#bc i noticed when i left school that growing up in a place without writers gave me a skewed idea of my skills

[lesamis]

.

[ickle-ronniekins]

duet | see you soon then

DUET MASTERLIST

NOTE FOR ALL READERS: this is an installment of a series. the masterlist for a catch-up is linked above. this particular chapter is to fall between [im]mature and silky smooth. thanks!

desc: things had been a bit rocky when the twins told you they were leaving hogwarts before graduation. you’d been so hellbent and obsessed on spending time with george that you’d sort of neglected fred. emotions are running high, but the three of you fall into a comfortable routine and suddenly you’re bursting at the seams with happiness. but since it’s finally time for them to leave, you have absolutely no luck in trying to suppress your tears. they’re making their dreams come true, so why is it so damn hard to say goodbye right now?

a/n: yo! sorry its been a while. school has been kicking my ass and also I genuinely had no inspiration to write this chapter. it was actually supposed to look a little different which is what I think was evidently holding me back. but leeann’s the best and has been incredibly patient with me as I worked through my writer’s block and we bounced ideas off of one another. i..... am so sorry for this. full masterlist is linked above, loves.

word count: 3.4k

warning(s): just sadness bc boys are leaving :(

Things had been… tense, to say the least. Your arguments with both of your best mates had caused quite a bit of discomfort between you all. And not to mention that the Easter holidays were rapidly approaching, which only seemed to speed up the pounding in your chest.

You’d been making progress, though, coming around to the idea of finishing school without them. What an incredible opportunity this was for them, wasn’t it? While your feelings of dread and sadness were still very much prominent, you couldn’t help but be bursting at the seams with pride, too.

They were damn brilliant individuals and it was about time more people recognized that, right?

It still didn’t lessen the pain in your heart, though. It only seemed to elevate it. But you supposed, you’d only learn to grow from it.

The three of you had fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine. Spending lots of time with one another -- you’d also been very conscious about how much time you spent chasing after George. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself any further than you already had. Plus, you’d sadly forgotten how lovely it was to be with just Fred -- he was your absolute best mate, after all, and while yes, there had been times when the two of you had very angrily bumped heads, it only made your friendship that much stronger. You owed it to him. You owed it to yourself.

And you’d taken to spending more time with the Gryffindors too, when that ghastly toad look-a-like of a woman wasn’t around. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her. They were your friends, too, after all -- Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville -- the lot of them. And by the light of the common room fire reflecting in Fred’s eyes, and the very bright grin George had painted onto his face nearly every evening, you were pretty certain they were genuinely happy to have you there.

“What’s this one?”

“Ah -- an extension of our latest and greatest inventions, Y/N,” Fred beamed, examining his own creation as he twirled it in his fingers, “Wildfire Whizbangs.”

“You mean you’ve created something even bigger than those blasted fireworks you’d let loose in the courtyard a few weeks ago?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re about to set the bloody Great Hall on fire -- I’ve got exams coming up, you know.”

George laughed and pulled out yet another wildly vibrant colored whizbang from their trunk. “Can’t make any promises.”

You’d been spending so much time in their common room, in fact, that people had just ended up making you an honorary Gryffindor. You did miss yours, though -- the warmth hues of the yellow lining, the cozy armchairs near the fire with books next to it stacked so high they touched the ceiling, the tiny, potted plants on the windowsill. You were placed in Hufflepuff after all, so it was only normal that you’d miss the coziness of your own spot.

You couldn’t help it, though. You found yourself with your friends until the late hours of the evening, and sometimes you’d ever crash in the girls’ dormitory in Gryffindor tower because it was far too late to even attempt to sneak back down to your own common room, and the boys didn’t want you to risk getting into some type of trouble. Who’d have thought? The Kings of Mischief, worried about you getting into trouble. The irony was wonderfully funny.

You’d even found yourself working less and less on your assignments, just to spend time with them. It was, truthfully, the closest the three of you had been since you’d met. Absolutely nothing could squash your happiness.

Until you realized one evening when you were pulling on your silk pyjamas and thinking about how good things had been, that you had exactly one week left with them. One week. Seven days. Most of which would be spent studying for exams.

Some type of knot shot up into your throat and you found that your eyes had begun to water more so than normal. Sometimes, you couldn’t quite believe the effect this was having on you.

And so you swallowed down your feelings and forced yourself to sleep, hoping that the next day, you wouldn’t think about the limited time you had left with them before they fled school, but only about just how much you enjoyed your time with them.

-- -

“Please don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry, and I’m a bloody ugly crier.”

You knew that Fred was doing his best to make you laugh. He always had a particular knack for making you burst out into giggles at the most inappropriate of times. But even so, the mischievous glimmer in his eye and the lopsided grin on his face couldn’t make you laugh. Not this time.

You’d sort of distanced yourself this last week. Not purposefully, mind you, but because there was studying to be done. You had exams, didn’t you? And the boys needed to pack all of their belongings for their adventure into adulthood. It sounded so silly when you thought about it. But it also sent a soul-crushing feeling straight through your body.

You hated crying in front of them. Sure, you were a bit dramatic at times, but you tried your absolute hardest not to break down in front of them if you could help it. But this was different, you reckoned. This was them leaving with a permanence that could not be undone. This was goodbye… for now.

“I -- I’m just --” your voice sounded raspy and weak, like someone was gripping your vocal cords and strangling them. You watched through blurred vision as Fred’s lower lip began to wobble, and he bit down on it to keep you from noticing. But you noticed. Of course you did. How could you not? You knitted your brows together to keep the tears from falling, but your emotions were far too high for anything to work. You searched desperately for the words that were filling up your heart, though were proving very difficult to leave your lips. “I’m.. I’m really…”

And Fred, who found himself sometimes turning to mush around you, let his shoulders collapse as tears welled up in his eyes, too. He couldn’t believe they were really doing this -- really leaving. Hogwarts had been their home away from home for so many years, and you, the second sister he didn’t know he needed.

When he spoke, his voice didn’t have the usual cheeky sound to it, that mischievous tone you grew to know and love so much. It was soft, and tired, and pleading with you to please not be angry. You could hear it in the way that he said, “I know,” before pulling you into his chest. He interwove his fingers in your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead before sucking in a breath. You tugged gently on the drawstring hanging from his sweatshirt. It was hard to stay mad at either of them. You forced your eyes shut and bit down hard on your bottom lip, causing you to suck in another breath due to the pain. You felt your heart snap perfectly in half when you heard his voice shake a bit. “I’m really going to miss you, too.”

That was one of the most intimate moments you’d ever shared with Fred, letting each other cry into one another’s shoulders. The vulnerability hanging in the air between you both was so intense, it almost didn’t seem real. But as quickly as this new side of Fred had appeared, it vanished when he pulled away from you and held onto your shoulders to steady you. He sniffled a bit and tried to nonchalantly wipe away a tear from his eye. “But you’re coming to visit, yeah? First thing after graduation?”

“Of course,” you playfully swatted him with the sleeve of your robe. “Have got to make sure you two don’t find yourselves in any mischief, right?”

Fred threw his head back and laughed. “Great thing about our shop is that mischief is more than welcomed, darling.”

You both continued to laugh through tears, until everything became still and silent between you both. You bit down on your bottom lip again and repeated the address back to him very slowly. “Number 93 Diagon Alley.”

“Number 93 Diagon Alley,” he echoed you. His grin was so large, you began to see traces of that thirteen-year-old boy you’d first met all those long years ago. He was so excited, wasn’t he? You felt a pull at your heart. And you were so excited for them. “I love you, kid. Don’t forget to write, and definitely don’t forget to study. Molly Weasley would be so disappointed.”

He pulled you in for another hug before making his way down the corridor. You folded your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow. “You? The King of avoiding schoolwork at all costs is actually telling me to study?”

“What can I say?” Fred shrugged his shoulders. Your best mate. Your best mate in the entire world, known for his pranks and laughter and everything in between was pointing a finger at you and telling you to get a jump start on your school work, like he’d done a complete one-eighty. “You just bring out this side of me.”

“I love you, you absolute git.”

“I love you more.”

Your breathing intensified as he vanished down the corridor.

“Wow,” you heard a voice from behind you, “can’t believe you somehow got my brother to tell you to study. What has the world come too?”

When you whirled around to come face to face with George, his face was an exact carbon copy of Fred’s -- but his sparkling eyes and lopsided grin made your insides twist in a way that Fred’s didn’t. All you wanted to do was run up to your dorm and cry, thinking about the entirety of your schooling where you could’ve been wrapped up in his arms if he’d just felt the same way. But that wouldn’t help you in any way. You had to be thankful for what you had.

“It definitely won’t be the same with you two gone.”

You couldn’t help it -- the words escaped you before you could register your own thoughts. You could see George’s expression fill with guilt, something that had been happening more often than not, so you offered him a tremendous grin that split your face in half, despite the tears that were falling generously now. You stuck your hand out to pull him into you. “I hope you know how proud I am of you both.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, took your hand in his and walked toward you. He pulled you into a bone crushing embrace, one you’d definitely feel the effects of a few days from now. He cradled your head in his hand the exact same way Fred did, and also placed a kiss onto your hair, but the way your blood bubbled at his touch was so very different from the way you felt with your best friend.

“I just want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For.. everything.” George’s voice was raspy. He pulled away from you but didn’t let go. He slid his hands across your shoulders and down your arms before intertwining his fingers with yours. He slowly caressed his thumbs over the tops of your hands as he chose his words carefully. “For being my best friend, for believing in this ridiculous idea, for dealing with my antics. For everything, all of it. I reckon Hogwarts would not have been the same had I not met you in Charms.”

“It was my favorite lesson, you know.”

“Mine, too.”

You forced yourself to continue to smile at him through your tears, because you didn’t want you blubbering like an idiot to be the last thing he’d see before leaving the castle. As if this entire exchange hadn’t been dramatic enough, you were really considering telling him how you felt -- right as he left. You could shout out I love you!, couldn’t you? It would be the perfect time, too, because he’d already be off and you could run up to your dormitory without worrying about having to face him or your own intense feelings! The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue --

“Save a pygmy puff for me, yeah?”

But those were the words that spoke instead.

George raised his eyebrows and held up a finger. “Oh! That reminds me. Have got something for you.” You threaded your eyebrows together in confusion as he reached into his pocket. He very gently pulled out a ribbon, the colour a perfect blend of purple and pink, same as the puffs, with sparkles dancing across it as if it were charmed. Which, knowing George, it probably was. He fiddled with it slightly in his hands before looking up to meet your gaze. “You’ve inspired us. Got a whole line of these things in the works. So I want you to do me a favour.”

Your voice was a whisper. You’d nearly forgotten how to formulate coherent sentences. “What?” you asked him.

He then took a very deep breath and reached out to move your hair. He gently placed the ribbon behind your ears and tied it into a small bow on the top of your head. “When you’re feeling poorly about your exams, or about finishing school, or about anything, because I know you will -- put this on. Think of us. And just remember that we’re only a letter away until graduation, alright?”

As he watched more tears well up in your eyes, he considered telling you the truth: that it had been him this whole time, sending you these letters and gifts. It’d been him since the beginning, he’d just been too afraid to tell you. He wet his lips and watched as you brought your fingers to the ribbon and touched it gently. He was going to do it, it was time. Probably a few years too late, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He was leaving in five bloody minutes, and he had to seize his chance, when the vulnerability was thick and the emotions were high and he wasn’t going to chicken out completely --

But just as he found his confidence, Fred softly called his name from round the bend before disappearing again. You threw your arms around the back of George’s neck and stood on the tips of your toes to hug him. There was no mistaking the sound of your wobbly voice in his ears -- you were crying fully now. “I’m going to miss you.”

If his emotions weren’t sky high, he would’ve noticed just how easily the tears came to the front of his eyes at your simple, five word phrase.

“I’m going to miss you, too.”

He wished it could be yesterday, or the day before. Or last month. Or last year. He wanted to be back in Charms in your third year. He wished he could go back in time, any amount of time, just to have more with you, because this couldn’t possibly be the end. It couldn’t be.

Through sniffles and sobs and the cracks in your voice, he swore he heard you say, “I love you.”

Fire shot through his veins, but bloody hell, he didn’t have time to unload all of that. Fred was calling his name again. “I love you, too.”

George pressed his lips to your hairline and stayed there like that for a few more seconds you wished could last a lifetime. You didn’t even bother trying to hide your tears anymore -- they were cascading down your cheeks, and violent sobs were involuntarily escaping from your overused lungs. Every single ounce of your body hurt due to all of the crying you’d been doing the last couple of days. It felt so stupid and so dramatic and so absolutely awful, because the truth was, it was only a couple of months until you saw them again. Until you saw him again. A few months was nothing.

But the idea of being here without them hurt more than you could begin to fathom.

When he pulled away, you noticed how red and blotchy his cheeks were alongside his bloodshot eyes, his messy hair. But you beamed at him again and squeezed his hand and said, “Congratulations,” and watched him as his fingers let go of yours and he walked toward the other end of the corridor.

“Hey,” you called, thinking of something. George spun around quickly and peered longingly at you. You just needed a few more seconds or so. “How’re you two getting out of here, anyway? You know Umbridge has all the entrances sealed. You think it’s going to work, whatever you two’ve got planned?” There was a sliver of selfishness that hoped it didn’t, but you suppressed it. You were overflowing with pride for your best friends.

And then there he was -- that young boy filled with adventure and reckless abandon, looking at you as if only seeing you for the very first time. His grin deepened when he replied, “Don’t worry -- it’s in typical Weasley fashion.” He stopped in his tracks and placed his hands in his pockets, and peered at you with a type of intense sincerity that made every muscle in your body ache all over again. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

Your lip quivered again. “Yeah,” you replied, willing yourself to believe it. You would. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

You shook your head at him and watched as he disappeared around the bend, but not before that signature wink he loved to offer.

About thirty minutes later, after you’d had a good cry and rinsed the runny mascara off of your cheeks and from underneath your eyes, you heard a bit of yelling from inside the castle. You were sitting in the courtyard basking in the glorious spring weather, forcing yourself to focus on what you needed to study, when a group of students began to huddle near the windows.

Confused, you shut your spellbook and wandered over to where they were gathered, wondering what the bloody hell could be going on inside. Weren’t the fifth years supposed to be taking their OWLs?

And then two red headed figures zoomed out of the castle on their broomsticks, followed by a firework dragon the size of the real dragon Harry had fought just last year, with more sparklers and pyrotechnics behind them brightening up the sky. Students flooded into the courtyard and cheers were nearly shaking the whole entire structure of the castle. You looked around at all of the students, beaming with exuberance, and wondered just how many of the Wildfire Whizbangs had gotten caught in Umbridge’s hair, setting it aflame. You smiled to yourself and began to clap, too.

For as blue as you felt, you were ten times happier for them.

George and Fred were now hovering in the air beneath a very large firework in the shape of a ‘W’. Fred was busy cheering along with the crowd, clearly pleased with the feedback from all of the students -- and even some teachers. Was that Flitwick he spotted below? Had he made his Charms teacher proud?

But George wasn’t cheering -- he was focused. Focused on scanning the crowd, focused on bouncing his eyes from student to student until he found the familiar one he was looking for.

“You alright, Georgie?” Fred called over the roar of the dragon, now swimming through the clouds.

“Yeah,” George replied, though he didn’t fully believe it -- not until he saw you, in the middle of a sea of Ravenclaws, peering up at the two of them with nothing but admiration plastered onto your face. George breathed another sigh of relief and didn’t take his eyes off of you. He couldn’t. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“To new adventures!” Fred cheered and raised his hands in delight. More students began to scream and cheer and wave to them from the grounds. He proceeded to do a backflip on his broomstick in the air.

When your eyes met his from below, he watched as your smile slowly grew a bit larger and your clapping became more exuberant. He could already count down the bloody days until you were finished with school and walking through the front doors of their shop, a grin on your face so large it could cure diseases! But for now, you had to study, and he had a business to run.

He turned toward his brother, who had never looked more excited or proud in all his years. George stuck out his hand for a high-five as he wobbled slightly on his broom. To Fred, George replied, “To new adventures, mate.”

tag list: @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx��@keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes-words @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpineweasley @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbystrawberry0421 @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook

[meetmeatthecoda]

Lately, I've found myself drawn to stories ( and I mean drawn to as in envisioning those stories in my head, thinking them through to the very last detail, not reading, let alone writing them down, because I've long since accepted that they will never turn out quite the same on the paper ) where Red is the one who'd been seriously hurt and, therefore, rendered unconscious for an indefinite amount of time and worried Liz is the one who doesn't leave his side, hoping and praying and pleading that he would wake up. Probably, something that has to do with how unfair it is that we've seen Red keep vigil by hurt!Lizzy's side – playing music for her, holding her hand, reading to her etc. – a number of times and yet, over the course of 8 seasons, never have ever been allowed the pleasure of seeing Liz do the same for him ( not even when he was shot – because she left to retrieve the Fulcrum and couldn't come back until the fight was over – or when he was poisoned – because she'd been waiting to be cleared to see him and he ran away the moment he wasn't actively dying, because that's Red for you all ), even though she loves and cares about him as much as he loves and cares about her.

I mean, just imagine the possibilities!

Liz pacing around the waiting area of Red's mobile hospital while he's in surgery, unable to think about anything else other than how he looked – battered and broken and barely alive – when they've found him and how his head rested in her lap ( she could almost convince herself that he was merely dozing, if he wasn't so deathly pale and still and there wasn't so much blood on his clothes and her clothes and her hands and the backseat of the car ) and his hand was limp in her death grip as they rushed him to his doctors and she whispered words of reassurance and encouragement to him even though she knew he couldn't hear her and how she had to fight the instinct to curl around her lover and snarl at anyone who would come close because she can't let him be hurt further as the medics took him away from her, exchanging observations and orders that didn't sound particularly reassuring. She's also acutely aware of the fact that Red is fighting for his life – there, just a few feet away from her – and, though he's the strongest man she's ever known, he may not win, and so she makes a promise to the empty air in front of her that she will kill him herself if he dares to give up on her and Agnes like that now, when they've just reached the good, right place in their relationship, just confesses their feelings to each other. At some point, Dembe most certainly pulls Liz in for a hug, letting her cry in his shoulder, doing his best to comfort her ( even though there's nothing that can bring her more comfort than Red's hug, when he – alive and whole – wraps his arms protectively around her and holds her close and lets her hide from the whole world in his arms, his chest, his shoulder and neck – wherever she prefers to burrow her face at the time – and the memory itself makes her cry harder, because there's a possibility that he will never hug her like that again ), even though he's just as worried and scared as she is, and Mr Kaplan helps Liz clean up, washing away Red's blood from her hands and producing seemingly out of the thin air fresh clothes for her to change into.

Red, of course, pulls through the surgery, beating all odds, and Liz's heart floods with relief at the good news before sinking when the doctor explains to her and Dembe and Mr Kaplan the extent of Red's injuries and that it's impossible to say when – or even if – he wakes up.

And so the waiting game begins. Liz doesn't leave Red's side, holding his hand, stroking his knuckles with her thumb and never letting go, constantly talking to him and reading to him and even asking Dembe to bring the record player and some records from the Bethesda apartment to play to him, hoping that it would elicit some kind of response from him. Yet, as they days go by, there's not a single, smallest sign that he's aware of anything that's going on around him, that he's still there somewhere and is trying to find his way back to her, to them – he doesn't stir, doesn't so much as flutter his eyelashes, and Liz grows more desperate with each passing day, even though the doctor assures her that Red's slowly but surely improving ( but she can't see it with her own eyes, and if she can't see it, she's less likely to believe it, the more time passes with him just lying there, undisturbed by the loud, chaotic world around him ).

And then there's Agnes... While Liz keeps vigil at Red's bedside, the babysitting duties are split equally between Aram and Samar, Charlene and Cooper, Ressler and Audrey and Dembe and Mr Kaplan. Yet more often than not whoever picks little Agnes up from school and / or her ballet classes brings her over to the safe-house where Liz and Red are. She doesn't seem to be as unnerved by Red's state as her mommy is, climbing on his bed each time she visits ( after giving her mommy the biggest hug, of course ) and leaning in close to him, examining his face thoughtfully before half-asking, half-stating "He's still tired, mommy?". And Liz usually replies with a hoarse "Yes, baby" because she doesn't trust herself not to get choked up if she tries to answer more eloquently. Agnes simply nods then, satisfied with the explanation why he hasn't woken up yet, and settles against Red's side – mindful of his injuries and the spider web of wires and tubes connecting him to all sorts of monitors and machines – and either naps ( especially, on ballet classes days ) or tells her mommy and Red ( she talks to him just like Liz does much too easily – promising him to show him the new moves she's learnt when he wakes up etc. – as if she's already done that before or seen anyone else do that... unbeknownst to Liz, she did both – when Liz herself was in a coma, Agnes both saw Red talk to her mommy and was encouraged by him to talk to her, too, because it may help her mommy sleep easier and maybe she'll get better sooner and finally wake up ) about her day or does her homework or draws ( more often than not, she draws either cards for Red to read when he wakes up or just things she wants him to see ). And when the time comes for her to leave, she always kisses Red on the cheek, wishing him "sweet dreams" and to get better soon, and then gives her mommy, who tries so very hard not to tear up but fails miserably, a hug and a kiss, too, and tells her frequently that she shouldn't cry because Red is just too tired, just like she – Liz – once was, and that he just needs to sleep a bit more.

And when the door behind Agnes closes and Liz is sure her daughter won't see / hear her, she breaks down hard, in big, ugly sobs, because her little girl shouldn't be acting so naturally in this kind of situation and because she wishes so hard that Red just woke up, because she can't do this, any of this, without him.

In the end, once his body has healed itself enough and he regained enough of his strength, Red, of course, does wake up. It's a slow process, and Liz thinks she might either faint or go mad from the overwhelming feelings that are swirling inside of her when Red moves for the first time in what seems to her like forever – squeezing her hand feather-lightly – and when he leans slightly, unconsciously into her touch when she strokes his cheek – out of habit, without even expecting any sort of reaction from him and being pleasantly surprised – and when he opens his eyes for the first time – it's a brief occurrence, with his eyes slipping shut tiredly again after just a few moments, and he's still pretty much out of it, apparently, not even noticing her presence by his side, but for Liz it's a major event – and when he finally, finally looks directly at her – alive and conscious and alert – and calls her "Lizzy". He's still weak and his voice sounds terrible and Liz knows she shouldn't let all of her pent-up feelings – the fear and despair and frustration and love and relief and exhaustion – out on him like that – he's just woken up, after all – but she can't hold back the tears nor the jumbled mess of "thank you"s and "I love you"s and " "I've missed you"s and "I'm so so happy you're back" and "I was so worried" and "Don't ever scare me like that again" that spills from her lips as she leans in to kiss him lightly and give him the gentlest of hugs...

(Since I'm not a ficwriter and, therefore, have no intentions of using this pile of ideas/images/feelings myself, I wouldn't mind at all if you or any other writer drew inspiration from this rambling of mine)

Ahhhhh 😭😭😭 Are you sure you're not a fic writer, anon?? Cause this reads like some quality hurt/comfort to me!! 🥲🥲 Honestly, this is a lovely scenario to imagine & it gives me a slightly bitter sense of satisfaction to think of Liz suffering through just a fraction of the time Red spent by her side while she was in her coma... especially if it's the catalyst for fEeLiNgS to emerge tee hee bc, you're RIGHT, we were woefully deprived of those situations in the show & I'll never not be sad about it tbh. More specifically, things I love the most about this in no particular order: Liz having to "fight the instinct to curl around her lover & snarl" *swoon*, Liz swearing she will kill him herself if he dies LMAO, Dembe hugging her for comfort & Mr. Kaplan helping her get cleaned up 🥺🥺🥺, Liz playing records for Red yasss, AGNES & everyone taking turns babysitting her while she misses her Daddy desperately but deals with the situation with a maturity & grace beyond her years in an effort to help her grieving Mommy through it cool cool mkay mkay, Liz only breaking down once Agnes leaves OWWW, anddddd Liz being a blubbering mess when Red finally wakes up & calls her "Lizzie" & they kiss *whispers* it's fine, i'm fine 🙃 IN CONCLUSION, I love this anon, thank you for sharing this lovely little AU with me!! 🥰 And much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

[ughseoks]

the story of us | ksj

— pairing; seokjin x reader

— genre; angst, slight fluff in beginning & end

— word count; 1.6k

— warnings; angst, small fight, two stubborn dummies refusing to communicate properly

— summary; you thought that the story of you and jin was one that had a fairytale ending, but a miscommunication leaves you scrambling to ensure it doesn’t end in tragedy instead.

「based on “the story of us” by taylor swift」

— masterlist —

From the moment you met, you hoped that one day, you’d be able to tell your kids the story of you and Jin. You’d be able to recount how his cheeks tinted pink when your gazes locked, sparks flying instantly; how you crossed the room to talk to the mystery boy with broad shoulders, and a feeling of right tugged deep in your gut.

Your relationship blossomed from the first hello, and before you knew it, you and Jin were attached at the hip. Friends and family would always tell you that the two of you were “the lucky ones,” and you couldn’t deny it. How you’d managed to find Jin amongst the sea of people at your university still left you clueless, but one thing was for sure: you had no intention of ever letting him go.

It’s funny how in just one week, everything can change.

Glancing at your phone, you pushed open the door to the library. Your first instinct was to search the room for the tall, elegant creature that was Jin— but you stopped yourself short. Just a week prior, everyone knew that your place was the spot next to him, but now, you were searching the room for an empty seat. The large building was filled to the brim with students studying, sleeping, and frantically completing almost-due assignments. Casting your gaze to the floor, you plopped down at the nearest vacant table, pulling out your laptop to continue writing your literary analysis.

After a few minutes of staring at the halfway-completed document, you sighed in frustration, running a hand through your tousled hair. Normally, you were a quick writer, the words flowing from your fingertips with ease; but now, you couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

As much as you hated to admit it, the source of your distraction was Jin. The argument that the two of you had three nights prior was the only thing you could focus on, and it was affecting both your work and school life way more than you’d like to admit. Resting your chin on the palm of your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the memories begging for your attention.

“Lately, I don’t even know what page you’re on!” you yelled, throwing up your hands in frustration, “It’s like you aren’t even you anymore. What happened?”

Recently, you’d felt like something new had formed between you. Something more than being just friends. But, clearly, you were wrong. Jin had grown distant from you; he was staying out into the late hours of the night, ignoring your texts and calls, and showing up to school with the darkest under eye bags you’d ever seen. You didn’t know if it was because he sensed a change in your feelings for him or some other underlying issue, but what hurt you the most was that he was choosing to distance himself rather than confide in you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jin retorted, desperation and panic seeping into his tone, “I’m still the same Jin you’ve always known. Nothing has changed!”

“You know that’s a lie,” you growled, pointing an accusing finger at him, “I can tell when you’re lying. Just tell me what’s going on!”

He clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from your fiery eyes.

“Is…” your voice dropped to a soft tone, emotion causing it to shake slightly, “Is it because of me?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, still not looking at you.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed it,” your voice had developed a bitter undertone to it; after all, you couldn’t believe he was denying what had been happening between the two of you. “You and I… I see us as being… more than just friends. Do you not feel the same way? Is that why you’ve been distant?”

Jin’s eyes blew wide open in shock, but it was only a moment before his face turned stone cold and the answer that you’d been dreading floated past his lips with an insulting level of ease.

“Yeah, it is.”

Miscommunication leads to fallouts. You and Jin were both well aware of that. But some invisible wall kept the two of you divided, and no matter how many things you wished he knew, the wall you’d erected seemed to grow taller and thicker each day. It stood tall and proud, guarding your already fragile heart from being dealt the final blow that would inevitably shatter it into a million, glittering Jin-shaped pieces.

Letting out a groan, you slammed your laptop shut, sliding it into your bag and storming out of the library. Clearly, you weren’t going to get any work done.

How did you and Jin end up this way?

It was three weeks later when you found yourself in the middle of a party, nervously pulling at your sweatshirt and trying to look busy. Scanning the room anxiously, your gaze unexpectedly locked with Jin’s. His eyes widened in shock before he spun on his heel, leaving you behind him without so much as a peep.

That was the first time you’d seen him in person since the argument. You hadn’t expected him to act like nothing had happened— after all, you weren’t sure you wanted to pretend like you were suddenly best friends again, either— but you didn’t expect him to flat out ignore you. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you tried to find a familiar face amongst the crowd, pushing back the thought of Jin doing his very best to avoid you.

Once upon a time, you thought you’d tell the story of how you almost lost your mind when you saw Jin for the first time; how he walked you home that night to make sure you’d make it home safe and sound because you were “too nice to die at the hands of a creepy old man on the street at 11pm.”

But now, he held his pride like he should’ve held you.

God, you were scared to see the ending of this story. Why were you both pretending like this was nothing? It was getting to be too much for your body and mind to handle, and judging by the dark circles you’d spotted under Jin’s eyes, he wasn’t faring much better than you.

Words couldn’t describe just how badly you wanted to run into his arms and tell him how much you missed him. But you had no idea how to.

Pulling out your phone, you drafted message after message, only to delete each of them a few seconds after typing them. The last messages sent between you were from two weeks ago, and the last time you’d actually talked in person had been almost three.

Yet you’d still check your phone at least once every hour, hoping to see a notification from him, just to be let down by a blank screen.

Huffing, you slipped your phone into your pocket and ran a hand through your hair, frustration and confusion coursing through your veins as you stood alone in the crowded room. Sure, you’d had arguments with Jin before, but you swore you’d never heard silence quite this loud. Inside, you were dying to know if it was killing him like it was killing you, but you didn’t know what to say or ask to get past this roadblock.

This terrible twist of fate had shattered everything, and the once fairytale-like story of you and Jin was starting to look a lot more like a tragedy now.

In an emotionally fueled rampage, you suddenly yanked your phone back out of your pocket. Your fingers slammed into the keyboard over and over again, not giving yourself enough time to think twice about what you’d typed out until after you hit send.

You: hey. can we talk?

You were sick and tired of competing for the title of who could act like they cared less… you just wanted Jin back. Although you might be stubborn, you liked it better when the two of you were on the same side, and you were more than willing to lay your armor down if he would admit that he’d rather love than fight.

Sighing, you turned your screen off once more, sliding your phone into your pocket. The battle was in his hands now, so there was no point in letting this ruin the rest of your night.

Jin’s heart was beating a million times a minute as he stared at his phone screen, reading the text message from you over and over again. All he had to do was reply to the four simple words, but for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to respond.

The question really only required a one-word response, so why was this so hard? Was he scared of the conversation that would inevitably follow? The chance of having his heart broken? Or was he, deep down, still trying to pretend like nothing was really wrong?

There were thousands of thoughts racing through Jin’s mind as he continued to stare at the screen, wishing there was a way to express what he was feeling. He had so many things to tell you, but he didn’t know how, and he was sure that if he stared for even a second longer he might shut down.

“Everything okay, dude?” Hoseok put a hand on Jin’s shoulder, throwing his friend a concerned glance, “You seem a little out of it.”

“Y-Yeah,” Jin locked his phone after sending a quick reply, sliding it into his pocket with only a moment’s hesitation, “I’m good.”

Jinnie: sure. let’s call later tonight.

a/n; this is a day early bc i love jin & i’m high on that mots:7 juice right now. sorry for the angst & messy writing. but i wrote this in like an hour with no editing and hey, at least there’s implied fluff at the end, right??

— masterlist —

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Dying on PLA (Pure Love Alliance)

This post was written by a former BC who questioned an authority figure on PLA and experience life-threatening consequences.

I’ll start with this: the moment I was dying was when I felt my soul sinking into the ground during the PLA 2000 tour, in a lavish town house owned by The Unification Church in Kensington, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in London, UK. I was 16 when this all happened. For some reason, my soul wasn’t rising as you might imagine when people die, probably because it was too tired, instead, it sank. I was in a sleeping bag and surrounded by 300 other kids all in sleeping bags, lined up like goods in the grocery store with little room to walk. Asleep, I slowly realized that I was sinking through my sleeping bag, past my body, into the oriental rug and through hardwood floor, deep into the ground, creeping further and further below the foundation of the building. So I knew I was dying—but I didn’t feel the least bit sad or upset. In fact I was relieved—even ecstatic. It meant that the torment from my supposed fellow BCs would be over, that this pain from the infection raging through my body that left my neck, arms, wrists wrapped in puss filled bandages, and my body so fatigued (so. fatigued.) would be over. The ground felt cool, and was getting colder, and it was really actually quite refreshing.

How great would that be to not have to wake up? Who cares if these people found a dead girl in her sleeping bag in the morning. Good for them. They might be surprised but they’d get to spin some fantastic story about my soul paying indemnity for the crimes that my Japanese ancestors committed against the Koreans; that’s apparently how they were explaining my mysterious illness to friends— an illness that had my upper body oozing a relentless and embarrassing flow of thick yellow puss, that had me changing my bandages every hour if I had the energy and a clean bandage on me. I found out that this story was making the rounds through the 300 or so BCs who were also on that tour. Before that, someone who I went to summer camp with for years, actually asked nonplussed, if I was currently struggling with Satan. Another story that others hinted to was that I was fallen. Writer’s note: At that point in time, like many of you, I had not so much as held a boy’s hand, let alone kissed anyone, made out and definitely never lost my virginity. I was precocious, spirited, ballsy—like any teenager trying to find humor in strange places. Most things I did was for the sake of a good laugh. But I was in my heart a total straight arrow, and I believed in the church, seriously, like the best or worst of them.

On this trip, there were also elders who took me aside from the group dinners and recounted the amazing stories about my dad and what a great guy he was at the religious seminary, the New Yorker Hotel, Belvedere, etc. And then they would say; Why would you disappoint him so horribly?

I wouldn’t know exactly how much I was disappointing him because I was never allowed to call him or my mom, or make any phone calls for that matter. I was being guarded 24/7, my passport was locked up, I wasn’t allowed to sleep much (I would be kept up later and woken up earlier than the others), nor take showers, which caused, what I would later find to be a trio of life-threatening infections coursing through my body. I had a very different experience from other BCs who were free to eat, shower, and sleep.

When I felt like my soul must have been half a mile below ground. I stopped, because this was it. Then I felt something big—bigger than me, bigger than everything and everyone around me, pulling me up with the utmost urgency, and I knew that this big thing gave a damn— even if I didn’t. I snapped back to my body with a whiplash that woke me up, panting, freaking out. Even if I didn’t care to live (and I really didn’t), even if these 300 other people around me, even if my religion didn’t care, God, the universe, this force, without a doubt, cared violently. This is when I realized that God did not move exclusively through organized religion, he/it moves and vibrates in anything, in everything. So my direct relationship with this force was felt for the first time under those floorboards, separate from and despite the machinations of my religion.

I immediately woke up and saw in the reflection of this gigantic ornate gold mirror on the wall opposite me, what looked like at least 20-30 white, blue glowing shadows, all very tall, standing around me and the dozens of sleeping BCs around me. Who they were, I’m not sure, I was delirious, and more importantly I was terrified that I had almost died, and so willingly. I couldn’t go back to sleep. But now I had a fire in my stomach, to get through this alive and a rabid indignity against those who’d put me in this position, including myself. I would do right by the universe, by God, by surviving this.

I got here by making the mistake of questioning the director of the PLA on the modus operandi of the Pure Love Alliance, on Day 1 of the tour. My fellow BCs didn’t make the mistake of vocalizing the inconsistencies in the logic of posing as a non-denominational group when we were 99% BCs, they didn’t stand up for the not even 1 percent non-BC kids who didn’t have a choice but to read the Divine Principle and join our prayers. If you are too precocious with too many rhetorical questions for elders, you’ll see just how nasty and how quickly the machine will mobilize against you.

Why. During the previous PLA tour of 1999 I remember lying about our religious association when being interviewed by the local news in Birmingham, AL. We were vetted and instructed to withhold our association with the Unification Church so when a reporter asked me what I was, I responded “Lutheran"— my father’s previous religion before joining the church.

I hate lying about something as grand and dumb as my religion. I didn’t think that we needed to constantly lie, it frustrated me always having to hide the church from my school friends and I wanted to do away with the smoke and mirrors and live openly about this. So at the beginning of the 2000 tour that would be marching through the US in July and then marching through Europe in August, I went up to the director and I asked him: why can’t we be forthright about who we are, if we’re truly non-denominational?

I didn’t immediately realize what a total coward he was, I just thought he was an adult, he must have some good answers. But he pandered with half answers, trotted me around the ring with half baked logic all while getting increasingly upset and dismissive: you just don’t understand; this is much too complicated for you to understand (more upset); this is God’s will; do you want to go against God’s will? And I responded with: I think it’s pretty simple, God doesn’t need us to lie. We should be honest to the press and other churches about being associated with the UC. Otherwise we should stop calling ourselves non-denominational, right? The conversation went nowhere and I eventually walked away.

I was probably earmarked as being a troublemaker but it wasn’t that bad. At least in the beginning, I hung out with my BC friends, some of whom I’d been growing up with and all was well during the tour through the US.

It was when I noticed that there were 3 or 4 non-BC kids on the tour—how they were roped in to hang out with us nutjobs for two weeks, I’m not sure, but I know everyone looked at them with a special wonder. They were special to us because we were showing them that there was this great camaraderie and communal life that we had together amongst ourselves and we really believed that we were letting them in on something special.

I noticed that while we were reading the Divine Principle and praying in circles, they were expected to do the same with us, without any opportunity to decide for themselves whether or not they wanted to in the first place. This would be a small but important gesture to extend for any organization that called itself non-denominational to the outside world; to accept and respect people of other faiths; to let them have the opportunity to pray in their own way if they needed to. It really bothered me because it seemed wildly disrespectful and a bit dishonest. If I were traveling with a Christian youth group, wouldn’t I want the right to read the DP and pray my way at 5 am in the morning on Sundays?

It became a breaking point when late one night on a tour bus in Europe, I brought up the issue again during a bus reading of the DP, and I got pissed. I openly pointed out to the bus leaders the hypocrisy of a so-called non-denominational youth group posing as such to the press, all while not respecting the faiths of others on the tour.They said that this is how it’s done, that everyone does the same thing so that they can stick to the strict schedule to get through the tour. This is the will and mission of the PLA, this is God’s will, and we need to see it through. Then I said: If they aren’t allowed to choose, than I refuse to read the DP and refuse to join prayers until they do have the choice.

I’m not really sure why I cared so much but it was because I could see my bus leaders acknowledging my logic, I could see behind their eyes that they did. But they towed the line and refused to acknowledge that there was any right. But my refusal to pray or read DP, they took very, very seriously—yet in my mind, I wasn’t doing anything drastic, I wasn’t leaving the church. That would be crazy! I was just taking a stand.

These non-BC kids were, at least outwardly, complacent. But let’s be honest we were all 14, 15, 16 years old and expected to do everything en masse, but why shouldn’t they/we have the choice to read the DP or not? What was faith if it wasn’t a deliberate, and educated choice? Shouldn’t anyone be allowed the right to question things, if only to return with stronger answers?

As soon as I had this fight on the bus, that was when the horrible things really began. I was always being shaken awake on long rides when everyone else was allowed to fall asleep, even if only for an hour or two. Lack of sleep breaks you quickly. I wasn’t allowed to sleep with my friends, instead I always had sometimes two unnis sleeping and walking with me. I could mingle with others, but I was always being watched by them close by. I was escorted to bathrooms but never allowed to take a shower, they said I could take one later, but later never came until it was too late, after my infections had become so severe they couldn’t exactly ignore it.

It was 3 in the morning when the buses filled with BC teenagers and our wranglers parked on the curve of the fucking German autobahn to let us out. We were released into the cold night by our demented but well-meaning leaders, searching along the curve of the freeway in the wet grass and mud trying to find our suitcases. Let me repeat, 3 am, 300+ teenagers trudging in the dark along a sharp curve of the German autobahn before entering what, in my mind, was the Black Forest.

I don’t even remember who was in charge of me at that point but it seemed to be predetermined that one sister became my handler in Germany. She came out of the blue, barking at me to move out, and personally marched me into that forest, literally behind me nipping at my heels, always on the assumption that I would flee sideways, off the trail, deeper into the forest, to what, I don’t know. I had no desire to leave, I was just hungry and exhausted. When we reached the top it was a huge building that wasn’t even fully constructed with insulation hanging out and utility lights haphazardly nailed and dangling from the ceilings. It was in a huge large barn like space where we convened in a long line to finally get some split pea soup as dinner, and by the time I finally got some, someone knocked it out of my hand, on purpose? Who the fuck knows. I would have cried but I was too tired and I don’t need sympathy. Some other BCs said that was too bad, but my handler wouldn’t let me go back in line to get more. Instead, we had to pitch our tents in the mud incline below the barn, my tent mate was of course my ever-watchful unni/handler.

I’m not exactly sure how the tent stood up, it was lopsided because of the mud and the wet grass, and the incline, but once that was done I went to go brush my teeth, and saw behind the barn, a bunch of white statues staggered in a terrifying symmetry along the hill; literally, I don’t think I’d ever seen anything as frightening as those statues in the moonlight. They were the true family, ghostly white and with their arms outstretched like they were dancing, I went up to them unsure as to what they were. They were smooth and so white but when I touched them, they weren’t marble, just hollow and plastic—creepy, empty lawn furniture. And for the first time in my life I saw them as this insidious, careless force who either had no idea, or simply had no compassion for the ramifications of their will and franchise. That was the night when my perspective on everything started to shift.

I wasn’t allowed to shower the next day even though I could see my other friends lining up with their towels. And I was always ferried away from communal meals, to have a one on one with some important elder who would shame me for an hour. And it worked. I remember one guy telling me with beady eyes, rather emphatically, how disappointing this will be for my father, who’s such a good guy, everyone loves him, I don’t know him, but everyone loves him— when he finds out how I’ve been working against the mission. I really tried hard to imagine if my dad would be proud or disappointed in me for taking a stand but my thoughts fizzled into a murky question mark while I stared at the white statues now in daylight. I didn’t know the answer and I was so tired, exhausted and hungry, and I was beginning to slowly not care as much.

But I also began to resent these elders for believing that I was working against them, I wasn’t! I was only asking good questions! I was on their side, and I believed I was still a good person.

Instead of not really being able to hang out with my friends, I sensed they were also avoiding me. I remember incredulous looks. It got super lonely fast.

It was when one elder oppa along with a whole slew of younger oppas in training crowded around me in a circle in front of everyone after one march to give me a talk. "Stop setting a bad example to the other sisters, this is your last warning.” Their vague warning was made abundantly clear. Even if it wasn’t true, my generation believed that I was fallen and that’s why I was acting out…

At that point I didn’t even consider the sheer stupidity in this non-linear logic, clearly, I ruined my chances of a good match! That was the end for me. No one would want to be blessed to me and that was when I began to really lose it because it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have an arranged marriage, that my trajectory would be anything less than what was expected of me, or any different from anyone else. Even when I was asking these people seemingly simple rhetorical questions, it didn’t mean that I wanted to leave. But I was beginning to realize that it would be impossible to have a happily ever after ending in the church.

I don’t remember France, France was a blur, I just felt sluggish and horrible, light sensitive the entire time, still wasn’t allowed to sleep much and was barred from the showers. I was hiding a nasty rash that was breaking out all over my skin by wearing a cardigan, the only cardigan that I had brought on the trip.

My illness was getting bad when we arrived in the posh neighborhood of Kensington, London. The buses unloaded this shocking fire hazard number of teenagers into one townhouse that strangely appeared to have a bullet proof vestibule and a security camera at the entrance which only added to my feeling that I was being held captive. Meanwhile, nobody else seemed to care about this detail, the fact that we were in a fucking compound. You wouldn’t know it from the unassuming white exterior that blended in with the row of townhouses exactly like all the others in the neighborhood.

I remember after marching through Leicester Square, my subgroup broke off to Trafalgar Square where we shouted our testimonies at one of the fountains and anyone else who would care to stop, but no one did. My leader wasn’t really convinced by my conviction to Pure Love. It was a bit hard, being exhausted, with a fever, to be shouting about Pure Love all while being slut shamed by my generation for no good reason at all. I didn’t really feel like shouting, I just wanted rest and to be alone.

My illness was getting from bad to worse quickly, I had a fever, felt hot, then clammy cold, sweating bullets, in addition to huge open sores spreading on my neck and arms, but whenever I asked to see a Dr. they wouldn’t allow it, I later realized it wasn’t because of money, even after I offered to pay myself, it was because they were afraid that I would talk about everything happening on the tour. It hadn’t even occurred to me to go public with any of this. With what? I didn’t know that there was a story, how bad it really was until afterward.

I did finally get to take a shower in London, I think because that was more reasonable than covering up a dead girl, probably. But the shower didn’t help at that point. Whatever was happening with the sores, it was also in my blood, I felt exhausted, jumpy, crazy, sensitive to light, miserable. When they wouldn’t let me see a doctor, when the pus was spilling out of my bandages and running down my neck, running down my arms, like in some horror film, I begged them to at least let me go to a pharmacy to buy bandages, Neosporin and hydrogen peroxide. They agreed so long as a brother escorted me, a tall one who could easily outrun me if it came to it.

Maybe it was because they were making such a huge deal to keep me on watch that I began to fantasize about getting away. Not to tell on anyone or anything, with no agenda in mind, I just wanted to go home. I asked if I could get my passport and my ticket to try and go home early but that was not possible. I just wanted to get away and so on our way to one rally, I had this brilliant idea and I jumped out of a subway train and onto the platform, I only ran 5 steps before I was yanked back into the train by my unni. After that everyone thought I was totally nuts and definitely pure evil. I had no idea where I was planning to go, I think I was just going to ask directions to a hospital— at that point my sores on my upper body were just getting bigger and were oozing, no amount of soaking the sores in hydrogen peroxide or neosporin would help. It was embarrassing because it was pus and blood soaking through my bandages and into my shirts that I could only rotate so many times. People on the subway and in public were furtively staring at me, they probably smelled the disease on me, but I couldn’t ask for their help.

In my mind today, my older self rewrites the history of that trip. In my older self’s version: I’m unstoppable even though I’m sick. In a fit of manic strength, I jump out of the train, out run my guard, and I don’t stop running until I get to a doctor or to a police station, whichever happens first — then I seek protection at the US embassy despite not having a passport or money on me, and then I get to all major news outlets and I expose this youth group for their psychological and physical abuse, and for misleading the public on the PLA. By doing so, I set a chain of events on an international scale that would bring to light all of the questionable things we’ve had to quietly endure. I put a small chink in the church’s armor and it all comes crashing down. I save my fellow BCs from a life without an educated choice to believe or not, from the waste of time spent fundraising for a thankless institution while their families struggle to get by, in questionable matchings, in a sad, vicious cycle.

In actuality, after nearly dying in a sleeping bag, I’m too tired but crazy alert and a day and a half later I’m somehow on my way to Heathrow airport via the subway. On the way there I fall asleep hugging my backpack, only to wake up to find that other passengers are just looking at me horrified; my bandages had soaked through again, I was pouring pus onto my backpack. I’m so embarrassed for alarming these strangers but there’s nothing I can do, I had changed my bandages only an hour before hand, right before leaving the townhouse. All I can do is zip up my anorak and hope I can rinse these out later.

Finally at Heathrow, I’m handed my plane ticket and finally, my passport and it turns out that the tour is over. I can’t even believe it but the elders, including my handler, are walking away to catch their own planes. I curb my hysteria and get to a pay phone where I finally call my parents in Seattle on a collect call, and I’m freaking out, I’m worried that someone will come out from nowhere and cut the line, capture me, throw me in a white van, what with my luck.

My parents are so happy to hear from me! How are you kiddo? I have to fight to keep from sobbing, I’m shattering and yelling, focusing on just one thing: that they have to get me to a doctor as soon as I land, I keep repeating this until my dad promises and repeats this to me. I’m scared I just might drop dead right then and there. Once I’m appeased, I take deep breaths to cool down and I ask my mom if anyone in her family did anything to the Koreans during the occupation. She doesn’t understand the question until I explain to her the theory behind one of these rumors.

The line went quiet.

My dad doesn’t know what to say, but my mom blew her top, she was furious.

In my mother’s adorable, hot headed Japanese mom fashion, she emphatically starts yelling into the phone about how my ancestors did nothing. No one in my family served, and in fact, my family was socially ostracized for years for accepting a Korean family who were on hard times into their farming community in Shizuoka prefecture.  (see Footnote)

She was furious and I think stormed away from the phone but I was happy to know, without a doubt, that this dark age posturing was completely ridiculous. My sense of what was reality and what wasn’t was a bit diminished in my daze the past few days, I was glad to have my intellect reinforced.

My parents collect me at the airport and are stunned by the shape I’m in. The doctor explains that I have several severe infections, a staph (staphylococcal) infection and impetigo— a highly contagious bacterial infection on my skin, but it was progressing as an infection in my blood—septicemia, which would have killed me in 48 hours without medical attention. I’m given a heavy flow of an antibiotic cocktail and I’m closely monitored. When I do get home, I can hardly move, and if I’m not sleeping or sitting in a mineral bath, I’m taking antibiotics and trying to heal my skin in time for the new school that I’m transferring to. But in every waking moment, I’m trying to make sense of the previous two weeks. I tell my parents that I’m no longer in the church and they don’t even put up a fight. We don’t talk about it but they can hardly believe what happened to me.

From that point on, I’ve kept my distance from every BC. I partially hold it against them for being complacent, for not chiming in with me, for not seeing the fatal flaws that were so obvious to me. I hold it against them for not standing up for me when they saw the quiet abuse that I went through. For not speaking up for me when people were effectively spreading lies about me. But I realize they didn’t really know me enough, or really even know what was going on all around us at the time, or themselves for that matter. And if I were them instead of me, would I do it any differently?

I hold it against the church for breeding ignorance and stupidity in its members and families; encouraging them to have upwards 10 kids before they can even think about what it means to really take care of them, giving them a real, true education and a fulfilling life; for grinding these families into poverty, a life partially lived on food stamps, for what exactly, I’m still not sure; for collectively instilling this insidious belief that it’s women who are always at fault/responsible in all situations and who carry the onus of Eve’s imprint on the Fall; that men are never to blame/never responsible and therefore unaccountable creatures save for their purpose of begetting a blessed family; that if you’re about to be raped, it’s your duty to kill yourself—not defend yourself and your right to live—before it gets to that; that you are anything less in God’s eyes if you are raped; that our sexuality is a fixed binary without room to account for a full spectrum within ourselves that acknowledges and respects humanity in its entirety—homosexuality and all. I hold the Church responsible for the deaths of BCs I knew, but that’s a longer, separate story.

When and where it all went bad for the Unification Church, I don’t know. I know it was a beautiful thing when my parents joined, I truly believe that they were meant to be together. It was something that I believed in with my whole heart when I was little. I do in fact believe that I’m a blessed child— I have no doubt that there’s a divinity in me, but I know there’s a divinity in everyone, BC or not. Our lives should be lived acknowledging and honoring that little spark, that bit of magic in each of us. It’s that simple.

My only regret in leaving the church at 16 was leaving behind my fellow BCs, especially the younger ones who have no one to advocate for their choice to question. I know they’re struggling or have struggled against parents and elders who are even more forceful and too scared to ask the same questions themselves. I know their questions are harder because they haven’t seen what I have in such crazy, sharp relief. It was made almost too clear to me but for them their experience is slower, blurred and more broken. I have dreams where I’m fighting for them, but I have to leave them behind to fight my own battles. I can hardly think about the church for very long without feeling the most violent, extreme emotions, mostly on behalf of my fellow BCs. It’s part of the reason why I’ve kept away for as long as I have, I’ve forgotten names and faces, and while I’ve forgiven the church for what it’s done to me, I will never forgive what it’s done to the thousands of individuals and families raised in almost poverty because of it. In my heart, it’s not hate, it’s justice, it’s right and wrong, clean. In my heart, I am a fucking vigilante, and part of what propels me is to vindicate them. I fantasize about doing well enough in life, to have enough money so that I can buy up each of the church’s properties so that I can burn them all down to the ground, in the name of all my fellow BCs. If there is one thing that I can thank the church, it’s for making me a fiercely passionate person. To this day, I don’t think anyone can hold a candle to the flames that burn in our hearts.

Life outside of the church is hard, reprogramming the way you consider everything never ends. Dating still feels impossible even after 10 years at it. But it’s so beautiful, it’s so varied and complex and breathtaking— the multitudes, the possibilities that I’ve experienced and are still at my feet. It’s always up to me, every mistake, triumph, difficulty and opportunity is up to me, and I’m so grateful that my conclusions are my conclusions even if it’s a process. As stupid or sad as this story is, I’m grateful for it because now I have a tenacity that rivals most anything. Now, almost 14 years later, I am a fucking panther and I don’t let anyone or anything take me down. Nothing fools me, no situation happens without my consent, and I live life fully, authentically, deliberately and always on my terms. And I want that for every single BC, in the church or not.

__________________________

Silra said: This makes me so sad. I’m an ex British moonie and the PLA was a last straw for me. I was 12 during that time and remember rumours being rife amongst all the BCs. I had to say my testimony at Leicester Square where my dad was super proud. Little did he know I wasn’t happy and the rumour mill was ripe with bullshit about me. I’m sorry you had to go through that.

__________________________

Footnote

The Unification Church heavily guilt tripped the Japanese members about the Japanese occupation of Korea (1910-1945), and about the Korean ‘Comfort Women’. To understand the psychology of this manipulation used during recruitment, see:

Japanese woman recruited by the Unification Church and sold to an older Korean farmer in an ‘apology marriage’

To understand more about the Korean ‘Comfort Women’ issue see:

The Comfort Women controversy

This ‘Comfort Women’ research is very important for all Japanese members. For some perspective, here is an extract from a piece from the New York Times. There were more Korean ‘Comfort Women’ serving the US military from 1950 than ever served the Japanese military during the colonial period.

New York Times:

Ex-Prostitutes Say South Korea and U.S. Enabled Sex Trade Near Bases By Choe Sang-Hun  January 7, 2009

SEOUL, South Korea. South Korea has railed for years against the Japanese government’s waffling over how much responsibility it bears for one of the ugliest chapters in its wartime history: the enslavement of women from Korea and elsewhere to work in brothels serving Japan’s imperial army.


Now, a group of former prostitutes in South Korea have accused some of their country’s former leaders of a different kind of abuse: encouraging them to have sex with the American soldiers who protected South Korea from North Korea. They also accuse past South Korean governments, and the United States military, of taking a direct hand in the sex trade from the 1960s through the 1980s, working together to build a testing and treatment system to ensure that prostitutes were disease-free for American troops.


While the women have made no claims that they were coerced into prostitution by South Korean or American officials during those years, they accuse successive Korean governments of hypocrisy in calling for reparations from Japan while refusing to take a hard look at South Korea’s own history.


“Our government was one big pimp for the U.S. military,” one of the women, Kim Ae-ran, 58, said in a recent interview.


Scholars on the issue say that the South Korean government was motivated in part by fears that the American military would leave, and that it wanted to do whatever it could to prevent that.


But the women suggest that the government also viewed them as commodities to be used to shore up the country’s struggling economy in the decades after the Korean War. They say the government not only sponsored classes for them in basic English and etiquette meant to help them sell themselves more effectively but also sent bureaucrats to praise them for earning dollars when South Korea was desperate for foreign currency.


“They urged us to sell as much as possible to the G.I.’s, praising us as ‘dollar-earning patriots,’ ” Ms. Kim said. ...

The Comfort Women controversy

[havocccd]

✎⌠dev patel . cis male. he/him⌡❝ — well, look who’s just arrived ! if it isn’t the one and only siddharth varma. though, around here they’re known as the gauche. don’t tell ‘em i said this but the twenty seven year old singer/ song writer kinda has a reputation of being nerdy and fiddly. but y’know, they can be modest and affable too. typical gemini. anyways, welcome home and stay safe sid ! ❞ ↷ g. 23. she/her. aest.

welcome hello to my baby boy baby baby baby boy , sid. basically- he grew up in misty hollow but he moved away after high school. and now he’s back after a long time away and he’s Surprised Pikachu at the place !

inspiration for sid: seth cohen from the o.c, ben wyatt from parks and recreation, james from derry girls. Basically any awkward bumbling nerdy idiot who u can’t help but love

he is a big fucking nerd

a little sarcastic but only if he’s super comfortable with u or finds u to be Utterly Ridiculous

a bit awkward and bumbling, kinda always puts his foot in his mouth, but has really good intentions. Pure of heart, dumb of ass!!!!

when it came to the murders and the town lore . sid kinda was really removed from it all ? like , he found the whole thing a lil overdone and tiresome. He just minded his own business. don’t get him wrong, it was SAD what had happened, but he like . never felt like it super affected him. to him, it happened so long ago that he was kinda Unbothered.

growing up, sid was picked on quite a bit. he was basically the shy loser who kept his head down and didn’t say much. mumbled a lot. didn’t have a lot of friends, was always writing or scribbling away in the back of classrooms so most kids found him ‘weird’

loved music. music was his love, his life, his shawty his wife, u know ??? so yeah when he was writing, he was usually writing songs and scribbling away ideas or writing actual music

and that brings us to what happened after high school. Basically, him and a few of his friends started a high school punk band (think of like .. 5 seconds of summer / brockhampton), and sid was put as the lead singer . they all didn’t think anything about it, they just did it as fun. overnight, they skyrocketed

basically, they’re all 20-21 years old and wake up one day and their goofy youtube cover of them singing a song has blown up and they suddenly have all these fans and people wanting to manage them and see more of them

it didn’t slow down from there either. sid went from being a big total nobody, to a really well known guy. he moved out to LA with his band and suddenly they were touring, releasing albums, performing at sold out shows, going on all these late night shows. honestly, it was a whirlwind to say the least – especially bc all of these fans and stuff thought sid was suddenly some kind of ‘rock god’, and he’s like ‘pls im a loser who stumbles over most words offstage’

kinda has two persona’s now. Sexy screaming rock god on stage . .. shy , awkward, thoughtful boy offstage. most ppl are taken aback at how different he is when he isn’t performing

sid literally forgot alllll about misty hollow. He said .. c u losers later !!! it’s only recently, when he was interviewed for some journalism piece, and they were extremely interested to find out he was from THE misty hollow, and know his thoughts on the Killings. it kinda brought him back down to earth and he realised he hasn’t seen misty hollow in a long time, or knows whats going on there . it’s like , once he left misty hollow . . he literally forgot the place even existed.

SO HE’S BACK !!! after like .. . 5 years of being gone , he’s back back back, and is like . already reverting back to his high school self a little bc he feels the town hasn’t changed at all . he’s taken a break from music for a while to regather himself and Remind himself of where he came from.

so ya, famous bby boy all grown up – but still as awkward as Ever.

he’s super sweet, and has good intentions. he’s rlly nice I sWear

SOME PLOTS / CONNECTIONS FOR HIM :

A childhood friend: yee haw, maybe u grew up with sid in misty hollow before he left and u two were close as close can be, but then when he Skyrocketed into fame and forgot about everyone and Everything .. u were Forgotten too and left behind

Long distance friend: the opposite from childhood friend , in that sid and ur character stayed friends through him being in L.A and being a Famous Heartthrob and now after all these years, they get to reunite!

An ex: I love the angst, I love that maybe they never fell out of love, but things got too hard trying to do long distance, or maybe they broke up before he even became famous bc it just Didn’t Work between them, tbh idc !!! any exes!!! (disclaimer, he is heterosexual, and I Especially love woc, so . . woc muses .. hit us uP)

New friends: people he never even knew of before ! people he never had the chance to meet and talk to and now, wow, he’s got so much time and doesn’t know what to do with himself so he’s intrigued by all these folk from misty hollow

Fans : either die hard fans who make him a liiiiitle uncomfortable and Awkward as fuck, or just an admirer from afar who’s like. Happy he got out of misty hollow and is kinda in Awe of him

A muse: he needs someone new to write about ! a new love to fall for and get his heart broken by without them even realising. He is the king of falling for someone who will never notice him

Friends with benefits: and I mean FRIENDS, they’re like super close and goofy but they also hook up. they’re almost best friends at this point but yeah they are also super comfortable Crossing that Line and getting le sexual~

A student : maybe somebody who wants to learn about music from him ?? he’d be really humbled and find it kinda fun to teach a Youngin’ how to write music, or sing and play guitar or WHATEVER

Anything u want !! feel free to hit me up and ill THROW PLOTS AT U VERY SEXILY !

[knybits]

hey guys!! this is @peach-dmxn and i’s contribution to our mini event collab with a bunch of other kny writing blogs!! our character was kanao which was rly nice bc there isnt much written for her! 

anyway, i start us off so please look forward to @peach-dmxn‘s part 2! ill like it as soon as it comes out :,) 

the mini event’s theme is flower, and i bolded the quote we were instructed to use! please enjoy!! also theres a tag that we have where the other contributions from other collabing writers used, so if you want to discover more kny writers and get a taste of their writing, please check out the tag! 

Modern!Au Kanao x reader (part 1) (part 2)

It’s always easy giving Kanao flowers. 

You two have known each other since forever, pinkies interlocked as you both stare at other kids play at school. 

The monkey bars don’t seem interesting, and there’s always too many kids on the slide; so you two enjoy your time on the school field, picking flowers and weeds for each other with pearl white smiles on your faces. 

What once was a past time soon became a tradition for you two as you’d greet each other in the morning with a flower one found on their way to school. 

You’d bring Kanao a small daisy, irises, and once you got to show Kanao the big sunflower you found while walking down the neighborhood on the other side of town. 

In turn, she’d find forget-me-nots, morning glories, tulips, and poppies from neighbors willing to give the petite girl a stem. 

Kanao doesn’t approve of the fact that you jump over the fence to your crabby neighbor’s house to shuffle through their wide array of flowers. You’ve gotten caught a good few times, but Kanao would always patch you up so it’s all worth it. 

Despite all the flowers you’ve given each other, for some reason it’s taboo for the two of you to give each other roses. None of your neighbors grow them, and they’re far too expensive to buy for some broke kids anyway. 

At any rate, it’s when the both of you start your high school years that the tradition starts to take a turn. 

You learn what “flower language” is, and what once seemed like an innocent idea is something you bank all your feelings into in hopes that your childhood friend will now realize that she’s your childhood crush. 

“Kanao!” You cry out, seeing your friend after school and finally being able to pull the bunch of flowers out of your shoe locker. 

She gives you a pensive smile, eyes looking lost but still finding its way back to your’s. 

“Th-These are for you.” Purple lilac flowers reflect well in her eyes, and you feel yourself flush red as she smiles widely at you, accepting the bouquet while taking a deep inhale as to savor the scent. 

You don’t catch the faint cough or the smell of blood. 

“Kanao, look!” You come running up to the girl, who looks at you quizzically. You pull the overflowing amount of flowers from behind your back, dropping a few onto the floor and letting out a distressed cry. 

Kanao’s eyes soften at the sight of the baby pink camellias that you stole from your neighbor’s garden, and she gently takes your hand and leads you into her house to treat the bruise on your cheek. 

She doesn’t scold you for your risky behavior, instead placing a kiss on your cheek once done patching you up. You nearly faint right then and there. 

She takes a small pill when you aren’t looking, as you are far too busy rambling on about your crabby neighbor while placing the flowers in a vase so as to not bother Kanao any more than you have today.

Kanao doesn’t have to guess who left the pile of alstroemeria on her desk. Everyone in class knows of the tradition you two have, and they giggle as they pass the girl, bidding her a “good morning” and a “happy valentine’s day.” 

When Shinobu-sensei walks in to begin her class, she lets out a sweet laugh at the embarrassed look on Kanao’s face, who is looking for a place to store the flowers without damaging them. 

Shinobu has to send her to the nurse’s office half way through class. 

You’re at home, glumly staring at your phone. 

Kanao didn’t come to see you all day, and someone from her class told you that she left the minute the bell rang. 

Maybe the flowers came off too strongly? 

They’re bold, and you know that pink and red are more romantic colors, but Kanao hasn’t picked up on your advances, so you should be fine, right? 

The doorbell chimes and you look up, startled, before scrambling out of your bed and down the stairs to get to the door. Your eyes widen when you look through the peephole, seeing a red flushed Kanao who looks as if she’s a second away from running away. 

“Kanao!” You yell, swinging the door open and scaring her right out of her usual calm face. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just thought you weren’t going to see me today.” She blushes when you laugh, shoulders tense when you notice that she’s hiding something behind her back. 

“Hm? Are you okay? Oh! Did you like the flowers?” You scratch the back of your neck, looking down at the floor and rocking on your heels. You smile brightly when she hums. 

You move from the doorway to allow her in, but tilt your head to the side when she shakes her head, blushing madly even though you didn’t do anything. 

“Kanao? Are you okay-” 

A bouquet of red, white, and pink roses fill your vision and you spit out a petal, but the overwhelming scent pulls you closer to her, and the only thing keeping you two apart is the bouquet. 

“Wh-What’s this?” 

She bites her lip, blinking away tears of anxiety with her blush growing out of control. It causes your heart to pound, not used to her facial expression at all as you gently take the roses into your hands. She takes a deep breath, and the words you never thought she would admit come tumbling out of her lightly tinted lips. 

“I-I’m flirting with you.” 

[lavenderlattaes]

smitten. | min yoongi

⇒ summary: Min Yoongi had been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and he loves spoiling you rotten. Yoongi loves you more than he probably loves his Audi but you’re not so sure about that, yet. Until your friends start pointing it out to the two of you.

⇒ [college! au, rich kid! au, friends to lovers! au]

⇒ pairing: min yoongi x reader

⇒ word count: 12.9k words

⇒ genre: tooth-aching fluff, I suppose and,,, would u consider this slowburn

⇒ warnings: curse words, 12k words of word vomit lmao, and it’s too sweet for diabetic peeps sksk

⇒ note: hello, tumblr. It’s been a while, lmao. This fic wasn’t supposed to be this long, it was supposed to be a drabble idk what happened. ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy!  ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

You push the car door open, and your beaten-up white Converse hits the gravel as you get out of the car. You close the car door shut behind you, slinging your backpack on your shoulders as you squint up at the massive school buildings standing gloriously underneath the early summer sun. You hear the trunk open and the sound of suitcases hitting the ground snaps you from your daze. You turn around and see your best friend Yoongi unloading your suitcases.

“Oh, sorry!” You apologize, running over to him as you help him unload your suitcases. Yoongi takes his largest suitcase out last, slamming the trunk of his Audi shut, wiping the sweat trickling down his forehead with his forearm. You sigh and pull out your hanky from your pocket as you cup his cheek and wipe the sweat.

“You know that there’s things called towels and handkerchiefs, right? You should know that, you can probably buy an entire department store of it,” you tell him as you finish wiping his face and proceed to fixing his hair.

Yoongi just chuckles as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. You just smile as you finish fixing his hair. If it were some other person, Yoongi wouldn’t have let them touch his hair, but you were Y/L/N Y/N, his best friend, and he loves you a whole fucking lot.

Yoongi takes two of his suitcases in his right hand and holds your hand in his left. You take your suitcases in your left too, and he leads you to the main building where you’ll be getting your dorm keys.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi leans toward you slightly, noticing your clammy hand as you approach the building and pass by a lot of students. Your shyness tends to resurface in the presence of a lot of people and you were thankful that your best friend was calm, collected, and cool to help you get through it all, ever since you were in high school.

Just as you reach the steps, you hear the familiar loud voices of your other three friends behind you.

“I’m telling you, Hobi, she was looking at ME! I mean, who wouldn’t? I’m obviously the ten out of the three of us here, you and Joon are eights,” the windshield wiper laugh of Kim Seokjin soon follows after his statement, and you and Yoongi turn around to see your friends, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, and his cousin Kim Namjoon, carrying their own things. Hoseok and Seokjin were both in a very intense conversation about a girl who, according to Seokjin, had the hots for him, despite Hoseok insisting that she was only looking at him because of the amount of pink in his arms. Namjoon, who was shaking his head at his cousin and his other slightly naïve friend, spots you and Yoongi first.

“Hey, Y/N and Yoongi are already here!” He slaps the broad-shouldered guy besides him, who stops talking Hoseok’s ear off before he quickens his pace to greet the two of you. Seokjin and Hoseok follow right behind him. Yoongi lets go of your hand so he can do their handshake, and the boys give you hugs.

“I didn’t think we’d all arrive at around the same time, Seokjin was taking forever,” Hoseok brings up and the boy beside him whips his head to cry out a complaint.

“YAH! I forgot to bring RJ, he was relaxing on my bed and didn’t call out to me, I was starting to think he really didn’t want to come with,” Seokjin hoists the huge, alpaca stuffed toy up higher.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at them. “Whatever. Let’s just go inside and get our keys and room assignments.” The boys nod and Yoongi takes your hand again, leading the way inside.

You twist the doorknob, and take a peek inside the plain, white room that will ultimately be your new home for the next four years. You step inside fully, pulling your suitcase along behind you. You bring it over to the side and Yoongi follows right behind you, carrying a few of your other things.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get a roommate, won’t you be scared of sleeping in a room alone?” Yoongi speaks up, his eyes roaming around the room. You sit down on the bed opposite the one you’ve chosen to sleep on as Yoongi closes the door behind him. Your friends were all busy unpacking and while you told Yoongi to do the same too, he insisted on accompanying you to your room, saying he “wanted to make sure my best friend felt comfy in her new room”.

You laugh. “Yoongi, I sleep alone at home, remember?” You pull your legs up, folding them underneath you. Yoongi gives you a look. “You know what I mean. College life is stressful and scary, Y/N. Are you ready to face all of that alone?” Yoongi stresses out, making you snort.

“I’m having my classes in lecture halls, Yoongi. Not my dorm room. Besides, Joon and I share most of the same classes together, so I’m not completely alone. Plus, you talk as if I won’t see you and the others everyday.” You point out, and Yoongi nods and shrugs, getting your point.

He stands up and walks over to sit beside you. You twist your body to look at him and he looks at you, sighing, as he pulls your head in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You smile softly at his gentle action, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Promise me you won’t die before the end of the first semester,” Yoongi whispers and you laugh, punching his stomach lightly. “Tell that to yourself, Min.”

Yoongi starts playing some of his songs while he helps you unpack. You talk occasionally but focus on getting the work done first so you can hang out with the other boys.

Min Yoongi had been your best friend from pretty much the moment you were conceived. Your parents – both moms and dads – were college buddies. They were the literal definition of friendship goals. Yoongi was a year older than you, but ever since you were both born, your parents always made the two of you bond together. Yoongi’s older brother hung out with your older brother, but they weren’t as close as you and Yoongi. When you were born, of course Yoongi’s family came to visit you and your mom at the hospital. Yoongi was barely two years old, but the moment his eyes fell on you, he fell in love. You were adorable and Yoongi already wanted someone to protect at such a young age. Yoongi was smitten for you the moment you were born. So, when you were a few months older, your parents organized play dates for the two of you already. Most of the time, you hung out at Yoongi’s place. His house was larger than yours by about two floors, so you had more playing space.

Yoongi was absolutely smitten for you – whatever it was that you wanted, for as long as you both could remember, Yoongi would hand it to you on a silver platter. You remember when you were both around six years old - you wanted to have his stuffed toy poodle, and even though it was Yoongi’s favorite stuffed toy, he didn’t hesitate to give it to you. No matter though, because years later, Yoongi bought an actual toy poodle that he named Holly.

Growing up, you were the loud, outgoing one, while Yoongi was on the quieter side. It wasn’t until high school when you became good friends with Hoseok, Seokjin, and his cousin Namjoon that Yoongi started breaking out of his shell. Hoseok and Seokjin were especially loud and they always made Yoongi laugh. Namjoon was loud too, but because the boy had a thing for destroying things in his path, he chose to be quieter so he wouldn’t attract too much attention from being so loud and breaking everything along the way. It was also in high school when you started to get shy – you were faced with the reality that you were a teenager already and that soon enough, you’d have to face the world without Yoongi by your side. Everything was starting to overwhelm you, so you turned to writing pieces of literary work. You thought back then that you’d end up alone, but you found yourself hitting it off really well with Namjoon, comparing famous literary works, writing your own pieces, and asking for constructive criticism from one another.

Your fun, lovable group of five stayed together all of high school, and now up until college. You were all so excited and happy to get accepted into the same art university, a three hour drive away from home. You’re taking up creative writing with Namjoon, Hoseok will take up dance, Seokjin with theatre, and Yoongi with music, majoring in piano.

In the middle of a Halsey song, Yoongi breaks your line of thought (which was just you singing along to Roman Holiday, anyway). 

“Hey, do you wanna go get some food with the guys? They’re downstairs.” You fix your ponytail and nod, smiling.

“Sure, I’m starving anyway.” Yoongi ruffles your head and grabs his stuff while you do the same. 

“Come on, it’s my treat.” Yoongi opens your door and lets you go out first. 

“It’s always your treat, Yoongi. When was it not?” Yoongi laughs at that. “True.”

“Make sure to turn them in before the end of next week, okay? I’ll be expecting a lot from you all; you seem like such a promising batch of writers,” Professor Bang says, making you and the rest of the class respond with “yes” and “okay”, just before you stand up to leave.

“Have you thought about what to write for your essay, Y/N?” Namjoon asks you as you both make your way outside the lecture hall along with the other students. 

You purse your lips in thought. Professor Bang wanted to start off the semester by making you write about anything that you were comfortable with. He wanted you to show him the things that you were concerned about, the things that were close to you, and you wanted to make sure you left a lasting impression in his class. Professor Bang was someone you could see yourself remembering for a long time, even if the seasons have changed and the days have gone by. He knew how to teach, not because he was smart, but because he was inspired, because he loves what he’s doing, and he wants to share that with students like you and Namjoon. He was a jolly person, but he also wanted to push you to your limits, something you’ve noticed during the hour and a half class with him that morning.

“Hm, I don’t really know yet. Maybe something about transitioning from being a teenager to an adult, the ups and downs that come along with it, the rush of it all. How about you?” You look up at the tall guy beside you, and he pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

“I want to write something about self-love, about what it means to love yourself, despite your flaws and imperfections.” You smile; Namjoon has always been the smartest in your group, always contemplating about things. He had a habit of thinking things through properly, instead of making rash or impulsive decisions.

“Professor Bang makes me want to wear my heart on my sleeve and I don’t know why. He’s that kind of teacher that you want to impress and show all your best sides to, but at the same time, you want to show him all your worst points too, because you know he won’t hold it against you or judge you for it,” Namjoon says your thoughts out loud, making you nod in agreement.

“I really want to do well in his class, I’ve already taken a liking to him,” You reply and suddenly, an arm slings around your shoulder. The familiar smell of his cologne wafts through your nose and you smile, turning to the boy standing beside you.

“Taken a liking to who?” Yoongi asks, raising his free hand up to Namjoon as a greeting. The taller boy raises his eyebrows smiling.

“Professor Bang. He’s like, our favorite teacher now.” You explain and Yoongi lets out an ‘aah’.

“Are you up for some lunch right now? Seokjin and Hobi are at this cool diner ten minutes away from here,” Yoongi asks the two of you and Namjoon shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

When you get to the diner, Seokjin and Hoseok are in another intense conversation again. “I’m telling you, Hobi! She was looking at my broad shoulders!” Seokjin explains dramatically, Hoseok’s eyes were wide as saucers as he sipped on his Sprite, listening to Seokjin. Seokjin leans back in his seat and says casually, “She might even be looking for ways to get my number right now.”

Walking up to them, Yoongi places a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and says, “She was probably staring at the alpacas resting on both shoulders as if they were your devil and angel.” Yoongi pats the alpaca heads sewn on Seokjin’s shoulders. Seokjin had a weird obsession for alpacas, it was insane.

“Why is it that all of you refuse to believe someone’s actually into me? Why do you all keep on insisting that it’s because of my fashion taste? Tsh,” Seokjin complains, scooting over so you can sit next to him. He pats your head and you bump his shoulder in response. Yoongi sits beside Hobi in front of you, and Joon takes the seat at the end of the table.

You give the exasperated man beside you a side hug as he picks up a chicken wing, groaning under his breath. “That’s okay, Seokjinnie. It’s just because they’ve never seen you actually charm the pants off someone,” You try to console him as he pouts while deboning his chicken.

“Oh, don’t boost his ego any further, Y/N,” Yoongi teases, making Hobi and Joon laugh. You pout and give him a look. “I’m not! You guys just don’t appreciate his visuals, right?” You coo and turn to look at Seokjin who finishes his chicken and puts it down, nodding furiously.

“Ah, come here, Y/N!” Seokjin pulls you in, his greasy fingers reaching out for you as you lean back, laughing. He glares at you but still pulls you in, careful to not stain your baby pink blouse. “I only care about Y/N in this friendship now, she’s the only one that can understand me. Look, she’s even wearing my favorite color!” Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh starts up.

Namjoon throws his head back, Hobi slams his hands on the table, and Yoongi’s shoulders shake as they laugh at their eldest friend’s antics. “Yes, now give me some love and feed me,” You reply, opening your mouth for Seokjin to feed you. The boy stops laughing, a serious look on his face replacing his huge grin earlier.

“Look, Y/N. I know I said I care about you, but this is MY chicken,” Seokjin explains seriously. You pout at that and Yoongi, your ever-loving best friend swoops in.

“Stop asking for food from him! He only cares about RJ, come on, I’ll get you food,” Yoongi stands up and you follow suit.

“Oh come on, why do you always treat Y/N out for food? What about us?” Your friends protest and Yoongi squints his eyes at them. “This is my best friend we’re talking about here,” he says matter-of-factly. “Then what are WE? Are we just trees to you now?” Hoseok whines and Namjoon snorts at that.

“You’re my friends, duh?” Yoongi shrugs and you laugh. “Come on, Y/N. You want some milkshake too?” Yoongi turns around.

Namjoon lets out an obvious cough. “Whipped,” he mutters and Hoseok and Seokjin laugh. Yoongi turns back around. “What was that?” he asks, and the boys shake their heads at him.

“Nothing,” Namjoon says casually. Yoongi shrugs, turns back around and pulls you with him to the counter.

Yoongi: something’s up with you. Meet me in the parking lot, we’re going somewhere

You sigh when you read Yoongi’s text. You text back a simple ‘okay, be there in a bit’, before making your way to the other side of the school. Even though you knew Yoongi your whole life, it still amazes you how much he can sense when something is wrong. You haven’t texted him yet about how terrible your day went, and here he is, sending the first text. You look up and think back to the events that happened an hour prior.

It’s the week after the deadline of your essay for Professor Bang’s class and during class that day, he returned your essays, red writings scribbled onto your notebooks. On top of yours, in a slightly messy handwriting were the words, “good job, y/n, see me after class please”. You smiled gently at that but then saw the long note he wrote on Namjoon’s. You were starting to doubt your work, so when class ended, you hastily made your way to the front of the room.

Professor Bang was fixing his things and you waited for the last student to walk out, giving Namjoon a close-lipped smile to let him know he should go ahead. He nods and you turn back around to face Professor Bang.

“Y/N, please sit down, kid,” Professor Bang tells you when he looks up, and you nod, grabbing a chair in the front row and bringing it closer to Professor Bang’s table. You gulp. Professor Bang was a short man, slightly on the chubbier side and had small eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled. He was absolutely adorable, but right now, you were starting to doubt that.

“Why did you call me over, Professor?” You ask timidly. Professor Bang scrunches his face up, removing his glasses as he sits comfortably. “It’s about your essay, Y/N.” He answers and you sit up straighter. “Um, what about it, Sir?”

“Do you remember what I told you when I gave you this assignment?” Professor Bang asks and you pause for a bit. 

“You, uh, told us to write about anything we were comfortable with; things that we were concerned about, things that were close to us,” You answer.

He nods. “But you know what else I said? I told you to write without restrictions, to write without thinking much about it,” he tells you and you frown lightly.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you mean, sir.” Professor Bang gives you a gentle smile.

“You wrote about something you were concerned about, correct? The transition of being a teenager to an adult,” he begins, and you nod. “You gave a wonderful essay, actually. But it had no soul, Y/N.” He says, leaving you confused. “When I read your essay you know what I thought? ‘This kid is smart, she’s talented, but she’s also trying too hard,” he explains and your heart drops.

Well. That hurt.

“In my class, Y/N, I want you to write for yourself, not for your grades. I want you to write because you want to, not because you want good grades, or because you want me to notice you. Believe me, I notice all of you. I know who you are when I read your essay. I know the kind of person you are, or you want to become. There are things you were keeping from me in your essay. There were also things you shouldn’t have included in your essay. You were keeping your true self from me. I want you to work on that, okay? Stop thinking about things that could happen in the future and start thinking about the things that could happen now. Focus on the now, rather than the later.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yoongi’s voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up, realizing you’ve mindlessly made it to the parking lot, and in front of his car, no less. You sigh and just look at him. Yoongi steps closer to you, extending his arm out to you. He’s wearing all black today, but the rainbow bracelet you made for him during an arts and craft class in the summer when you were only ten rests comfortably on his wrist.

“Come on, just you and me, yeah?” Yoongi asks you gently, and you nod, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. When you look up at him, you see other students from your peripheral vision stopping to look. Yoongi notices and squeezes your hand to get your attention. You look back at him and nod again. “Okay.”

Yoongi leads you over to your side of the car and he opens the door for you. You get in and he closes it behind you, casually walking around to his side. You see him wave to a few girls who soon giggle after the interaction and snort. Yoongi opens the door and gets in. He puts his key in the ignition and starts up the car.

“Who were those girls?” You ask, and Yoongi hums. “Some girls in my class, according to Seokjin they have the hots for me, but I don’t really know what that means.” You laugh as Yoongi pulls out of his parking space and you twist in your seat, folding your legs underneath you.

“Hey, watch it. I don’t want my seat getting dirt on it,” he calls you out, his eyes never leaving the road. You pout at him and drop your legs, a grin spreading across Yoongi’s face. 

“Just kidding. You can pull your feet up. I’ll just have it cleaned if ever, anyway.” You roll your eyes at your best friend.

“Wow, Min Yoongi sure loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of me, his very much broke and short on cash best friend, Y/L/N Y/N.” You proclaim sarcastically, and Yoongi laughs at you, casting you a side glance.

“Hmm, I think it’s more like, Min Yoongi loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of you, his very much broke and short on cash best friend Y/L/N Y/N because he loves you and would spend all of it on you anyway.” Yoongi tips his head at you and you shrug, nodding.

“True.”

Thirty minutes later, Yoongi stops at a cliff overlooking the entire town. The sun was just beginning to set, so you can just about imagine the beautiful scene painted in front of you.

You slowly make your way to the edge of the cliff and lean against the metal railings. You stare into the horizon, the wind blowing in your face. You soon close your eyes, your worries melting away as you just take it all in. You feel Yoongi’s presence beside you when his cologne wafts through your nose like usual. You hum softly.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask him quietly, your eyes still closed. 

Yoongi lets out a puff of air and shrugs. “I found this place last week when I didn’t have inspiration for a composition. It helps me clear my mind, you know. Being here. You were going through something, and I just kind of wanted to help ease your worries, I guess.” He explains softly. 

You open your eyes and turn to look at him.

To someone who hasn’t known Yoongi their whole life, he was the dark and always angry sort of guy, because he always gave off a dark vibe, wearing fine, expensive clothing that was most of the time black. He stood out among his friends because Hoseok was loud, bright, and giggly; Namjoon was silent, smart, and reserved; and Seokjin…well, he was loud, funny, and attractive. Yoongi was far too different to be part of their circle if you gave them a once over and left it at that alone. But you knew him your whole life. Yes, he did give off that vibe no matter what he did, yes, he stood out among his friends like a sore thumb, but nobody knew how soft and tender he was when it came to you. His friends feared him at times too; when he was in a particularly bad mood (although it was a rare), but never in life were you ever scared of him. 

Yoongi always made you feel safe.

And when you look at him now, it didn’t matter that he was wearing all black and probably looked like the typical rich kid bad boy in all those cliché teen novellas. It didn’t matter that he would probably punch someone in the face if they dared touch his Audi. Because when you look at Min Yoongi now, you only saw your best friend since diapers, you only saw the guy who promised to care for and protect you no matter what.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I really needed it,” you whisper, and he smiles at you, something other people don’t see often, but something you saw on the daily. He pulls you in for a hug and you rest your head comfortably on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps his around your shoulders.

“Whatever it was that bothered you, you’ll get through it. I know you can. You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.” Yoongi tells you and nod. He squeezes you gently and kisses the crown of your head.

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Anything for my Y/N.”

“Hey, guys, where’s Yoongi?” You greet Hoseok and Seokjin, as you and Namjoon sit down beside them at a table in the café your group has been frequenting at lately.

Seokjin stops eating his second serving of the banana muffin to look at you, a disappointed look on his face. 

“Yah, Y/N. Are you going to ask about Yoongi first before the people that actually invited you over?” Seokjin dramatically complains and you roll your eyes at your overly dramatic friend. You move to sit beside Hoseok instead and Namjoon sits beside the drama queen.

Just to spite him, you use Hoseok’s fork and stab a piece of his banana muffin, shoving it quickly in your mouth. You smirk when Seokjin gasps dramatically and faints, resting on Namjoon dramatically. No wonder he’s a theatre major. The younger boy rolls his eyes at his cousin but lets him stay there.

“He’s in one of the studios, he’s busy composing,” Hoseok answers your question. You give him a hug and he giggles at your action. “Thanks Hobi, you’re definitely not like that dramatic hoe across from me.”

Upon hearing you call him a dramatic hoe, Seokjin sits up straight. Just as he’s about to cry out another complaint, three girls walk up to your table, stopping Seokjin.

“Hi, Seokjin,” the girl in the middle greets, a sweet smile on her face. You bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. Seokjin flashes her a charming smile, which you must admit, does look great on him. 

“Hey, Sana,” he greets coolly. Namjoon and Hoseok just watch, and Seokjin revels in the fact that his friends can finally see him charm a girl.

“So there’s this new movie coming out after finals next week, um, do you maybe wanna watch it together sometime?” She asks as her friends giggle. 

Seokjin casts his friends side glance, smirking. Hoseok scratches the back of his head, that look on his face, and Namjoon just looks back and forth between Seokjin and the girl. 

You can only purse your lips, resisting the urge to laugh.

Seokjin shrugs. “Sure,” Sana bites her lip and smiles. 

“And Namjoon and Hoseok can come along too!” Her other two friends nod eagerly, and yours, Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s jaws drop. 

“Yeah, they’re coming along too,” Seokjin answers for them and all three of you snap your heads to look at him. What the fuck is he doing? Hoseok slaps a hand to his forehead and Namjoon can only hide his face in his hands.

The girls don’t seem to notice their discomfort about the arrangement because they even ask about Yoongi. “Is he coming along too? My other friend really likes him,” Sana says and just as you’re about to say something, Hoseok jumps in. 

“Um, I don’t think Yoongi hyung would appreciate that, he’s already dating someone.” 

You, Seokjin, and Namjoon all whip your heads to look at Hoseok.

“Really? But I’ve never seen him out with someone,” Sana’s friend, asks and Hoseok gulps, nodding. 

“He’s very private about their relationship, you see,” he chuckles nervously. 

The girls pout. “Well, that’s too bad. Anyway, I’ll text you?” Sana turns back to Seokjin who nods. She smiles at him and they say goodbye before walking away. 

Once they’re out of earshot, you turn to each other and both Hoseok and Namjoon turn to Seokjin. 

“What the hell man?!” 

Seokjin raises his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I scored you guys dates. They’ve been head over heels for you since like, midterms, have you never seen them look at you before?” Seokjin asks and the two groan.

“Of course we have! But we don’t know them!” Namjoon stresses. “Then this is the perfect time to get to know them!” Seokjin rebuts. 

“They’re not our type, hyung. Do you even know who likes who?” Hoseok cries out. Seokjin pauses, then looks up in thought. “Well, no… but—” Hoseok cuts him off.

“See! Why would you go out on a date if you’re not sure whether they like you or your friend?” Hoseok asks him. Seokjin snorts. 

“Yah! At least I didn’t tell them Yoongi was seeing someone when he clearly wasn’t!” At that, you look up from your phone, having given up on joining their conversation earlier.

What a great way to change the topic.

Hoseok sits back and sighs, closing his eyes, knowing he fucked up too. He rubs his temples, clearly exhausted.

“Yeah, what was that about, Hobi?” Namjoon joins in. You can only sit properly in your seat and turn to look at the boy beside you. Hoseok opens his eyes and decides, ‘ah, fuck it’, as he crosses his hands in front of him.

“Yoongi’s not seeing anyone, sure, but he soon will.”

The three of you furrow your eyebrows, not quite sure what Jung Hoseok meant. 

Noticing the confused looks on your faces, he sips his peppermint latte and looks at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head.

“I think it’s obvious enough that he’s smitten for you.” You snort at his statement and turn to look at Namjoon and Seokjin, who both catch on and soon have the same expressions on their faces, one that makes it look like they know something you don’t.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, confused. Namjoon sighs and you turn to look at him. “Yoongi likes you, Y/N. He may not know it right now, but he will.” You laugh nervously and shake your head. “No, he doesn’t. He’s always been like that with me, guys.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “It’s always been you. It’s always been different whenever you were involved. Yoongi’s different when you’re around.” 

“But, how?” You ask, still clearly confused. You honestly didn’t know what they were talking about. Nothing made sense to you; what did they mean by Yoongi being different when you were around? Yoongi’s still Yoongi.

“What’s so wrong with Yoongi liking you, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing, I just don’t quite understand. How can Yoongi be different around me?” Seokjin sighs and fixes his hair.

“You’re both so dense, I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” he complains. “You’ll realize it eventually. I won’t spoon feed you both on this. It’s time for you to figure that part out for yourselves.” Seokjin finishes his muffin.

“Okay, I better get going, I have to meet up with some of my classmates, we’re revising for the finals next week,” Seokjin stands up and pats your head as he grabs his stuff. You all say goodbye to him and he heads out.

The three of you stay for a little bit longer before you decide to head out. The sun was already beginning to set. You say goodbye to Hoseok and Namjoon; Hoseok had to stop by the dance studio and Namjoon was heading for the library.

Finals week is next week but you were in no mood to study and review for it just yet. The events from earlier kept clouding your thoughts and you didn’t know what to think of it all. So, instead of heading for the library, you make your way to the field where you see other students sitting together in groups, talking, studying, and hanging out amongst themselves. 

You make your way under a huge tree and sit down, placing your books and backpack beside you as you lean on the tree trunk. Folding your legs, you wrap your arms around your shins, resting your head on the space between your knees.

You allow your mind to drift off and think of Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok’s words from earlier. Of course Yoongi likes you, you’re his best friend. But Yoongi liking you in a different sense? You weren’t so sure about that. Sure, he’s affectionate and overprotective with you, but that’s probably because he sees you like a little sister.

But then again, you do notice that Yoongi really is different with how he treats you, ever since you were little.

“Y/N! Come sit beside me, I wanna show you something,” an adorable, 5-year old Min Yoongi with a few missing teeth beckons you to come sit beside him on the piano chair, his small legs dangling underneath him. You make your way over to him, your fingers still slightly sticky from the lollipop you just ate. You clamber up the piano chair, courtesy of the small stool placed next to it.

Yoongi grins at you and you merely look at him, before your eyes drift over to the white music sheets laid out in front of him. Your best friend was a prodigy and you knew that. The slightly shaky handwriting of his musical notes on the sheets were enough evidence for you to know that he composed it himself.

“What’s that, Yoongi?” you finally say, pressing a sticky pointer finger to the white sheet music. Yoongi gently takes your hand off the paper and places it back onto your lap as he looks at you with a bright smile on your face.

“I made this song for you, Y/N! I want you to listen to it carefully, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you grin excitedly.

Yoongi turns to face his piano properly and ever so delicately, he places his fingers on the black and white keys, his fingers dancing over them so effortlessly. It didn’t matter that his hands were still a bit too short for the huge piano, he still hit each and every note with precision. A beautiful melody fills the room and your eyes brighten up at the sound of it.

When Yoongi finishes, you tackle him in a hug, not caring about your sticky face or fingers at all.

“That was pretty, Yoongi!” he giggles at your reaction and hugs you back with the same enthusiasm.

You smile fondly at the memory, that was the very first song Yoongi ever composed, and he was only five. He made it for you and even named it after you. Up to this day, that was your favorite composition of Yoongi’s.

The wind picks up and your hair blows not so gracefully in your face. You sputter after your hair gets stuck in your mouth and a melodious laughter comes from behind you. You turn around and sure enough, your best friend is standing there, a bright gummy smile on his face. His shoulders are shaking slightly as he laughs at your expression and walks closer to you.

You scoot over and make some space for him. Yoongi flops down beside you, letting out a relaxed sigh after doing so. He gives you a side hug, patting the top of your head and you line your head on his shoulder.

“How did composing go?” you bring up and he clicks his tongue. “It went great, I think I’m ready for finals next week. How about you?” Yoongi gives you his full attention. 

You shrug and he nudges you to continue.

“I’m having a hard time in Professor Bang’s class. I’m finding it hard to write anything without it coming off as trying too hard or with no effort at all. He wants me to write about me but I don’t quite get it. It’s been on my mind ever since you brought me to that cliff a few weeks ago. I’m never proud with the things I write and although Professor Bang doesn’t say much anymore, I can still feel that he’s still not contented with my work. He’s still looking for something,” you sigh and Yoongi squeezes your shoulder gently.

“You wanna know my secret?” Yoongi begins and you snort. 

“What are we, five?” Yoongi laughs. “You need to wear your heart on your sleeve. You need to let your guard down, Y/N. That’s how I compose such great songs. Being an artist kind of means like presenting yourself naked to your audience.”

You give him a look. 

“What I’m trying to say is, you shouldn’t hide who you are from your audience. You also shouldn’t try too hard to please or satisfy them. Go for what makes you happy. Go for what makes you sad, or angry, or frustrated, or confused. Don’t go for what makes them happy, sad, angry, frustrated, or confused. Your audience’s feelings will just follow through, you have to make them feel what you feel.”

You look at him in amazement, your lips parting slightly. Yoongi gives you a confused look. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Now I know why you’re my best friend.” You proclaim and he grins at you.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You better, Min.”

Later that night, you pull out the worn journal that Yoongi gave you for your thirteenth birthday, something he bought on a trip with his family in Greece. You treasured it so much, because most of your favorite writings were in there and it’s been a witness to your best and worst moments. Your fingers trace the worn out pages, a smile growing on your face as you skim through your writings. 

You didn’t stick to one kind of literary work; you wrote whatever came to your mind. There were scribbles and doodles, and you even found some pages stained with tears, ink, and… chocolate?

Damn, you were quite the messy kid, weren’t you?

You reach a blank page and pull out a random pen - which turned out to have pink ink, from your pouch.

You pull the cap out and stick it in the other end, your hand hovering over the page, hesitating. You remember Professor Bang’s words and Yoongi’s advice from earlier. 

Slowly, you put your pen down and your fingers start writing the first few lines to a new piece.

Maybe it was the way he constantly made me smile,

Maybe it was how he’d always go the extra mile,

“It’s different when you’re involved,” they said,

You started filling up every corner and every crevice of my head.

Was this how it was supposed to be,

Should it have been you and me?

Well, you always left me lost in a trance,

So maybe we should give this love a chance.

You stop writing and your eyes scan what you wrote. Your lips part open slightly at the realization of what you just wrote. Were you writing about Yoongi? Was this what the boys were talking about?

You’re not quite sure about it, but you might just already be in love with Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, and young little Y/N was already bored to death. You and Yoongi were supposed to be in the middle of a game of snakes and ladders, but the young boy had left the playroom to get something from his room. He hasn’t returned for only five minutes, yet you thought it felt like an entire lifetime.

Getting up from your spot on the floor, you make your way over to Yoongi’s grand piano sat in the corner of the large room. You eye pieces of paper lying on the floor, musical notes scribbled on it. 

Young, 3-year old you knew nothing about music, but the way the notes were scribbled on the paper left you intrigued. You crouched down, picked one up from the pile and brought it back with you to your previous spot, where your crayons were sprawled all over the floor messily.

You flop down with a huff and lies flat on your stomach, the sheet music in front of you . You pick up your chubby red crayon and bring it over the paper, pressing lightly as you start doodling all over Yoongi’s composition.

In the middle of your artwork, Yoongi walks in the room with a pink box and he gasps when he sees his best friend scribble over the composition he just finished yesterday.

“Y/N, no!” He drops the box and runs over to you as fast as his little feet can carry him. 

At the sound of Yoongi’s voice, you stop doodling and turn around, sitting up when you see Yoongi running over to you. Yoongi quickly grabs the sheet, his eyes frantically looking over the sheet music that was now covered with red doodles.

Yoongi’s eyes begin to water and although you didn’t quite understand it all, you knew that your best friend was upset. His bottom lip begins to tremble, and soon, tears flow from his eyes and he lets out a cry as he looks at his destroyed composition.

The sound of footsteps soon come closer and you turn around, seeing your mom and Yoongi’s mom walk in the room with confused looks on their faces. They spot the children sat on the floor and their eyes take in the scene in front of them - Yoongi was clutching a piece of paper in his hands, crying, and you were looking up at them, a confused look on your face mirroring theirs. 

“What happened here?” Your mom asks as they both bend down to you and Yoongi.

Yoongi turns to look at his mom as he cries. “Y/N scribbled all over my sheet music.” He crawls over to his mom and hugs her, hiding his face in her chest as he continues to cry. 

Both his mom and your mom turn to look at you, and it’s then that you realize it’s your fault. Tears fill your eyes as well and you stand up to hug your mom too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you cry, hiding from Yoongi and his mom, ashamed of what you’d done.

At the sound of your crying, Yoongi stops crying and turns to look at you. He steps away from his mom and waddles over to you, his small hands reaching out to grab your arm.

“No, no, don’t cry, too.” He sniffles and he pulls you to face him. 

Reluctantly, you turn to face him and you try to stop crying as Yoongi squishes your face in his hands.

“It’s okay, I can do it again,” he tells you and you shake your head no.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi! It won’t happen again,” You cry and Yoongi can only nod. He pulls you with him, and he leads the both of you over to the grand piano. Yoongi gives you a side hug and he places his fingers on the black and white keys. Yoongi begins to play your favorite song, the very first one he wrote for you, snot and tears and all that.

You sniffle and calm down when you hear the familiar comforting melody. You wipe your snot away and rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Your moms watch the scene in front of them, knowing smiles on their faces.

“If our kids don’t end up together, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Your mom whispers to Yoongi’s mom as they leave the room.

Yoongi’s mom snorts. “Don’t worry, because by the looks of it, my son’s smitten as hell and he’s only five.”

Your mom laughs at that. “True.”

“Woah, are you okay, bubs?” Yoongi asks worriedly when he steps inside your dorm room and takes in the sight before him. 

Books and notebooks are open sprawled around your bed and on the floor, your pens and highlighters open and probably all dried up, your hair was tied up in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been brushed properly since this morning, and your laptop open in front of you while you sit on your computer chair, your left leg folded underneath you and your right leg stretched out all the way to your bed. Your laptop was playing Day6’s Congratulations, and you were furiously typing away, cramming through your essays that were also due during finals week.

Your glasses fall down the bridge of your nose and you sigh, taking them off before you turn around to greet your best friend.

“Hey, Yoons, what’s up?” You smile tiredly at him, reaching over your bed to push away your books and notebooks to make room for your best friend to sit down on.

You chuckle as he sits down, scratching your hair. “Sorry about the mess, I didn’t have the time to fix it earlier.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. But you should really take a break, don’t overwork yourself,” Yoongi smiles and ruffles your hair, making you laugh. You spot the gray flask in his left hand and your eyes widen.

“Is that soju?” You gasp and Yoongi nods. You lean forward and snatch the flask from him, twisting the cap open. You pour some of the alcoholic drink onto the cap and down it all in one go, the strong taste burning down your throat. You think that maybe Yoongi meant to bring this for you and not for him, because it’s your favorite flavor, classic. Yoongi could never tolerate the classic flavor of soju and he always opted for the fresh one.

Yoongi simply watches you take shot after shot of the alcoholic drink and smiles, knowing you’ll get a hangover the next day. Nevermind though, because he’ll take care of you anyway, and your first exam isn’t until 2:00 pm tomorrow. 

Once you’ve finished the entire bottle, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, grinning drunkenly at your best friend. He smirks at the sight of you and stands up to save your work. He closes your laptop and crouches down to look at you. 

“You’re such an alcoholic, Y/L/N Y/N.” Yoongi comments and you can only giggle.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You pat his cheek, and knock out dead on your desk, snoring away as your head rests on your laptop. Y/L/N Y/N is out like a light at 5:22 pm.

Yoongi’s gummy smile makes its appearance as you sleep soundly, without a care in the world. He turns around and stares at the mess cluttering around your room. Yoongi bends down and starts cleaning; he picks up your pens and highlighters and puts the caps back on, although he doubts that they’d still work (maybe you bought those kind that would last for up to 48 hours uncapped but he wasn’t so sure, knowing you), and he closes your books, making sure to stick in bookmarks in case those pages were important. He stacks your stuff on the extra table beside your desk and fixes your bed for you to sleep in.

Yoongi turns around and he laughs softly at the sight of your drool running down the side of your arm. Yoongi crouches down and he brushes the hair away from your face. Upon taking a closer look at you, he can see how much you’ve stressed yourself out this week. 

The dark circles under your eyes, the messy hair, and the way you snored were enough to tell Yoongi that you were dead tired. Even your drool told Yoongi that you were exhausted, because you only ever drooled in your sleep when you were worn out.

Yoongi carefully helps you out of your chair and onto your bed, where he tucks you in snugly. He turns the lights off and leaves only your night light on. Yoongi sits down beside you and simply admires the way you sleep (it’s not as creepy as you think it is!).

Yoongi watches the way your chest heaves up and down as your breathe slowly, soft snores leaving your lips. He watches the way a small smile is etched onto your lips, making you look so sweet and so innocent, like you didn’t just down an entire flask of soju in one go. He watches the way you shift to a more comfortable position, pushing your face further into your pillow.

And as Yoongi watches you sleep so peacefully, he realizes that he can get used to this - get used to watching you fall asleep, and maybe, just maybe, fall asleep with you. Yoongi thinks that if seeing you fall asleep makes him want to fall asleep with you, then maybe the idea of waking up with you isn’t so bad, either.

A soft mumble leaves your lips and you start to babble nonsense, things like “after the falling action is the denouement, and yay, the end”, and Yoongi smiles. 

Without realizing it, Yoongi leans forward, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good night, Y/N.”

His heart flutters at his own action, and Yoongi smiles when he realizes it.

“I love my best friend. I love Y/N. I love you,” Yoongi whispers to himself, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form.

You are never drinking before an exam ever again. 

Your head is throbbing and you can’t move because every small action makes your head feel like it’s about to break. You can totally place the blame on your best friend because he didn’t stop you from downing the entire flask, but at the same time, it’s all your fault for even drinking in the first place when you knew you had an exam the following day.

You close your eyes and shield it with your arm as the 7:00 am sunlight streams in through the bedroom windows. Your stomach is grumbling and you realize that you didn’t even eat dinner last night because you fell asleep at 5:00 pm after drinking.

You badly want to get up and go find something to eat in your stash but like we’ve already established earlier, you can’t. So you endure your hunger until the hangover goes away. If it goes away.

The door opens and your savior walks through the door.

Thank God for Min Yoongi.

“Oh, you’re awake already. I brought you some aspirin and hangover food,” he greets you, closing the door shut behind him gently. Yoongi places his stuff on your chair as he makes his way over to you, helping you sit up. You’re groaning and clutching onto your best friend’s shoulders because you can’t bring yourself to sit up properly. 

Yoongi’s arms wound around your waist and - oh, come on, why now - butterflies erupt in your stomach, along with the acid and the hunger (okay that’s kinda gross). You scoot over to the wall and Yoongi places a pillow behind you to separate your back from the cold, hard wall.

Boyfriend material, anybody?

Yoongi opens the bottled water he bought and places a tablet of aspirin on your weakly opened palm. You take the medicine and finish the entire bottle of water, refreshing yourself completely.

Your head feels a bit better now and the pain is now tolerable. “Ugh, don’t make me drink before an exam again,” you groan and lean forward, clutching onto your stomach as you rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi chuckles and although your head’s aching at his action, you like hearing his laugh. He strokes your hair gently and you scoot closer to him, practically clinging onto him.

“You wanna eat?” Yoongi asks you and you nod from your place in the crook of his neck. Yoongi reaches over to get your food. He starts feeding you saltine crackers and fruits and coconut milk and you think it’s weird but according to him it’s good for a hangover.

While you take small bites from the banana, Yoongi focuses all his attention on you. The sun shines on you in just the right spot; it hits your eyes perfectly that the natural color pops out prettily. Your cheeks are puffed out slightly and you chew on your banana in complete concentration.

You soon feel his gaze on you and your heart speeds up upon realizing it. Your senses are unbelievably heightened while you’re hungover, apparently. You swallow your last piece of the banana carefully before looking up at Yoongi.

When you do, a smile is on his lips and he looks at you with this strange look on his face; you’re not sure what it is, exactly. You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“What?”

Yoongi shakes his head and he cups your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb gently along your cheek. His action causes more butterflies to erupt in your stomach, and at this point, you’re not sure if you want to vomit or eat some more.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi whispers, his eyes never leaving yours.

You really can’t understand your best friend right now and you also don’t want to get your hopes up, so you laugh it off.

“I know I am, especially when I’m hungover,” you joke and you think Yoongi’s smile falters a bit, but he quickly covers it up with a grin.

He clears his throat, and stands up. You follow his actions, and he pats your shoulder gently.

“Get a few more hours of rest, you’ll feel better just before your exam, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you pout, making him want to just ditch his 8:30 exam to stay with you a little longer.

“Won’t you stay with me?” You tug on the hem of his yellow hoodie (wow, a change if wardrobe for finals week?), and he shakes his head ‘no’.

“Unfortunately, not everyone has exams that start at 2:00 pm. I’ve got my first one at 8:30 and it’s already 7:45. The building’s three blocks away from here, too.” Yoongi explains and you nod in understanding.

“That’s fine, good luck on your exam,” you reply, and Yoongi leans down to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

“Get some rest, love.” Yoongi whispers, making your heart speed up at the endearment.

“I will.” You assure him and he cups your face in his hands, rubbing your cheeks gently with the pads of his thumbs.

“I’ll call you, okay?” Yoongi asks and you smile, nodding.

He stands back up to his full height and makes his way to the door. He gives you one last smile before twisting the doorknob and stepping out.

The door closes and you wait for a few more beats before you sigh. 

Yes, you were definitely in love with your best friend and it wasn’t the heightened senses that came with the hangover.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Hoseok claps his hands together excitedly, earning an eye roll from Seokjin and a smile from Namjoon. Yoongi can only stare at his friends in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘I knew it’?” Yoongi asks and the three boys look at each other, sighing simultaneously.

“Hyung, everyone can see how much you’re in love with her, except the both of you. Have you never read those cliché best friends to lovers trope on Tumblr?” Hoseok asks and Yoongi merely shrugs.

“I don’t have time for that shit,” Yoongi deadpans.

“But you have time for Y/N,” Seokjin points out.

“Because he’s whipped, you guys,” Namjoon adds in.

“Whatever,” Yoongi dismisses his friends comments. “All I know is that I love her. I really, really, do.” Yoongi confesses.

“Then tell her!” His friends say in unison.

“I will! I’m just,” Yoongi pauses and they look at him expectantly. 

He looks at them before continuing, “I’m just trying to find the right time to confess, I think she feels the same way.”

Seokjin flips his bangs and sighs. “Not think, but know. It’s obvious how much you both love each other, Yoongi. Literally anyone with two eyes and common sense can see that.”

“Except maybe for those girls the other week,” Namjoon coughs into his shoulder and Hoseok bursts out in laughter, holding his hand up for a high five which Namjoon gladly reciprocates.

“Yah, don’t be mean, I think they’re really nice,” Seokjin defends them and Yoongi shakes his head at them.

Namjoon and Hoseok turn their attention to Yoongi and forget about the handsome elder. 

“So, do you need our help with confessing?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi looks up in thought. “I haven’t really thought that far yet, all I know is that I want it to be something she’ll never forget.”

“You can maybe write her a song?” Hoseok suggests.

“I write her songs all the time,” Yoongi points out.

“Maybe you can take her out somewhere and prepare this really extravagant surprise,” Namjoon tries.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Y/N’s not into that, remember? I need this to be perfect,” he stresses.

Yes, Min Yoongi was hands down whipped for you because instead of worrying about his next exam set to happen in thirty minutes, he’s busy worrying about how he’s going to confess to you.

His friends sigh. 

“Hyung, I think you should take a break. Go prepare for your exams, yeah?” Namjoon suggests and Yoongi gives in.

“You’re right, I have one in thirty minutes.”

Hoseok smiles and stands up. “I’ve gotta go, mine’s in fifteen minutes.”

“And you’re that chill?” Namjoon looks amazed. Hoseok grins.

“The perks of being a dance major, baby,” Hoseok shrugs casually before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and making his way out of the café.

Seokjin lets out a relaxed sigh. “I’m all done for the day, so I’m going to go eat something somewhere and think of how you can confess to Y/N.” Yoongi gives his hyung an appreciative smile.

“Thanks, hyung, but don’t you have exams to prepare for?” Seokjin snorts.

“I studied all of last week, I think I’m all done. One more and I might actually go crazy.” Yoongi and Namjoon laugh at that.

Yoongi makes his move to stand up. “I’ll see you guys later, good luck.” He pats the guys on the back before he leaves.

On the short walk to his building, Yoongi pulls his phone out and presses on speed dial 1, of course, the one and only Y/L/N Y/N.

Y/N picks up after three rings.

“Hey, why’d you call?” Y/N’s sweet voice rings through the phone and a smile automatically makes its way to Yoongi’s face. 

“Hey, how are you feeling, bubs?” Yoongi inquires.

“All better, thanks to you! Although I’m kind of starving, I have an hour and a half before my first test,” Y/N chirps.

“Joon and Jin hyung are at the café, maybe you can go grab something to eat with them, I have an exam in twenty minutes,” Yoongi informs her.

“Okay! Good luck on that, you’ll do great,” Y/N tells him sweetly.

“Aaah, I know I will. You’re my lucky charm,” Yoongi smirks and he can just see Y/N’s blushing cheeks from the way she started to stutter.

“Uh...ha ha, okay, uh, gotta go, Yoons! Bye!” She immediately hangs up and Yoongi chuckles when he hears the line drop dead.

Yoongi shakes his head and slides his phone back into his pocket as he walks inside the music building.

The smile never leaves his face, even as he starts to answer his test all the way until he finishes it. The people he shared that class with started to worry for his mental health, because Yoongi never smiled this much, never smile this genuine. Well, he did smile occasionally, but there was something different with the way Yoongi carried himself that day that left his classmates slightly concerned for him.

“Hey, Yoongi. You alright, man?” Kyungsoo, a friend he talks to occasionally in his class asks.

Yoongi nods, a smile on his lips. “Yeah, why?”

Kyungsoo looks at him weirdly. He laughs it off. “Nothing. Just, if you need someone to talk to, I’m all ears,” Kyungsoo pats him on the back.

It’s Yoongi’s turn to look at him weirdly. “Huh, okay, Soo. Thanks.” Kyungsoo nods and leaves the room, just as a beep comes from his phone.

It wasn’t just any beep, it was your ringtone. Yoongi had set specific ringtones for your texts and calls, so he’d know if he has to answer the call right away or not.

Yes, Min Yoongi was both smitten and biased when it came to you.

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : hello there

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : are your exams done? im kinda hungry

Just seeing your contact name — which you set, not him, already sent a smile crawling up his lips.

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : yea, see u

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : hoseok still has one exam left, I’ll meet u and joon there

He begins making his way back to the café, navigating his way through the students and the hallways with his phone in his hands.

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : it’s just me, joon says he still has something to do

Yoongi wishes he can go give Kim Namjoon a hug (but he would never admit that in front of him) right now.

Yoongi [3:08 pm] : okay lol

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : see u there :DD

When Yoongi reaches the café,you’re already sitting in your usual spot, going over some of your notes while you sip on your iced latte. Yoongi walks over, a soft smile on his lips. He knocks on the table gentle. You look up, and a smile immediately graces your features.

“Hey, how was your exam?” You greet as Yoongi sits down in front of you.

“It went really well, how about yours?” Yoongi inquires as he reaches forward to hold your right hand, playing with your fingers while he waits for your response.

You blush at the action and Yoongi marvels at your flustered reaction. You soon brush it off like it was nothing and take a sip from your drink to, hopefully, help cool down your flaming cheeks.

“Great, too! I hope I really poured all of my heart into it that Professor Bang will be proud of it,” you reply and Yoongi squeezes your hand gently.

“I’m sure you did, you worked hard last night,” Yoongi reassures you and you laugh.

“I’m pretty sure I got wasted last night, Yoongi.” He laughs at your retort, agreeing with you.

“Yeah, I know, but I think you did study before I arrived with the soju.” Yoongi’s reply makes the two of you laugh.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Yoongi.” You give him a gentle smile.

He returns it with one of his own. “Anything for you, Y/N.”

Were you dense? Or was Yoongi not obvious enough? No, that can’t be it. He’s very transparent with his feelings for you, right? Min Yoongi can’t seem to understand why you don’t seem to notice his advances on you. At all. 

Finals week was done and over with, and for an entire week Yoongi has been trying to get you to see how much he likes you. Even during the break, Yoong did everything; he took you out on dates, gave you more gifts than usual, paid more attention to you (if he was attentive before, he got even more attentive now), and flirted with you every chance he got.

But it’s the start of the second semester now and he still hasn’t confessed to you yet. 

“I’m telling you, hyung! It’s like she pays no attention to anything I do at all. Are you guys sure she feels the same way?” Yoongi stresses, ranting to the broad shouldered male sat in front of him. The other two younger boys look at each other, giving each other that I’m tired, he’s spewing nonsense again look before grabbing Yoongi’s attention.

“Yes, she does! She probably thinks you’re just being your normal self around her,” Namjoon responds.

“But I’m not being my normal self around her…?” Yoongi trails off.

The boys sigh. “You are, you’re normally affectionate with her, Yoongi. So Y/N thinks you’re just being you,” Seokjin adds.

“Yeah, hyung. Y/N doesn’t think anything’s changed at all. Well, maybe she thinks you’re a bit more affectionate but she’s just probably just brushing it off as you being you.”  Hoseok pipes in.

“Then what do I do?” Yoongi asks, clearly pressed about everything.

Just then, the bell to the café’s door rings noisily and the four turn around to see Y/N rushing over to them. 

“Speak of the devil,” Namjoon mutters and Yoongi stares a him. “She’s not a devil, Joon.” Namjoon slaps his forehead.

“It’s an expression, hyung --” Namjoon’s cut off when you blurt out, “I need food.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow at you. “There’s food? Over there?” He points toward the cashier. You look over to where his index finger is pointing before turning back to them, shaking your head.

“I have class in like, 15 minutes, but I was hungry so I ran over here - because my building’s all the way on the other side - to buy something but when I was a few steps away from the door I realized I forgot my wallet at the dorms and the dorms are even farther away and I don’t have much of a choice anymore because if I still tried going back that would take me another 10 minutes or so and like I said, I only have 15 minutes and I’m really hungry so I can’t go back anymore and I just really need money for food.” You finish all in one breath, heaving lightly because you’re out of breath from running and explaining yourself.

The four look at you before Yoongi shifts in his seat, pulling his card out for you.

“Here, go buy something,” he holds it out to you. Your eyes lighten, and just as your about to take it, a light bulb goes off in Yoongi’s head and he withdraws his outstretched hand, halting your actions.

“What?” You ask, slightly agitated. 

Yoongi smirks. “Kiss me first.”

Your eyes widen, Kim Seokjin’s eyes widen, Kim Namjoon’s eyes widen, and Jung Hoseok’s eyes widen.

Wait, what?

A blush creeps up your cheeks, your palms start to clam up, and your heart starts beating faster. Oh, and your stomach grumbles for the umpteenth time too.

Yoongi only looks at you, the smirk still on his face, and his credit card resting in between his index and middle finger, just close enough for you to reach if you moved just a tad bit closer.

If you kiss Yoongi, he’ll definitely know your feelings for him. If you don’t it would make things awkward between the two of you. If you kiss him, at least you’d get food, right?

Yoongi’s starting to slightly regret his impulsive decision, but he freezes when you just go for it, and lean down to kiss his cheek, snatching the card in his fingers before you run out.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hoseok manages to speak up and Yoongi snaps out of his trance.

“Dude, what the fuck, go after her!” Hoseok shakes Yoongi who soon realizes what’s really going on. He stands up abruptly and goes after you.

“Wow, they’re a mess,” Seokjin comments as they watch Yoongi through the glass of the cafe.

“Come on, let’s go after them,” Namjoon stands up and Seokjin and Hoseok follow suit.

“Y/N, wait!” Yoongi calls out to you and when you hear his voice, you skid to a halt in the middle of the field, where some dance majors are running a routine. You attract the attention of the dance majors and they stop dancing to look at you. Clutching Yoongi’s credit card in your hand, you slowly turn around to face him.

He’s running over to you and he’s panting. When he’s close enough, he leans forward and rests his hands on his knees.

“You’re going to be late to class anyway, just, listen to me,” Yoongi wheezes out.

You bite your lip, your heart racing as you stare at the boy in front of you. When he finally catches his breath, he stands back up to his full height and looks at you.

“Yoongi, listen,I--” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, I know you’re going to be late, I’m sorry but wait, just...let me get this off my chest because I might explode if I don’t let this out anymore, okay?” He holds you by the shoulders and you can only nod, flustered and confused at the same time.

From his peripheral, Yoongi can see a small crowd starting to form, he can see the boys somewhere too and the dance majors all stopped dancing to look at you both.

Oh, well.

Yoongi breathes deeply before he fixes his eyes on you and on you alone. 

Here it goes.

“Y/L/N YN, I love everything about you. I love the way you eat your ramen with a spoon instead of chopsticks because you’re always complaining about how your fingers hurt because you’re not the best at using chopsticks even though you’re supposed to be good at it, I mean gosh, you’re Korean you’re supposed to know that shit. I love how you can’t fall asleep without your blue and white flannel blanket because it’s the only blanket your body seems to like. I love how even though it’s beginning to smell so bad because of your drool and the food crumbs and the drinks that fall on it you still choose to use it. I love how you also sleep with that one pillow of yours that’s been there the moment I walked into the hospital room to see you bundled up in Auntie’s arms, eyes closed and without a care in the world because you were just born moments ago, and it’s so old that it’s not so fat and fluffy anymore, and oh, it also smells so bad too, seriously what is it with you and your things in bed smelling bad? Can they seriously not get washed? I love how you never use a brush to fix your hair because you’re that kind of person that just runs a hand through their hair a couple of times and you’re already good to go. I love how you scrunch your face up every time you insult one of the boys, every time you want to tease me, and every time you have your way because yet again, I’ve fallen victim to your ridiculous wishes and ideas. I love how every time you put food into your mouth, you’re pouting and chewing at the same, fuck, do you know what that fucking does to me, Y/N? It makes me go crazier and even more head over heels for you. I love how you always come to me for everything because you know that I’d never ever say no to you, it makes me feel like I matter so much to you. I love that you depend so much on me because yes, I want that so much, I want to spoil you so damn much. I love giving you all that you want, I love spoiling with anything that you want and need, no matter how stupid or out of this world or irrational it may be. I love it so much because I love the way your eyes light up like a thousand stars whenever I say yes, and fuck that’s so, so fucking cheesy but I don’t fucking care anymore because I’m pretty sure I’ve said too much that it’s enough to complete one whole damn song and I know I can’t sing but I can play the piano and compose songs so maybe I can rap too? And dammit, Y/N, I’ve loved you so much since the moment I probably first laid my eyes on you, or maybe when I wrote my first song for you and you asked me to play it for you every day. Hell, I may have even started loving you when you scribbled all over my sheet music with your big fat, red crayon. I love how you’re so selfless, how you get along with my boys, how you’re damn smart and ambitious but you’d much rather watch How I Met Your Mother and listen to angsty Day6 songs for hours on end while you wrote equally angsty prose and poetry. I love you every time you get wasted the night before an exam, drinking your stress and worries away with soju, complain about the hangover the next day and do it all over again despite promising to never do it again. I love that even though it gets you wasted because that just gives me an excuse to take care of you and have I told you that I love taking care of you? I love you for everything that you are and I’d fucking say more but dammit, we’re in public and people…people are beginning to record my confession, they were just looking at us…wait what the fuck? And I’m a blushing, stuttering mess and I’ve just poured my entire heart out to you, all these feelings I’ve kept bottled up since I was, I don’t know, five and you were three, and I’m not even fucking sure if you feel the same way but you just kissed my cheek back in the café so maybe that counts for something? Maybe it really was for the food, I don’t know. But god, I love you so much, Y/N and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but I just want you to know that I don’t want things to ever change between us even if my feelings are out in the open already and I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve because I’m just so damn smitten for you. I love you, Y/N.” 

Yoongi finishes his rant, and he’s breathing heavily and his heart’s beating out of his chest and he doesn’t know what to do next because you’re just standing in front of him, eyes wide, cheeks a dark shade of red, and your heart ready to burst out of your ribcage at his confession.

For someone who’s a creative writing major, for someone who’s so good with words, you’re speechless. For the first time in your entire life, you’re speechless.

“So,” Seokjin shouts from the crowd, effectively catching both yours and Yoongi’s attention, “are you just going to stand there and keep him waiting or will you tell him you love him too?”

The crowd coos, and your eyes dart back to Yoongi’s. 

“Yoongi, I love you too.” You say simply and the crowd interrupts into cheers as Yoongi lets out a relieved sigh, stepping forward and pulling you into his embrace. Yoongi bends down to bury his face in your neck and you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he wraps his around your waist.

“Thank God you love me too, that would’ve been so embarrassing if you didn’t,” Yoongi whispers and you giggle.

You both pull away, and then turn to see that the crowd has dispersed, while your friends shot you thumbs ups before walking away to give you some alone time.

You look up at Yoongi, your smile bright as you see all the love and adoration Yoongi held for you.

“Well, you feed me well, Min Yoongi.” you reply, rising up on your tiptoes to kiss his nose.

“Oh yeah, let’s go get your food, I know you’re hungry.” Yoongi intertwines your fingers with his, leading you both back to the café.

“See, this is why I love you so much,” You grin, swinging your hands together.

Yoongi stops walking and turns to you. He cups your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks softly. “I love you so much, Y/N.” 

You hold onto his wrists and give him a mischievous grin. “More than your Audi?” You challenge, and Yoongi laughs heartily, kissing your forehead.

“A billion times more than my Audi.”

⇒ let me know what you think or hmu with anything under the sun here!

[derryhawkins]

Growing Fame (1/??)

summary: A modern AU where the losers are semi-famous for different things, and when they all run into each other at a certain event, all of their fans go bat-shit crazy – wanting the seven to spend more time together. What they didn’t expect even more than that, though, was a well-known and mean journalist to write bad reviews on them all. Their growing fame could soon shrink, they quickly realized. warnings: nothing, really; swearing. pairings: not yet decided a/n: I am excited for this, not gonna lie. To sum up the reasont that they’re famous: Most of the losers are YouTubers. Stan, Eddie, and Bill are this funny famous trio who used to be on Vine. Bev is a make up/FX artist. Mike is a singer on YouTube who’s slowly getting famous. Richie’s in a band. & Ben makes educational history vids with the occasional blog of him & Mike together bc they’re bffs. Hope you guys enjoy!! 

oh & this is like 2.4k words, so beware bc its a bit long.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3

Day Off

Mike Hanlon laid on the couch in his apartment – head propped up by cushion, a guitar on his stomach, clothes mismatched from being lazy, and his golden retriever laying beside the couch while the black cat was curled between his feet. He strummed the guitar and hummed a tune of one of his songs with his eyes closed. He was simply relaxing, enjoying the time by himself with his two lovely pets. He could faintly hear his friend in the guest bedroom, an occasional yell being heard that made Mike halt his strumming for a short second before starting again. The dark skinned male had no idea what his friend was doing but he didn’t matter. He had a day off.

A day off from working his ass off to get his EP done for his fans – a surprise for them, actually. Mike was a singer/song writer on YouTube who had just recently been signed a record label deal for the next five years. He had been working on the EP before, but now it’s basically officially official that it will all happen. The work was tiresome, surprisingly. He stood in a studio all day, singing his heart out, and it was fun, don’t worry, but he just couldn’t help but feel that he needed everything for it to be perfect. Besides, he needed one more song plus the name for the EP and he had no idea what to do for those two things.

He was in a writing slump and all the names for EP he came up with sounded idiotic. But he had to admit that this all beat working at the family farm. He loved it there, too; he loved all the animals and spending time with family. But he also loved music, and once his grandfather agreed that Mike could give the music career a go, he was ecstatic.

Mike halted his strumming and humming once again as the guest bed room flung open. His eyes opened as well when the sound of footsteps were heard to be coming closer, and as Sandy the golden retriever lifted her head. Not too soon later, Ben Hanscom stood in the living room with a fowl expression and crossed arms. It was rare to see Ben so upset at somethings, so Mike quickly sat up.

Ben and Mike had been friends ever since they started college together a couple years ago. At the time, Mike was working on becoming an engineer with the side job of music - just playing at little venues to get the money with the occasional video up on YouTube just like he had done in high school. But once his videos got more popular and as he realized that music could be his career, he focused more on the music. Still, though, he was working on a minor in engineering with a major for general studies. It wasn’t too much to handle.

Ben had become Mike’s roommate. He was in love, and still is, with history. All his life he had been fascinated by it, and he was glad to know Mike didn’t find it annoying; the boy actually agreed. At some point in time he started putting up videos explaining history and doing little cartoons along with it; the first video got pretty popular pretty quickly, surprising both boys, and now two years later Ben has a contract with a company that pays him. He posts explanatory and educational videos of history. He also has a vlog, just posting there once in a while when there’s a longer time period in between videos.

So, the two boys knew each other pretty well. After two years of dealing with each other, becoming close friends, and slowly rising to popularity together, both of them noticed what made the other tick. What made them annoyed, or happy, or scared, or angry. So Mike Hanlon was pretty quick to pick up on Ben Hanscom’s annoyance.

“Dude, everything okay?” Mike asked carefully, making sure not to accidentally kick Salem (yes he named the cat after the black cat from Sabrina the Teenage Witch, okay?) as he moved his legs. Salem was quick to leave.

“We need to go to comic con this year.”

Mike stared for a moment before cracking a smile. “Is that why you’re pissed?” He asked.

“Mike, we missed last year, okay? We can’t miss two years in a row! I need to dress up as Star Lord at least once in my life without getting weird looks and to geek over Game of Throwns with other people.”

“I geek about it.”

“You complain about the nudity.”

“Well, I watch the show for the action; not the sex scenes!”

For a few seconds the two twenty year olds were quiet, staring at one another, waiting to see if the conversation was going to turn into a debate that they usually had when Game of Throwns was brought up. Was there too much nudity in the show? Mike often with yes, most of the time, while Ben said it was fine; they once got in an argument about it in a public place and the looks they got made them regret having being so loud about it.

Thankfully, though, neither boy continued on with the subject. Ben uncrossed his arms and shrugged as he said, “Anyway, we’re going to comic con.”

“Alright, fine. Need me to buy the tickets?”

“Ah, no, I have the money. Thanks for offering, though, Mike,” Ben told him.

The taller boy gave a smile and nodded. “Welcome, B.”

“Hey, guys, I have a day off from school and work and editing videos, so here I am doing a live stream! With Stan and Bill!”

“I was forced into this,” Stanley Uris’ voice sounded as he situated himself in front of the propped up phone. He gave a small glare to Eddie Kaspbrak but at seeing the smaller boy smile innocently at him, he rolled eyes and smiled back. “It’s barely started and I already regret this.”

“Aw S-Stan, it won’t even last th-thuh-thirty minutes,” Bill Denbrough said. He refrained from making a face as he stuttered; most of the time he didn’t now a days, but once in a while it would pop up. Stan glanced over at him and shrugged. He had already sat down on the other side of Eddie, one arm thrown around the back of Eddie’s chair and the other in his lap as he held his phone.

The three boys were known for goofing off in front of the camera together on YouTube. It used to be Vines, once upon a time. Bill and Eddie started out there and soon Stan joined and they had both separate accounts and a joint account where they would constantly make stupid yet funny videos together. They got pretty famous, too, so once Vine ceased to exist, they moved on YouTube. Still stupid but funny. Once in a while ranting videos. An occasional vlog here and there. Then the rare live stream, something Eddie decided to do today.

“Anyway, we are here to answer some questions!” Eddie exclaimed, clapping his hands together and giving a smile. “So ask away.”

Bill leaned forward to read one of the many comments.  “ ‘BILL’,” he paused and laughed at the fact that his name was in all caps, “ ‘What’s is like living with Stan and Eddie?’ Oh, wow- o-okay. Not that bad, actually. They’re both nice and neat people. I’m the messy one, they clean up after me a lot.”

“No one likes your dirty socks under the couch, William,” Stan informed him with a teasing attitude. Bill flipped him off but they all laughed.

“ ‘When will Bill’s book be done’?” Stan read the next question. He then turned to look at Bill, who gave a shrug and a nod. Stan nodded back before answering. “Sometime in November! We’re excited about it. Bill won’t let us read it until then, so we’ve been stuck to waiting with you guys.”

“It’s a surprise, idiots,” the tallest male explained.

They then went on and answered more questions. Are you guys going to comic con in 2 weeks? The answer was an enthusiastic yes from all three boys. When will we get another video of Stan with the birds? Stan had answered sometime soon, when the raining whether outside was sunshine instead. Then they got questions about the different types of birds and Stan grinned the entire time answering the ones he could. Then Eddie answered one about how his nursing major was going; despite being popular in the media, Eddie still went to school.

They all did. He didn’t want to be left in the dust, having to work random jobs, when they decide to stop making videos, so he decided nursing would do just fine. Bill majored in English and constantly had papers to write, but still somehow found time to write his upcoming book and make videos with his two friends, even sometimes his little brother, Georgie, back at home. Stan decided to just do general studies but then also decided to minor in World Religions. Between all of that, he also had a wide knowledge of birds.

“ ‘Favorite bands’?” Eddie read one of the comments after complaining about his lack of sleep. “Imagine Dragons,” he quickly answered.

“The Records,” Bill said at the same time, excitement evident on his features and in his voice.

“Who the fuck are The Records?” Stan asked.

Eddie pointed at their Jewish friend, “I’m with Stan on this one.”

Bill grinned. “Remember that guy I told you about who made dick jokes and your mom jokes a lot at my high school?”

“Oh, no,” Eddie groaned with a grimace on his face.

Stanley frowned and rolled his eyes. “Your best friend until you came here?”

“He’s still my best friend! I’m bitter that you guys haven’t met him yet, but he’s in a band called The Records. He’s the lead singer, too, and they’re good. They got a record deal last year and they’ve been getting more popular since.”

“Huh,” came from both Eddie and Stan.

“Maybe I’ll give them a listen,” Stan muttered.

“He sounds annoying from all the things you’ve told us about it. But good for his band, I guess,” Eddie said. He glanced at his phone and chuckled at one of the comments. My aesthetic: Bill gushing about his friends and promoting them. He read it out loud, which just caused everyone to laugh and agree with the fan.

Shortly after, the livestream on Instagram ended and three boys piled out of the apartment and went to dinner.

Richie Tozier was grinning from ear to ear by the end of the live stream that had his best friend in it - the best friend that wasn’t Beverly Marsh, of course. He laughed slightly and laid across his bed. It was no secret that Richie watched every livestream, YouTube video, vlog, or whatever that Bill Denbrough was in; they were best friends in high school and supported each other then. He wasn’t going to stop supporting the guy now just because they lived in different cities.

(And, no, he wasn’t watching the smaller boy’s videos daily; just the one’s with Bill. He didn’t follow Eddie Kaspbrak on all social media platforms, either, no he did not).

(Fucking liar).

Richie went to the message app and sent Bill a text.

to Big Bill: aw bill u sure ur not in love with me???

He got a quick response.

from Big Bill: i’m in love with chicken wings, rich, how many times do we have to discuss this

to Big Bill: until the die I day to Big Bill: wait to Big Bill: until the day I die!

from Big Bill: fucking hell

Richie laughed and exited out of the app. He was about to go onto Twitter, to see if there was any drama regarding anything interesting, when his door flung open to reveal his redheaded best friend standing there with a pissed off expression. Richie raised an eyebrow. She should be on a date; he should be having the rest of the day to himself. He quickly sat up and rolled off of his bed and walked over to Beverly.

“Bev, what happened?” He asked. He could slowly feel himself getting pissed at whatever the situation was.

Beverly Marsh was like his sister and damned be any girl or guy who hurt her feelings. They met a year ago, outside of the a club after being kicked out for being underage. Ever since then, they’ve been inseparable. They got an apartment together not even three months after knowing each other; that’s how well they got along. Of course, though, they got into their little quarrels and fights but not once did they say they hated the other or that they wanted to move out. There was like an unspoken agreement to never say those words.

“Do I need to fight her? I will, just say the word!”

Beverly rolled her eyes yet there was a tiny smile on her lips that soon vanished as quick as it came. The scowl was back and Richie could faintly see tears building up in her eyes. “She didn’t fucking show,” she seethed out finally. “I mean, last time she had actually came and gave an explanation before leaving right after. But this time she fucking- I sat there for nearly two hours! It was humiliating, Rich.”

Richie sighed and extended his arms. “Do you need a hug?”

“No,” Bev shook her head. But she glanced up and slouched her shoulders at seeing the look on Richie’s face. “Fine,” she sighed. She was then instantly pulled into a bone crushing hug by the lead singer of The Records. She didn’t hesitate to hug back. “I’m going to go plan out my next make up video later. Can I do yours again sometime soon?”

“Sure can, Bev. Oh, and guess what I got tickets for today,” Richie told her. A smirk formed on his lips.

Beverly pulled away from the hug and looked up at him after wiping under her eyes. She had blinked back most of the tears but still some leaked out.

“Dude, no way?” She asked, excited about it all even though Richie didn’t actually say the words. They have both been talking about it for days now, not knowing if they could actually get tickets.

“Yes way! Get your costume ready, Miss Marsh, because we’re going to comic con!”

[tsundere-sims]

Nicole Xiao

Basics Name: Nicole Xiao L’Ane she was born Xiao Nicole L’Ane but she switched her first name and her second name, her surname is luxembourgeois Ethnicity: Eurasian (father of pure luxembourgish family established in China for years and Chinese mother) (mother is daughter of Bengali father and Chinese mother living in Laos for decades) so (dad -> white & asian mom-> bengali and chinese) Age: 22 Sexuality: Straight, grey-aromantic Employment: Writer Birthday: 7 janvier 1995 Sign: Capricorn Eye Color: Amber Hair Style/Color: straigt black shoulder length hair Height: 5’03 Clothing Style: conservative, colorless (brown sometimes) Favorites Color : pale brown Animal: rodent Movie: Westerns,Japanese horror films & Asian actions film Game: pc games Music: alternative rock, blues, rocknroll, Electro pop, basically all her playlist Drink: milk tea Food: All Chinese street food involving pork Thoughts Your First Thoughts Waking Up: I don't waste time, I wake up and go no time to wander What You Think About the Most: my adoptive parents John and Authrine What You Think About Before Bed: Why Liun and I can move to welcome 3 more people to live with us You Think Your Best Quality Is: My apathy really, I love the fact that I have the ability to dissociate and be immune to what hurts others the most, the people I'm close too feel comfortable telling me anything, bc most of the time it don't phase me and I never judge nobody, I'm like a blank page….” Childhood memories/Relationships/Idols/etc. Nicole fave memory as a child is the birth of her little sister Vili as her and Liun felt lonely since brother was always at school and mom work 3 job and is only home sumdays, they took care of her like their 3rd twin. Mother (Xue Han): She was not close to her mom at all bc she was barely home working 3 jobs first at a local laundry from 12 to 4pm, in a hotel from 6pm to 10pm and as waitress from 10pm to midnight, therefore she slept at their aunt house and left Nicole,Liun and baby Vili alone with their brother who went to school from 9am to 6pm. So they barely had time to bond plus the mom had an exhorbitant love for money when she married she just did bc he impressed her with his family rich reputation in China and the fact he was half white(she was very ashamed of her Bengali heritage in a white beauty supremacy Laos & China) so she urged to marry him and weirdly she had a child shortly after as a “surprise” (huh she was pregnant before meeting him she took the opportunity by marrying what she thought was a rich man to make him believe the baby was HIS and secure the wealth she wanted) after the marriage she realized Qiang was not a direct heir of the “L’Ane” family wealth but just a cousin of the Heir he had an argument with and they cut him out of financial support, they became lower middle class, by that time she was pregnant with twins and didn't announced to Quiang, who signed paper saying that his family had just one Child and no plans of another bc China population was too much and birth had to be limited. They recieved 5,000 for accepting the “agreement” not to have children but then she announced her pregnancy after Quiang decided to hide the kids by not declaring them at birth, just the time to get a lawyer to annul the agreement. Fearing to get arrested bc Quiang didn't find a lawyer that will accept to be paid a lower middle class family revenue she declared the children, Quiang accepted but left the house not taking care of the newborn twins for 5 month, And Xue had to payback the 5,000¥ so she took a job and had her family track Quiang down they found him, homeless and hungry he came back home w no explanation and was a stay at home dad for the twins and Xue worked. To payback the money he secretly got into the Chinese mafia and sold drugs and firearms in secret places. Him & Xue never talked in that period he hated her to have put them in this situation of payback and she hated him to have lied about his wealth. Within 2 month they paid back now everybody's just acted like this never happened and the subject wasn't talked again. Xue stopped the working and rebecame the stay at home mom, Quiang continued to mysteriously bring much money home but Xue didn't question it as they became upper middle class and her lifestyle was fancy. Quiang was depressed bc he wanted out of the mafia but that's impossible unless death, he put Kein in a high private school. But 2 years later the twins were 3 year old, Quiang brutally left the house, they got kicked out their wealthy mansion and back to their lower middle class life, Xue was in the last stage of her pregnancy and Kein was not kim led out of school as it was vacations but for the rentrée Xue had to find a solution she send the twins to her aunt and went work in the capital while pregnant. And continued to work after Vili birth that she left at the aunt house and Keon still went to school. The mother was close the twins as baby but unable to bond as they grew very mature at the age of 3. And even know Xue is like a old connaissance who gave them up for Nicole. Father (Quiang L’Ane): Weirdly she gets along beat with Quiang even if he was an on and off dad she as no difficulty or awkwardness talking to him maybe because Nicole is Schizoid she really not is big on social relations so even if he don't talk to her in weeks she won't hold no grunges against him, talking is very spontaneous with Quiang and Nicole it's that personal daughter-dad bond that only them can get. After he left when she was 3, he came back a month after her sister birth and secretly took them (Nicole,Liun & Kein) with the permission of the aunt who stayed with vili and told nothing to Xue, and they stayed with him and he will introduce them to “cousins” Wen & Lam and he frequently did that half month without Xue ever knowing the only time he came see her was to file for divorce BROTHER/SISTERS: Nicole and Kein where very close he was the perfect big brother at least he tried, stealing stuff for them to eat, reading them stories celebrating their birthday by telling every neighborhood who gave them flowers, coming to take them after school everyday being the funniest and indépendant from anybody. When they got adopted he was way more depressed than Liun (who wanted her momma) and Kevin didnt understand how she felt nothing he got bullied at school bc he couldn't talk English and always fought and got in trouble after school because in China he always hang out with his dad and dads friend ( who he didn't know where mafia and Chinese Gamgsters) so he had a strong character. The bullying didn't last and he was the most feared/respected at school. So at home it had an effect on how he didn't interact with sisters or adoptive parents (who he HATES) anymore from his high school years. When he went to college he got back to his old self as he saw his dreams of big study came true slowly bc he makes himself remember how his dad made everything to have him in school and how proud his momma was so he got right to the only memory of his parents that he had his sisters. Just has everything went good John and Authrine went to Laos with all the children for vacations and they linked up with Xue, Liun,Kein and Ovi were the happiest and Nicole was very apathic with her mom but was polite. So they linked up and spent few days with her she asked about college for Kein then (OF COURSE) for some money as if what she was sent monthly by the rich family was not enough. And she revealed in an argument with Quiang that Kein wasn't his son after Quiang came out of nowhere to say hi to his kids, and Quiang revealed that Wen and Lam were his children. This was what déclenched an identity crisis for Kein he took the first plane back to New York and didn't give any news to anybody but a text to John and Authrine saying he is fine and back in college. They didn't question it. So that he was already lost to he was in high school he was back broken in the identity crisis stage with no answer to who brought him to this world and it's been 2 year he hasn't talk to any of his sisters or adoptive parents or “biological” parents nobody came after him because he sends news every month from a cab somewhere in NYC Your character’s relationship with their mother or their father, or both. Was it good? Bad? : Were they spoiled rotten, ignored? Do they still get along now, or no?: Where (and when) did they grow up? How did they view it as a child, and did that change as they matured? How do they feel about the place now? : Describe their best and worst memories from childhood : Who was their idol growing up?: What were they like as a child?: How do they feel about their family? How does their family feel about them?: Do they have siblings/cousins?: Sex/Romance What are they attracted to in a partner?: Do they have any particular fetishes or kinks?: Is there anything in particular that they won’t do?: Have they ever hurt someone they loved?: Do they fall in love easily?: Who is their current partner, and what attracted the character to them?: What kind of a relationship is it?: Misc Questions (less personal) Do they have any allergies? : What is their weapon of choice if they had to use one?: What is their preferred method of transportation?:. What kind of weather makes them happy, and what kind makes them sad?: What languages do they speak?: Do they eat a healthy diet? A varied one?: As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up?: What do they do when they need comfort?: What are they like when they are drunk?: Where in their body do they keep stress or tension?: Do they have any pet peeves or dislikes, and how do they react to encountering them?: Do they like to travel?: How well do they take criticism? How do they react to others noticing their flaws?: What are they like when they get sick? Do they have a particular system (ears, lungs, etc) that illness gravitates to?: How do they react to being physically injured or undergoing medical treatment?: 1: What’s your OC’s biggest insecurity and how would they react if someone pointed it out to them? 
2: If your OC wants to buy a firearm, what it might be for?
she owns one and it’s for protection (it was a gift from one of her brothers) 3: Does your OC behave differently around different people, if so with whom and how? 
4: Would your OC want to involve themselves in humanitarian work ? If yes, then for what? If not, then why not? 5: How would your OC generally react to someone being verbally abusive towards them for no apparent reason?
 6: Does your OC have a realistic image of their own intelligence?
 7: Does your OC have any irrational phobias? 
8: How is/was your OC’s relationship with their parents? 9: Does your OC feel a pressure to achieve or are they content and calm with doing what 10: Does your OC guard their emotions by being tough? If not how would they?
 11: How would your OC react to hearing they’re adopted? 12: What is one of the most primary things your OC feels that is missing from their life?
 13: What kind of situations does your OC avoid the most?
talking about feelings 14: If your OC gets into a fight with their best friend, would they wait for their friend to make up with them, or would they try to make up with their friend?
 15: Does your OC consider themselves a good person?
 16: Is your OC good at giving others validation of their feelings and making them feel understood?
 17: Does your OC suffer from any mental health issues?
 19: What boosts your OC’s confidence the most?
 20: Does your OC hurt others often unintentionally? If yes, how?
 21: Does your OC hurt others often intentionally? If yes, how?
 22: How does your OC usually show affection? Are they openly romantic or more restricted with their affectionate emotions?
 23: Does your OC tend to hide something about their personality/essence when meeting new people? If yes, what?
 24: How would your OC react if they got humiliated by someone in a group of people? 25: How would your OC process the grief caused by the death of a loved one?
 26: What is the most intense thing your OC has been battling with?
 27: Does your OC practise any kind of escapism? If yes, what kind?
 28: How would your OC react if a bully stole their lunch money in high school?
. 29: How does your OC behave on the face of a conflict?
 30: What makes your OC defensive quickest?

[hunterlockwood-blog1]

hey lovelys !! it’s ya girl rachel here sliding in to the game completely unorganized despite the fact i’m an admin? tbh, sounds about right !! anyway, i’m SO glad that you all decided to join our little roleplay and make our efforts worth while. now, before i get TOO sappy i’m going to proceed to introduce my two little shitbags. you know the drill, under the read more is all the infos !!

i’m gonna try to keep this short and sweet, but the likelyhood is i’m going to excessively ramble because i have a tenancy to do that.

TROIAN BELLISARIO? oh wait, that’s HUNTER LOCKWOOD from room #A110, the FEMALE TWENTY-TWO year old FLORIST. haven’t they been a resident for SIX MONTHS now? I’ve heard that they are COMPASSIONATE & INTELLIGENT, although resident whispers say they can also be NAIVE & EASILY MANIPULATED. i swear everytime i hear MEDICINE by DAUGHTER they always seem to come to mind!

TRIGGER WARNING: CAR ACCIDENT

grew up in a VERY sheltered household, her dad is a cop so she basically grew up hearing him complain about all the kids her age and all the petty little crimes or things they did and basically it made her terrified of being that kind of person bc she didn’t wanna make her dad annoyed with her like he was w/these people

she had an older sister who legit was like ?? light of her life tbh she aspired to be her so so sOoo much because she thought the literal world of her

her sister was a writer n started up a website when she was in highschool that was basically like.. different columns with different themes like ‘whats in right now’ or what events were happening in their neighborhood/school or study tips ya get?

so smol hunter was also a writer n a pretty good one like a journalist n whatever 

and so one day big sis invited her to collab and basically they ran the site together

tbh i like to think it’s was probs pretty popular bc her sister would of been outgoing asf and probably had a lot of friends

fast forward a couple of years and welp 

basically her sister got killed by a drunk driver and lmao bc i hate myself her dad is a cop aka...... he was called to the scene fuck me up why do people let me do this 

but the death kind of majorly fucked up her family a lot? like u think her dad was overprotective before?? it got ten million times worse because the last thing he was gonna do was lose another kid

but like, minus all of that like the house just became really quiet and her family weren’t as close anymore

hunter is legit such a compassionate person, so seeing her parents in pain she bottled all her own emotions up  and put them on a shelf for another day and rather than mourning she took care of her broken parents 

which is honestly the worst thing she could’ve done because she still to this day has never fully mourned the loss of someone that legit meant the world to her and it’s just ?? kinda fucked her up a lot

after it happened she pushed kinda everyone away? like she had a friendship group and a boyfriend and she just kinda shoved them out of her life because she was like nope lol 

instead she took it upon herself to try and fill the role of being the ‘star child’ like her older sister was. she has a tenancy to completely overwork herself tbh, or will literally say yes to anything? 

wHICH TBH YEAH OKAY she’s a literal doormat and while her family aren’t like super toxic her dad is kinda..... a dick? but in a way you can’t really notice it

but he pretty much uses her as a doormat and she’s completely wrapped around his little finger like he still treats her like a little kid and she’s not allowed to break his rules and she’s just very very terrified of disappointing him so she isn’t really living her life to the fullest because she’s too focused on being this pristine little good girl 

she lived at home til recently and tbh her dad highkey hates where she’s living because it’s not the nicest place and he’s always trying to get her to move and offers to pay for it if she does

her mom owns a couple of florists, which is how hunter got the job; she’s been working there for a long ass time and tbh she actually enjoys it? she’s basically head of the store she works in tbh. 

oh also she refuses to write anymore bc it reminds her of her sister

also has a long haired german shepard who is love of her life she’d die for that dog

this got so long i’m sorry i’m trying to fit everything in rip

oH I ALMOST FORGOT TO MENTION LEGIT THE REASON WHY I EVEN PICKED THIS SONG WTF

okay so, hunter is 100% a person who overthinks literally EVERYTHING and after tisby died it kind of became impossible for her to sleep? i mean tbh she’s probs lowkey an insomniac, she would go days without sleeping and just be a general zombie 

but her doctor gave her like.. sedatives?  basically a medication that would help her sleep but sleeping is so much easier than being awake when you’re legit despressed asf despite the fact you don’t show it so she kinda... got... addicted??? 

lowkey still takes them sometimes because she’s a rly bad sleeper tbh she thinks to much idk

also hates cars now and tries to avoid them like the fucking plague 

VICTORIA JUSTICE ? oh wait, that’s CARTER HASTINGS from room #A210, the TWENTY-THREE year old BAKER. haven’t they been a resident for THREE MONTHS now? I’ve heard that they are AUDACIOUS & ALLURING, although resident whispers say they can also be OBDURATE & FIERY. i swear everytime i hear WREAK HAVOC by SKYLAR GREY they always seem to come to mind!

ima try make this one considerably shorter okay

sHE IS A PIECE OF SHIT

ya’ll don’t udnerstand i almost just left it as that tbh

okay so basically homelife growing up was lit she had a mommy n daddy who loved her v much and loved eachother until one day they didnt

which by that i mean mommy dearest found daddy-o fucking her bestie in their bed and it messed her up as fuCK

things just went super downhill from there basically carter just kinda raised herself bc her mom was kinda just ?? gone in the head a lil ?? like she doped herself up so much she just wasn’t entirely herself at all anymore 

carter just got into bad crowds because she was viewed as that kind of person tbh dirtbag aesthetic asf

she’s on parole rn and has an ankle monitor on for the next like six months bc she’s a bad human and got caught up in this drug scheme that was going on and they all got caught for it 

literally tried to flirt her way out of the situation tbh like she does with everything

if she can bat her eyelashes and dirty talk her way outta something she’s sure as fuck gonna try

probs doesn’t give a shit about ur opinion of her

has a shitty temper and will literally fight anyone at any time about anything 

idk man she’s just super problematic and i hate her fucking guts

oH BUT OKAY SHE BAKES ???

i mean both herself and actual baked goods 

it just kinda happened on accident like she got hired in this place after she got put on parole bc it was part of the deal she got a good job n wahtever but it turns out?? she lowkey had an undiscovered talent

is the type to bake at 4am and will probs knock on ur door asking for flour or to use your oven or something 

makes lit pot brownies js js 

ya’ll this is a tOTAL trainwreck, but i’m too excited to just post it and get to plot with you all !! so on that note, please please lets plot? i plan on shooting everyone a message about plotting but if you wanna beat me to it be my guest tbh.