don`t think that often and he`ll make you google things up to understand the depth of the facts he stated.

he keeps things simple.

from his clothes to his mind―he hates complicating things and that`s such a beautiful thing i can never fully describe you.

he hobbies are simple too―going for casual walks and visiting non-historical places aka parks, lake sides, river sides.

cycle is his best friend. #KimDaily is proof.

physically through a stout man, he doesn`t carry himself like that.

i`m going to say this again and again until you slap me hard but namjoon is a simpleton―he keeps thinking too simply that words don`t get stuck and gets overflowed through his hand.

i personally, relate to that.

but he`s overthinker―strange combination, i know but he thinks and complicates things a lot which makes him frustrated and so he writes a lot.

that`s the exact reason he`s always the one who contributes to the music making of Bangtan a lot more than the other three writers (hoseok & yoongi)

he runs out of words―yes, namjoon do runs out of words. if you watch some of his interviews, he stops and thinks what word to choose at that certain situation.

and you want to know why? because he has too many things at the same time in his mind and sometimes he can`t even pinpoint on single syllable over the other.

keeping up with namjoon means keeping up with his philosophical side too.

you`ll probably end up woke till 4 in the morning because human emotions are a mind-blowing concept to discuss with kim namjoon and sure it is! when it involves namjoon, it`ll always turn out to be the best thing to talk about.

namjoon`s source of entertainment isn`t for everyone.

for me, i think it`s perfect.

library dates? fuck, that`s better than sex.

to love him is to love him with your insides because this man doesn`t believe in the outsides of that person.

he prefers to dwell in the insides and pull out the string which will become the next topic of debate for both of you.

he`ll keep you on your toes when he finishes a book because then he`ll tell you everything about the characters which you, yourself couldn`t find.

he`ll tell you about things you never knew and you`ll realize that he`s by far the best thing after google.

he`s the nerd that is handsome, strong and had beautiful hands which are soft like feather.

so hold onto them tightly and don`t forget to give him his kisses.

―jimin

park jimin, you beautiful creature.

first of all, thank his parents.

listen, this man is the epitome of love.

he has always been that hard-working kid at the front of your class, never getting distracted. always loving what he does at that moment.

his parents are supportive of what he does and he never discourages them.

instead he saddens himself by degrading himself.

nothing makes me happy than knowing that he is in a better place of mind now, that he calls himself cute this days, that he loves the word ‘lovely’ too much.

that he says, ‘i love you’ too aggressively in English these days.

i think smile suits him better than those smexy sunglasses, right?

talking about sunglass―btw, just like seokjin`s pyjama obsession, i think jimin has a knack for buying too many aesthetic coloured sunglasses.

you`ll probably end up buying too many of them too if you ever go out with him.

he`ll always make sure you`re getting enough share of food and everything necessary to survive in life.

he`ll always look out for the time you spend overworking yourself and drag you to take a rest.

but when you do the same, he`ll be like ‘babe, no worries. see i`m so strong!’

he is the kind of person i fucking need in life.

the kind of person who listens and doesn`t stop himself from crying along with you.

he`ll always lend you that undivided attention, that unshared shoulder to lean onto.

he`ll pick up the pieces for you and give you the time and space.

never will he once try to invade a space inside you without your permission.

though a flirty type of person, he is serious too.

he knows when to draw the line and the reason he is like that maybe because he loves skinship a lot.

yep, even though i`m not a big fan of skinship, park jimin sure makes me wonder what`s it like to cuddle for three hours with the loml.

thank you, jimin, now i`m depressed.

i don`t know about kinks that much but park jimin 3873873% has a praise kink.

and sure why the fuck not.

he`s after all a very beautiful, god-like person from inside and out and you better give him some love while passing by the street beside him.

100% shirt guy aka my type.

99.9% of the times that i`ve seen jimin, he`s always wearing light coloured or pastel shaded shirt and boy, he looks so good in them.

he looks better when his hair is half-wet and it`s messy.

he looks more beautiful when his face is bare and his eyes don`t have that perfect eye shadow.

his eye smiles. f u c k.

you`ll end up squeezing his face 23.5 hours a day and he won`t mind because he likes the way your skin feels against him.

also, just like hoseok his temper is very similar too. so i won`t explain much on that cause it`s too similar for me. like, no wonder whoever made them roommates, they know what`s cooking.

you`ll probably end up staying up another night with him watching too many cat videos. it`s thing that come in the whole package so you really can`t avoid even if you`re not a cat person.

on a serious note: the more you give him, the more he`ll cross the boundary of love. he`ll make you overwhelmed and thirsty with the needs.

he`ll not stop until he gives his all to you.

he`ll want you to keep going on with your life even though he knows it`s hard. he`ll give you his voice, his shoulders, his chest to rest for a while―to make you distract, to let you think of nothing but the warmth that radiate through his shirt.

he`ll probably end up loving you more than what`s meant to be and you`ll always end up thinking what did exactly you do to deserve such a precious human being.

―taehyung

i`m really tired but he`s my ultimate bias, the loml so here we go.

wow, i`m already blushing.

anyway, let`s go!

kim taehyung is the perfect definition of loving some fictional character so much that you want them to be real.

he`ll do the most animated stuff in real life and you`ll question your eyes.

but he`ll prove you wrong.

he`ll walk up to you, put on a simple snapback cap and a simple white/black t-shirt and boom! he`s the boy next door or the senior in school you`ve a crush on.

he stops everything from spinning around you and never hesitates to be honest with you.

for me he`s the most inside person ever. more than both namjoon even.

like namjoon can be vocal about his thought a few time but taehyung―no, at least i`ve not seen him much often.

even if he does, he will not talk much about himself.

he`ll try to sidetrack the conversation and make it about more of the others than of his.

taehyung dwells with the insides that continues to remain a secret to me.

if you think about it much harder, we basically know nothing about him apart from his little hobbies.

but the few things that you`ll end up encountering with him are: reading too many manga/comics over time and comparing the number of aesthetic earrings of each other.

taehyung`s wishes and habits are innocent like even though he`s a completely different person on stage.

but we all know that.

it`s because that`s a stage and you can`t just reveal the roughest patches of your character to a whole audience waiting to feed their insatiable hunger.

even though he likes investing in clothes and accessories, he does it to distract himself.

he`s the kind of person who doesn`t go out very often stays up inside his room with a jar of mixed fruit jam and bread on top of the bedside cupboard to diminish the sudden hunger while he`s binge-watching the newest anime.

he`ll end up listening to too many songs at the same time because he`s in that mood.

the one thing i love about him is that he loves to remember the little things that people usually forget about each other or the moment they`re living in.

he`ll remember the feelings, the way his heart swelled up when he looked at you, or the way his mouth wavered when he couldn`t scold his favorite character for doing something foolish.

he loves the little things and for me even though he looks into those details he never judges them.

he will respect you and never discourage you to be what you really are.

he will expect you to do the same thing in return.

dates with him will involves―too many junk foods, too much time to spend in museums and learning the names of capitals, too many time spent in loose clothes.

he`ll always be the type of rather buy clothes online than going store to store for that perfect fit.

also, apart from seokjin, i think taehyung is another homebody.

maybe that`s the reason he knows where to draw the line and never cross what he shouldn`t.

even though he`s a homebody, he isn`t much of a help with household works but tbh that doesn`t even matter.

if you want you can be the mess together. if you want you can spend a whole day cleaning while laughing at each other`s stupid mishaps.

i think those days will turn out well if you resonate enough with him because he`ll make sure to gift you the same resonance.

―jeongguk

will he ever stop being the cutest brat in the whole world?

i personally, don`t want him to stop.

jeon jeongguk, you mastermind of weightlifting.

first of all, being with him mean he`ll definitely use you as a weight lifting object or like being the weight which he can keep up with.

meaning, out 5/7 days in a week, you`ll end up half-asleep at 4 in the morning while sitting Indian style on top of his back while he does push-ups.

he`ll let you sleep for those extra hours later on though.

i mean he grew up well with seven characters inside him.

so basically you`ll find all of them inside him.

being with him is like being with seven men at the same time but jeongguk has his own flavour too.

even though he`ll act like his hyungs, he`ll have you a taste of his own at that stable point of your relationship with him.

first he`ll show you his fun side, his strong muscle side but then as times passes, as seasons come along with the progress of your relationship with him, he`ll show you the bigger picture.

the bigger picture that is him sitting his purple coloured studio listening to the saddest love songs, trying to write the happiest lyrics, eating too many foods as occasional mukbangs.

he`ll end up crying a lot and you`ll end up becoming his side pillow most of the time.

but it`ll be too overwhelming on your side because he`ll become the small spoon and you`ll feel like you`re holding the whole solar system in your arms with hot and cold combined.

like taehyung, he liked storing memories but for him to notice the details takes a while because he`s still a kid and innocent and most importantly, impatient.

he`ll roll the clip for the tenth time and then he`ll realize the detail and when he does, boy, have you seen that smile?

ugh, my chest hurts.

for him, catching details come with the person who holds them. for example, have you seen the way he looks up to namjoon or like how he always gives jimin special attention.

he knows who needs what but he waits for his chance.

sometimes as for his young age, he sure does jump onto the conclusion but that`s just childish and you shouldn`t take that side of him seriously.

clearly, he`s joking.

but jeongguk knows where to joke and where to not.

for me, gguk is the one among all the seven who possess the most flaws.

he has a lot of rough edges and he needs some polishing on that.

but that`s acceptable. he`s literally watching six different types of human being all the time and he`s clearly confused unknowingly whom to completely follow.

so i feel like at some point in his 30s, jeongguk will become what he really is.

for now, he`s young and the youngest of his group so he`ll be okay.

he`ll grow up strong and be the best boy in the world.

so yes, give him the love he needs and never let him stop from showing his true colours because i`m sure, he`s something more than what meets the eyes.

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takaraphoenix · 5 years

Note

Teen Wolf for the ask game please.

Thanks for playing! Ah, I love switching it up a little with some rarer things! *^*

the first character i ever fell in love with: STILES STILINSKI FROM THE MOMENT HE HUNG THERE TO LURE SCOTT INTO THE WOODS! *^* That moment, I knew this idiot boy was going to be mine!

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: Mmmh no not that way around. The other way around though so I will give you that instead. Peter Hale. Pale usual villain first season but then he returned and he became so amusing and fascinating that I grew actually fond of him.

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: Isaac/Stiles, which I used to love a lot but the deeper I got into Sterek and pack-mom!Stiles the more, well, the more I saw Stiles in a mentor/parental role for Isaac and fell off the ship

my ultimate favorite character™: Stiles Stilinski. He is just... so good? He is so funny and wonderful and the heart of this show??

prettiest character: Stiles after he got to grow out his hair. That buzzcut and the childlikeness of season 1 didn’t really work for me but later Stiles? With the longer hair and all?? Yaaas. Dylan is so pretty. *^* // Also Derek Hale whenever he gets to smile because gosh darn it Tyler has the prettiest brightest smile

my most hated character: mmh Jennifer?? Gerard? Kate? This is hard in this show? It has a lot of really good but also really hateable villains

my OTP: STEREK. STEREK ALL THE WAY. Even after this show has been over for years I am still loving this ship a whole lot *^*

my NOTP: oh yeah no Stiles/Lydia most definitely... just... Let Straights Be Friends. Not every boy who is friends with a girl needs to end up with them! :D

favorite episode: Mh, this is hard. I have a real weakness for 03x06 Motel California to be honest, so probably that

saddest death: oooof TOO MANY ERROR ERROR... Seriously though. Erica, Boyd, Allison...

favorite season: Season 2!!!

least favorite season: That absolute shit-fest that was season 5. Like, season 6B was worse but season 6A was actually better than it so overall season 6 balances itself out to not be as bad as season 5. Season 5 was just shit

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: I have come to realize that there are people who are actually fond of Theo?????????

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: lol Peter Hale most definitely. Stupid bastard idiot

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: DEREK HALE!!!! He deserved way better than how this show treated him like hot damn

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: mmmh... maybe a tiny bit Peter/Stiles? But also do not really feel guilty about it so hence the “maybe” because the ~age difference~ and the ~evil bad villain~ I suppose *shrugs*

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: Erica and Boyd?? They were like “cute” but not overly invested in it

#Teen Wolf #Fandom Ask Game #send me asks #geekalert98

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sassysweetstories · 5 years

Text

chocolate & caramel drizzle 2 // Stiles Stilinski Coffee AU

Summary: “Stiles works as a detective that stumbled into a cute little coffee shop / bookstore owned by the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen in his life.”

Ship: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, minor kissing, coffee au, hella cute, etc.

Notes: none of this gifs are mine, credit to owners.

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw@anamcg317bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist@beingmadinwonderland@princessisabelle19 @violence-and-velvet @lachicadelamanzana

Third P.O.V

The next week, the schedule goes as follow. Coffee Bound is opened at it's usual time. (Y/n) humming softly to whatever tune she's chosen. The flow starts off gradually. Then Detective Stiles Stilinski wanders in with a little twinkle in his eyes. He shines brightest when the young man sees the main reason for returning. Her. Don't get it twisted. The coffee is phenomenal. But she's the sweetest thing in the shop, no doubt about it.

Wrapped up in a big sweater and jeans that hugged her waist nicely, he couldn't help but check her out. She was just so cute. And it wasn't like (Y/n) didn't do the same thing when the Detective walked through her door. All eyes were on him, whether he realized it or not. He was the eye-candy of the day, a true delicacy. He looked so damn good in black, especially when he wore a jean jacket to compliment his strong, toned shoulders.

"Morning, Detective. Your usual?" (Y/n) said in a soft almost sultry voice that made him weak at the knees.

Stiles couldn't help but smirk, trying to hide his blush as he retorts, "Morning, Boss. Yes, please. Extra chocolate and caramel, please." He puts out his card for her to take, unable to keep his eyes off her. They walk in time, watching the other with curious eyes.

"So how's everything at work? Anything new?"

She always asked knowing well that he may never be able to give her a real definitive answer but he adores the question nonetheless. She tries more than any of his ex's ever did.

"This job ranges from some of the smallest things to the craziest. There hasn't been anything big as of recently. But doing the smaller cases are still fun, well, interesting more like it. It's thrilling to put the puzzle together and help people."

She loves listening to him talk. Gleaming as his face practically glows with pride. The way he speaks reminds her of how she first felt opening her shop, how she stills feel to this day. (Y/n) leaves her post, quickly replaced and sits with Stiles for their half hour a day morning chat session. But when his watch goes off, is the saddest part of their day. The time both must depart from the other.

"Hey uh-" Stiles stopped by the door, rubbing the back of neck, nervously. "So, (Y/n), I was thinking- uh- would you- I don't know- would you like to have dinner with me sometime?"

She beamed, smiling wide. "I would love that. I'll see you tomorrow and we can talk more about where you want to go."

Stiles eyes go wide, clearly flabbergasted by her response. All his doubt washed away, shocked by the fact the girl in of his dreams said yes to him for a date. He laughs softly, flustered and flushed. "Okay- great- awesome- sweet- I'll uh- I'll see you tomorrow morning then, Boss?"

She bit her lip to keep herself from grinning. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Detective." He tenses slightly and she loves the way it riles him up even more. God how did she get so lucky?

The next morning...

Stiles phone rings incessantly, buzzing and beeping until he finally answers the stupid contraption. "Fuckin' hell, what's so important that you're calling me at five a.m, Andrew?!"

On the other end, Andrew grimaces. "It's about your coffee shop girl.." Stiles sits upright, wide awake with fear in his heart as he continues. "Someone broke into the coffee shop and recked the whole store. She and her co-workers are here downright terrified. It's not some basic robbery. We think someone is trying to attack her. There were strange words outside the windows that weren't smashed in."

Stiles got dressed, listening intently. "What were the messages?"

Andrew sighed, clearly perplexed. "It said, 'He's mine.'.."

Stiles blood ran cold. What if... No.. I can't be..

(I hope you guys liked it! Please comment below, did you like that twist?? Or if you want it to be completely fluff and I can make another version??)

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reginrokkr · 5 years

Note

“People always tell me that I look like I’m not thinking about anything. And sometimes… I think they might be right. I think… I’m really bad at expressing myself, compared to everyone else.” [ :') ]

Amidst an hectic and erratic lifestyle such as Class Zero’s at the forefront of Suzaku’s army forces, student’s life is the most conventional its members could achieve. Far from blood and gunpowder spell that invades senses too tender for war, away from screams and deafening shots more often than not aimed at them out of fear. And fear they should since they were sanctified as red demons, such crude way to dehumanise a group of children uncertain what they’re truly fighting for.

Studying about armament, magic and geography isn’t a far cry from being thrown into the battlefield itself, though Ace’s insatiable necessity to learn beyond those borders expands his horizon–– nurtures an individuality long taken for granted as mere weapon.

Hushed and uncertain voice cuts through the interest of reading classified information of the founders of Suzaku, monopolising the boy’s attention to a much shocking statement. Bathed in the dim light of the rustic candle lamp, Ace turns in his chair and removes his reading glasses from his nose bridge. Thin and long fingers massage over the mark, a showcase for many hours of incessant reading.

“Never pegged you as the type that worries about that kind of stuff.” His gentle voice fills the room’s quiescence, lips curled with slight amusement to lighten the ambiance. Admittedly, Queen never showed an ounce of dubiety in the nature she professes herself to harbour. That was before she opened her heart to him to a reality that consumes her–– understandingly so, for he is the same. Except that he pays no mind to what others believe he is. That same ignorance that shields a tender and sensitive heart.

With peacock’s elegance, legs cross and chin rests atop a loosely closed fist resting unto his thigh. “Hearsay. That’s because they aren’t cognisant of the mental training that requires to be as wise as you are.” Such is the ignorant mind, thoughtless to dig beyond what’s offered on a tray. A soft sigh parts his lips as he straightens, arm resting across his thigh. “Maybe you just aren’t aware of it, but you certainly are expressive.”

To her growing shocked expression, a smile makes its way onto his pale features before gesturing to an invisible pair of glasses he’s wearing. “Every time you’re nervous or under a stressful situation, you do that thing with your glasses. You hold onto them like a lifeline and rock back and forth.”

A low chuckle reverberates from within the confines of his chest at the sight of her flustered face he’s not blind to recognise even with a candle light. “You shouldn’t heed everything people say, even less if they don’t know you. Inexpressive individuals don’t necessarily have a stone cold heart–– or haven’t you heard that even those who smile the brightest might be the saddest?” Delicate features soften with a sincerity not many see displayed in his usually cold, sharp eyes. “Don’t worry about that. I say you’re expressive enough.”

@xiisabre ⭑

#xiisabre #✧･ﾟ*⋆ Let your prayers be heard; the merciful always listens. ┊Ask.┊#✯･ﾟ*⋆ Tome III: Seeking the penultimate truth. ┊Penultimate truth.┊#◟༺✩༻◞ Let your prayers be heard; never cease believing in a miracle. ┊Ask.┊#◟༺✩༻◞ Tome III: Seeking the penultimate truth. ┊Penultimate truth.┊

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x-ange1-dust-x-blog · 4 years

Text

What people don’t understand about a lot of us is that those of us that smile the brightest are usually the saddest people around, but we have to fake these smiles each day because we don’t want others to know how we truly feel or what’s on our minds. Be there for us, it matters.

0 notes

knockoutwritings · 7 years

Text

T.O.P. | SIGNS | ♤ |

♫Two Ravens in the old oak tree One for you & one for me And bluebells in the late December I see signs now all the time

The moon hung brightly in the late September sky. Various stars glittered across the heavens, though their shining beauty seemed to be hidden by the reflection in the city’s lights. It was cold now that the sun was tucked away bringing darkness in its absence. There was a small comfort in knowing he wasn’t cold just because of the ache that currently resided deep within his belly.

Seunghyun sighed out, whether it was in exhaustion or contemplation, these days it seemed to blend in until he felt as his surroundings were blurred images as they passed by.

He took a deep swig of his whiskey, the warm taste recalling a time when he acquired the craving for something other than his usual choices. These days vintage wine didn’t seem to do the trick, and really, he didn’t drink for the taste it anymore.

Having had enough of the frigid air he returned to the confines of his room. The pattering of his bare feet could be heard through the darkness of his private place. The moon was still visible where he now stood and it reminded him of something his blurred thoughts couldn’t formulate properly. It must have meant the alcohol was taking its desired effect.

The rustling of sheets filled his ears and without much care to change into something more suited for sleep, he plopped down on the bed—on your side, because he swore when he was drunk your scent came out more in the pillows. He buried his head in the soft material, losing himself to the memories that scent brought forth.

“I think throw pillow are silly,” you confessed, frowning openly at the obscene amount that took up space in the bed. He only looked at you with mirth in his dark eyes as he took hold of one of the smaller ones, his fingers digging into the firm material as though he were testing it out for something.

“It’s supposed to add aesthetic to the room,” he offered, knowing in the back of his mind that you were right, but choosing not to admit it out loud. You’d told him he would regret them before buying the set yet he hadn’t listened to you because they were replicas of Mondrian’s Composition and loathe to admit it he was obsessed.

It was too much though, even for him. And as he took them by twos, dumping them on the floor, he watched in fascination as you settled onto your side of the bed. You were far more pleasing to see on the mattress than any Mondrian replica he could acquire. Before he knew it, he’d reached over to pull you into him as he laid on the bed, and he relished in the feel of you burrowing into his warmth.

Seunghyun turned over onto his back, rubbing his face with a hand as another sigh passed through his lips. It shouldn’t have been this hard to think of you. Your image in his mind’s eye should have been something uplifting, but all it seemed to do was remind him that you wouldn’t be walking through the threshold. This notion only filled him with a sorrow that made it intensely hard for him to breathe.

And as he fell asleep, he did so with tears pouring down the corners of his eyes.

A bright laugh rang through the air as you ran through the halls with Seunghyun in tow. His eyes shimmered with mischief as he closed the distance. His fingers gripped the back of your sweater, pulling you into him. He knew you’d get annoyed if he ended up stretching the material. Uncaring, his need to kiss you outweighed the aggravation he'd be subjected to. But he must have pulled to hard because just as you abruptly stopped, your legs gave out, and he grew wide-eyed as his fell with you.

He took the opportunity to pull you over him as he laid on his back. Seunghyun scrunched up his nose at the feel of your hair tickling his nostrils. Your warm breath came out in huffs as you placed your hands on his chest, grinning down at him. It left him breathless.

“You’re such a brute sometimes.”

Choosing to ignore you, he pulled you down for a kiss and once your lips touched he ached for more. As his hands traced all the curves of your body, he whispered out how much he loved you, and showed you soon after.

With the new morning now filling the room with light, Seunghyun sat on the side of the unkept bed. He held his head as the hangover drilled against his skull. Deep down, he knew you wouldn’t want him to act this way, but he blamed you for it. You’d gotten him so used to your presence that now it was difficult to fathom he could have in an empty bed where you wouldn’t complain of the abundance of throw pillows, or wake him up with butterfly kisses on mornings you wanted to be in his arms and be dead to the world.

Fresh tears emerged in his dark, tired eyes and he took the blooming ache in his chest as a sign that he needed to ingest more alcohol—anything to numb this reality, one he wanted no part of.

He’d often heard that the brightest people were usually the saddest—they had more reasons to hide behind the façade of a happy face. But Seunghyun didn’t agree. He knew you, and every fiber in his body told them that it was your selflessness that chose to keep him out, not the want of seeming happy. He knew without a doubt that he did make you happy.

It wasn’t enough, he thought.

Grief stabbed him with angry stokes like that of an artist marking a white canvas. Only when these strokes would end, they wouldn’t leave a masterpiece in their wake. Seunghyun would instead be left with gaping wounds no one could see but himself.

He stood in the kitchen now, for a moment not recalling he’d been moving. All he could see was you plopped on the counter with him standing between your legs as he kissed you fervently, deciding that the taste of your lips was far more nutritious than the meal burning on the stove.

If he closed his eyes he could feel you—feel your fingers running through tousled locks of hair as he pressed his hands against the small of your back to feel more of you. He could still hear the whimpers he pulled from your lips when he’d bite down softly on the flesh, smell the perfume that drove him crazy with desire when you’d worn it.

“Fuck,” he moaned out through tears as he gingerly gripped the counter. His throat felt as though it were on fire from the grief he tried to swallow down. Instead it formed a lump and caused the ache to intensify in his chest.

He was much calmer now that he’d showered until the water had grown cold. He’d taken to drinking tea instead of alcohol and that seemed to ease a bit of the nausea he’d had. Granted he wouldn’t have done any of that had Daesung not come in practically bolting down the door upon his arrival. He’d found Seunghyun on the kitchen floor in a pool of whiskey, angry tears blotching up his skin.

The older of the two was far too lost inside himself to really care having witness to such a breakdown, and he knew that Daesung meant well. He didn’t protest when he watched the other man throw all the bottles away. He didn’t grow angry despite wanting to when Daesung forced him to shower because it’s what she would have wanted, he gently reasoned. And Seunghyun listened, because he always listened to you, no matter how angry or annoyed he may have been with you, he always listened. How could he not? He loved you so much, and you’d never given him a reason to doubt you.

As the day progressed, they sat in silence. Daesung offered to play a bit of music but Seunghyun chose not to, fearing your favorite song coming on would be his undoing again.

“She didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to worry,” he’d finally confessed. And this only caused him to smile tiredly. He could feel his eyes grow heavy with tears again as he took a deep, shaky breath.

“She was always so caring about not worrying me,” he managed between shallow breaths. “It’s almost unfair though, because she was so busy not wanting me to be anything but happy, I couldn’t do the same for her.”

Daesung had sat the remainder of his visit beside Seunghyun in silence, an arm around him as the felt his older friend shake with sobs that raked his body.

The next morning was easier to breathe. Seunghyun looked out into the dusk as the Sun began to peek through the clouds. There was a soft calm that had taken a hold of him then. Though he wanted to cry he managed not to. Instead he found himself smiling as his eyes fluttered shut.

During the restless night, he’d managed to dream about you, about your fingers tracing patterns on his skin after making love. He dreamt of you whispering terrible jokes and giggling under the scrutiny of his mocking glare. And despite feeling silly, it felt as though you were still there with him. It was the first morning since the funeral that he could understand what his mother had said when she promised you’d leave signs behind.

Only you could make the morning break through so vividly as it was this morning. And as all the hues of orange, purple and blue began to fill the sky, he knew you’d done it for him. There were signs all around him, and he would take anything if it meant you were still with him.

#bigbang scenario #bigbang scenarios #big bang scenarios #big bang scenario #T.O.P Scenario #t.o.p scenarios #choi seunghyun scenrio #choi seunghyun scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop scenario #k pop scenarios #k pop scenario #wow i'm sry

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themoodykwriter-blog · 7 years

Text

Every Bit of You // Jeonghan (Seventeen) x You Scenario

Requested By: Anon

Request: Can I please request for jeonghan reading your diary and realising that u're really insecure and he addresses ur insecurities and makes you feel a lot better about yourself?

A/N: Here’s one for this precious beauty that is Jeonghan.

List of Groups / Artists / K-Drama Characters I Write For: Here

Masterlist: Here

Contents of Blog / What I Write: Here

To Do List: Here

Jeonghan looks over the mess that is your study table and heaves a sigh, shaking his head in disapproval. He mutters under his breath, wondering how you ever manage to do your work in this mess. Automatically, he gathers the sheets of paper scattered about the wooden space and piles them up before settling them onto the rack he had bought for you specifically for that purpose.

Just as he’s setting aside the books and arranging them, he comes across a book that differs from the rest. While everything else looks like textbooks or study materials, this particular book loos like a notebook, decorated with cute animal-shaped stickers - something you’ve come to like. He scrutinizes the surface of the book, wondering what it is. Curious, he innocently flips to a random page but shuts it right back with widened eyes upon realizing that it’s your diary.

“I can’t read this. She’d kill me!” He exclaims.

“But I saw my name in there,” he whispers to himself, still in shock of his discovery.

“But then it’d be an invasion of privacy and she would definitely be upset with me,” he counter-argues with himself. If he were in public, people would look at him, assuming he’s lost his mind. Well, in all fairness, he is in fact losing his mind because while he desperately wants to read the contents of this diary, he also wants to let you keep your privacy. He tightens his grip on the book, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continues to debate with himself.

After a long while, he sighs and says to himself, “Okay. Just one entry. Read ONLY one entry. Okay Jeonghan? Okay.”

With that, he reads the contents of the page he had previously flipped too, feeling overwhelmingly relieved that you aren’t home to catch him in the act. For once, he’s thankful to your school for stealing you away from him for the day.

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I look at Jeonghan and I can’t help but to feel a sense of bliss washing over me. I don’t think I’ve told him enough just how blessed I am to have him by my side. As much as I love having him around and as much as I love him, I do occasionally wonder why he’d ever fall for someone like me. I’ve tried asking him a number of times but he’d simply reply with, “I just do.”

Sometimes I want to confide in him about my insecurities - the demons I’ve been facing and the battles I’ve been fighting alone. But I’m afraid that his opinion of me would change and I fear the day he realizes that he no longer loves me. I want to always show him my confident, bright self. I want to always be happy around him. I want to always show him that I’m fine, no matter how much that lie hurts me.

I want to break down in front of him. I want to be able to rely on him. I want to be able to cry and be in his arms. I want to tell him every single thing about what I’m feeling. But I can’t. What would he think of me? Would he still love me the same way? He can’t even tell me why or what part of me he loves, how am I so certain his love for me is strong enough to accept my dark side?

I bumped into a girl I knew from high school earlier on and it amazed me how much she has changed over the years. She’s grown taller and her body is so toned that I can’t help but to think less of mine. Adding on to that, her face is so well sculpted - what with her high cheekbones and defined jawline. She had such clear skin. Then there’s her hair. Even from far it looked shiny and smooth. Then I look at myself.

And I see nothing that compares to her. So why me when he can fall for someone like her? I mean come on, look at him. A beauty like him can do so much better.

Jeonghan shuts the book, taking in a deep breath as his mind processes what he has just read. He never knew you have been feeling such a way. You’ve always been so bright, so happy, so independent around him that it never struck him that you’d ever feel otherwise.

“But I guess it’s just a front she keeps,” he says to himself. It still shocks him how he’s been exposed to a whole different side of you and it makes him wonder just how much or even how little he knows you. He thinks back to all the days he’s been with you - just how much lies have you told him about your day, your well-being, your thoughts?

“I’m home,” you call out as you enter the apartment and shut the door behind you. Kicking your shoes off, you place them onto the shoe rack. Just then, you hear footsteps against the marble floor. Turning around, you greet the familiar figure with a smile and he does the same. Enveloping you with his arms, he gives you a peck on your forehead like he usually does.

“Hey love, how was your day?” he asks, his tone gentle.

“Nothing much happened. Just endless lectures,” you pout. “What have you been up to the whole of today?”

“Just cleaning the house. You have a mess for a table,” he points out, chuckling and you do the same, smacking him on the shoulder lightly and telling him that he should know by now how cluttered you can get. That’s when you see something flash in his eyes - a look foreign to you. Before you’re able to ask him what’s wrong, he speaks.

“Shall we have our dinner? I’m hungry,” he pouts, telling you he’s been waiting for you to get back for like, ever. You chuckle, nodding at him and making him beam as he pulls you to the dinner table where he has already placed the day’s menu. You take your seat, smiling up at him.

“You always know just what I like,” you say as you look upon your favorite dishes set on the wooden table. That’s when you see the same look in his eyes from before. Something is off about him and you want to ask him about it but you don’t - you don’t want to ruin the day.

“Hey babe?” he calls out softly as his arms tighten their grip around you on the sofa. You avert your eyes from the television to him.

“Yeah?”

He stares at you for a moment and you watch as he runs his eyes over your face. The corners of his lips tug up into a small smile.

“You know I love you right?” he asks - or rather tells you so.

“Yo never fail to remind me,” you reply. You watch as he pauses, as though he’s hesitating.

“Then when are you going to let me into that barrier of yours?” he asks, causing you to raise a brow.

“What do you mean? I’ve let you in a long time ago,” you answer, earning a shake of the head from him, telling you that that’s not it.

“It’s true you’ve let me in, but not completely. There’s still a circle that you’ve drawn around yourself and it’s only enough to fit you. Will I ever be allowed into that circle of yours?” Upon hearing that, you loosen yourself from his embrace so that you’re sitting upright.

“Jeonghan, what are you on about?” you ask, unable to comprehend his words. He heaves a sigh - Jeonghan has never been good with words. It’s the main reason he has only ever expressed himself through his actions. Usually, they’d be able to compensate for his inability to string proper sentences but today, today he has to fully depend on his words.

Jeonghan has been silent for quite a while now and it’s slowly beginning to make you worried but you continue to wait for him to speak because you know his silence is just him gathering himself. His eyes meet yours and at the same time, he takes your hands into his.

“You’ve always showed me the happiest side of you, the brightest side of you, the best side of you but I need you to know that I don’t always want that. I want to see you saddest side, your darkest side - the worst side of you. I want to know you - all of you. I want you to be able to confide in me. I want you to be able to speak your mind. I want to know your fears, your insecurities. And most importantly, I want you to know that even after all of that, I will still love you. I know I’ve never told you why I love you but I want you to know that it’s not because I can’t find a proper reason. It’s because there’s just so many things about you that I love and listing them would take too long. You’re beautiful in so many ways. You’re special in so many ways. And if you ever think less of yourself, if you ever think that you don’t deserve me, if you ever think that I am better off loving someone prettier, funnier, smarter or sexier than know that no one, and I mean NO ONE, can love me better than you do. Those girls may have everything but they’re missing one thing and that’s the love I have for you. I love you, and I’ll say it countless times. I love you - every bit of you.”

You’re at a loss for words but the tears trickling down your cheeks are enough to speak for your emotions. He doesn’t say anything more but cups your face, rubbing your tears with his thumb as he caresses your cheek. Silence fills the air as the two of you stare into each others’ eyes. Seconds tick by before you finally speak.

“I want you to know just how blessed I am to have you,” you pause, putting your hand over his. “From now on, I’ll make an effort to let you into that circle of mine. It’s going to take time because I’ve never opened myself up completely to people but I’m willing to try. I’m afraid of the outcome of it all but I also believe that it’s the least you deserve for everything that you’ve done for me. I love you too - every bit of you.”

He smiles and whispers a thank you before leaning into kiss you. Today Jeonghan has fallen a little harder for you and today you have fallen a little harder for him - if that’s even possible.

#jeonghan #seventeen #kpop #scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #kpop scenarios #jeonghan imagines #seventeen imagines #kpop imagines #k scenarios #k imagines #korean

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sgtbbvrnes · 7 years

Text

Almost

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: “The saddest word in the whole wide world is the word almost.” Words: 1,601 Warnings: language Notes: v wordy and tbh idk what i’m doing but heyyyyyy at least it’s something 🙂

You’d read a thing somewhere, as one does. Something about almost being the saddest word that existed.

You never understood it. You’d just thought some sad fucker was out there trying to be poetic and all, so you’d disregarded it.

There are many things you don’t understand, is the thing.

You never understood love, for one, not until you met him.

The first time you’d seen Bucky Barnes, he was beating the shit out of a punching bag in a gym.

Sometimes you can’t sleep, and the gym’s tiny and is more of a boxing gym than a gym-gym with fancy equipments and all, and is well-loved by regulars, and it’s open twenty-four hours. So on nights when you can’t sleep, you stop trying and you get dressed and you head down there.

At four a.m., there’s usually no one, apart from whichever employee (who is usually a nocturnal college kid trying to earn a little extra cash whilst doing his homework and/or studying in the middle of the boxing ring because that’s where the light is brightest).

But that night, there was someone else. Someone who was going at the punching bag like it had personally offended them, arms pulling back and then pushing forwards again and again like a well programmed machine.

(And now that you know what he’s been through, you kind of hate yourself for internally comparing him to a machine.)

It starts as any friendship does. You nod, you smile, then you go about your business. The next time, you’re shooting each other concerned glances when you hear the other hit a thing too hard, or with too dark circles under their eyes. The next— you’re asking about each other’s day.

Slowly, you get to know him. Slowly, you think you fall in love with him.

You never really knew what love meant. Not until you actually saw him and you felt all those things that people always wax poetry about.

You feel the tug at your insides, the way you miss him even though you’ve just parted ways, the way your heart starts to race but then calms down and it’s like a damn rollercoaster because he makes you nervous but he makes you feel like you’re at home, all at the same time.

Because you look at him and you see so many things.

You see a young man so broken and vulnerable, but so strong and so brave. You see a man who could’ve just thrown in the towel a long time ago and went home after he got rescued, but he didn’t because he’s so fucking loyal and he’d pretended he wasn’t suffering from mental and physical pain, just to make sure he kept his promise to a dead woman about looking out for her son.

He tells you these stories, fond and smiling and you think you’ve never seen someone more attractive. He introduces you to his friends (he’s only got three that he feels close enough to, the others he refers to as acquaintances) and they welcome you with open arms.

Somehow, you’re integrated into the little friendship group and hangouts and everything.

You find out more and more about him. You listen to stories from his past from himself, and from Steve. You get to hear about him sometimes doing dumb shit out on missions from Clint.

Sam tells you about how he’s going to go bankrupt from how two super-soldiers are eating him out of house and home, and aforementioned soldiers glance at each other with identical glints in their eyes and they laugh and laugh and laugh.

You see Bucky Barnes and you see everything you wished you were. You see Bucky Barnes and you think:

This is it. This is love. I’m in love.

Best part? He loves you, too.

And you’d been unsure before, if you were really in love with him or if you were in love with your idea of him, or the idea of love.

But when you look at him again and he’s smiling, you know that they’re all right. Love’s a beautiful thing. You understand it and you’re feeling it, and it’s messy and it’s... something.

You’d seen another thing— about how your first love isn’t the first person you give your heart to.

It’s the first one that breaks it.

You thought that was nonsense, too, written by a heartbroken author who was just better with words than any other average person. Just like how they always described heartbreak.

You never thought it was possible. You’d always thought everyone was exaggerating when they’d said that when your heart breaks, you can literally feel it happening in your chest. You’d thought it was all bullshit from people who’d loved too hard and given someone else too much control over them.

But now—

Now... you look at him.

You look at him from where you’re leaning beside the elevator doors, and you see him and by God, he is brighter than the brightest sky that you think you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

You see him and you see things that you never thought you would. You see him and suddenly, it all makes sense.

People write poems and paragraphs and sonnets and songs about how some people are stars and how they’re so goddamn special and beautiful that it sometimes feels like their eyes tell a thousand tales and hold the entire galaxy in them.

You’d always thought that was bullshit, too.

But you’re wrong. Because you see it now.

You see it in him, and how he’s so fucking beautiful even when he has dark circles under his eyes and a not-completely healed bruised cheek, but he looks like the only beacon of hope in the darkest of nights and you’re drowning at sea.

Bucky’s got his head tilted back and his eyes are shining, even from afar, and his hands are clutching his stomach because he’s laughing too hard and you can't help but think that you’d be almost perfect for each other, if only you could make him laugh like that.

You can make him laugh, and you make him smile, and you make him happy. You know that. He tells you that when you’re curled up in bed together and he’s clutching onto you like he’s the one who’s drowning, not you, and you’re the one thing keeping his head above water.

But you’ve never seen him laugh like that, not with you.

And maybe it’s a best friend thing. The way that only Steve can get him to laugh like that. The way that only Steve can sometimes calm him down, even when Bucky would silently apologise like it was his fault that you couldn’t get him to listen to you and to calm down. The way that only Steve can make his eyes shine like there are millions of stars trapped inside of them.

The way that Steve is... his.

The way that Steve is the literal other half of Bucky, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The way they can literally understand each other with a single glance. The way that Steve and Bucky claim to be brothers, but you know damn well that it ain’t true.

Not when Steve’s gaze lingers a little too long, and you see them touching each other almost longingly before pulling away like they’re afraid someone’s going to call them out on it.

Not when sometimes, Bucky can’t seem to look at anything else other than Steve’s eyes. And you get it—Steve’s got really pretty eyes—but he looks into Steve’s eyes the same way that you look into Bucky’s.

Not when you know that everyone has someone who is completely perfect for them, and you can see with your very own eyes that that’s them.

You never thought it was legit, but as you watch them—Steve’s lingering touches as he brushes Bucky’s hair back under the pretence of a playful push, Bucky’s eyes darting constantly between Steve’s eyes and his lips—you feel it happening.

You feel your heart break in your chest. It’s cracking, slowly, but it’s cracking, and it hurts, and there isn’t a damn thing that you can do about it.

There’s a thing you’d read somewhere, about almost being one of the saddest words to have existed. You understand what it means now.

You love him. You do.

You love Bucky Barnes with every fibre of your being, and you know he loves you, too. Because he’s always loved deeply and fiercely, and if he never did love you then he wouldn’t have ever led you on, because that just isn’t the person that he is.

You love him and he loves you and anyone who knows about the two of you being together say that you’re really cute together and that you seem good for him and that you’re perfect for him.

They don’t know.

But you do.

So you inhale sharply, pressing the button to call for the elevator and then, as quietly as possible, slipping inside. It’s a goddamn cowardly move and you’re not proud of it at all, but you write a note and you leave it on his bed, and you walk away.

Because they were right. That fucker who was being poetic and sad was so goddamn right.

You weren’t perfect for him. Not because you aren’t perfect (even though you know you’re the furthest thing from). But because—

You were almost perfect for him.

(You think you could have been perfect for him. But it wouldn’t matter, because Steve already is.)

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