#also why is the pacing so good??? im an utter wreck but i HAD to ramble about it somehow so heres my feverish take on it

[always-a-joyful-note]

After finishing all available 79 chapters of Witch Hat Atelier and being trapped into the spiderweb of the story that it is, I NEED to organise my thoughts about its themes and what it's trying to portray, so here goes that attempt. Spoilers for all available chapters so far under the cut

We obviously see that there is a HUGE fight against what they're calling "principles" and "freedom." We all might have different words to assign to those things like the characters themselves do (restrictions, fundamentalism, arrogance for principles vs chaos, power hunger, blindness to consequence for freedom), but I want to focus on the perspectives that both sides are using and call it what those who are on their side call it. In short, we can SEE that neither of those sides are wrong but they are far from right as well, and all the characters are struggling against that

I think so far the way we see principles and freedom drawn to an extreme is between Easthies and that masked Brimmed Hat Iguin (the one with the giant eye covering his face(?)). I'm not sure about the latter but it's been pretty clear what happens, especially after ch. 79, when both ideals are taken to their extremes

Maybe - and i only say maybe - they might be leading towards a theme that neither can exist without the other. Principles and absolutes cannot exist without freedom, and freedom and the passion to do all it takes cannot exist without principles. How they will come to that conclusion, I don't know...especially when I don't know how they will find another outside medium (if that's where it's leading) to help balance the two

There's also obviously themes about disabilities, which I think also show that difference between principles and freedom taken to the extreme. Principles taken to the extreme say that there is no way to help those who view/see/live in the world in a different way. The theme keeps on being brought up that even though this tool they have can help, they don't because upholding the rules has become more important than protecting those they love. BUT...freedom taken to the extreme tells us that those people have to be fixed to fit the world because, well, with what they have they can, right? Or, in another sense, they don't think about the consequences and price that casting that kind of stuff can take and thus turn a blind eye to the way it COULD be properly used because of all the thinking that's needed to be led to that point

Theme of growing up is another thing that's on here. I'm not actually sure how old the kids here are (they look to be between the ages of...maybe 12 and 15?), but either way, they are growing up. And Richeh and Agott are pretty good expressions of someone who wants to keep their childhood and someone who wants to grow up. It shows us how that battle between the individual and the community is handled by each child in their own unique way. Again, it's the balance of two extremes, to learn how to see others and have compassion but also learn how to live their own life as their own person - especially when one might cause you to sacrifice the other

Honestly, so far it's doing such a good job of having this precarious balance of not showing one side as completely evil (a moment of silence for Custas who found out about that the hard and agonizing way). Yes, the kids still lean on the side of principle, but that's not a bad thing either (honestly, the new Brimmed Hat Ininia and Custas against our protagonists and Tartah, it's sure showing a fun balance between kids raised in one thing learning to see the value of the other).

And speaking of balance, I think this is what this manga is trying to question. Balance between two extremes...if it's even possible

Anyway, there's also the obvious theme of censorship. That's obviously very bad and it's not really questioned that such censorship is a bad thing - BUT...the reasons behind it are complex. Fear, goodness, evil, and courage are all mixed up in fun and different ways...so you have that as well

Something something the road to hell is paved with good intentions or however that quote goes. Something something adults vs children but also children need to trust adults and adults need to trust children and hear them out. Something something how most of the adults we see contribute in some way towards whatever negative extreme they're facing (I'm REALLY hoping we get to see some more genuinely good adults in the Brimmed Hats side, though I also think if it shows them all as evil, it will do so in a way that shows how secrecy and hiding have corrupted their ideals more than acceptance has corrupted the Pointed Hats' ideals). And something something the children - and now some of the adults - are finding themselves conflicted between two sides that are neither wholly wrong or wholly right

[hazymultiverse]

yo could i get a 38 with best boy doppio 😔👊 im such a baby for him - your favourite anon, 🤡

I just.... Love Doppio.... He’s what made me realize I’m a switch! There’s a bit more femdom reader here, but it’s still loving.

Warnings include: Smut, overstimulation, Safe word is mentioned as having previously instated, but not openly discussed in the moment. Consent is important.

—

You looked hella good.

The nightie was short, fairly sheer, and in a cute pastel color that you found accented your hair perfectly. You looked amazing, and felt amazing, striking a pose in the mirror.

The fabric flowed easily, stopping right under your hips, just barely covering everything, but definitely not enough to be called decent.

“Showtime.” You whispered to your reflection, before starting your trek down the hall to the office.

Being Vinegar Doppio’s lover was very two sided.

On one hand, you were doted on, lavished with shy affection and anything you could ever want, spending evenings in each other’s arms with the firm knowledge that he was head over heels for you, and was loyal to the end.

On the other hand, you weren’t the only one he was loyal to.

He had a very high ranking position in the mafia, you knew that, and you were okay with it. But there were jobs that could take weeks at a time, weeks that he’d leave you alone with nothing but the occasional call from a pay phone, or a burner phone if he knew he could destroy any evidence tracing back to you. He could be called to leave at any time, and while he hated to leave you, he had sworn his life to the Don, and wouldn’t turn his back on that.

You were understanding, and you had talked out priorities in life, and what could be done, with him even meekly requesting his boss that he have a few days off between missions.

But while you understood, you also knew that he sometimes had to bring work home, and that frustrated you.

Being alone in a bed while your lover is on the other side of Italy? Hard, but manageable.

Being alone in a bed while your lover was two rooms away, but still not joining you? Unbearable.

Which was why you had fixed up your sexy new lingerie, and crept into the room.

You weren’t silent, and you knew he had sharp senses due to his work, but he didn’t even turn when you walked in, not even registering your presence until you snuck up behind his chair and lightly placed your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You teased in a sing song voice.

“Oh! Hello!” He giggled a bit, straightening up, “What are you still doing up? It’s late...”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You uncovered his eyes, trailing your hands down the front of his chest as you nuzzled your face into his neck, “I couldn’t sleep, the bed was cold, and all I could think of is my dear love, coming to keep me warm.”

“You know I want to, I just need to get a bit more done-“

“You’ve been at it for hours, it’s okay to finish up tomorrow, you don’t even need it done until the weekend.”

“I-I don’t know, it’s always better to get things done right away, after all, that’s why the boss gave me the job! Cause he knows I’m reliable and-“ You could hear the choke in his voice as he finally turned, seeing you in the nightie for the first time.

“You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?”

You shook your head coyly, stepping forward and turning his desk chair to face you, carefully straddling his hips.

“Come on baby, you’ve been working so hard, you deserve a reward, don’t you?” You tried your best to sound sultry, and hit the bullseye judging by the whimper Doppio let out below you.

“I-I really should uh, I really should get all this do-ahn!”

He cut off into a whine as you reached down, stroking him through his pants. His hips bucked up into your hand, allowing you to give him a quick squeeze, before working on undoing the button that stood between you and your goal.

“You’re so sensitive, so good for me, you always treat me so well~” You cooed at him, now able to fully stroke his dick, feeling him squirm beneath you as you started at a quick pace.

“Your hand- it’s so nice- I don’t know how long I can last!” his voice was high and breathy, thrusting into your grip as you jacked him off.

“You’re gonna have to last a bit longer, okay?” You paused your movements, watching as he let his head fall back, closed eyes facing up to the ceiling. His hair had started falling out of his braid, and his sweater was started to look disheveled from how much he had been writhing in the chair.

“Okay, I can do that, just- just give me a moment to cool down.” Doppio mumbled, chest heaving.

You nearly giggled, pulling the fabric of the nightie up just a bit as you repositioned yourself, sitting up over his cock.

“We can get to the bedroom, I can eat you out, and it’ll give me time to calm down enough that we can- oh god!”

His hands gripped the armrests like his life depended on it as you started sinking down on his cock, his eyes rolling back as he shuddered in pleasure.

Your lover wasn’t the biggest man, but he filled you up nicely, and his dick looked adorable as the rest of him, if that made sense. When you finally bottomed out, thighs resting on the rough material of his pants, you felt pleasantly full, deep warmth spreading through your body.

“I can’t- inside already- too close it’s too much I- you’re gonna make me- I don’t wanna cum this quick, you deserve more than that- oh baby wait- hah!” He was stuttering and babbling, voice breaking into keening moans as he arched up into you, hands finally flying to your body, gripping in a silent plea for mercy.

You stilled, allowing him a moment of respite as you let out a sigh of pleasure, placing small kisses over his cheeks, stroking his bangs out of his face.

“This is fine, we can just sit here and as long as you don’t move, we’ll be okay.” He sighed, catching your lips in a sweet kiss, tasting like the sugar of the coffee he just had.

To his dismay however, you began to rock your hips, a new string of moans leaving his lips as you rode him, begging you to slow down, that he was already too close to the edge.

He never wanted to disappoint you by finishing first, and on the off chance he did he made sure to repay the favor with hands and mouth, but you didn’t care about that right now. This was about him, and you wanted to absolutely wreck him.

Rocking and grinding on his lap, you stroked at his chest, running your hands everywhere you knew he was sensitive, the fabric of the sweater between his skin and yours just adding to the stimulation.You could feel him shaking beneath you, eyes shut tight as he struggled to keep his breathing steady. He was trying so desperately hard not to cum, and it was a losing battle.

He knew you weren’t going to let up, and he knew with a simple utterance of “Sardinia” you would stop and make sure he was okay, but in an odd way, he wanted you to push him, to order him around not with words, but with your actions, praises falling from your lips.

Which is why, even amidst a cry of “no, not yet!” He came, clutching at you as his hips thrust up out of instinct, bouncing you lightly as he twitched with the aftershocks, stilling with his head resting on your shoulder, his body a dead weight.

“Perfect, oh you were so good to me.” You assured him, petting his braid, smirking to yourself as you readied the next step of your plan.

He whined weakly as you lifted yourself up, only to drop back down again.

“Again. .?” He panted, voice breaking, “I can’t, not this soon.”

“Aw baby, you aren’t going to let me finish? You can’t just leave me like this.” You tease, bouncing with renewed vigor. You hadn’t been going easy on him before, but now went at it with far more intensity.

Any response was covered with a sob as Doppio choked on his own breath, shoulders quivering at the brutal overstimulation of his cock. You felt so good, too good, it was like he couldn’t even breathe.

Mercifully, you were close, and with sweet moans of your own, came, clenching around him in one last torturous moment before you sat up for him to slip out of you.

He didn’t even move as you got up, not registering anything but the haze of coming back to earth until you came back with a glass of water. Thankfully taking careful sips, he gingerly shoved his pants off completely, tossing them into some corner of his office.

“Well, I guess if you need to get that work done, it’s alright.” You sighed, a bit over dramatically, “But, if you need me, I’ll be back in bed waiting.” You winked, strutting out of the room, the motion causing the nightie to float up over your ass, giving him one last good look.

“Torururururu~”

Strange, his ringtone sounded hoarse and tired, maybe something was wrong with his phone? Possibly the condensation that had built up on the outside, and how a trickle of water had spilled out when he picked it up had been part of the problem.

“Hello? This is Doppio.”

“My dear sweet Doppio, I hope you’ve been enjoying your day home, I have a job for you. I need you to meet someone in Rome.”

“Ah! Boss! Sure thing, I can be on a plane tonight-“ a noise caught his attention, and he turned to the door just in time to see you had tossed the nightie onto the ground outside his office. He then heard the telltale sounds of you hurrying back into your room, jumping onto the bed with the light squeak of the mattress. Waiting, wearing absolutely nothing. Waiting for him.

“—T-Tomorrow morning. Possibly afternoon? It can be a bit hard to get tickets last notice with it being tourist season and all, you know how it is, sir.” Doppio hurried his words, stumbling a bit over his change of plans.

There was a smooth chuckle on the other end of the line, “Take the time you need, Doppio. I’ll send you his file, and your assignment.”

“Yes, thank you boss.”

As soon as the line went dead, Doppio tossed the phone on the desk, ignoring the weird crash that accompanied it, and took off running down the hall.

After all, responsibilities like this were better done right away.

That’s what made him so reliable, after all.

[xoruffitup]

Adam in Burn This (6/12)

I saw Burn This again on June 12th and HOO BOY, for this show I’ve got nothing but flail! I think I’ve already worked through most of my critical analyst urges already, so this is gonna be just pure, chaotic Adam fangirling. :’)

The man was robbed of his Tony. Pale is this character who I would absolutely hate on the page or in abstract. But then Adam, the utter jerk, barges and flails his way on stage and makes Pale so human and compelling and just absolutely riveting to watch that hating him becomes physically impossible. I mentioned before how the play functions to make the audience Anna’s proxy (down towards the end of the second section here), and never has that been truer than last night. I literally was Anna, okay. I was repelled and intimidated and scandalized by Pale’s uncontrollable, massive presence; his encroaching, searing physicality; his unpretentious, guileless anger and passions and frenetic creative energy.

One second, you’re watching this massive brickhouse tumble into crying, sniffling pieces so vulnerable and wrecked it could tear your heart out. The next he’s cracking a joke, flirting, cussing, and every single swing is so bracingly authentic that you’re literally pulled to the edge of your seat, unsure if in attraction or revulsion. Either way, you’re along for the wild ride with him every step of the way, feeling the same conflicted and unwilling compulsion towards him Anna is. Pale doesn’t just unwittingly seduce Anna; Adam absorbs every single audience member’s attention like a black hole and before you know it the audience is caring for him even before they have any hope of deciding whether they even like him. (Evidenced by the collective gasp of fear that rises from the audience when Pale, drunk, climbs outside onto a fire escape.) To call him magnetic, electric, a revelation to watch – They’re all woefully inadequate descriptions. He’s a literal inferno, blazing even when he’s silent.

So even though I have yet to reach a personal resolution on whether I accept Pale from an ethical perspective, I am nevertheless complete trash for him because Adam really leaves me no choice in the matter. Damn him. <3

Last night I sat in the upper balcony for the first time, but my friend brought binoculars we passed back and forth (lol, yes really) and I actually saw so many new, detailed nuances to Adam’s acting. I’ll go through the moments that really stood out – though it’s honestly hard to pick because he really is that Extra during the entire damn play.

Act 1

When he puts his leg up on the couch to show Anna how “fucked up” his pants are, then kind of realizes he’s standing there with his leg all weird up on the couch, asking her to look at his pants… Then just smoothly lifts his leg over the table before he lowers it, then makes the coyest face ever at her while he does this slow, deliberate twirl with the most shit-eating look on his face. The audience dies, then he cracks “I coulda been the dancer,” and the audience falls apart again.

The way you can feel his momentum and buzzing energy begin to darken, right before he breaks down completely. When he stops pacing around for the first time and his voice changes, going soft as the guilt and sorrow creeps up on him in the form of physical pain he feels driving straight through his heart. And it’s alarming, when he goes still for the first time.

I swear I’ve never seen him cry so much as last night. Once he broke down, the sniffling was constant, with these utterly, completely broken sounds mixed in whenever he tried to talk.

“Nah, this ain’t me…” “I’m trying to picture him here.”

And he keeps aggressively pushing his hair back while he’s crying, as if he can force the tears away with brute force.

OKAY so watching their first kissing scene through a pair of binoculars was like being personally undressed and ravished, holy god. A bomb could have gone off in the theater and he wouldn’t have looked away from her, he had such consuming focus. When he slides close to her, the first thing he does is slowly lift a hand to touch her hair, his eyes darting between where his fingers brush the strands and her face, gauging her reaction. And then when he leans in so slowly for the kiss, watching her first before his attention shifts to her mouth, and the kiss is slow and deep and….

Yeah I felt things.

From up in the balcony.

Adam’s kissing sex appeal is literally so flaming strong, I felt that heat from the damn balcony. I dare you to show me another man with such raw, intense sex appeal. Go on, I’ll wait. He asks her, “You okay?” when he pulls back, and she says in a sort of daze, “I’m fine.”

….Girl, I feel it too.

AHEM ANYWAY MOVING ON.

And then in the next scene, as if totally oblivious that he’s a literal tornado of sex, he just sweeps out the door with an over-the-shoulder “Alright I’m outta here” and it’s so blasé and masterfully hilarious.

Act 2 When he’s laying on the couch alone, half-asleep, and starts vaguely waving his arm in an attempt to remove invisible blankets. Then, without a single word, he reduces the entire audience to hysterics when he spends a solid two minutes pulling at the collar of his coat in a completely futile effort to take it off. That’s the level acting we’re dealing with here. He’s one-hand fighting his own coat and trying so damn hard and it’s the most entertaining thing of your entire year like WHAT EVEN.

God alsdfjsdlakjf okay when he comes out in the kimono robe and it’s open at first, for like 30 blissful seconds that massive, toned chest is out there to see above those tight black briefs and it is SO MUCH I blacked out and couldn’t even process the sight the first time I saw the play. …. Then he closes the robe, carefully ties it, fights with the sleeves because they clearly aren’t built for massive fuckin arms like his, and in an instant he’s the softest being I’ve ever seen and I’m confused as hell as to how I’m aroused and ‘omg bb’ adoring at the same time??? I think I need therapy? Or Adam needs to stop being massive and sexy but also awkward and soft at the same time, for the sake of my sanity?

I fail to imagine an image that will make my life more than giant Adam in this tiny bright purple silk kimono that barely reaches his thighs, bare foot, tying a dish towel around a pot of tea he just made like a tea cozy, then oh so carefully carrying the tea pot over to the table with his one arm still out of the sleeve and this look of intense focus on his face. I was overwhelmed and could not even begin to name the feels.

Let’s make it even WORSE shall we? When he hands Anna a cup of tea, kisses her forehead twice, says “That tea’s no good for a bad stomach. You want some milk?” then strokes her hair back, then asks “You want some eggs?”

GOD PALE GET OUT WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT

(^ We are all Anna)

The part where he sneakily picks up the phone to eavesdrop on Anna and Burton’s phone conversation, and stays completely silent for a long minute before hilariously bursting out, “YA GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY, BRUCE?!” And then AND THEN Anna angrily storms out of the bedroom and the bastard hides his face behind the empty robe sleeve and bats his eyelashes at her and bends at the knees in this cutesy little sorority girl squat and IM….?! “Real cute,” Anna says, trying real hard to be unimpressed, while the audience is in an uproar and everyone’s desperately trying to process all these newfound perplexing Adam Driver feels (WELCOME TO HELL, BITCHES. IT DOESN’T GET BETTER)

Okay okay there are SO many juicy bits during the exchange when Anna’s explaining she wants things to end between them. I was watching through the binoculars and when Anna says, “We’re apples and oranges.” He immediately gets this hella adorable smirk when he goes, “Oh yeah? Who’s the apple and who’s the orange?” Then the smirk grows when he’s all “Ever had an apple tart glazed with marmalade?” And then he’s just grinning because he’s so damn proud of how clever he is and he’s still in the FUCKIN purple kimono and he is ridiculous, I’d hate it if he didn’t own me body and soul.

Then it gets BETTER when he says, “You told me you ain’t been with no one else since you was with me a month ago. Me either. I figure one more time and we’ll have ourselves a hat trick.” And oh my GOD the shit eating grin! He looks at Larry, just grinning like a 5 year old and Larry gives him this hysterical disapproving, unamused shake of his head, but Pale just looks back at Anna full-on sunshine smiling and I’m like WHY ARE U MY PERSONAL BABY

(PS: JJ – That is what we need to see on Ben Solo’s face in TROS. You better deliver!)

He says some of my favorite dialogue here – The bit about “people walking down the street don’t mean a thing they’re doing.” He grows somber here, and this is a portion of the play’s call to its characters to strive for both emotional and artistic authenticity no matter what the price.

And then the scene gets heavy…. He stands up, disappears to get partially dressed, comes out, they start arguing, he’s still determined to make her see what’s clearly between them… And then she drops the definitive bomb over everything: “I don’t like you and I’m frightened of you.”

I watched his face through the binoculars while she delivered the blows, and it was literally like seeing a candle snuffed out. His expression melted like ice – Resolute and hard and determined one moment, and the next moment her words rush over and visibly crush him as the certainty melts from his face and leaves him empty and shell-shocked. Three seconds of silence when nothing moves but the set of his mouth and the light and strength in his face, but you’ve seen a grown man utterly crushed.

Ah, the last scene. In the first performance it was devastatingly, beautifully heartbreaking. In later performances it was humorous even while tragically inevitable. Either way, it’s brilliantly written and exquisitely acted. (Though as I’ve expressed before, I do prefer the more serious, helplessly sad versions.) I’ve never seen the two of them clutch each other as desperately and heart-rendering tenderly as they did in this performance. She fell into him on the couch, and he cradled her entire body to himself – Reaching a hand down to her thigh to pull her across his lap so his arms could engulf her entirely. They rocked together, and she clutched his arms still tighter to herself, and he kissed all over her hair while they made sounds near tears. And then Pale does break open a bit with something approaching a sob, before he curses and objects “I’m gonna cry all over your hair.”

But he only holds her tighter, as if they’ve both lost all conscious control over their bodies at this point, in the face of the all-powerful compulsion drawing them into each other’s orbits. The ending of this performance was absolutely stunning, leaving you with a myriad of unraveled emotions that are at once painfully incomplete and ill-defined, and yet just as bitingly complex and untamable as the most compelling moments of reality.

Over all, it’s nothing short of incredible to see how Adam continuously succeeds in upping his game throughout the course of the play’s run. He already brought the house down at the very first preview, and yet he manages to find new twists and interpretations to embody each and every time. What struck me this time is how boldly natural he’s become in the role – The way he leans into the accent like he’s really spent his entire damn life using the hard edges of the pronunciation like verbal brass knuckles. Adam has gotten to the point where just a single emphasized vowel sound brings the audience to hysterics:

“I heard that mollaaases you were pourin’ over maaam. Needed a shot o’ insulin.”

“Good niiiight, sleep tiiiiight.”

“Drinkin’ and thinkin’, man. Worse than drinkin’ and drivin’.”

“Fuckin’ hate Christmas. Look out… ribbons.”

“Get outta here; You’re useless!”

“Lemon will kill yaaa!”

“That was me and youuu up there.”

He has mastered how to pitch his voice for perfect, killer comedic effect. What’s more is how effortless he makes it seem; How utterly guileless. How he can swing from ugly crying to casual insensitive quip in the span of a minute, and make it just seem like the routine (if highly irregular) over-active synapses of a guy on coke. Even just his body language, the way he paces around the apartment in Act 1, completely out of sorts and out of his depth, like he’s never seen a coat rack or a stove before; A physical embodiment of his discomfiture with the emotions that don’t feel like they belong within him. His presence is imposing and even threatening, and yet his body language is alert and defensive, sometimes even self-flagellate. He embodies so many idiosyncrasies and tensions, it’s easy to see why his emotions burst from him in such tidal, chaotic floods.

I’m so thankful to have tickets to the final performance next month! I shudder to think of the feels I will drown in over how absolutely legend-level powerful Adam’s performance will be at that point. What a talent. What a man. 

I’d be overjoyed to receive any and all questions/thoughts about the play! :) Thanks for reading!

[bngtnblues]

reverie

genre: strangers to lovers!AU + non-idol!AU + fluff

author’s note: im reposting reverie again because my dumbass didn't realise if you changed your url, all your original content will be deleted as well :(  you can read iniquitous here to get the backstory as this is an alternative version <::: credits to @jitonic for the gif!!!!!!!

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader | a scenario

blurb: You, a constant sore thumb, didn’t realize how painfully obvious you were, gawking at the strawberry-scented boy who’s alluring enough for you to start sketching him.

word count: 1,870

You were quite terrible when it comes to expressing your feelings. Especially when it comes to liking someone. At a mature age, you should’ve known how to start up a conversation with this person but how the hell were you supposed to do that, since whenever he made his presence known with that strawberry scent of his, you voice gets stranded in your throat and as always, the train ride resulted in him sleeping and you stealing furtive glances at him.

And today was no different.

He sat in his usual seat; head slouched onto the window, earbuds plugged in as slow breaths exhaled out, not a single trouble on his face while the train barrelled along the rails. And then there’s you, in the seat opposite him, twiddling your fingers, then biting your lips out of habit, the process in a ceaseless replay as your conscience flew out the window ever since his toned legs made his way to the seat.  You didn’t even notice the woman, sitting two seats away from you, rolling her eyes at another episode of your obvious infatuation with the handsome man.

And boy, was he handsome. He had the type of face that could occupy your eyes from a mile’s distance. Chestnut brown hair tousled in the middle, rosy lips parted from sleeping, even his nose is perfect. To most, it might’ve been slightly big but to you, it was just right. But you never clearly saw his eyes. Masked from his hoodie’s shadow and his head tipped down whenever entering the carriage, his eyes remained vague to you as he always closed them instantly when taking his seat, much to your disappointment.

It’d be an understatement if you said this “non-existent relationship” with the hot stranger has become rather unhealthy.

So, today you thought to change your predetermined course of stolen glances and finger twiddling, you decided you might as well save the twenty-or-so minutes of this train ride by sketching him.

In your head, this was a progress from staring. In your head, you thought this would be a satisfying first step in finally asking out the hot stranger. That specific part was still complicated but all in all, it seemed like a win-win situation.

You gingerly brought out your sketchbook from your bag and soon, the artist entrenched in you made sure you captured every ounce of his face, from that small mole under his lips to his slender neck, the pencil worked tentatively onto the white page. Finishing it off, a frown formed on your face as you studied the drawing with an unsatisfying feeling because there is no way the drawing could be finished without his eyes.

And it was as if the gods above finally answered your calls after the four or more rides you’ve shared with him, but only in response to seeing your embarrassment unfold right in front of the only guy who made you question your sanity. To start on a positive note, it wasn’t your fault. It was the trains and mostly him. Your fingers compulsively grabbed onto the pencil once more because his lips just weren’t right and as you ready yourself to glimpse at him, you find yourself in a sudden shock to see him looking right at you.

Nut brown. Large, doe eyes with specks of nut brown. Damn.

You merely thought as you kept on gawking, too entranced by his bright orbs that peered right back. You felt your cheeks betray you with pink and it was a miracle your heart didn’t ram into your throat which had difficulty functioning at the moment.

Even if you were already a wreck of anxiety while he watched with such curious eyes, clearly it wasn’t enough for the gods, because you didn’t notice your sketchbook steadily falling from your hands onto the floor. It took a matter of seconds for the doe-eyed boy to break the intense stare down to direct his gaze towards it.

You followed his gaze and for a second, you thought, someone might as well shoot me now because there it is, your sketchbook lying flat open on that one shitting page. Becoming awkward while trying to seem normal in front of him turned out to be not such a good idea, because, in the next moment, your mouth opened to splutter out nonsense on how that sketch couldn’t possibly be of him.

“O-Oh, t-that’s my brother, just so you know. N-Not you, of course, because that would be just weird… but y-you look a lot like him when I think about it,” you stutter out, your heart easily matching the pace of the train. For your first actual words, you manage to say to the hot stranger, who still had his gaze fixated onto the sketchbook, you mentally cringed at how absurd you sound. That’s my brother just so you know… fucking hell, Y/N!

When he finally looked up, you were surprised to see a faint blush on his cheeks as he leans down to pick the sketchbook off the ground to offer it to you. You expected him to say something in return, a repulsed reply maybe, but his rosy lips remained sealed as he placed the book onto your hands. A process in which his fingers touched your palm, the gesture causing nerves in your body into some kind of joyride, enough for your plummeting self - confidence to hit rock high.

“It’s actually pretty shit looking, don’t you think?” you chuckle tensely, “Without the eyes and all,” you mumble the last part. Your second attempt of garnering a conversation seemed to fail as you stare at him from the corner of your eye, his eyes now focused on the ground, and an even more distinct tinge of blush spraying across his cheeks. The action making you wonder, given that there was nothing for him to be blushing about. As a matter fact, the roles should be reversed, however, here you are sprouting out crap, and there he is, flushing as if he initiated this whole drastic situation.

At once, the effects of this catastrophe was coming to an end as you noticed the train was nearing his stop and your fixated gaze on the floor saw from the corner of your eyes his legs getting up, and, all of a sudden, your mind was concocting some kind of desperate plan for you to at least to find out his name.

You set the sketchbook into your bag as you also stand up, your legs tremoring from the train reeling to the stop, your arm instinctively gripping onto the handlebar. Swallowing tensely, you train your eyes upwards, but your muscles stiffen as if your body could ignite into flames because what you least expected was the scent of strawberries inches away from you.

You feel your cheeks multiply in heat and you feel his fingers grazing yours as both of you hold onto the same handlebar above in hopes of not falling onto one another. The ding! of the doors are heard as a stream of people get off the train and you noticed the proximity with the stranger was still lingering. Why wasn’t he getting off? Your mind was spinning endlessly while more people entered the carriage.

You deepen your attention onto his hoodie, not daring to look up as you mutter out, “ My n-name’s Y/N, by the way…umm, isn’t this your stop?” and when you finally have the courage to peer up, you see him staring down at you with those eyes of his and it was as if all you could, in return, was treasure his beauty. You gauge his subtle expression with a clobbering heart and some sweaty palms and he held your stare with inquiring eyes. You compel your mouth to mutter out something, anything before he cuts you to the chase.

“And for a second I actually thought that sketch would be of me .” His voice whispers so delicately to you, so lightly with a hint of a tease, it mesmerizes you to the point where you wondered what he was whispering about. In a matter of a heartbeat, it dawned upon you that he was implying about the sketch that led to you being in this position.

You blink, stunned and perplexed by his answer. “W-What?”

His lips curl into a dazzling smile as he sees your dazed face. “You’re-” The monotone words of the train announcer disrupt him as she signals the doors closing, and you hear a curse fall out of the hot stranger’s mouth as he darts his eyes to the window behind you. When he fixes his eyes back onto you, he seems hesitant to finish the sentence, as if he lost the confidence to say whatever he wanted to say.

With a sheepish smile, he ruffled his hair to utter a sorry, before he dashes out, through the doors with earbuds stashed into his jean’s pocket and a waft of strawberries left behind. You simply watch him leave before impulsively grabbing your bag and rushing out behind him, barely scraping through the closing doors. As you step out onto the platform, you instantly look for his retreating figure through the deserted station. When your eyes land on a white hoodie a few steps ahead of you, you call out into the breezeless night.

“Wait, what were you going to say?!”

He immediately looks over his shoulder in alarm and when he saw you slightly out of breath form, his face contorted into a startled expression before his lips slowly curved into a slight smirk. With long strides, he reached you in a matter of seconds. You straightened yourself up in attempt to peer up at him and utter out,

“I know I’m quite insane to jump out of the train to follow a complete stranger… b-but I won’t be able to sleep tonight without thinking about what y-you were about to say, “you pause to curse yourself for stuttering(again) before quickly adding, “and also it’s been bugging me to know your name ever since the moment I first saw you.”

Your eyes fall to his black sneakers and you slowly let out a long-held breath.

“I was going to say you’re shit at lying.”

You instantly widen your eyes, still staring holes at his shoes while mentally wince.

“But it’s not every day a cute girl jumps out the train for you.”

You slowly look up at him, wide-eyed and all to see the station lights giving him an angelic glow and his eyes fixated on you with amusement as he holds out a hand, enough for your cheeks to heat up again.

“And as for my name, it’s Jungkook.”

You clear your throat and cautiously stretch out your hand to meet his, a prompt of warmth embraces you as he envelops your hand into his. You internally relax a bit as you gently beam up at him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.”

(^-^)

Bonus ending:

“Was it that obvious I was staring at you during all those rides?”

“Oh, definitely.“

“ Then, why didn’t you say anything?“

“Let’s just say good things come to those who wait, Y/N.”

[bodyglitter]

Part One

August 15, 2012. I remember this day very well. Actually, the only thing I remembered. The day my world turned upside down. The day I lost my memory.

Do you get that feeling that everyone hates you? Well, I know everyone hates me, for one reason. I’m Niall Horan’s girlfriend. Every time I login to my Twitter account, my mentions are full of hate. Why don’t I just deactivate?

The digital clock in my bedroom ticked from 9:59 to 10:00. I was sprawled carelessly across my bed, scrolling through my Twitter, teardrops falling down my face and splattering onto my phone. Why do I even bother? I silently cried, trying not to wake Niall, as I hugged my giant Pink pillow to my chest. I heard my door creak. Niall was peering in through the crack. I quickly hid my phone under my pillow and pretend nothing had just happened. He opened the door all the way, and came in, not shutting the door.

“Babe, what’s going on?” Niall asked, concerned.

“Nothing, what makes you think there’s something wrong? There’s nothing,” I say, sniffling. I clearly wasn’t a great actress. I know he had seen everything that just happened.

“Yes there is. I just saw what happened, don’t deny it.” He said, wiping my tears from my face, sitting down on my bed.

“But they all hate me. I don’t deserve to be your girlfriend, I don’t deserve to live.” I whispered.

“Brooke. Look at me. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I chose you out of a million fans. Are you really going to let a bunch of people sitting behind a computer screen get to you?” Niall said, as I looked into his ocean blue eyes.

“I guess not.” I said, wiping away the remainder of my tears. I could always count on Niall to make me feel better, no matter what mood I was in.

He leaned in for a kiss, the smell of peppermint lingering on his breath. We kissed passionately, staying in that position for a couple moments.

“Let’s go somewhere.” he said

“That’s not a good idea. There’s-” he held up his slender finger up to my pursed lips.

“Paparazzi won’t be out this late. Besides, who cares if they’re there? I love being seen in public with you” he said, knowing what I was going to say.

“Well okay.” I said, as a smile crept up on my face. “Let me get dressed.”

He stayed there looking at me.

“Um Niall? Can I change?” I ask.

“Why can’t you change in front of me?” he asks seductively.

“Get out Niall!” I tease, throwing my pillow at him

“Okay okay!” he said, smiling, as he walked out of my room, closing the door quietly. Thank God.

I opened up the Twitter app and saw a tweet from Niall in my mentions.

“@NiallOfficial: Guys leave @brookiecookiee alone. Hating her won’t make me like you. Love you babe xx” Awh, what a sweetie, I thought. I laid my phone on top of my pink dresser.

I surveyed my walk-in closet for something to wear.

“Ugh I have nothing to wear.” I shouted at my overflowing wardrobe. 

Finally, after five minutes, I put on my favorite plain white sleeveless blouse and bleached high waisted jeans shorts both from Urban Outfitters, my favorite place to shop besides Top Shop. I bent down to pick up my wedges, when I felt a pair of hands on my waist.

“Niall, not now! When we get home!” I said, winking and biting my lip.

“I love it when you play hard to get.” he said seductively.

I reached on the top shelf for my makeup bag, and Niall slapped my hand.

“Niall, what was that for?” I asked annoyed.

“You don’t need makeup. You’re prettier without it.” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.

I smiled. He clutched my hand, and we walked down the stairs together. Niall grabbed his Ramones jacket off the counter and grabbed his keys. He had just passed his driving test a few days ago.

“Ready babe?” he asked while slipping into his jacket.

“Yeah.” I mumbled, fumbling with the zipper on my leather jacket.

We both headed for the front door, Niall in front. He grabbed his set of keys as we approached the door. He slowly opened the door, scanning the area for any signs of paparazzi.

“Coast is clear.” he uttered to himself. “After you, my lady.” He said to me, making a gesture to the door.

“Thanks.” I said, smiling, walking to his shining black Range Rover in the black night.

We hopped in the car. He shut his door and jammed his key into the engine.

“What do you want to listen to?” he asked

I fished around for a CD in my messy purple Gucci purse. I was debating whether i should choose Up All Night or Take Me Home. I decided Up All Night, because of all the good memories. I was just a fan back then.

I slipped the CD in the CD player. Niall had no idea what CD I put in there. “Everything About You” starts blaring through the stereo.

Although Niall’s eyes were fixed on the road, I could see a smile plastered on his face. He starts singing along to the track.

“So… where are go-” Niall held up a finger to my lips, shushing me, one hand on the steering wheel. All while he was completely focused on the road. Wow, I thought. His driving teacher must’ve thought him well.

“Shhh…. It’s a surprise!” he said as we came to a stop sign. In my side mirror, black vans started to appear. 

“Niall!” I whined. “You said there wouldn’t be any paps!“ 

“Princess, I’m sorry, I had no clue.” He said with true sympathy. 

He started to speed up to get away from the paparazzi, the numbers on the speedometer going higher and higher by the second. 

“Niall watch out!” I shrieked, as we neared a large tree. He noticed at the last second, and the Range Rover hit the tree.

Everything went blank. 

Part Two

Niall’s P.O.V.

“Niall watch out!” Brooke screeched as my car ran straight into the tree ahead of us, paparazzi still behind us.

“FUCK OFF!” I yell at them, flicking them off, causing them to scurry. Ugh, I thought, what will the tabloids make out of this? Whatever, I thought, pushing away the thought from my dark clouded mind, trying to focus on what was important.

I looked back at the passenger seat. Brooke was unconscious, seatbelt nearly choking her. The car was smashed, the windshield, everything. It was a miracle we were both still alive. Well, I don’t know if Brooke is, I thought, tears streaming down my face, forming a puddle on my jeans. There was no way I could drive this wrecked car. I unbuckled both our seatbelts, and opened my door. It fell to the ground, shattering. I picked Brooke up bridal style and patted my jeans down to make an attempt to find my phone. Of course, when I actually needed it, I didn’t have it. Fuck it, I thought. I started running, Brooke in my arms. I had no idea where I was going, but she needed to get to a hospital immediately. As I ran, it started to drizzle, then it started pouring rain. Brooke’s white top was becoming see-through, so I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her. She looked like an angel, even while unconscious. (ya girl dyin and you care that her top becomin see through? im..)

When I finally reached the hospital, I dashed through the doors, almost slipping on wet tile. 

“WE NEED DOCTORS NOW, IT’S AN EMERGENCY!” I half yelled, half panted.

What seemed like a million doctors came out of the ICU and took Brooke out of my hands, rolling her onto a stretcher, wheeling her faster than the speed of lightning. 

After five hours, a nurse comes out, heading in my direction. 

“Mr. Hor-”

“IS SHE OKAY?! IS SHE ALIVE?!” I screamed, shaking the nurse. People were staring, so what? I care about Brooke, I really do. That’s what I was going to tell her in the car. Maybe right now, I won’t even be able to ever tell her. 

“Mr. Horan, please calm down. She’s sleeping on pills but I’m afraid she’s lost her memory." 

Part Three

Niall’s P.O.V.

I could feel something warm running down my cheek, a tear. I push hastily past the nurse, running to Brooke’s room. She wouldn’t remember me?! I thought, angry welling in my cheeks. She wouldn’t remember the memories we shared, the short films we made, the little kisses we shared. Wait, the short films we made. That gave me an idea.

I ran down the narrow hallway, faster and faster, praying I would find her room. I slowed my pace, becoming out of breath. I looked in every room, and finally stood before the one she was resting in. I sprinted into her room, and examined her for a few seconds. I broke down in tears. I couldn’t look at her. This is all my fault, why couldn’t I just listen to her?

I kneeled down beside her hospital bed and took her hand in mine, tightly, and looked at her angelic figure. Not even a scratch.

"Brooke,” I said, lips trembling. “I know you can’t hear me, but I love you.” I took out a locket from my pocket and placed it around her neck. I kissed her forehead, shortly before the same nurse came bursting into the room.

“Mr. Horan, please listens to me. It’s just a temporary thing, it’ll come back in a few hours,because the crash wasn’t that bad. You’re very lucky this time.” the stout nurse said.

“Oh thank you!” I sigh in relief and hugged her tightly.“She may be discharged right now if you like, I can see she’s about to wake up.” the nurse says, striding out if the door.

I heard mumbling, so I looked back. Brooke was getting out of the hospital bed, hospital gown and everything on. 

“Brooke!” I ran up to her and hugged her. “How are you feeling?”“Who’s that? Who are you?” she questioned.“Your name is Brooke. Brooke D'arcangelo. I’m Niall Horan, I’m in One Direction, the worlds most famous boyband, and I’m also your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Prove it.” she said.

“There’s no time for that here. I’ll prove it when we get home.” I said. She shrugged. 

I helped her out of her hospital gown, and into her normal clothes.

We walked outside in the damp, humid weather. I used the hospital payphone to call a taxi. Within a few moments the taxi arrived. 

I helped her get into the taxi, climbing in after her, buckling my seatbelt. I realized I was sitting on a newspaper, so I picked it up and started reading. A certain words and a picture caught my eye.

“Niall Horan & Girlfriend Car Fiasco” It was a whole article about the crash, with the picture of the horribly damaged car, and of course, the picture of me flicking off the paparazzi. Great, I thought. Just what I needed to lift the spirit.

We arrived home, and I tipped the taxi driver, helping Brooke, cautiously, out of the car. We walked hand-in-hand up to the porch. I grabbed my set of keys out of my jeans pocket and unlocked the front door. 

I watched her walk into the house, looking puzzled.

“This is a beautiful house.” She breathed in wonder.

“Because you live here.” I say, with a smile on my face. I run upstairs to retrieve the box of home videos we made together. Brooke had always wanted to be a filmmaker. Hopefully this will jog back her memory, I thought.

I ran downstairs with the heavy box. I walk into the screening room and set the box full to the brim of DVDs in front of the big screen. I call for Brooke. She rushes in.

“Listen Brooke, I don’t know if you know this, but you lost your memory, and I’m going to try to make an attempt to get your memory back with these home videos.” She nods and sits down. I slip one of the movies in and sit next to her.

A video appeared on the screen of us baking chocolate chip cookies together for the boys. I’d never forget this memory.

Brooke was mixing the ingredients together, as I licked the leftover cookie dough from the package. 

“Are you going to help?” Brooke asks.

“Um… well you see-" 

"Fine, have it your way. You won’t be able to eat any of the cookies then.” Brooke teases.

“Okay, two can play at this game.” I say mischievously.

“Let’s go then.” Brooke says, ‘accidentally’ flicking a spoonful of dough at me.

“Oh, you like to play, don’t you?” I say, grabbing a handful of cookie dough from the bowl and throwing it at her. By the end of the video, we both looked like abdominal snowmen, but most of our fast wasn’t plastered. (’abdominal’…snowmen..)

“Maybe we should just buy cookies from the store?” she asks. I nod.

“You’ve got something on your nose.” I say, kissing the tip of it.

“You’ve got something on your lips.” she says, kissing me on the lips, even though there was no dough on my lips.

“I wonder how I’m going to get this dough of off me….” she says.

“Why can’t I just lick you clean?” I ask. She giggles.

We both look at each other, for what seemed like a thousand years, then to the camera. I leaned in for a kiss, and Brooke covers the camera with her hand.

I get up and slip in another DVD. I remember this one very well. I secretly videotaped the time me and Brooke were dancing before the charity event me, the boys, and their girlfriends were attending. I had to admit, we were both shit dancers. But that didn’t stop me. This video was probably the cutest one. 

“Niall, no! Right foot, then left foot, follow my lead.” she said, as I accidentally stepped on her shoes. The video went on for about five more minutes.

The whole day we watched the box of home videos. It was no use. I walked up to my bedroom. I sat on my bed, getting lost in my thoughts, until someone opened the door and then slammed it shut. It was just Brooke. She was walking towards me, her face twisted with anger. 

“Woah, Brooke. What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“I got my memory back. I’m beyond furious. You see what happens when you don’t listen to me? Look at the shit you got us into. Look at what you caused.” she yells.

“What the fuck? Are you blaming me for this?” I yell back, standing up, clenching my fists.

“No, I promise there won’t be any paparazzi, my ass. Yes, I’m blaming you, this is all your fault!” she yells. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her like this.

“You were the one that agreed!” I screamed.

“I didn’t want to, but you FORCED me!” she yelled, eyes blazed with fury.

“You know what, fine. If all you want to do is talk shit, pack your bags and get the fuck out of my house. We’re done. It’s done.”