#tip tapping on this keyboard for HOURS. i think i started writing the ending at 10 and finished around 5 so

[babymtal]

gilded lily

genre: PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS <3 MAJOR ANGST, VERY GRAPHIC, 18+

warnings: death of two family members, rocky relationship with father, gn!reader is a psychic and experiences visions similar to wednesday, reader x xavier, xavier’s a little bit of an asshole as always, xavier is pining after wednesday when hey! reader’s right there buddy, jealousy, use of Y/N (ik im sorry it’s hard to write over 22k words and not need to use it), descriptive scenes of gore, self harm, talk of mental health, blood, death, suicide, VERY VERY HEAVY on the suicide, ya’ll.

once again this is very graphic and very angsty with a lot of mentions of suicide!

length: 11k roughly, so long i had to split it in 2 parts because tumblr hates me, this is part one, part two is: [here]

note: this is completely inspired by the film “Smile” I just watched it and my brain got to working. This is very long I got super carried away with it but I hope you all enjoy it.

PLEASE do not read if any of the warnings seem as though they may trigger you please and thank you i love you <3

I also ask that none of my work be reposted or stolen xoxo

   Taking a step back from the canvas, you wiped the sticky oil paint from your fingers onto your messy, rough denim apron. Your eyes squinted, dragging along every detail you’ve spent the past few hours brushing into the canvas, before squeezing them shut. A deep inhale through your nose, followed by the hallowing exhale that leaves your lungs empty and desperate. You peeled your eyes back open, trying to look at your unfinished creation in a new perspective. After a few minutes huffing and glaring holes into the canvas, you turned away from the easel.

   The painting was clearly far from finished, missing details you know you will most likely lay restless in your bed late tonight pondering the execution of instead of lulling into the sweet embrace of slumber. The hair of the subject you had painted hundreds of times before, not the exact shade of black you were shooting for, the lips a touch too pink to be accurate, bridge of the nose too wide, not that anyone else but you would notice such small details. You huffed once more as you ripped the apron’s tie from the back of your neck and grabbed your bag that was slouched lazily on the floor near the feet of the stool that was placed between two easels; one belonging to you, the other to the man you’ve grown close to during the days you've spent at Nevermore.

   His hair was tied back into a bun, pieces slipping from the hairtie’s hold and falling to frame his face. He wore a long sleeve ruby colored shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The jeans that he wore to the shed were always adorned with splashes of color from him rubbing paint off on them, but this evening his presence was cut short. You almost didn't notice his phone ding from the small circular stool it rested on between both of your figures. He was quick to pick the phone up and reply to the text, his bottom lip pulled under his teeth as he bit back a small smile. He had rushed out with an excuse and side hug shortly after and you knew immediately the source of his abrupt departure; Wednesday Addams.

   The beginning of your walk back to Nevermore was nothing out of the ordinary, only the sound of your heavy shoes against the uneven stone path and a few leaves crunching here and there. You were tired, mind slowly lurching with thoughts about the world around you. That was until the increasing gnawing feeling in your mind started ringing bells in your ears: you’re being watched. Suddenly, every step forward you took was becoming increasingly faster. The wind was starting to become cold, chilling your face and burning your throat raw. More leaves began to fall the faster you ran, the tree branches singing an ominous tune to you as the wind swept harder and colder against their bark.

   You tried to keep your eyes forward, catching sight of the stone walls of Nevermore. Waves of nausea hit you as you pushed harder, forcing your legs into a sprint. You're being watched. Static was everywhere, all you could hear, see, taste, it invaded your senses until everything suddenly went silent and you hilted to a stop. The wind had abruptly ceased, your mind blanking as you stared down at the ground around you, leaves piling more than ever. It had only just begun to shift from the blazing heat of Jericho summers into the coolness of fall. But the trees had beautiful shades of green to them, full of life when you had entered these woods hours prior, you had remembered that much. Turning around, bewildered, you looked up at the tall, naked, dark trunks and weak branches, empty of all greenery.

   Only then had you realized you made it to the entrance of Nevermore, ears now picking up on the loud chaos behind the doors that lead to the middle grounds of the campus. You reached for the gate door, hesitant from the fog clouding your mind. You shook it off, finally breaking through the entrance to find groups of students huddled, some entangled in teary hugs, others holding hands, frowns stretched on their faces. All eyes fell on you at the sound of your entrance. Your eyes scanned until they found the familiar ones of Enid, hers red, teary, and swimming with desperation. “Y/N, it’s your brother. It’s really, really, really bad this time-” she cried, using the sleeve of her striped blazer to wipe her nose before continuing, “He kept talking about how there’s some ghost, or whatever, threatening him! He’s gone crazy, Y/N, saying it wants to kill him and move onto a new victim or something. You have to talk to him! Please!” her frail hands gripped onto your sleeves and she shouted, pleading eyes boring into yours.

   “Thank you, Enid. I’ll talk to him.” Your lips pressed into each other as the force of your emotions bubbling up caused your throat to squeeze, mocking the burn and ache of being choked. Your gaze lowered, even as you passed by Xavier, who reached a hand to rub your back only to fall short of contact with you as you walked past him with no acknowledgement. The entire campus seemed to come to a dead, eerie silence after Enid had spread the word to her peers that you would talk your brother out of whatever “freak meltdown” he is having. Your boots made deep, thundering thumps against the staircase as you ascended to his doorstep. Your faux confidence of the situation faltered, fist shaking undoubtedly when you raised your hand to knock on the door. You retreated, taking a step back and breathing so deep you could feel your lungs push against your ribs. A piercing, high pitched ringing sound in your ears, mentally blinding you. Your body tensed, head flying back, air being knocked from your lungs, head straining from the sudden forceful lack of oxygen.

   “What the fuck are you?” he screamed, sobs racking through him uncontrollably at the horrific sight before him. You watched from the side in fear as the being took its large, frail fingers and dug them deep into its face. Wails of pure fright ring through the dimly lit room as the towering monster was carefully curling its fingers in the tissue and muscle, ripping its skin from its place to reveal a bloody, fleshy assortment of teeth and tissue.

   Coming back to your senses, head falling back to place, you grounded yourself, looking around the entrance to your brother’s room. Dahlias in a woven basket at his doorstep, a gift from you. You smiled, remembering the glee on his face. “My favorite flowers!”, he’d say. Taking the second of peace to digest all that you saw moments ago you came to your senses, fear ghosting over you at the sight of your brother’s fate.

   Nodding to yourself, you straighten your posture before confidently knocking on the wooden door in a pattern of three. You hear the door locks unlatch as you move to turn the doorknob. “Y/B/N?” you call, eyes scanning the room until they land on his hunched figure, head fallen, elbows perched on his knees as the palms of his hands dug into his eyes. “You can’t be here, Y/N” he said, voice void of all emotion. “I just need to be by myself for now until this… this thing finally gets the fuck away from me!” he exclaimed, body rising from the bed and arms flying out around him to project his statement. Tears continuously shed, trailing rivers down his face and dripping down onto his t-shirt. “I don’t know what it wants from me, Y/N, please! No one will believe me! I’m scared! What the fuck is it?” He screams, staggering slightly in your direction in desperation, his eyes searching for comfort and validation. 

   “I don’t understand, Y/B/N, what’s going on?” you questioned, taking a step towards your brother. Suddenly the air felt as if it had shifted, temperature lowering and the static-y feeling returned. The room spun around you for a moment, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek, the taste in your mouth bitter as your eyes fell to the broken vase shattered on the ground that once housed the flowers your father had sent him when he couldn’t, again, visit you both here at Nevermore. All the hair on your body stood at attention when you lifted your head to see your brother smiling back at you, demeanor completely flipped from his teary eyes and sorrowful frown just moments ago. His eyes held no emotion, blank, pupils dilated. His smile was so large and prominent it strained the muscles in his face so hard his cheeks wrinkled, some of the bunched skin around his cheekbones dimpling. His lips were cracking from the stretch of the dry skin over his teeth.

   The sight froze you to the core, feet planted in their place, adrenaline thumping loud in your ears. Only then had you looked down at his hand by his side, a large piece of glass being wrapped around his large hand so tight it drew blood. His stare never faltered from yours as he rose the glass in his hand to his face, resting softly against the apple of his cheek. Your cries and pleads to stop were caught in your throat, fear paralyzing you physically and mentally as you watched him, your breathing halted and eyes unblinking.

   Only when the glass had broken skin, crimson spreading across his fingers and cheek as he dug deeper and deeper, did you let out a gasp. You tried to move- do anything- to push his hand away but some mental block was keeping your feet planted right where they stood on the dark wooden floor. His cold eyes shot hot, blazing lazers into your face, desperate to make contact with yours that were locked on the glass shard he held. He paused briefly, taking a second to let out a relieving sigh you wouldn’t have heard if the silence in the room wasn’t so deafening. He suddenly pushed the glass deep into his face, breaking skin and drilling deeper before dragging the glass to rip through layers of skin downwards, pushing his closed fist harder and drawing more blood as he sliced down his cheek, jaw, and across his throat. His hollow smile stayed cemented across his bloodied and torn face as he toppled forward, knees hitting the ground before his face smacked right before your shoes.

   The air was thick, so thick you couldn’t inhale, the burn in your head and lungs was crashing on you. All of your senses heightened, you could feel everything in the room. Your eyes were hypnotized into staring at his piercing eyes and wide, chilling smile. You could hear the sounds of people walking just outside the door, in halls of the dorm, a few feet from where you stood. The putrid must of all the blood clogged your mind, the crimson fluid pooling around your boots. A sudden ring of your ears tipped you over the edge, barreling you back into reality; your brother’s bloody, creepy, smiling dead face was staring back up at you from the ground it rested on.

   A booming, near deafening wail sounded from the depths of your throat. The horrific sound caught the attention of others passing outside the door, Xavier and Ajax barreling through with a few other classmates to find the scene. The adrenaline had drained from you fully, the pulsing behind your eyes consuming you whole. Many emotions hit you at once; grief, despair, confusion, anger, horror, and agony all swarmed into one big stormy cloud that hung low above your head the past few days of experiencing your brother’s concerning behavior. But watching him gleefully slit his own throat in front of you had this large storm cloud suddenly pouring down cold, harsh, splitting rain and booming with loud thunder that shuddered across your nerves, lighting sorrowful fires in their wake. Tears flooded your eyes but you couldn’t scream anymore, wail floating away from your lips, trailing to a deafening quietness. The sight of his slashed throat and eerie smile was violating your brain every time you closed your eyes.

   Xavier rushed to reach for you after he gained his own composure, pulling you away from the scene and out the doors, into the fresh air of the courtyard. The sudden change in environment left you dizzy, scrambling to the nearest trash can, nausea devouring you as you spilled your guts into the garbage. Xavier held your hair with one fist, his other hand pressed soothing circles into your back. Snot was dripping from your nose, tears pouring out onto your cheeks, over the bridge of your nose, and into the trash as the bile kept rushing from your mouth in waves. Once you had puked all the contents in your stomach and wiped your face, you straightened your back, exhaling shakily, clinging onto some kind of composure.

   “Are you okay now? No more throwing up?” He leaned down to connect his line of sight to yours, irises scanning over your face, his eyebrows scrunched, wrinkles showing concern, confusion, and remorse. His nostrils flared as he let out heavy huffs.

   You nodded weakly, staring back into his glossy, wide eyes. The tears adorning yours hadn’t stopped flowing since they began, wetting your face and the black shirt you wore.

   “What the fuck happened to him?” He questioned, hands locked on your arms as if he was scared you’d start running like a frightened animal. You could see in his eyes that behind his composed and calm face he was terrified of what he just saw. A good friend of his lay on the creaky, wooden floor in an ocean of his own blood.

   “I- I don’t know. I went to… to talk to him, like I told Enid, and then- then he started shouting for me to help him and that he was scared but he didn’t tell me what it was before he-” you trailed off, the words getting stuck in the back of your throat in bile laced, mucus-y clumps.

   “Before he what?” Xavier pressed, thumbs digging slightly deeper into your elbows.

   “Before he slit his throat in front of me.”

   You swallowed the giant lump in your throat after frantically barking the response back at Xavier. His face completely fell at your reply, eyes darting to meet yours. “I’m sorry, he… he slit his own throat? In front of you?” Xavier’s voice was wavering, fighting to get through the statement. All you could do was nod in return. He ran a hand over his face harshly as he exhaled deeply, murmuring a quiet, exasperated “oh my god” before nodding to himself and returning his attention to you.

    “Let’s get the blood off your shoes before Weems comes for you.” He deadpanned, grabbing your bicep in his grasp and dragging you behind him.

﹋﹋

   “I’m really sorry for the incredible loss you have experienced today. Nobody should ever watch a loved one die before them, especially not in such a disturbing manner.” Weems cooed, voice laced with sympathy. She nodded at you, giving you a sympathetic, tight lipped smile. 

   Her face suddenly beamed, “-and your cooperation with the Sheriff today is greatly appreciated, Y/N-” She paused, taking a drag of the cigarette that was wedged between her two manicured fingers. Her eyes searched your emotionless, deadpanned ones before she continued, “That being said, if you need anything at all I ask you to confide in me.” “Thank you, Principal Weems, but nothing you can do can fix this right now.” you sneered, eyelids lowered to show how unimpressed you were with her woeful act.

   Her eyebrows bounced upwards, face momentarily showing her shock of your dismissal. She smiled a bit harder, chuckling lightly as if what you had said was funny. 

   “Is there something you didn't mention to the Sheriff, Y/N?” She suddenly spoke, voice turning cold. Her face dropped to a straight, serious one, the dim light of the fireplace casting across her face. Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes squinting in her direction. You were taken aback, called out on your bluff. She smiled for a second before speaking. “Y/N, I know what happened to you today is not easy, but we need to know what happened. The Sheriff needs to know everything from the moment your brother began to lose his mind until the second he dropped dead at your feet. How did he go from being an ace student, full of ambition, to misbehaving, causing scenes, to killing himself in front of his own sibling?” You sat in the chair across her large desk speechless, unsure of what to say.

   “Why did Y/B/N kill himself, Y/N?! Why would your own twin brother slit his throat in front of you?” Her frustration bled through more each word that left her mouth, her hand slamming down on the desk in front of her. Her nostrils flared before her eyes met yours.

   Your deadpanned act faltered, huffing as you slouched deeper into the chair. “In short, Y/B/N and I had found our mother after she had committed suicide when we were young and that incident dominoed us to this. It was earth shattering for both of us. And when our father was arrested for murder it broke Y/B/N. He looked up to him, idolized the man. But- but no matter the situation Y/B/N had never talked about killing himself.” You began, taking a deep breath and grounding yourself before continuing, “Around a week ago we know he was the only witness in the incident of the man in Jericho killing himself in the street. Since then, he had started acting strange. More and more people were coming to me, telling me he was losing his mind. Constantly talking about some ghost, or something, following him everywhere. That no one but him could see it. He said it was threatening him and when I had gone to his room he was shouting the same thing to me. Then suddenly it felt like someone else was in the room, like, someone, or thing, other than Y/B/N.”

   Your gaze drifted up to meet Weems’ as you paused your story. Searching for some sign she believed you, but you came up short. “His face was… terrifying. His eyes were so cold, dead almost. Like there was nothing there anymore. And he…” you cleared your throat, voice wavering into silence as his face flashed in your mind. Weems’ head tilted, her sign that she was listening. You breathed through your nose. “He was smiling.”

   “Smiling?” she allured, eyes begging you to continue.

   “It wasn’t just a normal smile. It was like it took up his whole face. It was horrifying. Like he was looking right through me with this giant, creepy smile painted across his face.” You voiced. She had sighed, placing her hands delicately on top of another in her lap.

   “It sounds like your brother was really struggling with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and experiencing delusions, Y/N. I'm sorry you had to be present during his final moments spent in delusion. I'm sure it's hard that the last memory of your brother was to see such a strong figure in your life in such a vulnerable position. I think it would be best if you took a week away from classes.” Weems spoke, voice soft and almost genuine. You shook your head, gaze falling to your lap in disbelief. From an outside view you could see why people took your brother’s pleas for help for delusional outbursts, but you knew him better than anyone else. Y/B/N was never suicidal, always the light and breath of fresh air of everyone’s day when he graced them with his presence. He was the direct opposite of you; doting, ambitious, headstrong. You wanted to believe he was delusional and move on from replaying the scene in your head over and over again but something is gnawing away at you, begging you to believe your brother’s claims instead. And you do.

﹋﹋

   You spent the rest of your night tucked away in your bed, the foot of your mattress being occupied by nearly a dozen books you had stolen from the Nightshade library. You focused intently on scanning each page briefly looking for anything related to what this situation could mean. The calming scent of the old book pages eased your fired up nerves, your mind freeing itself from everything but the task at hand. After a couple hours and being half way through the stack of books you snuck into your dorm, a knock on your dorm room door snapped you out of your little trance. You grabbed a blanket from the couch perched against the wall near your bed and threw it over the books, covering the incriminating evidence enough to answer the door. You made your way to the entrance, unlatching the lock and pulling it open by the handle. Xavier stood there, dressed in a plain green long sleeve shirt and pair of gray sweats. “How shocking the most horrific, traumatic thing happened to me today and you still somehow show up at my door like always,” you mutter, face erased of all emotion as you peered up at him, “Not sure if you noticed, Xavier, but I’m the farthest thing from in the mood for your games.”

   “Actually, I just wanted to come check on you before we have to return to our dorms for the night.” He sneered, eyebrows knitted together in a slight scowl. He pushed past you, letting himself in. You rolled your eyes, shutting the door behind you as you followed him into your room. He stood at the foot of your head, leaning on the bedpost as he angled himself to look at you. 

   “Seriously, how are you doing? You can talk to me, you know.” His eyes reflected the dim, yellow light of the lamp perched in the corner of your room. Your cheeks were on fire under his gaze as you move to settle back to your previous position at the head of the bed. You definitely couldn't tell Xavier about all that was swarming your mind, fear of his dismissal and rejection cementing your words where they bury themselves in your mind. As you seated your body relaxed, muscles slightly untightening, and posture loosening. So badly did you want to mourn your brother, do the entire crying for a month, go through the 5 stages of grief, get his name tattooed or a necklace with his name on it or whatever people do, and figure out what the fuck you’re going to do now- but it felt as though your body was carrying you through these motions of needing to find information. Something in you knew that there was something evil twisted somewhere deep beneath this all. Eyes scanning the soft blanket draped across your bedding, hoping to find the words you needed in the woven linen below.

   “Xavier- I’m fine. Really. I haven’t exactly... digested everything yet. I’m kind of in autopilot mode right now if that makes sense.” you opened up to him, not exactly giving him the rundown. He nodded, muttering a sympathetic “I’m sorry” before moving to sit in front of you on the bed. As his butt met the hard covers of the books under the blanket he instantly sat back up, confusion written on his face. He lifted the cloth that was thrown over your bed, ripping it off the surface to reveal the old, musty books. He sighed, confused, eyes bouncing between the books and you perched innocently against the pillow, legs folded beneath you.

   “And what is all this?” He gestured his hand out to the books, looking to you for an explanation. You gnawed on your lip, debating whether you should tell him the truth or not. You’ve sorted the pros and cons of letting Xavier in on the scary details of your life as of recent but you knew he would never believe you. Why was it that everyone else around you was set dead on the fact your brother had just inevitably lost his fucking shit? What was it that made you completely contest them, fully investing yourself into the depths of your brother’s crazed pleas for help that fell on nothing but deaf ears, besides your own. Whatever it was, Xavier didn’t belong in this plan, that was obvious. “I was just… curious is all.” you nearly whispered, voice quiet in the tension filled space. Xavier’s frustration ached through him, bleeding into the air around you. You shrunk under his gaze, feeling his eyes judge every inch of your face, eyes wide in shock as if to give you a look that said, “You’re joking, right?”

   “Curious about what exactly?”

   “You heard everyone… Y/B/N had talked about something haunting and threatening him! I just wanted to look and see if maybe this had happened to someone else is all. It’s really not a big deal, Xavier.” Your voice raised in defense, desperately hoping Xavier would understand and validate your reasonings.

   “He was crazy, Y/N! I know it’s a really hard pill to swallow and you haven’t gotten there yet but he lost his mind. You’re not the only one here hurting or who had to endure his psycho behavior the past few days. There is nothing going around haunting people. If there was, don't you think we would have heard about it? Please, just stop. Take time to actually digest what happened and don’t go driving your own self crazy trying to find an answer to something that doesn’t fucking have one!” He yelled back, frustratingly waving his hands around, exaggerating his feelings.

   “Crazy?” you spat, “Y/B/N was not crazy. And how can you even say this when he literally died hours ago? Are we all supposed to just move on because oh he was just a psycho who just lost it?” You tried not to tear up, truly you did. But the bubbling water in the heated metal pot on your metaphorical stove continue to swirl, bubbles of hearing your peers so casually dismiss his death boiled up, rising until it inevitably boiled over the sides. 

   “You know I didn’t mean it li-” He began to rebut but you cut him off, “Get out, Xavier. Please.” you pleaded, pointing past him and at the door. He looked at you in complete disbelief before his face hardened, shoulders shrugging.

   “Y’know what? Fine.” He sneered. He shook his head at you, eyes never leaving yours as his bottom lip caught between his teeth, before storming out the door, slamming it shut behind him. You cleared your throat when silence filled the room after his departure. Gathering yourself, you reached for the next book perched on your bed in the “haven’t checked” pile, opening the cover and flipping through the pages.

   “Just because they don’t believe you doesn’t mean I won’t,” you whispered to the large room before you, hoping your brother was somewhere, creeping along the walls, listening to you.

﹋﹋

   Your body ached as you woke the next day, the sun beaming through the long, dark curtains that adorned the big, circular window above your bed. You turned to check your phone, screen lighting up a mocking 12:33 PM. Your eyes closed shut in annoyance, groaning as you dropped the device down on the mattress below, arms and legs stretching out, a few joints cracking in the process. You sat up in your bed, throwing your legs over the side forcefully. Slowly coming out from beneath the veil of your sleepy fog, you could now feel the deep, twisting knots in your shoulders, the weight of the trauma now proving heavy on your mind. 

   After scanning through all the stolen Nightshade books last night but one, you came up short handed. Most of the pages were adorned with information and drawings of witchery, large monsters, and deadly diseases none of which mention the symptoms you were looking for. You piled all the dead-end books into two piles on your duvet, leaving the lone, untouched book to the side. Getting ready for the day, you pulled on your uniform before gathering the stacks of books in your arms, making your way to the Nightshade Library. 

   Stares and murmurs were thrown your way as you walked through the courtyard. You tried to keep your head low and sight to the ground in front of you but you instinctively looked up, searching around you eagerly when the sound of your brother's voice called your name from afar. You halted at once, now twisting around in circles to fully scan the small crowds of students around you, all of which were already staring back at you, their faces ranging from one of sympathy to another showing confusion. Some people were turning to look around thinking something had happened, others watching you desperately and half-hazardly scan the faces around you, anxiety radiating off you. 

   The slight sound of your name yet again being called by your brother has you whipping your head in the direction it came. His figure met your gaze, sitting perched next to Ajax’s and across from Xavier’s, the wind in your lungs became chilly as you watched every peer in your vicinity suddenly fall to silence, conversations dissipating, before turning to you slowly, facing you with large, straining grins and wide, glossy eyes. Their faces were so morphed they were nearly impossible to differentiate from another. Your brother’s the only familiar one in the ocean of tight lipped grins. 

   “Holy fucking shit,-” you rushed, air around you feeling incredibly thin as it rushed past you in small gusts. “-fuck, fuck, fuck, no, please. No.” You begged, eyes finally focusing, taking in his sliced, cheery face, wounds flowing like rivers of crimson onto his uniform below. When you felt a shoulder hit yours, the abrupt contact snapped you from your hallucinations. Your books stayed snug between your forearms and chest, unmoving from the disruption. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, your eyes both dropping a singular, puffy tear as you caught your footing. Just as soon as you came forth from the trance, you were now stomping one foot in front of the other, determinately treading through the courtyard, no regard for whoever had even bumped into you. 

   Quickly, you snuck into the darker halls of the campus, looking around you as you made your way to the entrance of the library, doing your best to snap twice with your arms preoccupied once the coast was clear. Your speedy return of the books and escape went smooth, now hastily making your way back to your dorm where you plan to stay the rest of your week, hopefully unbothered this time. 

   As you passed through the courtyard you see Xavier sitting at the same bench with Ajax and now Wednesday Addams, his attention on her and her deadpan face that stared back at him with no emotion. You quickly diverted your attention to the ground ahead of you, walking a bit faster to avoid any confrontation. You dryly laughed at the thought, as if he could even bring himself to stop staring at her and see you rush by him in a frenzied manner. You continued marching to your dorm, heart thumping painfully with jealousy to the beat of your footsteps. The way he looked at her made you want to throw up. His eyes so entranced while looking at her, the pretty near-death looking girl with braided pigtails. “Whatever,” you thought, rushing to twist the knob once you reached the door. 

   With an end to the successful, yet concerning, Nightshade Library trip you shut the door to your dorm, leaning your back against it and slouching once you had realized you were finally alone, shut away from the world. Pulling the heavy blazer off your shoulders and undoing your belt, you sighed contently at the feeling of your body becoming unrestrained by the thick material of your attire.

   “Stupid fucking uniforms,” you cursed as the clothing hit the floor. You stayed in your tank top and lazily changed into a pair of shorts. Your butt hit the mattress clumsily, eyes fixating on the wall in front of you. Despite the rest you had just awoken from not long ago you could feel exhaustion seeping out of your every pore. Everything just ached. Before you could think too far into your emotions, a chill ran over your spine. You let a shaky breath out, feeling the air around you shift, something sinister now lingering around. Your gaze had yet to leave the wall, suddenly feeling a pair of eyes lazering into the side of your head. Your body froze in fear at the feeling. You’re being watched.

   Willing yourself to move, you turned your head to look to the corners of your dorm room. First one empty, second empty, third empty, you held your breath impossibly harder, hearing the blood rush to your head in loud, pulsing waves. Your head turned impossibly slow and you caught a glimpse of feet in the darkest corner of your room. Your exhale caught in your throat at once, goosebumps rising across your arms and legs. Your eyes trained onto the familiar boots of your late brother’s. “No, no, no, no-” Your eyes slowly looked up, grazing from his boots, up his blood covered jean adorned legs, and the white wife-beater that was completely painted red, save a few areas. Your heart began to race, fear and adrenaline flowing through you. Finally looking at his face you flinch- despite seeing the face so many times. The chilling, teeth-y smile that strained his face, the soulless eyes. Only this time your stomach twisted unnervingly, mind entranced by his eyes.

   “Y/B/N?” you called, not expecting a response. Everything around you began to blur, faint faces appearing in the smudges of color that once was your room. You whimpered, fear consuming you as you began to lose sight of reality around you.

   “I’m sorry,” you heard faintly whispered into your ear, as if the person was right next to you. You gasped, head twisting to find the owner of the voice, to no avail. You shuffled back on your bed until your back hit the headboard. The faces quickly multiplied around you, the colors sharpening and refining back into your walls, desk, couch, and floor. Your eyes widened, a scream of horror erupting from you as you looked around your room, psychotic smiles and ghostly, empty eyes staring through you everywhere you looked- even under you in the bedding below. Your brother stood in his same place at the corner of your room, smiling at you unmoving. Tears crept up into your eyes, the faces around you feeling as though they were vibrating your body, shuffling forward as though they are closing in on you.

   “Why are you doing this?!” you screamed, eyes unable to pick one face to stick to, a whine of despair leaving your lips, gaze fearfully roaming the different pairs of eyes etched into the walls and flooring. Your knees were pulled to your chest, feeling small and vulnerable in the sight of so many eyes. The silence following your outburst overwhelmed you more, the fear of not knowing what is going on enough to drive you mad.

   “What the fuck are you?!” you hollered louder, voice straining with fear and anxiety. “Stop staring at me!” you pleaded, covering your face with your trembling hands, the stare and smile following you in your mind when you closed your eyes.

   “No!” you shrieked in horror, “Please!” your voice getting caught in hiccups and sobs as you bawled into your palms, the eyes becoming increasingly wider, smiles growing in size, overwhelming you until everything stung. When suddenly, it stopped. All that was left was a buzzing in your mind and dead silence before Enid and Ajax were suddenly kneeled in front of you, fear in their eyes and concern plastered on their features.

   “Oh my god, Y/N, what happened? Why are you bleeding?!” Enid shouted, panicking at the sight of the deep scratches on your neck, face, and chest. They both pulled you into a standing position, each hauling an arm over their shoulders as they dragged you to the infirmary.

﹋﹋

   After a night in the white, bland room with no visitors or texts even the morning following, and Enid avoiding you like the Black Plague as you walked across the courtyard and out the large doors leading outside the campus, you can officially say you definitely feel like are losing your mind. The gaze of your peers once welcoming and warm, eyes shining with greetings to you, were now frightened, hesitant to disturb you in your clearly disheveled state. You had time in the stiff nurse’s bed to rethink the things you saw in your dorm room, your eyes never leaving the view of mountains in the distance as you recalled the incident. Those faces were haunting, smiles so large, big empty eyes piercing through you as if they wanted to devour you. You realized these faces have to be what your brother was talking about when he had talked about the ghosts, or whatever, that were haunting him. So whatever this thing is has been passed on from your brother to you. Great. Realizing how incredibly unrealistic that all sounded left you with a lump in your throat, brows twitching.

   Only then, when you glanced down at your hands in your lap for the first time, did your eyes widen, this time not with horror or tears. This look was one that announced the bewilderment that exploded in you. Your hands sat laced together in your lap politely, unscathed, not a drop of blood or ripped skin in sight. The skin was smooth and clean. These scratches weren’t caused by you, no way. A couple hours of check ups and talking to the nurse about self harm later, you were dismissed. You tightened your coat Ajax had gone back to your dorm to get when they brought you in around your body as you walked through the chilly forest to the art shed you and Xavier have inhabited. 

   Though only a couple days had passed, the weather had changed drastically, abruptly chilling over and darkening, the clouds turning from a pure white to a dark, stormy gray, and the greenery around quickly shriveling to small branches and a satisfying crunch of the dead leaves beneath you as you continued along the path in thought.

   You weren’t expecting to see him when you opened the shed door, actually, you knew he should’ve been in one of his classes right now. His focus quickly diverted from his painting to the shed door opening. When his eyes locked onto yours, his glare softened. “Y/N,-” he paused, looking at you, taking in your dark circles and the small bandaged cuts that accompanied your face, “I wanted to apologize for what happened a couple nights ago. I just got frustrated because I’m scared for you.”

   “Scared for me?”

   “I’m scared you’re going to end up like your brother and mother, Y/N. Really, really scared. Enid told me what happened last night. Why did you hurt yourself like that? She- She said you were screaming and crying.” His wide eyes searched your face for a reaction, but you stayed stone-faced, speechless.

   “I’m not crazy, Xavier.” you pressed.

   “I didn’t say that.”

   You scoffed, not believing his dismissal. You wanted to confide in him and seek his help, but his eyes felt as if they were seeing through you, judging you, putting you down. “I don’t know what happened, okay? I just got really emotional and kind of blacked out and when I came back to it Enid was taking me to the infirmary. But not once did I harm myself! Look at my hands! Nothing is wrong with them! I swear I didn’t do this to myself but I don’t know what did. Listen, I- I just really miss Y/B/N. I’m trying really hard to stick this through, Xavier, but in the past eighteen years of life I spent with him we had never been apart for longer than a full 24 hours,” you sighed, hadn’t giving yourself a chance to go through these thoughts with yourself prior to this vulnerable confession, “so please excuse me if I’m not handling the fact I’ll never see my brother, hear his voice, or hug him ever again very fucking well.” You spewed, emotions bubbling over and forming into sharp dagger that pierced right through Xavier. You pinched the bridge of your nose, the heavy weight on your back feeling as if it had gained a couple more pounds.

   “Hey-” he called, moving closer and grabbing your wrists, bringing them up to his chest. His head tilted down to meet your gaze, “We’ll figure this out, okay? Day by day.” He smiled warmly at you but seeing his grin just made your stomach drop painfully in a fit of terror and disgust. You plastered a fake smile on your face, masking your horror. “Of course. Thank you,” you replied in faux sincerity, breaking away from his grasp to set your coat up on the jacket rack. 

   He smiled to himself, feeling relieved that you opened up to him, or so he thought. He resumed his place at his easel, paintbrush in hand, focusing on the canvas in front of him. Securing the tie of your painting apron around your neck and picking up your favorite paint brush, you finally peered up at the artwork you were eager to resume. You stepped back, startled, a yelp releasing from your mouth at the sight of the now altered portrait. “What?” Xavier quickly rushed to your side, looking at the painting you were working on. “Wow,” he gasped, “This one’s really going to be beautiful. I think it’ll be my favorite. You’ve never painted her smiling before. She looks a little creepy right now though, but once you paint some life into her this’ll be a masterpiece for sure.” He noted, brushing your odd reaction to your own painting off, and going back to his own creation once more. 

   You watched, mouth still slightly agape, as he settled back to his painting before turning your attention back to yours. The grim portrait of your late mother that you had replicated many times was not how you had left it.

   You stepped toward the artwork once more, analyzing it. Most details were the exact way you left them; straight black hair framing her supposed to be woeful, beautiful face and body dressed with a dark red, velvet dress that framed her shoulders and collar bones. Even the background was the way you had created, dark curtains flowing behind her elegantly, but her facial expression was now eerily replaced with one of the faces that had been haunting you as of lately. Her dark eyes peered back at you, an unsettling grin grazing her features. Your mother’s face looked cold and scary, almost demonic. Her painted gaze drew you in, hypnotizing you until all the air was knocked from you, body tensing, head flying back. The paintbrush was dropped to the floor with a clack. 

   Y/B/N had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, sobs wracking his skinny, frail body as he pleaded for mother to wake up. You gazed up at your brother bawling, eyes trailing to her still figure laying on the bed. Her eyes wide, dead, staring back at yours with a smile on her face. Suddenly, she rose with a loud gasp, your twin brother now nowhere to be seen. “Y/N…” she sang, looking at you. “What the hell is going on?” you interrogated, urgently needing an answer to all this. She tsk’d at you, shaking her head at your impatience. “There’s only one person who you can go to for that,” “Who?” you pressed. “Your father,” She turned to look at the other side of the room. Following her gaze, now appeared a younger version of your father, eyes wide and teary as he stared at your mother in fear and despair. His sobs and cries for your mother echoed through the room, “No! Why?!”

   Air filled your lungs at once as you came back to reality. Xavier had his arms around you, holding you up, looking intently at your face for signs of injury. You peered back up at him before realizing the position, quickly scrambling out of his grasp. He cleared his throat, scratching his neck.

   “A vision? What was this one?” He innocently asked.

   “The ghost has something to do with my father.” you replied. He pursed his lips, nodding. His eyes squinted as his gaze faltered from you to his coat, having an internal battle with himself. Why should he stay here and have to listen to the same things your brother was spewing days before his death? He couldn’t bear to watch you, the person he’s been longing for for years, who was the strongest person he knew, now falling down the same path their late relatives walked not too long ago. Fetching his coat and phone from around the shed, he shuffled around some more, throwing his coat on and zipping it up, before calling out a quick, “Be safe walking back,” as he left, shed door slamming against the wood frame. You looked around the shed, confused as to what just happened.

﹋﹋

   “You said if I need anything at all to come to you, and now that I am you’re denying me?” you questioned, scoffing at the situation. “You're asking me to arrange for you see your father, who I remind you, you haven’t seen in nearly half a decade and is being held at the county prison for murder!” She exclaimed, arms raising in disbelief.

   “My brother just fucking killed himself and all I want is to talk to the last bit of goddamn family I have left!” You shouted back, anger coursing through your nerves. You were tired, scared, and felt completely isolated. Dejected, you lowered your voice to pointedly ask, “Is that really so bad, Principal Weems?”

   She squinted her eyes at you, releasing a defeated sigh, and picking up the small office phone in front of her on the large desk, pressing a few keys with her manicured nails before raising the phone up to her ear. Her unimpressed gaze stayed glued to yours in what felt like a stare off, your eyes boring into one another’s. After a few rings, her demeanor completely switches, a smile spreading over her milky face and voice smoothly raising an octave, contorting into a more calm, almost soothing replacement.

   “Hi, yes this is Principal Weems at Nevermore. Could you be a doll and transfer me to the warden?” She politely requested, humming cheerfully into the phone at the response on the other line. “Thank you!” she quipped. A fake smile and a nod of your head was sent her way as she rolled her eyes at you, clicking her tongue.

﹋﹋

   Your nerves were at an all time high, hands shaking, and knees slightly wobbly as you walked down the long corridor to the big metal door you were directed to by a guard. You took a second to close your eyes and gather everything you had planned to discuss in your mind before you signaled for the guard to open the door for you.

   He followed in behind you, taking his place right next to the now shut door you had just walked through. You sat down at the large, metal desk that stretched wall to wall with glass dividers separating you from the other side. As you peered up, you caught your father’s eyes and the wind got stuck in your throat. Just looking at him at first glance, you could see he was a grieving, miserable man. Deep sunken, tired eyes, hollowed cheeks, wrinkling skin. “Haven’t seen your face in a while.” He spoke calmly, “I thought it was your brother visiting me, not you”, leaning his elbows against the surface in front of him. “What happened, Y/N? What are you here for?” his face nearly drooping, fatigue lacing through his features and voice. You never visited your father during his time he was serving here. You couldn’t bear to confront that part of your life, deciding to neglect it completely and move on. Seeing your father’s despair in person is exactly what you had been spending years avoiding.

   “What happened after you watched mom kill herself?” You questioned, lips pressing together from nerves. Your eyes made direct contact with his, unwavering. Looking at him made your stomach feel as if it was eating itself, the twisting nearly unbearable. He sighed deeply before cautiously saying, “Do you really want to know?” You nodded at him hesitantly, determined to get at least some kind of answer to this giant question mark plaguing your life.

   “Okay, well, when your mother killed herself, she was completely out of it. We began to argue every time we were around each other. She had claimed she saw faces that were threatening her. I didn’t believe her at first, you know, that’s crazy people talk.” He stopped to lean back in his chair, eyes glued to nothing in particular, mind lost in thought, trying to recall everything. “A week before her suicide she had watched a pregnant woman walk into oncoming traffic. Killed herself and her baby right in front of your mother. It completely wrecked her.” He eyed your face for a second, watching you tilt your head slightly to encourage him to continue his story. “That night she was having another episode. She was screaming, begging me to help her. I didn’t know what to do.” His voice trembled slightly, recalling the memories. “I’ll never forget the horrified screams she let out and the look of fear on her face and god, when she shot herself in front of me that night… her smile.” He hesitated, looking around the table as he tried to gather his thoughts into words, “It was terrifying, Y/N. I still see it everytime I close my eyes. And… and then I began to experience the exact same visions your mother had. The faces followed me everywhere, I was having hallucinations of your mother everywhere I went.” When his eyes finally met yours and you saw the pure fear and grief in his eyes that mirrored yours, you nearly broke down.

   Tearfully, you admitted, “Y/B/N… He killed himself 3 days ago. I had gone to check on him because he had been acting so strange the past week. He was describing the same things you said mom described, the- the faces, the haunting, and-” you breathed deep through your nose, gaining your composure as you watched your father’s face crumble into one of pure grief at the news of your brother’s passing. “When I went to check on him he was- he was there… and then it was like suddenly it wasn’t him anymore. And- and when he killed himself he uh-” You stopped to catch your breath. Your father was sobbing, chin in his hands, eyes still trained on yours to let you know he was still listening to what you were saying. He sobbed harder, harshly coughing in between sobs.

   “He slit his throat in front of me while smiling.” You stated after a moment of silence, tears flowing and composure crumbling, walls falling brick by brick. Your father caught his breath enough to finish your story for you, “And now it’s passed onto you.” He watches you nod meekly, hands coming up to roughly wipe the tears from your face. He shut his eyes, exhaling deeply. “What did we do to deserve this?” He pondered to no one in particular, head rested back to look up at the ceiling. “Y/N, there’s two ways this will go; you either wait for this… this disease to kill you and pass onto someone else or you kill someone.” his voice lowered into a quiet whisper you could barely hear, depending mostly on reading his lips through the glass between you. You choked on your spit, sputtering at his claim.

   “I have to-?” “Yes. And it has to be meaningful. It has to be in front of someone as well. That’s how it passes. Someone has to witness it. Its source of power is trauma.” His voice remained low and firm during his lecture. “You choose to die or rot away in prison for the rest of your life, and I’ll be honest with you, Y/N,”

“Every day I wish I had let it take me.”

 ﹋﹋

   The visit with your father had left you distraught, broken pieces of your heart just cracking into tinier, weaker pieces. Guilt swam through your bloodstream, sadness creeping in your chest that you had waited so long to see your father again. Knowing that would be the last time you saw him, you wept as you said goodbye to him, both of your hands pressed to the glass. You continued to cry as you exited the prison, mind beginning to dissect the information he had given you. Years ago, your father had worked for Nevermore, holding painting classes for students at the time. He told you about the blue book found in Nightshade’s library that he found information from where he had learned his escape from death. As he described the book, you knew exactly where to find it; your dorm room. 

   Your feet hurt from the fast, powerful walk you took across Jericho to get back to campus. Your mind was racing with your lack of time and options as you beelined straight for your dorm; either let this consume you until you kill yourself in front of someone and pass this thing onto whoever the hell they are or find a way to kill someone else. You finally arrived at your door, relief washing over you. Twisting the knob, you entered your dorm, pushing the door closed by leaning your back against it. You opened your eyes to reveal Xavier, Enid, and Ajax sitting on the small couch and bean bag chair in your dorm. All of their eyes shifted to you at your arrival.

   “Y/N hey… come sit,” Enid says, patting the empty spot on your couch next to her, hinting for you to take a seat.

   “What is this?” You questioned, unamused. Ajax and Enid shared a look between themselves at your question. Xavier cleared his throat, body leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs as he looked up at you through his hair.  “An uh… intervention? I guess?” Xavier said, looking to Ajax for support. Ajax caught on, pushing his shoulders back to confidently add, “Yeah, we’re just really worried about you, Y/N.” Enid smiled at his confession before turning to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. “We want you to talk to us. You feel so far the past couple days.” Her voice muffled by your shoulder. “Are you serious? An intervention? And at 10 at night? Guys, I’m not crazy!” you jumped from your place on the couch, voice raising. “Shhh, please. No one is calling you crazy. Just sit. We care about you.” Xavier tried to reason with you, eyes pleading for you to just comply.

   The air around you budged suddenly, air thinning and burning your throat with every panicked gasp you make. “No,” you plead, “Please no, fuck, not now!” you screamed. Your mind was racing, the familiar goosebumps rising across your skin. All you could think of was Xavier, Enid, and Ajax. They needed to leave. Your breath became harder and harder to catch, sight becoming drastically tunneled from lack of oxygen. What if this was it? You peered down at your shaking hands, desperately trying to calm your staggering breath. When your attention focused back onto the trio sitting in your dorm, they were already staring back at you, wide smiles and big eyes. A scream ripped through your throat at the sight, stumbling a bit back.

   Xavier was the one to speak, voice monotone and deep, “Your time is almost up,” he stated, that dreadful smile never leaving his face. All three figures stood at once, surrounding you as they continued to stare, moving in closer and closer. Scared, you back up until your back hits the wall, sliding down until your knees are to your chest as it heaved, hyperventilating as you stared back at their soulless eyes, unable to look away. Ajax moved his hands to his face, fingers gently placed under the lash line of his eyes. “No!” you screamed, “Ajax please!” He laughed dryly behind his teeth, gaze not once faltering from yours. The sound of him ripping his skin from his face so close in proximity to you chilled you to the core, paralyzing you. You screamed in terror, watching his face hang like curtains from his chin where the mutilated skin stay attached. Underneath the veil of skin was a mushed assortment of teeth, tissue, flesh, and blood. With his lower eyelids ripped from his skull, his eyes bulged as they peered down at you, unblinking. You sobbed, shrieking for help. Blood from Ajax’s deformed and mutated face was dripping onto your skin and shirt as he stood towering over you, his smile nearly doubled the size, yellow, decaying teeth hypnotizing you, making it impossible to look away or blink.

   A sudden gasp has you clutching your chest, lungs burning and eyes flooded with unshed tears. Blinking, they tumbled down your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt. Xavier’s shouts startled you out of your trance, “Hey! It’s okay! Oh my god!” His hands rested firmly on either side of your face as you swallowed deeply, eyes flickering from Xavier’s in front of you to Ajax’s who stood a few feet away, cradling a crying and startled Enid in his arms. Ajax’s face was contorted into one of concern, fear, and as you peered a little harder you could see the suppressed disgust he felt as he looked at you.

   “Hey, man, I’m gonna get Enid out of here. You okay?” Ajax called out to Xavier. Xavier turned his head to Ajax, jerking his head to the door to silently signal it was okay for him to leave. He led Enid out of the dorm, closing the door softly on the way out. Xavier returned his attention back to your trembling form when he heard the lock click shut. He sighed, shaking his head, “What am I gonna do with you?” he rhetorically pondered. You stayed silent, body still shuddering with fear as you watched Xavier’s eyes look at yours, searching for what you’ve been hiding. 

   “Do you have any idea what just happened in the past- I don’t know- like two minutes?” He asked, head tilting to the side to gauge your response. You weakly shook your head no, gaze falling from Xavier’s, jumping from corner to corner to ensure no one else was with you in the room. At this moment, you could no longer find the energy to care about what you had done during your episode, just that Xavier finally hears you. The pressure of all of this was weighing down on you, driving you insane. If it was the last thing you did, you were going to warn Xavier of all this. Truthfully, the fear of him being the one you pass this curse onto was growing like a wildfire in your chest, squeezing and burning your heart at the mere thought that he would be the next doomed suicide victim. “I’m ready to be honest with you about everything Xavier- but you have to listen to me.” You commanded, voice sharp. “I swear to you, Xavier, I’m not crazy. Please believe me,” Reaching out, your hands rested on his shoulders. He nodded softly, whispering a soft, “Go ahead.”

   So you told him everything. Starting from the beginning with your mother and father, how your father escaped the curse by killing someone and he was now serving a life sentence, about your brother’s descent into madness after watching a man in Jericho kill himself, about everything your brother had said during his last days before he killed himself, the information you’ve gathered about this curse, the visions you had at your brother’s dorm and the shed, the talk you had with your father at the prison, the hallucinations, how Ajax ripped his face off in front of you, the smiles, everything.

   Silence was not a strong enough word to describe the eerie, deafening stillness in the room between you and Xavier after you had concluded telling him all you could. By now the sun was just now peaking out from the mountains and trees, slowly shifting the dark starry night into hues of dark purples and pinks. Xavier used the moment of peace to gather everything you told him in his mind, a headache bubbling behind his eyes. After long, tense moments of silence, he finally moved to speak, “I believe you, Y/N.” he started, “really, I do.” His hands held yours in his as he looked into your eyes. You let the breath you didn’t realize you were holding escape your lips at his reassurance. You rose from your spot abruptly, “oh, yeah!” you exclaimed. You quickly sauntered to your bed to grab the nearly forgotten book. The cover was exactly as your father described.  You brought it back to the couch Xavier was now perched on, sitting close beside him as you began to flip through the pages of the book.

   “And this,” you motioned to the large book in your lap, “-according to my father, contains some information about this curse. He said he didn’t have enough time to research further before he was forced to kill that man.” You trailed off, eyes catching Xavier’s. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing your head to his chest before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know now isn’t the best time,” he paused, “but, god, I really hope we figure this the fuck out.” His warmth lulled you to relaxation, eyes closing and breathing in through your nose, Xavier’s cologne filling your senses. 

   “Me too.” you replied, but you’re unsure if he heard you.

#it is currently 5:30 AM I just finished writing the ending to this #Will be edited tomorrow perhaps #This part is very time skippy but I swear the second part is like two povs at same time and everything idk just expect more bc i was #tip tapping on this keyboard for HOURS. i think i started writing the ending at 10 and finished around 5 so #yeah #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagines #wednesday #wednesday show #xavier thorpe #angst #wednesday angst #fandom x reader #dahlia.wrks

[svngiem-remade]

CRAVING YOU | hjs

🧸 pairing. han jisung + gn!reader

synopsis. work, barely eat, repeat. your boyfriend's routine hasn't been the best lately, and you missed him, so a surprise late-night visit after the end of your shift seemed like an amazing idea to spend some time together.

🌙 wc. 1.6k | au. idol!au; established relationship; fluff; suggestive

How much time had passed since he had properly slept? A week? Two? Maybe more - he couldn't even recall the softness of his bed or the taste of something that wasn't instant ramen or iced americano. He just wanted to abandon all of his duties and go over to your apartment to cuddle with you until late afternoon, but all he could think about were the borderline catastrophic consequences if he actually decided to do that.

First, he had so many college assignments to complete, and he wasn't even halfway finished with them; all he did for the past hours was open a new document, write the title, a couple of keywords and... nothing else - his brain was completely fried, but still, he couldn't take a break. A few days ago he promised Chan to listen to a track he had recently made and fix it, since the older one couldn't pinpoint exactly what he didn't like about it and wanted an outside opinion. Plus, a really important exam was due in a couple of days, and fuck did he not feel ready for it - when he tried quizzing himself he just stuttered and trembled nervously, everything he studied flying out his open window.

If all this didn't already feel heavy enough on his shoulders, he also hated how much he had been neglecting you lately, who had been nothing but understanding with him. You were just too sweet for your own good and he almost felt like crying whenever you sent him selfies, updates on what you were doing that day and encouraging messages every few hours. He craved your presence so much, it hurt him physically.

He sighed and shook his head, realising he had been wasting too much time overthinking. He gazed at the little clock on his laptop's display, which signed 4.26 am, and immediately got back to work, deciding to switch to fixing Chan's track - just thinking about going back to his assignments made him want to throw up. He plugged his headphones into his laptop and started playing the song, which surprisingly had very relaxing and soft tunes. Shit, this isn't good. He already felt his eyelids getting heavier, no matter how many sips of coffee he had drank or how many times he had rubbed his eyes, and without even realising, he fell asleep on his chair.

With that, the tapping sound on the keyboard was replaced by quiet snores, and the faint relaxing music kept playing on repeat in his ears, which prevented him from hearing his vibrating phone on the desk showing his incoming messages.

[5.02am] — hey baby, would you mind opening the door? I'm freezing here [5.05am] — u there? [5.06am] — I really hope ur sleeping rn and not blatantly ignoring me. Sorry in advance for taking ur spare key. See u soon ;^

You quietly opened the door and stepped into the dark living room, almost tripping over one of the boys' shoes while trying to get yours off. After calling them all the names you could think of mentally, you finally walked towards your boyfriend's room, pouting when you noticed the light was on from the bottom of the door. Is he up again at this time? He's so getting yelled at tomorrow.

“Baby?” you whispered while opening the door as slowly as possible, taking a peek inside and almost melting when you noticed a sound asleep Jisung on his leather chair looking extremely fluffy, cuddly and adorable.

Tip-toeing inside his room and closing the door behind you, you took out your phone and sneakily snapped a picture of him, deciding to set it as your background later. You smiled and set the food you made for him on his desk, admiring his relaxed and peaceful expression, before deciding to wake him up - it mustn't have been comfortable sleeping in that position, most likely with an empty stomach, you thought.

You started pecking him softly all over his face - first his fluffy cheeks, then trailing up to his nose and forehead while taking his headphones off and stopping the music, “Ji? Love? Come on, wake up. I brought you homemade food.” you murmured when he wouldn't budge. You frowned and stood up straight again, running your fingers through his blond hair mindlessly while thinking of a way to wake him up.

You grinned and turned to the containers full of kimchi jjigae and bulgogi which were still hot, and opened them to let their delicious scent reach him - and it, unsurprisingly, started to wake him up. He stirred and stretched before opening his eyes fully, looking around confused until he saw you hovering over him, which made him widen his eyes. You saw him pucker his bottom lip as if he was going to cry at any moment, sliding even closer to you with his chair and hugging your torso tightly. “I'd get up to hug you properly, but 'm too tired to do that, 'm sorry.” he groggily mumbled against your tummy, pecking it all over.

Giggling at his cuteness and the ticklish sensation, you ran a hand on his cold bicep and the other over his cheek “Doesn't matter baby. I missed you so much. Just seeing you is enough for me.” you said, looking at him when you felt him staring up at you.

His eyes were teary as his hands pulled you even closer, making you stand in between his open legs, “I missed you much much more, but aren't you mad at me? I'm so sorry for negl-” he started saying, but you immediately stopped him.

“I'm only mad at you because you haven't been sleeping or eating properly, Ji. I know what you have to do is important.” you stated, stroking his cheeks and hair gently. “How about we catch up while you eat something? I made all this for you and I'm afraid it'll get cold if you don't dig in soon.” you suggested when you noticed his gaze was still unconvinced, though fortunately he smiled widely and happily took up on your offer.

Sitting next to each other on his bed, you stared at him as he stuffed his cheeks with the food you made, feeling extremely happy since it seemed like he was enjoying it “Is it any good, baby?” you asked, and he turned to look at you with the most offended face you'd ever seen him wear.

“Are you kidding me, jagiya? This is amazing! You know I love your cooking as much as you.” he sang, making you chuckle.

“Maybe more, since you woke up immediately when you sniffed it with your cute little nose, but you wouldn't budge when I tried to wake you up with my kisses.” you teased, feeling kind of sad at your failed romantic awakening attempt. He pouted and put the almost empty container on his nightstand while gulping down whatever he was munching, shifting closer to you and kissing your temple lovingly as an apology.

You felt your cheeks warm up at his sweet gesture, though you brought your knees in front of you to ball yourself up and rested your head on them with your head turned towards Jisung, who was staring at you, “Go kiss that bulgogi, you seem to like it more than me anyways.” you joked.

He furrowed his brows and scoffed “That's not trueeee, stop itttt.” he whined, lightly pushing you.

“It is though.” you grinned as he rolled his eyes.

“No, it's not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“NoOooOoOo.” he kept whining, and you giggled, not realising he was now hovering over you.

“Y-.” before you could finish, he pressed his lips against yours, successfully shutting you up, his warm and skilful lips making you forget about what you were talking about. Jisung moved his hands to the back of your head, gripping your hair gently while you stretched out your legs to get more comfortable, stroking his cheeks and waist in the meantime.

He swept his tongue on your bottom lip slowly, as if wanting to taste you after all that time spent apart, before finally pushing it between your parted lips, causing you both to moan. No matter how many times you had already kissed, made out or made love, it was never enough - the more you did it, the more you craved one another.

You let out a needy whine when he pressed his weight on top of you, which ignited the fire inside of him even more, as he slid a hand under your sweater to touch the body he'd been longing for for weeks, ecstasy clouding his mind. In between the kisses that were getting sloppier and messier by the minute, you mumbled your worries, “Mmh, baby, you need to sleep, you're exhausted.” but he couldn't care less - he needed to feel you close.

He scowled and pulled you closer, moving from your lips to your neck to start working on painting the blank canvas with his loads of love bites, “Don't wanna.”

Moaning when he started suckling on your sweet spot and running his big hands over your sensitive body parts, your will to actually make him stop and go to sleep started quickly drifting away “I'm not here to tire you out even more. Plus, what if you fall asleep in the middle of it?” you breathlessly said while he removed your sweater.

He playfully bit your now easily accessible collarbones before leaning slightly back and looking you deeply in the eyes, adoration mixed with mischief and lust pouring out of them “Mh, I promise you I won't, baby.” he winked and dipped his head down to continue his mission to make the both of you feel good to make up for lost time.

Maybe he really did love you more than bulgogi, after all.

please reblog, comment and like, feedback is very much appreciated, plus, I love reading your thoughts!

→ masterlist.

© SVNGIEM — do not copy, translate or claim as your own.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz hard hours #skz soft thoughts #skz fluff #skz han #stray kids han #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #han x you #han x y/n #han x reader #skz jisung #jisung x you #jisung x y/n #jisung x reader #jisung scenarios #stray kids jisung #skz soft hours #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids fluff #han jisung #kpop imagines

[jadekitty777]

The Emotionalist: Chapter 2

Will I write anything else but this this week? Maybe. Probably not.

Prompt for Day 3: Sunset

Rating: T

Word Count: 1K

Summary: Clover Ebi was a huntsman who, like most Atlesian soldiers, hid most of his emotions behind a mask of calm professionalism. That is, unless, one knew where to look. And Qrow looked a lot.

Or, 5 times Qrow learned to read Clover’s mood not from his face, but from his ears. [An adjacent story to Hunting Season Hunting Season; events from Qrow’s POV]

Ao3 Link: Dragging Like the Tide

~

Clover’s office had a very nice couch in it. 

The soldier had admitted he didn’t know where it had come from, just that it had shown up when he had asked for the arrangement years ago. But of course Atlesians wouldn’t just send him any old thing. It was one of those luxury pieces that was probably made by some famous artisan using the finest wood, material and stuffing available, with a plush, deep, forest green exterior and oak accenting along the arm trim and legs. 

Not that Qrow had room to complain as he was currently the one lounging along it like a lazy cat, scroll held aloft as he virtually duked it out with Ruby in Ninja Wars V. Between matches, he would glance back at Clover, somehow finding him buried in more paperwork than when he’d looked last. Not that he needed the visual to know he was still working. With the game music muted, the clack-clack-clack of keyboard keys was the only soundtrack he had.

When he’d first dropped in, Clover had agreed to go for some evening tea with him in the mess hall. Something soothing to wind down with. Maybe they’d even watch the stars from the windows, like they had been from the rooftops for the past few days.

“Just give me five minutes to finish these reports.” Clover had promised.

That had been a half hour ago.

Qrow tapped insistently on his controller for another combo and struck the final blow. The victory screen flashed with ‘Soaring Ninja Wins!’ for the twelve time that night.

He swiped out of the game and pinged his niece, Ready to call it quits?

Just because I am sleepy does not mean I am defeated old man!

But yeah, Weiss is complaining about the noise.

See you tomorrow!

Night kiddo.

His arms dropped, resting his scroll along his stomach as he tipped his head back.

Immediately, he noticed that Clover’s demeanor had changed. Not in his expression - that was still set in deep concentration - but in his ears. They were slanted downwards, tips pointing towards his shoulders.

The last time he’d seen something like that had been shortly after their encounter with Robyn, wherein Clover and Blake started debating the state of Faunus socionomics. In the end, Clover had backed down, ears falling in resigned defeat.

Much like they were now.

Not that Qrow was… keeping a catalog or anything.

“You okay Clubs?” He called.

Clover glanced away from his computer, the unnatural glow of the screen making his skin appear ghastly pale. “Huh? Oh yeah.” He ran a hand down his face, eyes rolling back towards the screen. “Sorry, these reports are taking a lot longer than I thought.”

“Is there something troubling in them?”

“No more than usual, why?”

Why indeed. Qrow knew ‘because you seem upset’ could be taken wrong in too many ways; especially, if that then led to him admitting he was trying to read Clover by the positioning of his ears. 

Qrow was proud to say he wasn’t that stupid.

“No reason. Just figured that was what the hold up was.” He said instead.

There was a distant hum, then Clover shook his head. “No I think I’m just-” He trailed off, raising a hand to his mouth as he yawned widely. As he did, his ears stretched backwards before falling back down where they’d been.

If being cute was illegal, Qrow was pretty sure the other man would have been convicted for unintentional murder twice over by now.

“Mm, well I was gonna say tired, but I guess that’s obvious now.” Clover joked, shooting him a sleepy smile.

Thrice over, his seizing heart corrected.

He rose from the dead just enough to manage, “Maybe it’s time to call it a night?”

“No, no. I’m almost done. I just need-”

“Five more minutes?” Qrow guessed flatly. 

Clover flushed, averting his gaze to the pens lined along his desk. “…Sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long. You can turn in for the night if you want.”

Well now, that just wouldn’t do.

Abandoning all hope on their original plans, he gave a loud, dramatic sigh, before hopping to his feet. “Chamomile or ginger?”

“Huh?”

“Your tea.” He explained patiently, arching a brow. “Which one do you want me to bring back?”

Slowly, realization dawned.

Then Clover gifted him with the sweetest smile, as he replied, “Ginger, please.”

“You got it. I’ll be back before you can miss me.” He accented the words with a wink, purposely sashaying his hips as he headed out of the office.

The second the door swung shut behind him, Qrow lent heavily against it, hand on his chest as he tried to calm his sudden cardiac arrest.

War crimes. He decided on finally. Clover’s cuteness was guilty of actual war crimes on his heart.

Unbeknownst to the metaphorically dying huntsman, on the other side of the door, seen only by his own reflection in the monitor, Clover had buried his blushing face in his hands, squealing quietly to himself.

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2023 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

[sevmch]

hq boys when you pepper them with kisses bc you're sad

characters: kenma, akaashi, kuroo

warning/s: none

genre: fluff, comfort

a/n: here's some fluff bc i think ive been writing too much angst lately aksjdkhskshs

kozume kenma

you were sitting next to kenma, staring at your boyfriend's face that had his game face plastered on his features in full concentration. you watched in silence as he played, cheek leaning against your palm.

this wasn't new, in fact, most of your time spent at his place were usually just you doing your own stuff while he played. you didn't really mind, wanting to just be around kenma and feel his presence.

he also loved having you near him, you knew that. but sometimes, especially when you're feeling down, it felt as if he didn't care a bit like right now. kenma cared a lot but he's no mind reader, so he doesn't exactly know you're upset because you failed one of your exams today.

but you really wanted to be close to him as some sort of comfort, so you moved away from the desk and lean towards kenma, resting your chin on his shoulders and catching him give you a side-eye.

"what're you doing?" he asked, focused on the screen again, fingers moving swiftly against the keyboards.

you shrugged, sighing deeply. "nothing."

"okay."

pouting at his lack of response, you placed a quick peck on his cheek. his brows jumped, the crease in his forehead disappearing for the first time tonight. you planted another one and another one and another one, soft and brief and lazy. kenma moved his face towards you when you stopped for a second due to the discomfort creeping up your neck from the position, your boyfriend whining at the sudden loss of contact.

now it's your brows that raised, not really expecting for him to ask more. he leaned closer, tilting his head a little sideways as a sign for you to keep going.

"why'd you stop?"

"my neck was starting to hurt, i thought i was bothering you though." you shifted in your seat to find a much comfortable position.

he frowned, glancing at you and quickly reaching for the neck pillow that sat on the far end of his desk.

"i love it when you do that," he said softly, pausing the game so he could put the pillow around your neck and cup your face gently. "you're never a bother to me."

"kenma," your lips trembled slightly when tears started gathering at your eyes, touched by his affection.

"i know you're not okay. i could tell since you got here. do you wanna get ice cream after and talk about it?"

you nodded, not saying a word because you were sure your voice would crack if you did and kenma knew that, ruffling your hair before turning back to his game.

"ice cream it is then," he said, pressing play. "i'll buy you two if you continue with the kisses."

giggling, you plant more soft kisses on his cheek, even massaging the back of his neck as you watched him play. later that night, he took you to your favorite ice cream parlor, listening attentively to everything you had to say.

akaashi keiji

you and akaashi haven't seen each other the past week due to both of your conflicting and hectic schedules. their practices were extended to later hours for the upcoming interhigh while you were busy with club activities. whenever you had free time, akaashi would be unavailable and vise versa.

you missed each other so much it hurts which was why the second you both had matching free time, it was spent on cuddling for hours on end. even when you were lying on top of akaashi, face hiding at the crook of his neck and feeling the rise and fall of his chest, you still craved for more.

thinking of having to separate and not see each other again for days made your heart sink into your stomach, nuzzling against his neck as if you could get even closer than you were already.

he ran his hand up and down your back in comfort, even giving a gentle squeeze on your arm to remind you he was physically there with you. you sighed deeply, landing feather-like kisses at his jaw.

"missed you."

"i know," akaashi said barely above a whisper, relaxing into the feeling of your soft lips on his skin. "i missed you too, love."

as you kept going with your ministrations, your eyes were wide in surprise when akaashi stopped you, leaning away just to turn to his side and face you. placing a hand at the back of your neck, you felt his lips on your forehead. then, you felt them next on the space between your brows, then at the tip of your nose, then at your chin.

stopping by your lips, he hovered, staring at you lovingly through half lidded eyes. blood rushed to your cheeks, heating up at the way he was gazing at you. slowly, akaashi captured your lips in his, pulling you forward by his hand on your nape as he moved his lips passionately you're glad you were laying down otherwise your knees would've gave out. it was sweet and short, slipping pecks in between before moving back a little.

"don't be so sad anymore, hm? i'm here now." he said, caressing your cheek with his thumb. the corner of your lips tug upward in a smile, releasing a contented sigh as you stared at each other for a little while.

kuroo tetsuro

he was in a middle of a phone call with yaku discussing about their chemistry homework and spitting out chemical names that were alien to you. it has been going of nearly an hour and a half and you were starting to get impatient, wanting to get back to the movie currenly paused at the screen before yaku called.

saturday nights were movie nights and it was an agreement that either of you must be free from distractions - no phone notifications, mentions of school works, and the like. unless it was an emergency. yaku calling wasn't an emergency, in fact, it was just to argue with kuroo that his answers were right and your boyfriend's were wrong.

and you wouldn't mind it if it were any other day but not today. not after movie nights have been pushed back twice in a row because kuroo has been too exhausted from training to even stay awake at 9 pm.

scooting closer to him on the couch, you locked him in place by putting your arms around his neck and resting your legs on his lap. used to your clinginess, he doesn't react - kept his mind on throwing insults at yaku.

so you proceed with your plan in mind. you weren't exactly placing kisses, just letting your lips graze the corner of his mouth to tease, knowing that it riled him up when you don't kiss him completely.

his free hand came to give your thigh a warning squeeze, a light chuckle leaving you as you kept teasing him, lips hovering at the side of his face. when you felt considerate, you'd kiss him lightly.

you're not really sure how long it went on but probably enough time for kuroo to give up.

"okay bro whatever, let's check it again on monday with kai and see who's really right. i'm busy, bye." with a tap on end call, he tossed the phone on the empty spot beside him before tackling you on the couch, making you shriek as your back met the cushion.

"my babygirl's such a tease," he said in a low, husky voice that sent shivers up and down your spine. before you could even utter a single word, kuroo's smashing his lips against yours, moving fast that it got you mind short-circuiting.

when you finally caught up with his pace and started getting into it, he pulled away. you whined, grabbing his collar to pull him down but doesn't budge, a smirk on his face.

"it's not so fun getting teased, is it?" he winked, clearly amused at your annoyed expression.

you rolled your eyes, groaning as you smack his bicep. "seriously kuroo?"

"what, you started it kitten. it's only fair if you get a little taste of it." he laughed when you scowled further, shaking his head lightly and giving you a sweet, gentle kiss. "sorry i interrupted our movie night."

"'s okay," you mumbled in between the kiss.

"we can make out for the rest of it, you know, a way for me to make it up to you," he said, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly.

you scoffed, but really, the idea sounded perfect.

"just admit you enjoy kissing me."

"mmm sure, whatever," kuroo mumbled as he dipped his head, capturing your lips again. maybe movie night being interrupted wasn't so bad afterall.

rb and feedbacks r sexy ty<33

2021 (c) sevmch | strictly do not copy or repost.

#haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu au #akaashi fic #akaashi fluff #akaashi imagine #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo fluff #kuroo scenarios #hq kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma imagine #kenma fluff #akaashi x y/n #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu au #hq fluff #hq akaashi #hq x you

[mochikeiji]

Exact Replica

Request: "Hi! I really love you're writing and was wondering if you could do prompt 25+29 for Kuroo Tetsuro from Haikyuu? And could it be angst to fluff? (Maybe Kuroo was ignoring the reader due to lots of work/stress so reader feels neglected?) It's totally up to you tho! Ty so much!!"

25. "Would you notice if I was gone?"

29. "I didn't mean it."

↠ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x F!Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy and kuroo's sad childhood

↬ Word Count: 3.7k

↠ a/n: okay this is my longest one yet. I swear the prompt screams angst to fluff so much that I go into it.

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

Kuroo Tetsuro achieved many great things in life after graduating from his university, with multiple acknowledgements and honors. Landed a position as a young CEO from a sports association at the age of 24, he had enough money in his pocket and bank to stable both of you financially. Life was good to him after having to build from the roots  of his ruined childhood; the only years of defeat Kuroo doesn't ever want to repeat. His father and mother were in the same position as you both are; owning your own shared house, good working environment, investments and stability, married.

Up until this day Kuroo questions why his parents split. They were fortunate that they had every thing completed, sadly it was the family and love that wasn't taken care of. You could be the happiest person, yet the void inside would still be there, Kuroo thought. Foolish people were to neglect something more valuable than any object that is given. Whether it was his father or his mother that stopped nurturing what they both bonded for the longest time, they were both fools to let each other go over something simple. He vows to never let history repeat itself.

But now the tables seemed to have flipped for the both of you. Your lives not far from what he had ran away from. If Kuroo could eat his words back, he would've now that he was running late yet again to coming home, forgetting about the promise he swore to about joining you after a full month of being occupied in his office. Coming home to have you already tucked in bed, but suffering in silence.

Most days he didn't bother greeting you in the morning and night. As a good wife, you understand. He was a busy man with an important position to maintain.

There were times where you'd be tapping your foot down on the floor as the clock strikes at an ungodly hour with your messages still not bothered to be replied to or even read. But you understand. He's working! Always doing what he can for the both of you like the good husband he wanted to be.

Even if sometimes he'd come home without a kiss or a simple, "I missed you." you understand. He's drained. No time for silly, endearing affections. You've done them a lot before back when you were younger. You're adults! Married! A married partner shouldn't be feeling so needy when the other was only doing their part.

Even when sometimes your insecurities would kick in whenever you'd visit your husband to drop his forgotten lunch again, only to see him flocked by different women; probably secretaries, interns, and assistance.

You understand. You always did took such good care of what you two have.

Well had.

His home office door slams shut, awakening you from your nap on the couch. Didn't Kuroo notice you when he walked in? Looking at the clock you noticed it was near 11:30 PM since he's arrived. Late again, maybe he hasn't eaten anything? No worries, you thought sadly. Stretching your aching muscles, you made your way to the dining area. So far dinner was left untouched once more. Just how many times has it gone to waste because you continued on cooking for two?

Or rather, three.

You beam at the sudden reminder while preparing your husband's plate. You'd always miss him whenever he'd come home, never had the chance to surprise him at the right time of your little discovery about a week ago. Fear did struck you because of the possible reactions he'd give, but you were so excited in sharing the news that a couple would share the equal happiness from, you couldn't contain it any longer.

Maybe you should've chosen another time unbeknownst to you how your husband was hunched over his desk, clearly in displease of the previous events that had occurred during the meeting back in his office. Hence why his work stack added more piles of predicaments, only fueling his headaches more wishing he could just lay down peace and quiet without disturbance.

He grumbles at the knock on his door, only typing furiously with emphasized taps on the keyboard. You, not sensing the emitting aura from the room took it as a response for you to enter. It surprised you a bit on how disordered his home office had become. It was obvious his coat had been thrown carelessly as it lays on the floor, wrinkled. Carefully placing the plate full of food on the small coffee table at the side, you gingerly picked up the article of clothing. Lightly trying to smoothen out the lines before hanging it behind his door and turning back to your husband.

"Tetsu?" cautiously calling out his name, you were kind of wary at the fact he didn't turn to see you unlike he does before whenever you'd enter the room. "I brought you your dinner. You came home pretty late." you tried to maintain the light hearted tone of your voice to hide how nervous you were in telling him the big news.

The atmosphere was kind of eerie when all he did was hum meekly from your words. Feeling a bit disheartened from his lack of attentiveness, still forcing a smile, you padded a little closer behind him with your hands clasps together. "I also wanted— well needed to tell you something." averting your eyes away from him as you prepared in your head. With a small hope he'd turn around for once after a long time.

"Can it be another time? I'm in the middle of stuff here."

Another time.

Why is it always next time? It's frustrating enough to not see him or have him speak to you even for a moment, but this made your stomach churn in an unpleasant way. Frowning at his poor reply, you gulped a few of your sentence back. Not fully trusting your emotions getting in the way, "You never really talked to me before, Tetsu.. I get that you're busy, but it wouldn't hurt for you to give a little minute for me."

Even just a second as long as he'd finally notice you.

"(Y/n) if you understand then why bother? You can clearly see I'm busy." chest huffing out a harsh sigh, still not bothering to turn around. Gripping your hands tightly, your patience were starting to snap. "You're always busy, Tetsu! I never had a proper conversation with you again." raising the volume of your voice a little made his actions come to a halt. Chair revolving around to face you. His appearance made it obvious how exhausted he has been; tousled hair that he usually takes longer to style, the light forming bags underneath his eyes from the screen and lack of sleep. The visible annoyance marked in his expression. But couldn't he say the same for you?

"Fine. Here, you have my attention now. Are we talking properly now?" his way of provoking you wasn't in the right place. It only made you look at him in disbelief because you've grown to never meet such side of your husband before. The news you had originally planned to share vanished from your head, replaced with the restrained emotions that has been building up inside your heart, tipping over.

"Tetsu, what is wrong with you?" looking at him now seemed like you were talking to someone else. His words were curt and short with no intention of prolonging the conversation, itching to get back to work so he could be done with it. "I already you I'm just busy. I would be done by now if you didn't want to talk properly with me." he says as if he's the one in distraught. "Seriously, nothing's wrong but I think you aren't. You're never like this."

"That's because you never cared to noticed in the first place!" wailing out the collapsed emotions that has weighed you heavily. It was too late to stop yourself from voicing out the things your husband left aside. A full month of being a good, understanding image of a wife thrown away to the rubbles without even appreciating the the long nights of you waiting up for him, cooking meals even though the next day they'd end up being in the trash, tolerating the coldness of the used to be warm sheets, putting up with the insecurities you took upon yourself to hide to avoid troubling your husband further when all you wanted was for him to assure you that he still loves you and only you.

The fascade you put up just for him crumbles. And it infuriates you more of how he still doesn't notice.

"(Y/n), you know I've been working! There's so much stuff that needs to be attended for just so you and I could live normally!"

"Tetsuro, we are stabled, it's okay to slow down a bit. How is this any normal to you when you don't even realize how this affects me?!"

The chair slides back roughly against the floor with a loud creak as he towers over you. Glowering eyes with a dark expression looming over his face, clearly now enraged. "You're being selfish right now. I'm here doing what I can to support us and all you could think of was you, you, you. Can't you see I'm doing this for you as well? God what else do you want from me, the world?"

"I only wanted you to give me your time and attention even just for a second, Tetsuro! I've been doing my best for you all this month and I never said anything to trouble you!"

It hurts when he said how you were being the selfish one when it was the opposite. It dawned to you that all those days of giving your all for him wasn't once noticed. "Will you ever grow up already? Attention? Really? We're adults, (Y/n) not teenagers for fucks sake. My time is just wasted because of you!" he doesn't stop there even if you've had your mouth already shut from how he portrayed you as. His words were beginning to leave a deep scar in you as you quiet down to the next line.

"If you think that nothing is troubling me, there is! And you just happen to add in for crying out loud!"

There were no words exchanged after his meltdown. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks away from you— who's eyes were already watery. Unable to even tell your side anymore at the ache of your heart. "So..I'm just troubling you then?" quivering out your words, Kuroo clenches his jaw as the bubbling frustration was being held back with the last bit of restrain he had.

"Would you notice if I was gone, Tetsu?"

Instead of being alarmed by your chosen form of sentence, you watched with sad eyes as your husband pulled back his chair and faced his workload. He didn't even noticed you're already crying silently, "Not now, (Y/n). We'll talk later."

He doesn't even noticed how you walked out sobbing with a shattered heart nor the door in the living room closing. Leaving him alone for the next few hours in peace like he wanted.

Time went on quickly when one doesn't take their eyes off from their consecutive workaholic state. With a groan, he almost slams his laptop shut before stretching his bones, slowly relaxing the tense muscles. It's up to his co workers and assistance to deal with the load he's prepared to dump onto them after they threw all theirs to him. Hoping to freshen up his face, Kuroo tidies his desk up before making his way to the door. Stopping in realization of the now cold dinner that was left on the coffee table.

His stomach growled loudly at the lack of food it's digested in the longest run. It was still good if he heats it up, he does miss eating home made meals than his stale ones back in the cafeteria of his workplace. Grabbing the plate carefully he first made a short journey to the kitchen to heat up his food. Unusual it was to have all the lights out in the house. You'd always leave some opened when he was awake. Then again the guilt started to crawl up to his chest knowing he's the cause of why you'd forgotten.

Now entering the bathroom with water running down his face, he plans ahead the apology he owes you when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He could reschedule his own time since he is the boss. He closes the faucet right after he was done rinsing. Looking around for the towel his eyes caught something below the small organizer you put up next to the sink. Grabbing the towel above the first part of the organizer, bending down slowly to avoid getting cramps, his actions were quick to grab the object that caught his attention the moment it seemed so familiar and surprising.

Pregnancy test. Two lines for positive.

Having a child with you was the last thing he's yet to accomplish from his list, and here it was. As much as he wanted to be in denial, it all felt like surge of contentment drowns him in because he was going to be a dad. However his body began to tremble whilst still holding the test and staring intently at it. The previous guilt that was crawling beneath his bones became a dark, desolated hole of anxiety and fear that ate him whole. The things he's said and done will never be taken back no matter how he apologizes to the past events a few hours ago.

Hours ago. It was already 2:25 when the fight had ceased. Deep down he knows he couldn't wait until the next day to plead for forgiveness. After all, he did vow to never leave you both a day feeling heavy alone. Kuroo felt nauseous of how much of an asshole he had treated you. Like starting a game of volleyball once more, he was beyond nervous when he approached your shared bedroom. There was no excuse of his actions indeed as he solemnly enters the dimmed room. He sighs a little shaky when he closes in your bed, "Baby?" he starts, "Baby, are you awake?" it was one of the little things he's memorized that you'd do when you both aren't in good terms. You never really slept, just pretended because you always had the heart to wait up for him.

When he gets no response he reaches out to pat you, only coming to the sense that the sheets were left untouched; no warmth traced behind. You weren't there, any where. His blood runs cold and immediately fishes out for his phone in his pocket, speed dialing your number while he circles the entire area of the house in case you'd be there. Now he was more terrified when he hears the familiar voice mail from the living room couch where you had slept while waiting for him.

You left your phone. His wife wasn't home— his pregnant wife.

"Fuck." running a rough hand through his tangled hair. The lump on his throat grows but he refuses to let out a string of sobs. It was his fault you were gone at such an ungodly hour. Kuroo felt more than a bigger asshole than before he's made you come to the point of leaving home. Just as his mother did and never returned. The one thing he swore you two would never be the same came to life, only thought now is Kuroo doesn't know whether you've left him for good after being a neglectful husband and to have dishearten his own beloved wife like that.

"Would you notice if I was gone?"

Rang in his head as he stood outside the neighborhood, running. Chasing after a hallucinated image of you any place he tried to remember you'd be in. A fool he has been to have left you in a loveless marriage. He loves you, he really does. He can't imagine a life without you in it. Just as it was about to become the happiest he's wanted, he pushed it all too soon. A bad husband, he cries. "(Y/n), please come home." legs aching and panting from having to study all areas. It was pitch black; there were no opened spots for you to even go at an hour of slumber and chaos. The only convenient store did not even have you in it. You were no where to be seen and Kuroo breaks.

Of course he'd notice when it was all too late. The past he's ran away from was still the place he's returned now that the house was only occupied by nothing but rotten memories of the love he didn't took care of. The exact replica of a married life he desperately tried to dodge. "I'm so sorry." for the lonely nights he's left you to sleep, over thinking of what may have been your fault and always figuring him out tirelessly. For the small efforts of adoration he didn't took a glance at and gone to waste. For the words that were never even meant for you to ever feel. For being a neglectful husband. He was sorry he noticed too late how he ruined his precious wife.

Now he's left you on your own out in the dangers outside. If anything horrible happened to you he will forever be crushed. But the world thinks that second chances are given to those who truly deserve them after you came in quietly, slipping off your sandals and waving back to your friend who had dropped you off home. Your short break to the convenient store changed when you met up with her and drove back to her place to rant about what happened. Being the sluggish person you are whenever sadness hits, you never noticed how long you've over stayed. It wasn't like your husband was going to know if he still was working.

Much to your surprise that he wasn't, you stifled a gasp to find him with his hands holding his head that was leaned down on the table. His shoulders were lightly jolting with escapes of audible sniffles, indicating that he was in fact crying. If he looked exhausted before, it wasn't enough to describe his current state; as if he was a man who'd lost every thing as he sat there with all hope lost. Your foot padded on the creaky part of the floor in attempt to tiptoe over his hunched back to comfort him. Squeaking in the awkward situation you've put the room in when Kuroo turns his head behind to see you standing there a bit frightened, but concerned when you saw how disheveled his face looks.

"Tetsu—" his name got cut off short from when you almost tripped over your balance at the sudden impact of Kuroo throwing himself into your arms with his weight. You couldn't make out what he was mumbling on about, but you melt to his embrace even if he squeezes the living day lights from you, afraid that he was going crazy and you weren't real. "Thank God," litters of kisses were placed on your clavicle, "You're back."

He repeats, slowly convincing himself that you are indeed home in his arms, safe, no harm detected. Just home. "I'm so sorry.."

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of what I said, I-I'm so sorry." your bodies swayed gently to the sound of your hushes and his cries of apologies. "Please don't leave me like that again. I was so scared."

"Shhh, it's okay, Tetsu. I'm sorry. I'm okay— we're okay." leading him to sit down at the couch, you placed the bag of different brands of sweets and junk on the table before facing your husband. You had to stifle in a laugh watching him wipe his nose, you couldn't help but be reminded of a mini Tetsuro by looking at him. The argument that stung you faded when he took a hold of your hands and mumbled another apology.

"You shouldn't be sorry for anything. I should be.." flickering his eyes from your belly to your bloodshot eyes from your own fiasco back in your friend's place, he slides in closer next to you where your shoulders touched. "I haven't been a good husband lately, have I?" he looks at you expectantly. Frowning, you still nodded. Tired of hiding your own feelings from him.

"I know you're busy most of the time, Tetsu. But I just wanted you to recognize me as your wife." thumbs quick to swipe away the tear that had shed from your eye, "We're in this together, remember?" he pulls you right from the arm, shoving your face to his chest in need to hold you for all the times he should've. Ignoring the dampness of his white long-sleeved polo, breathing in the scent of your sweet shampoo. You were still so forgiving and understanding despite on how equally tired as he was you are.

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as if I never cared anymore. You never deserved that." his lips found it's way to the crown of your head. "I don't deserve you, and I really don't want to lose you after me being stupid." giggling through tears, fist connecting a soft punch on his chest, bubbling a chuckle to the surface as he lightly pulls you away from hiding.

"I really didn't mean all of those things I've said, baby. I love you and only you." stroking ever so lovingly your cheek, you don't catch on to the fact that his other hand was placed over your stomach protectively. Making a silent promise to not only you, but the soon to be new addition to the family that he will never again neglect what he should've cherished more and looked after than the constant worries at the back of his head.

Because he will never again repeat the replica of a broken family he once was born in.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

#haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x (y/n) #kuroo testuro #kuroo angst #kuroo fluff #hq kuroo #kuroo imagine #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #raines: gogatsu event

[plussizeappreciationfics]

*rolls up to ask box* Lemmee get a Yoongi with plus size black reader where she's a teacher who moved to Korea teaching English at a university. She's grading papers at a 24 hr coffee shop with her 4c hair in puffs & glasses on. He's out getting his beloved iced Americano and he sees her. He's watches her for a bit until she overhears him talking about her fine ass in korean thinking she can't understand him but she snaps her head up and speaks perfect korean to the waitress? Sorry it's so long

I changed it a little bit but here you go wifey! 

First encounter

“God, this is so good…” you sighed in happiness once the delicate taste of your sweet cappuccino hit your tastebuds. This was exactly that you needed after a long day at school: a nice coffee and a new book to enjoy reading at your favourite café.

After clocking out, you had gone home to change into something comfortable and decided to let your hair rest in cute little buns and your glasses just complimented the whole outfit. Thank God it was Friday because you were so ready to just unwind and spend some quality time alone. You had some plans to go and have some fun in Seoul but those weren’t fully convinced of the plans just yet. Teaching had been very exhausted, but you loved your job, nonetheless.

You were about to dive back into your book when you noticed a very handsome guy sitting just two tables away from you. He had his laptop out, with something that looked like a small portable piano keyboard. He was bobbing his head along to whatever tunes were blasting through his headphones. You couldn’t help when he suddenly broke out grinning, showing off his gummy smile and it instantly made your heart swell with happiness.

The handsome stranger continued to grin while tapping away at his laptop, making you lose yourself in his little bubble, you were growing curious to what he was creating while wondering whether you’d ever be lucky enough to listen to it.

“Shit!” you hissed to yourself when the handsome stranger noticed your gaze on him and snapped his head in your direction, the two of you making instant eye contact. In that moment you released two things:

1. You had been staring at Min Yoongi aka, BTS’s Suga 

2. Min smiled when your eyes locked, and he gave you a gentle head nod

To say that you were panicking a little was an understatement. That man wasn’t just a celebrity but also had acknowledged your existence. A boost of self-confidence rushed through your body while you looked down at your book and mentally counted to ten in order to get your shit together. This wasn’t happening.

It took you more than ten seconds to calm down before clearing your throat and trying to focus on the phrases of your book. Your tensed shoulders slowly relaxed again, and a small smile crept onto your face, you had never guessed this would happen in a million years.

Five minutes into your book, you randomly glanced up again and noticed that Min was still staring at you. You gave him a small smile and raised your cup of coffee, not knowing that your beauty was putting the musician in complete awe. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you as he instantly was interested in you.

Sure, Min had seen and met many beautiful people in his life but something about your smooth brown skin, the clothes that were hugging it perfectly and your simple behaviour was doing something to him. You didn’t know that he had paused his music and made it his personal mission to try and get close to you. Min was happy that today was the day he had decided to leave the house in order to find some inspiration for BTS’s upcoming song, because you were now the newly discovered inspiration.

The group had decided to write another beautiful love song, this time not just only expressing hopes of finding that intense and addicting love but to actually write about experiencing it. Not many knew that Min Yoongi had experienced that kind of love, it hadn’t lasted for a very long time but his heart had once belonged to someone special. The breakup nearly killed him though, the pain was unbearable and the musician had ever since been afraid to even approach someone.

Seeing you there, he felt his stomach flip in anxiety but also excitement because he felt determined to get to know you. Your eyes locked for a few more minutes before you felt like a creep and decided to get back to reading.

Taking another sip of your cup, you noticed your palms starting to sweat as Min’s handsomeness was simply too overwhelming for you. “Such a beauty”, whispered the singer in Korean before shaking his head in amazement.

I BEG YOUR PARDON?!

You screamed in your head, your eyes almost popping out of its sockets. Min didn’t know that you were fluent in Korean as it was a necessity in order to teach in the country and probably didn’t expect you to understand him, so he felt more than free to voice his opinion on you.

You took a big sip from your coffee and decided to take your interaction a step further. You took a few deep breaths before standing up, collecting your book, hot drink and phone before walking over to him and joining him at this table.

Min let out a surprised gasp when you looked at him and replied in Korean “Thanks for the compliment”. Then you started the conversation, saying that you had been fluent in the language for a few years now and that you were a fan of BTS. The way he snapped his laptop shut had you giggling while leaning back against your seat and smiling happily.

Min instantly felt shy and apologised for his comment, expressing how it wasn’t gentleman like and that he just felt so amazed by your beauty. You excitedly let him know that you also found him very beautiful and then you loved his musical talent. The rapper then asked you about your life, you liked your job and how you liked living in Seoul, he patiently listened to you while making mental notes how you beautiful your voice sounded. It was like sweet honey to his craving ears.

You told him a few funny stories that happened while teaching and the way he threw his head back and laughed loudly had you instantly catching feelings. His gummy smile just looked breathtaking, he didn’t give a single fuck about the fact that his loud laughter was booming through the whole café, he just was in his happy moment.

Min then told you different stories of his life as a worldwide known musician, the ups and downs of dealing with fame and even his hopes for the future. It was so easy to read right through him like an open book: that man found happiness in the simplest things of life but was very lonely. He didn’t have many friends and barely had the time to spend some quality time with them, but just from the way he was looking while talking about them, you knew that he loved them dearly. 

Yoongi continued talking about the group’s members, what he had learned from them and how much he loved them despite being very bad at showing his appreciation. You clung onto every word that left his soft and plump lips and imagined what it would be like to feel them gently pressed against yours.

“Hey…Can I take you out sometime? There’s many amazing places I can show you if you want”, Min asked with the most adorable yet shy expression on his face. You were melting away while he was trying his best to not show how much he wanted to hold your hand, listen to you talk for hours and be lucky enough to kiss your plump lips that were calling onto his.

Your numbers already had been exchanged a few minutes into the first conversation so all you could hope for was to get a text from the musician.

“I would love that!” you grinned and couldn’t help but reach out for his hand and give it a quick squeeze. His palms were sweating, and his nostrils immediately appreciated your delicate scent when you leaned in. That man was falling quick and hard for you. You didn’t mind his sweaty hand, actually loved the feeling of his soft skin.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t dare show it. This felt amazing. You wished it never end, but that wasn’t an option, for now. With one final smile you wished Yoongi a nice day before standing up and gathering your things, your cup of coffee already having been consumed. After leaving a few bills and a nice tip on your table, you made your way out of the café without glancing back, knowing damn well that Min was staring at you and your luscious curves.

Tag list: @jamesbarnesappreciationclubub  l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l l @harleycativy  l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez  l @ilovefanfic86  l @adorablespecialsnowflakes l @brittanyovens l @kanupps06 l @jazmynejack l @thebookwormslytherin l @theunsweetenedtruth l @talannalew l @littlexmissxfandomxlover l @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes l @crimsonash330 l @booklover2929 l @aranelgrey l @panda-duuu l @thisismysecrethappyplace  l @titty-teetee l @honey-anon l @princess-evans-addict l @hp-hogwartsexpress l @malindacath  l @letsdisneythings l l @shado-raven l @alisoncdariel l @plutoneu l  @queenoftheworldisdead l @briannab1234l @miyaeadys-blog l l @hihellogoodbyebruh l @nackrosor l @nerdgurl1985 l @2darkskinbeauty l @bugngiz l @african-melanin-goddess l @barnes-wilson-love l @ktiz90 l @let-the-love-in  l @robinredboob l @hopefuloperaangelnerd l @kola95 l @partypoison00 l @alwaysadreamingoptimist l @reniescarlett l @g0thicdream l @mayasopinions l @captaintightpants58 l @leillee

-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

#min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x plus size reader #min yoongi x poc!reader #suga bts #bts #plus size reader

[heytherejulietx]

Drunk ~ Bughead

Masterlists

Requests are CLOSED

Read on AO3 here.

Notes - Okay I know I said I’d have my Jughead x reader fic out before this but I was so inspired to do this first! Please let me know what you think I really liked this one!

Warnings - Alcohol consumption, medication.

Word count - 3.6k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @teenloves

To join my tag list fill out this form

After a while of Betty staying at the trailer on and off, it was always odd whenever she didn’t stay the night. Those were usually the nights that Jughead spent writing, when he wasn’t encased in the secure arms of the blonde goddess he was dating. It gave him the time alone to get fully immersed in his writing and the words that formed on the screen in front of him at every tap of his fingers against the keyboard. Usually he sped through his writing alone; unless he was with Betty or his friends he enjoyed silence so it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it, though this night he couldn’t seem to write anything. His blank document stared back at him as he pressed his lips against white clenched knuckles, unable to focus. He had been getting an odd feeling all night - one where you just knew something was wrong, and he hadn’t been able to shake it.

Before he could procrastinate any longer his phone buzzed on the coffee table beside his laptop as his ringtone swallowed the silence of the room, and he smiled slightly upon seeing it was his love calling. Before another loop of the obnoxious ringtone could fill the room he pressed answer and held the device against his ear.

“Juggie!” Betty pretty much yelled on the other end, earning a wince from Jughead at the volume, who held it a little away from his ear. “I miss you so much!” She giggled, her speech a little slurred together.

Jughead frowned. She had only meant to be staying at Veronica’s for the night, and it wasn't like the girls would drink together alone at the Pembrooke. “Are you drunk?” He asked anyways.

Betty simply giggled again, and it was then he could hear the generic pop song coming from the receiver as well as Betty’s voice, as well as a mix of conversation from other people. Many other people. “Kinda.” She responded coyly. “I haven’t had much to drink, Juggie, only a little.”

Jughead sighed and rubbed his free hand over his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. “You sound like you’ve had a lot. Are you at Veronica’s still? Can you put her on the phone?”

“Uh, no we’re at-” Betty cut herself off with a hiccup before she continued. “-Reggie’s house but Ronnie’s here!”

A few faint voices could be heard on the line before an almost rustling noise followed, Veronica’s voice soon filing his ear instead. “Jughead listen-”

“Is Betty okay?” He interrupted her as he frowned a little more. Betty had never even drank before, to his knowledge, and now she was drunk at a house party? Reggie Mantle’s house party? Of course he wouldn’t want to get in his girlfriend’s way of having fun, but she sounded pretty out of it when he had spoken to her, and he didn’t want her getting hurt or worse.

“She’s a bit tipsy. And by that I mean B’s absolutely wasted, she sucks at beer pong by the way.” Veronica tutted. “She’s been asking for you for like an hour, she only just found her phone with her coat.”

Jughead inhaled deeply through his nose and tipped his head back against the back of the sofa, trying not to get too annoyed or worried. Betty had wanted him for an hour whilst she was drunk and Veronica hadn’t called to tell him?

“Give me Reggie’s address. I’m coming to get her.”

-

The thumping of the bass from the generic pop song drummed through the house as Jughead walked into the house, tucking the key’s of his dad’s truck into his jacket pocket. He didn’t even want to risk letting a drunk Betty onto his bike. Too many accidents would be just waiting to happen.

As he pushed through the crowd of dancing and laughing high school students, most of which he recognised from Riverdale High, Jughead couldn’t help but think back to his own sixteenth birthday party that Betty had thrown in his sophomore year. He just hoped that this night didn’t end as horribly.

Surprisingly it didn’t take too long to find Betty in the house full of intoxicated teenagers. After walking through the front of the house he ended up in the kitchen, where Betty and Veronica were alone, spare a couple of other students who were taking shots on the other side of the room. Betty was sat on the counter with a red solo cup in her hands; Veronica stood beside her with her own cup as she laughed away at something. He took in the state of his girlfriend as he crossed the room to meet her, noticing more details as he got closer, the first thing he noticed was the silver and blue dress she was wearing. It was most definitely an item that she didn’t have in her wardrobe - something that Alice Cooper would highly disapprove of if she would have seen her daughter wearing it - so he had to guess the thigh length body-con came from Veronica. The next thing he noticed was her hair; blonde strands let loose over her shoulders and free from the usual ponytail, though it was slightly frizzy and more unkempt than he had seen it before, spare a few life-threatening situations that they had been in.

“Ladies.” Jughead sighed as he got to them, preparing himself for whatever drunken mess he was about to deal with, but he couldn’t help but smile slightly when he watched his girlfriend’s eyes light up when she saw him.

“Juggie! You came!” Betty cheered excitedly, wobbling as she climbed off of the counter before she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

“Mhm.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he moved an arm around her. “We’re going back to mine, okay? You can sleep over.”

As he was speaking to Betty, he noticed over her shoulder as Veronica grabbed her coat and handed it to him, the raven-haired boy mouthing a thank you as he took it from her.

“What?” Betty whined and leaned back to look up at him, causing her to wobble though Jughead tightened his arm around her waist to make sure she didn’t lose her balance and fall backwards. “We can’t go! You just got here!”

“I know, love, but we have to. It’s late and you’ll feel horrible in the morning as it is.” He sighed. “I’ll go out with you next weekend if you really want. Okay?”

Betty looked like she was thinking about it for a moment as she tugged her glossed bottom lip between her teeth, before she just nodded and smiled. “Okay.” She giggled.

Jughead felt her hands slide underneath his unzipped jacket to rest against his sides as she leaned up a little to kiss him. He could smell the alcohol on her breath and could taste it on her lips as he kissed her, though refrained from deepening it any further and leaned his head back when Betty had tried to. She was very drunk and he wasn’t going to take advantage when she was in such a state.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you to bed.” Jughead pressed another kiss to her temple before he pulled away and handed Betty her coat, thanking Veronica as she slipped it on before he splayed his palm against the small of her back and led her out of the house.

“Did you have a good time?” He asked once they were in the quiet of the outside, slipping his arm around her waist when she kept wobbling to the point of worrying him that she would fall.

“Yeah.” Betty giggled and nodded. “Ronnie heard about the party and said we should go and it was-” She hiccuped again. “-really fun! I’m great at the ball game.”

“The ball game?” He tipped his head to the side to look at her as he got the truck keys out of his pocket to unlock the vehicle.

“Yeah! Y’know, the one with all the red cups and you’ve gotta drink the drinks. Cup basketball?”

“You mean beer pong?” Jughead asked with an amused smile.

“Yeah! Cup basketball!” She giggled.

Jughead chuckled and shook his head as he opened the passenger side door for Betty, gently gripping her forearm to help her into the seat and clipped her seatbelt, before he shut the door and joined her on the driver’s side.

“What does this do?” He heard her ask and looked over at her to see her messing with the lever beside her seat that adjusted it.

“It tips your seat back.” Jughead told her, and had to keep from laughing when she yanked the lever and tipped her seat all the way back so she was laying down.

Jughead started the car once he’d looked away from her and buckled his seatbelt, driving away from Reggie’s house soon after. He was surprised to find that the majority of the journey back to the South Side was in silence, with how talkative Betty had been inside, but every time he risked a glance her way she was just staring out of the window and watched the cars pass by their own. At some point she had reached her hand up and made a grabby motion towards his, and he smiled softly as he gently laced his fingers with hers and kept his other on the steering wheel.

“Juggie?” He heard from beside him just as he started driving into the South Side, humming in acknowledgement as he gave her hand a light squeeze. “Did you know that if you close your eyes… if you close your eyes you can’t see.” She giggled, and upon turning to look at her he could see that Betty had her eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Really?” He asked simply just to amuse her, fondly rolling his eyes as he looked back at the road. “Fascinating.”

“I just blew your mind, didn’t I?” Betty asked and Jughead had to suppress a chuckle as he nodded.

“You sure did, sweetheart. You always do.”

By this point Jughead had pulled into the trailer park and parked the truck beside where his motorbike was, shutting off the engine before he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Betty simply hummed in response so Jughead got out of the car and walked around to her side and opened her door for her. She was still just laying down when he had gotten there so he leaned across her to unbuckle her seatbelt before he gently took her hands to help her sit up again.

“Hey!” Betty gasped oncs she’d sat up, a sudden burst of energy filling her. “You live here!” She leaned forwards to point at the trailer though leaned too far forwards and almost fell out of her seat, if it wasn’t for Jughead who had quickly moved his hands to her hips to steady her.

“Easy, love.” He chuckled and helped her out of the truck carefully before he returned his arm around her waist to keep her steady as he locked the vehicle behind him.

Betty stumbled beside him as he helped her up the stairs of the trailer and inside once had the door open, letting it close behind him. His laptop and notes were still strewn messily across the coffee table from earlier in the evening though he gave it no notice as he led his girlfriend through the small space to his bedroom, where she had slept a countless amount of times before.

“Juggie?” Betty giggled in what almost sounded like a sultry tone once they had reached the bedroom, and it caused Jughead to raise his eyebrows at her as he turned his head to look down at her with a hum of acknowledgement.

Betty didn’t return with an audible response, and instead slipped her hands underneath his jacket again as she leaned up to kiss him just like she had done at the party. Though unlike the party she moved her hands to grip the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer against herself, deepening the kiss before he could pull away. Jughead groaned lowly into her mouth as her teeth nipped at her bottom lip and as much as he didn’t want to, he moved his hands to rest on either side of his face as he pulled away with a sigh.

“Betty, you’re drunk.” He stated with a newly found seriousness that he hadn’t had in the car.

“So?” Betty whined and leaned up on her tiptoes again, only to be met with his hands on her hips to keep her at a slight distance.

“So I’m not going to take advantage of you whilst you’re drunk.” Jughead explained, and watched as she frowned though nodded her head.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he looked down at her as he took his hands away from her as he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders.

“We’ll get you changed and into bed, okay? Then you can sleep, you must be tired.” He said softly, tilting his head a little as he looked at her.

“I’m not tired.” Betty defended with a giggle and shook her head, though Jughead simply raised his eyebrows at her, his expression screaming I don’t believe you.

“Whatever you say, love, let’s just get you changed anyways okay? That dress can’t be too comfortable.” He lightly brushed his hand across one of the straps before he pulled away from her and walked across the room to grab one of his shirts for her to sleep in.

“It’s Veronica’s.” Betty told him simply as he walked back over to her with the shirt.

“I know, love, it’s not your usual style.” Jughead chuckled and nodded, before he placed the shirt on the edge of his bed and lightly touched her arm. “Need help getting this off?”

“Mhm? There’s a zipper.” Betty nodded. “Just don’t break it because Veronica won’t be too happy.” Betty giggled, and wobbled a little though for the most part she stayed completely still as Jughead moved behind her to unzip the dress and slipped the straps off of her shoulders, letting the material pool at her feet.

“Want this off too?” Jughead asked as he lightly touched the side of her bra, knowing it would just be uncomfortable for her to sleep in though he still wanted to check. He waited for Betty to nod in confirmation before he carefully unclasped the clips and let it drop to the floor with the dress, an action he’d done countless times before, just in a different situation. “Okay, arms up beautiful.” He tapped her upper arm as he grabbed his shirt before he stood back in front of her again, helping her arms through the sleeves once she had held them up before her head through it too, pulling it down so it’d be on her properly.

“Hey this is yours.” She giggled and gestured to the shirt once she had it on, causing him to fondly roll his eyes again as he nodded.

“Yeah it’s mine.” He chuckled, as if he hadn’t been holding the shirt before.

Jughead helped her step out of the dress before he sat her on the edge of her bed, handing her an unopened water bottle that was on his side. “Here, love.” He opened the cap for her before he moved across the room to gather her clothes neatly for her to get the day after.

By the time he’d come back to Betty she’d gulped half of the water and was trying to put the lid back on, which he helped her with when he saw her struggling to do just that. Looking at her expression he couldn’t tell if she was sobering up or not, but she was definitely tired, noted by the dropping of her eyelids every so often before she forced them open again.

Jughead placed the bottle of water on the bedside table before he pulled back the covers and helped Betty get into the bed, her eyelids drooping again as her head hit the pillow. “I’ll be back in a moment, Juliet.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead and watched as she nodded before he pulled the covers up and stepped out of the room for a moment.

After years of dealing with his dad’s drinking, he knew how bad the hangover would be for Betty. And he knew it would probably be worse considering it was her first time drinking. Jughead stepped into the extremely small bathroom of the trailer and turned on the light, ignoring as it flickered as he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle of Tylenol that hadn’t been used since he needed them after facing the gauntlet. He checked the dosage on the back of the pot just to be sure before he tipped out two into his hand and put the pot back into the cabinet and closed it, shutting off the light as he made his way back into his bedroom.

A soft smile painted across his lips when he saw Betty peacefully asleep, thankful he wasn’t going to have to convince her of that too. He carefully dropped the pills on the bedside table beside the bottle of water before he got changed into his own pyjamas and got into the bed beside her after he shut off the light, not taking too long to fall asleep himself once he’d pulled Betty closer and held her until he drifted off.

-

He was woken the next morning by a quiet groan in his ear, and blinked a little as he came to his senses. Betty gripped onto his white tank top as she pressed her face against his neck, another quiet groan leaving her lips as she used her free hand to rub the side of her head. Jughead frowned at the state of her, realising she had a headache.

“Hey,” he whispered, and although she didn’t look at him he knew she’d heard him, her head tilting slightly at the sound of his voice. “You okay?”

“No,” Betty whimpered, sounding close to tears, which made him frown a bit more. “It feels like I got hit in the head really hard.”

“I’m sorry love.” Jughead sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he pulled away from her just enough to reach up and grab the bottle and Tylenol. “Take these.”

Betty turned her head and sat up to take them, her eyebrows knitted together as she sat up properly. “Thank you.” She mumbled as she put the pills in her mouth, having some water to swallow them before she placed the water back down as she sighed and rubbed her temples with her palms.

Jughead laid back into the bed and held his arm out for her to settle into, smiling softly once she was pressed against his side and in his arms. His arm curled around her waist to bring her closer as his free hand lifted up to brush some loose blonde strands out of her eyes, the action causing her eyes to flutter shut. “Do you remember any of last night?”

“Some of it.” Betty whispered in response, opening her eyes back up to look at him as she moved one of her arms around his waist to stay even closer to him. “It’s all a bit fuzzy. I don’t remember getting into bed.” She sighed and shook her head before she winced. “I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

“No,” Jughead shook his head as he started smirking a little. “But hey, did you know that if you close your eyes you can’t see?” He asked teasingly and chuckled.

Betty groaned as she hid her head against his neck again, causing him to laugh a little more. “I’m sorry.” She whined.

“It’s fine, love, it was pretty funny.” He chuckled.

“No, I’m sorry about all of it.” Betty clarified, and this time Jughead’s expression softened a little.

“It’s nothing, love. I wasn’t just going to leave you at Reggie’s place alone and drunk.”

“Yeah but…” Betty trailed off and sighed, something that kept Jughead’s attention as he waited for her to form the words. “I know what you went through with your dad drinking and I’m sorry I was like that, I shouldn’t have called you in the first place it was stupid of me, I-“

“Hey hey hey,” Jughead cut off her rambling with a gentle hand on the side of her face, guiding her eyes up to meet his. “You don’t need to apologise, sweetheart. You and my dad are completely different things, okay? It didn’t bother me.” He explained, and watched as she visibly relaxed at his answer.

“Okay.” She sighed and smiled in relief.

“I love you, I’ll always be there to take care of you.” Jughead smiled and leaned down to lightly kiss her for a long moment, feeling warm at the soft expression on her face once he’d pulled away.

“I love you too.” Betty whispered and nodded. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“It’s no problem, love.” Jughead shook his head, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Any time.”

#amber’s writing #bughead #bughead fic #bughead oneshot #bughead one shot #bughead fanfiction #bughead moodboard #bughead edit #riverdale bughead #betty cooper x jughead jones #jughead jones x betty cooper #betty cooper #betty cooper oneshot #betty cooper one shot #betty cooper imagine #jughead #jughead oneshot #jughead one shot #jughead imagine #jughead jones #jughead jones oneshot #jughead jones one shot #jughead jones imagine #jughead jones fic #jughead jones fluff #bughead fluff #riverdale #tw alcohol consumption #tw alcohol #tw medication

[pinkanonwrites]

love me, please love me

Akaashi x Reader

Happy belated Valentine's day! I wanted to write a bittersweet piece for the occasion, but I caved right at the end and made it 100% sweet instead. Basically Akaashi is a delight and I wanted to see him pine, and pine hard. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

(also the song title is from a song of the same name by Michel Polnareff, which I highly recommend listening to in order to get that yearning vibe)

Akaashi had already decided by himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Sure, there would always be details and characters and overarching, more interesting plot to work out, but the overall premise was always the same. Two characters with undeniable chemistry, kept from admitting their true feelings because of Person X or Situation Y, rinse and repeat misunderstandings and 'almosts' until the manga was ready to end. Maybe even leave room afterwards for a cute, episodic spin-off.

Easy.

The real world, however, rarely offered such simplicities.

For example, Akaashi was in love with an office worker whose desk was once across from his, and he was pretty sure they didn't even know his name.

It's not like he'd known he was going to fall for you. How could he have? There was no chorus of angels, no heavenly light from above as the world seemed to fall into slow-motion. No. On his first day in the office you had been late, stumbled in with messy hair and a haphazard stack of manuscripts that you smacked down onto your desk, and had nearly tipped your overfull coffee mug all over the floor. He could hardly call it a good first impression. And yet…

The other workers on your floor seemed to hold you in a very high regard. He'd barely been there a week when one of his concerns had been directed to your desk.

"Ah, excuse me. Takaoda-san told me you could help with this?"

Your attention snapped up from your screen to Akaashi and the folder tucked in his hands. Noticeably confused for a split second, it took a moment before realization dawned on you.

"Oh! You're the guy who just joined! Kashi-san, right? Yeah, I can help you with that!"

You didn't even give him time to correct your butchering of his name.

Not only had you solved his problem, you'd scooted your chair to the side a bit and motioned for him to drag his own over and seat himself beside you, carefully walking him through the entire process.

"There you are! I'll just email this over to you so you have the file on your computer then."

"Yes, thank you very much."

"No problem! If you have any more questions, I'd be happy to help you out."

Your kindness, it seemed, extended to the other members of your office floor as well. Not a day would go by without Akaashi seeing at least one person hunkered down beside you at your desk in various states of disarray, waiting for your kind and composed words to soothe their frazzled minds. Clearly you were a cherished member of this office.

He was sure that the warm stirrings beginning in his chest were no more than admiration at that point.

Mostly sure.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As his status with the editing company and his understanding of the industry began to rise, Akaashi was swiftly moved up to higher departments and higher pressures, longer meetings and tighter deadlines. He no longer spent as much time on the main floor where he'd started. But he still noticed you.

You'd been the first on the floor to cheer for him when it was announced that he'd be moving to his own private office. You patted him on the back and wished him well with a big, bright smile that made his stomach do something funny he tried to ignore. Occasionally you bumped into each other in the elevator, the break room, in meeting rooms as clusters of overworked people filed in and out.

And sometimes, on darkened evenings when he was leaving the building in the dead of night, he'd see you still sat at your desk. Alone in the office space, you continued to tap away at your keyboard. He'd never considered that for all the time you spent helping others with their problems, that was time unspent solving your own.

"Kashi-san?"

He faltered a bit under your tired gaze, lurking in the doorway of the floor, having finally caught your eye. He didn't even remember to correct you, again.

It didn't matter that much, though. Not when his body was already moving without him thinking, standing at the side of your desk and placing the canned coffee he'd just bought from the vending machine on its corner.

"It's almost 10. I'm surprised you're still here."

You blinked, then laughed, a sweet melodic tune. The coffee clutched in both hands, you looked up at him so sweetly that his heart hammered in response.

"Yeah, there's a lot to get done."

"Please be sure not to overwork yourself. You're a vital piece of this company."

I will, thank you… Hey, have you eaten?"

He startled, checking his watch. "N-Not since lunch."

"Let's grab something. My treat. Consider it a thanks for the coffee."

"Ah… if you insist."

Not that he needed much insistence.

And so began a comfortable pattern as late night dinners between the two of you became all the more common. It was rare that a week went by that didn't end a long and tiring day with ramen in a cozy booth, or snack foods scarfed down outside a 24-hour convenience store, your smiling face all the warmth he needed to stave off the evening chill.

Perhaps this was where he'd first realized, when you'd held a napkin out to him to dab away the teriyaki sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth: A sudden, longing lurch to do the same, to cup your cheek gently in his hand, to run the pad of his thumb over your soft lower lip. He walked home in a daze that evening, dusted with snow and brimming with warmth and confusion.

Realistically he knew that office romances weren't uncommon. He'd read enough manga and watched enough dramas to know that. And yet, he couldn't shake the concern so easily. What if your bosses found out? What would your co-workers think?

...What if it didn't work?

The only glimpses of yourself he'd gotten outside of a workplace environment were those short, shared meals. How could that be enough to judge whether you two were really meant to work well together? Was it worth risking the fallout?

No. Certainly not. Not for a silly crush. Akaashi could wait this out, he should wait this out. Keep his distance and wait until the butterflies faded and the fires died and he was left with the same feelings he'd felt for you in the beginning, appreciation and the occasional concern.

He would be fine.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the dawn of week three of minimizing contact with you, Akaashi Keiji was decidedly not fine.

He hadn't realized how dependent he'd become on your presence until it was unceremoniously torn away from him. Is a grown man meant to crave another person's voice so much? Their smile? Their laugh? He felt like a schoolboy again, flustered and frustrated and brimming over with emotions he wasn't sure how to outlet.

On Tuesday morning you'd come in early, clearly dressed for a date. Takaoda confirmed his suspicion a moment later when he complimented your outfit.

"I've got a blind date tonight, actually."

The butterflies in Akaashi's stomach choked and died, falling like stones into the pit of his gut. He nearly shocked himself with the single word that screamed across his rushing mind, that he didn't dare speak aloud.

No.

He felt like a jerk. He felt like a coward. He felt like a horrible, selfish child. But when you saw him standing in the hall and lifted a hand to wave, Akaashi ducked his head and hurried to his office, pointedly and obviously ignoring your greeting.

Well done Keiji, surely they would return your feelings now.

Very little got done that day. And as the clock ticked ever and ever closer to 5pm, Akaashi knew he needed to make a choice. And he knew he needed help making it.

Lifting his cell phone, Akaashi called the one person he knew could give him an easy answer.

"Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! How are you? Aren't you at work right now?"

"Yes, Bokuto-san. However, I had an important question I was hoping you could help me with."

"Of course! Must be real big if you're calling me about it, huh?"

"Yes, it is."

Faced with the possibility of finally having an answer to his concerns, Akaashi found himself at a loss of where to start.

"Bokuto-san, have you ever had feelings for someone but weren't sure if telling them was the best idea?"

"Oho? Romance questions? Now I'm real interested!" He could hear Bokuto's big, silly grin even over the phone. "Well yeah, some of the cheerleaders are pretty hot. And you remember that guy at the ramen place who always gave me extra coupons? Pretty sure he could've been my soulmate!"

"Bokuto-san, I believe my situation is a touch more serious than a waiter who gives me extra coupons."

Bokuto maturely responded by blowing a raspberry into the receiver.

"Well, if it's that serious why haven't you asked them yourself? You've gotten this torn up about it to call me, so it must be the real deal."

"It really isn't that easy…"

"Isn't it? I mean, they either like you or they don't, right? If they do, great! If they don't, well then you can just start getting over them faster."

Akaashi found himself struggling for a reasonable response to that.

"Hey, all I can say is, you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take! Someone famous said that. Shakespeare, I think."

"Wayne Gretzky."

"Bless you."

Sighing, Akaashi glanced at his watch. You would probably be leaving soon. You might even already be out of the office. "...Thank you, Bokuto-san. If you'll excuse me, I need to catch an elevator."

"Sure thing bud! Lemme know how it goes!"

Click.

Akaashi's office door swung shut alongside the soft click of Bokuto hanging up. He skittered on the tile, trying to right himself as he sprinted around the corner, stopping only for a second at the window to the office floor. No one there.

He was probably too late already, why wouldn't you have left early on the night of your date? You worked so hard every other day, surely you would take the few extra minutes to prepare yourself. You were smart like that. Smart, and beautiful, and considerate, and there was no way Akaashi was going to just let you walk off with another man, not without even trying…

Around the corner, standing at the door to one of the elevators, there you were. Why did you look so… grim?

"Oh, hey!" You forced a smile onto your face as you gave him a little wave. "Clocking out on time? That's not like you."

Akaashi opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He tried again, clearing his throat hard.

"Oh, damn. Here."

You pressed a half-empty water bottle into his hands.

"Were you running? You're wheezing like crazy."

Staring down at the bottle in his quivering hands, his mouth moved before his mind could work.

"A date!"

You froze, finally focusing up on his face, staring so, so deeply into his eyes. Or maybe you were just looking at him normally. He could no longer tell. "Oh, yeah. I had one. He had to cancel."

The water bottle clattered to the floor as he gripped both your hands in his.

"Would you consider dinner, then?... With… me? Not like we usually do, this one's…. It's…."

Your hands were so warm. You could probably feel how sweaty his were. Gross. He should probably let you go before you got creeped out or-

"A date?"

"....Please."

A giddy, boisterous laugh bubbled out of you, one he had only heard after you'd downed a few drinks yourself. You squeezed his hands tight, giving him a smile that washed his anxieties away like chalk beneath the rain.

"I'd like that."

"Ah. Yes. Shall we go then?"

"We shall." You hooked your arm around his elbow, giving him a playful grin. "Lead the way, good sir."

Akaashi had already decided for himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Living it, though? That was much harder. But he couldn't find it in himself to mind.

"Oh! Takaoda finally told me I've been getting your name wrong this whole time? Why didn't you say anything? I feel like such a jackass!"

"There, uh, a good time to mention it never seemed to come up?"

"Well I have a lot of making up to do, don't I Akaashi?~"

"I'm looking forward to it."

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #valentines collab #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagines #long post #2100 words

[withcreamandsugar]

🌺🌸haseul group project in college au🌸🌺

HI IM NOT DEAD school has been kicking my ass HAHA i promise i’ll try to be more active!! enjoy this lil au i’ve been working on since literally my last post!!

“Alright class, start grouping up for the project presentation next week! Don’t procrastinate, this is worth 30% of your grade!”

You were halfway through processing what the professor had said until you realized the classrooms cliques had already started forming. Those seemingly without a group were you, a couple tongue deep in each other, and a pretty girl writing down notes while humming to herself with an airpod in her ear.

You gulped as you walked over to her, making sure not to trip over the occupied couple next to her.

“Hey, I’m y/n. Sorry to bother you but-“

You got through half your sentence before realizing she was still humming along to the song on her phone.

You tap her shoulder, and in response her eyes shoot open, meet yours and a blush begins to form.

“S-sorry! I didn’t realize you were talking to me. What did you need?”

“Haha, no worries. I just wanted to know if.. you wanted to be in a group for Prof’s project next week?”

“Wait, p-project?? Oh gosh, zoned out once I realized those two lovebirds started to go to town right next to me. I’m Haseul, and they’re my friends, Jiwoo and Sooyoung. Well, you’re welcome to join us, but I hope you don’t mind the distraction, heehee.”

You exchanged details, mentally first pumping at the idea of getting a girl like her’s number, and decided to work on the project during the upcoming weekend.

“WHAT??”

You jumped in your chair at Haseul’s scream, and felt the gaze of the entire library glaring at your table. After a mass of hushes and sighs, you quietly inquired Haseul about what had happened.

“Those two idiots decided to take the weekend off in Busan! IN BUSAN!”

After yet another mass of hushes, you desperately tried to get Haseul to calm down.

“Okay, it’s okay. Uhh, so let’s see... We only have 3 days until the presentation, so if we pull an all nighter we can probably get... 90% of the work done by the end of the weekend.”

You heard her audibly gulp. “Did you say... all nighter?” She looked up at you with puppy dog eyes and a pout, then collapsed face first into the library table.

“I’ll buy us coffees.” She groaned, still face down on the table. “Make that two coffees. And a cookie.” patting her on the head as you headed to the cafe.

“Good thing my head was down,” Haseul thought, as her face had instantly started blushing.

~~two coffees and a cookie later~~

The two of you worked hours on end on the presentation, nitpicking every meticulous detail fueled by the burst of caffeine. You notice Haseul’s tip-taps on her laptop keyboard grow progressively louder, culminating in a frustrated groan/growl.

“Everything alright Haseul?” you asked

“I can’t get this stupid image to compile!” She started smacking the laptop screen between every word - “If only this old jank piece of shi-“

“Hey, hey!” You grasped her smacking arm without thinking and held it for a short moment, leading to both of you awkwardly pulling back and looking away. “I-I think now would be a great time for a break.”

“But if we stop working we won’t be able to finish by Mon-“

“So I’ll keep working. You need to rest. Come over on my side of the bench and take a nap, you can lay on my backpack.”

Haseul let out a long sigh. “That doesn’t sound very comfortable.” Haseul remarked snarkily with a smirk.

“You’d be surprised at how comfortable a Psych 114 textbook is. Great lumbar support,” you jabbed back.

“Har har. I’ll take your word for it.” Haseul sauntered over and took up your offer.

Not even an hour into your work grind you get bored and look over to see Haseul splayed out on the bench, already deep in sleep. You thought this would be a perfect photo op for later, so you sneak over and hover your phone over the sleeping beauty’s not so beautiful drooling face. You snap a few pics, giggling at the idea of showing them to her later.

However, you suddenly lose your grip on the phone and to avoid dropping it on her face, you quickly swipe it away to the side. The jerk in movement causes you to fall out of balance and stumble on top of Haseul on all fours.

The two of you look at each other in utter disbelief, eyes wide open at the situation you find yourselves in. You look at each other for a very long time, the library’s silence deafening more than ever. Your heart races as you question what to do before beginning to push yourself off of her.

All of a sudden, Haseul grabs your arm much like you did hers prior. “Now or never,” the two of you simultaneously thought. You lean in slowly, eyes closed, every second feeling like a millenia. The two of you are hairs apart when you hear,

RIIIING. RIIIING. RIIIING.

Your phone blares, echoing throughout the silent library. You jump up instinctively and rush over to answer, hearing a familiar voice.

“Heeeeeeey good morning y/n!! I hope you and Haseul didn’tmiss us too much, heehee! It turns out, Sooyoung and I missed our train to Busan last night, so we can work on the project after all. See you at the library in 5? Later!!”

Ears ringing you shut the phone, laughing to yourself at the irony of the situation. You remember the situation you were in a minute ago and turn your vision back to Haseul.

Haseul sheepishly looks down, avoiding eye contact. “S-so about the project! I can continue working on-“

Haseul got through half her sentence before you placed a fleeting peck on her lips, leaving her astounded. She covered her face with her hands, her cheeks almost matching her red nail polish. “W-why? Not that I minded or anything!”

“I just thought I needed to get that through before you kill me,” as you showed her your phone screen, slowly swiping through the multitude of her sleeping photos taken at numerous unflattering angles, before starting to run away in fear and/or joy.

“Ya! Delete those!” She ran after you, throwing the contents of your comfy backpack at you as the two of you started a wild goose chase around the empty library. “I can’t believe I ever thought about liking you!”

You thought to yourself mid sprint and out of breath, “I found her.”

#loona imagines #loona scenarios #loona #loona 1/3 #haseul #loona haseul #loona fanfic #loona fluff #jo haseul #loona reactions #loona oneshots #loona headcanons #loona x reader

[404fmdminjung]

creative claims — blueming

summary: written during the course of promotions for loveforclosure. she finds one sense of home in the fans, writes a song to the people that shower her with love. (basically coming off a high of a well-received comeback). warnings: none wc: 1906 (not including lyrics)

in retrospect, time changes a lot of things.

a year prior, and a flop of a song — the signs all pointing straight towards the shackles of gold star’s dungeon. now, they’ve shined her up. polished the record out for the masses, and the pour of public love in the horizon. no longer a flop, the rough and jagged edges of each comment to tear her apart and strip her semblance piece by piece become softened, blurred at the lines. angry voices poured at the expensive of fingers tapping against the keyboard with the anonymous faces now refreshed and shifted towards positive praise, comments statured with hearts and support.

how do you handle the sudden 180 when your heart also falters, and teeters towards the change of pace?

minjung surely doesn’t know. doesn’t know how to cope, so her hands remain on the edges of her notebook, one hand out pulling the pages apart inside a moving van that takes her to the first schedule of promotions.

blue. she jots that down quickly, let’s the dips in the road add character to each crooked line scrawled on the stage. blue used to be synonymous with dreary melancholy, strapped down to the midnight dreariness of a city that never sleeps. she painted herself blue once, downed by the ridicule of modern day public execution via the comments. now, she blooms.

-

stages after the first two become easier. synonymous with echoes and the small trinkets and packages of gifts given when she hops back into the guise of privacy, into the van. she’s back at stage one, notebook in pocket, phone in hand.

she remembers the first few instances hopping into a kakao chat dedicated to her —  even manages to get kicked off a few times before staying on, and hearing the outpour of cheer and love dedicated. 

when she gets off, says her goodbyes, she realizes one thing’s changed: her heart blooms, softens with each message sent. enough to stir the grin across her cheeks when her smile hangs steady with eyes that gleam over the page written ‘blue’.

it’s an uncanny feeling, feeling filled more to the tips of the brim with each passing day — a feeling novel, something she still can’t handle whole.

what i said what’s up i really meant i miss you.

all along, the missing shade of blue she’s forgotten on the canvas layered and layer, is love around. memories wiped from a missing skeleton of her pass, and she fails to realize — the love settled around, is the one she’s neglected to see for more than face value till now.

in each and every emoji my subtle feelings keep changing, i wonder if you know

she recollects the past five minutes on her phone in the group chat, the small tidbits of surprise now caked onto a revelation. her monotone speech patterns and quick sent texts, subjugated to a more personalized form as the seconds tick on. busyness, fatigue. it’s all an empty excuse when her heart flutters with a tinge upward, thoughts of fans now filling the crevices of her fragmented heart.

insomnia, lack of sleep. she’s running on two hours bustling from one schedule to the next. but seo minjung has never followed the textbook rules of what to feel and at what time. she’s an outsider looking in, going against the force and the nature of tides pushing one way to another. because where fatigue should rest heavy on her shoulders, now — she’s no longer drowning. instead, stepping higher into the clouds like stargirl. girl with a light heart, and now she’s drunk with a scent of resolution.

i’m making roses blossom with my thumb i think i’m getting drunk with the scent it’s in our own secret garden.

-

the high doesn’t wind down as schedules persist. instead, each day she’s met with the feelings of a hurricane. ripped from her roots, heart fleshed open when the smile no longer seizes itself faux, but as a token of genuine ties each time she sits down, resorts back to the words compiling on the page.

this song’s for them. the lyrics, each one in a one-on-one head-first conversation. ideation that perhaps, this becomes a fleeting moment. a transient piece where they’re sitting at top of the climax before it all topples over, downward straight to hell. but she’s not a worrier, doesn’t bother looking back.

(for once, she chooses to relish this moment right here).

i feel bloom, i’m sending you one more flower updating you with my all-nighter work the author of this interesting piece of work, that’s me maybe this is the climax of the relationship

the nip of her pen glides freely against the page, her own welcome to her headspace. no beat, no notes in mind. rather, it’s the diary that opens up the beginnings of what’s right in her heart now.

—

there’s an itch under her skin — one rarely ignored. it comes at a pang to her gut, knocks the sleepless night right into her, prompting her to make a beeline towards the makeshift studio in her apartment.

here and there, she tries to think of a tune. a slow pull of languid minors, layering on the heaviness of desolation in navy’s. she doesn’t want that, least not a ballad coming off the tails of another — she scraps that, saves the file and backlogs it for another day. then comes the juxtaposition of jazzy facts, the strong isolation of saxophones and trombones — a drop in a rough beat, painting the song a vibrant cobalt. it’s one worth dancing to, boppy tunes to wreck havoc on a stage. still, it renders itself useless by the time she shoves that rendition straight to the trash can.

no notes in any sort of transition, instead she finds solace on the guitar she hasn’t touched in a near two months. it hangs, lingers on like a presence in the room — she makes a note, guitar. scribbled at the top of her page before ushering herself back to the confines of her bed.

-

a day off, and the song resurrects itself through the guitar nestled in her arms. she strums herself a chord in a minor, a major — finds the three notes, clamored down to the cacophony of something bright. still, decides it remains a stretch to keep it with too much embellishment. instead, she plucks the notes apart from each other — one by one, f into c. c into e, hitting a baseline at g.

at this point, it drops the seedlings to something promising and light. the shade of periwinkle she’s envisioned all along — it’s light to touch, easy to the ears. breathless in a come-and-dance with me switch. minjung repeats the plucking, one by one, till the solidification of the notes come full circle once the record button presses and her voice hums along to the melody etched in-between.

it starts at an easy lull before she paves way with the full-on start of the chords all at once by the time the chorus hits. two chords, a pause. then the entrance of the next two in repeat — at this point, it’s no longer and algorithm of what makes the numbers on the chart or a fragment of herself embodied into a play. instead, it’s the drive of having fun, enjoying each second put into the process.

(trust the process, nobody ever said it was going to be easy).

it sounds digital by the time she puts the first line of guitar work down. the recordings now becoming repetitive, one after another — a simple base in bare bones, nothing flashy or a change in the tempo. it all charges steadily, following expectations of the song’s natural rhythm.

her mouse clicks around and by now, it’s the addition of the percussion. the simple add-on to where she imagines the first verse tuning in — the deep percussion adds a depth to the periwinkle, the wrinkles of something more saturated, less fluttery. 

the essence of the song’s been fluttery heartbeats. the intangible things unspoken from her to the fans, and for now — she makes her mark by saving the file, setting aside for another day with her arms stretched out, enough for the yawn to escape in broad daylight.

no makeup, sitting inside some rugged sweats and a t-shirt. (this feels like the first in a long time where home’s presented a new look).

-

by the time she resorts back, it’s the end of promotions — free days shifted in between preparations for fuse’s next comeback. her heart’s no where near hands-up, long far with her cold shoulder response becoming synonymous with the lackluster dead-eyed expression for a mind that’s been humming hte melody to the song written in the books.

her own sense of peace, and her piece of privacy. solo work, now trumping and reigning on top of anything else presented to her.

she’s thought about it all day — the backing vocals, the ad-libs. where to start, and where to end. by the time she finds herself situated in front of her screen, her notebook sprawled out and jaded eyes that click around to the record. she starts with the ah-ah-ah’s, the makeshift forced rhymes that fall at the end of each verse. tunes her voice back in for the lulls of simple humming.

yet, by the time she sits down, plays back the puzzle pieces of what’s the marred total composition on her screen, she furrows her brow. bites down on her lip, pen in hand. the end of the pen taps on the surface of her desk, mind still buried inside the missing facet. imagination and creativity doesn’t spur when you want it to — it’s once again the process and the clicks of the mouse transitioning one type, to another.

seo minjung settles on the synth and the slow paced transitioning of warping her voice to an electronic belt. like stereo noise, it thins out where she wants it to be. almost muting it down to a subtle pull, a settled flesh of a song that makes her hear from the next room over. her mouth furls into a grin, a toothy grin saved for instances like these.

because what this song isn’t a piece of her anymore. nor a recollection of heartbreak on repeat.

instead, it’s fruitful, light and airy. like she’s floating on a cloud, far far away with her hands reached far apart, slotted to the love the fans boost her on. whether they’re a mirage of fusions or the few that brand themselves as a heart only filled by hear — she doesn’t care. it’s all an ode to them at this point.

no longer hiding behind her cowardice, wallowing around in the has-beens and the what-ifs of a play by play scenario. this time, this song goes out to a crowd that helped her remain stationed and whole, billowing with the calm sense of comfort.

comfort comes in many ways, home defines itself new each time.

only, this time she doesn’t sway from one new cloud or another pillar of stability. she’s still a nomad, wandering from one welcoming house to the next, filled with the fireplace of warmth and a comfortable meal. whatever food they home, they offer. she accepts — home’s a place where you define it. right now, seo minjung defines home with where the people are, wrapped up in open arms and a belonging.

whether she’s the ballader on stage. the travesty walking on yesterday’s heartbreak or the dancing diva in haphazard movements —they’ve accepted her for what she leaves at face value. the songs weren’t meant to soothe wounds or an album to flesh out the bad — it was an attempt at closure. and what she got in return, is the closure she least expected.

#fmdverification

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (19) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hi pals! so this was probs one of my top 3 fav chapters to write out of the whole fic. it’s got so many things that i just love, and i so hope u will love it too. i should probs make it clear that this isn’t the end of the fic! it’s going to have 21 chapters, so there’s two more to come after this (omg only 2????? bitch wtf???? WTF???). thank u guys for all the love my ask box gets flooded with after every chapter, i’m always so so excited when i see it so thank u so much, i really appreciate it!! here we go with n19f19 xoxo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: there were confessions of love in a karaoke bar.

this chapter: a month on from the events of last chapter and with final exams and dissertations looming, Brooke thinks she can avoid Vanessa until graduation without having to confront anything that’s happened between them. this proves difficult when she’s trapped in the library with her.

***

Brooke was fine. She was more than fine, actually, she was good. She was calm, serene, fucking zen. If it wasn’t for the dissertation she had to hand in a week from now she would have ascended to Buddha-like status, doling out study tips to her friends like proverbs.

Brooke had always been good at exams. She’d been a straight-A student back in Canada, the whole process of revision coming naturally to her. She’d bought designated ringbinders for every subject, poring over textbooks and copying information out in messy cursive until she’d filled her whole refill pad. When she’d walked into the big assembly hall on exam day, she didn’t get the usual churning of her stomach or shaky hands that her friends had always described. It was almost as if the hall reminded her of taking ballet exams when she was a girl- she knew what to do, she had all the information in her head somewhere, and all that was required of her was to think and write.

Essays, however, had never come easy, which was a shame as they essentially formed the basis of Brooke’s degree. There wasn’t the fast-paced element to essays as there were to exams, and lengthy deadlines gave Brooke time to overthink, redraft, panic, delete, then do the whole process over again. She’d never fully got the hang of them; add in the fact a different tutor marked what she’d written every time and her grades were practically a lottery. She knew this element would follow her throughout her career- writing, fashion design, God even her ballet exams from years ago- it was all a form of art, and art was subjective. She knew there were designers out there that were universally respected, but none were universally liked. Nothing was universally liked. In an exam, there was a set of right or wrong answers, but essays were open to interpretation. An interpretation that her degree classification depended on.

Stretching and feeling her spine bump against the hard plastic chair, Brooke let out a huge breath. She could still see her Mum’s face if she remembered hard enough, when she’d told her her very first mark on her very first uni assignment back in first year; the way the woman’s face had faltered a little but forced a smile and a congratulations. It was the first mark below 70% Brooke could remember in a long time, and her Mum’s disappointment still stung. Brooke was currently sitting on a 2:1, but only just. Her dissertation was going to cement what degree she received and Christ, Brooke would be lying if she said the pressure wasn’t getting to her ever so slightly. It was at the stage where she was taking a beta blocker each morning before spending most of the day in the library. Sometimes she’d take another in the afternoon if she felt herself starting to panic. Maybe that was the reason she was so chill.

Looking at her laptop and the block of black text against white digital paper, she rubbed her eyes and glanced through the huge floor-to-ceiling pane of glass to her left. Her own sleepy face gazed back at her, the view rendered invisible due to the pitch black outside. Brooke didn’t dare look at the time, but she knew it had to be late if it was this dark at the end of April. Casting her eyes to Nina, she couldn’t help but give a snort of a laugh.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brooke asked, looking at the exploded rainbow of colour-coded flash cards that were strewn across the girl’s desk and spilling out onto the floor. There were scribbly neon post-it notes stuck all over her laptop screen and Nina probably had half the library stacked up in high-rise tower blocks on her desk. A quick glance at her screen showed Brooke that Nina had roughly sixty tabs open.

“My goddamn best.”

Brooke let out another laugh as Nina gestured helplessly at the mess in front of her. “Jesus Christ, Brooke, how the hell am I going to be a teacher if I’m this disorganised?”

Brooke gave a little shrug and raised her eyebrows. “I dread to think what your classroom desk is going to be like.”

“Probably going to accidentally kill a child on my first day. Nudge over a big pile of papers on my desk, boof. Dead,” Nina giggled, then let out a huge laugh and instantly clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. The action made Brooke laugh out loud too until the pair were having a silent laughing fit in the exact place they weren’t supposed to be making any noise.

To be fair, the top floor was pretty empty given the late hour they were there. The few people that were left were already packing up their things and leaving, laptops shut in a manner of resignation. The yellow strobe lights that hung above gave the whole place a clinical glow, and the patterns on the fuzzy green carpet all seemed to merge into one. As Brooke ran a hand through her hair and was about to check the time on her phone, loud chimes rang out over the speakers built into the ceiling.

“Would all students please be aware that the library will be closing in ten minutes, that’s ten minutes. Thank you.”

Brooke almost jumped out of her skin. She blinked, then looked at the four numbers in the bottom right-hand corner of her screen. “Nina. No way is it almost midnight.”

“God. I’m not even surprised anymore. At this point it feels like we live here,” Nina groaned, cracking her back in a way that made Brooke wince then rolling her shoulders. “I guess we should head back to the flat.”

Brooke’s ears pricked as she heard a commotion from the other end of the floor. It sounded like a thunder of footsteps and a hissed argument. Turning slowly, Brooke’s heart sank as she saw exactly who she’d hoped she’d be able to avoid until graduation day.

Silky and Vanessa were standing at the printer a mere two sets of desks away from her and Nina. Silky seemed to be printing something out and insisting she wouldn’t be long as Vanessa tapped her heel against the carpeted floor impatiently, her Converse almost wearing a hole in the floor. Despite the late hour her makeup was still perfectly applied, and her hair was half hanging loose over her shoulders and half swept up into a haphazard topknot. Brooke pictured Vanessa growing frustrated at her desk, fretting over some form of past paper and tearing her hands through her hair, tugging her brown locks up and securing them with a hair tie. Brooke hoped she wasn’t too stressed about her finals. She remembered that when they were together Vanessa had had some form of big essay due, and she’d sat up in bed exhaling and worrying, typing furiously with her long nails crashing against the keyboard of her laptop like angry waves. Brooke had quietly brought her tea, wordlessly pressed a kiss to her temple, and Vanessa had cast her a soft smile that had made Brooke’s heart set alight.

Just then Silky looked across the room, saw her, and began to wave. Fuck. Brooke watched as Vanessa cast her gaze over to where she sat. Her eyes widened when she laid them on Brooke and she tilted her head to the sky, barely hiding a gigantic roll of her eyes as she followed Silky over to Brooke and Nina. Brooke had in the time it took for the girls to reach their desk to decide how she wanted to play this. It was a tough decision. Because in the month-and-a-bit since their dalliance in the hot tub, and an even shorter time since her crying meltdown to Scarlet in the Swan toilets, Brooke had developed a hard, harsh exoskeleton for herself that involved channeling all the love and regret she felt for Vanessa into venom, poison and dislike. If Vanessa wanted to be petty and unkind and rude to her, then fuck it. Brooke would be the exact same back. She’d tried it out already- responding to thinly-veiled barbs in the groupchat, ignoring her if they saw each other. Brooke didn’t want to act that way, didn’t want to do any of it, but she forced herself to do it in the way a small child had to be forced to eat vegetables; it was what was good for her. Good for them both. It was better that Vanessa hated her. She’d tried loving her and look where the fuck that had ended up.

The issue was, the frosty behaviour she’d return to Vanessa was uncontrollable. She knew it was causing vibes and tension in the group, splitting them all up and causing cracks and fractures in a time where they were meant to be closer than ever. Yvie had had words with her, as had Nina. It hadn’t got them anywhere. Brooke had tried to reach out to Vanessa, offered her so many olive branches that Vanessa had just started beating Brooke black and blue with them. Brooke knew it was for the best if she acted like the complete bitch that Vanessa thought she was.

“Hey, sisters! What you both doin’ here so late?” Silky asked cheerfully as she reached the girls. Brooke stuck a smile on her face, tried not to look at Vanessa and then failed. Her thick eyelashes were cast to the floor as she scuffed the carpet with her shoe. Brooke felt a stab at her heart. Luckily, Nina took over.

“Christ, I was just saying to Brooke it feels like we’ve moved in here. My diss is due on Friday and I’m stressed out of my mind. What’re you guys up to?”

Silky waved a thick stack of paper at Nina as if she was showing her evidence. “We were down on floor one but the janitor’s chucking people out. I needed some readings and figured he’d get up here last, so I just came to the top floor to use the printer.”

“Yeah, and we’re done now, so let’s go. I need to pee before we leave,” Vanessa muttered to her flatmate, her voice dull as she still didn’t tear her gaze from the floor.

Nina’s cheerful smile faltered. Silky, to her credit, looked embarrassed by Vanessa’s sulky behaviour. To Brooke’s dismay, Nina shoved all of her index cards onto her laptop keyboard and slammed it closed. “Well, hey! We were just leaving. We’ll come with you.”

Vanessa’s face twisted into one of discomfort. “Nah, Nina, really, it’s fine. I’m gonna head to the bathroom anyway-”

“We can wait for you! It’s no big deal!”

Brooke’s heart sank. Great. An excruciating walk back outside with the girl that hated her most in the world. Just as she was about to bullshit a reason why they couldn’t, Silky enthusiastically agreed. Brooke watched Vanessa bite her lip in frustration, give a forced fake smile and nod. They were both united in the fact that it was a situation neither of them wanted to be in. It was the closest Brooke had felt to Vanessa in a while.

Nina and Silky filled the silence on their way to the library toilets. They were only beside the lifts so not that far away, but every step felt as if it lasted a million years. Finally, mercifully, the girls came to the toilets and Vanessa ducked inside. As they waited, Brooke just wished and hoped she’d be quick so the awkward situation would be over sooner rather than later. One minute turned into two, and Silky became impatient. Brooke watched as she wrenched open the door and yelled inside.

“VANJ, C’MON! THE PLACE IS CLOSING SOON!” she shouted into the room, muttering under her breath something about Vanessa having a bladder like the Hindenburg. Brooke tried to be patient and cast her eyes up to the ceiling. Looking back into the floor of the library, she was alarmed to find it completely empty, void of people. It could have been that she was startled, but she gave a shout into the bathroom too.

“Vanjie, hurry up! Jesus!”

At this point Vanessa was standing blasting her hands with air from the dryer. She shouted something back at Brooke that Brooke couldn’t hear over the air jets, but she could hazard a guess as to what it was. Finally, Vanessa stormed out.

“Fuck me, will you girls hop off my dick? Can I not pee in peace without you rushing me along? We’ve got ages! It’s fine!”

And then everything was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Brooke gave an involuntary cry of fear, felt someone grab her hand. Looking down at her interlocked fingers and then up to who it was connected to, she was shocked to see Vanessa, her face illuminated in the green fire escape sign and completely petrified. All at once she seemed to realise what she’d done and dropped Brooke’s hand like it was made of hot metal. Nina had fallen silent, her expression one of shock, and Silky was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Fuck,” Brooke found herself saying. Her mouth had gone completely dry.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, they’ll just be turning off the lights before they lock up. Let’s just hurry up and get the lift,” Silky reassured them, but Brooke didn’t miss the worried frown that was set on her face as the four of them walked quickly. Vanessa reached the button first, scrabbled at it with her fingers. The little white light that usually illuminated the panel didn’t turn on.

“Oh my God this can’t be happening,” Nina whispered, her voice panicked and fast. Silky rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but the frown on her face was deepening. Reaching out, she pressed the same button firmly, jamming it into its little metal pad. Nothing. The girls stood in silence for only a few seconds, listening for the metal whirrs and clunks that the lift usually made on its way up or down the building. Nothing came.

“Stairs,” Vanessa said simply, her voice full of worry as she suddenly dashed in the direction of the stairwell. The three other girls followed and all pretence of remaining calm and walking was truly out the window as their trainers squeaked over the linoleum, feet thumping harshly against the steps as they tore down flight after flight. Brooke’s pulse was speeding so fast she thought she would have a heart attack, and the bones of her feet began to hurt more with every step she launched herself down two-at-a-time. Breathless and frantic, they finally reached the bottom floor, Vanessa crashing through the double doors at the bottom of the stairwell and speeding across the lobby to the main entrance. Brooke was hot on her heels, her heart now painful in her chest and her breath coming in thick, uncomfortable wheezes. Any hope she’d had sank to the floor with her gut as Vanessa pounded the automatic doors and almost wrenched the fire door off its hinges in an attempt to get out. It was to no avail.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Nina repeated, her hands flying to her face as it blanched in fear.

“Fucking shit- HELLO? HELLO? WE’RE STILL IN HERE!” Silky yelled at the top of her lungs to nobody in particular.

“Guys, I don’t like this,” Brooke said, hearing the shake in her own voice as her eyes darted around the huge, dark building frantically.

“No shit, really? I’m having a fuckin’ whale of a time, personally,” Vanessa hissed, casting a glare her way before going back to shaking the doorhandles in a futile attempt to open them. Brooke felt her face curl up in a sneer, all the fear she’d felt previously moved into a convenient little box and replaced with all-consuming anger.

“Ugh, JESUS, Vanessa, of course, of fucking course, we’re literally locked in a uni building with no way out and you choose to start picking a fight with me. Big fucking-”

“ENOUGH!” Nina shouted, Brooke taken aback. She had known Nina for almost three years now, and in that time she’d never heard her shout. Well, she’d heard her shout with happiness or joy or fear, but never anger like this. She felt like one of her primary school kids as Nina continued. “Both of you just shut the fuck up for one fucking minute! Can we at least just find a way out of here before you start a fucking domestic?”

“I’ll take the cafe,” Silky said decisively, shouting to the others as she ran in the opposite direction. “Nina go right, Brooke and Vanjie go left.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes, looking again at Vanessa whose gaze mirrored Brooke’s. Relenting and not wanting to risk another telling-off from Nina, Brooke obediently tore off in the direction Silky had told her to go. She weaved her way through desks and bookshelves, checking every window only to find them all locked. As she was losing hope, the dull, green light of a fire escape sign caught her eye. Brooke sighed with relief as she tore towards it. This was surely a guaranteed way out. Reaching the tall door, Brooke slammed her hands on the cold, metal bar that lay across it, pushed down, and waited for the cold night air to hit her face and calm down her panic.

Nothing.

Brooke frowned, trying again and pushing harder at the bar. This time she got her shoulder involved, leaning all her weight against it. It didn’t so much as budge.

“We’re outta luck. They’re all locked from the outside.”

Brooke turned to see Vanessa walking purposefully towards her. Her tone was frustrated, but not towards her at least. Brooke felt relieved. She was beginning to regret snapping at Vanessa earlier, even if she was meant to dislike her. She wondered if she felt as scared as she did. Brooke thought about how Vanessa always hid her fear, remembered the time they watched some shit, gory horror movie at hers when they were together. Brooke had flinched and squealed and buried her face in Vanessa’s hoodie every two seconds while Vanessa had laughed at her, told her it was all fine and fake, but Brooke could feel Vanessa’s heart beat fast in her chest and her stomach muscles tensing every time a new horrific sight appeared on screen.

Vanessa leant against the bar that Brooke had tried, punctuating it with an angry kick of her foot. “That shit’s illegal, you know. Locking a fire door. We could sue fuck outta them.”

Brooke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Yeah I’m sure we, twentysomething students with collectively hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of debt, have both the resources and the influence to sue the university. They’d shit themselves.”

She watched as Vanessa looked at her, a glare about to appear in her dark eyes, then disappearing as she allowed herself a small smile and a single snort of laughter. There was a pause of silence. Brooke decided to fill it. “Let’s find the girls, maybe they found a way out.”

As they passed by the floor-to-ceiling windows again, Vanessa suddenly gasped and tore off to bang on the glass. Brooke followed her eyeline and was overjoyed to find what looked to be a janitor, finishing up and walking away from the building. She joined Vanessa and pounded her fists against the window, shouting randomly if only just to make a noise. Her hope began to die, however, when instead of noticing the absolute cacophony of noise the girls created, the man simply got further and further away. Brooke watched as he got his phone out, a long earphone cord attached to it. She slumped against the glass and let out a helpless moan.

“Fucking shit bitch ass motherfucker!” Vanessa hissed in anger, pounding on the glass with her knuckles one last time. Brooke watched as she took a step back from the window, flexed her fingers and gave a hiss.

“You okay?” Brooke found herself asking. She could already feel herself frowning in concern as Vanessa nodded briskly, shaking her hand out and sticking the knuckle of one finger in her mouth.

“Fine. Just got a lil’ over-enthusiastic, cut my finger,” she spoke around her knuckle. Brooke felt a pang at her heart. She took a step towards Vanessa.

“Let’s see?”

Vanessa gave another laugh, harsher and more sardonic than her first had been. “It’s fine, Brooke, I don’t need you to kiss it better.”

Brooke held her hands up, unable to help the way her eyebrows flew up her face. “Okay, I’ll just go fuck myself!“

“Yeah, do that,” Vanessa muttered quietly, sitting on a desk beside the window and pulling her legs up to cross them. Brooke, in lieu of snapping back at the girl she’d once called her friend but had never called her girlfriend, did the same. They sat in a hostile silence, thoughts running around Brooke’s mind as to what she could do or say. So many options flooded her head that it was hard to see any of them clearly for what they were. It turned out she didn’t need to give any of them that much thought, however, as Nina and Silky soon appeared from the other end of the building.

“Oh, good! You’ve not killed each other,” Nina said brightly upon her return. Brooke snuck a quick look at Vanessa, then rolled her eyes.

“Guess you’re as shit out of luck as we are?” Silky asked, her voice quieter than usual by at least a few dozen decibels.

“Can you believe they locked the fire doors? Fuck them, man, imagine there was a real fire?” Vanessa spat bitterly. Nina sighed heavily and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“We could try calling someone?”

Brooke frowned. “Who could we call?”

“The police?” Nina said immediately, her naivety causing the others to burst out laughing.

“And say what?! Hey listen, we know you’ve got murderers to catch but we’re locked in a uni building, could you bring round a big battering ram and knock the door down?” Brooke laughed, not missing the way Vanessa laughed in response and feeling a twinkle of pride light up in her heart.

“Well, could the fire brigade get us out?” Nina suggested, Silky groaning and pulling her hands down her face.

“Nina, you need to lower your expectations of what an emergency is. Four dumb uni students trapped in the library is not gonna be considered an emergency. We’re not in danger, we’re all breathing, and none of us have been set alight. That counts the big three out immediately.”

“What about a locksmith?” Vanessa shrugged. Brooke screwed up her face.

“Ah, for those locks that automatic doors have on them,” Silky deadpanned. Brooke laughed at the comment, clearly a little too loudly because Vanessa was back scowling at her again.

“Hey, they do so have locks, bitch.”

“I don’t think you can ask a locksmith to open a house that isn’t yours,” Nina frowned. Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

“I love my house, the university library.”

“Shut up! You knew what I meant,” Nina protested, as the other girls gave a laugh again.

“Surely there’ll be some phone number online for the janitor or something?” Brooke thought suddenly, Silky quickly taking out her phone to check. There was a moment of silence as the girls held their breath in hope. Finally, Silky let out an overjoyed cry.

“Cleaning supervisor main area- based in central library! Yes ladies! We’re fucking outta here!”

Brooke smiled so hard that her face hurt as Silky held her phone to her ear. Thank God. The nightmare was over, she could go back to her flat and not be literally trapped in a building with her ex. She would soon be-

The four girls jumped as a faint ringing of a phone could be heard from out in the lobby. For the hundredth time that night, Brooke felt her heart sink.

“I don’t really know what we expected from that,” Vanessa sighed, looking every inch the kicked puppy.  

It was quickly decided that their last hope were the girls who weren’t in the library, although this went down the drain fast as it was discovered that Yvie was over at Scarlet’s flat and they were both asleep, neither Akeria nor Monet were picking up, and Plastique had gone home to revise.

“What about Monique, Vanj? Could we try her?” Nina asked. Brooke was confused at the way Vanessa’s face twisted in discomfort, a little line setting deep on her forehead.

“Nah, she, uh…she won’t pick up,” she said simply, Nina nodding quickly and neglecting to ask any more about it. It didn’t stop Brooke from being intrigued.

“What the fuck are we gonna do, then? We can’t just spend the night here,” Silky’s voice was disbelieving. Brooke gave a resigned shrug.

“Silk, I don’t think there’s any alternative. It’s only a few hours, the place’ll open up again at six. We can go upstairs and sleep in those little pods they have for group projects. Then by the time we wake up again, it’ll be morning and we can all go back to the flat,” Brooke explained calmly, although inside she still had a lot of anxiety rattling about and the dark of the library wasn’t helping.

The girls reluctantly agreed that it was probably the only thing that was left for them to do. In nervous silence they climbed the stairs to the first floor, where Silky immediately set up camp in one of the pods, stretching herself out along the seats that had once been cushioned but had been flattened by hundreds and thousands of sets of bums over the years. Nina took one and set her laptop back up again, arguing that she’d actually been on a pretty good streak before she’d had to pack up and wanted to see if she could churn out another thousand words before she went to sleep. Brooke peeled off from the girls and took her own pod, her tall body unable to fully fit along the seats. As she attempted to sleep, one thing kept stopping her as it usually seemed to around this time of day. She sighed, tossed and turned as she thought about Vanessa. It had all gone so badly wrong. The more she tried to get her off her mind, the more memories she was reminded of. Hurting Vanessa was easier than loving her; snapping at her and being snarky made Brooke feel bad and a bit of a bitch, but loving her and torturing herself for what an idiot she’d been made her feel ten times worse, as if her heart had been removed from its sheath in her ribcage and been stomped on, kicked about, stabbed with a blunt knife and dragged through broken glass. Any attempt to sleep was futile. Brooke’s eyes hurt with fatigue as she sat up, rubbed them and stretched. She would go and see if Nina was still awake, maybe sit up and annoy her for a while.

As she crossed the floor she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. Vanessa was sitting on the floor by the window, her legs crossed and eating a packet of crisps she’d managed to procure from somewhere. Brooke thought she looked so tiny compared to the huge pane of glass and the world that sat outside of it. Now that the lights were off, Brooke could see every detail that lay beyond the window- the soft yellow glow of the streetlights that faintly illuminated the park beside the library, the pink and white marshmallow cherry blossom trees that lined each path. A memory shot through Brooke’s mind like a lightning bolt- the eight of them in second year after their exams had all finished, having a barbecue in the park as the sun beat down and frazzled them all to a crisp, the smell of sausages and weed carried on the light breeze and the warmth in Brooke’s heart as Vanessa had teased her about something, the girls all laughing at Brooke’s embarrassment and protests.

God, they’d all been so happy.

Without really knowing what her plan was, Brooke walked over to where Vanessa was sitting and sat down cautiously beside her. The other girl looked at her, as if she was deciding whether to glare or smile. She ended up doing neither.

“Can’t sleep either?” Brooke chose as her opener, immediately regretting it for the cheesy line from a film it was. Vanessa gave a sarcastic chuckle, gestured around her.

“Apparently,” she said simply, Brooke looking at the carpet and kicking herself. There was a moment where the cogs in her brain whirred quickly, trying to come up with something else to say. Vanessa surprised her by speaking again. “I ain’t been sleeping too good lately anyway, though, so. I guess it don’t matter.”

“Me neither,” Brooke felt something click inside her, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she spoke again. “Vanessa, we need to talk.”

Vanessa kept her eyes trained on the pane of glass in front of her. “We are talking.”

“God, Ness, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” Brooke sighed, her face pleading. Vanessa’s head snapped round to face her and her eyes were what could only be described as murderous.

“Hard? Don’t fucking dare talk to me about hard,” she said, slowly and carefully and causing Brooke’s heart to frost over in fear. “This year has been shit, absolute shit, the shittest year of my life. You broke my heart- no, fuck that. You broke me. I had to take my goddamn feelings and put them all back together again, start from scratch while you swanned about absolutely fine. I am having to fight to get my average up because of the days I spent in my flat crying instead of going to lectures. Do you have any idea, Brooke, what this has been like for me?”

Brooke was silent as Vanessa continued relentlessly. “And then I finally got myself to a place where, hey, maybe I could be friends with you again! Then what happened? All the old feelings came back, didn’t they, and then we fucking…slept with each other and-”

“Hey, no,” Brooke jumped in, frowning and unable to listen to what was to come. “Don’t try to pin that on me, Vanessa, that was all you. It wasn’t me that fucking…straddled you in the hot tub and stripped off and talked about the sex I was having with other girls, was it?”

“Oh, no! You’re right. You’re correct,” Vanessa smiled sarcastically, soon getting replaced with a scowl. “You only got with me incredibly intensely in front of seven of our closest friends, who knew all the shit that’s gone down between us and watched like a fucking soap opera.”

“Well I didn’t hear you complaining at the time!” Brooke bit back, causing Vanessa to fall silent and play with a thread of her ripped jeans. Brooke let out a breath she’d been holding, took in a huge gulp of air. “Look, this is…this is off to a bad start.”

Brooke watched Vanessa’s throat move as she swallowed, her eyes cast downwards. Brooke was good at holding in her feelings, bottling them up like her life depended on it. She was terrified of feeling too much. She had no idea how this conversation was meant to start, but she knew she had to have it.

“Vanessa, I am sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but for what it’s worth, I am. I’m sorry for going about everything the wrong way. I’d never…done anything like this before, never properly seen anyone like I was seeing you, so I didn’t know how to behave. And fuck, maybe I was leading you on, and I’m sorry for that too. I just didn’t know what I wanted. Well, I thought I knew what I wanted but then I just…didn’t any more. I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t realise how much you liked me until it was too late,” Brooke cut herself off, sighing and feeling a bubble of sadness rise up in her throat. “Fuck, I’m trying to put it all the way I want it but nothing’s coming out right.”

Vanessa was looking at her, she knew it, but Brooke’s gaze had dropped to the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest. There was so much she wanted to say to Vanessa but none of the sentences she constructed in her head seemed to be sufficient.

“That night. You said that you missed me,” Vanessa’s voice was soft and small as she spoke, stripped from all the venom it had held before. “Did you mean it?”

Brooke jumped in instantly. “Yes.”

Vanessa was now looking at the floor, picking at her shoelace. “And did you mean…as a friend, or…just the sex, or…”

Brooke took a deep breath. I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. The words were so close to coming out, but she stopped them. Now wasn’t the right time, nowhere near the right time. She tried to think about what the perfect response would be, sighed, scrapped it, and decided to just simply speak. “I miss you as…everything. I miss you as whatever you want to be to me. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. I just miss you for all that you are, the person you are. I miss us,” Brooke paused, realised her last remark was slightly risky. “Interpret that…however you want.”

Brooke snuck a gaze at Vanessa. A thought struck her as memories ran round her mind, and now she had started talking it seemed she couldn’t stop. “Do you remember after we…after lazerquest. Yvie’s birthday. We met up and we spoke about things and you said something. That whatever happens, we’d be friends always. Do you remember?”

Vanessa gave a little laugh. “You can wear a set of armbands in a current, don’t mean you won’t drown.”

She saw Brooke’s confused look, shot her a bashful smile. “I never expected to…end up feeling so strongly for you at the start. Didn’t expect to get as crazy about you as I got. Man…I wish you could turn feelings off.”

Brooke felt herself frown, a deep regret settling in the pit of her stomach. “I wish that too.”

She didn’t miss the brief look of surprise that flashed across Vanessa’s face. In the lull in conversation that followed, Vanessa wordlessly pushed the packet of crisps towards Brooke. She took one. Chilli heatwave wasn’t her favourite flavour, but it was a peace offering, and she’d take what she could get.

"So I stopped sleeping with Monique,” Vanessa commented, shrugging a little. Brooke blinked, almost choked on her crisp as she raced to get a reply out.

“Uh, yeah, I did notice you were a bit weird about things when Nina said you should call her.”

Vanessa pushed some hair out of her face, puffed her cheeks up with air and blew out harshly. “Monet kinda told me…she was catching feelings, and obviously I wasn’t there for that. So I said to her we shouldn’t keep going.”

Brooke felt a little twinge of pain for Monique. The poor girl had a crush and was just caught in the crossfire. “And how did she take it?”

Vanessa stared through the glass, her gaze steadfast. “I could tell she was sad. Disappointed. She didn’t start cryin’ or nothing, but…God, I still felt bad. I liked her, you know, she was a great girl. Maybe there’s a parallel universe where she took my heart and patched it all up again and we ended up together but…that’s not what it was for me. And the more she said she understood and that she hoped I’d find happiness, the worse I felt for having to tell her I wanted something different.”

Brooke nodded. She wanted to tell Vanessa that she knew the feeling all too well, but she didn’t want to interrupt her. Vanessa turned her head slowly, finally making eye contact with Brooke, and her eyes were the softest they’d been in a while. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is…I know now what it must have been like for you to break it off with me. And yeah, it completely fuckin’ wrecked me but…you did what you had to do. So…I forgive you, Brooke Lynn.”

Brooke couldn’t quite believe Vanessa was in front of her saying all this. Instinctively she wanted to launch herself forward and hug her, thanking her for her change of heart. Just as she’d convinced herself she was almost going to do it, Vanessa spoke again. Her voice held a slightly more steely note to it now. “But I don’t forgive you for kissing me or for that night in the hot tub. That really fucked with me.”

Brooke fought the urge to snap a childish you started it at her and instead said a soft okay. She also fought the urge to reach out and place a hand on top of Vanessa’s. The building was still pitch black and silent and the girls had reached a conversational purgatory. Vanessa had forgiven her for some of her mistakes at least. This was the closure Brooke had wanted. Despite herself, she found herself opening her mouth. There was so much still unresolved.

“You must kind of hate me for that."

Vanessa snorted, tilted her head to the sky. "I do and I don’t.”

A small silence. Brooke knew what she wanted to say, knew what topic she wanted to breach, but it meant plunging head first into the icy chill of the great unknown, and as much as she wanted to talk about it she was terrified of doing so.

“Is that because part of you loves me?”

It was out before Brooke knew it. Vanessa had frozen, her body unmoving with her head still positioned towards the ceiling like a terrifying Exorcist yoga pose. Brooke could immediately predict it, could practically hear it- Vanessa’s quick, sarcastic response, don’t flatter yourself, her getting up and thundering away to another part of the building in some angry game of hide and seek. She couldn’t face any of those options, so Brooke continued talking. “I was in the bathroom at the same time. In the next stall along from you and the girls. I heard you say that you never got to tell me. Did you mean it?”

“Why are you asking me this, Brooke? Is it to add insult to injury? Is it not enough knowing that the girl you broke it off with can still come crawling back into bed with you so easily, you have to rub salt into the wound by getting me to fucking…” Brooke heard Vanessa take a big deep, shaky breath, felt the tears prick at the corners of her own eyes. “…admit that I’m in love with you, yes, okay? I love you. What’s the reason?”

“Because I…fuck,” Brooke jumped in then immediately stopped. She felt her jaw wire itself shut, almost paralysed with fear. She didn’t know if she could verbalise everything she was feeling. “I’m not good at talking about this stuff.”

“No shit, Miss Marple,” Vanessa quipped bitterly, her eyes back looking at the carpet and avoiding Brooke’s gaze. The lack of eye contact helped Brooke. She carried on.

“You know, I used to lie in bed before I went to sleep and rehearse what I would say to you to tell you I liked you,” Brooke gave a laugh, remembering when things were more simple. “Except none of it worked out that way. And now I’ve actually got a second chance at it, I’m almost too frightened to say it. I completely fucked it with you, Vanessa. You’re an absolute one of a kind person. Your smile just makes me happy whether or not it’s directed at me. The love and loyalty you have for your friends makes me proud of you. You’re so determined and hard working and you’re smashing your degree. And you’re kind. You see the good in everyone and you’re not afraid to feel and tell the world all about it. All these things that I just…love about you. It took me being away from you and making the biggest mistake of my life, and that night when we were together like everything was back to normal, it took all of that to make me realise that I’m…fuck..”

Brooke almost hadn’t realised she was crying until a sob bubbled up in her throat, almost choking her. It was almost like her body’s survival mechanism, trying to save her from the potential rejection she might face once the words were out.

Fuck it.

“I’m in love with you. I love you so much that it scares me. It scares me more than being fucking…trapped in the library in the pitch black with no way out,” Brooke let out a hybrid of a laugh and a sob. By now, Vanessa had lifted her gaze to look at Brooke, and Brooke had shifted hers so she could protect herself from Vanessa’s reaction. “Because I don’t want to hurt you again, and you deserve better than someone like me.”

“Then don’t,” Vanessa said quietly.

“What?” Brooke whispered, confused. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and jammed them under her eyes, used them to stop the tears from escaping.

“You said you don’t want to hurt me again. Then don’t,” Vanessa repeated patiently. Brooke blinked. She had no idea what that meant, so she went with the knowledge she had at hand.

“I love you, and you love me,” Brooke said softly, finally meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “Can we…do something with that information?”

Vanessa let out a loud blast of a laugh, making Brooke giggle even though she didn’t know what was funny. “God, that’s the most Brooke Lynn Hytes way of asking me out ever. Can we do something with that information.”

Vanessa’s smile was infectious. It lit up Brooke’s heart and she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her gently, to make Vanessa hers properly this time. As her smile faded though, Brooke felt her hope fade too. Vanessa let out a world-weary sigh. “Brooke, I don’t…I don’t know if I can do this all over again.”

Brooke’s heart dropped to the floor and shattered. She wanted to say something, fill the silence and reassure her, but nothing came out. She had opened up, and it had all been for nothing. This was her karma- she had broken Vanessa’s heart and now here was Vanessa breaking hers. She felt crushed. Lacking the energy to do it properly, she nodded her head once, the action small and probably barely noticeable.

It was so quiet that Brooke could hear Vanessa swallow beside her, hear her breathing deeply to calm herself down before she spoke. “You never hear it in the movies but sometimes…sometimes love isn’t enough, you know, sometimes you need to put yourself first, and sometimes the person you love ain’t necessarily the one who ends up making you happiest.”

Brooke felt her chest grow tight, felt ashamed as her head hung to the floor. She saw two tears fall from her eyes and drop onto the carpet, making identical, miniscule ponds.

“But then also,” Vanessa continued, the but aspect causing Brooke’s heart to dip and soar upwards as if it was on a rollercoaster. “I love you for a reason, don’t I? The way that you say shit that’s all sarcastic and funny. The way you make me laugh. The way you’re always blunt and truthful, and when you say nice things to me it feels like you’re just saying a fact. The way you got this childish, immature streak to you that makes everything feel like an adventure when I’m with you. You listen in the best way, ‘cause you never try an’ force advice down anyone’s throat. You’re always so concerned about everyone you care for and want them to be happy…and even though you ain’t good at expressin’ it, I know you have feelings and I know they scare you. You’re like a fuckin…model, you’re so beautiful and perfect. So that’s as simple as it has to be, right?”

Brooke looked up and saw tears in Vanessa’s own eyes. All the honesty was so raw and painful, like burnt or grazed skin, and it hurt and stung as if it was real. It was real. Brooke hid a sob, took a deep breath. “I don’t, uh. I don’t know where we take this.”

“I want to be with you. I want to love and be loved, feel my heart fuckin’…burst like it’s made of confetti,” Vanessa continued, letting out what could have been a sob or a laugh. “But I want to be happy. I don’t want to be hurt again. I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too,” Brooke nodded, feeling the tracks the tears were making down her face. She sighed, the pain in her heart too heavy for her to carry. “Fuck, maybe we’re just not meant for each other, maybe we got our chance already. Maybe nothing should come of this-”

“But, fuck, I love you, Brooke! And you love me,” Vanessa sighed in exasperation, her mascara collecting under her eyes as her own tears continued to fall. “And that…that means something.”

“I love you,” Brooke repeated, in case it counted for anything. It meant the world to her. Vanessa gave a sad smile, reached out and took Brooke’s hand and laced their fingers together. She squeezed Brooke’s hand twice, and the simple gesture made Brooke hopeful that everything was going to be okay.

“Shit, I waited so long to hear you say that and now it’s like…” Vanessa began sadly, trailing off. Brooke didn’t push her to finish her sentence. Instead, she squeezed her hand like Vanessa had done with hers. The action seemed to work as a prompt, because she spoke again, tilting her head with curiosity. “What do you want outta all this?”

Brooke knew immediately. “I want you. I want us to be us again.”

Vanessa let out a soft sigh, paused. “Okay, well. I don’t know what I want right now, Brooke. An’ it’s gonna be hard to start again. So you’re gonna need to give me time to decide.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait for you. You can take all the time you need,” Brooke reassured her instantly. “I’ll still be here.”

Vanessa’s hand shifted in her own. Brooke watched as she frowned a little, cast her gaze her way again. "You mean that?”

“I mean it. Whatever you decide. Whether we’re worth an extra chance or not. I’ll wait for you.”

A small smile crept onto Vanessa’s face as Brooke waited for her reply. “That’s the most romantic shit anyone ever said to me.”

“Well, it’s just the truth,” Brooke muttered, feeling her cheeks grow hot and glad that the dark room would hide her pink blush. Then, getting an idea and feeling a little spark of that childishness and immaturity Vanessa seemed to love so much, Brooke let go of Vanessa’s hand and held out her other one for her to shake. The other girl looked at her, a funny, confused smile on her face as she took her hand and shook it obediently.

“Hey. I’m Brooke Lynn,” she began, trying to suppress her smile as she spoke. Vanessa giggled, falling back a little then leaning forward.

“What are you…”

“Starting again. What’s your name, beautiful?” Brooke teased, all the darkness somehow bursting into colour as Vanessa laughed beside her, swatting her on her arm with her hand. She hadn’t seen this Vanessa in so long; happy, laughing, cheerful and playful. Brooke could’ve cried with how much she’d missed her.

“This is some dumbass shit, you know that?” Vanessa giggled, but Brooke could see the blush on her own cheeks illuminated by the streetlamps outside. Vanessa appeared to see her expectant face, laughed a resigned laugh and indulged her. “Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Vanjie. Well, Vanessa, but everyone calls me Vanjie.”

“Can I call you Vanessa? It’s pretty. It suits you.”

Vanessa laughed again, making Brooke give a chuckle too. “Bitch! You never flirted with me this hard the first time.”

“Well the first time we were friends, so I couldn’t flirt with you. Not properly like I wanted to anyway,” Brooke laughed, taking a Dorito and throwing it at her playfully. Vanessa squealed, toppling herself out of the way. “You, on the other hand, flirted all the time.”

“I’m a flirtatious person! You shouldn’t have taken that shit personal,” Vanessa protested, attempting to look offended but unable to wipe the smile off her face.

“So Vanessa,” Brooke carried on, trying to stop herself smiling as she carried on with the charade. “What are you studying?”

They carried on like that all through the night, being silly and getting to know each other again right from the very beginning. They had missed out on so much conversation over the past few months that it was actually nice to catch up, to re-establish herself in Vanessa’s life. She was looking at graduate jobs in events management for after uni and thinking of moving home to save money. For a fleeting moment Brooke almost suggested that they move in together but she was glad she had the sense not to verbalise that, a thought that was perhaps better bottled up and saved for another time. After all, Vanessa hadn’t even decided if she wanted to be with Brooke or not yet. Brooke had to cling on to the hope that maybe she would, because she had nothing else. Well, that was a lie. She had Vanessa’s smile and her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes when Brooke made a deadpan comment. She had the way Vanessa opened up to her, told her how scared she was of trying to navigate the world on her own after she graduated. She had the way that Vanessa shuffled close to her when the sun eventually began to rise, its glow a burnt orange ombre into a soft yellow which faded into the gentle blue of the morning sky. She had the way Vanessa’s head fit perfectly into the crook of her neck as, worn out and exhausted, she closed her eyes and dozed off in Brooke’s tentative arms.

Most of all, she had the fact that Vanessa loved her, and Brooke loved her back. And even though it hadn’t been the movie scene confession Brooke had been expecting, that fact, the sunrise, and Vanessa sleeping softly against her chest was enough for her for the moment.  

#rpdr fanfiction #not nineteen forever #n19f #ortega #branjie #scyvie #ninex #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #college au #university au #nina west #silky nutmeg ganache #s11

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 2

Warnings: some language, secondhand embarrassment

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: What a gif to use amirite ;) Thank y’all so much for your responses to the first chapter! It was so encouraging, which is why I’m 2 chapters ahead on the writing for this fic lol. So keep telling me what you think! <3

“We have a few appointments set for today,” Charlotte, the front desk nurse, was saying. “But they’re just wellness checkups, so nothing crazy.”

Y/N nodded, tucking a pen into the pocket of her lab coat. “So these are regular patients?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yep, the usual. It’s a small town, so you’ll see the same faces plenty while you’re here.” She sipped water from her large tumbler as she pulled a floral desk calendar from under her keyboard. “But we also provide some urgent care services, since it’s a 30 minute drive to the nearest emergency room. So don’t be surprised when we get some walk-ins.”

“That’s alright I guess,” Y/N shrugged. “Good to stay busy.”

To say she was nervous about her first real day as a real doctor would be an understatement. Sure, she wouldn’t have many patients - not in a primary care clinic in the middle of nowhere - and the stakes were probably low, but still. She had tossed and turned the night before, eventually hopping out of bed at 5:00 am and slipping her running shoes on. Jogging through her little neighborhood and down the highway for an hour or so before dawn had transferred her first day jitters into adrenaline, but she couldn’t distract herself now. This was the real deal.

But it turned out the real deal moved at a glacial pace - at least in a town like this. Y/N saw a grand total of 5 patients, all of whom were in mostly good health, with the exception of one boil that needed lancing. The rest were just fine, a bit chatty when they met their new doctor, undoubtedly a subject of town gossip. They were eager to fill her in on the local news and suggest churches and social clubs for her to try. She nodded and made noncommittal comments to every invitation. No unscheduled patients had wandered in either, so she had far too much down time to sit in her office and refresh her inbox, waiting for emails from friends and former colleagues as they all settled in to new lives and new cities and new hospitals. None came.

Y/N sighed as she climbed into her car, and leaned her head back against the seat. Doing nothing was almost more exhausting than being busy. She just wanted to get home, pour a glass of wine, and lay around on her couch. And eat dinner. Which she would have to cook...with groceries she didn’t have. Fuck.

Grocery store it is.

Even a remote town like this one managed to have a Walmart somehow - not a huge one, but big enough to have the necessities. The fluorescent lighting made the inside of the store look dingy and gray, desperately in need of a remodel. Y/N pushed her cart up and down the aisles, grabbing items at random now that her growling stomach made everything look appetizing. She made sure she had quick ingredients for the night’s dinner - a simple chicken spaghetti, a mouthwatering recipe from her best friend.

She turned up the baking aisle, ready to head back to the front of the store. While mentally calculating the time left standing between now and her dinner, a box on the right caught her eye. Top shelf. Brownie mix. Supreme fudge. Oh hell yeah.

The shelf seemed a little high at first glance, but surely they wouldn’t put common items like brownie mix out of reach of the customer? Y/N left her cart parked in the middle of the aisle and stepped up to the shelf, lifting up on her tiptoes and stretching her arm as far as she could. The tips of her fingers could just touch the bottom of the box, but it wasn’t enough to get a grip on it. Tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, she strained harder, her other hand gripping the lower shelves for support. No dice.

A little grunt of frustration passed her lips and she stepped back, hands on her hips. Now it was just a matter of pride - she couldn’t just give up and walk away from these brownies. That was more pathetic than buying them and eating the batter alone in her kitchen, which was her original plan. With a sigh, she stepped back up to the shelf and jumped, trying to knock the box over into her hand. The first attempt failed, as did the second, but on the third she managed to tap the box enough to make one corner stick out a quarter inch over the edge of the shelf. Just as she was preparing for one last jump to claim her prize, she heard a throat clearing behind her.

She whipped around, feeling exposed as she had left her dignity behind before the first desperate hop for her brownie mix. Her cheeks burned even hotter as she met the eyes of her witness...her very tall, handsome witness. Broad shoulders under a buttery soft leather jacket, his long hair brushing the collar and

Oh shit that’s my neighbor

“Um,” he smiled, shifting his weight. “Do you need some help with that?” He gestured to the frustrating box on the top shelf.

Y/N’s brain needed a moment to catch up - she hadn’t yet seen him this close, hadn’t heard his voice, hadn’t seen him at all since that one moment in the driveway on the afternoon she arrived. He was a lot to take in.

“Yeah, uh sure,” she backed up from the shelf and pointed. “It’s that one. The, um, ‘supreme fudge’ kind.”

His smile widened (was that a dimple?) and he stepped forward, easily reaching up and plucking the mix from its place. Y/N forced her eyes away from his abs as his t-shirt lifted away from the hem of his jeans. When he turned back and offered her the box, his bright blue eyes were on her face.

“Here you go. One supreme fudge,” he teased, smirk creeping up the side of his mouth. Y/N took the box with both hands and held it to her chest.

“Thanks, you’re a real life-saver,” she laughed, self-conscious.

“And here I thought that was your job?”

Y/N’s brow wrinkled, until he nodded towards her clothes and she remembered she was still wearing her scrubs.

“Oh! Right,” she wrinkled her nose in embarrassment. “Well, I definitely didn’t save any lives today, so. You’re doing better than me.”

“Hm. I doubt that.”

The conversation lulled, but he stayed planted in front of her cart. He settled his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, seeming to have no intention of leaving. Y/N took a deep breath and forged ahead.

“It’s...Mr. Barnes I think? I’m sorry I never got a first name.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, it’s just, uh, just Bucky. How’d you know…?”

“Oh, Mr. Van Horn told me you were my neighbor when he gave me the keys the other day. I’m living in his mother’s house -”

“Across the street, yeah!” he blurted, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “That’s how I recognized you, I just couldn’t place it.” He shook his head, laughing at himself. “God, I’m sorry, must’ve seemed rude, I didn’t even introduce myself or ask your name.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waved him off, sticking her hand out and giving him her name, still relishing the ‘Dr.’ title. “But you can just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his grip gentle but firm. His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, bright and searching. He took a breath to say something else, when his gaze shifted, locking on something behind her. His posture stiffened and he jerked his hand back, jaw tightening.

“See you around,” he said coldly, shoulder bumping hers as he strode past her down the aisle. Y/N turned in confusion, trying to see what had changed his mood so abruptly. But the only thing she could see at the end of the aisle was a discarded candy wrapper, soon crackled under Bucky’s heavy boot. Then he was gone.

Y/N’s lips pursed in a frustrated pout. Two strikes Barnes.

That night, as she sipped wine from her grandma bed in her grandma house, she scrolled through social media on her phone in a vain attempt to feel close to her friends. Engagement, pregnancy, travel, engagement. Scoffing, she tossed her phone to the side and hunkered down in the bed. She stared at the popcorn ceiling, tiny glitter particles glinting in the lamplight. The wine in her glass was drained to the last drop and she twirled the stem absentmindedly.

She went over the scene in the baking aisle again and again, wondering if she had said something wrong and offended Bucky somehow. His dismissal was just so strange. On a whim, she snatched up her phone again and typed his name into Facebook. A few Bucky Barnes’s, but none that looked like him. She tried Instagram and Twitter with the same result. No social media presence, in this day and age? So fucking strange.

Outside the house, an engine started up, revving a couple of times before the sound retreated down the street.

Good riddance.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #biker!bucky #biker!au

[strongsassysexysloane]

Take me for a Ride, Jack..2

So I’ve got more assignments than I thought to do before I go to LA for Paleyfest NCIS so chapters may not come out a regularly as I originally planned.. However... This is the motorbike I have in mind..

. . . . 

To say the next half hour in Jack's office was uncomfortable would be an understatement. At least you think it was half an hour, when you turn to leave and check the clock it was only ten minutes. You sigh to yourself, Jack didn't mention anything, just down to business, asking the questions she needed and you answered. No quips, sassed remarks or winks you'd come to love. Wait, no, like. You'd come to like.

You guessed it was because time was running out on this one, any proof probably getting buried deeper and Ellie and Nick couldn't survive the married life much longer. At least that's the text you got this morning from Ellie wishing she could have one minute away from Nick. You laughed because they usually spent most weekends off together and go to the same bars most Friday nights but living together 24/7 was a bit too much.

You went and saw Kasie to see if she had any updates but you knew she didn't. With hardly any forensics to go off she was having a hard time helping with the case but you chatted for a bit, discussing Ellie and Nick's situation before your phone alerted you that a search that you were running came back so it was back up to the bullpen.

It took until the end of the day however to finally nail the guy. Ellie and Nick returned with the bad guy in cuffs. He'd had an affair with the wife, except she didn't plan on leaving her husband and this guy thought that justified murder.

"No offence Nick but this weekend. No goat Yoga, please." Ellie practically fell into her chair.

"Oh come on, it was only a few days." Nick blew her off.

"I don't care, you do more push ups than the whole office, listen to the worst music and you chew REALLY loud." The last comment made everyone laugh and Nick pouted in his seat.

"You know you're not much-" He stopped, receiving a glare from Ellie and one from Gibbs. "You're great Bishop."

"Finish your reports and hit the rack." Gibbs ordered, tapping something on his keyboard then walking out.

Thankfully after that long case you didn't get a call in for another two days. An actual two day weekend. It was a bloody miracle. You spent most of it catching up on house work, a nice breakfast with your sister and more apartment hunting.

When the call came early morning after two days rest you welcomed the call although sleeping in until 0630 would've been a nicer way to start, oh yeah and not a dead petty officer. You all caught up about what happened over your two days off while investigating the crime scene. No one had an eventful weekend, just some well needed rest done by all well except Gibbs who didn't chime in.

You, Ellie and Nick drove back to HQ while Gibbs and McGee followed a lead given to them by a neighbour at the crime scene. While walking to the entrance of the building you turned when you heard a roar, you missed that sound. It was the pur of a motorbike pulling into the carpark a few metres away. You stopped to check out the bike and the sleek woman riding her. You'd spoken in length to Nick a few times about his bike, he even offered to take you for a ride but you declined saying if you couldn't ride her, you wouldn't ride at all. He scoffed at that but appreciated the love of bikes.

Ellie and Nick stopped shortly after you but you didn't see Ellie's smirk at your expression and interest in the person- bike because Ellie knew exactly who was riding it and you had your suspicions as well. You watched as the woman stretched and slid off the bike. It was only when she started lifting her helmet, facing you, that you saw the tips of blonde hair and swallowed hard, you guessed right. She had on almost knee high black boots that covered up her skin tight dark denim jeans and a zipped up black leather jacket. You scratched the back of your neck nervously, obviously being caught, and walked a bit closer.

"We'll catch you inside Y/N." Ellie shouted at you which only made you blush harder and you waved off her, seeing Nick not so happily being dragged off.

"Like what you see?" Jack rested the helmet on her hip, under her arm and watched you approach.

"She's a bute." You nodded to the bike, the fire still burning on your cheeks and tips of your ears. "She yours?" Possibly a bit too much surprise in your voice as Jack slightly frowned.

"Sure is, I got her as a late Christmas present to myself a few months ago. Good price, she needed a few things fixed, still does but she's worth it." Jack patted the side of her bike and walked around to the back, undoing her bag strapped down.

You smile at the way she obviously calls her bike a female. "Sleek, sexy, purrs like a goddess." You want to face palm yourself after letting your thoughts slip from your lips. Jack's back is thankfully turned towards you so she cant see you drop your head back and run your hand through your hair because you know she's thinking of a sassy innuendo to tease you with.

"Who told you about me?" She grins mischievously, sexy as hell, turning around, slipping her bag on her shoulder.

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face along with the still evident blush and you just shake you head. "How was your days off?" Changing the subject was a safe bet and one Jack thankfully went along with.

She shrugged her shoulders as you walk side by side into work. "Only got yesterday off because Dawson's team needed help the day before but I'll probably get this weekend off unless your case needs assistance. But I spent most of yesterday under her, covered in grease but it was worth it. As you said she purrs like a goddess now, just like me." You bump her shoulder for the sassy remark.

"I'm never going to live this down am I?" Truthfully, you hoped she never did.

"Not in the foreseeable future, no." She bumps your shoulder and you just discuss the case as you ride the elevator up to the bullpen.

"Let me know if you need any profiling done or need to bounce some ideas around." Jack smiled, winked and kept walking up to her office as you turned into the bullpen.

"Did she take you for a spin?" Nick smirked from resting his hip on Ellie's desk.

You shake your head with a smile, thankfully the blush had vanished once you exited the elevator. "No, like I told you. I drive, I'm not a passenger." You drop your bag behind your desk and walk back over to Ellie's.

"We thought you might change your mind, considering..." Nick trailed off, nudging his chin upstairs, obviously in the direction of Jack's office.

"We?" You look over to Ellie with a raised eyebrow.

"Think the whole office knows you two have a thing. The flirting is glaringly obvious." Ellie leans back in her chair, fiddling with a pen in her fingers.

You try your best to hide a smile but it fails. "We do not have a thing."

Thankfully the subject is dropped as Bishop gets a lead. Torres walks back to his desk, actually doing some work before Gibbs and McGee gets back. You go down to Kasie to see if she has anything but the evidence was just being categorised and you help her sort through a few things.

It isn't long before Ellie and Nick follow a lead on a suspect that the victim had a bar fight with a few nights ago leaving you alone in the office as McGee and Gibbs haven't come back yet.

"Need any bouncing?" She purrs as she pops up beside your desk, sipping her coffee with her spare hand on her hip.

"Nope, just looking over everyone's notes from the crime scene, writing up my report." Jack nods, walking around to stand off to your left, you can feel her hand that was on her hip move to rest on the back of your chair as she looks over your shoulder. You feel her thumb brush against your back, thinking it's by mistake but then she repeats the movement. You swallow hard and try your best to keep typing however you can't think straight and turn your head slightly, her hair tickles your cheek. You love it when she wears it down.

"I'm bored." She shrugs, straightening back up with a smirk.

"Surely there's some report or profile you need to do." You try your best to not lean back into her touch which is still happening against your back.

"Oh I have plenty but kitty cat needed a distraction." She takes a sip from her cup, you think you see a slight flush to her cheeks.

You snap your head up to see her smug smile. "Kitty cat?"

"Because I purr.." She says it like its the most obvious thing. You just shake your head and let a laugh slip from your lips, she's relentless.  

"Am I doing a good job?" You lean back into her touch as emphasis. Yes, definitely a flush to her cheeks, you get a kick out of it and love how the tables can turn.

Jack swallows a bit slower than normal her smugness disappearing at your bluntness. You smirk at her, the thumb movement faltering for a second. So she can dish out the flirting but when its reciprocated she gets flustered. Noted.

"I'm glad." You didn't need her reply and she huffs out a quiet laugh.

You both hear the ding of the elevator and you hold back a groan as she slips her hand off your chair. Gibbs and McGee exit the elevator with the suspect they went to question in handcuffs. McGee waltzes him down to interrogation while Gibbs walks in and slips his coat off, resting it on the back of his office chair.

"Where's Bishop and Torres?" He doesn't look up from placing his gun and badge in his drawer.

"Following a lead." You answer, going back to your report.

"No more leads?" He walks over to stand in front of your desk, looking from Jack down to your concentrated face directed at your computer screen.

"Not on my end." You look up and swear there's a slight smirk on his lips. He raises an eyebrow at Jack waiting for her to answer.

"Got nothing for you Gibbs." She sips her coffee.

"You helping Y/N with her report?" He counters. There's definitely some levity to his tone, anyone else and it would've been clipped but not to Jack. The thought made your stomach twist. You scoff and that draws the attention back to you which is the last thing you wanted. "If you got nothing better to do, McGee and I are about to question our suspect." He looks from you to Jack and turns and walks to interrogation.

"Guess I'll see you later." Jack follows Gibbs and you instantly miss her presence, miffed that Gibbs drew her away. You shake away that thought and get back to your work.

. . . . 

Again, sorry if the case stuff is blah but im trying to work on my story telling and not just jump them into bed LOL. Let me know what you think :)

#jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #ncis #fanfic

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

Bliss 7 and 12 please ;-;

Thank you anon, I absolutely adored writing this prompt, but being me I ended up with more angst than I planned to write for such a sweet prompt, but the ending is soft I swear. I hope you like it

Prompt Bliss 7. “Look at you… Goodness, you’re so cute.”

Ryan doesn’t know what they are even doing at this point.  

This is the tenth time this month that he had lingered at the office after work, throwing himself into doing and redoing his editing as people trickled out and the buzz faded away. His neck is straining and his eyes ache, but he catches himself before he rubs them, not wanting to jostle the contacts. The office is not the pinnacle of comfort and luxury, but he would give up his bed and all his jerseys if it meant he could be spared from his mind.  

There is no use thinking about it really, what’s done is done, but he can’t help his reluctance. It’s just an apartment, his rationality says. But why does every empty space hurt to look at, his heart whispers.

There are so many of them now. 

So he had hung back, and Shane had stayed with him, the two of them editing their various projects side by side, a giant bucket of Chicago Popcorn™ Shane’s parents had sent between them.

The problem, as it usually was, is that Shane’s company and some good old fashioned sleep deprivation don’t mix well, and productivity took the fallout, their work ethic gradually sliding off the table until they’re positively undoing efforts that they’ve already put out. 

Yes, maybe Ryan had something to do with Shane’s elbow and back crashing onto his laptop keyboard and deleting nearly two hours of editing, but it’s Shane’s fault he doesn’t save the videos every two minutes like Ryan does, non-compulsively of course. 

So their nights aren’t the most productive, but it’s off-hours so no one can really tell them off. The office is empty, unflipped light switches plunging patches of desks into shadow between the bright spots in mesmerizing patterns. The warehouse desk layout leaves much space for the mind to fill, but Ryan’s worked here for so long that he knows every twist and turn. He’d bet good money that he’d win in a ghost race through this organized mess. 

Ryan’s pretty sure the only person doing actual work tonight has chosen to evacuate from their desk to one of the corners farthest away from the pair of them. He feels a little bad to bother him with the un-moderated volume of their conversations and the not-so-infrequent giggling fits, but right now he’s too relaxed and happy to care. It’s the only time he gets to feel like this anyway. 

The Unsolved title card flashes, pulling his attention back to the screen, a white bar inching through the multicolored blocks of carefully compiled video and audio files at the bottom of the monitor. Ryan’s quite proud of this one, the crew were able to get some stellar shots on-location and there was probably one of the clearest spirit box replies they’ve gotten, no matter how hard the other man tries to discount it. 

“Aww you cut that part out again?’ Shane pouts beside him, headphones perched precariously on his big head.

"You can’t just go and tell ghosts they’re gonna be on Youtube every time.” Ryan swivels his chair to face Shane, a lofty air in his voice as he does his best to look down his nose at the other man, even going so far as pumping his seat up a few inches. Shane’s lip trembles like he’s holding back a laugh. It’s an argument they’ve had before, and Ryan knows how it’s going to go almost down to the line, but it’s always fun, so he plays the game. 

“And why not?" 

"They’re not from this time, they don’t even know what electricity is!”

“So you are admitting the spirit box is wack.” Shane rubs his hands together evilly, smiling so wide he could have been in that truth or dare movie, no special effects needed. “Oh, this is very good.”

“I did not say that,” Ryan protests, nudging Shane’s leg with a foot and feeling intensely satisfied when the boot leaves a dirt mark on the other man’s dark jeans. Jeez, they are literal children sometimes, but Ryan never has this much fun. 

“It’s just, they’re ghosts, and they’re making the effort to reach out to talk to these two idiots, cut them some slack.”

“You’re the only idiot here. I, Shane Madej, am a man of science.” Shane doesn’t even have to level up his seat and he’s still taller than Ryan. It is so, so not fair. 

“This is science!”

“Uh-huh,” Shane says, deadpan. There is movement just out of Ryan’s periphery, and he cranes his head to see the guy leave, wincing internally. He should probably apologize for being loud, but that can totally wait a day. Maybe two.   

“There has been plenty of evidence on ghosts and you know it.”

“From what I’ve seen? You really want to go into that?” There’s a challenge in Shane’s posture, and Ryan feels a rush in his chest that overruns the empty ache there, sees the trap but he jumps anyway.

“Hell yeah I do, we’ve caught some pretty good stuff along the way, Waverly, ‘brown and white’?  The freaking Sallie House?" 

"We both know the whole flashlight test is horseshit, Ryan.” Shane smirks, leaning back in his chair languidly with his hands behind his head, “As to the rest of those, the demons and ghosties gotta work harder than that, cause right now they don’t seem very interesting.”

  “How dare you! They’re more than interesting. They were all people once.”

“Let’s list what they’ve done, hmm? Jostling toothpaste, nudging bouncy balls, whispers so gentle you can’t even–”

“Nope I’m not letting you trivialize the evidence, it was fucking creepy to hear those on location.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a wimp.”

“Fuck you.” Ryan shoots back, but there’s no real feeling behind it. He pulls a serious face to match Shane’s, squaring his shoulders and oh watch how fast he folds now. 

The other man’s joy is infectious, and soon Ryan is joining him, their laughs swallowed up by the high ceilings and far walls. Ryan’s eyes catch on the lights shining down on Shane, tracing golden lines along the edges of his lanky figure against the shadowed monotony of conference rooms. Breathless and curling into themselves, their gazes meet and linger across five feet of space.

They’re just two guys working into the small hours of the night, just another aspect of their life that their ghost hunting career has bled into, it’s all normal. 

Except it isn’t. 

Neither of them needs to be here to work, least of all Shane, and really, Ryan thinks with a twist in his chest, it has just been the two of them spending time in each other’s company. And Ryan does genuinely enjoy it. He loves the ease of their interactions, how they can hound each other mercilessly and bicker, how Shane can poke that special unhinged laugh out of him and make him forget about everything else. 

And how he, in turn, can make the big guy’s eyes all curvy and bright like no one does. 

But there’s no use thinking about things like that. 

There could be, a small voice says, a light shining weak in the churning abyss. Ryan passes a hand over his face and keeps it there, not trusting himself to not let his heart spill right out. 

“Ryan?”

He had thought he found the one with Helen, the person in the world he’d like to spend his life with, but then things had started falling apart, and she had left. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Ryan knows, but he had gotten used to having someone to come home to, someone who knows him for who he is. 

You can have that again, the voice goes on small and determined, and Ryan wishes he could block it out. Isn’t he always good at that on their investigations? It was basically in the fucking job description. 

You just have to let yourself see.

Shane is safe, someone to trust, someone to rely on. No one else would have born with him all the times he lost his mind in those haunted places. No one else would have hummed Mama Mia to him constantly in those first days when Ryan hid the pain so well on camera, knowing the familiar tune would take the tears away, if only for a minute. Just one Shane Madej hailing from the Land of Lincoln, his co-host, his best friend, and the most important constant grounding him while the rest of his world is turned up-side-down. 

“You okay buddy?” There is a sharp tone in Shane’s voice, and Ryan belatedly realizes his eyes are wet. Shane’s face is flushed from laughing, but now he leans forward and there is suddenly so much care in the slight tension of his shoulders that Ryan wants to cry. 

He can’t risk losing this, he doesn’t know what he would do if he manages to fuck up this last good thing in his life. 

“Yeah,” He gives the other man a small smile, turning back to his screen to start up the video again, and he feels Shane relaxing back into his chair reluctantly. 

Soon he’s leaning forward again, attention rapt on every little detail Ryan had painstakingly compiled. 

“Hmm, didn’t you make a face at that point?” Shane taps a finger against his chin, eyes narrowed in concentration as Ryan reaches out to pause the replay, the lines of blue and yellow stark against the black background. 

“Oh, that? I didn’t think it would anyone would be interested to see it.” Ryan’s fingers tap at the keys for a few seconds, pulling up the clip from the front camera and overlaying it on the video. 

"I didn’t know it was gonna scare ya.” Screen-Shane says, tipping his head to the side and schooling his face into an impressive mask of innocence as he batted his eyes at screen-Ryan.

In-real-life Ryan feels warmth coil in his chest at the memory, and he smiles as he watches himself sputter for a bit, finally settling on a determined, You know what you did. He actually huffs out a laugh at his piss poor attempt to look intimidating, when the camera angle in the VO booth put Shane so much clearly taller. 

On the screen, Shane’s looking down at Ryan with a grin, though he at least has the self-awareness to look a little sheepish. Their eyes lock, and with an appropriate pause for dramatic effect, “I do.”

The clip takes another few seconds to end, their raucous laughter sound from his speakers. Then Ryan’s left with the still of both of them looking at the camera, frozen grins bright on their faces, captured in time. 

And Ryan’s caught in fucking limbo again, his free hand flexing in on empty air at the edge of his desk.  

“Good stuff huh?” Shane’s voice is quiet. 

“Yeah.” Breathe, just breathe, how is that so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. 

“You considering switching the text out for this?” There’s a smile in Shane’s voice, and Ryan clears his throat and drags in a shuddering breath. 

“No it's—I’ll uh, I’ll put it in.” He hears Shane wheeling close on his chair, but he doesn’t turn to look, locking his eyes on the monitor and busying himself with the familiar shifts and adjustments. He just needs a bit of time to clear his head, then he’ll recover the ability to be a half-decent friend again, he’s sure of it. 

Ryan’s got his cursor hovering over the clip, leaning forward to keep an eye on the time markings when Shane loses a soft breath, his voice an awed murmur. 

“God, you’re so cute when you’re focused." 

And Ryan’s world freezes over. 

Around the edges of his vision, he sees realization, surprise, and something like fear flit across the other man’s face. But Ryan doesn’t do much, just holds as still as he can, like he can stamp down the giddy hope in his chest before it even has a chance to rise, so he can convince himself that it’s all just a freakishly detailed fever dream, because Shane can’t have just said that. 

Shane saw him as a friend, nothing more. Ryan does want that to be true, he really should. 

Breathing is becoming such a fucking bother again, he thinks absently. Maybe if he didn’t do it, life would be much easier. 

"Oh-oh god I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that, what kind of shitty friend am I—just,” Shane breaks off, dragging both hands through his hair and tugging in frustration. When he finally speaks he sounds broken, voice thick as if he’s holding back tears, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s all too much, there’s a loud rushing in Ryan’s head. He bolts out of his chair, needing the freedom in space to think, to process. His chest tightens when Shane flinches at the sudden movement, eyes wide, fingers white where they’ve wrapped around the arm of his chair in a death grip.

He needs air, Ryan thinks, and his feet start carrying him away, faster and faster. But Shane follows him, and it has always been like this, he supposes. Ryan takes the lead and Shane hops on for the ride, for better or for worse, always a steady presence at his side when he needs him the most. Sometimes even when he doesn’t want to.

Shane’s steps close in and he catches at Ryan’s arm, “Ryan wait, please.”

Ryan blinks hard, but he doesn’t get to wake up this time. Shane’s fingers are burning points of pressure on his mind. 

He opens his mouth to speak but there’s a strange taste, two cool lines trace down his face and his vision is swimming, and oh wouldn’t it just be perfect if he blacked out, poor little Ryan, can’t even take a fucking joke without fainting—

“Oh god, don’t cry Ry, please, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Was it a fucking joke.” Ryan bites out, voice barely louder than a whisper but it still comes out harsher than he means. He can’t look at Shane, so Ryan keeps his eyes down, stares at the mud on Shane’s boots from their last shoot. He needs to know. 

“No,” Hurt, that’s what it is, and there’s far too much of it in Shane’s voice for it to be right. “No it wasn’t.” Shane lets go of Ryan’s hand to curls an arm around himself, and Ryan aches for the burning contact like it’s a physical wound. 

“Oh.” It’s more a punched out puff of air than a word. Oh.

“I-” Shane swallows, eyes shifting then settling back on Ryan, “I was looking at you, and it-it slipped out, I’m sorry.”

The silence isn’t complete, of course it isn’t. The sound of traffic exists at all hours of the day here. But it still envelops Ryan, wrapping around his throat and trying to suffocate the words he’s struggling to form. 

“Don’t be."  

"What?” Shane breathes, hesitant, almost disbelieving, his eyes dart to search Ryan’s face, “you’re not saying—do you—”

“I think I can.” Ryan says, and he tastes truth on his tongue. 

Not now, not even tomorrow, but maybe next week, or the week after that.

“You do?"  

"I do.” He affirms, and Ryan’s throat closes up with something warm when a lopsided grin starts to form on Shane’s face, small and hopeful, a gentle flush creeping onto his cheeks. They’re just standing in the office looking at each other, and Shane’s hand lifts up a little as if to reach out, but he catches himself before it makes it into Ryan’s personal space. 

“You wanna head back home? I’ll pack the popcorn.” Ryan can’t really breathe, so he just nods and offers Shane a watery smile. 

Their fingers brush when Ryan hands Shane a blanket for the couch, the corners of Shane’s eyes are crinkling and Ryan is breathless. He’s been feeling like that a lot tonight, and it seems that life is determined to keep him that way with all the curveballs it’s been chucking at him. 

But this time it’s not a bad feeling. Not at all. 

He fiddles with his sleeve and watches Shane settle down, making his way around his apartment with a familiarity accumulated over years’ worth of movie nights and beers and popcorn. 

It’s still too soon, and he doesn’t think he can do anything about this whole thing he’s got himself into. But he’s got Shane with him, and for once Ryan’s not afraid he’s going to leave. 

And maybe, Ryan thinks. Maybe one day he won’t need to hide from his apartment and its empty spaces. 

#this took way too long to write #sorry for the wait anon #i was 1.5k in and then my brain was just like fluff??? have some angst instead #but it's hurt/comfort I guess #things are okay at the end #shyan #bliss prompt #how did I twist it into something that i cried to write #i love dying and being dead #alex writes #also I am very proud to have used that 'oh' trope after ryan has that realization #i do love that one very much

[404fmdhaon]

creative claims verifications — let’s not love each other

summary: written circa mid-2019 — friends to lovers, it gets complicated and chung gyujeong is a teenage drama queen writing an ode about his feelings. mentions of @fmdjade warnings: none, rough translations...yeah wc: 1918, not including lyrics/dates

(sometime in april 2019)

restlessness catches him off guard.

it’s in the dead of night when the dorms become hollowed out with the memories of seven years inside knight. a deserted storm takes in the aftermath of members gone (he’s lost track of who’s still inside living and who’s reaped the benefit of leaving early). drunken steps staggered in the corridor, he barely manages to slip past the boxes packaged up, sealed away and stamped with heavy nostalgia along the walls.

past the first door and to the next, he stumbles inside the buildings built from cardboard boxes lined up. there’s a straightaway for the keys. 

maybe he’s had too much to drink and the one-punch wayward feeling settling inside the pit of his stomach all fixes itself on too many soju bombs poured in high spirits. or maybe, he’s just a schmuck on the verge of an impending crisis. (high alert, he knows it’s the latter) — his mind makes a dart straight towards jiae.

acceptance comes in waves when he sees her cat-shaped eyes engrave themselves inside his head past the visions of a hazy blue screen — his screen holds the remnants of a beat left unsalvageable, and he scraps it when he knows what he’s trying to say.

she stares at him blankly like a phantom ghost lingering in the room. the sound laughter brimming from her lips (the edges of her lips quirked, just like he always remembers her) as the soju muffles it whole. the way her head tips in tandem with the glass balancing in her hand and all to the drops of alcohol spilling in when he observes her still. 

fuck.

he snaps. 

snaps back to reality where her image fades, but present still lingers. haunts him reaching in and pulling him out with subdued warmth that follows when he closes his eyes and shakes his head, mirroring her own smirk. and when he peeks up, acceptance in stage one: 

“let’s not love each other it’s hard when we break up let’s just be like this friends but not friends”

he hums the words hugged in the hysteria of acceptance. his voice, incredulous. his laughter, a complete sham. 

and it becomes a piteous ode to her when his voice cuffs the words in a drawl, stretched thin barely flitting past two tones and yanked down to a mere monotone. let’s just be like this — he repeats, eyes closed and voice hushed. 

for the sake of his sanity, his eyes peek open to a blank screen. logic open, new scratch from start. hands scrambling through a half-empty box, he fishes out the mic, plugs it in. hits record.

a full on acapella — he’s never done this. not when he’s fixated to a crooning denomination of himself, fidgeting with the words (say it till you believe it. except, he knows he’s known it all along).  his voice doesn’t remain coherent when he drowns inside the effects of alcohol doused in woes, no. he doesn’t coax himself into believing, just continues singing.

autopilot takes over, and he loses control of reservations serving as barriers. a peek into honesty, he lets himself relive a play-by-play of moments in highlight. the first, shoulders barely grazing in the dead of christmas 2018. banter laced shoves disguised as taps on skin, singing the cries of those martyred by holidays — holidays never painted lonely nor cold, only each one collected by her. his t-shirt contradicting the barren winds of winter, but it’s the pink hues flushed against his skin, and the counter of her hand flitting his. she takes seoul in her palm, lets it marvel with her head held high and the turn of her shoulder — he watches her from behind. 

“even if we’re sorry to each other when we break up, we’ll be strangers let’s just be like this. friends but not friends.”

he mutters each word, each one being a pang to his beating heart bruised blue. it’s no longer god-sent the way he shrivels his hesitation in averted conversations and empty gaze. instead, silence becomes the rumination of what-ifs, and pessimism lined outcomes of endings — an ending bound to end, he’s ignorant to what side to place.

a few mouse clicks, and he stops. doesn’t want to think or hover over territorial lines. there’s no more savoring of dignity nor the pride that’s dissipated to mindless nothings. what remains is one: chung gyujeong with palms stamped to his head, reeling back inside words carved out from his mind.

—

(sometime in july 2019)

“what’s jiae up to?”

“i don’t know why the fuck are you asking me.”

“you’ve always been a shitty liar, gyujeong.” 

“hey siwoo? fuck off.”

fingers on the end of a dead line, he tosses the phone in lieu for the keyboard set in front. 

first comes the technical run of scales that become embedded like pieces of muscle memory when he loses track of a one-sided mind. and his fingers make room for the chords that become an ode to slow-moving jazz in a dark room. softness conflicts the hard shove of his words when he’s stripped to nothing but what lies when he’s left alone.

chung gyujeong versus gyujeong enticed and intoxicated in fleeting playbacks of jiae.

he slams the keys, a mangled cacophony of jarred emotions. dismembered — he abandons the call to ignore, slides away the keys for an old file he’s hidden deep inside folders and folders of his hard drive. yet, when he clicks, he’s reminded again in the drags of his voice crooning some lyric off-key, yet coherent to his ears.

he remembers.

catharsis is best served in a track, it’s what he’s always known. acceptance is long and gone, and he allows himself to tune into each and every yank of the words he doesn’t voice.

so, he records.

the chords come in iterations, one then two. the grand piano he doesn’t have sitting inside the living room of family he’s abandoned long ago. now, he’s in the place of some musty jazz club inside the heart of soul, the taste of anonymity on the tip of his tongue with a hat pulled low and a mask covering him whole. glimpses of the guitarist on stage, and some pull of the keys entice him for mere seconds before he finds why he’s there in the first place: her. 

her eyes narrowed, chin askew. the grin pulling the edges of her lips higher as she melts into the sounds of low-spoken jazz — he finds himself as the reflection of her.

fuck. 

one deep breath and the recoil of another flashback — he loses. tongue in cheek, he keeps the chords on file. 

there’s a storm thrumming in the beats of his heart, steadied by the taps of his feet. a bite of his nail that festers uncertainty of what the night brings because sleep’s never been kind to him. not when his head barely stays afloat the tempest waters and the crash of realizations that keep him in the undertow.

catharsis. it’s what he craves, and what he sprawls out when he finds the notebook inside the half-empty box pushed to the side.

he keeps the keys on loop, filling the empty void of silence.

it becomes less suffocating when the pen scrawls itself against the pages — pressure digging deep enough to tear. 

“when you’re sick, i worry a little  enough to bring the medicine i have lying at home 'i just have it lying around so use it if you need it’’

it comes in stages when the resolution in muffled voices across seas come clear cut — one husky voice, and he’s jolted awake in heavy sighs, counting down the hours with a vinyl bag wrapped around his wrist. ‘it’s nothing’, he shies away from, steps out of comfort and loses himself when he tip-toes into her dorms, shedding the excuse of icy glares and dead-beat stares.

concession in pride comes when envy fills his bare bones. the gritty voice he punctures through her widened eyes, voice dull. her voice still soft like summer-lines, echos blaring enough to mute away everything else — he turns away.

“when you’re with other guys, i get mad but i want to pass it like it’s nothing even if it sucks, a bad heart hurts a little.”

turns away from the aftermath of something ugly with the tinge of contempt harboring resentment inside each person who unravels her. it’s easy on the surface, but he’s no liar — he’s cracking underneath.

he cracks, fissures out into an implosion of self-doubt. inside the questions of what becomes when they’re stationed in complacency of her head on his lap. his fingers in her hair, and the image of smiling inside no words spoken inside a dusty club. 

friends.

friendship doesn’t come in stares across tables. recklessness doesn’t come in a countdown to holidays scattered across busy schedules. warmth doesn’t, shouldn’t root itself in her.

not when early mornings of sunrises catches itself in the yawns of stepping outside inside a club. old faces trespassing into new, and the chest-heavy, soul-deep laughter mixes itself outside of a hongdae club he calls home. dislodged and out of place, he remembers one instance.

the narrowed in stares that come from faces he calls ‘friends’, fingers pin pointed with his own arm balancing on her shoulder, and the trail of smoke that reaches the early morning skies. his eyes rove over hers, a chuckle guised as an escape coming in something left unsaid. it’s breathy, airy. weightlessness puncturing the mask he wears.

“not friends, but deeper than friends you and i should be more like wine a bit darker. if you leave, i’ll have nothing we’re pretending to be comfortable, mixing friends when people ask when we’re gonna date i just laugh, look over to see your reaction i laugh because i’m embarrassed for nothing no, i laugh because it’s funny”

—

(a few weeks later, august 2019)

he knows he’s bound to come back.

and he does inside an empty room, all packaged up with nothing more than the same blue screen, dusty mic and the keys laid out. his fingers rest on his chin, pressing harder when his eyes cast over the words smudged in black ink and the echoes of the piano. 

catharsis doesn’t feel any better than when it started.

but he finishes it not knowing where it’s headed — had he ever known?

he’s never been the valiant force, nor one to wield together the pieces of bravado he wears. because when it comes to jiae, he’s only stripped down to the bare vulnerability that comes in soft curves of a meager grin and vacancy of laughter that tugs him wayward.

his voice taps against the baselines of the bass, and the steadiness of the kick drum of the beat. no punch of a hitting-heavy tone, nor the rapid-fire of words — he doesn’t take any of it with stride. instead, he keeps his voice talking, the rise and fall of his breath taking in the first words with nothing more than the exhaustion tethered to full-on rumination.

yet, he shakes his head and pauses the record. (too heavy and spoken, it’s a cesspool of things he’s never been.)

take two.

he’s never given more than he has, told himself he never would. yet, the words he harvests become nothing more than the gentle lullaby of his voice coddling each syllable of the second verse — the song was never meant for him, no. it’s notes and words were always poised on the line of her.

he tries again. this time, the drunken mumbles in the rough hash of april reformed into the sobering melodies of august. it’s the crumble in the misery of acceptance when he lays all walls down, lets himself revel in each and every word he wrote for her. 

because between each stolen glance, brews the culpability of his image juxtaposed onto hers. each year, a pass that brings a near decade of himself next to her digs deeper until he realizes — it’s too late to crawl out now.

“i don’t want to love you. i don’t want to kiss you.” 

he stops the recording. palm in cheek, he stares blankly at the screen. minutes, an hour. it goes in loop, the echoes of acceptance now unavoidable — he can’t face it dead-on without the underlines of a detonation.

(save. he doesn’t scrap it).

#fmdverification #머리속에 — 생각

[petri808]

Mirror’s of the Soul

Hau’oli la Hanau!  Happy Birthday!  @dark0angel13  Hawaii misses you ;)

Based on the folklore of a “dog-man” in Hawaii called the Kaupe.  Spun to be a werewolf AU lol, but with a twist.  The Kaupe was used in the DC tv show Legends of Tomorrow.  It was pointed out to me that Lucy’s character reminded them of character from Witcher 3 as well lol.

~~~~~ Nalu AU one-shot

Lucy had heard the wild rumors of the dog-man of Nu’uanu Valley, but she chalked it up to Hawaiian folklore.  These islands were full of such supernatural tales, and as a transplanted college student, seemed more like ghost stories intended to keep children from misbehaving.  She hadn’t heard of any actual werewolves confirmed in the last few centuries, and this was probably not a real case.  As far as she was concerned, superstitious hocus-pocus wasn’t going to keep her from hiking in the valley.  It’s lush rainforests, waterfalls, or Pali cliff overlooks were stunning, especially near sunset or sunrise.  A slice of nature surrounded by a growing metropolis.  

While the professor droned on at the front of the lecture hall, one of her closest friends slides into the seat next to her.

“You’re late Natsu,” she whispers, “class started 20 minutes ago.”

“Did I miss much?” the young man retorts.  Lucy shakes her head.  “Then I’m not late at all,” he grins back.

She rolls her eyes but can’t help a chuckle from escaping.  “Got any plans this weekend?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” he shifts in his seat, “but should be free Sunday.”

“How about you take me on a Dave ‘N Busters date Sunday so I can kick your ass at RD again.”

“You’re on!”

The next morning, Lucy awakens to perfect outdoor weather.  Balmy breezes lightly shifting her curtains and blue skies as far as the eye could see.  It seemed her roommate hadn’t made it back to their dorm in the night, probably staying the weekend with her boyfriend off campus.  Lucy sighs, and turns on her bed facing the window, maybe one day she’ll be able to do the same.  Yeah sure, Hell might freeze over before Natsu saw her in that way.  He was the best of friend that any could be, but no matter how many times she threw subtle hints or flirted with him, it all seemed to go right over his head.  Oh well, the times they spent together sufficed, but for now the valley was calling her name.

Not only did she like simply being surrounded by the peace and tranquility the forest could provide, it also served as a perfect, distraction free place to write her stories. Notebook, extra pens, fully charged laptop, trusty outdoor blanket, lunch, and ready to go, she ascends the Lulumahu Falls trail.  It was only a 2-mile hike round trip, but unlike some of the other trails in the area, this one cut through a bamboo grove and wasn’t one of the official paths.  As such, traffic tended to be lighter with fellow hikers opting for the maintained trails instead.

She reaches the end of the line and finds a shady area with large flat boulders to sit on.  Thank goodness for the recent sunny weather.  The trail had been mud-free, humidity was lower, and the air was crisp.  Lucy takes out her laptop, balancing it on her thighs and gets to work, letting the sounds of the forest send her into a rhythm.  Her words flowed forth like the gentle burbling of the nearby stream of the same namesake.  Hands gliding across the keyboard like the chirping birds around her.  Every now and again there was a crackle of a falling branch, or footsteps of a fellow nature seeker, but she paid these no mind, her characters keeping her enthralled.

It was great when ideas came to her so easily.  The infamous writers block plagued her from time to time, but not today, and it wasn’t until the light was growing dim that she realized how long she’d been in the writing zone.  Oh crap!  It may still be warm for fall, but the sun also set quicker in these later months.  She checks the time on her phone and guestimates another hour tops before she needed to get out of there.  Alright, this chapter was almost finished, she could make it!

She didn’t make it.

And by the time she’d stumbled into what she assumed was the Kaniakapupu Ruins, it was dark, cell phone coverage was nil, and it was growing a bit chilly.  Thank goodness for her blanket!  Lucy had two options, keep trying to find her way out through unmarked trails and risk getting more lost, or staying put until morning.  The clear skies were in her favor and the bright harvest moon chased away some of the darkness.  She groans and finds a decent rock to plop onto, guess she’ll just hunker down for the night.  

About a half mile away, deeper into the Nu’uanu valley, something catches the scent of the lone female, but that wasn’t good, for he recognized the scent.  ‘What is she doing here and on this night of all nights?!’  He came here to hide during this phase of the month, an ancient calling against his bloodline to guard the heiau of Kaheiki.  Legend has it, his ancestor had impregnated a human female shortly before being killed by a chief from the island of Hawaii, and to atone for that progenitor’s misdeed’s, a descendant was born as a Kaupe every hundred years or so to guard the heiau of the priest that helped to stop it’s rampage.

A thousand years later, it was Natsu’s bad luck that this curse fell upon his generation and with puberty came the confirmation.  He tried consulting the most knowledgeable kahuna’s and priests he could find in the hopes of breaking the curse, but they all told him the same thing, this was his ancestors atonement and only the gods could see fit to change that.  Yeah, well his family had been punished enough for something they hadn’t even done.  It wasn’t fair in this modern era to keep suffering like this.  All he wanted to do was settle down some day like a normal person, but who would want a freak like him?

Natsu’s worries were confirmed the moment he crept up to the ruins and sees Lucy sitting on a rock all bundled up.  With his keener eye sight, he can see her hiking back pack near her feet and puts two and two together that she must have gotten lost.  He could only imagine how cold she must be with nothing more than a light blanket to stay warm with.  At least his fur helped with that, but it was still another 10 more hours before the sun will rise.  Natsu paces as he weighs his options.  Great, so what should he do?  He couldn’t leave her all alone.  But if he made his presence known it might scare the wits out of her.  

He fails to realize that Lucy is now staring in his direction.  It was strange at first the mixed scent of Natsu and canine.  She couldn’t see him through the darkness but knew he was out there somewhere, but putting the clues together and it wasn’t a total shock.  Lucy groans internally at the irony.  The man had been keeping a secret, though she was no better.

“Natsu,” she lets out an exasperated exhale and stands up.  “You might as well come out I know you’re there.”  

That was impossible!  How could Lucy know that he was there in the first place, and second, he wasn’t some random person!  He hears her sigh.  

“Natsu, I can pick up on your scent, now please just come out.”

With a lot of trepidation, he steps beyond the tree line into the clearing.  “Lucy… but how??”

“Just come closer,” she sits back on her rock, “we both have a lot of explaining to do.”

Okay things were getting a little weird, and considering he was the werewolf, to think this was all really strange was… Weird!  No one outside of his family had ever seen him in this form because he’d done well to stay completely hidden from humans, and even though clearly this woman knew it was him, Natsu was still hesitant to let Lucy see him for what he was.  It was also a bit unnerving how unfazed she seemed to be.  He finds a fallen log about 10 feet away from her and sits down on the edge of it.  If he needed to take off again, it would only take mere seconds to do so.

Lucy adjusts the blanket around her body, then props her head with her hand against her knee.  “I assume you are confused?”  Natsu nods.  “Back home, my family hails from a long line of hunters…. Creature hunters.”  She tips her head, “I remember my mom telling me how my great, great, grandfather immigrated to America to establish a line of Heartfilia’s in the new world.  I think it’s silly and I moved here to get away from it all because I didn’t want to continue the tradition.”  An exasperated sigh escapes her lips.  “How ironic that I run into one so easily.”

“That still doesn’t make sense.  How did you know it was me?”

She taps her nose.  “I can track.  Look I know it seems strange, and it’s not normal for a human to do that so easily.  How do I explain it…  Somewhere in my family line, an ancestor was imbued with a few abilities.  I can’t see in the dark, which is why I’m stuck here, but an enhanced olfactory system allows me to detect scents, especially inhuman ones.”

“And, what do creature hunters do exactly?” his voice filled with an air of hesitancy.

“In the old days, they hunted to kill.”

Natsu tenses up and leans back, “should I leave?”

Lucy just waves her hand, “I came here to Hawaii to get away from that life.  Just wanted to be normal, ya know, but it seems I can’t run away from it either.”  She shivers as a breeze funnels through the clearing.

“Are you cold Lucy?  I’m sorry I don’t have a jacket or anything and I can’t leave the area till morning.”

“Why not?  In fact,” she pats the area next to her, “come closer and tell me your story.  It’s only fair since I shared mine.”

“I--I really don’t like anyone seeing me like this, you’re the first outside of my family to.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you and I don’t care what you look like.  I know you’re still you.”  Natsu shakes his head.  “Suit yourself.”  Lucy stands up, gathers the blanket around her and trudges over.

“Wait, what are you doing!” Natsu scrambles to his feet, tripping, and falling backwards over the log with a thud.

She rushes over to help him up, “Are you okay?!”

He rubs the back of his head, “I’ve got a hard head,” he winces, “more my pride that got hurt.”

Lucy chuckles, “see,” she pulls him to his feet, “should’a just stayed still.”

After getting him to come back to the rock with her, Lucy pulls her feet into a cross-legged position. “Alright, now spill.”

With a deep exhale, Natsu lets the words flow.  Everything he knows about his family, the curse, and what it’s like to be a Kaupe….  

All the while Lucy sits quietly not wanting to interrupt him.  She’d heard other tales of werewolves, old legends and such, including the idea of a curse causing the transformation.  Though this was the first time she’d heard of a curse carrying on through a bloodline before.  Guess, there is a first time for everything.  The tale he told was heartrending.  Their family’s ancestor may have been cursed because of a cold-blooded killer nature, but the man sitting next to her was nothing like that.  Natsu would give you the shirt off his back if you were in need and he always made her feel safe, especially at night.  If only there was a way to break the curse.    

Having determined for herself what kind of soul lay behind his Olivine hues, the longer she stared at him, it occurred to her that Natsu… wasn’t that bad looking in this condition.  Hawaii didn’t have wolves so did that make him more of a Weredog?  Not that she truly knew what a werewolf or weredog was supposed to look like since old tales differed on appearance.  Some depicted them as more human with canine features, others as more canine-like and barely human anymore.  Almost all of the stories described large fangs and claws dripping with blood, no ability to discern right from wrong or with any human consciousness left.  Boy were they wrong in this case!  Natsu was fully aware of himself and more scared than she was.  

His human fangs did look a bit longer than normal, his eyes still green but more canine-esque, with claws on his fingers and toes.  Tufts of fur covered the parts of his body that she could see, but he wore a t-shirt and baggy pants, so it wasn’t much.  A tail was definitely coming out of his lower back with pointy ears growing through his pink head hair.  Lucy tips her head, those ears were really cute!  She wondered what he would do if she rubbed them…

“Ahem.  Are you even paying attention anymore?!”

“Huh?”  Lucy shakes her head.  “Sorry,” her face flushes and she’s glad it’s too dark to see it.  “Curiosity and all.”

“I can’t let you touch them, so don’t even think about it.”

“Touch what?”

Natsu rolls his eyes, “my ears that you’ve been staring at for a solid 5 minutes.”

“Oh, why not,” she pouts.

“Because they are sensitive.”  Okay that was a semi-lie.  They were sensitive but rubbing them made him feel good in a provocative manner.  “So, as I was saying, we have no idea how to break the curse, no one in the family ever knows who in the next generations will become the next one, but it usually happens when the current Kaupe is close to death.”

“Is this why you’ve never tried to make a move on me?”

Well that was blunt!  “Um, I guess, yeah…” he scratches his head, “wh-what makes you think I would have?”

Lucy shrugs her shoulders a little sad by his response, “wishful thinking, I guess.  Anyways, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me Natsu.”

“Y-you know Lucy,” he averts his eyes to the ground, “if I had… asked… what would you have answered?”

“Yes,” she turns his chin back and smiles, “I do like you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”  Chuckling, “I just figured you only saw me as a friend.”

He takes a leap, “what about now, even after knowing this about me?”

“Hmm,” Lucy leans against him, resting her head on his furry shoulder, “the huntress and the werewolf,” she chuckles, “it sounds like a movie plot, but,” she looks up and smiles, “yeah, I’d still like to be your leading lady.”

#nalu #birthday fic #Natsu Dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #nalu au #nalu fan fic #fairytail #au story #werewolves #Hawaiian lore