#anyway how are you guys. i missed you. and yes it is my birthday today. i even updated my bio and stuff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

husbandhoshi · 9 months ago

Text

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

#literally on my hands and knees begging for the tags to work #mine #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu angst #seventeen angst #mingyu imagines

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engie-ivy · 1 year ago

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(I wrote a 'day-after-Sirius'-birthday' fic! Totally not just me being late for Sirius' birthday. Nope, not at all. This was planned. With a very Fluffy ending, because Sirius deserves happiness for his day-after-his-birthday!)

@wolfstarmicrofic 3rd: gather

862 words

Remus is doing his semester abroad, and Sirius goes to surprise him with a visit and a confession.

At Your Doorstep

Sirius tries to gather his courage. Not for the first time, he curses James Potter's name, while simultaneously thanking his lucky stars to have someone like James Potter in his life.

Yesterday was Sirius' birthday.

His birthday plans consisted of sitting at home playing sad songs on his guitar while wallowing in self-pity. James came to visit anyway. Sirius wouldn't have blamed him if he hadn't, as Sirius hasn't exactly been fun to be around lately.

Remus left two months ago to do his semester abroad. Of course, Sirius knew he was going to miss him, but god, he hadn't expected it to be this bad! He's been a shell of his normal self, acting cranky, short-tempered and withdrawn.

James did, however, manage to pique his interest with his birthday gift: plane tickets to go see Remus.

When Sirius immediately wanted to grab the tickets, James had quickly pulled them out of reach. "Uh-uh, if you want them, you must first accept the terms and conditions."

"And what are those?"

"You can only go if you promise that when you're there, you're going to tell Remus how you feel."

The prospect of seeing Remus again was too much for Sirius to resist, so he had accepted James' terms. He had promised, solemnly sworn even, something they do not take lightly, to confess his feelings for Remus.

Sirius got on a plane yesterday, flew all night, took a cab giving the driver Remus' address, and now here he is, standing on the doorstep of some student housing appartement getting ready to put it all out there for the person he can't deny anymore he's terribly in love with.

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The door is thrown open and a lanky guy with bouncing red curls appears.

Sirius realizes this must be Fabian, Remus' roommate. Despite never having spoken with Fabian, or even having seen Fabian before, Sirius does not like Fabian. Remus talks about his new roommate just a tad too much for Sirius’ liking. 'I was having dinner with Fabian yesterday… Fabian took me to this coffeeshop the other day… Fabian and I are going to watch this movie…'

Fabian looks Sirius up and down, and then a flirtatious smile appears on his face as he leans against the doorpost. "Why, hi there. How may I help you this evening?"

"I… uhm, I'm looking for Remus?"

"Oh." Fabian visibly deflates and he straightens. "I'm sorry, Remus is unavailable today, I'm afraid."

"Unavailable?" Sirius repeats.

"Yes, he made it clear he is not to be disturbed from his utmost important task of feeling sorry for himself," Fabian says. "Apparently, his guy back home had his birthday yesterday, and when Remus didn't hear from him, he spent the day convincing himself that his crush has forgotten all about him and must have been out partying with other boys all night." Fabian rolls his eyes. "I've tried to get him out of his room, but he has opted to wallow in his misery about his unrequited crush instead."

"His…crush?" Sirius manages to say, his brain still trying to catch up.

Fabian squints his eyes and looks at him more closely. "Wait… 'tall and broad-shouldered', 'Hair the colour of the night sky falling in soft waves over his shoulders', 'bright eyes with an ever-present sparkle'..." He gasps and clasps his hand over his mouth. "Oh my god, it's you! You're Sirius Black!"

Sirius nods dumbly.

"Oh, no, no, no." Fabian hides his face in his hands and groans. Then he looks at Sirius again, pleadingly. "Please, please tell me you're here to confess your undying love for Remus, so that he isn't gonna murder me for spilling the beans?"

"Uhm, yes?"

Fabian's mood changes instantly, and a relieved grin spreads over his face. "Excellent!" He exclaims, and before Sirius can say another word he turns around and shouts "Remus! There's someone here to see you!"

Sirius hears a door open and close, some shuffling, and a moment later, Remus appears in the hallway. He's wearing pyjama pants that are too big and his most worn-out jumper with both old and new food stains, he has chocolate smears around his mouth and his hair is sticking up in all directions.

He looks perfect.

"Fab, I told you, I don't want to see anyone today. I'm-" His eyes fall upon Sirius and he immediately goes quiet, his mouth falling open.

Sirius has spent his whole flight thinking about what to say, rehearsing the words in his head, but now that Remus is looking at him, and he's looking at Remus, he's overcome with just how much he missed him. Words suddenly don't seem necessary. He rushes towards Remus, and Remus snaps out of his daze just in time to take a step towards him, before Sirius gathers him in his arms.

"What are you… How are you… Is this real?" Remus stammers, clinging to Sirius' shoulders.

"I missed you," Sirius whispers into Remus' hair. "I missed you so much. I just had to see you."

Remus lifts his head and searches Sirius' eyes, and what he finds there is really all he needs to know.

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar college au #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #supportive james potter

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hockeyandhrsepwr · 1 year ago

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World Cup Bound

Two Canadian kids attend the University of Michigan for athletics. What happens next?

Owen Power x soccer player!reader

Face claim: Jayde Rivière (Canadian national team & Man United womens team player, graduated from Michigan)

Ynkicksballs

Liked by owenpower_, canadasoccer & more

Ynkicksballs who wore it better? Excited to wear the leaf for the WWC and having a blast here in Aus!🇦🇺 #itsgotime #teamcanada #gdaymate

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C_sinc12 you

Janinebeckie4 you! Miss you

Ynkicksballs we’re missing you😢 get better soon 🫶

Poulin you

CanadaSoccer you! You rock the red & white!

Stephlabbe you

Lhughes_06 you

Umichwsoccer you

Umichhockey sorry big dog but y/n

Brendanbrisson you

Nblanks you

Owenpower_ gee thanks guys

Owenpower_ also babe you cut off 90% of my jersey that don't seem fair

Kentjohnson13 Owen

Ynkicksballs coughs *liar*

Kentjohnson13 😑

Manutdwomen That’s our forward!!

Owenpower_

Liked by Ynkicksballs, fan45 & more

Owenpower_ you may have won an Olympic Gold, but you said yes when I asked you out so I think I won the better prize. Happy birthday my love and good luck today!

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Ynkicksballs Ow🥹 l love you so much

Owenpower_ I wish I was able to describe how much I love you ❤️

Ynkicksballs Next year you'll be adding a World Cup to that sentence

juliagrosso Thats right baby!!

Fan26 good luck today y/n!!

Jimmylambert Kick Americas ass!!

Nolan_moyle that’s not nice?

Fan93 isn’t her birthday tomorrow?

Fan88 not in Australia

Umichwsoccer go y/n go y/n!

Sabres we’re cheering you on from buffalo!!

Ynkicksballs

Liked by mackie.samo, lhughes_06 & more

Ynkicksballs ‘date night’ he says. Let’s play basketball he says at over 6 feet when I’m 5’4. Oh look who’s at the door randomly he says

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Owenpower_ wasn’t it still a fun night thought?

Ynkicksballs would’ve preferred it without the third wheel but yes

Kentjohnson he invited me!

Ynkicksballs to pick something up! Not to stay

Mackie.samo but who won the basketball game?

Ynkicksballs me duh. I may be short but I’m still the superior athlete

Owenpower_ you kept kicking me in the shins until I gave in

Ynkicksballs so?

Ynkicksballs

Liked by Kentjohnson13, umichhockey & more

Ynkicksballs second day of sophomore year, some guy ran into me in the athletics building and needed help finding a room. We kept bumping into each other until he finally asked me out and 3 years later we're both living out our childhood dreams. Happy anniversary O, love you big (🐶)

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Owenpower_ I love doing life with you❤️

Ynkicksballs no one I’d rather do this shit with

Brendanbrisson he talked about nothing but you for weeks

Owenpower_ you were just jealous I’d met her before you (she wouldn’t go for you anyway)

C_sinc12 ah to be young & in love

Fan46 so cute!!

Umichhockey soccer 🤝 hockey

Umichwsoccer power couple right there. Happy to have contributed

Jacobtruscott his sewer game got infinitely better because of you

Owenpower_ lots of keepy uppies were practiced

Kentjohnson keepy uppies is a fun word

Ynkicksballs you’re a very simple man Kent

HockeyCanada Mr & mrs canada

Canadasoccer the Canadian sports couple

#owen power #owen power x reader #Owen power Instagram au #nhl insta edit #hockey instagram au #buffalo sabres #umich hockey #reader insert #instagram au #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey blurb #team canada #woso #jjs insta edits #woso insta edit #womens world cup #sports colliding

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wellcollapse · 6 months ago

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Last anon I forgot but I also think quite fee que toy about buck meets the diazes lol this is me coming out as a fangirl for your writing

hi and also hello!! i'm gonna use this as my tease tidbit tuesday but really it's all for you :)

i was also tagged by @cal-daisies-and-briars, thank you 🥰

tagging @bewilderedbuck @captain-hen @loserdiaz @jeeyuns @shitouttabuck

@likegoldintheair @elvensorceress @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@daffi-990 :)

“I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?” “Ah — no, you’re good,” Buck says. “ I was just trying to calculate how much food I’d need to buy for this recipe. We’re, uh, we’re having a barbecue later this week. It’s actually for—” “For your birthday, yes," Ramon murmurs. "Eddie told us earlier this morning.” “Yeah,” Buck says, grinning. “Anyway, I told him we could cancel it, or reschedule, but he wouldn’t hear it. So now I’ve got to figure out how much shrimp I’ll need to feed twenty-seven people — or, I guess it’s twenty-eight, now, since I know Abuela wouldn’t miss it for the world. I know Michael — Bobby’s wife’s ex-husband — is trying to go vegan, and so is his son Harry, and I know Hen’s son is allergic to garlic, so I’ll have to check the potluck list and make sure that everyone else brings enough for them to eat. They’re going to need at least one entreé, plus a few appetizers and a couple of desserts that they’d want to eat, so I need to make sure we have it all on the spreadsheet. It’s, uh, it’s a lot of work, but…” Buck falters when he sees the look on Ramon’s face. “You’re inviting your captain’s wife’s ex-husband?” Ramon asks, enunciating each word slowly, like he doesn’t fully understand what he’s hearing. “They’re still friends,” Buck says hesitantly. “Besides — that’s how we work. At the 118, you know, we’re like a big extended family. Parents, siblings, cousins, friends — everyone is welcome.” “I see,” Ramon says. So I’ve got twenty-eight people I need to buy shrimp for,” Buck says wryly. He bites his lip, making a split-second decision. “Thirty, if you and Mrs. Diaz want to come too.” Ramon leans away slightly, obviously taken aback. “Are you sure, Buck? We wouldn’t want to disrupt your birthday plans.” “Nah, no worries, Mr. Diaz. Eddie was really excited about this trip — I know it means a lot that you guys are here to visit. ” Buck shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a slight smile. “ I’m sure Eddie would be happy to have you there, and thirty is an easier number than twenty-eight, anyway.” “Well, thank you.” Ramon says, seemingly mollified. He leans back against the couch, his expression softening into something more gentle. “I appreciate you saying that, Buck. I know your opinion is important to my son.” “I hope so,” Buck says quietly. “Eddie, he — his opinion is really important to me, too.” He swallows down the sudden lump in his throat. “I — I don’t think I’d be where I am today without him.” Shit. It’s too much, too vulnerable, too soon, and Buck clamps his mouth shut tight. “Uh—” he says hastily, shaking his head. “I — I just mean that I’d probably still be rooting for the Eagles during the Super Bowl if Eddie hadn’t been there to show me the light.” This is, apparently, the right thing to say, because the slight smile on Ramon’s face widens.

#answered #anon #nice messages #rae writes #fic: buck meets the diazes

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fionajames · 1 year ago

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sam golbach x reader

hello guys! this is sam x reader. i have not mentioned the word y/n or any specific genders for the reader! (if i have, please let me know so i can change it!)

today (27th of nov) is sam's birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so happy birthday to sam!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im really grateful towards snc and sam in particular for being such a cheerful guy.

anyways, hope you enjoy!!!!

(also snc fans, please request things)

edit: GUYS DO WE WANT A PART TWO? SEND A REQUEST OR COMMENT IF YES. PELASE

The sun seeped through the windows of the bookshop as you rolled back your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee and moving to flip the front door’s sign to read ‘Open’.

It was a slightly dreary Saturday morning, because even though the sun was glowing a beautiful yellow, the pavement was covered in puddles and the windows were the hosts of hundreds of water drop races. The last half-an-hour of your life had been spent watching three raindrops race down the huge window pane quickly, but now, they had formed a puddle at the base.

Saturdays in the bookshop were inconsistent.

Most of the time, lots of people would come - usually spread throughout the day but around early afternoon was a popular time - and browse or buy, but sometimes, only a few people would come in. And so, you sat behind the front desk of your mediaeval-looking bookshop with your nose buried in a book you’d bought yourself.

An hour or so went by before the little bell above the door rang as someone entered.

Quickly, you looked up, and immediately your eyes fell on the person who’d entered.

Looking around your shop curiously was a boy who seemed to be your age with short gold hair that was gleaming in the yellow light, shining like the sun itself. His eyes were a shade of baby blue, sparkling and swirling with flecks of various blues as they studied the books carefully. He had creamish pink skin and was wearing a blue and white hoodie with black ripped jeans.

To anyone else, he looked like a boy.

To you, he looked like a descendant of Apollo himself.

You watched with piqued interest as he looked around the store, whether it was something in particular he was searching for, you couldn’t tell.

And then, all of a sudden, he raised his gaze, and it locked with yours.

You found yourself guiltlessly inspecting his eyes from a distance, watching the swimming blue calm before you, glistening with intrigue just like you expected your own eyes were. The two of you found yourselves admiring each other, completely oblivious to the other doing the same and the time spent doing so.

Your thoughts were only knocked from their Cloud 9 headspace when a familiar person entered the shop, the doorbell ringing like an alarm arising you from your sleep. You turned to see your most common customer, an elderly woman with grey hair tied in a bun, wise brown eyes, olive skin and dressed in a cardigan with her half-moon glasses.

“Miss Xena!” You greeted cheerfully as the woman entered the store, glancing between you and the boy. She raised a smirkish eyebrow at you. “How are you?”

“Could be better,” Xena croaked, smirking to herself as she hobbled over to you. The Apollo descendant coughed awkwardly and tore his gaze from you, his face flushing pink. “How has your day been, sweetheart?”

You smiled to Xena - as that was her first name, you only called her Miss Xena out of politeness, even though she insisted you call her by simply her first name - and made friendly conversation with her. At one point, she glanced around the store in search of the new boy, and when she discovered he wasn’t in sight, she bent over the desk to whisper in your ear.

“That boy is admiring you,” she whispered into your ear with a huge smirk and you laughed, pink dusting over your cheeks lightly. “And you're admiring him.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Miss,” you whispered back and she laughed deeply.

“In my day, if you thought someone was attractive, you asked him out,” Xena replied in a teasing tone and again, you chuckled. Xena said ‘in my day’ so much it was getting hard to tell actually how old she was. As far as you knew, she was an immortal old lady, born who-knows-when.

“Alright,” you agreed none-the-less, as Xena wouldn’t stop bothering you unless you did agree. And as much as you loved the old woman, you did want to continue admiring this golden boy without any witnesses.

Xena bought her book - something by Anne Frank from the late forties - and quickly left the shop, but not without reminding you of your job.

Once she’d left, you let out a sigh of relief and slumped over your desk. For a minute, you stood like that, face buried in your arms as you attempted to hide your smile - one of frustration and childish giddiness.

That was when someone lightly tapped your forearm.

You jolted up, and came face-to-face with the boy.

He was even more youthfully god-like in appearance up close.

His blue eyes met yours as you studied his face, taking in every detail and feature like you would read a book.

“Do you have any book recommendations?” He asked lightly, his voice high with nervousness as you nodded slowly, before pinching yourself as a remainder to get back to work.

“I do!” You replied cheerfully, watching the rigid boy relax slightly, a soft smile growing on his lips. “What kind of books do you like?”

He bit his lip and thought for a minute, before blushing. “I’m not really sure, I don’t read that much,” he admitted sheepishly and you nodded in understanding.

You began attempting to select a book for him based on the answers he had to your questions, and eventually ended up handing him ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’, with a strange feeling he might like it. He studied the book carefully, before nodding thoughtfully.

“I’ll take it, thank you,” he whispered and as you nodded, typing the information into the computer, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was wondering if I could maybe have your number?”

You froze, fingers still pressed to the keyboard before you hurriedly deleted the mistypes you’d made before turning to him and nodding, a glowing smile on your face. He relaxed and beamed. “Of course,” you told him, before scribbling down your phone number on a sticky-note and handing it to him. You told him your name with a grin.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he completed wistfully. “I’m Sam. Sam Golbach.” You stretched out your hand which he gripped lightly and shook. Even though the contact was brief, it sent an array of sparks up your fingers and hand, all through your arm and into your body.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam,” you told him sincerely, watching him pay for the book without his eyes leaving yours. He nodded, just as giddy as you.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he told you, watching you hand him his book in a paper bag. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” you told him, watching him step away from the counter. “Call me.”

Sam turned to you, a grin on his face.

“I will!”

hope you enjoyed!!!! happy birthday to sam!!!!!

have a good day/night guys!!!!!

and request please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

#sam golbach #sam golbach birthday #sam golbach x reader #snc #sam and colby #colby brock #colby #sam #xplr #xplr gang #ka’ra writes ❤️

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noodyl-blasstal · 1 year ago

Text

King of the (bouncy) Castle

It's @taznovembercelebration day 17 and today I drew the prompt "soft"

Read below or on Ao3 if you prefer. Missed yesterday's? Find it here.

“Ko!” Lup yells from the hall.

“What?” He screams from his bedroom, because he’s still deciding on what to wear and if it’s that urgent she can come in.

“Do you know anyone else?”

“In general? Or?”

“Don’t be a dick. Do you know anyone who can come today?”

“Why?”

“Magnus had to drop out.”

“We can win without him.”

“A team is four people.”

“Ask Dav.”

“He’s racing today”

“Lucretia?”

“She just laughed until I hung up. It was a solid 3 minutes.”

“Merle?”

“I’m going to need you to work from the assumption that I have remembered our joint friends with whom we spend all our time”

“But seriously, Merle.”

“Taako, I have tried everyone we jointly know. He said he was going to be busy in the greenhouse, and then he said some other things. Would you like me to tell you what those other things are? Because I can. I can tell you exactly what he had planned for the onions because he told me because I had him on speaker phone and I got trapped in my shirt and he said a lot of words before I could hang up. They’re burned into my brain forever and cha’girl is happy to share that burden.”

“No! Lulu, don’t! I’ll cast silence.”

“I’ll counterspell it. Now start thinking of people.”

“Angus?”

“I also know Angus, and he’s a literal child.”

“He’s, what, 6 now?”

“He’s eleven, Taako, you baked him a cake in the shape of the number for his birthday two weeks ago.” There’s no need for Lup to slander him like this.

“Eleven! That’s basically an adult for humans, right?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to stop doing special magic boy lessons with him because he’s all grown up now?” Lup goes for the jugular. He doesn’t have to stand for this cruelty, for the implication that he actually likes spending time with the baby.

“What aboutttt… erm…” Taako changes the topic seamlessly and casts his mind furiously about for a name, any name, of a person Lup wouldn’t have already called. There’s one that popped up as soon as Lup asked and he’s trying his best to see round it but it keeps sidling into his eye line. He can’t though. It’d be a disaster. “Errrrr… Brian.”

“No. Absolutely anyone else.”

“What’s wrong with Brian?”

“He’s in a cult!”

“But apart from the cult stuff he’s lovely.”

“Taako! Do you want to win or not?”

Fine. Fine! Taako does very much want to win, especially after Lydia tripped him last year.

“Kravitz.” He says it fast, like he’s ripping off a plaster. Maybe Lup won’t put two and two together.

“The guy from work?”

“No?”

“Oh, you know another Kravitz, do you?”

“Yes?”

“Is any of that supposed to have convinced me?”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“So… different Kravitz? How do you know Kravitz-Who’s-Not-From-Work? Why do you have a way of getting in touch with him?” Lup’s going to cling to this an unnecessary amount.

“Ooooh are we talking about Kravitz?” Barry, fucking Barry, asks. Wandering his ass right into their private conversation.

“This is a private conversation, Barold.” Yells Taako through the door of his room into the hall of their too-small shared apartment.

“Would you like me to put my noise cancelling headphones on?” Barry asks, earnestly, like he’d actually fucking do it if Taako said yes.

“Absolutely not, Barry, You live in this house and you have every right to be in this hallway.” Lup snaps. She’s still mad about last time Taako forgot to tell Barry he could take the headphones off. In his defence, he made him a cake about it. A jake, in fact, with edible press studs. Barry loved it! Plus, he was listening to one of his lectures, he was fine, happy as a clam!

“Fine.” Taako threw up his hands, no one could see him, but it felt important to do it anyway, you know, for the drama. He couldn’t argue with this, he didn’t have a choice, he may as well give in and call Kravitz, they’ve both worked together to twist his arm. “You’re making me do this though. It’s not because I want to. I’ve been compelled.”

“What?” Says Barry, perplexed. “I thought we were just talking about your crush.”

“His what?” Says Lup.

Taako springs forward and manages to flick the lock across the second before Lup tries the handle.

“You’re in love with death?” She tries the handle a few more times, as if it’ll jiggle the lock free.

“A man isn’t his job, Lup.” Taako shouts back. Denying everything.

“That wasn’t a no!”

“I have to ring him, because you’re making me. Or do you not want to win Bounce Off 2: Bounce in the City?”

There’s grumbling from the other side of the door followed by a muttered “c’mon Barold,” fakeout. Taako’s wise to it though, so he isn’t shocked by her ‘one last try’ of the door handle, or the second attempt that follows after she does fake footsteps away from the door.

“Fine! He’d better be down though and good.”

“He’s tall.” Says Barry, conversationally. He’d better not plan on telling Lup anything else.

“Good. We can use height.Is he strong?” Lup asks.

Kravitz is strong, Taako knows that for normal reasons, reasons like he can carry a lot of pastries when he orders them; and that time he helped Taako move the big table when someone spilled and he had to clean under it. Not reasons like all the time he spends staring at Kravitz’s forearms, and his thighs, and his everything else. Because he doesn’t do that. Taako would never.

“Fine. Don’t answer me.” Lup actually leaves this time, Taako pretends he can’t hear Barry telling her about Kravitz and his newfound love of coffee and baked goods.

Taako [10:23] Yo stud got a minute to chat?

It was only polite to text first, he doesn’t want to jumpscare Kravitz with a phone call, he isn’t a sadist. The three dots flashed up immediately. Thank fuck he’s awake at the crack of dawn.

Bones [10:24] Dear Taako, Of course, I’ve always got time for you. All best, Kravitz.

Taako has been trying hard not to find his ridiculous dork texts endearing. He’s failing. Badly. He ignores the squooshy feeling it gives him and hits the call button instead.

“Hello Taako, it’s lovely to hear from you!” Says Kravitz like he actually means it.

“Hey Krav, quiiiiiick q for ya. What’re you doing this morning?”

“I’m just practising.” Of course he is. Why wouldn’t Kravitz be sat straddling his giant instrument right now? Taako’s mature though, he won’t make a joke about it.

“Can’t keep your hands off your instrument, shameful!” Fuck.

“Well, someone has to keep it in tune.”

Gods, he wasn’t supposed to play along. Why did he keep flirting back? Was this whole thing actually plausible?

“Wanna spend some time with Taako instead?”

“I’d be very interested in that.” Kravitz says, buttery and glorious.

“How do you feel about inflatables?”

There’s a long pause.

“It’s not a sex thing.” Taako says, to make it less weird.

“I’m not sure that makes what you said less weird, Taako.”

“You know, like bouncy castles.”

“Okay.” Kravitz doesn’t sound particularly convinced.

“And my sister will be there.”

There’s another pause. “...And Barry?”

“Obviously.”

“Uh huh.”

Fuck, Taako’s losing him, and it’s suddenly incredibly important that Kravitz not only agree to this, but is also enthusiastic about it. “It’s a competition.” Says Taako.

“Oh?” Of course that piqued his interest, Kravitz loves competition. He tries to help harder than any other customer, tip better than anyone else, and he races people in the street.

“We lost last year, but we’ve been in training.”

“You’ve been in bouncy castle training?”

“Obstacle course training… and also trampolines.”

“Is that what the weird squeaking is when we’re on the phone sometimes?”

“What?”

“You know, the calls where you’re all breathy and there’s the squeaking noise.”

Taako didn’t realise Kravitz had picked up on that. “You didn’t think…?”

“Well now I know it’s not a sex thing.”

“You thought it was a sex thing and you stayed on the phone?”

“I don’t judge.”

“You didn’t wanna ask Taako what he was up to?”

“I know you’re a private person.”

“Not if you think Taako’s doing sex things on the phone without your consent. In fact, that’s the least private a person can be.”

“You make a compelling point.”

Taako doesn’t even begin to know what to do with that. “So… bouncing?”

“Where is it?”

“We can pick you up.”

“All three of you?”

“Barry said he’s sorry and he’ll stop asking about the ‘secret sauce.’”

“I just really don’t think it’s a respectful way to talk about embalming fluid.”

Taako thinks it’s a great way to refer to embalming fluid, but he also wants Kravitz to be happy. “He double pinky promised.”

“Oh, well if he double pinky promised.”

“Great! Pick you up in 20, wear something snazzy.”

Taako hangs up the phone before Kravitz can object or ask anything else. He has limited time and an outfit to re-plan.

#taznc #taz november celebration #Taakitz #Background Blupjeans #Taako #Kravitz #Lup #Barry Bluejeans #TAZ Balance #TAZ Spoilers #TAZ fic #Noodyl Writes #Mild references to sex #Are these getting more unhinged? No. We've been like this from the start

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tourist-gengar · 2 months ago

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“Hey guys, Zak and Pixie here! Cali told us that today is Jim Henson’s birthday, and while we were on our trip to New York, we visited this museum that had an exhibit all about his work! So here’s some of the pictures Cali took. They don’t have us in them, but we figured you all would enjoy them anyway!”

The Jim Henson Exhibition at the Museum of the Moving Image (@movingimagenyc ) was one of the things I was most excited for during our trip; I was already a fan of Sesame Street and the Muppets as a kid, and I even came to love some of Jim Henson’s earlier work like the commercials for Wilkins Coffee (seriously, look the Wilkins Coffee commercials up, they are hilarious, sometimes unhinged, and I love them), and the cult classic Labyrinth as I grew up.

The exhibit itself was incredible, there were even a few hands on activities like a booth where you get to puppeteer the way Muppeteers do, and building your own Muppet (note: the Muppet torso is connected to a table, so no, you don’t get to take it home). Unfortunately the playback on my sister and I’s attempt at puppeteering played back at like 2 frames a second instead of smoothly like the live feed we were watching while performing.

It was so interesting to see concept art of some of the characters they had on display (and some they didn’t), they even had little video screens to show you what the characters looked like in action.

Of course there were large sections dedicated to his most notable works, Sesame Street and the Muppet Show, there was some Fraggle Rock too, but I’m not as familiar with it (will definitely try finding episodes somewhere, though).

And I was quite happy to see Sarah and Jareth’s outfits on display. Maybe someday I can go to the museum that has their masquerade ball costumes.

“Oh yes, please! More trips to plan for! Oh! Sorry! I’ll go now.”

You’re fine Zak. Now, where was I? Ah, yes.

They had this beautiful version of Miss Piggy from The Muppets Take Manhattan, as well as concept art and magazine covers.

I have a few more pictures from the Museum of the Moving Image, but seeing as tumblr will only let me post 10 images per post, I will leave you with this picture of Kermit the Frog, sitting beside Jim Henson’s headset.

Happy birthday, Mr. Henson. I hope wherever you are, you know just how much joy you brought into the world.

#zak the gengar #tourist gengar #gengar #pokemon #pokémon #pokémon plush #pixie the mimikyu #new york #new york city #museum of the moving image #museum of the moving image New York #the Jim Henson exhibition #jim henson #sesame street #the muppets #labyrinth

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canirove · 4 months ago

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Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 7

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Olga, do I really have to go with you? I want to go home, I'm shattered.”

“It'll be just a minute. I'll check if I left my wallet in the kitchen and then we can go” she says. “And stop complaining, Liv. You are turning 25 tomorrow, not 80.”

“Feels like it” I sigh. Because today has been chaotic.

There was a double training session and some meetings going on, which means that I've spent most part of my day making coffees for everyone, going up and down the stairs to deliver them to the offices, and taking meal orders since one of the waiters called in sick and Olga needed help. And as if that wasn't enough, since the game at the Emirates I've been sleeping like shit, constantly having nightmares where my dad finds out about me and Declan and kills him. Literally. In last night's dream he used an axe to do it.

“I promise I'll be quick” Olga says, opening the cafeteria’s door.

“You better” I reply, following her.

“Happy birthday!” everyone screams as I walk in.

“Bloody hell!” I yell, my heart on my throat. “What the fuck?”

“Language, Olivia” Madders says. “This is a birthday party!”

“A what?”

“Surprise!” Olga says while hugging me.

“You… you… what?”

“I know your dad said that you don't like celebrating your birthdays, but you only turn a quarter of a century once!”

“Wow, those are some big words for you, Maddison” I laugh.

“So funny, Liv” he replies, rolling his eyes. “Everyone is dying to wish you happy birthday, you know? Sonny made you a card, and I think a certain Spaniard even got you a present…”

“You all seriously need to stop with that.”

“I was talking about Bryan, Liv” Madders smirks.

“You… Idiot” I say, hitting him in the arm.

“It's not my fault Spanish dudes love you!” he laughs. “Though you prefer them half Irish, don't you?”

“Shut up!”

“Half Irish? What did I miss here?” Olga asks.

“Nothing. James is talking shit as always.”

“Yes, I am” he laughs again. “Anyway, are you coming or not? I can't wait to try the cake. Alex told me it is your favourite, and knowing how obsessed you are with anything with chocolate, I'm sure it'll be amazing.”

“Wait, Alex is here too?” I ask.

“Yep.”

For the past few weeks he's been behaving super weird around me, basically ignoring me, and I still don't know why.

We've known each other our whole lives since my dad and his are best friends and we live close by, and even though we've had our ups and downs (especially because of my dating life and him not liking any guy I did), he had never been like this.

“C'mon, Liv. Let's go say hello to your guests” Olga says, linking her arm with mine and walking towards where everyone is.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Happy birthday, dear Olivia… Happy birthday to you!”

“Don't forget about making a wish!” my mum says.

“Done” I smile.

For my actual birthday I'm having a small gathering with my parents, Alex's and him, the usual every year. After partying way past midnight with everyone at work, it is what I needed. Something chill and at home where I can wear my pyjamas, have crazy hair, and where no one will give me a weird look. Though this year my mum forced me to actually look nice since it is a special number.

“I can't believe my baby is 25 already” she says while hugging me. Or while squeezing me against her. “Where has time gone?”

“She was a tiny loud baby not that long ago, and now look at her. My darling is a beautiful, intelligent and wonderful woman I'm very proud of” my dad says.

“Oh, stop it” I say, trying not to get emotional.

“Should we start with the presents before everyone starts crying?” Alex's mum chuckles.

“I told you I didn't need anything, guys.”

“This is just a little detail” she smiles.

After opening a few more presents, it's time for my dad to give me his.

“I'm a bit nervous about this” he laughs, giving me a small box. “Hope you like it, darling.”

“Thank you” I say, slowly opening it. Inside it there is a car key, one that obviously has a Tottenham keychain. And under it, there is a note. “Look out the window? What does it mean?”

“It means exactly that. Look out the window” my dad says, nodding towards the big one in our living room.

“Ok…” I say, walking towards it. And then, I see it. It can't be. “Dad, is that… Oh my God, is that a Mini?”

“It is, darling. Your Mini.”

“What?”

“It's yours, Olivia” my mum says.

“But I… you… how?” I mumble, looking from the car to the key in my hand.

“You've always been obsessed with that car for some reason. So much, that when you got your driving licence, I bought you a small replica of it” my dad says.

“You did, yes” I chuckle. “I still have it in my room.”

“Do you remember what I told you when I gave it to you?”

“That one day… Oh, dad!” I say, running towards him and hugging him.

“I told you that one day I would buy you the real one, not just a toy. And that day has come” he says, hugging me back. “It isn't new, we couldn't afford it. But it is better than that thing from the Pleistocene you were driving.”

“It is perfect. The Mini, I mean” I say, moving to look at him. “It seriously is. I love you so much, dad. You too, mum.”

“Oh, Olivia” she says, joining our hug.

“Did you film all that?” I hear Alex's dad say.

“I did” he replies.

“I probably look so stupid” I laugh.

“You look beautiful, Liv” Alex says. And that was… odd. But whatever.

“Why don't you kids take the car for a spin?” my dad suggests.

“Now? What about the cake?”

“You and your cakes, Olivia” my mum replies, rolling her eyes. “It will be here when you come back. Just be careful, ok?”

“Ok” I smile. “Thank you. Again” I say, giving my parents another hug. “I love you.”

“And we love you too. Now go, darling” my dad says.

“And Alex, don't let her go too fast.”

“I won't, Mrs. Chapman” he chuckles.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv, what did your mum say?”

“Shhh” I reply, speeding up a bit more.

“If you crash your car on the first day…” Alex laughs.

“That won't happen. I'm gonna take care of him as if he was my son.”

“Is it a boy?”

“It is a boy” I smile. “The most beautiful one.”

“You'll have to give him a name, then.”

“Urgh, I suck at choosing boys names.”

“Is that why all your pets growing up were girls even if they actually weren't?”

“Yep.”

“Then you better not have a son in the future” he laughs again.

“Yeah” I smile. “I've missed hearing you laugh. Are you ok?” I ask him, slowing down now that we are back in our neighborhood.

“Uh?”

“You've been avoiding me, Alex.”

“No, I just… I've had a lot going on and to like… Organise my feelings and thoughts.”

“Oh, I see. But is everything ok?”

“Yeah, don't worry. Park over there, I want to give you my present.”

“Ok” I say, doing as he has asked me.

“So… ummm… Liv” Alex says, nervously playing with the small box in his hands. “There is something I have to tell you.”

“I'm all ears.”

“I… You… We…”

“C'mon, Alex” I say, playfully hitting his arm. “It's me.”

“Yeah, I know. That's why saying this is so difficult. Because it's you.”

“I don't understand.” Why does he look so nervous? I think the last time I saw him like this was when he dared to ask out the hottest girl in our class and she… No. No, no, no, no. He isn't going to…

“I love you, Liv.”

He is. Oh, my God, he is doing it.

“And not like the way you love your dad or a friend. I love you like something else.”

“Alex, I…”

“When I told you that I was trying to like organise my feelings and thoughts, I was talking about you. About what I feel for you. Because I… because I've realized that I've always been in love with you, Liv. That if I've been a prick and disliked all the boys you've dated or been around, it's because I was jealous. Because I wanted to be them. Because I love you.”

“Alex, listen…”

“This is for you” he says, opening the little box and showing me what is inside. A ring. He got me a freaking ring, and one that doesn't look cheap.

“I can't accept it.”

“It is just a birthday gift, Liv. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” I laugh. “You just told me that you love me and now are giving me a ring, Alex. This totally looks like some kind of proposal.”

“Well, if you think about it like that… Then yes. It is a proposal. Liv, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

This can't be real. This has to be another of my nightmares. They all start the same, with something really good happening, and then boom! The killing starts.

“Alex… I… No.”

Have you seen that episode of "The Simpsons" where Lisa is dating Ralph, she breaks up with him while being live on tv, and when they are watching it again Bart says something like, look, if you slow it down you can see the exact moment where you break his heart? Well, that is happening right in front of me.

“I'm very sorry, Alex. But I don't love you. I just like you as a friend.”

Wow, Olivia. Wow. You just delivered the most cliché line ever.

“I see…” he says, closing the small box and putting it back in his pocket.

“I'm sorry.”

“I heard you the first time, Liv.”

“Ok, umm… I should drive us back home.”

“Is there someone else?”

“What?”

“Are you seeing someone?”

“Maybe...” I say, biting my lower lip.

“Is it the Spanish guy? The one everyone keeps talking about at work.”

“Who, Pedro?”

“Yeah, him.”

“He isn't anyone from work or related to it.” Which is a lie, but it is best if he doesn't know.

“Oh, ok.” And those are the last words he says to me for the rest of the day.

#declan rice #declan rice fanfic #declan rice x reader #declan rice imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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screampied · 2 months ago

Note

HIIIIIIIIIII, omg so cute that u missed me cause i missed you too ☹️☹️

OMG TOJI IS THE BIGGEST CONDOM HATER AND HE HATES TO PULL OUT, MF IS MAKING KIDS LEFT AND RIGHT (the money i would pay to be one of his baby mommas is as large as his cock).

nanami starts so sweet, he is the type to say some stuff that makes your dizzy mind go “he didn’t”. i can see him always being respectful saying “you feel so good, baby” and then he finds out that whenever he swears his partner likes it, so he starts taking his chance, and a few weeks later he sweetly calls her his pretty slut. ITS ME, IM HER!!!!

i— vegas i am the biggest suguru simp ever, i would be a member of his cult, i swear to you i could worship him better than others, my mouth would make him forget i am just a dumb human. HE ALSO HAS THE VIBE OF MOCKING YOU WHILE SMILING WITH HIS EYES CLOSED LIKE OMG

so, uh, i have a humiliation kink or something…

i don’t think peach ice tea tastes like peach, but it’s sweet and good, and it makes me very happy to drink it. however, i have no control over it, so others need to pour for me and tell me to stop, because i will keep going until it all comes back up (it happened)

toe rings are perfect for me, who is always wearing sandals, so it gives that lil fancy look instead of just casual. OMG BRACELETS ARE EVERYTHING, i used to keep eyeing them on pinterest all the time and i got a silver one for my 20 birthday, i love to talk and hit it on the table, is so soothing.

btw, there’s a famous character from a tv show from my country that she is know for her many bracelets, and she was very feisty and expressive so they crinkled a lot, is really nice to be wearing it and people go “are you [character]?” DAMN RIGHT I AM.

WAIT HOLLUP YOU SHIFTED?? THATS LIKE SO COOL, me and my anxious mind could never

answering your question, on october first i’ll show myself after i finish my halloween theme and we still will interact because i love to send ask, except they won’t be anon but it will be our secret that i was nut anon. and yes, let’s be moots!!! this whole thing started because high me told ya i would bust a nut if we became moots.

i also said if you followed me before halloween i would show myself, which reminds me, you followed me on your second account, does that count? its been like two or three weeks and i kept quiet 🙂 cause i got scared 🙂

anyways question for today is house or apartment? barbie or bratz?

nut anon.

NUUUUTTYYYY 🧘‍♀️

YEAAAJHH ☝🏽☝🏽. he’s so annoying, he’s literally the guy who’s like “no condoms fit me,” and just loves going in raw. ur reaaaal i'd love to be his baby mama, that's my man. to me toji isn’t a deadbeat he’s a living / caring father & husband !

nanami 😕😕😕. i want him so bad he’s so husband. i rmbr having such a huge nanami brain rot out of nowhereeee and i would write ab him nonstop. i always think ab virgin!nanami n how he can never last once he goes inside pussy for the first time ARUGHHHH. nanami and degradation yummmmm …. twin with the humiliation kink 🧘‍♀️ that'll be in my cult leader geto fic

YESSSSSS i shift sometimes 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. it's funnn but a lot of ppl think it's fake, i think it all dependssss. you should try it it’s so cool, especially if you’re a deep sleeper bc it kills time me thinkssss

ooooh okay !!! YAAAAAY NEW MOOTS. ofc it’ll be our secret 🫂🫂. help i followed u on my second account rly ….. bye i still have no clue who you could be tho omg. IM CURIOUUSSSS. have i sent you an ask before eerrrm. DONT BE SCAREDDD.

hmmmm house and bratz !!!! 🧘‍♀️

#✰ミ݁ ׅ ࣪ 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆.#nut anon #🧁

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www-jungwon · 1 year ago

Text

a frappuccino addict's guide to love

synopsis : jungwon is the cute regular at the cafe you work at. you wonder what he’s always typing about on his computer.

tw: mentions of drinks, swearing, yelling (in surprise)

wc: ~1k

notes: this is all over the place lol

–

It’s unfairly distracting, the way Jungwon sips his coffee. His fingers are way too pretty for you not to stare as he lifts the coffee cup, and his lips look so soft–

“No crushing on the customers!” Eunchae teases, and you snap out of your mildly creepy trance to glare at her.

She just laughs, and when you turn to look back, Jungwon is typing away on his computer like he always does. He smiles, suddenly, leaning back into the same wooden chair he always sits in–

Eunchae fake-coughs super loudly, and you turn around, exasperated.

“No one’s even he–” you trail off, making eye contact with a grumpy-looking woman standing in front of the counter.

You shuffle over to the cash register.

“Sorry about that. What can I get for you today?”

—

“Maybe he’s sick?” Eunchae suggests.

You both stare at the frappuccino, sitting untouched on the counter.

You look out at the night through the glass cafe doors.

“But he’s a Hot Coffee Shop Guy. Those aren’t supposed to get sick.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Eunchae mumbles.

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You’re probably right. He’s probably just sick or something.” You take the frappuccino and sip it.

Eunchae rolls her eyes. “You switch up so fast sometimes.”

But what she doesn’t know is that you’re smiling because you’re thinking about him, butterflies rushing around in your stomach.

—

If he is sick, it must be serious, because he’s been gone for 2 weeks. He hadn’t missed a day of your shift for 8 months, and now nothing.

“I hope everything’s okay,” you mutter to Eunchae.

“Mhm,” she says, too engrossed in her book to listen to you.

You grab the book and tug it out of her hands.

“I’m serious! I’m kind of worried about him. What are you reading that’s so important, anyway?”

She finally looks up. “Oh my god! It’s so good, it’s about this girl who’s a barista, and she writes her number on this hot customer’s coffee cup, oh yeah, he’s like a regular, and she has a crush on him, but anyway, one day she writes her number on the cup that she gives him and, well,” she trails off a bit, “that’s how far I’ve gotten.”

You scoff. “That sounds so cliche.”

“It is! But, it’s like, good cliche, you know? Like a kdrama.” You look at the cover.

#1 New York Times Bestseller

a frappuccino addict’s guide to love

by Yang Ju-

“I have to know what happens next.” Eunchae pulls the book away from you.

“Hold on a second, Eunchae, what’s the author’s name?” You swear it looked familiar.

She sighs, dramatically closing the cover to look at it. “Yang Jungwon.” she states, eyebrows raised. “Now let me read my book in peace. We never get a lull in customers on Fridays.”

You freeze. That feeling of deja vu appears again. “Yang,” you pause, “Yang Jungwon?”

“Oh my god, yes, now will you please shut up?”

“Eunchae!” you yell. “That’s Hot Coffee Shop Guy’s name!”

There’s silence.

“No way…” she whispers. “Is that-”

“why he was always typing on his computer!” you both yell.

Eunchae whips out her phone, and her mouth drops open in shock. She turns her phone around so you can see, and there, on google, is Hot Coffee Shop Guy.

“He’s famous!” she exclaims.

Your first thought is that he looks really good. He looks so happy in his author photo, his smile making you smile.

And then you get sad, which feels stupid, because you only ever talked to him in a cafe while he was writing and you were working, but you miss him. You miss him because he would always smile at you when he came in, which may or may not have made you freak out internally, and sometimes he would leave little smiley faces on sticky notes with his tips. You miss him because sometimes he would sit at the counter and he would talk to you about his life, how it was his little sister’s birthday tomorrow, and how he had no idea what to get her (a book, maybe? Does she like to read?) You didn’t notice how he lit up when you mentioned books that day. You miss him because one time you were having a terrible day, and he told you everything was going to be okay, and then it was. You had a lot of terrible days, and he always made them better somehow. You miss him because he’s been in the cafe every day of your shift for a year, and his presence is comforting and familiar and reassuring. You miss him because you think maybe you were in love with him.

—

“One grande cappuccino, please.” Ordering is that same grumpy woman from the day you zoned out because you were staring at Jungwon.

Jungwon…

“Of course,” you start to pour cappuccino roast into the cup, and it isn’t until you’re putting the lid on that you realize you put frappuccino roast into the cup instead, and what you’ve actually made is a frappuccino. “Shit,” you mutter, placing the cup on the counter so you can make the right order, when you hear the door open and then shut and people yelling and you look up and it’s Jungwon, walking into the cafe with sunglasses on, but you can still tell it’s him. And he smiles at you and you melt.

“Yang Jungwon!” you hear, and then there are a lot more “Yang Jungwon!”s and “Oh my god, can I get your autograph?” and “I love your book so much!” and he’s in a crowd of people and you lose his eyes.

You stare at the frappuccino cup, and the Sharpie in your hand, and you turn it so you can write your number on it.

The crowd clears and he takes his coffee cup, leaving a tip with a smiley face on a sticky note. You accidentally brush it off the counter, and it flips over to reveal a note.

i missed you

-your favorite frappuccino addict

#jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon imagines #jungwon drabbles #enhypen #enhypen x reader #jungwon

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vivaladicamillo · 1 year ago

Text

CELEBRATING DUNNS BIRTHDAY W/ THE CKY CREW

js a little blurb for ryans birthday! crazy how he would be 46 today :((, i miss him a lot everyday but hey at least today dico finally posted on the internet again! but hope u enjoy this little blurb abt u being ryans friend/partner and celebrating his birthday with him :))

WARNINGS: alcohol, drugs, thats it.

———————————————————

ryan when it comes to birthdays is kinda complicated

hes absolutely fine with spending his whole birthday comfy in bed, listening to music and relaxing

bc as we all know the man hates people

but he also loves his friends

so having a day were they all js hang out, talk, tell stories and maybe even have a few drinks together like old times is also just as good

hes not super complicated or would want any type of crazy over the top birthday

u could give him a jar of dirt for his birthday and he’d be like “thanks i was looking to start a in house jar garden anyways”

so when u and bam had to come together to plan a party for his 28th birthday

IT WAS ONN

u knowing ryan very well knew he wouldnt wanna do any big things involving strangers so probably no clubs

as u and bam talked it out yall decided to wake him up early. take him to breakfast, drive up to the country side and go camping in a field

bam knew a guy who knew a guy who had a field they can use, it was actually the same field that would become “state of bam” in viva la bam

so u call up the guys (minus ryan bc u and bam wanted it to be a surprise) and tell them the plan

everyones was so hyped

rake was bringing music, bam was bringing booze, raab was bringing the gear, dico was entertainment (yes he brought a whole ass speaker and mic to sing ryan happy birthday with) and u were in charge of the food

for food, once again u knew ryan like it simple, js some pizzas, wings, sandwiches, yk things that u could easily have at hand, but u also brought some things to cook over the fire like chicken and steak bc ITS A CAMPING TRIP!

u also brought cake and smoores stuff!

the plan was perfect!

early the next morning, u and bam get to ryans house, its abt 8:00 in the morning

the two of u find his spare key and sneak in, making ur way towards the basement where his room is

you and bam had stopped at the dollor tree to get hats and balloons and noise makers

so as u two snuck closer to his bed bam got the camera out and u counted

“ 3…2…1…”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the two of u screamed and blew into the noise makers making ryan almost fly outta bed

“come on ry get dressed and oack a bag its gonna be a long day” you say

“…… how did u guys get into my house??” ryan says

you immediately point towards bam like a child getting rid of the blame on their sibling

after ry gets dressed and gets a small bag the three of u hop in the car and drive to the local ihop

“dont worry guys bills on me” bam says

“no way free ihop, thanks guys this is actually sick” ryan says not even being sarcastic

the three of yall sit down and get to talking, ryan ends up getting strawberry pancakes with a side of bacon bam gets some crazy fucking waffle that also has a face for some odd reason and u just get [whatever u want from ihop idk ur preference]

after breakfast and a lot of talking and story telling the three of u leave, with bam paying lol, and head to the final destination

ryan was fully convinced that u guys were hiring a hitman to take him out or something when bam started driving to the country side

it was always out of character for bam to PAY for something that didnt have to benefit him in some way

but u assured him from the backseat that nobody was gonna take him out

after a long ride of listening to rys fav bands you guys arrive and see raab and rake sitting on chairs around a fire pit while dico is up waving his arms around probably doing a skit to pass the time while waiting for u guys to arrive

“SURPRISE RYAN!” bam and u say

ryan was kinda in shock, growing up he lived in the country side (ohio) and used to go camping with his dad and brother a lot

“wow guys…i havent been camping since i was like ten, let alone with friends, thanks guys!” he gives the bpth of u a warm smile

the three of u meet with the rest of the group, all of them ready to give ryan their gifts

rake had gotten ryan these sick new glasses, the were similar to the ones he usually wears but in gold and black

raab got him a drawing of himself, painted from a guy he new and it looks sick, ryan was in shades of blue with a yellow background

dico got him a few graphic tees, some with just text on it (one saying mustang girl in glittery font) to shirts of his favorite bands

bam got ryan a bunch of cool mod decals for his cars, he also got him some things to mod his cars with, tools and such

and you got ryan 2 plane tickets to go to iceland, and a tour package thing to sight see and go to some new places the crew and him had never seen before, u told him he could pick anyone to go with him, from the crew, family, anyone it was his choice

he was so happy with all his gifts, they were all perfect but he liked urs the best, he ended up picking u to go on the trip with leaving bam to in the future by his own ticket so he could go with u (hes not missing a trip to iceland ofc)

after the gift opening the party begins

the night consisted drinking, dancing to music rake brought, telling jokes and stories, smoking a bit of weed and bran freestyling his heart out

it was a perfect night

the rest of the crew went to bed at 3:00am, dico being first then raab then rake then bam

u and ryan had stayed up still talking, watching the sky and reminiscing on early days

the two of u ended up falling asleep on a blanket in front of the first while star gazing

u had ur head on ryans shoulder as u was talking it made u fall asleep bc his voice was so calming

when he looked over u and were sleeping he wasnt mad

he pulled u closed and started to doze off himself

“thank you, so much, for the perfect birthday y/n.” he whispered as u slept

you really knew him well, he was so glad to have u in his life

the next morning the guys found the two of u put there, surrounded by red cups

but even tho u guys got woken up to the crew poking fun at u two

it didnt matter

because ryan was happy, his birthday went beautifully

and thats all that mattered to u

ryan being happy

—————————————

hope yall enjoyed the little drabble i decided to write out of nowhere. i promise u guys a pt 2 to the bams sister story will be coming soon, also a bam/reader/ryan will DEF be coming soon i js have been studying for finals week so ive been hella busy, with this story i tried my hardest to add some actual facts into it, like ryan living in ohio, the gifts he got, the things they did, etc,. sorry if its not exactly accurate i tried lol, see ya guys!

#AUGHHEJWJE I LOVE RYAN #hes so eepy #hes literally my bf #i love him so so so so much #i hope he did actually have a great birthday #him in zach prob celebrated 🥹#rip ryan dunn we miss u !#jackass #cky crew #cky x reader #cky4 #cky2k #ryan dunn #ryan dunn x reader #cky3 #cky clip #Spotify

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theemporium · 1 year ago

Note

Ok but lestappen birthday month is wild (this got way longer and angstier than I anticipated)

I believe that Charles is one to spoil Max rotten on his birthday, have a chat with you about letting Max have total no veto unless he’s hurting you control for the night and the mascara and the lip gloss absolutely make a reappearance and Max is in complete bliss

so Max knows he has a little over two weeks to top that and he’s planning all kinds of stuff with the idea of letting Charles be the dom for the night, from making a reservation at the most delicious restaurant in Monaco down to ordering a pair of red leather assless chaps for himself that he once saw Charles looking at for a moment too long

the one thing he forgets to factor into his plan is you, so focused as he is on making himself appealing to Charles, to the point that when you ask him if he’s already made birthday dinner reservations he says yes without even thinking about the fact that he’s got a table for two

so when you come home on Charles’s birthday after work with a big bouquet of flowers and a bottle of expensive champagne and those new Air Max 1s that were impossible to get AND the sweater from Loro Piana that was sold out everywhere, ready to bake a cake and then step into the lingerie you bought for today, and the apartment is deadly quiet, you know something’s up

meanwhile, the boys have had a lovely afternoon - Max convinced Charles to put both phones on airplane mode because he had already talked to his mom and brothers and had plans with his friends on a different day - and, though Charles thinks it odd that you’re not here for the walk on the beach and the romantic dinner, he figures that surely you two have a plan

and, yeah, it’s weird that you also don’t show up when Max takes him out dancing after dinner, but by that point he’s drunk already and everything is blue eyes and big hands and plush lips anyway

so when they get home, Max resumes his ministrations immediately, pushing Charles up against the door and telling him that from here on out he’s in charge and his green eyes go dark like the ocean as they wind through the apartment to the bedroom, right past the champagne and the presents and the cake with the melted down 26 numeral candles that are still sitting on the kitchen table, and he goes to push Max down onto the bed when he hears a little whimper on impact

his heart cracks when he sees you waking up from where you had curled up on the bed in the little red lace number that he could see your nipples right through and looking at him bleary-eyed to say “Charlie? I wanted to say happy birthday before it’s over, baby, did I miss it? Why weren’t you picking up the phone? Did you guys at least have some of the cake? I made your favorite”

Max is immediately scrambling to hold you, bracing himself for the impact of having fucked up catastrophically, turning his face back up to Charles to see the expression melding sadness and anger and guilt as you slip out of his arms and mumble something about sleeping in the guest room and how they were in Singapore for your birthday anyway and couldn’t get the times right so they didn’t even call on the day

and as he follows you out of the room, Charles mumbles “happy birthday to me, fuckin thanks, Maxie”

I—

oh my god??? ouch??? babe, why are being angsty today?????🤠

no but max would feel so fucking guilty and just😭😭😭😭😭😭NO THIS IS SO SAD!!! POOR READER!!!!

#cece answers #lestappen.thots

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chronicbeans · 2 years ago

Text

The Frostbiter (Original Story)

Oof not a Welcome Home story but this wouldn't leave my head. OwO I hope y'all enjoy anyways.

TW: Descriptions of Severe Frostbite, Mentions of Death

Looking around, I see nothing but snow coating the mountain. I hold my daughter close, her violent shaking telling me just how cold she feels. "It'll be alright, Amanda. We'll find the way down. Don't worry. Daddy will keep you safe. Just hang on." Her dark eyes look up to me, her voice but a soft, whispery quiver "Daddy, your nose is turning black... Dad...?" "Yes, Amanda?" "Are we gonna die?"

I don't want to lie, but I want to keep up hope. The most heartbreaking thought in my mind is seeing my sweet Amanda lose hope. I want to see her smile until the end. "We'll make it down, Amanda. There has to be some way back down the mountain. We hiked up here, after all. The snow has just covered the path. We'll make it down, one way or another." That won't be a lie, right? We can hike down if we figure out which way to go, and even if we don't, someone will come up to retrieve our bodies after this blizzard is over. We aren't too far up for them to do that, right? Amanda weakly nods, her eyes eyes looking around the area "It all looks white... Like a blanket. A cold, cold blanket. I miss my blanket."

I hold her closer, moving on. I can't figure out if I am walking further up the mountain, or if I am going down. I can only pray that it is down. The snow is so heavy, that I cannot see two feet in front of me. As it piles up, it becomes harder to move my legs through it to walk. The weather forecast must've lied. They said there would be sunny skies today. This was supposed to be a fun birthday for my baby girl. She always wanted to hike up the same mountain her mother did ten years ago and do what she couldn't: make it to the summit. Now look at her, bundled up, her skin turning white with frostbite... Just like her mother.

I keep hearing something up ahead that sounds like footsteps. I try to walk faster, shouting "Help! We need help! We can team up to find our way down!" Only for the other person to not respond. I walk faster, shouting louder "Please, I have a child with me! You have to help!"

I struggle onwards, hearing those footsteps. The crunch of the snow with each step I take seems like it is mocking me. It's all around me and my daughter, sucking the life out of us. I'm so cold, even with my multiple layers of coats, scarves, and pants. We both really bundled up for this trip. It all seems like it is in vain.

I can't feel my hands, or my feet, or my lower legs. The sensation ends just underneath my knees and after my wrists. I can't bend my fingers, either. I look down at Amanda, seeing her pale face looking up at me. A few strands of hair poke our from beneath her wool hat, her body curled against me for warmth. "It'll be okay, sweetie. Remember what I told you, okay? Don't take off anything that is meant to keep you warm. Especially if you suddenly feel warm. Let me know if that happens." She nods in responds "Okay dad."

After seemingly hours of agonizing trudging, I can't take it. I am exhausted, the stranger isn't listening, and I feel hopeless. The snow doesn't seem to end. It isn't stopping. It's so cold. I can't go on. I drop into the snow, making sure to turn so I land on my back, with Amanda on top of me. "Amanda... Dad needs a break. You can walk, right?" She gets up, her eyes contrasting the white snow around us, causing me to see every bit of fear in them. "Dad...? Dad, get up!" "I just need a break. Go see if you can get the guy up ahead to talk to you. Please... They can help." She grows, quiet, before looking around, then running after the stranger.

"Help! My daddy needs help! Please, help-!" My eyes, which almost closed from weakness, suddenly shoot open as I hear her scream. I use all of my energy to force myself up. I can't feel anything. I fear to look underneath my mittens, worrying that my fingers might be dead, alongside my feet. That doesn't matter, right now. I need to help my little angel. I trudge further, seeing two silhouettes in the distance.

My little Amanda is backing away from the stranger. They, seemingly, have no winter clothing on; just a white lab coat, dress pants, and what looks to be a watch. I can't see their face, but their hair is short and blonde. The stranger's fingers... they are completely black, before their still living tissue resumes, only to be white from frostbite. They sway slightly, before reaching their hand out to Amanda.

"Get away from her!" They turn their head over to me, causing me to flinch at the horrid sight of their face. Their nose, ears, lips... Even their cheeks by their cheekbones have turned black. The entirety of the skin on their face has turned as pale as the snow around us, as well as the frost that has accumulated on their eyebrows and in their hair. They open their mouth, which seems to have ice growing inside of it, around their teeth. "You are the one the little one was crying about? You look so warm..."

They move, their legs so stiff that their steps are more of a shuffle, towards me. Their voice, smooth and masculine, continues "I am Dr. Pierre Glasgow. I have been up here for years... I am so cold... My bones feel frozen to the marrow. You have to help me..." I back up, feeling uneasy. As much as I know this man's appearance isn't something he can control and that I might look very similar, myself, I can't bring myself to be near him. "What happened to you? My daughter, Amanda, and I were hiking. You look completely unprepared."

Dr. Glasgow reaches out to me, his hands frozen still, as he cries out "My team abandoned me! They told me it would be warm! I am so cold! I am so cold! Get close so you can help me! Close! Help!" I flinch, gently grabbing his wrist to avoid rubbing his dead tissue off, asking "I can help, just tell me what I-" He suddenly lunges, grabbing ahold of my neck with his teeth. The ice inside pierces my skin, causing my daughter to cry out in shock and horror.

Everything suddenly grows colder. Colder than I ever thought possible. I point my hand into the distance, choking out "Amanda, run!" "Dad, I'm so cold! I can't move my legs!" "You have to try!" She shuffles off, just as the man drops me. I watch as he suddenly moves his arms and legs, even his dead fingers, as if he were perfectly fine.

"So warm... warm joints... warm blood in me. Thank you. I guess I should take you someplace safe from the snow. There is a little cabin up ahead. I can keep you there, so you can keep me warm until you grow cold, like me."

I am too weak to do anything as Dr. Glasgow drags me through the snow. I have no words for what this "man" is... it is like a vampire, mixed with snow, or a zombie. I can only describe it as a frostbiter.

#my stories #my characters #my OCs

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nonexistent-introvert · 2 years ago

Text

Birthdays (paper stars 9)

Paring: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4K

Content: Joel’s birthday, Sarah and Joel’s dynamic. Swearing (Im not sure my brain isn’t working.)

A/N: I went for HSLOT recently and idt I’ve truly recovered. Anyways enjoy this long chapter that is more messy than anything bc I’m writing this at 1am to deal with the fact that it’s a weekday tmr.

Paper stars masterlist

Tommy wanted to bury himself six feet under. The atmosphere, the tension and the sullen looks on Joel and your faces made him incredibly uncomfortable. He had spent almost an entire week before he managed to convince you to hang out with him and Joel. He had spent the same week assuring Joel that he would help make things right between the both of you. Tommy could not keep up a conversation between the three of you, he could only have a single conversation with one person at a time while the other drifts off into space.

You were trying your best to mask your emotions. The various notifications from Joel still sat unread and unnoticed on your phone. Tommy could tell that you were trying your best to keep the mood up with smiles that never quite reached your eyes, polite smiles that you had given to everyone. Joel used another strategy to masked his emotions, he didn’t hide his true feelings behind smiles but simply a blank and unreadable look. Preferring to withdraw himself.

“I fucking give up. What the hell happened between the both of you. You guys have never been this distant with each other before.” Tommy snapped, folding his arms over his chest. SImilar to an adult trying to settle a disagreement between two children. Joel glanced at you, his eyes shining with vulnerability. You looked behind Tommy’s shoulder, shuffling your feet with a small smile on your face. “It’s nothing Tommy.”

“Nothing?” Tommy huffed, “I could have been catching up on sleep today but I decided that i would play peacemaker between the two of you and this is what i have to go through?” tommy complained. “I never asked you to play peacemaker.” Joel muttered. A comment that earned him a single cold glare from you to which he looked away after. “Well, I’m sorry then. I’m sorry for always sticking my big fat nose into your affairs Joel. I guess I would always be the younger brother trying to kiss his older brother’s ass to you.” Tommy spat. Joel was losing his patience, paired with the lack of sleep and constant worry from the past few days, it was an understatement to say Joel was losing it. “Yeah? I’m glad you realised-”

“Enough already.” You pushed Joel away from Tommy. “Fucking hell.” You ran your hands through your hair. “Yes, something happened between us but as you can see none of us here is ready to talk about anything.” You told Tommy calmly. Tommy clenched his jaw, sparing a glance to you before he closed his mouth again. Biting back any remarks he was going to make. He quickly hailed a cab, slamming the door before the driver drove away.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You shouted at him. Shaking your head in disappointment. Joel stood still, his eyes casted onto the floor. You pursed your lips, how much of him have just been a projection from your past? You turned your back when you heard his heavy footsteps. He held your arm with a firm grip. “Can we talk? Please.” He asked, his eyes boring into yours. You looked at him, contemplating an answer. He looked down, trying to find the right words. “You have been ignoring me and everything I did to reach out. Just listen to me this time and I’ll stop bothering you.” You didn’t miss the hurt look that flashed across his face when you wrung your hand out of his grip.

“What the hell was that to Tommy?” You asked, feeling unjust for your best friend. Tommy was trying to lift the mood, he didn’t deserve receiving those comments from Joel. “Fuck, I just- I just snapped at him. I’m sorry- I. Fuck I’m just a mess.” he laughed cruelly at himself. You leaned against a railing, inviting him to do so too. “Hey, just-calm down.” You comforted, Joel was sweating, his breaths was uneven. He already had enough health issues to worry about.

“I-. I meant to say that I’m sorry for standing you up. I didn’t mean to I swear. I just got carried away with the drinks.” “With another girl?” Joel’s eyes widened, did you see him? “You saw me?” You sighed, “I walked past the bar on my way back.” Your heart sunk, Joel had just confirmed your suspicions. “No, you got it all wrong. She’s Tommy’s girlfriend. I was with Tommy that day.” Joel let out a shaky breath, “Tommy asked me to go get drinks with him, he wanted me to meet his girlfriend. Her name is Maria.” You opened your mouth to ask for a further explanation. Then all the thinking you did for the past few days hit you, him drinking with another woman shouldn’t bother you. “I-I honestly don’t care that you’re drinking with others Joel. I was just upset that you stood me up without a further notice.” “I’m sorry, I know it doesn’t help but I just got carried away. It won’t happen again.” You turned away from him, a heavy question on your mind.

“Would there even be an ‘again’?” Joel tilted his head in confusion. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “What was that dinner even for Joel?” It was just another phrasing for the cliche question, “What are we?” He would notice if he knew how to read between the lines. Joel furrowed his eyebrows, the wrinkles making their presence known. He knew exactly what you meant, but the doubts that formed that day was present today again. “It’s just a simple dinner.” He replied. You nodded, chuckling lightly at his answer. It was all in your head all along. “I see.” You replied. “Thanks for clearing it up.” You smiled to him, a smile that seemed so distant.

“Are we… good?”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

Joel knew he gave you the wrong answer as he watched your figure retreat into the distance. He kicked the ground frustratingly. It was for your own good. He told himself.

=================================

It was anything but good. Everything changed after that. You stopped coming around for dinner, Joel stopped coming around at night. The only time you talk to Joel is when Sarah is around. You started keeping yourself busy with work and other friends. Joel focused on his business and Sarah. It was like you guys had started waking your own separate paths.

Tommy noticed of course. His relationship with Joel went through a rough patch after that day too. It eventually evened out, like all the rough patches he had with Joel. At first he thought that the both of you just never resolved whatever happened. However, Joel wasn’t his distracted self, he was in fact even more focused than before. You started smiling and laughing more carefree, grinning from ear to ear when he sees you around or through pictures of you on social media with your friends.

“We settled it.” Joel had told him but your absence in Joel’s life made him realize that even if it may be resolved, something big had happened.

“Uncle Tommy.” Sarah snapped Tommy out of his daze. Tommy tightened his grip around Sarah’s hand, leaning down to ask her what’s wrong. “Do you know what happened between Dad and -“ Tommy’s loud sigh cut her off. He didn’t need her to finish her sentence to know. Sarah had always been an observant kid. Tommy shrugged, “Been wondering the same thing too.”

“It’s just- it’s dad’s birthday in two days. I want all of us to celebrate it together with him but Dad and her seem weird around each other.” Sarah confessed. “Weird how?” Tommy opened the truck’s door for her. “Their conversations seems very forced and awkward now. But Dad still looks at her like a lost puppy. I caught him looking at her from our kitchen window.” Sarah laughed at how Joel insisted that he was just in a daze. Tommy chuckled, “If Joel hears that, he will be whining non stop about how he’s not.” Tommy buckled his seat belt, “Just do it. The only thing I know for sure is that they would do anything for you.”

================================

Tommy was right. You couldn’t decline Sarah’s invite no matter how much you wanted to. When she showed up at your door, a handmade invite to come for Joel’s birthday. You agreed immediately, not realising the consequences of your actions. You rubbed your face with your hands as you stood in the store, stressing over a gift for Joel. Joel is the person you had fallen for ever since you were young, from a crush to feelings. Then he disappeared for a few years but his presence was always there with you and now you stood in a store stressing over a birthday gift for him after he had snuffed out any hope that he had feelings for you. Even if you were still struggling to come to terms with that fact, you still had to suck it up and celebrate his birthday because you didn’t want to deal with Sarah’s disappointment.

“Are you looking for a gift for your lover?” Lover, you almost scoffed in reply. “No, he’s just a friend.” You told the older lady who had came up to you. She smiled, “Hmm, but he is not quite just a ‘friend’ is he?” You rubbed the back of your neck, were you that obvious, what if you were thinking out loud? You mentally cringed at the last thought. “Pardon me if I am overstepping.” the old woman apologised upon witnessing your silence. “Oh um, you’re sort of right. He’s an old friend but..” You admitted with a sheepish smile. She shook her head in amusement, “I recognise that look. We tend to have the worst dilemma when it comes to picking out presents for the people we love. Simply because we want it to be perfect for them.” She continued, admiring the various items on display. “I’ll give you a tip. I’m sure he’ll appreciate something that shows off more of you.” You gave the old lady a questioning look. She chuckled warmly, “I used to be the same as you, but one day I didn’t know what to get him so I simply wrote a card for him. My old man cried and up till now, he still keeps the letter tucked in his work desk. He says he reads it whenever despite how many times I told him to get rid of it. It’s embarrassing.” The old woman eyes crinkled as she thought of her husband, a look of adoration evident on her faace.

You pursed your lips, deep in thought before a look of realisation dawned upon you.

“Thanks! I think I know what to give him now.” You grinned, bowing a little to her.

The paper stars, you’ll suck everything up and just give it to him.

“We have enough of these trinkets home.” A voice interrupted the conversation you were having with the old woman. She smiled at the man who had came up to him, the very same look of adoration was given back to her despite how he had just complained and you knew immediately that this old man is the same man she had just mentioned. “I was just having a conversation with the lovely lady here.” She clarified. The old man eyes drifted to you to which you gave him a meek wave. His look changed, as though he recognised you. You brushed it off, smiling at the couple before you. “Oh dear, we got to go back. I have to cook dinner tonight.” The old woman reminded as she glanced at the watch on her husband’s wrist.

“Have a nice day.” the man bidded. “I wish you luck. You’re a lovely woman, I’m sure he will notice that soon enough.” The old woman said. You nodded as you waved to the old couple, envying them. Their body language, how they treated each other. You could tell from miles apart how deeply in love they were with each other.

“Darling, did you know who she was?” The old man questioned, the old woman shook her head. “No, she just reminded me of how I looked when I was younger and trying to pick a gift for you.” She admitted with a laugh. The old man stared, trying his best to recall where he had seen you. “Oh!” He exclaimed. Excitement shined in his eyes, “Remember Joel? I think she is the woman he was talking about then, with heart eyes.” The old woman face brightened up too, “Oh, the lady in the picture!” She said, thinking back of when she had questioned the photo he had kept in his wallet. The old man nodded enthusiastically. “Well, I really do hope that she’s referring to him then.” the old woman sighed before retelling the conversation to him. He grinned, “It probably is him. His birthday is tomorrow.” The old woman smiled, “I hope everything goes well.” The old man nodded, thinking back on the boy who had came up to him and pleaded for a job back then. “I wonder how he’s doing. He was of great help. A quick learner and a great man. I think he helped attract a few more customers with his looks too.” The man laughed which earned a slap from the woman. “We ought to have him over for dinner someday.” The man nodded in agreement. “Maybe he’ll bring her along too.” She giggled

==================================

“Happy birthday Joel.” the words repeated in your mind. A constant reminder in case you panic and end up a stumbling mess in front of him when he opens the door. You were late, you tried your best but it just had to be today that you had difficulty getting away from work. The door swung open and you blurted the word ‘happy’ before Sarah’s face greeted you instead. “Dad’s late.” she told you, disappointment evident in her voice.

You walked in, pressing on your phone. “I’ll pester Tommy.”

Tommy picked up, “Hey,Thought you were Sarah.” He greeted. “Are you with Joel?” “Mhm yeah, man would not get out of his office. I tried multiple times but he’s stubborn.” Tommy complained from the safety of his own office. “What is he doing?” You questioned. “We got a big customer recently, its a make or break one. Joel is giving it his best plus he has been pretty focused on work these past weeks too.” Tommy said. You sighed, “I bet he forgot that it was his birthday.” He always did, he was never one for birthdays. Tommy stretched from his seat, “Yeah. How’s Sarah? It’s pretty late.” Tommy glanced at the clock. “Disappointed, I was late too.” You told him. He sighed, “I’m trying my best.” You nodded, reassuring tommy before hanging up.

“He’s swamped with work isn’t he?” Sarah asked, you sighed, noticing the disappointed look on her face. “Yeah. Are you tired?” you sat down next to her as she flipped through the channels on the TV. “Kinda. But I’m fine.” “Sleep first then. I’ll wake you up when he’s back.” You suggested. “No, I’ll last.” She insisted, her eyes fell to the box beside her. “That’s the watch?” You asked excitedly, trying to avert her thoughts away from the disappointment. She handed it to you, “Do you think he’ll like it?” You smiled looking at it. It was a pretty ordinary watch except for the green strap. The green that reminded you of Joel. “Maybe he will actually start being on time for things now.” Sarah laughed. “You have a good eye.” You complimented, gently placing the box back onto the table. Sarah groaned as she stared at the clock again, you listened to her complain about Joel but you know that despite her complaining, she knows deep down that Joel was doing this all for her. “What did you get for him?” She asked. You handed her the large jar of paper stars you had brought him. “Paper stars?” She questioned. “Yeah, it’s stupid I know.” She grinned, “No I didn’t mean it that way. Just asking if there is a hidden meaning.” She asked,. You stared at Sarah, only just realising that she had the same brown eyes he had. “Hmm, it’s a stupid meaning too.” She stopped boucning around, stared at you and gave you her fullest attention.

“I liked him when I was younger but I thought it was a crush. I figured that everytime he did something that made my heart flutter I’ll fold a paper star for him. When one day it fills up, I’ll confess. If it doesn’t then it would just be a crush.” You simply explained. Her eyes lit up. “You like Dad!” She exclaimed in excitement. You blushed, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny it. “But you never told him?” She questioned, admiring the paper stars that you had so pain painstakingly folded. “I moved away before I could.” You told her, deciding to leave out the part that he had also just gotten together with her mother.

“So are you going to confess to him today?” Sarah asked, “Cause I would definitely accept if I was him.” She added on. You shook your head, “It will just ruin his birthday and my day.” Sarah frowned, “Your dad, he-he doesn’t see me that way. Never did it seems like.” Sarah hugged you, catching you off guard. “I honestly doubt that.” She muttered. You smiled, her hug was consoling you. You hoped that she was right too.

==================================

Sarah was lying on your lap fast asleep. Your legs were becoming numb but you still stayed still. The sound of keys made you quickly nudge Sarah awake. “I think he’s back.” You muttered. She rubbed her eyes groggily before she processed what you told her. Sarah sat up, you could tell that it was taking all her control not to open the door for him. The moment Joel;s figure peeked out from the door, Sarah tackled her father. You heard Joel chuckled heartily.

“Happy birthday Dad!” She exclaimed, long forgotten that she was disappointed a few hours ago when she realised Joel was late. “Can’t join in. Only managed to get him home by doing the remaining work for him. Enjoy.” Tommy messaged. You typed out a quick reply before looking back at the door. Joel had picked Sarah up, you quickly helped him with the door as he placed his suitcase by the wall and removed his shoes. Sarah’s excited words and Joel’s calming voice fading into the background as your heart pounded in your chest. Why were you nervous?

“Hey.” He smiled to you, you nodded meekly. Even in the dark, his smile seemed to glow, it seemed brighter than usual today. “You guys were just sitting in the dark?” He laughed, using one hand to flick the lights on. “How else were we supposed to surprise you? Plus it saves us electricity.”

You didn’t miss how the smile on Joel’s face falter. He didn’t want Sarah to worry about the bills at home. “Happy birthday Joel.” He grinned at you, his eyes becoming small as he smiled so widely as he put Sarah down. “Sit down!” Sarah led him to the couch. He placed his arm over the cushion and directly behind you. You stiffened slightly at the contact. He casted a worried glance towards you, cautious to not overstep boundaries but you leaned back anyways. Your body slowly relaxing in his touch. Sarah thrusted the box to Joel, his gaze narrowed at her. “What’s this?” “Just open it” you laughed.

Joel eyes widened at the sight of the watch. “Well you keep complaining about your watch.” Sarah started, eyeing Joel carefully for his reaction. Joel plucked the watch out from its box delicately and put it on. A proud grin spread across his features as he stared at the watch, it suited him well. “You like it?” Joel hummed. “Honey, it’s nice but-“ “What?” The panic in Sarah’s voice was evident. You looked at the watch, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Joel. He glanced at you with a mischievous look. He tapped on the watch, “I think it’s stuck.” Sarah grabbed his arm over, glancing at the watch. “No, no.” She rolled her eyes at Joel’s antics “oh haha.” She replied sarcastically, shoving Joel’s hand away. “You’re so annoying.” You remarked. He simply laughed. “Where did you even get the money for this?” “Drugs. I sell cold hard drugs.” Sarah laughed, snuggling to your side. Joel admired the watch further. “Great. You can start helping out on the mortgage then.”

You gently sat up, “Where are you going?” Sarah asked. “I’ll take a picture of the both of you.” You smiled. It was simple, no cake, not even dinner. Joel probably loved this, a tiny feeling made you feel like you were interrupting a private moment. “No. You haven’t even gave Dad your gift.” Joel raised his eyebrows in surprise, you wanted to scoff at his response. Sure you were a bad giver but he expected nothing? You pursed your lips, your jar of paper stars felt silly after a watch. It was as though your gifts had been swapped.

“This is stupid but here.” Joel looked confused by the jar of paper stars. Then it occured to him that it was the same jar from that day when you chased him out of your house. The very same that he fumbled with. “It’s not stupid.” Sarah defended, she wished you had more confidence in yourself. “So that was what-“ “No, kinda. Long story.” You clarified. “I ruined your surprise didn’t I?” Joel asked, his eyes boring into yours. “No. It’s just-“ you wished you had a way with words. Joel would have made a teasing remark about how you should have kept the surprise better but he was smart enough to realize maybe now was not the time.

A silence fell between you two. A silence that made everyone uncomfortable. Sarah was panicking inside. “What would uncle Tommy do?” She wondered in her head, only he will be able to break the ice. “Let’s take the picture.” She suggested instead. “I’ll take it.” You offered but Sarah dragged you down. “Join the photo.” Joel suggested. You looked at Sarah who nodded enthusiastically.

Sarah sat on Joel’s left after hitting the timer while you were on his right. His arm was behind you while he pulled Sarah tighter. His hand hung over Sarah’s shoulder, the watch she had bought him in full display. The jar of paper stars were balanced between your lap and his. Sarah posed with a peace sign and Joel pulled you closer, earning a grin from you.

The photo soon joined the frames of photos that was decorated around Joel’s house.

============================

The paper stars now stood on Joel’s nightstand. He had glanced at it, wondering what was the significance behind the paper stars. You were never one to buy just random gifts, plus you had it for months. There was definitely some kind of sentimental value. He sat down on the bed and pried off the lid. Staring and gently shaking the jar as he watched the stars move around. There must be a memory, maybe from childhood? He cursed his ageing memory.

He flicked on the lamp on his nightstand. His arm accidentally brushing the lid off to the floor. He sighed, picking the lid up. His eyes widened in surprise. There was a letter on the floor, he stared back at the lid. It had been taped onto the underside of the lid before.

He leaned against his pillow, staring at the letter that was titled to him. He admired the handwriting of his name, wondering when you had written this.

“Dear Joel, you’ll never read this but-“

Joel’s eyes drifted close before he even finished the sentence. Exhaustion catching up with him.

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