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imjusttpeachy · 4 years ago

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bumpy roads & broken promises. (c.h.)

EDIT: Lmaoooo I did not expect this to actually get notes, thanks guys! I already made it onto someone’s fic recs-- I feel special. Actually might end up writing more if this gets more attention. :^)

I wrote this as a vent/comfort fic for myself but figured others might like it. Corpse has been my new safety youtuber ever since the old nosleep reader--deep voice/no face gamer went to shit so... yeah.

Heavily inspired by @mmonamona ‘s fic “Petty Fights and Lonely Nights” just more angst.

playlist

feng suave - sink into the floor

current joys - a different age

feng suave - venus flytrap

rei ami - do it right

summary: Corpse gets frustrated with work and snaps at the reader when she tries to ask what’s wrong, triggering a bad memory from a past relationship.

word count: 2, 932

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used, coarse language, shouting, panic attacks, reference to past relationship trauma (no retelling, nothing detailed)

(angst, hurt/comfort, crying! lots of it)

>>>

“God would you just fuck off already?!”

Frozen. Your body tensed up as the deep growl echoed through the cramped dark room.

You had been staying at your boyfriend’s apartment for about a week while you were on break from college. Flying out from the UK to California so you could spend as much time as you could with him before ultimately having to return to 5am facetimes while drowning in papers and essays.

Even before you’d booked the tickets, Corpse was already apologizing for everything under the sun. The size of his apartment and its cleanliness, the fact that he couldn’t do much more than order take out for you, his irregular sleeping patterns.. the list could go on and on. And while you assured him every time that you didn’t care, that you were coming to see him— not his apartment, not home cooked meals, and definitely not to scrutinize him for things he couldn’t control due to his mental health. But he wouldn’t buy it.

Not one bit.

He’d offer you a weary half-smile, pulling you into his chest or ruffling your hair before placing a soft kiss on your temple and changing the subject. You didn’t press any further knowing how often he was at war with his own mind and couldn’t help but think the worse of every situation.

As the days carried on, you’d spent most of your time tangled up in each other. Whether it be a movie, or playing some co-op games, or even just laying in his bed with him, you could barely stand to spend any time apart. But, of course, you were adults with responsibilities that would tear you from one another eventually. While you did miss his presence every second he wasn’t around, you couldn’t help but try to make his life even better for when he got back and for when you’d eventually have to leave him once again. Now, a week into your stay, his apartment was a good amount tidier than how it’d been when you arrived. The cupboards and fridge were stocked with groceries that would hopefully last for some time after you left, on top of the home made meals you’d make together or for him everyday. New picture frames were hung up on the wall of the two of you that you’d gifted to him when you arrived; it actually started to feel like home. Well, as much as it could without those familiar strong arms wrapped around you every second of the day.

Unfortunately, this evening was one of those times. Corpse had already been locked up in his office for a few hours now, the sounds of button mashing and frustrated exclamations making its way through the thin walls every so often bringing an amused smile to your face. He’d woken up a bit anxious already knowing he’d have to both leave you alone and put up a brave front for the stream that was planned that evening. You didn’t push him or try to talk about it, knowing that it would just make it worse; so you two had spent the day as it normally would (though he always looked and felt on edge) until he was forced to retreat back into that dreaded workspace.

You occupied yourself on your phone and laptop for a while, checking up on friends, reviewing anything you’d need for the upcoming semester, just scrolling through your socials— y’know, the works. But by the time you’d gotten bored with your scrolling, you’d notice it was a perfect time to start dinner that you’d hopefully be able to eat together with Corpse. You’d gotten to work right away, doing your best to be as quiet as you could to not disturb his work as the different aromas began to spread through the small kitchen in his apartment. Finishing up the dishes after the meal was all cooked, you dished up two servings and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch before you went to retrieve your other half.

Turning the knob of his office door slowly, you peered into the dark room; only the silhouette of the floppy mop of hair you adored so much was able to be seen in the dim light of his computer monitors. Taking a hard look at his right-most monitor you notice an editing software pulled up instead of the usual live chat he had on while streaming, so without any worry of interrupting you opened the door and stepped into the room. It was a cozy room for sure, and it always seemed to smell just like him— which of course is a given but with how much time he spent in this room, it was even more so present. Walking up slowly to his right side so you wouldn’t startle him with just your voice you watched his gaze flick to your form before steadying itself back in the monitor. Furrowing your brows at his strange behaviour but not letting it get to you, you opened your mouth to speak.

“I made dinner!” You smiled down at him, taking a few steps back toward the door so he would be able to get out of his gaming chair without you in his space. However, the hunched form of your focused boyfriend didn’t move an inch. Your heart sunk a little at his attitude but decided to just try again.

“Corpse, baby, dinners ready.”

“I’m not hungry.” The short statement left his mouth in a low grumble, if you hadn’t spent all this time with him studying his voice and begging him to speak more to you, you probably wouldn’t have been able make it out at all. You huffed out a sigh, this was new for him, you really hadn’t seen him as anything other than the cuddly baby you’d grown to know and love. But, you thought to yourself, love would come with days like this and it was bound to happen eventually. Trying your best to not get frustrated or angry with his snappy attitude, you kept your voice light and cheery as you tried again to coax him out to eat.

“Corpse you’ve barely eaten today I-“

“I said I’m not hungry.” Startling at the angry tone you’d never heard from him before, you could feel yourself start to get choked up. Pulling your hands up to hug your arms, trying to sooth yourself, you could feel yourself starting to slowly freeze up. Goosebumps ran over your skin, a chill snaking it’s way up your spine as you gulped, trying your best to muster up the bravery to speak again. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, he knew how the tone affected you— he was usually even the one to comfort you after an episode triggering something like this. As your mouth began to run dry, you took a deep breath deciding that he would definitely come to his senses in the next moments, you opened your mouth to speak again.

“Is everything alri-“

“I’m FINE! I’m not a FUCKING CHILD I don’t need you constantly checking up on me! God would you just fuck off already!”

You didn’t even notice the tears dripping off your cheeks until they splashed against the bare skin of your hand. Slipping into the defense mode you knew so well, your body switched onto autopilot as you began to backpedal out of the room, almost tripping a few times as you sputtered out a choked “okay, I’m sorry,” before closing his door once again and stumbling messily down the hallway to his room. Your mind was moving a thousand miles a minute yet was completely blank at the same time, and before you knew it you were tucked away inside the dark closet in his room.

This was the routine, this is where you’d be safe.

Trying to slow your erratic breathing you hugged your knees even closer to your chest, praying that in some way it would ease your shaking body. But inevitably, you felt the sobs that you’d kept trapped in your throat since you’d left break through. Your chest heaved with the breaths you took to keep your sobs as silent as possible. You thought you had trained yourself well enough for this, you’d done this a million times before— but in the back of your mind you knew that this time it was different. Shrinking into the corner of the closet, the only thing on your mind was all the broken promises he’d sworn to keep.

>>>

Corpse sighed, his body weighing him down in his chair heavily, head aching with all the work he’d been doing that evening. Pulling his attention back, he stretched his arms as his sore eyes glanced over at the clock in the corner of his screen. 11:34pm. Fuck. That much time had passed already? Raking a hand through his hair he yawned sleepily, he knew he should probably spend more time working before calling it a night but all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with you-

Shit.

Finally snapping out of the heavy trance he’d set himself in every time he sat down to edit, he thought back to the last time he had seen you— calling him for dinner where he snapped at you to leave him alone… almost 3 hours ago. The memories of the past moment flooded into his head and seconds later he was scrambling out of his chair and out into the hallway. It was dead silent, Corpse felt like his heart was practically breaking his ribs with how hard it was pounding in his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gripping at the right side of his shirt he rushed into the living room, rubbing frantically at his eyes as they darted around the room quickly looking for any sign of you.

“(Y/N), baby?” He rasped out, voice caught in his throat, walking through the living room and spotting the now cold meals she’d prepared waiting uneaten on the coffee table. His heart sunk as he hurried to the kitchen only to see the rest of the meal out on the counter, not doing anything to ease his mind. He called your name again and again; rushing back into the living room his eyes darted to the front door, a tiny bit of relief pricking his system as he saw the door was still locked and latched, as well as seeing your shoes and jacket by the door. Rushing back into the hallway he peeked into the bathroom, flicking on the light switch and with no sign of you, continued down the hallway to his room.

“(Y/N), please baby.” Flicking on the light his eyes scanned the room not catching a single sight of you-- when he heard it. Slowing his breathing down as much as he could in his panicked state he focused in his hearing on the small heaves of air coming from the closet. Stomach dropping, Corpse collapsed onto his knees, legs giving way from underneath him when he realized where you were and what was happening. Crawling his way toward the closet door he stopped right outside of it, he heard your breath hitch and knew you were holding it out of practiced instinct which made him want to vomit. But it wasn’t about him right now, so with a deep breath he finally managed to whisper out.

>>>

“Princess, I’m gonna open the door okay?”

Finally releasing the breath you had been holding, your lungs heaved for air as light flooded into the dark closet. Peeking an eye out from where it was buried in your knees, you blearily made out your boyfriend’s blurry figure kneeling outside the closet. With your body feeling like it was completely out of your control, sobs once again began to rack your huddled form as you shrunk away from him as far as you could into the corner of the closet.

“I’m gonna come in and sit with you okay, I won’t touch you unless you say I can alright?” You could hear some shuffling before hearing the door creak shut again engulfing the both of you in almost complete darkness, save for the few streams of yellow light coming from the cracks of the door. Corpse stared forward in complete silence, long legs bent uncomfortably and body hunched over in the cramped space of the closet trying to give you as much space as possible but knowing that the first step was sitting with you. The man beside you sighed softly, feeling his heart splinter with every heaving sob that raked over you; he could feel his own tears prick at his eyes and a sob starting to well up in his throat but he held them back. Mustering up the courage and will he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“(Y/N) I am so, so fucking sorry,” his voice pitched just above a whisper because he knew if his voice got any deeper that it would startle you and scare you even more than how you were already feeling right now. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. It never should’ve hap-“

“Y- You br- broke your promise.” Your reply came in watery, stuttered breaths; the knot in Corpse’s throat came right back up, tears filling his waterline as much as he tried to keep his composure for your sake.

“I know. I know I did.” The man beside you managed to choke out thinking back to the day where he first lost his temper around you. You’d told him everything about your experience with your past relationships and how you were treated, what you used to cope and what he could do to avoid that in any way possible. He promised that day that he would never again raise his voice, or move too fast even when he was angry or frustrated, and made sure to note down anything that would possibly trigger you to completely avoid altogether. And he kept those promises… until today. Tilting his head to glance over at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the closet to see you staring straight ahead, tears pouring endlessly down your damp face as your body still shook with soft cries.

“I can’t lose you (Y/N)” Corpse’s voice shook as he tried to figure out the right things to say that would keep you from walking right out that door.

“I’ll do anything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll be better, I swear on my life I’ll be better. Anything you need— it’s yours. I just.. I can’t lose you. Not like this.” He hated how much he sounded like he was pleading when he’s the one who fucked up. The last thing he wanted to do was manipulate you into staying with him which was exactly what your ex did when they made the same mistake time and time again; something he swore he’d never even think of doing. But here he was, and here you were glancing up at him with bloodshot eyes, hair sticking to your tear slicked face and body shaking so much you’d think it was below freezing in there.

Tearing your gaze away from his, you heaved a watery, shaky sigh trying your best to get your thoughts in order. While you had your issues, you knew he had his as well; and with as much patience and understanding he gives you with your snappy, frustrated, sad days, you needed to give back that same patience and understanding with his own. You needed to be brave here.

“Baby-“

“C-Can you just hold me? Please?” You sputtered out just above a whisper, and before you could even unwrap your arms from around yourself Corpse was pulling you into his lap; strong arms encasing you as he pushed his face into your hair. That’s when you found out he was shaking just as much as you were, chest rising and falling erratically with contained sobs as he tried to keep his brave demeanour up for you. Tucking your head under his chin he leaned back against the wall as he crushed you to his chest, the droplets hitting the top of your head giving way to the fact that he was crying too. Pulling your arms up from your side, you slowly wrapped them around his shoulder as he pushed his face against the crook of your neck, sobs finally giving way as he cried helplessly into your shoulder; further dampening the already tear-soaked cloth of the hoodie you were wearing.

“I’m sorry,” Corpse sputtered, hooking his chin over your shoulder so he could keep up with the heaving of his chest, pulling an arm up from around your waist to rest on the back of your head. As much as he wanted to run his hands all over your body and bury his fingers in your hair to feel and memorize every inch of you, he kept them still not wanting to overwhelm you more than this kind of touch already did.

“I love you, I love you so much, I love you..“ he whispered over and over into the darkness of the closet as you both began to breath slower as one. Shushing him softly, you repeated the soft words back to him before wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, ensuring him that you were going to be alright.

There would be bumps in the road but Corpse was worth it.

__________________________________

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse imagine

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cutesilyo · 3 years ago

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i know your eyes in the morning sun — an indophil fanfic

When a homesick Indonesia is unexpectedly taken out of his meeting for a day trip in Rome with Philippines, he isn't expecting much more than exhaustion ahead of him. Instead, what happens is a whirlwind of food, fun, and a surprising amount of reflection on their histories and differences as nations. And as he looks deeper and deeper in the other nation's bright eyes, he learns to come to terms with the feelings he's been ignoring for far, far too long.

Alternatively: a nation who's too attached to the past goes on a date with a nation whose entire philosophy is built on trying to live in the moment. Yes, there is kissing involved.

Also available on AO3, FF.net

—

“Tell me why we’re here again,” Indonesia groused.

“Unofficially, it’s because I’m busting you out of that damn meeting.” Philippines grinned, his purple eyes glinting mischievously under Rome’s bright sun. “Officially, it’s because we’re on a date.”

All Indonesia could do was sigh. He had arrived in Italy two days ago for a G20 summit, and all the meetings he’s had to attend since then had left him tired and restless. It would have been easier if it was like a normal ASEAN meeting, where he was at least familiar and friendly with all the members. But in the G20, he was the sole Southeast Asian nation there, and he found it difficult to get a word in everyone else’s chaos. Most of the time, he simply preferred to keep his head down and daydream about going back home.

It was during his third-favorite daydream (a peaceful afternoon at Borobudur, dressed in gold just like the old days) that Philippines had burst through the doors with his perpetually bright eyes and cheeky smile. Before he could even process what was happening, Philippines was happily dragging him out of the room while everybody else waved them goodbye.

And that’s how Indonesia found himself in his current predicament. Outside some random pizzeria in a foreign country, dazed out of his wits, and with the one nation who got under his nerves the easiest.

He really wanted to go home.

“Oh, don’t give me that look!” Philippines patted him on the shoulder with a laugh, and Indonesia couldn’t help but tense uncomfortably. “It's not like this is a real date, I just made up some lame excuse to get them off my back. Besides, you were bored out of your mind there, weren’t you? I bet you weren’t even listening. You were probably thinking about your temples.”

“No,” he denied, but the other nation simply smirked knowingly. He felt his face go red in embarrassment. “Well, can you blame me? I don’t feel right around all those Westerners . . .”

Philippines just laughed at him as they walked in.

There wasn’t much to walk into. It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, but just a small family-owned business that only had two round tables to the side. Other than them, there didn’t seem to be any other customers. Different flavors of pizza were behind glass, oddly rectangular in shape rather than the circular pizzas he was used to seeing in advertisements, but their names and prices went unlabeled. Even if they were, he doubted that it would help him much; while he was steadily getting used to English, the Romance languages were an entirely different matter.

“Buonasera,” the middle-aged woman behind the counter greeted them.

Indonesia could only nod awkwardly in response, but Philippines grinned cheerily. “Buonasera! Ciao bella, come stai?”

The two struck up a light conversation while he tried to decide what kind of pizza to get. He was used to thick-crusted, American-style pizzas, and he really didn’t see the point of eating something so expensive when a good terang bulan was always available. Besides, even if he didn’t particularly like pizza, he could see that the ones available here were an entirely different beast from the ones Pizza Hut sold at home. Much more greens and vegetables, for one.

Indonesia hoped he didn’t look too clueless when Philippines finally turned to ask him what kind of pizza he wanted. He just pointed at a random one and prayed for the best.

The other nation looked amused, but he didn’t comment any further. He just turned back to the woman and presumably rattled off their order in rapid-fire Italian that he could barely catch. They continued their conversation from where they left off, and whatever it was that Philippines was saying, it made the woman blush like a maiden. Suddenly, for a reason that he refused to name, he felt consumed by irritation.

His stony silence continued until the woman had given them their pizza, warm and each slice served in a small tray, and bid them goodbye. He’d barely given them a glance until they sat down on a bench just outside the pizzeria.

“So, what do you think?” Philippines asked him. He seemed more excited than he was. “This is your first, right?”

“I’ve eaten pizza before,” he grumbled.

“But this is different,” the other nation insisted. “This is pizza al taglio, Rome’s specialty! Come on, just start eating it already. I could hear your stomach grumbling since we left the meeting room.”

Indonesia stared at the pizza dubiously, ignoring how quickly Philippines was eating his own slice just beside him, before giving it a bite.

It was . . . good.

Not that he was going to tell the other nation that. He couldn’t bear the smug smirk that would be thrown his way.

Instead, he said, “It’s folded. It’s like a sandwich.”

“Boo,” Philippines stuck his tongue out at him. “If you must know, it’s called panino and it’s a lot better than eating it unfolded.”

“Unfolded,” Indonesia repeated. “You mean, like normal?”

Philippines gasped overdramatically. “I can’t believe you just said that! No, pizza al taglio is supposed to be eaten panino! Just ask Romano, he’ll say it's the best.”

“And I imagine if you ask Italy Veneziano, he’d say the opposite.” He took another bite, careful not to let any of the grease on his hands, and hummed appreciatively. “I think I ordered something different though.”

Philippines just laughed, a bit sheepishly. "I . . . may have taken the liberty of changing your order. The one you pointed at back there had pork sausage slices on it, so I got you something more halal. That one has arugula and mozzarella, and I know you like things a bit spicy, so I asked the lady to give you something more piccante. This slice has pepper flakes baked in the dough."

"Oh," he blinked, a bit stunned. Indonesia felt warmer than the pizza in his hands. "Terima kasih."

"Hey, as long as you're here with me, ako bahala sa'yo." Philippines stood up and grinned at him, eyes bright and his half-eaten pizza in his hand. "You know, the best thing about pizza panino is that you can eat them while we're on the go! How about we walk around the city, and I'll take you out on a real date?"

------

This was a mistake.

He and Philippines have never really hung out together much; either they only met for formal occasions or they were always joined by at least one other ASEAN member, so the chances they had to be alone were usually few and far in between. If he was being honest, it was probably better for his heart that way.

Still, he probably should've known better than to let Philippines take charge, because his definition of walking around and the other nation's idea of walking around were vastly different things. For one, he'd definitely rather be driving rather than walking anyway. It didn't help that he was still stuck in his stuffy formal suit and dress shoes, while Philippines was both comfy and stylish in his boots, jeans, and a fashionable overcoat. And though he preferred to get to his destinations as quickly and efficiently as possible, Philippines loved making stops at every little statue or shop that interested him. What's worse is that he couldn't just leave the other nation behind — between the two of them, Philippines was the only one who actually knew how to speak Italian and knew how to get around the city. His only choices were to suffer alone in a foreign land or to slowly murder his feet following Philippines around, and just this once, he'd rather swallow his pride.

"If only my motorcycle was here . . ." Indonesia sighed. "How long are you going to take?"

"Just a bit longer!" He heard Philippines shout from the back of the souvenir shop. "My neighbors would never forgive me if I didn't get them anything, you know!"

He was idly inspecting a small plastic replica of the Coliseum when the other nation emerged a few minutes later, proudly carrying about a dozen silver keychains in his hands. Indonesia couldn't stop himself from grimacing at them; in rupiahs, that was probably the cost of a plane ticket.

"You aren't going to buy anything?" Philippines said. He was fiddling around his pockets for spare coins. He seemed to have forgotten that his wallet was probably in the small leather bag he was carrying, and Indonesia didn't feel like telling him.

"Pass," he said. "I'll wait outside, if you don't mind."

Philippines shrugged, turning back to the cashier. "Suit yourself."

As soon as he stepped out into the cobblestone streets, he immediately felt restless for a smoke. The architecture, the weather, the people . . . it all just reminded him how far away from home he was. It was autumn in Italy, colder than it would ever get at his house, and with a sharp pang of his heart he realized how much he missed everyone.

He started worrying about whether Singapore had gotten enough sleep last night, because often the young nation would look at data until the sun rose, looking for where he could make himself stronger. And Malaysia got dehydrated too easily for someone with his water resources, so he always had to remind him about refilling his water dispensers every once and a while. Brunei had always been quiet, but he'd been too reclusive than was healthy these days; and even though Timor-Leste couldn't face him sometimes, he still hoped she was doing alright. He trusted Thailand and Vietnam could handle everything over at the mainland, but he couldn't help but be concerned about them anyway.

Then there was the nation he was with right now.

All of a sudden, he felt a warm breath on his neck and a whispered: "You're scaring the other tourists, mahal."

Indonesia barely held back a scream, furiously turning to face a mirthful Philippines that was clearly having the time of his life teasing him. "Would you stop scaring me like that? And don't call me mahal!"

Philippines just waved him off with a laugh. "Please, that was barely a scare. And you deserve it! I thought the way you kept staring at my bag was weird, but you meant to tell me my money was in it, right? Silly Indonesia, I can't know things if you don't actually say it."

"Don't blame me for your denseness," he shot back. "Besides, your idea of a date must be really sloppy if all you do is take me to tourist shops. Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"Are you saying you wanted something more romantic? Oh Indonesia, how bold of you!" Philippines looked at him slyly.

He was suddenly reminded of how difficult it could be to talk to Philippines sometimes. "I just thought you'd take me to actual places, like the Coliseum. Or maybe a castle, I don't know."

They walked together in amiable silence towards a nearby bus stop. He almost cried in relief when they finally sat down after what felt like hours of walking. Maybe Indonesia was just feeling his age, but he was not nearly as full of energy as the nation beside him.

"I know you've been to the Coliseum before, so taking you there isn't nearly as exciting," said Philippines, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. "Just so you know."

"Everything always has to be exciting for you," said Indonesia, with a huff.

The other nation winked at him. "What can I say? I love a little thrill."

He couldn't help but be amused at that. Whether it was thrill rides or thriller horror movies, Philippines was always raring to go. Still, though he was grateful, he was starting to feel a bit guilty about all the trouble he put the other nation through. He knew Philippines could be impulsive, but he didn't think he was the kind of person to drop everything and fly to Europe just to rescue him from another boring meeting. "I've been meaning to ask, but how did you end up in Italy anyway? I'd hate to think that you spent so much money just to go here."

"Don't worry! I didn't come to Europe for you," Philippines grinned brightly. "You're just a stop on the destination. I'm actually headed to Munich."

Ah. For some reason, that only made Indonesia feel worse.

"See, when I'm in Europe, I like to start by visiting the Vatican," the other nation continued. "Then Germany said that he had a meeting in Rome too, so we were planning to catch the train together. Didn't you notice that he was rushing to end your meetings as quickly as possible? It's Oktoberfest, you know."

Indonesia nodded slowly. "I guess September does end next week . . . ?"

"Dios mio," Philippines laughed. "I mean the beer festival, not the month. I'd invite you to join us but I know you don't drink."

"Even if I did, I don't think I could keep up with you and Germany," he admitted, which made the other nation's eyes twinkle with pride. "That still doesn't explain why you decided to crash the meeting."

"That's just because you weren't checking WhatsApp, which I'm grateful for." Philippines handed him his phone, which was opened to the group conversation they had with the rest of the ASEAN nations. "Here, I bet you left your phone at the hotel or something."

He did, but that was beside the point. Indonesia took the phone.

The first thing he saw was a selfie of Philippines at the airplane, snuggled up under the airline's provided blanket. Just boarded from Dubai! Be arriving at Fiumicino by morning, anything you guys want?

Abang is in Rome too, isn't he? Malaysia had asked. In that case, the both of you should bring back gifts! I need the best cheese for my sea cucumbers. Also, remember the keychains.

Singapore had sent one of his custom stickers. The merlion was sticking its tongue out.

Stop being so mean to him, or else he'll end up crying to me again, Thailand replied.

Not my problem he's a crybaby, Singapore said. Then he sent another merlion sticker.

Vietnam sent a laughing emoji, and then: You should visit Indo while you're there. You know how sad he gets when he has to go abroad alone.

Malaysia sent a GIF of a crying scene from some old movie.

Eh? But if I'm going to visit him, I want it to be a surprise! Philippines had whined. If he goes online soon, he'll already know. No fun in that.

It should be okay. He's probably asleep now anyway. And he doesn't check his phone during meetings, unlike you, Thailand pointed out.

It will be good for him to see a friendly face, Vietnam added.

Take care of him lah, Singapore had said. Make sure he enjoys himself this time.

PIRI WAIT I HAVE A GREAT IDEA, chatted Malaysia. I'll DM you just in case, so abang can't find out. He'll love it, trust me!

Oh no, said Vietnam, Thailand, and Singapore in separate, individual messages, to which Malaysia simply replied with another GIF. Brunei even mustered the energy to send a worried-looking emoji.

The last message, sent earlier this afternoon, was a selfie of Philippines with a cheeky grin. He was standing just outside the meeting room, and he had sent it with the caption: He won't know what hit him! <3

Indonesia sat there in stunned silence for a few minutes, until he was nudged gently.

"Come on, the bus is here," Philippines stood, putting his hands on his hips. Then he frowned at him. "Hey, Indonesia, is there anything wrong? You look a bit shaken."

"No, everything's fine, I just," he stammered. There was such a powerful feeling in his heart that he didn't have the capacity to explain. "Um, I don't have my phone with me, so. Please thank everyone for keeping me in their thoughts. Tell them I'm doing my best to make all of you proud."

The other nation stared at him for a moment, then smiled.

If Indonesia let a few tears drop while they were on the bus, Philippines was kind enough not to say a word.

-----

Their stop was on top of a hill. There was an impressively large monument of a man on a horse, but Philippines dragged him to the nearby café as soon as they got off the bus, and Indonesia realized that he was probably better off with a nice snack than looking at some old statue anyway. To be fair, he had been waiting for dessert all day long, and the crepes were warm and delicious and more than enough to satisfy his sweet tooth. He finished his in record time, and bought another one right after.

"Ah, there's that smile," Philippines teased, once Indonesia had returned to their spot. "I was wondering where it went."

He was too engrossed with his enjoying his food to respond, but he motioned go on.

"It's just—I've seen you with tourists, you know." Philippines delicately sipped on his drink, slow and careful like an old cat. "Remember when we had that ASEAN hang-out at Bali? The restaurant near our hotel was full of foreign customers, and the staff was overwhelmed, so you decided to help the staff serve tables and entertain the guests. You seemed really friendly there."

"You knew about that?" Indonesia flushed with embarrassment. He thought he managed to sneak out successfully; it was at the point that Vietnam and Laos got crazy drunk, after all. "Well, it's very different dealing with foreigners at my home and actually being in a foreign place."

Philippines hummed contemplatively. "I think I get it. You feel more in control when it's them coming to you, rather than the other way around."

"Yeah, I suppose so." He crumpled the wrapping paper in his hands. "It's different for you though, right? I think you're more used to foreigners than I am."

The other nation laughed nervously. "I'm not sure Boracay and El Nido can even compare—"

"I'm not talking about tourists."

He knew, of course, that Philippines met with many nations as part of his duties, but he had always taken to this role so naturally that Indonesia could only assume that his history had given him a leg up. Spain was stricter on imposing his culture on the other nation than Netherlands ever was with him, or England with Malaysia and Singapore. America was just as obnoxiously stubborn when he colonized him right after. And although he never forgot his roots as part of Southeast Asia, Philippines also kept much less of his pre-colonial culture and history than the rest of them. Anything before Spain took him away was hazy and, as far as his memory was concerned, he had spent his youth growing up with the Americas and Europe — and with his mannerisms and how close he was with the Western nations, he certainly acted like it.

When Philippines arrived at the meeting earlier, everyone was accepting him with open arms. Spain had fondly ruffled his hair and America invited him to a party at his place next week. France had cooed adoringly at how much he had grown since his youth and England reminded him that he was due to visit London's hospitals in the next month. Germany's cheeks were pink as he asked how he was doing and Italy immediately began talking his ear off about food recipes and restaurants. Mexico began crying with joy at the sight of him, while Argentina and Brazil embraced him like family. It was a miracle that the both of them were able to leave as quickly as they did; he was sure that they'd make Philippines stay for at least another hour, if they could.

Meanwhile, Indonesia's own presence was always forgotten. The only time he was talked to the entire meeting was when Australia made an awkward half-joke, half-apology about the spying issue again.

"I guess it's easier for me to relate to them," Philippines admitted, a melancholy look in his eyes. He was looking down at his still half-eaten crepe with an oddly bittersweet smile on his lips; the sun, only just beginning to set, cast a dark shadow on his face. "And for them to relate to me. But I would be lying if I said I don't feel out of place with them too, sometimes. Despite everything, we're still very different. Besides, all the cultural similarities in the world can't make up for the fact that I'm so far away from them all. There just isn't enough opportunity for me to talk to them as much as they can talk to each other."

Indonesia didn't know what to say to that. He settled for a neutral, "I'm sorry I brought it up."

The other nation waved it off. "I'll forgive you if you take a selfie with me later."

He didn't have any choice but to accept.

As he waited for Philippines to finish his food, Indonesia took the time to observe the other people around. Many of them were trying to take a picture with the huge statue, but there were also families walking around with their happily enthusiastic children. If he looked farther, he could see busts of what he assumed were various historical figures lining the pathways. Going by the number of cars that had been parked just across them, it seemed like the park was of good interest for both tourists and locals alike. There were enough people to suggest that the place was well-loved, but there were nowhere near the crowds he'd see when he passed by the other popular tourist destinations. The statue of the man with a horse was large and grand, but he didn't recognize it; he was sure that, whatever this place was, it wasn't featured on the usual travel brochures.

"I'm curious," he said slowly, "as to why you're so familiar with Rome."

Philippines gave him a wry twitch of the lips, sitting his chin on the palm of his hands. "I thought we were done talking about me and the West?"

"This is different," he defended. "I'm just asking why you know about this place. Italy never took us anywhere like this for the G20 formalities."

"Well, of course he wouldn't," he said, idly swirling his drink around. "Just think: if you have a nice and peaceful park that's meant more for relaxation and you also have more famous and historically significant places available, then you would rather take your visiting diplomats to the latter, right? So Italy takes you to Palatino and Campidoglio instead of here. If it were you hosting the meeting, you'd take them to Monas instead of Taman Surapati."

Indonesia thought about that for a moment, but no matter how much he wanted to argue, he was forced to accept that Philippines was right. Then he frowned. "But you just take everyone to Luneta."

The other nation winked. "It's to my benefit that Luneta just happens to be both historical, relaxing, and beautiful. Makes my life a lot easier."

"You're not actually answering my question," he pointed out.

Philippines simply hummed, leaning back on his chair. His hair was blowing in the cold autumn breeze. "There's not much to say. I've had to visit a lot recently, since Italy is full of my migrant workers, more so than anywhere else in Europe. But when we were younger, Romano used to take me here often. The things he'd say — well, now that I think about it, I think you could relate."

He almost choked on his spit. Indonesia had never been in much contact with Romano, especially as his younger brother was always the one who represented Italy in their meetings, but he couldn't see any similarity between him and that foul-mouthed, angry brat. At the very least, he liked to think he was much more friendly and polite.

Uncharacteristically, the other nation didn't take the opportunity to laugh at him this time. Instead there was only a faraway look on his face, pensive as he stared out into somewhere unknown.

After a moment, Philippines finally said: "Do you still remember being with your old empires?"

Indonesia stilled.

"I know I don't, but you were old enough to remember living with the other maritime nations together as Nusantara," the other nation continued. "There was a glory that you could remember living before Portugal and Netherlands came to your shores. You weren't Majapahit, but you carried his legacy and his blood; just like you carried Srivijaya's.

"Romano lived at Spain's like I did, you know. He liked me for some reason, probably because I used to get sick all the time and couldn't really annoy him as much as the others. One day, he took me to Rome for the first time. I was so amazed at finally seeing all the old ruins I used to read about in books, and then when I looked back at him, he was crying. He told me it was like he could never escape the shadow of his grandfather."

Philippines' smile was terribly bittersweet. "I remember thinking that, for the first time, I was grateful I couldn't remember who I was before Spain came. And ever since I met you again, I kept wondering if you ever felt like Romano did. Maybe you had all that burden on you and you never told us. Maybe you felt lonely too."

He remembered.

Back when all of them were just children, back when he had never seen fair skin except for when he traded with the Eastern Asian nations up north. China and India, of course, were always present. Vietnam was older, and despite all the fighting she did, it never looked like she was ever frazzled by it. Myanmar was the same, but because he was so distant and preoccupied with his own kingdoms, Indonesia saw him the least. He would see Khmer more often when she had to pick up her sons, cheerful Thailand, friendly Laos, and belligerent Cambodia, from whenever they decided to come by. In their household, Malaysia was already energetic, but he was always doubly so whenever Singapore was around; those were the days that the smaller nation still admired his brother. Timor Leste was still sweet and shy, hiding behind him at every hint of danger. Brunei, quiet as ever, spent his time diligently picking flowers for a young Philippines across the sea. Steady, dependable Majapahit had welcomed them all with a smile, and taught him to do the same.

Indonesia grew up without ever really knowing what loneliness was. Even after Majapahit had already faded away, Netherlands had visited him much more often than was necessary or appropriate for a normal colonial relationship. And though he was separated from the rest of them, his siblings were never too far from him either.

So he had to take care of them too, when he could. He had to, because he was the one who remembered the most about what life was like, before. He had to, because he was the oldest. He had to, because that was what Majapahit taught him. Whether he began to feel more and more weary as the centuries passed by and his own territory expanded didn't matter, because being able to take care of as many people as he could — that was the greatest power any nation could ever have.

Of course he remembered. He never let himself forget.

A gentle nudge from Philippines shook him out of his silence. Softly, he said, "You don't have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable. Believe it or not, even I know when to back off."

"Sorry, you just caught me off-guard," he said, taking a moment to compose himself. Then Indonesia sighed. "You're not normally so serious. I was completely unprepared."

Philippines pouted. "Is it really all that surprising? I just thought, since you asked me a pretty personal question just now, it's only fair that I do the same to you. Answering that made me feel sad, so you needed to think of something that made you sad too! At least the both of us can feel sad together, instead of just me being sad all on my own."

Indonesia felt his eye twitch. "Your logic is really something."

The other nation just laughed, as if nothing happened at all. Then he stood, his grin wide and his hand reaching out to him, and said, "Come on, it's a complete waste for us to come here if all we're going to do is sit around! You can see all of Rome from Gianicolo, you know."

They watched the sunset from the hill's peak, and seeing the yellows and oranges being reflected in Philippines' purple eyes made for a pretty sight. As the sun shone its last light on the ancient ruins of the Roman Empire, Indonesia felt strangely at peace for the first time since he arrived. Maybe he'd even ask Philippines to properly introduce him to Romano one day.

-----

The Eternal City was beautiful even at night, but Indonesia just felt tired. He could sense that Philippines still wanted to go around with him — he mentioned something about taking him to a turtle fountain? — so they settled for slowly walking down the hill. They chatted about mundane things like food, gaming, and the merits of motorcycles over bikes, and it was unexpectedly nice. For some reason, Indonesia felt as light as air. He still wanted to go home as soon as he could, but he slowly realized that he wasn't all that opposed to just spending time with the other nation either.

"Say, Indonesia," Philippines suddenly said. "Do you know how to get back to your hotel?"

Indonesia took that back. He wanted to go home immediately.

The other nation giggled. "Don't tell me that you don't even remember which hotel you're staying at?"

He quickly turned his head away. He willed himself to look anywhere but the other nation, but he could still feel how Philippines was staring at him.

"Ah! I get it now," Philippines said, delightedly. Indonesia internally cursed himself. "Let me guess. You didn't have any plans of going anywhere but the meeting, the hotel, and the airport, so you thought it was fine if you left your phone behind and if you didn't care to remember your hotel's name. And, you kept falling asleep at the hotel shuttle that takes you to the meetings, so you can't even tell me about the nearby landmarks! My, how careless of you, Indonesia!"

"Why are you so smart," Indonesia grumbled, "for the most stupid of things?"

"I don't hear any denial," Philippines sang. "Well, whatever, that works out for me. Unless you're game for scouring through the dozens of hotels around the city, I guess I have no choice but to take you back to my place, huh?"

He faced Philippines, who was scrolling through his phone again, and said, "You don't have to do that. You can probably just ask Italy which hotel he arranged for me. I can take a taxi."

The other nation hummed. "Going from his Instagram stories, he looks like he's too busy partying with the others. Looks like France even brought out his special wine for the occasion. Hey, would you want to party with them? The bar they went to is just a few stations away by metro."

The last time he went to a G20 party, he and Germany were made to strip so that everyone could stare at their pecs. The expression he made must have been grim, as Philippines immediately backtracked. "I'm going to take that as a no."

Indonesia sighed. "Well, I don't want to disturb Italy and I don't want to waste any money trying to find another hotel. If you're really fine with me staying with you for the night, then I guess I have no problem with it either."

Philippines stopped in his tracks. "Eh? You're not going to make a fuss about it?"

Indonesia tilted his head, quizzically. "And you are?"

For some odd reason, the other nation seemed flustered. He was gripping the strap of his bag tightly and his cheeks were pink. "Well, you know, you're normally so averse to any of my ideas, and you always seem so annoyed with me. I thought, for sure, that you were just going to argue against me again . . ."

"Do you really think so lowly of me?" Indonesia frowned. "I wouldn't have been with you all day if I hated you."

That seemed to perk Philippines back up. He could practically see the sparkles in the other nation's eyes as he faced him and gleefully said, "Ha! You've admitted it! So if you don't hate me, does that mean that you actually like me, Indonesia?"

He couldn't hold back a smirk. "Don't get too ahead of yourself."

Philippines just laughed, cheery and bright.

When they stepped down from the bus, Indonesia was surprised to be faced with a block full of old apartment buildings rather than a fancy hotel. Evidently, the other nation was familiar to the residents; one old lady had grasped him firmly by the hand with a gummy smile as she engaged them in small talk. Philippines then took him to the second building on the right and led him through a few flights of stairs to a dark, wooden door.

The apartment was small but clean. Two bedrooms and a bathroom, then some communal space with a worn sofa and a dated television. There was a kitchen with a countertop, rice cooker unplugged, and more than a few succulents sitting by the window. The other nation's usual travel bag was still on the floor, a duffel bag easily recognizable by the numerous flag patches stitched by the sides as a memento for all the countries he had visited. A small corner was developed into a personal home altar, figures of Jesus and the Virgin Mary surrounded by flowers and golden crosses. Even though it was emptier than Philippines' own home back in Manila, it was still undeniably his in its coziness and warmth. All in all, it was modest and good; certainly more than what Indonesia expected for an apartment that the other nation probably only visited a few times a year.

"It's cute. It fits you," he said politely.

"Aw, you think I'm cute," Philippines teased. He was hanging his overcoat on the coat rack, which was a bit too tall for him — a sliver of skin showed only for a moment before being covered again by his turtleneck top. Indonesia pretended he didn't see. "Please go ahead and sit down, make yourself comfortable. Oh, won’t you take off your suit and place it somewhere? The good thing about Europe is that it’s a lot cooler here, so you can still wear it tomorrow without worrying about sweat and stuff."

“I knew that, at least.” He placed his suit on a nearby chair and sat down on the sofa. Philippines set a saucer full of biscuits at the table and gave him a glass of water, which he gratefully drank. As the other nation sat down beside him, Indonesia couldn’t help but ask, “Is this place really yours?”

“My government didn’t buy it for me like all our other properties, if that’s what you’re asking,” Philippines said, reaching out for the biscuits. There was an audible crunch as he bit into one of them. “One of the Filipinos living here bought it for her son, but he decided to move in with his girlfriend. She thought it would be a waste of money to abandon it, so she gave it to me. When I’m not here, it gets rented as an Airbnb. We share the profits. It’s actually pretty good passive income, you know.”

Indonesia gave him a wry smile. “You always find an opportunity to make money, somehow. I’d say it’s America’s influence, but I know for a fact you’ve been this way since we were kids.”

"My skill is all mine, thank you very much," the other nation boasted, leaning back into the sofa with a self-assured smirk. “I don't suppose there's anything else you remember about me from those days? I assure you, if you thought I inherited my charm from Spain, you'd be dead wrong.”

Your hair used to be so long, he immediately thought. He had taken care of it meticulously, washing it with several oils so it was always smooth and wonderfully scented. Gold adorned almost every inch of his body, painstakingly crafted with the tiniest details, contrasting beautifully with the vibrant textiles used for his clothes. Even as a child, Philippines was already used to traveling often — Tondo and Seludong would take him up north, Butuan and Sulu down south, Sugbu and Panay at the center, and a dozen more kingdoms in between. He loved his boats the most, and Majapahit would patiently humor him by letting the younger nation talk his ear off about the latest developments his different kingdoms had with their boatmaking.

Not that he had ever tried to listen in, or attempted to make prolonged conversation with the other nation. At the time, Indonesia was too busy trying to handle Malaysia and Singapore’s chaos to pay much attention to anyone else. He hadn’t gotten to know Philippines all that well until they met again centuries later; older and more jaded, irrevocably shaped by the circumstances their colonizers had placed them in.

Sometimes he wondered what life would have been like if things had turned out differently. But he didn’t have the energy to waste his time despairing over it all again, not when Philippines was still looking at him so expectantly.

“Your eyes haven’t changed,” Indonesia decided to say. “And as for everything else I remember, there’s nothing I haven’t already told you about before.”

Philippines smiled at him fondly, “You’re as terribly succinct as ever.”

Indonesia smiled back, “And as always, you’re just as annoyingly persistent.”

For a long moment, they just sat there on the sofa in silence — easy and comfortable and bathed in the apartment’s warm, golden light. The windows were open, and guitar music from the neighbors was softly permeating the room with its slow, relaxed melody. It was during these kinds of moments that Indonesia's heart felt full; that all he's been through in the past few centuries were worth it, if it meant he could enjoy more days like this. The mood was right and he felt good; perhaps if he was braver, he would have had the confidence to make the most out of it.

Eventually, the moment passed, and the other nation stood. "It's so late already! I should probably get to preparing our dinner. You can freshen up before we eat, if you want."

"Right," Indonesia said, hastily standing up as well. "Ah, may I borrow your phone? I just need to check on something."

Philippines didn't really answer, but he heartily belted out the lyrics to some old love song as he brought out a pot and a chopping board from the kitchen cabinets, so he took it as a yes. Ignoring how the photo for the lock screen looked suspiciously like the sunrise at Bali, he put in the PIN code — 8862, how sentimental of him — and was immediately bombarded by the number of notifications he got. There were messages from everywhere: SMS, Facebook Messenger, WhatsApp, Instagram, Twitter, Telegram . . . it's really no wonder that Philippines was named both the texting and social media capital of the world. Indonesia had no interest in intruding on the other nation's privacy though. As he ducked into the bathroom to wash his face, hands, and feet, he did a quick Google search for sholat times rome.

If he was home, he wouldn't have needed to Google such a thing; the mosques would have already blared adzan through the loudspeakers, reminding everyone in close vicinity that it was time for prayer. His overseas workers would sometimes complain to him about how difficult it could be to pray once they were abroad, that strangers would sometimes gawk at them in public or their employers wouldn't give them the time or space to do it properly in the office. Indonesia often had nothing to offer them but his sympathies. Tonight, he decided, he would pray for them.

"Are you going to pray?" Philippines called out. He was placing a tray in the oven. "Head to the back, go in the room on the right. It should be peaceful there."

"Thank you," he said, and when he opened the door, he was greeted with a welcome surprise.

Though the room was otherwise plain, a vibrantly orange prayer mat stood out — Malaysia's picking, no doubt. Indonesia raised his hands facing kiblat, slow and reverent, and made the mental note to thank his brother later. Thanks to this, he felt significantly less alone.

-----

Philippines made a quick sign of the cross as he sat down on the table. He grinned, "Let's eat!"

It was a modest meal: baked fish with lemons, Filipino-style chop suey, white rice, and a bowl of what was unmistakably Indomie Mi Goreng. While Philippines had poured out a glass of white wine for himself, Indonesia had a glass of orange juice. The other nation was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal, though Indonesia chalked that up to hunger; Philippines ate quickly and ravenously, shoving spoonfuls of rice and noodles into his mouth without pausing for so much as a single breath. Indonesia felt tired just watching him.

Once they were finished, Philippines patted his stomach with a satisfied sigh. "Ah, that's the good stuff."

"My compliments to the chef," Indonesia said, which made the other nation giggle. "Though I have to say, I would have cooked it differently."

"I know, but then it'd take longer and I was already so hungry — I'd even go as far to say that I was absolutely famished." Philippines groaned, slumping in his seat. "I mean, I know we could've just eaten at some trattoria down the road, but I needed rice. And I wasn't going to settle for some dumb risotto, no matter how delicious it would be. You get me, don't you?"

"It isn't a full meal without rice," Indonesia agreed.

The other nation nodded seriously. "I always felt like something was missing while I was growing up. It wasn't until I was allowed to go back to Manila that I figured out that it was rice. I haven't looked back since."

Indonesia had always known that Philippines had lived in Europe during the centuries that he was a Spanish colony, but hadn't thought any deeper about the smaller implications that had on him. Some things were obvious — his devout Catholicism for one, and the conspicuously Hispanic human name he used in his daily life — but little things like this caught him off-guard. He said, "I'm sincerely very sorry to hear that."

Philippines did nothing but take a long sip of his wine. "No need to pity me so much, it's in the past now. I don't really think about it."

"I'm not pitying you," he muttered, though he wasn't able to look Philippines in the eyes as he said it. Then, louder: "I'm just realizing that there's still so much I don't know about you. I'm your neighbor, and I don't even know what your childhood was like."

Philippines smiled at him, but it was strained. His face was saying I don't want to talk about it even as he softly confessed, "I don't know all about your history either, Indonesia. Not enough. The sentiment goes both ways. And as for my time with Spain . . . well, what is there to say, really? He said he would take care of me, and he didn't. Not in the same way he took care of the others. Whether that's a blessing or a curse, I don't think I'll ever really know. I just know that it's over now, and I'm grateful.

"I bet your experience was different though." The gaze the other nation leveled on him was nothing less than dangerously curious. His purple eyes were filled with strong contempt, but contempt for what, Indonesia didn't know. "Like I said, I don't know the specifics. But I've been told your relationship with Netherlands was something else entirely."

"He and I weren't—" he stammered, more of a knee-jerk reaction than anything else.

But the way Philippines was looking at him made him stop. He took a deep breath and calmed himself; the other nation deserved something more honest than that.

He still remembered how tightly Netherlands had gripped at his arm, decades and decades ago, his scarf flapping helplessly in the wind. Despite all the things that had gone unsaid between them and the years that they spent together, the blond was still unbearably silent. He used to admire that stoic demeanor; tried to emulate it when he was feeling overwhelmed, always so determined not to embarrass himself or the empire. Back when Netherlands had declared him the emerald of the equator, the crown jewel of his power as a nation . . . it had taken all he had to choke back his pride. It had taken all he had to keep his secret, that budding idea that he was meant to be more than just somebody else's precious colony.

Indië, Netherlands had pleaded, and suddenly the great Dutch Empire had seemed so small.

"It was different," he finally said. "But I don't think it was any better, in the end."

With a bittersweet smile, Philippines simply raised a toast. "To tomorrow."

In answer, Indonesia downed the rest of his orange juice in one go. This time, Philippines' laugh was more genuine, and he couldn't help but stare.

He had noticed this before, of course, but now — with the other nation elegantly sitting across him, his purple eyes glittering bright, and the wine glass so tantalizingly close to his lips — Indonesia was stricken by how right at home the other nation looked. Even Singapore, who probably had the most business with the Western countries out of them all, was more guarded whenever he stepped foot on European soil. Yet Philippines wasn't out of place here in the same way that Indonesia felt, and had instead carried the same easygoing attitude he had during their own ASEAN meetings. As much as the other nation's energy and eccentricities irked him sometimes, he also found himself in awe of him as well.

The others were right. If Philippines hadn't come, he would've spent all his free time wallowing around in his hotel room just feeling sorry for himself. But instead, he was enjoying himself more than he thought he would. Hesitant as he was to admit it, he almost found himself wanting to stay in Rome a little bit longer, if it meant the both of them could spend more time together.

"You're not leaving for Munich anytime soon, are you?" Indonesia said, daring to be hopeful.

Philippines rested his cheek on his hand. "If I remember right, the tickets Prussia bought for us were for tomorrow morning? He gets way too excited about Oktoberfest, you know."

Why do I even try to be happy, Indonesia thought darkly.

"Ah, don't look so glum! You have me all to yourself for the rest of the night," Philippines winked. "But I have to warn you, Pien is having his precious beauty sleep in my bedroom, so if you have any special requests we're going to have to be very quiet about it."

"Nothing like that," Indonesia quickly said, his face hot. "I just thought, I might as well treat you to somewhere nice. As a thank you for, uh, taking care of me today. But my flight back home is tomorrow night, and you're catching the morning train with Germany, and now I'm starting to think that we don't exactly have the time . . ."

The other nation waved it off. "We're nations, mahal. We have all the time in the world. Besides, we'll be meeting again for the APEC conference coming up in November, right? I don't mind waiting until then."

"But I do," he grumbled. "And again, don't call me mahal."

Philippines finished his drink and set his glass delicately on the table. "You can promise me that you'll let me sing half the songs when we go karaoke with the others. Or that you'll pay for my food the next time we have a group dinner. Oh! When Thailand makes a mean comment to me in the next meeting, you have to defend me. Say something like Filipino BL series are better than Thai BL series, that'll really get him going."

He was suddenly reminded of how frivolous the other nation could be sometimes. Either that, or worryingly low-maintenance. Indonesia built up the courage and forced out, "I'd rather make it up to you when the two of us are alone."

This time, it was Philippines who was staring. Flustered, Indonesia rambled on. "I just mean—you know, you spent all this time with me even though you didn't have to. So it's only right that I spend more time with you too, just the both of us. It's not good enough if the others are there too."

Philippines offered, "We could watch a movie before we sleep?"

"I'll probably just pass out in the middle."

"Maybe you can make breakfast for us tomorrow?"

"You gave me snacks, dinner, and a place to sleep, there's no way just a breakfast is fair."

"Well, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to spend a night over at your place?"

"It's not about you, not really. It's just, I want to do something for you. Something you want."

"I've been telling you what I want, but you keep saying it's not good enough, I don't understand—"

"It needs to be special, okay? Is it so bad that I want to do something nice for you—"

"It's not bad, I just don't get why you're being so picky about it. Like, isn't doing me a favor enough for you? Isn't this just about paying me back? What is it that you want to do with me exactly?"

"No," Indonesia stressed, feeling like he was about to lose his mind. "I want—"

He paused.

What did he want, exactly?

Philippines just smiled at him, patient and knowing and just the slightest bit sad, and stood. He was carrying his plate, and as he passed by Indonesia he gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. When Indonesia looked up to face him, the other nation's eyes were soft. "I know I've said this to you before, but I'll say it again. I can't know things if you don't actually say it. Alright?"

Then he walked away to the kitchen sink, absentmindedly humming to himself, leaving Indonesia all alone at the table. The words I think I want you died on his lips.

-----

Later, after reflecting during his night bath, Indonesia found himself in a panic.

He wasn't a complete idiot. He's known for a while that Philippines was the only one who could fluster him like no other, but he often chalked that up to the other nation's cheeky character rather than anything else. His attraction to Philippines wasn't surprising either; it was no secret that he liked looking pretty, and to be honest, Indonesia has had worse crushes. But he was also steadily coming to the conclusion that his feelings went deeper than mere infatuation, and he couldn't help but wonder: why fall for the other nation in particular?

Philippines was an ally, someone he had founded and managed ASEAN with in a show of regional strength. Philippines was a friend, someone he had spent countless days with over the years along with all the other people he treasured in his life. Philippines was a stranger, someone who still felt so foreign to him despite everything. He could trace out the curve of his smile in an instant, and at the same time, he didn't have the faintest idea what the other nation was doing in the 1920s. He knew that watching a cheesy romcom was the surest way of brightening up his day, but not the exact nature of what Spain had done to him as a colony. And, for the life of him, he still didn’t understand the slightest bit of how verb conjugation in Tagalog worked — which felt especially embarrassing the day he found out that Philippines had been putting in the effort to learn both Bahasa Indonesia and Bahasa Melayu so he could communicate with the rest of the maritime nations better. He'd understand his own heart easier if he fell for Malaysia or even Netherlands — people who he had shared a deep and culturally signifcant history with in his extremely long life as a nation — but Philippines was, to put it sadly, not like that to him.

And yet, as Indonesia stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, all he could think about was how much happier he looked now compared to his bleak and boring morning.

He changed into the clothes that Philippines had laid out for him on the bed and had a brief thought of just going to sleep for the night. Pramoedya, if he were still alive, would chide him for such cowardice. Indonesia ended up at the other nation's door, nervously trying to build up the courage to knock. But Philippines must have heard his footsteps, as he called out: "I know you're out there! Just come in!"

Just like him, Philippines had already bathed and changed to more casual sleepwear; he was wearing a loose sweater and shorts that showed off his legs. He was sitting upright on his bed, looking amused at whatever he was staring at on his phone screen, and his face broke out into a warm smile when he saw Indonesia hesitantly trudge inside his bedroom. Pien was already sound asleep in a little makeshift bed on the desk.

"Sit here," said Philippines, while he scooted over to give him space. Indonesia gave him a look. "I'm being serious. Just move your arms a bit and—yeah, that's it. Aren't we cozy?"

Now they were both sitting on the bed, with Philippines between his legs and his arms around Philippines' waist. Cozy was certainly a word for it.

"Now you're just teasing me," Indonesia grumbled, but he didn't move away either.

"Me? Tease you?" Philippines fluttered his eyelashes at him. "Why, I'm just a poor tropical nation made to suffer through the unbearably cold Autumn months in the Northern Hemisphere! I'm severely in need of some aid and assistance, but I'm sure you and all your hundred active volcanoes can keep me warm for tonight."

"You're horrible, you know that?" he said, though he was unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. Philippines laughed with him, giddy and gleeful. "You don't know how anxious I was before this. It's not fair that you can just make all that go away so easily."

Philippines leaned back on his chest, smug as a cat. "Call it a gift. By the way, our neighbors want to know how you're doing. Anything you want to say?"

Now that he was right behind the other nation, he could see that his phone was opened to the ASEAN group chat. It seemed like everyone was spamming the chat with pictures of their pets again. Indonesia rested his chin on Philippines' shoulder and said, "I'm doing just fine. Tell them I mean it this time."

If the other nation was flustered, he betrayed no signs of it. He had now moved on to chatting with the other ex-Spanish colonies; they were all talking in Spanish and Indonesia couldn't understand a thing. "I'll tell them when I'm sure it won't get buried by everything else. But, you know, that's really good to hear. My influence, I hope."

Indonesia buried his face in Philippines' neck as an answer.

"So needy," Philippines murmured, who had put his phone down to pat his head. "Perhaps you really were lonely?"

"Not as lonely as you used to be, I think." At this, Philippines stilled. Indonesia tightened his hold on the other nation's slim waist even further, almost afraid that he would drift away. "About that question you asked, earlier at the cafe . . . I don't feel burdened by how great my old empires were. I've felt the pressure to make them proud, but I've never felt like it was a burden. Their legacy is my life and my connections to all of you, you know? I've certainly never felt like it made me lonely.

"And then there's you, and I know it's not the same for you, because you can't even remember — and that's fine, Singapore doesn't really remember much either. But Malaysia remembers enough for the both of them, and then there's me, and I remember the most, but then there's you, and you don't have that."

Here, Indonesia exhales a shaky breath. "Spain took you, and America took you, and Japan took you, and that's four centuries of you just being gone from me. We're neighbors yet we're so different, to the point where we don't share the same language, the same religion, the same food, the same history . . . and you have friends all over the world and you seem so happy all the time, but I don't think I've ever realized how lonely you must feel."

All Philippines did was sigh. "I told you not to pity me."

"I'm not pitying you," said Indonesia. "I'm just sorry."

All this time, he had been so in awe of how Philippines found it so easy to adjust to Westerners and Western culture when he himself found it so difficult. But now, with the realization that the same ability to connect with others may have also translated to an inability to connect with him and the rest of ASEAN, that same awe felt so bitter. How many times had Philippines stood awkwardly to the side when he spoke to Malaysia and Brunei in his native language? Kept worryingly quiet when they were wistfully reminiscing their pre-colonial pasts? Tried to tell a joke to lighten up the mood during a meeting, but because of differences in culture and history, it just fell flat?

Indonesia was startled out of his thoughts with a painful pinch of his cheek.

"Of course you're going to be sorry if you make me sound so depressing," Philippines pouted at him, annoyed.

He sputtered, "What? I mean, I just thought—"

"Do you take me for an idiot, Indonesia?" He pinched Indonesia harder, which made him yelp. "Don't you think I'd be well aware by now of where I stand with all of you? That after sixty years together, I would've realized that I wasn't as involved in your history as everyone else is in maritime, or everyone else with each other in the mainland?"

With a huff, Philippines let him go. Indonesia tried to soothe the sting of it by putting his hand on his cheek. He almost didn't hear the other nation murmur, "Do I seem that pitiful to you?"

"Not pitiful at all," Indonesia scrambled to reassure. Philippines leaned back on his chest, still looking a bit miffed. "I don't know. I just had this sudden thought that maybe we're just a bad reminder of how much Spain and America took away from you. Maybe you're actually uncomfortable with us."

Maybe you're actually uncomfortable with me, he thought, though he kept that to himself.

Philippines simply stared up at him, eyes bright, and said, "Well, if you only realized it today, then maybe you should've considered that it isn't actually a problem."

"You could just be very good at acting like nothing's wrong," Indonesia pointed out.

"Or you can think about this: maybe there really is nothing wrong in the first place," Philippines said, a wry smile growing on his face. "I founded the association with you, you know. Maybe the rest of you were there because of old ties or whatever, but I joined precisely because I wanted to build new ones. I don't really care if I feel awkward sometimes. I'd certainly find it boring if all of you were exactly like me anyway."

The other nation was so carefree about it, but Indonesia still felt conflicted. He admitted, "Maybe the problem is just that I feel awkward. I have no idea how to approach you as a nation."

"So don't approach me as a nation. Approach me as a friend," Philippines said, not unkindly. To get the point across, he put his hands over Indonesia's in a show of comfort. "You're allowed to act outside the interests of who you represent, you know. We're people too."

Indonesia kept quiet. There had been times when he privately felt like Philippines was his exact opposite — a lively, energetic person that focused more on his human side rather than the nation side, and someone whose duties were considerably more worldly than his own: having to regularly travel to dozens of countries to check on the millions of Filipino citizens that were working abroad. Meanwhile, as such a large and diverse country, Indonesia tried his best to ensure that every single one of the people that lived within his borders felt heard. It was difficult sometimes, but it always felt meaningful to him — his people were his essence, and he couldn't let politics force him to forsake them again. Acting for his personal interests felt as foreign to him as leaving his house sometimes. Not that he never took time for himself; he tried, but a lot of the time he had to be convinced to do so. Sometimes Singapore would invite him for another tour around his house, or Malaysia would drag him into some new restaurant where they would inevitably fight over the food. But more often than not, it would be Philippines pushing him and the other Southeast Asian nations out of their shells and setting up parties, taking them to his fiestas, and prodding and annoying all of them until they would finally agree to ASEAN hang-outs like the one at Bali. Indonesia could admit harboring a deep suspicion for the other nation before, thinking that he was more in line with American interests rather than his own, but over the decades that suspicion had faded. Despite all his efforts to the contrary, he had grown on him, and now Indonesia couldn't imagine his life without him anymore.

He didn't know much about the Philippines as a nation, not much more than he needed to be aware of for the sake of diplomacy and the association. Yet as the years went by and he got to know more and become friends with Philippines the person, he discovered someone who was equal parts obnoxious and endearing, foolhardy and clever, petty and proud and unbelievably kind. And as he looked at him now, there was something in the curve of his smile and the light in his eyes that told him that things would be alright if he took things a step further — something that told him that the other nation had been anticipating this for a long, long time. Heart over head and heart over country, it emboldened him to take the leap.

"I don't want to approach you as a friend either," Indonesia murmured, and because he couldn't help himself, he leaned down and kissed him.

Philippines sighed happily into his mouth as he kissed back, warm and blooming under his touch. Their kiss was relatively chaste — Indonesia had seen the other nation make out with others for a drunk dare with more passion than this — yet he couldn't complain. It was sweet and soft and lasted only for a moment, and more than anything, it was a promise: that they can take things slow, and that they had all the time in the world to get to know each other better.

Their foreheads touched, quiet and tender, and Philippines laughed softly. "It's so ridiculous," he said, his eyes filled with mirth, "that I've been waiting for so long for you to realize your feelings, and when the time finally comes that you do, you managed to confess without really confessing at all. Only you, Indonesia."

"I'm shy," he said dryly, and the other nation burst into laughter. "If you wanted a real confession, you probably could've done so yourself."

"Ah, but there's no fun in that! I like the thrill of being chased, you know," Philippines preened, wagging his finger in mock admonishment. Then, more shyly, he admitted, "Besides, if I made a move on you before you were ready, you might've just pushed me away or feel forced to return my feelings even if you didn't. If I waited, at least I could be sure you wanted me too."

"So all those jokes you made before were supposed to be you holding back? How subtle," Indonesia teased, his eyes crinkling. He held the other nation closer, smothering him with small kisses all over until what little sadness on his face disappeared and was replaced with giggles and brightness. He turned Philippines' head to face him properly and said, "I'm scared that I won't know how to balance my duties and my personal life as well as you do, and I'm scared that we'll be too dissimilar to really work out. But until the day that our differences force us apart, I'd be happy to spend my time with you."

Philippines pulled away from him slightly, an oddly vulnerable look in his eyes. "You're sure you really want something with me? That this isn't too far out of your comfort zone?"

"Oh, it's very out of my comfort zone," Indonesia said. "But recently, I've been learning that maybe it isn't so bad, you know. As long as I'm with you."

"As long as I'm with you," Philippines repeated, with a growing smile. "I like the sound of that."

They continued talking well past midnight, at some points laughing so hard and arguing so loud that poor Pien was startled awake by all the noise. And as the other nation reached out and pulled him under the covers so they could hold each other until the morning, he found himself reaching back. They kissed until their lips were red and they got so tangled up in each other until they couldn't distinguish between their own bodies anymore; despite how differently the day turned out from how his usual trips to Europe went, Indonesia swore that the unfamiliar city never felt so much like coming home until that night.

-----

"Where the hell is my sweater," Philippines groused.

"You threw it on the floor last night, it should be under your bedside drawer." Indonesia kissed his forehead and, keenly aware that he was not a morning person, gave him a cup of his precious coffee. He could tell his efforts were appreciated when Philippines greedily gulped down the scalding liquid. "Selamat pagi, sayang."

The other nation only pouted at him. "Don't call me sayang."

"After all the stupid things you've called me through the years? I'll call you however I like, thank you very much," he shrugged. "Besides, I'm not the one who has to leave in a few hours."

Philippines groaned as he pulled his clothes over himself. "This is so stupid. We finally get together and now we have to be separated like this? I mean, I'm really glad and I like you a lot and all, but I really wish you had a better sense of timing right now."

"I think you'll live." Indonesia hid his smile behind his cup. "I mean, you were the one that said you don't mind waiting until November to see me again."

"You just keep making fun of me," Philippines whined, cuddling up to him. Pien had even jumped up to nuzzle his neck, evidently just as clingy as his owner. "Where's the romance, Indonesia? The sweet nothings in my ear? The poems and songs you surely must've written while you pined for my presence? Am I to despair forever, having only been loved by a phantom version of yourself that will never return?"

"You've been watching too many telenovelas," Indonesia said, quickly setting both of their cups somewhere else before they had any accidents. At this, the other nation gasped dramatically and collapsed across his lap. Despite himself, he started chuckling at how ridiculous Philippines was being — really, how could he not find him so endearing?

Then Philippines suddenly turned serious. He stared up at him, his gaze piercing. "If you don't want me to go, I can just make up dumb some excuse again, you know. Just say the word."

Indonesia humored him. "And why wouldn't I want you to go?"

"Because I can't be there for you if you feel alone again," he muttered, expression tense and his mouth downturned in an angry frown. "I just feel bad that I'm leaving you so soon."

Yesterday, he would've been right to be worried. Indonesia probably would've found some roundabout way to say that he'd much rather for Philippines to stay just until he could see him off at the airport later that evening, if only to stave off that achingly empty feeling of waiting to go home and resenting time for moving so slowly. Philippines would have laughed and teased and inevitably posted about the day's events on his Instagram, to which Indonesia would look increasingly more exhausted with each new update, but he nevertheless would have allowed Indonesia to get away with delaying his plans to make him more comfortable.

But as it was, now Indonesia only remembered the way the other nation's eyes had twinkled in excitement when he mentioned Munich, so it was little trouble for him to simply smooth back Philippines' bangs and lightly say, "Actually, I was planning of sightseeing on my own today."

"Oh?" Philippines looked surprised — and pleased. "You are?"

Indonesia couldn't stop himself from flushing in embarrassment. Really, it had only been a passing thought he had after finishing his morning prayers, but . . . "All of you are always going on about how I can't enjoy myself abroad, so. I figured it was time I gave it a try."

Though Philippines probably knew he was still rather uncertain about it, he smiled anyway. "Well, as long as bring your phone this time, alright? I'm always just a text away if you need it."

"And here I thought you'd say some cheesy line about me never truly being alone since you'll always in my heart," Indonesia said, and Philippines was startled into laughter as he sat back up. "Don't worry. I've survived a long, long time without you by my side. I can take a little longer."

Philippines pecked him on the cheek, sweet and domestic. "Not too long, I hope. I can't wait to see the look on Thailand's face when we walk into November's meeting hand in hand. Maybe I should make a vlog about everyone else's surprised reactions."

"Whatever you like, sayang." Indonesia smiled as he stood, his hand reaching out. He pulled Philippines into a kiss — a deep one this time, slow and sensuous and full of all the things he felt too strongly to properly express in words — that left them both breathing heavily by the time they pulled away. Feeling uncharacteristically suave, he whispered, "Though I would prefer it if, in the short time that you're still here, you keep all your focus on me."

"Always, mahal." Philippines smiled back, eyes as bright as ever. "Always."

-----

Notes:

Title comes from the lyrics of How Deep Is Your Love, but specifically, it's a reference to the Christian Bautista cover. Bautista is a Filipino singer, and his cover was very popular in Indonesia a few years ago.

There are a lot of things I've had to simplify and outright ignore for the sake of story, most egregious being the fact that Indonesia actually wouldn't be the sole Southeast Asian nation in a G20 meeting. The chair of ASEAN is a permanent guest invitee, and since the current chair is the Sultan of Brunei, Brunei would probably in the meeting as well. Alas, Brunei isn't canon yet as of this writing. Sorry, Brunei!

Mahal and sayang are both terms of endearment in Tagalog and Bahasa Indonesia respectively, but with a catch! Mahal is a word that also exists in Bahasa Indonesia, but the meaning is "expensive" rather than "love" — in Tagalog you can use the word both ways. Sayang is a word that also exists in Tagalog, but the meaning is "What a waste" or "What a pity" rather than "love" — in Bahasa Indonesia, you can use the word both ways. So essentially, you have Philippines and Indonesia trying to be sweet to each other, but the other interprets it as a weird insult instead. It's really funny and really cute.

More detailed notes and references on my previous Tumblr post here!

#indophil #hws philippines #hws indonesia #aph philippines #aph indonesia #hws #mine

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urlocalbunny · 4 years ago

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Hello ! I hope you passed the exams you took. I am happy to be able to reapply. My question about boys is this : let's say the boys and Eloise can go to an amusement park at night. Wich amusement would the boys prefer ? (Ferris Wheel, ghost train, roller coaster) Have a good day or a good evening !

This headcanon was ready and I tried to post it but tumblr was hungry and ate it. I'm really upset and sorry for the delay but i got upset and took some time from it~

Aaron:

He likes the Ferris wheel and the games where you get prizes🥺.

As in Aaron is not vocal about any toys they go in until the ride begins. He's not boring, boy has good conversation and he CAN flirt.

He laughs and yells normally like everyone else, of course, but he's fine with whatever and he only cares about kissing Eloise and eating churros until his cheeks are chubby. Until...

I want one ticket, please." He grabs the water gun and shoots the targets easily, handing Eloise a big wolf plushie, blinking his eye and smiling as in "it's a secret, but I'm giving this to you because I am an actual wolf. Nice, huh?"

Eloise is full of bags and Things She Said "I Want It" And She Got Them™, then he looks up.

"I like the ferris wheel." Eloise runs to buy tickets and tackles people to get them if it's over. No regrets. Her man wants ferris wheel.

As soon as his feet are off the ground, he dangles them and giggles. "That's so nice. Does your tummy feel cold?"

When they're watching the view from above, Aaron sighs longingly while he looks at the forest and the manor. Then he turns to her and his little eyes are shining uuuugh. "I'm so glad I met you, my beloved."

The day ends with a sweet, heartfelt kiss and a hug.

Raphael:

He likes the rollercoaster. The worse it is, the funnier it feels. Spinning around and feeling the wind whip your face while you can't see a thing is freaking crazy!!!!!

He squeezes Eloise's hand while they tighten the security bars and his head spins while the cart approaches the peak. And then.

"ELOISE, HOLY FU-" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH" and they fall into oblivion. He laughs his ass off while everyone screams in horror, and he throws his arms around as he feels himself being driven upside down and sideways until he has to gasp for air and his legs feel funny because that's just So. Much. Fun.

Eloise is yelling like crazy and praying for people he doesn't know in languages he doesn't know and he doubts that exist. She cursed a lot and for a moment he felt her hand squeeze his chest while trying to find support. He was red all over from so much laughter.

"RAPHAEL, ARE YOU OKAY?" he hears Ivan yell in the front, probably from the spot they waited on. He yelled back as much as he could before speaking.

"THIS PARTICULAR TOY IS INCREDIBLE AS FU-" "HELP ME YOU SILLY BATS"

He stepped down with a bounce on his step, Eloise by his side, grasping his arm for dear life. He heard the others approach them as he smiled.

"you said fuck."

"I would never say foul things. Eloise won't let me. ||("

Beliath:

He loves the scary rides with the cart. He sits on it and he pats his side so Eloise can climb uncertainly. She huffs. "You're gonna yell so quick. Gosh."

"BWAH" "UAAAAAAAAAAAAAH." "And that's on being such a liar."

The ride begins smoothly and so does Beliath, holding her hand and kissing her in the darkness, trying to play it cool and saying he will protect her of the ghosts and then the cardboard ghosts fall off the ceiling.

"I'M LEAVING. I'M LEAVING. DON'T TALK TO ME!" He holds Eloise close as she sighs, leaning into her seat.

"tell me how can a literal demon be scared of cardboard. I guess a moron will always be a moron." "Don't talk to me like that! That was scary and nothing prompted it. The next one won't be scary because I know."

After a good bit of screams and Eloise being squeezed like a pillow, they finally seemed to be ending their ride. However, one of the poor actresses let her plastic eyeball fall from her forehead and it went rolling near the carts. She went to get it, but Beliath noticed her.

Seeing a running monster with a hand over their third eye yelling "WAIT!" wasn't really good for his heart. He hopped out of the cart and left running and screaming a high-pitched sound.

The result was Eloise laughing her ass off in the cart while the others waited with confused faces. Ethan would never let this die. They're immortal.

Vladimir:

Baby likes the bumper cars so much! He'll spend his WHOLE TIME there if he can.

Every time he crashes he starts laughing heartily. Tries not to crash with all his might tho, just to annoy Eloise.

"Your car is supposed to crash!" "Too bad it does not, right?" "You'll see!"

He becomes a child, smiling like a little rascal as he races through the other cars and Eloise crashes behind him. His eyes glimmer when Eloise laughs behind him and mocks his long legs perched up on the toy.

He even has the odd urge to mock the boys waiting near the toy. Aaron curses back and laughs a booming laughter while Beliath covers his face with his hair trying not to laugh too loudly. Ethan looks grossed out and Ivan is already red and crying of laughter.

After a good chase, he turns his car the wrong way on purpose and smashes against Eloise's car, making her yell. They laugh together for a while but soon they make up a plan to smash everyone's cars >:).

They end up crashing against everyone at least once before the ride is over. The others look at him quizzically only to be met with the usual Vladimir. "What is it? Is something the matter?"

When they begin to walk home that night, Vladimir stayed behind with Eloise and held her hand, giggling as if they had a secret to hide. His pearly white teeth shone under the gaps on the tree branches. He winked at her, skipping home.

Ethan:

HEAR ME OUT I'VE HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR FOUR MONTHS I PROMISE. I'll paste this here.

The others go in another rides and he lifts his index finger to his lips and smirks, raising his other hand with the palm up. She looks back at the group in line for a roller coaster, but she holds his hand instead. She's his chalice anyway, they should try to get along more even if they were friends already.

Ethan runs through the crowd practically dragging Eloise, first to a churros tent and then to a less noisy place that was up a few flights of stairs. The guy stops skipping and walks slowly until they're in line for another toy that doesn't seem full of people yet.

"What is this? It's high, isn't it?" She asks with concern, eyeing him suspiciously. He shrugs, rolling his eyes and smiling as if she didn't know about real fun at all. "This, little pest, is a Flying Coaster."

"Why is it called like that?" "You'll see when we're on it." He says as he pays for the ride this time. They get up in it and he's practically buzzing. Eloise notices he hid the churros on his coat and when the security employee moves back to her place, the cart leans forward. She gulps. "Ethan, why are we looking at the floor?" "Chewrrows?" "You're chewing churros in out deathchairs?" "Nuish One, haha!"

The toy starts Actually Moving™. She then realizes they were a little higher up as her finger grazes the top of a tree three times her size. Then it's too late. "SON OF A- UAAAAAAH!"

Ethan laughs like he didn't in a long while and watches the moon from the highest point in the roller coaster while gulping down his churros as Eloise curses and kicks. At some point they look down and see Beliath's terrified eyes staring at them as Eloise curses at them too. "YOU FREAKING CLOOOOOOOOOowns!"

When they get down from the toy, he thinks Eloise will be mad and regrets his decision, but then she leans into his arm and starts laughing. Her hair ia disheveled and she grabbed his other churro (it was for her don't let him trick you) with the prettiest smile he had seen in a while.

"... Suddenly I feel weird. The roller coaster made me nauseous, let's get the fuck out of here." "I think it's your heart, Ethan-" "Shut up, you demon."

Ivan:

He likes easy rides, don't @ me. Eloise is in the amusement park with him, he won't go apeshit like he did before. He must be... CaReFuL wItH HeR. But with a little coaxing, he mumbles that he likes the Twister Rollercoaster and Eloise digs completely.

He jumps like a little kid twice and pays to enter, sitting close to her. Since it's kind of late, the front seat is just the two of them. He looks at her tenderly and holds her hand. "Will you be fine, babe?" "Yeah, don't worry about it."

The ride begins to move and Ivan kicks around a little and squeals. Eloise giggles, holding his hand as best as she can. He squeezes back, smiling like that made his whole year better.

As soon as the carts begin to go down the line, he yells in excitement and lifts his hands, looking at Eloise. She's just as excited, screaming in joy as the carts spin around. He wished he could take a picture of Eloise looking like a pineapple with her hair upside down.

"you look like a pineapple!" "Don't make me tell you how you look, please!" They laugh at some woman yelling a funny sentence and screech when the cart seems like it's going to derail in the dip. A camera flashes several times during the loop and he thanks the gods above for that.

When they make it back, Aaron is tapping his foot on the floor. "You both could've flies into space!" "You don't mean that. Look." He lifts the picture of Eloise with red luminous eyes and a ominous smile while Ivan straight up yells towards the camera, both upside down and with their hair messy.

The picture gets framed by Vladimir. Eloise isn't allowed to take it off by votes.

#moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers headcanons #sfwbunny #ml ethan #ml aaron #ml beliath #ml raphael #ml vladimir #ml Ivan #bunny's writing #moonlight lovers fanfiction

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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20 with Vince?

20. *walks in* Hey guys. What the- okay. *walks out*

Happy blurb weekend y’all

You were never a fan of your birthday. There was no real reason, it was just a day you would rather spend following your normal monotonous routine rather than making a big fuss about it. You were past the age of major milestones like 13, 16, 18, or 21, so why should you make a big deal out of another day? Vince tried to convince you to do something the last three years you were together, failing to do anything other than letting him take you out to dinner, something he already did frequently since his cooking was awful. This year, he didn’t even bring any plans up, just kissing you good morning and again when you left for work.

You go through the normal routine, going to work, doing your job, having lunch. After lunch, you find a box on your desk, Vince’s handwriting on the note attached. ‘I know you don’t want to make a big deal, but happy birthday. Love you, Angel - Sunshine.’ You smile at the box, rolling your eyes at the present thinking it was going to be some sort of gag gift. Opening it, you find a gold necklace, the chain purposefully twisted. The charm was an angel, the body a teardrop cut of your birthstone, the head and wings small diamonds. You gasp at the sight of it, putting it on immediately.

“Wow,” your coworker, Jen says, seeing the jewelry around your neck. “That’s stunning.”

“It’s from Vince, for my birthday.”

“Wait! Today’s your birthday! Happy birthday, why didn’t I know?” she starts yelling, you desperately trying to shut her down form causing a scene.

“I never make a big deal about it, Vince I guess just wanted to get me something,” you brush it off, praying that she doesn’t do any more than just wishing you a good day.

Instead, she sits down on your desk, knocking off some of the papers in the process. “What does he have planned for tonight?”

You shrug, picking up the scattered papers, “I’m assuming other than the necklace, nothing.”

“What?” she shrieks, ignoring the shushing that you keep doing. “He’s doing nothing?”

“I don’t want him to.”

“But it’s your birthday,” she whines.

“It’s just a day.”

The two of you start bickering, going back and forth about whether or not Vince needed to be doing something for today. You’re interrupted by a delivery person standing over you, a bouquet of your favorite flowers with our name on them. ‘Don’t come home until 5 pm - Sunshine’

“Who’s Sunshine?” Jen asks, reading over your shoulder.

“Vince. Can I please work now? I need something to do until I’m allowed to go home.

She leaves you at your desk, finally some peace for you to panic over what he could possibly be planning for the night. You weren’t keen on surprises, and knowing Vince, that was exactly what he had planned.

Close to five, leaving the office, you call Vince. “Whoever is in our home better leave before I get there.”

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of our home when I didn’t do anything wrong this time.”

“Vince,” you whine, getting in your car.

“Can’t you just trust me?” he asks. You swear you heard someone shush someone else in the background, groaning at the idea of the surprise party he was clearly throwing you. He probably invited his teammates, they would get drunk, and then you would be left cleaning up the next morning before work while Vince stayed in bed hung over.

“I guess,” you say, “I’m a few minutes away.”

“Love you, Angel,” he says.

“Love you, Sunshine.”

You pull up to your home, Sammy’s car parked a little bit down the street, Jen’s not far behind his. Both of them had to be there. This was a surprise party. It had to be. Vince was so bad at planning things well that he couldn’t even plan a simple surprise party without you figuring it out from the slightest tip. You gather your stuff from your back seat, going up. You take a deep breath, unlocking the door. “Hey, Vince,” you say, only to be interrupted by some of yours and Vince’s friends yelling surprise, Vince appearing sheepishly from behind the door. “What the- okay,” you say, turning around to leave.

“No, no, no, come on. It’s small,” Vince says, taking your stuff from you and bringing you back inside. “It’s the people you care about the most, and all we’re doing is eating dinner together. Please stay?” he pouts, his lip sticking out as he wraps his arms around your waist, “You deserve one night where everyone you love celebrates you.”

You sigh, looking at your closest friends standing in the living room, glasses of wine in everyone’s hand, the most incredible smell coming from the kitchen which told you Vince ordered dinner from somewhere he probably knows you love. “Fine,” you say, him pressing a kiss to your cheek, “This is the only birthday you’re allowed to do this for, though.”

“Works for me!” he says, leading you to the table that was covered in your favorite foods. Your friends had all brought small presents, Jen buying you your favorite wine because Vince apparently didn’t think to tell her about the party until earlier that day, after your conversation at your desk, Sammy got you a shirsy they had Blais written on the back to spite Vince, along with a gift card so you and Vince could have dinner at your favorite restaurant, John getting you a signed copy of one of Chrissy Teigen’s cookbook, Natalie got you tickets to see the Cardinals play the Yankees, your favorite team against the team that your dad’s family loved.

Last was Vince, even though he already bought you flowers and the necklace, he slid one last box in front of you. A small, velvet box that held a diamond ring, the diamond bigger than the ones in the necklace. “What is this?”

“I wanted a way to make your birthday a little more enjoyable, so what better way than asking you to marry me in front of those who loved you most.”

“You’re proposing?” you ask, completely shocked.

“I thought I was the dumb one,” he laughs, earning a swat on the hand from you while he holds up the ring in front of you, “What do you say?”

“Of course,” you tell him, your friends screaming as Vince slides the ring on your finger.

#vince dunn #vince dunn imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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joshuas · 4 years ago

Text

christmas spirit

♫ pairing: park jinyoung x reader

♫ genre: slice-of-life, crack, fluff

♫ word count: 2.9k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ summary: After a disastrous Secret Santa event two years ago, Park Jinyoung and you had carried an intense rivalry throughout the years. Will the christmas spirit be enough to mend your fractured relationship?

♫ a/n: I’m excited to finally post my first Christmas drabble of the month, with none other than Park Jinyoung as my muse. A little forewarning - a lot of these oneshots have at least some crack concept behind it (at my friends’ requests). Enjoy!

“You’re such a Scrooge, Y/N. Purposely working on Christmas? What have you gotten against “unnecessary gathering of extended family to awkwardly talk about what’s happened in your life, and being constantly hounded to get married by family members that you barely know, and exchange presents with people that have probably gotten you the same thing every year”? You barely show any Christmas spirit.” Your friend, Mina, scoffed, watching you get ready for work. “Okay, first of all, that was a direct quote so everything is wrong with what you just said, since it was literally my argument as to why family Christmas gatherings with extended family is dumb, and yes I do! Look at my scarf! It’s red.” You defended. “Christmas colours are red and green.” She rolled her eyes. “What kind of Christmas spirit are you talking about then?” You raised your eyebrows, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh you know. That hallmark Christmas movie magic - random acts of kindness to strangers, carolling, making dinner for someone who doesn’t have anyone to celebrate the holidays with.” She said dreamily. “Yeah, no. That sounds like a lot of effort and requires talking to randoms.” You said disgustedly. “Well then, I dare you to be kind to the first person that enters your workplace, if you’re so deadset against helping out ‘randoms’.” She smirked. “...fine. But joke’s on you. I doubt anyone will be working on Christmas.” You waved your hand dismissively, grabbing your car keys. “We’ll see.” She smiled mischievously.

Work was extremely quiet, as expected. No one had come in, all opting to spend time with their families over actually getting stuff done. With deadlines in place straight after Christmas, you felt it was your duty, as assistant manager, to support your fellow colleagues in actually being able to meet that deadline. Another, more motivating aspect for you, was wiping the smirk off the other assistant manager, Park Jinyoung’s smug face. You hummed, typing away, “That sentence makes no sense.” A voice taunted over your shoulder. You turned, coming face to face with... speak of the devil... Park. Jinyoung. Even saying his name made your nose crinkle in disgust. Being probably one of the most irritating, hopelessly obnoxious perfectionists this world has ever seen, he was constantly getting on your nerves. You opened your mouth, then shut it instantly, remembering what Mina had dared you to do. Biting back a snarky remark, you fixed your face into a placated, polite smile, “Oh. Jinyoung. Are you the only one in today?” Please don’t be. Please don’t be. Tell me at least one person walked through the doors before you. He scoffed, “What? No comeback? I think you’re going soft on me, Y/N. And of course no one’s coming in today. No one’s as much as a workaholic as you.” You raised your eyebrows, “Speak for yourself. I’ve never seen you come in on a holiday. Don’t you usually hang out with your girlfriend or something?” Something flashed in his eyes, before returning to a blank, guarded expression, “I- You know how much I love to one-up you, Y/N. I’m not here for you. I’m here to beat you.” He sat down in his cubicle beside yours, turning on his desktop. “So... how did you know I was here?” You raised your eyebrows questioningly. “Mina told me.” He said without glancing from his computer screen. “I don’t understand how she’s friends with someone like you.” You muttered, typing away at your report. “What?” Jinyoung screwed his face up in annoyance. “I said—“ be nice, Y/N, “I said would you like a coffee? I was going to make some for myself. Tell me how you want yours made.” You internally groaned as he actually considered what you were saying. “I’ve literally never seen you use the coffee machine. Who’s to say that you won’t poison me?” He said dubiously. “I’ve used a coffee machine before. It shouldn’t be too different.” You said defensively. “...Alright, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say yes — just black coffee for me.” He leaned back against his chair. You reluctantly got up, forcing a nod and a small smile as you entered the break room.

Turns out the machine was a lot more different than the simple maker you had at home. Wasting half an hour on trying to figure out how to turn on the machine itself, you were seconds away from tossing it in the bin as Jinyoung sauntered up to you, reaching from behind you to flick the power switch on. Swallowing back an irritated remark, you gritted your teeth, painfully expressing your gratitude, “Thanks.” “Now, a thank you? What has the world come to? Are you okay?” He placed his hand against your forehead, “Are you sure you should have come into work today?” You delicately plucked his hand away, “As much as I appreciate your concern for my well-being, I’m perfectly fine and should probably be getting back to work.” “But what about the coffee?” He said, puzzled. “You’re obviously more qualified than me to work the coffee machine, so you can make your own!” You flashed him a grin, patting him on the back as you exited the room.

A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you, “I figured you probably still wanted a coffee. You like mochas, right?” You looked at him in surprise, slightly touched by the kind gesture, “Oh! Um. Thank you.” You sipped at the coffee, the warm liquid heating your insides. “It’s okay... wow that was weird to say to you... no comment on how bad it was? Whether I poisoned you?” He looked at you quizzically. “Well— it’s not too bad.” You swallowed your pride back down, allowing him just this one compliment.

The two of you had this rivalry as soon as you entered the firm. Being the ones pitted against each other since being interviewed for a position, as you went up the ranks, Jinyoung was always there. You were almost certain that your work colleagues had helped maintain this rivalry, purely for entertainment purposes. At first, the two of you were pretty civil... until your first annual Secret Santa event, where you both had each other.

[2 years ago] ‘...and now I’ve just been rambling. Basically, what I’m trying to ask is... will you go out with me? Who am I kidding, you probably won’t even read this...’ You crossed out the last sentence, adding the finishing touches to your note in Jinyoung’s present. You wrapped it carefully before heading to work, nerves eating away at you as you went over 100 different ways that Jinyoung would react to your confession. Get a grip, Y/N.

“Who do you have for Secret Santa, Jinyoung?” A gaggle of girls (who had an office pool going for who he had) surrounded the guy, hounding him for an answer on who it may be, and what he bought. “You know, asking him who he has basically defeats the purpose of Secret Santa.” You raised your eyebrows at them as they approached you and your colleagues in the courtyard. Jinyoung flashed you a grateful smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as the group of girls dissipated in annoyance. Your stomach fluttered. He was kinda adorable when he smiled. As the gift giving pursued, it soon came your turn. Smoothing down your clothes, you picked up your carefully parcelled gift, placing it carefully in Jinyoung’s arms. Slightly in shock of this revelation, he opened his present, eyes lightening up in excitement as he saw your gift. “Y/N! This— wow. How did you get this?” He gazed at you in wonderment. “Well, a couple of weeks ago you were a little bit upset about missing out on grabbing tickets for a certain author’s book signing. To be honest, it was purely coincidental... I actually really love that series too, and managed to grab tickets. So, I decided to buy you a signed copy of the latest edition.” You explained, blood rushing to your cheeks as everyone gathered around to see his present. He stood up, giving you a quick hug, “Thank you. This is probably the best Christmas gift I’ve gotten.” He whispered in your ear before returning to his seat. “So... Jinyoung, who did you have?” One of your coworkers questioned, looking curiously at the circular shaped present beside him. “Well... I actually had Y/N.” He placed the gift in your hands, his tone slightly laced with nervousness. Curious, you unwrapped the gift to reveal... a stress ball? Not gonna lie, that’s a pretty disappointing gift, considering what you gave him. Your coworkers teased and taunted, “Ooh Jinyoung, are you trying to say something to Y/N?” “What? That they’re a stress head? We all know that. Heck, they should know that.” “Haha... yeah. That’s exactly what I was going for.” Jinyoung said resignedly, trying to scope out your reaction and grab your attention. Dragging your gaze to his, you squeezed the ball, ignoring the unusual hardness within it (great, not only was it a cheap present, it was also faulty?), forcing a small but bitter smile, “Thanks, Jinyoung.” Of course he wasn’t any different to the rest of your toxic colleagues. You ignored the bitterness blossoming in your heart, tears burning in your eyes, as you excused yourself from the courtyard. Mentally cursing yourself as you thought back to what you had written at the end of the book, you prayed he’d never read it. After all, something like that could never happen now. Any feelings you had for Park Jinyoung had been replaced with resentment.

You weren’t one to get too upset over materialistic things like that, but after analysing every other gift he had gotten your fellow coworkers, regardless of the occasion, you felt as though he had been to stingy, perhaps because he disliked you. Perhaps, it also showed how fickle you feelings were for him, but you didn’t care too much about that. And so, the slightly unhealthy rivalry began.

After working solidly for a couple of hours, your stomach grumbled. Jinyoung glanced at you,

“Hungry already?”

Really? He was judging you over your bodily functions? “Of course not.” You turned back to your computer, ignoring further pleas from your stomach. “Y/N. I wasn’t saying that to judge you. I’m hungry too. How about we both head out to the courtyard to take a breather?” He rolled his eyes, and grabbed his lunch, heading for the door, glancing at you expectantly.

The two of you sat in silence on the bench, quietly munching at your food. “Do you remember when we used to do Secret Santa out here?” He asked, glancing at you. “Mhm...” You clenched your jaw. “Your gift still triumphs as the best Christmas I’ve ever gotten. I’ve re-read that book more than any one I own.” He smiled softly, recalling the memory. You almost choked on your sandwich, “You read the book?” “Well... that’s generally what you do when you get a book.” “The whole book?” You pleaded silently for him to answer in the negative. “From cover to cover.” He nodded. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Sensing the silence, he spoke tentatively, “I read your note, as well.” You covered your face with your hands, refusing to interact with him. “...and—“ “And nothing! What you read was just— just an illusion!” You blurted out, about to bolt. “Wait, Y/N. That day. That day was so confusing.” He grabbed your hand lightly, imploring you to sit down again. “Confusing how? As far as I’m concerned, you got me a stress ball for Christmas because I was too much of a stress-head.” Your tone defensive as you crossed your arms. “Wait— so you never found it?” His eyes widened in realisation. “Found what?” You said, annoyed at his cryptic tone. “Do you still have the stress ball?” He asked, impatient. “Yeah, I think it’s in one my desk drawers.” You said uneasily. “Wait here, I’ll grab it.” “But I don’t want you to go through my... okay never mind...” A couple of minutes later, he came back, stress ball... and a knife. You glanced concerningly between the two objects as he cut a square of the stress ball off, taking out a small box. “You seriously couldn’t feel this within it?” He asked incredulously. “Well to be honest, I was more upset at the fact that you got me a stress ball when you got other people better gifts... like how you got Mina the tea set she was vying to get for a while... Also, how? How did you even think of putting a box in there? That’s— I don’t even know. The fact that you think someone would think of getting a knife to cut open a present someone has gifted them astounds me. To me, it just felt like a faulty gift.” You retorted defensively. “Obviously my creativity and quirkiness was lost on you, seeing how you thought I was cheap-skating your present. And, I got you a stress ball because you’re almost always clenching your hands! Yes, you stress, probably a lot more than half the people in this workplace, but I didn’t get you that to make fun of you. Clenching your fists a lot can cause stiffness in your fingers which could lead to rheumatoid arthritis [I’m no medical student but I did some research. Please don’t @ me if I’m wrong!] in the future. I don’t think you want to be paying off medical bills worth ten times the amount of that tea set for physical therapy. Besides, the actual gift is within this box.” He sighed exasperatedly, handing you the box. You opened the lid, revealing the most exquisite looking earrings, the gemstones glimmering under the sunlight. Written underneath the lid was a note, Y/N, I don’t really know where to start with this... but I really like you. Your work ethic constantly astounds me, the way you’re able to complete any task you set your mind to is a quality I wish I had. Not to mention your selflessness and kindness - the way you look out for our team and always go above and beyond what is expected is one of your most admirable qualities. So I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but I’d love to take you out for a date sometime. In fact, meet me at Glow Café at 9am tomorrow morning. I look forward to seeing you there. Whether you see me as a friend or share the same sentiments as me, I’d love your company. — Jinyoung P.S. I hope you like the earrings! I heard that they were your favourite colour :) You looked up at Jinyoung in shock, your heart warmed at the sincerity and kindness of his gift. “I—“ He broke you off, “It looks like we both had the same thing to confess back then. Perhaps if things had turned out differently, we’d be in a different situation to what we’re in now. But hey, we can’t fix the past, but we can change the future. And as much as I adore our banter, I’ve missed talking to you normally without sarcasm.” He held out his hand in a truce. You raised your eyebrows, impressed at his sudden maturity, “Look at you. I guess you’re actually starting to act like an assistant manager for our team. Is the Christmas spirit getting to you or something?” You shook his hand dubiously. “Ha ha. If we’re being completely honest, your sudden kindness did help bring things into perspective for me.” He pointed out. “Really? Wow, the Christmas spirit did get to you.” You laughed. “To be honest, I haven’t really been feeling the Christmas spirit since Yuna broke up with me.” He laughed bitterly. “She broke up with you? Why?” You asked incredulously. “She thinks I’m too much of a a workaholic.” “Welcome to my world...” you sighed. A silence fell over the two of you, as you contemplated in your head. “...So, you’re not spending Christmas with anyone?” He shook his head, looking dejectedly at the ground. Oh whatever. Do it, Y/N. Embrace the Christmas spirit. “Do you want to spend it with me?” You asked tentatively, “as friends. Obviously.” You added quickly. “Are you sure?” He asked, eyes wide. “Dead serious. I’m trying the no sarcasm thing, as you can see.” He laughed, “Okay. I’ll come. As a friend... Do I need to make anything beforehand? Do you need help with cooking? Do you know how to cook? I mean seeing how well you did with the coffee machine, I’m kind of concerned.” He questioned. “Slow down, Gordon Ramsey. Of course I know how to cook. I’m an adult, for God’s sake. And no, you don’t need to bring anything but yourself.” You smiled, standing up. “You speak so much about the Christmas spirit. But this. This is peak hallmark Christmas movie cliche.” He noted, lightly elbowing you. “I guess it is.” You shrugged your shoulders as the two of you went back to work, laughing and chatting away, as friends that had not seen each other in a while. Perhaps it was the Christmas spirit that had brought the two of you closer together. After all, the two of you spent many more Christmas’s together... not just as friends.

✿ masterlist!

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oakandcirrus · 4 years ago

Text

a hallmark movie but better and gayer

inspired by ‘tis the damn season and my own aching heart.

rating: pg

word count: 1.6k

description: you’re going home for christmas, rekindling an old flame, discovering small miracles.

read on ao3: sunshinecorvid

you’re a writer living in LA and you have to go back to your hometown for the holidays. you aren’t looking forward to it, you didn’t leave on good terms and you haven’t been back in years. the flight is a short one but it felt like days. you stared out the window, lost in the nostalgia and the freedom laden haze of your teenage years, the love and the friends and finals and sneaking beers up to clark’s point to watch the sunset, your first kiss, your first heartbreak, your father telling you to get the hell out as soon as you were eighteen.

you land. it’s cloudy like it always was, the mountains white with fresh snow instead of the green of spring or the golden fire of autumn. there’s a pang of regret, regret that you ever left, regret that you ever came back. you had no idea what was waiting for you but you were sure it wasn’t anything good.

your parent’s house hasn’t changed one bit. simple white lights around the porch, an evergreen wreath on the front door laced with red ribbons and holly. your father opens the door. he greets you with a hug, that’s new, you thought. he welcomes you inside, tells you your old room upstairs is all done up and ready for you. there’s the smell of mom’s minestrone.

you head upstairs and almost get knocked over by the overwhelming deja vu, memories coming at you like an ax to your skull.

you sit down, you don’t unpack. you aren’t staying.

instead you go through old journals and yearbooks you left behind, seeing faces you no longer had memories to go with, going oh he’s dead now, or she hated me, they liked me.

you stopped when you came to his face. sharp smile, bright eyes, soft heart. you remember his lips against yours, you remember being shoved away, the only time you’ve ever seen fear on his face, you remember being grabbed and held and loved.

you close the yearbook. dinner should be ready now.

your parents finally grew up. they didn’t understand at first, your father was livid at first, but he understands now. they both do. they ask about anyone back home. you smile, shake your head, and they exchange a glance.

it’s better than yelling. and a part of you wanted this. you ignored that part.

you eat dinner, they catch you up on what’s changed. the bakery closed down. oh no, you say, we loved that place. there’s a Starbucks there now. you frown, you eat your soup. it’s quiet. you mention it. your sister will be here tomorrow. enjoy it while it lasts, your mom says.

you have a beer, watch the sun die. just like you used to. you feel as if nothing has changed, but everything has changed. you tell yourself lies. that you are happy. that you enjoy your life. that you don’t miss this.

you are afraid of missing this. nothing has changed, everything has changed.

-----------------

you see him. you turn around and head in the opposite direction. no no no no. you keep walking. you pray he didn’t see you.

you pray he did.

-----------------

your dad is out of butter. there is not a single stick of butter in the house. apparently this is cause for war. mom needs butter for pie crust, dad needs butter for turkey and dinner rolls. you head out to buy butter.

it’s freezing. never got this cold in LA. ever. you had to buy warm clothes just to come home.

home. it had never been that before.

you walk into the corner market. the one that had always been there, a staple, a place locked in time. phil greets you at the door. phil looks like he should be dead by now, but for all you know he’s part of this place’s time magic too. you look over towards the refrigerated section and-

and you’re stupid. you’re the stupidest person alive.

you saw the truck. you saw red paint and mud-stained tires and the necklace you gave him hanging on the rear view mirror. you saw it parked outside the market. and you walked in. why did you walk in?

you see him. he sees you. he smiles, god that smile, wide and toothy and crooked, he waves. left hand, no ring. he’s wearing an apron that says marjorie’s market, he’s restocking the fridge. henley rolled up to the elbows, tight around his biceps and forearms. why are you noticing this? you aren’t.

you buy your butter. you leave.

you walk in the front door. lean against it and catch your breath, try not to lose it. there’s a log on the fire, the place smells like pine sap and smoke and sugar. your sister walks by. what’s up with you, she says. you scowl. some things never change.

you head upstairs. you aren’t thinking. you refuse to, you can’t.

but he’s there on the inside of your eyelids, lodged in your thoughts like the sly little fox he always was. not little, your lovely brain supplies helpfully.

no, not little. he had grown. boy was a man now. from scrawny muscle and narrow hips to strong arms and broad shoulders. same eyes, same smile.

did the same things to your heart.

-----------------

there’s a knock at the door. you look out the window. you panic.

there he was with his hands in his blue jeans and the always-too-big trucker jacket he’d finally grown into. he was nervous. you smile, you curse yourself.

your mom gets up, starts walking to the door and you cannot let that happen no matter what.

it’s too late.

there you are, she says with a smile, wrapping him in her arms. hows you and your father, she asks. dealing, he says. there’s something off in him, an ache in him that sparks an ache in you. you’re curious. your body remembers and it craves. to comfort, to hold. you missed part of the conversation.

mom closes the screen door, he stays right there, rocking on his heels.

like the air before a thunderstorm, charged with power and potential destruction, you feel your mom’s presence. she snaps your name, scolds you in a way mother’s always can, no matter how old you are. you’ve seen him twice, and you just left? she sounds appalled. she tells you to go talk to him, now. never leave a boy standing out in the cold, she says, bad manners. and with that, she heads back into the dining room to finish a puzzle she started last night.

you swallow your pride, your nervousness. everything that comes with seeing his face again, hearing his voice again.

you’re in a sweater, a sweater in a color that he always said you looked good in. that was an accident. you didn’t mean to bring it, you didn’t mean to put it on this morning, but here you were. here he was.

hey, you say, opening up the screen door and stepping out onto the porch.

hey, he says. you missed his voice. you hate yourself for it.

it’s awkward. there’s no debating it. you feel like jay and daisy. the tension of silent years and unspoken words and feelings hanging between you, tangling you together.

you can almost feel mom and dad’s eyes on the back of your neck. your sister was probably watching too, the little devil.

you ran away, he says, breaking the silence. he laughs, and you missed that too. literally, you ran away from me.

you bury your head in your hands. i’m sorry, you say, you’re laughing too now. you can’t help it. his laughter has always been contagious. the kind that makes you roll on the ground with stomach cramps.

you tell him you were nervous.

why, he asks.

everything, being here, it’s a lot of memories and... it’s a lot. a lot to remember.

how can you say everything you’ve ever wanted to say without saying a word? how can you tell someone how much they meant to you, how you crumbled when the space they occupied in your heart was empty, how can you tell someone all of the bruises and burns you had gotten because you had made a mistake?

though it wasn’t a mistake, leaving, it was beginning to feel like one.

he looks at you, into you, sees it all, like he always has, like you’ll always let him. but he doesn’t say a word except, do you wanna go for a drive?

you bite your lip. bad idea. this was a bad, bad, bad idea. you smiled, said let’s go.

-----------------

new roads, same destination.

his arms, his lips, his bed.

kissing under stars in the freezing cold.

minutes felt like days felt like seconds.

snowfall and fireplace crackle and small-town Christmas.

it was Christmas Eve, Christmas day, the day after. all in the blink of an eye.

Christmas Eve spent with him, spent sharing drinks, spent hands linked.

Christmas day, snowed in, he was home. talking to your dad, cooking with your mom. his dad came over, a sad sight without his wife, but we ate around the table, talking and laughing, it felt right. it felt like every day, it felt like nothing, it felt like everything.

and then you went back to LA. back to the smog and 75 in December. you weren’t going to keep him waiting if he didn’t ask you to stay. you had a life, sort of, he had a life, sort of. it wasn’t going to work. it couldn’t. because boyfriends don’t run to the airport to stop you from leaving just before your flight, and boyfriends don’t fly four and a half hours to show up outside your door drenched in rain and with a bushel of roses. grand romantic gestures don’t happen. huge miracles don’t happen.

but little ones do.

a phone call. a bag packed. an empty apartment. a plane ticket.

a home.

-----------------

tag list:

@caffeinatedmlm - @thewitchinghour445

ask to get added or removed. thanks for reading!!

#writing #original writing #creative writing #my writing #writer #writeblr #evermore #taylor swift #tis the damn season #gay #love #gay love #gay romance #mlm #nblm #spilled ink #spilled words #cody writes

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mama-ghostie-61542 · 4 years ago

Text

A Thousand Lifetimes

Rated M++ for language and themes

If you recognize it--IT AIN'T MINE

Sorry for the OOC-ness

Chapter 7

Kihyun

The next day, after two fittings with costumes, two phone interviews, a shoot for an ad, and a tv spot; I finally got back to the dorms, and back to that story.

Bryn PoV--

As if today wasn't bad enough, I walked into the house to find it completely empty. The kids wandered around and I tried to field a million questions about where they were gonna sleep and what we were gonna eat. That and the meltdowns every five minutes led me to try to call my little brother. I really just needed to talk to another grown-up. As soon as I had supper figured out, I called Joey.

"Hello," said a voice on the other end of the phone.

"Ummm. Hi?"

"Oh. Hello," The voice was familiar, but it wasn't Joey.

"Is Joey close?"

"Sorry. Who?"

"Sorry. Jooheon. Kids call him 'Uncle Joey'. Guess it stuck."

"Hmm. No. You just missed him."

"Dern. Can you pass on a message?"

"Sure."

"Can you tell him to call Bryn when he gets back?"

"Oh! I didn't recognize your voice, Bryn. How are you? It's Kihyun. Joey is in the shower. Can I help you with whatever you need," I asked, biting my lip and praying she would say yes. Just the sound of her voice was both soothing and somehow able to tie me up in knots.

"Actually, I was calling to vent. I've had a particularly terrible day today. Joey is my sobriety sponsor."

"He is? Wow," I said before Honey came charging at me, his hair still wet. "I would still LOVE to talk to YOU," I shouted.

"Gimmie my phone, Kihyun."

I handed him back the phone and heard him say

"What's up, Sis?"

Though I couldn't hear exactly what was said, I could tell by the look on his face, it wasn't good.

"Really?"

Then, Honey sighed. "Lemme see what I can do from here."

"Please, let me help."

If it were possible for him to get any more pissed off, he did. "HE WHAT," he yelled. Then, he pulled the phone from his ear and said, "I need a one way ticket to Peoria International!! I'm gonna kill him. I am gonna fuckin' kill him." Next, he put the phone back to his ear, "Lemme see what I can do here, Sis," he growled as he demanded numbers and wrote them down, and then hung up.

As he started digging on the internet to find the cheapest fare, HyunWoo said, "Hold it, Hot Shot. What happened?"

"That douchbag finally left. He took everything! Even the kids stuff. He left them with NOTHING! That is why Sis was calling. He cleaned out their account and took everything. Damn lucky he couldn't touch the shop accounts or he would have cleaned them out too. Literally everything. She needs a little cash to feed the kids til Friday."

"Thank God it is Wednesday," said CK. from the far side of the room. If anyone had bothered to look, the reflection on his glasses was an Amazon cart with 37 things in it. The only time ANYONE has that many things in an Amazon cart is when they are buying groceries. However, most of those were chips or snack cakes.

Honey, Min, and HyungWon all sat down to iron out how much and what they were gonna contribute.

Silently, I picked up my bank book and palmed the slip of paper with her info on it. Only HyunWoo saw me slip out the door. He stopped me as I waited for the elevator and handed me a few bills from his own wallet before turning back towards the room.

"What," was all I could get out before he interrupted, cutting me off mid-question.

"We look out for our own," He answered before he opened the door to the dorm.

After heading to the nearest Western Union, I called the number on the slip from Honey. When she picked up, I smiled.

"Hey, Bryn, it's Kihyun. I wired you some money. Should be about $100, if everything gets exchanged right."

"Kihyun, you guys didn't have to do that. My dad was already gonna feed the kids. I just needed to talk to someone. This has got me so shaken up, I want a drink really bad. Guess I wasn't too clear with Joey."

"Really? Then why was he," I stopped as a shadow fell over me. "Well, shit. Guess who is now standing right behind me."

"Tell him to calm down."

"Bryn says to calm down. She told me to sit on you if I have to."

"Kihyun! I did not."

"I paraphrased," I laughed. "Besides, Sweets, if looks could kill, I'd be dead right about now."

"Really," she chuckled.

"Oh yeah. He is probably gonna follow me all the way to the dorm. I guess I am not allowed out on my own," I laughed.

"Why," She asked.

"I tend to do dumb things, according to others. Though they may be a little impulsive, they always work out in the end. So don't look the horse in the mouth."

"I won't."

"Good girl," I laughed, "So why did you call him, anyway?"

"I needed someone I could yell at that would not take it personal."

"I am always here. Though, I may occasionally yell back."

She laughed. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Making me laugh. I needed that. "

"Damn. I was looking forward to the screaming match. C'mon, get it started, Angelface," I said as I stopped at the stoplight and waited for the crosswalk. "Do you want me to start," I asked, then pulled the phone away and yelled.

Bringing the phone back to my face, I asked as the crosswalk lit up and I crossed the street, "How was that," I grinned.

"A 10. A fuckin' 10. Have you thought of being a Rockstar," she laughed.

I could almost hear the smile on her face, which made me laugh. Even if my throat killed me in the morning it was worth it.

"Hey, hang on a second. I want to send you something," I said as I put my phone on speaker and started the camera.

"Oh dear God, what now," she asked.

I took a short video of me sending her a kiss and sent it off. "Nothing bad."

"Ok, if you say so. Just not cool with unsolicited dick pics from strange men."

"I would not send you unsolicited dick pics, nor am I a stranger. Now, if you asked for them...Like a good girl," I started and looked over at Honey, who was looking at me with the 'better never do that' face. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"I'm getting side eye."

She laughed and said, "I know just the look. It screams, 'You'd better not be sending photos of ANY part of your anatomy to my sister'."

"Yes," I laughed. "So how are you feeling? Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

"No problem. I'm here all week. Try the veal," I laughed. "Still want a drink," I asked.

"No. The laughs did it for me. Thank you."

"You are very welcome, Darling. So did you get the video I sent?"

"I did. That was very sweet. Thanks."

"You are very welcome, Pretty Lady. Well, we are back at the dorms."

"I should probably go then," she sighed.

"Just remember I am also available for Mitzvahs," I chuckled, which made her laugh. "Seriously, Sweetie, anytime you need a sounding board or a laugh fest, a screaming match or some naughty-Ow, Mother fucker!-I got smacked on my arm for that last bit. I am always here,"

"Thanks again. Until next time."

I paused and came VERY close to telling her how I felt but said, instead, "Again, you are welcome."

"Bye, Kihyun."

"Bye, Bryn," I breathed, then hung up.

Honey looked at me as he crossed his arms over his chest, "It took everything you had to not tell her 'I love you' didn't it?"

All I could do was nod and hope that my dreams tonight would be better than they had been.

As we got into the elevator, He said, "It was good hearing that you made her laugh."

"I love the sound of her laughter. Once I got her started, I didn't want her to stop. I think that she is just as funny as she is sweet."

"You do know that she will do one of two things, right?"

"What two things?"

"Either immediately send the money right back, or hang on to it and physically give you back every bit. She hates asking for help...of any kind," he said as he opened the door to our dorm.

"Yeah? Wonder why."

He just laughed, "Her ex-fiancée, ex-husband, and her father."

"What happened," I asked as I made us a pot of coffee.

"They all held every penny over her head. Her dad decided he wanted her out the minute she turned 18 and to do it, he threw her out the boat, so to speak. Said if she floated, she never needed help anyway; and if she sank, well, it was her own fault."

"That's abuse. Financial abuse."

"Yep. He was the kind to tell her everything she had was his, that she owned nothing; not even the clothes on her back. He comes from the 'I Own You' school of parenting. Her ex-fiancée would demand she work, then make her late, so she would lose any job she got. Then, he'd take any money she got paid and use it for crap he wanted rather than the bills she had it ear-marked for."

"Oh, tell me he didn't."

"Oh he did. Spent it on girls at the local under 21."

"Shit. He screwed around on her, didn't he?"

"Yep. Which is why if you ever think about cheating, I will castrate you myself," he growled.

Somehow I knew he would do it, and I would let him. "Don't have to worry about that. Can you tell me about her ex-husband?"

"That asshole was a piece of work. Emotionally, Mentally, and Fiscally abusive. The entire time they were together, he would pinch a penny until it died if it was something she needed, but she was expected to turn over her things and cash to him. She worked second shift in a factory; out of the house from half 1 to almost 1 am. He was in semi driver school at the time, racked up a HUGE amount of debt; I'm talking almost 40K. Constantly accused her of cheating when he had a different lot lizard every night. It's a miracle he never gave her anything."

I was disgusted by this guys behavior. To have a woman like her waiting at home and trying his best to break her.

"And that isn't even the worst of his offenses. He screamed at her one night while he was over the road, on training. She was at work, and he called her on her lunch break. The entire time, he screamed at her for having a cold sore and yelled about her cheating loud enough for her co-workers to hear. Her boss to tell her to turn off her phone; that he was tired of hearing that jerk yell at her. The guy he was learning with, told him that 'If I were her, I would be calling the lawyer first thing in the morning, after that shit.' He 'apologized' pretty quickly after that."

"Icky. I hope she ended it there."

"No. That girl has a ton of stay and No show. He ended up deployed to Egypt and told his brother about the girls there. Never thought his brother would run and tell her. She still didn't leave. You left a blister on her cheek one night and he threw her out in the snow."

"Stay and no show? I'm not sure I understand."

"Horse terms," came a voice from the doorway. I had forgotten Hoseok was staying with us while his apartment was getting the pipes fixed. "When a filly is learning to ride, it's said she is full of Show and no Stay. Meaning she looks good, but is too skittish to stand still. Sis--Well Sis may not look like much, but she has tons of loyalty to those who show her the same. She has the patience to play a 30 year long game, and the courage to weather ANY storm. But she has a problem knowing when to leave, and so she gets hurt."

"Hold up! He threw her out in the snow?!"

As Hoseok filled his own mug, he answered, "Yeah, he threw her out of the apartment in the middle of a snowstorm. Lucky her parents were in town. So if you start this with her, and you ever want out; you are gonna have to straight up tell her to go. She won't understand otherwise. She doesn't play games and has a tough time with subtly. So always be direct and honest with her."

I nodded taking it in. There was something I thought I wanted, so I asked, "How is her aegyo"

"If you are looking for overt aegyo, don't. Hers is subtle but she has got it in spades, and she doesn't even know it. It's in the way she plays, either with her guy or her kids," he said as he leaned against the counter, "It's in the subtle blush when you say or do something for her without her asking. It's in a compliment and the smiling eyes that comes with it. She has never had some of the things other girls take for granted, like a stolen kiss or flowers on her birthday. Other things, like those romantic gestures, she has only had once or twice. If I remember right, the last guy to 'play' was an FWB years and years ago, and that guy only stole one kiss, once," Honey replied.

"Don't expect her to run with girls. Most girls find her too harsh, too rough. She doesn't appreciate girls and their whiney, gossipy ways. She never wears makeup, and I have never once seen her with her nails painted. She is a guys-girl, a tom-boy through and through; wasn't made delicate. She is stronger than most people will ever know. However, her heart is extremely delicate, it's been broken and bruised so bad, even I wonder how she is still alive. So, let me tell you, right now," Hoseok said as he sat down his mug and leaned over the counter in my direction, "She may not be blood, but she is my sister."

"Hmm," I nodded. "You really don't have to worry about that," I replied. "How are you related to her again," I asked.

"Distant cousin. Her auntie married my mothers little brother, for all of five minutes. I am only gonna tell you this once, if you hurt that filly in ANY way; you wont walk again."

"Got it," I replied, cringing.

"You know that she won't ask for what she wants or needs. You are gonna need to be damned good at reading between the lines, cause she is so afraid that if she tells you what she needs, what she wants, you will do the same thing every one else has done," Honey said after a minute.

"Run," I answered nodding.

"Yep. Most men can't handle her intensity so they either run or try to turn her down to levels that they can handle without realizing that her fire isn't meant to be dimmed, but fed. She is gonna need you to be just as emotional as her, to show her that it is ok to feel again. She is very touch oriented, very tactile. So a lot of her feelings are touch related."

"I understand, Joey."

"You had better. The only reason I didn't beat the shit out of the other assholes, is that I wasn't there. If I had been, I would have had no problems with a few months in the county lock-up. And if Clark had tried that shit while I was there..."

"Really?"

"Yeah. See, the shit of it is, she fades into the background. She doesn't want all those things that other girls want. She isn't the kind to run or chase. She doesn't play games. She is also emotional. Ease into it. Don't try to love bomb her, she went through that shit with Clark and won't put up with it from you," Hoseok said, then turned to Joey, "Speaking of, did you hear what Lone Elm called him?"

Joey shook his head.

Hoseok grinned. "Elm called him a fuckin fishstick."

Joey started laughing, "Elm called him 'Fishstick'."

I looked back and forth between the two men who were holding themselves up on the counter while they laughed. "I don't get it. What-What's a fishstick?"

A hand landed on my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Changkhyun standing there, an amused look on his face.

"Fishsticks are only available in the States. They are mashed-up fish paste, about an inch wide by around six inches long, which is then breaded. Then, they are to be baked in an oven. Either they turn out soggy or they are hard as a rock; inedible either way. Which is good, because they are fuckin' gross. Nasty little things."

"Are they like the fish at Mickey's?"

"No," CK stated. "The fish there is actually decent. Fishsticks are generally served in school hot lunches on Fridays due either to religious reasons, or because they are cheap and can be purchased by the gross. At any rate, they are still inedible."

"Icky. How in the hell can people do that to their kids?"

"Not a clue. That was why I always took my lunch on Friday. Every Friday, the hot lunch was always the same thing; rock hard fishsticks, soggy tater tots, dehydrated-rehydrated mixed vegetables, and golden glow salad with mayonnaise on the top. It was the grossest meal I have ever seen in my entire life."

I shuddered to think of those poor kids. Forced to eat that nasty stuff.

After reading that, I was glad her kids never had to eat that. She fixed boxes for them. School lunches in the States sounded gross.

'Some things were ok.'

'I thought you took your lunch, Mami?'

'I did. My dad said cold lunch was cheaper. But, there was one day, once or twice a month, that I would get school lunch. They called it pork pattie day, but it was a breaded pork tenderloin on a bun. It was pretty decent. It was pretty gross the rest of the time, but that day wasn't too bad.'

'Have I watched you fix those before?'

'Not sure.'

'Are those the sandwiches where you beat the pork chops to nothing and then bread and fry them?'

'Yes.'

'Those do look pretty tasty,' I said as I dug around for what to fix the next day, so I could write it on the board. 'Hmm. Help, please. Can't figure out supper.'

'Whatcha got?'

'Hmmm. Some sausages, some tiny shrimp, and a package of chicken,' I said as I dug around in the freezer.

"You can use the shrimp and chicken in Gumbo.'

'It has been quite a while since I've had Gumbo. I've never made it before though.'

'Look it up. There are a million Gumbo recipes out there.'

'I think I will do that. Thanks, Baby. Have I told you, today, how awesome you are??'

'Yes, but I can always stand to hear it again,' she laughed.

A/N)--The above abuses......actually happened. First hand experience.

#original writing #my writing #original story #twin flames #twin souls #soulmates #soul mates #soulmate #soul mate #past life #astral travel #spirit projection #fanfic #fan fiction #monsta x fic #kihyun fic

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golbrocklovely · 6 years ago

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twisted // colby brock - chapter one

A/N: NEW STORY!!! I’m so excited for yall to read this. It’s gonna be nothing like ‘only the lonely survive’, so I’m interested to see what you guys think. Please let me know what you think of this first chapter. I know it’s not much to go off of, but the next chapter really gets into the story, and is also 2000+ words long so its a bit of doozy lol HMU if you wanna be added to the taglist for this story so you know when it gets posted. Now, on with chapter one! :)

description of the story

trigger warning: cursing

word count: 1531

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know where I am. But I can feel something’s coming close to me. I see I’m surrounded by black smoke. I can’t see anything but it. It feels like it’s getting closer to me. I can barely breathe with it around me.

“Angel…” I hear it whisper to me.

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. I feel tears run down my cheeks.

“You’re in danger…” It whispers to me. Louder and deeper this time.

I open my mouth, but my voice is gone.

Everything grows silent. It’s too dark to see anymore.

“WAKE UP.”

I jolted awake, breathing fast and deep. My skin was damp, a cold sweat sitting on my chest. I feel like I just ran a marathon. I sighed, grabbing my phone to check the time.

10:33 A.M.

Time to go to work…

I grabbed my camera that was sitting at the end of my nightstand. I flipped the screen up, turning the camera on.

“Hey what’s up you guys. I literally just woke up. And guess what? I had another weird dream. Third night, or day, in a row. This was different but still fucking weird. So in it-“

I was cut off by a loud bang. I sat up quickly, glancing at my bedroom door.

“Yo, what the fuck was that noise? I swear, it sounds like something’s in my kitchen right now. I live alone, so what the hell was that?” I whispered to the camera.

I slowly inched myself out of my bed. I creep over to my door, putting my hand on the door knob.

“In case I don’t make it out alive, I love you guys.” I muttered, pointing the camera to my face, nodding slightly.

I counted to three, and swung the door fast, screaming at the top of my lungs.

“What the fuck?!” Colby yelled, dropping the water bottle in his hand on the floor.

I sighed, annoyed. “Colby! Why are you in my house?”

He grabbed his chest, close to his heart. “Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me!”

“You scared the shit out of me!” I yelled, “Why are you in my house?”

He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I was hungry.”

I rolled my eyes, pointing the camera back at me. “And this, kind viewers, is why you never give your best friend keys to your place. They’ll break in, make you think you’re gonna get murdered, and steal your food.”

He laughed, smiling widely. “I only break in because I care… about your food.”

I giggled back. “Shut the fuck up and make me breakfast.”

“Yes sir.” He smirked.

I shook my head and turned off the camera, placing it down on the counter. “Fuck you by the way.”

“What?” He exclaimed quietly.

I smacked his arm hard. “You could have given me a fucking heart attack. I thought someone broke in.”

He winced, grabbing his arm. “Why would you give me the spare key if you didn’t want me coming over whenever I wanted?”

“I gave it to you in case of emergency, not to come over to eat MY food.” I replied, grabbing cereal out of my cabinet and placing it in front of Colby.

He shrugged, grabbing it and getting a bowl. “Somehow your food always tastes better.”

“Probably because you don’t pay for it.” I mumbled, opening the fridge.

“Maybe…” He poured the cereal into his bowl, heading towards my dining room table.

“Besides, you can’t just show up whenever without giving me a heads up. What if I was walking around naked?” I took the milk from the fridge, only to have him take it from my hand.

He put his lips close against my ear, his other hand resting on my waist. “I pray for that everyday…”

He pulled away, slightly chuckling and walking back to the table. I rolled my eyes, holding back the shiver that ran through my body.

It’s way too early for this…

“Whatever. I’m gonna go take a shower.” I stated.

“Can I join?” Colby smirked, turning to me.

I smirked back. “In your dreams…”

He scoffed jokingly and turned back to his cereal. I walked to my bathroom, shutting the door quietly. I took a deep breath, trying to relax myself as I slowly slid my clothes off and started the water.

To describe mine and Colby’s relationship is… strange to say the least. How we met is less complicated though. I moved out to Los Angeles from the small, unknown town of Dorney, Arizona back in 2014. I started a youtube account shortly after, slowly gaining some popularity. Then one day, two boys moved in next door to me.

And the rest is (somewhat) history.

The boys and I have been friends for years. They are two of the only people I trust. Two of the only people that know everything about me. And I them.

But mine and Colby’s relationship has always been a bit different.

For one thing, we always flirt with each other. Which has caused a lot of ~drama~ in both our fandoms. Most fans believe we are secretly dating, but that’s not the case.

As much as I wish it was.

I’ve always had feelings for Colby. The moment I met him, I knew I was gonna love him forever. He just has that hold on me. But I could never tell him. I’ve ruined too many friendships with guys because I grew to have feelings for them, but they never did for me. I’ve kept my feelings to myself the whole time. Sam’s the only person that knows I like Colby. He kind of figured it out on his own.

He has told me before that Colby has feelings for me, but I don’t believe him. Colby is mostly straight-forward with girls, and he has never said a thing to me about his feelings. I think our relationship is best left as a friendship and nothing else.

I would hate to lose him. Or Sam. That’s my worst nightmare.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped my hair in a towel and dried my body off. I wrapped the towel around me and looked at myself in the slightly, fogged-up mirror. The towel fell to just underneath my butt.

Maybe I should show Colby what he’s missing.

I opened the door to my bathroom, smirking. Colby was on his phone, reading a message from someone. He looked deep in thought.

“Whatcha reading?” I asked, slowly walking up to him.

“Sam and I are setting up the next place we want to go explore and we got this message from a fan about a haunted bed-and-breakfast.” He replied, still staring at his phone.

I stood there for a moment, glaring at the back of his head.

He’s never gonna look at me, is he?

“That sounds cool. Is it just the two of you going or are the roommates heading with you guys?” I questioned, walking into my room and leaving the door open.

“Well, we wanted to bring Jake and Corey but both of them are busy this week,” He explained. “Sam was thinking if you’re not too busy, do you want to go?”

I shrugged, pulling my clothes on for the day. “Wait, where is it at?”

“Up in Washington. According to the fan that sent us the information, the bed-and-breakfast is known as one of the creepiest places in all of Washington. It was on an episode of Ghost Hunters so you know it’s somewhat legit.” He informed, his voice coming from right outside my room.

“You can come in you know.” I insisted, turning to see him standing at my door with his back to it.

His shoulders dropped as he turned around, “I thought I would be nice and not barge in while you’re getting dressed.”

“You being nice? To me? Are you starting another prank war?” I smirked, crossing my arms.

“I’m always nice to you. I just show it by eating your food.” He responded, laying down on my bed.

“And making fun of the boys I date.” I teased, sitting down next to him.

He groaned. “Hey, your last boyfriend was a dick. What was his name? Ray, Rob, R-“

“His name was Ryan, thank you very much.” I retorted.

“Anyway, are you down to go to Washington with us?”

“I don’t know…”

“Please.” He rested his head and hand against my thigh, looking up at me. He jutted out his bottom lip.

He shouldn’t be allowed to be this cute.

I smiled jokingly. “Only because I hate seeing you beg.”

He sat up quickly, beaming. “It’ll be fun. We’re gonna change things up this time and actually stay at the bed-and-breakfast for a couple days, instead of just overnight.”

“When do we leave?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” He deadpanned.

I laughed. “Did you buy my ticket knowing I was gonna come with you?”

He paused. “Yes.”

“What if I said no?” I questioned, crossing my arms.

“I guess I would have had to kidnap you.” He shrugged and smiled.

I chuckled back. “I’m gonna ask for the key to my apartment back now.”

|| CHAPTER 2 >>

#colby brock #Sam and Colby #sam golbach #colby brock x oc #colby brock story #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fluff #colby brock fic #twisted

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bisexualstevierogers · 6 years ago

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This Kiss Is Something I Can’t Resist (Cisco Ramon X Reader)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Cisco Ramon X Reader Word Count: 2,649 Author's Note: I found this prompt from @love-me-a-good-prompt and I HAD to write something for it: Imagine Person A and Person B are both single and decide to spend Valentine’s Day together and do all of the silly cliche Valentine’s Day things together as friends BUT somewhere between the flowers, the heart-shaped candy, the fancy dinner, and the romantic movies, they end up catching feelings for each other. I hope you guys like this!! Happy Valentine's Day 💖 Feedback warms my heart and helps me publish stories faster <3

Cisco had been a sad, mopey mess ever since he and Cynthia had broken up. You couldn't blame him, breaking up with someone you cared about sucked, but Cisco had spiralled as Valentine's Day approached.

Every time someone brought up their Valentine's plans, Cisco frowned and huffed and turned to his computer instead of the conversation.

By the time Valentine's Day rolled around, you were sick of it. You stomped over to Cisco's desk and placed the flowers and heart shaped box of chocolates in front of him.

Cisco eyed them suspiciously. “What's this?”

“This is me asking you to be my Valentine.”

Cisco's eyes widened. “Look, __y/n__, you know I think you're amazing, but after Cynthia I don't think I'm ready to date anyone again y-”

“Platonically, Cis.” You interrupted him to clarify. “I know you were looking forward to Valentine's Day with Cynthia so I thought we could go get some dinner and watch a movie or something.”

Cisco smiled widely. “That sounds perfect.” He looked you up and down before frowning. “Wait, why are you so dressed up?”

You laughed, smoothing out your sparkly pink dress. “I may or may not have made reservations for us at that fancy new Italian restaurant downtown.”

“No way!” Cisco exclaimed excitedly. “How'd you get us a reservation on Valentine's Day?”

“I had Felicity pull a few strings. Now come on,” You urged, extending your hand out for him to take. “We need to stop by your apartment so you can change.”

Cisco glanced down at his Star Wars t-shirt. “Good call.” Cisco balanced your gifts in his arms before taking your hand. “Oh, and thanks for the flowers and the chocolate.”

You beamed at him. “Of course. Happy Valentine's Day!”

“Happy Valentine's Day.” Cisco responded, wondering why his palms felt clammy all of a sudden. He prayed you wouldn't notice.

-----

You finished touching up your lip gloss just as Cisco reentered the car.

You turned to look at him and couldn't help letting out a whistle. “You look very handsome.”

Cisco's hair was pulled into a half updo with the half that was left down falling in soft waves. He had changed into a red button up with white hearts all over it, a black blazer, and black slacks.

You were amused to see that Cisco's cheeks dusted pink at your words. You smiled at him before starting the car and driving to the restaurant.

It was packed.

Parking was a nightmare, and once you actually managed to get inside the restaurant, you had to hold tightly to Cisco's hand for fear of getting separated in the crowd of people.

“Two for __l/n__-Ramon.” You said politely, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat at the way your names sounded together. This was a platonic date, not a romantic one. You couldn't let yourself forget that.

“Right this way.” The hostess said with a smile, leading you and Cisco to a cute table in the corner.

Cisco pulled your chair out for you, which was unexpected and made you blush. “Thank you.” You murmured, smiling at him as he sat across from you.

“Someone will be back to take your order shortly.” She assured as she placed a menu in front of each of you.

“Thank you.” You and Cisco said simultaneously.

You flipped through your menu to try to figure out what you wanted, but you were struggling to pick between several dishes.

“It's hard when everything sounds good, right?” Cisco asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Yes!” You agreed with a chuckle. “How'd you know?”

“I'm having the same problem.” Cisco nibbled on his lip. “How about you pick whatever two things you want the most and we can share?”

You blinked at him. “Are you sure?”

Cisco grinned. “Yeah. Like I said, everything looks good.”

“Okay, I was thinking of getting either the four cheese ravioli or the spaghetti.”

Cisco snapped his menu shut. “Perfect.”

A waitress came to your table a few minutes later, and Cisco ordered the spaghetti before looking at the waitress curiously.

“Do you have sparkling cider?”

“Yes, we do.”

“We'll take a bottle of that too, please.”

The waitress took your order before taking your menus and leaving you and Cisco alone in comfortable silence.

“Good idea about the cider.” You complimented as Cisco poured you both a glass.

“if you weren't driving, I would've ordered us some wine, but I would feel bad drinking by myself. Cider is a good compromise.”

You chuckled and clinked your glass against his. “I don't like wine much anyway.”

Cisco raised an eyebrow at you as you took a delicate sip of your cider. “You don't?”

“I don't like alcohol much. Always seems to give me a headache so I tend to avoid it.”

“I didn't know that.”

“You never asked.” You said teasingly. “What about you?”

Cisco shrugged. “Sometimes it's fun to go have a drink with Cait or Ralph, but yeah, I'm not a huge fan either.”

The waitress came back with your food before you could respond. She deposited a steaming plate of spaghetti in front of Cisco and a steaming plate of ravioli in front of you.

“This smells so good.”

“Agreed.”

You stabbed a ravioli with your fork and blew on it to cool it down before taking a dainty bite.

“How is it?” Cisco asked, twirling some spaghetti around his fork.

“A little too hot to tell. Good, I think.” You continued to blow on it until it had cooled down enough for you to take a bigger bite.

Cisco's food must've cooled down at the same time, as you and Cisco let out soft, simultaneous groans.

“That good?” Cisco asked with a chuckle.

You nodded enthusiastically and impaled another ravioli on your fork before offering it to Cisco.

You squirmed in your seat as Cisco groaned again, hoping your cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

“That is delicious.” Cisco agreed and offered you a bite of his spaghetti.

You purposely didn't meet Cisco's eyes as you wrapped your lips around his fork.

“I think that's the best spaghetti I've ever had.” You admitted, taking another sip of your cider.

You and Cisco ate in comfortable silence until it was time for dessert.

You scooted closer to Cisco so you could look at the dessert menu together.

“Do we dare?” You asked and raised an eyebrow at him.

“__y/n__, it's Valentine's Day. Of COURSE we dare.”

You chuckled at his words. “Alright, you let me pick dinner so you pick dessert.”

“The chocolate lava cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.” He answered immediately, waving the waitress over so he could place the order.

You both stared in awe when the gooey, warm, chocolatey cake was placed in front of you. Cisco carefully scooped a spoonful of cake and ice cream onto his spoon, and you were pleasantly surprised when he offered the first bite to you.

“I didn't know you were such a gentleman, Cis.” You teased before accepting the spoon and letting out a soft moan.

You missed the way Cisco bit his lip at the sound.

“This is heavenly.” You admitted and gathered some more on the spoon before feeding it to Cisco. You swallowed roughly as Cisco tried to lick the remaining chocolate off of his lips.

“You missed a spot, here, let me.” You murmured without thinking, swiping your thumb across his bottom lip before licking the chocolate off your finger.

Cisco's eyes widened at your actions, but you didn't even seem to realize what you had done.

“Uh, thanks.” Cisco managed to get out after a moment. “You were right, this is heavenly.”

You and Cisco took turns finishing the dessert before the waitress came by with your bill.

Cisco moved to take out his wallet, but you were faster, handing your card to the waitress with a triumphant smile.

“__y/n__…” Cisco said with a frown, and you just chuckled.

“This was my idea. I wasn't going to let you pay when I invited you.”

“I'm paying for the movie then.” Cisco insisted.

“I already bought our tickets.” You said as you sheepishly pulled two tickets out of your purse. “But you can buy the popcorn!”

“I'll buy the popcorn, the sodas, and as much candy as you want.” Cisco grumbled as you stuck your wallet and the tickets back in your purse.

Although the restaurant wasn't as busy as it had been earlier, your hand still found Cisco's as you made your way outside to your car. You were quickly beginning to realize that holding Cisco's hand felt comfortable, natural.

That worried you. This was supposed to be a platonic date to help a friend get over his ex, and yet, here you were, eager to hold Cisco's hand in an unplatonic way.

-----

The drive to the movie theater was short, and as you stepped out of the car, Cisco's hand quickly found yours again, even though the movie theater wasn't nearly as crowded as the restaurant had been.

It doesn't mean anything. You tried to convince yourself in order to avoid getting your hopes up.

Cisco smiled at you as you made your way inside the theater, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

You had always found Cisco attractive, but you had never been romantically interested in him before. The whole point of taking him out was so that neither of you had to be alone on Valentine's Day even though you were both single. You had just wanted to spend some time with your friend, eat some good food, and watch a sweet movie.

You were starting to regret your decision.

You didn't want to have a crush on Cisco; it would ruin your dynamic, and Cisco himself had told you he wasn't ready to date anyone yet after what happened with Cynthia.

Cisco gently waved a hand in front of your face as he called your name. “__y/n__?”

You blinked out of your thoughts and back into the present. “What? I'm sorry. I'm just thinking about some stuff.”

Cisco chuckled. “What do you want?”

“A cherry slurpee and some licorice would be nice.”

“A girl after my own heart.” Cisco said approvingly before ordering a large popcorn, two slurpees, two packages of licorice, a box of M&M’s, and a package of Sour Patch Kids.

“You know it's a two hour movie, right?” You asked, your arms laden with snacks as you made your way to the theater.

“I like to have options, __y/n__.” Cisco said indignantly and stuck his tongue out at you, making you smile.

“Fair enough.” You conceded as you plopped down in the seat beside him. You gently placed the mountain of candy on the divider between your seats before settling in to watch the movie.

Cisco insisted on holding the popcorn for you, and your fingers kept brushing against his as you reached for popcorn at the same time.

You scooted closer to him under the guise of reaching the popcorn easier, and you were surprised when Cisco's right arm lightly wrapped around your shoulder.

You turned to look at him curiously, but Cisco was looking decidedly at the screen, not at you. You smiled to yourself and relaxed under the warm weight of his arm.

You didn't notice as Cisco's lips curled up into a matching smile.

Sitting so close to Cisco had been fine at the beginning of the movie, but now you could smell his cologne, and it was driving you crazy. Even worse was that as the movie approached its end, there were a few steamy scenes between the two leads.

You could feel your cheeks flush as the female lead kissed the male lead, then the male lead began tugging her shirt off.

You let out a small gasp as Cisco pulled you closer so he could whisper in your ear. “They don't even have any chemistry. I liked her with the best friend character better.”

“Yeah, me too.” You agreed, trying desperately to calm your racing heart and buzzing nerves.

Cisco turned to look at you fully, trying to figure out why you were suddenly sitting so still.

“Are you okay?” Cisco murmured, his breath tickling your ear before you turned to face him. Cisco curiously took in your wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips that you had clearly been biting.

“Oh.” Cisco said softly, reaching a hand out to cup your cheek and blinking in surprise as you leaned into the touch happily.

“Cisco,” You breathed out, eyes darting down from his eyes to his lips then back again.

Cisco thought about it for a second before he leaned in and kissed you softly, slowly, not wanting to scare you off.

You felt so stupid for trying to deny it as his lips touched yours. When you felt the first press of his lips against yours, you knew you were lost. You liked Cisco. He liked you. And it might make things complicated in the future, but for now all that mattered was that Cisco's lips were warm, and they felt perfect against yours.

You kissed him back eagerly, bringing your hands up to his neck as you deepened the kiss before remembering that you were in public and reluctantly pulling away from him.

You smiled happily at Cisco and curled contentedly into his side for the rest of the movie.

As you and Cisco made your way out of the theater with Cisco's various packages of (completely unopened) candy in your arms, you couldn't help but stop every few feet to lean up and kiss him again.

Cisco chuckled as you stopped to kiss him for the fourth time. He kissed you back sweetly before stepping out of your reach.

“We'll never make it to the car if you keep doing that.” Cisco singsonged from several feet in front of you.

You pouted. “I don't care. It's Valentine's Day and I just want to kiss you.”

Cisco melted at your words, and within seconds, he was in front of you again. “You're gonna be the death of me.”

You smiled triumphantly as he pulled you into another kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist while yours played with his hair.

You heard a loud cough and something falling to the ground with a dull thud, breaking apart to see what was going on.

Barry, Iris, Caitlin, and Ralph were staring at you and Cisco in surprise. Ralph had dropped his popcorn in shock, Barry and Iris shared a knowing look that was only mildly surprised, and Caitlin held out her hand to Iris.

“I told you there was no way it was going to stay a platonic date. Pay up.” Caitlin said cheerfully, and Iris grumbled as she grabbed some bills from her purse and handed them to Caitlin.

You raised an eyebrow at her. “How did you know? I didn't even know.”

“Neither did I.” Cisco chimed in.

“I don't know.” Caitlin said, shrugging. “I just had a feeling.”

“We're happy for you guys.” Barry chimed in sweetly, making you and Cisco smile.

Caitlin and Iris agreed, but Ralph was too busy frowning at the ground as he picked up his popcorn to pay attention.

“Enjoy your movie.” You said, blowing a goodbye kiss to the others before you and Cisco exited the movie theater.

Once you and Cisco were in the warmth of your car, you turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “There's still a few hours left of Valentine's Day, do you wanna come back to my place? I've got some more rom coms on DVD, and we have plenty of candy to stay awake.”

Cisco smiled and leaned across the center console to kiss you again. “That sounds like the perfect end to a perfect Valentine's Day.”

End. <3

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another-sonic-blog · 5 years ago

Text

The Book Of Life X ShadAmy

The Book of Life X ShadAmy: He definitely didn't want to be the third wheel. Especially he didn't want to be the third wheel for his best friend. Who was currently dating his ex-girlfriend? Shadow just didn't want to be there but Sonic promised him that if went, he was going to buy him coffee beans from Columbia for an entire year. And so, he agreed. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't in bad terms with Amy. Actually, he thought that they had ended things pretty well. . . . "I want to break up with you." Shadow had finally the courage to say those words. They had been living together for a few months but Shadow knew, she felt lonelier than ever. "Ok" . . . What else was he supposed to say? It was a plain and simple 'OK' nothing more, nothing less. He knew that it was going to happen anyway. She was too good for him. And he didn't deserve her. And so now they are just friends. Friends who are going to watch a movie together. 'The Book of Death' or something like that Sonic had told him. The title intrigued him as it is, and hopefully if everything went alright; Sonic would come out with a new girlfriend. His ex-girlfriend. Shadow arrived at the movie theater. He felt a bit uncomfortable, so many kids, parents, friends, couples...just too many people around. Shadow felt his heartbeat rise faster as his anxiety began to kick in. 'No...Not now' "Shadow?" He turned around to find Amy. His heartbeat regulated slowly, as he tried not to look at her in the eyes. She wasn't wearing her regular red dress. She wore a light white blouse that showed her collarbones. Hand made engraving around it. A long red skirt that accommodated her figure perfectly. Tight in the hips and lose on the feet. "You look...very...um..." "Cultured? Enriched? Traditionally beautiful?" "I was going to say Mexican, but yes," Shadow said a teasing a bit. "If you had ever cared to ask you would have known that I am half Mexican, Shadow," Amy said obviously. Actually, to Shadow that made sense. Amy would sometimes sing Spanish songs while she cleaned the house. Shadow thought that she was just bilingual and never it too much thought about it. "The movie is going to start soon, do you know where's Sonic?" Amy changed the topic as soon as she realized that she had let her feelings get her. "Let me text him." Shadow pulled out his phone and realized Sonic had sent him a text message. He opened it and it read: "Hey, Shadow I won't be able to make it today. Something came up. Can you tell Amy to please forgive me? I'll make it up to her. I'll get you your coffee beans so please do have a good time with her. Thanks, pal" Shadow finished reading the text and turned off his phone. He looked up to Amy. She was smiling as she pulled up the three tickets for the movie out of her bag. "Sorry Amy, Sonic won't be able to make it. Um, there was a city who needed his help with evacuating...you know how there's been a lot of hurricanes lately." Shadow said. "Oh, I see...won't you go to help him?" "He said he has it under control." "Oh, alright then." Shadow didn't want to see Amy's disappointed face. So he turns to see the movie poster next to him. 'The Book of Life' didn't seem to get Shadow's interest at all. He really didn't want to see the movie but... "Hey...", Shadow tried to get Amy's attention. He didn't want to see ht movie, but he did want to see Amy happy. "We can still watch that movie if you want." And then, Shadow was being dragged by Amy to the theater room. Oh well, the smile on her face was everything Shadow needed. . . . How did it turn this way? At first, everything was going smoothly, the movie was great actually. However, something made Shadow extremely angry during the movie and for the entire of the film he had a frowning face. The movie ended, Amy and Shadow were walking down the street heading to Amy's house. Shadow sulk on his jacket as Amy followed from behind. It was already getting dark and Amy still couldn't figure out what was wrong with Shadow. He hasn't said a word since they enter the movie theater and Amy was not having it. "So, Shadow...", Amy hoped to get next to the black hedgehog. Amy recognizes that look on Shadow's face before. She knew it was better off to leave alone but as much as Amy didn't want to...she still cared for him. "Did you like the movie?" "No." "What? Why? The story was good, the characters had development and the animation was unique, I don't get why-" "The story was centered about 'The Day of the Death' and that's stupid", Shadow said simply. "Uh? The Day of the Death is...stupid?" This time Amy's voice changed to a higher pitch. "Yes." "Day of The Death is an important day for me and many people! It's the only day we can feel connected to those who we love and have passed...and you say is stupid?" "Yes", This time Shadow turned to give Amy a nasty look, never in her life had Amy felt so...disgusted. "What's your problem?!" "The Day of the Death is stupid because it's not real! Do you really think your parents and grandparents come to visit you for only one day? That they eat the food you cook them and spend time with you? What a joke." Shadow began to walk away as he sighed. Yes, he was angry and he shouldn't have taken that out on Amy. he turns around to face her and as soon as he saw her face he knew he had messed up completely. "Amy...I-" "Yes, it may not be true...But I like to believe it is!" Amy ran away, with tears in her eyes. Once again, Shadow had hurt the person he cared for the most. Right now there was nothing he could do but to let her feeling cool off as well as his. He sat on the concrete as the night had already fallen upon him. He needed to make it up to Amy and fast. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let this go. But once again this just comes to show...that he would just end up hurting her. Just one last time, he will make it up to her. and leave her. But just what could he do? Then, a white van pulled up. The words 'MARIACHI' were big and clear on the van. Musicians came out of the van dress with traditional Mariachi suits and their instruments. Shadow just couldn't believe what he was about to do... . . . Amy was in her room. Still sad and angry that Shadow had told of those things to her. She was trying too hard. She hated Shadow, she didn't want to see him ever again. But she just couldn't. And she hated that. She hated not being able to forget him. She hated him for breaking up with her and breaking her heart. But she hated herself the most. Because everything she said was 'ok'. She was never worth it of him. I love you too much To live without you loving me back I love you too much heaven's my witness and this is a fact

Amy must be going crazy because she clearly heard someone singing from outside her house. With a particular voice, she knew very well. I know I belong When I sing this song There's love above love and it's ours 'Cause I love you too much

Amy waited a bit more to confirm her theory. She heard the soft guitar, and Shadow's voice. Chaos, he really couldn't sing. I live for your touch I whisper your name night after night I love you too much There's only one feeling and I know its right Even now, Shadow couldn't believe he got the Mariachis to help him with this little plan of his. He even was wearing a Mariachi suit, all black and he had to admit, a bit tight around the buttocks. I know I belong When I sing this song There's love above love and it's ours 'Cause I love you too much

Shadow's heart began to race as he saw Amy approaching her window. His voice cracking every time he tried to hit a note. Right now, he didn't care. The only thing that matter was that he had Amy's attention. He was going to let her know how he feels before he says goodbye. Heaven knows your name and I've been praying to have you come here by my side Without you a part of me is missing Just to make you my whole life will fly

Amy had to admit, she never thought Shadow would do this. She was sure that Shadow must feel humiliated, and he had to give him credit for that. Still, she wasn't going to forgive him that easily. I know I belong when I sing this song There's love above love and it's ours 'Cause I love you too much

Shadow had to put his pride aside for her, and hell he would do it again and again if that meant she would forgive him. He had been so stupid, all of this time. For letting her go, for hurting her, for giving up on her so easily. For wasting her time. I love... you too much I love you too much Heaven's my witness and this is a fact Your live in my soul Your heart is my gold There's love above love but it's mine 'cause I love you

The Mariachis had made their way with portable stairs. They had placed them in front of Amy's window and Shadow approached steadily. He stopped playing the guitar to climb the stairs but he never stopped singing. Making the thing more awkward as there was no music to back up his vocals. His voice cracking as he took step by step. Amy waiting on top. There's love above love and it's yours cause I love you

As Shadow got to the top, he was finally able to see Amy's expression. The moonlight landed on her face and it made her look all more beautiful and Shadow wonder how even he eve let her go. His voice cracked again as he got nervous. Amy approached him, placing her face very close to him. Was this really going to happen? Was Amy going to...kiss him? There's love above love and it's ours if you Love me as much?

Shadow finished the song as he slowly closed his eyes waiting for Amy to do the rest. "Did you think it was going to be that easy?" Amy said as he placed his finger over Shadow's lips. He sighed, he should have known better. "I am sorry Amy...I didn't mean to say all of those things...is just...it just makes me think." Shadow said as he looked away. "Think?" Amy asked him. "All of this time...I have tried to forget about Maria...and if The Day of The Death is true...then that just means I have sent her soul to the Land of the Forgotten...and just the thought of her soul being trapped there forever because of me...I can't live with that." It was one of the few times Amy saw Shadow open up about his feelings. She had to admit that if she was in Shadow's position, she may have reacted the same way. "You disrespected my traditions and beliefs..." Amy said with an angry face. "...but you really made it for it." Shadow looked up to Amy this time, and she held his hands delicately. "Shadow, you never forgot Maria. You think of her when you see the flowers, when you read books, when you see the rain...I am sure she has a nice place in the Land of the Remembered... and if not..." Amy smiled one more time and Shadow's heartbeat raced faster. "You can make an ofrenda with me this year." Shadow eyes gleamed and for a moment... He didn't want to let go. He wanted to stay with Amy, take her back. "Amy..I...I lo-" But the words never came out of Shadow's mouth as he found himself falling off her window. He landed on her bushes, soil and leaves all over him. Great now he had to pay for the expensive suit. He looks up to Amy who still had a smile on her face.Well, this was worth it. May he didn't have to say goodbye for now. Maybe, this was the way it was meant to be. He was sure he was going to come back, after all, he now had to make an ofrenda to Maria. and get Amy's heart back. . . . . . A/n: Honestly, this is probably the shortest ShadAmy ff I've written and probably the worst as well. I have writer's block and nothing that I write seems to like me. I may experiment with some SonAmy, or something different. Anyways, I hope you like this! This is if for this month's ShadAmy challenge! Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QdctyhdJ1YA

#shadow and amy #shadowxamy #Shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #Amy Rose #Amy the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfic #sonic fanfiction #the book of life

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ehc-on-ao3 · 6 years ago

Text

Silent Bay, a Life Is Strange horror AU

(My brain just wouldn’t leave video game horror AUs alone, apparently. So here's something partially inspired by Silent Hill and Fatal Frame.)

WARNING: long post because I hate the Read More thing.

Max Caulfield. Average student. Talented as fuck photographer. Returns to Arcadia Bay to find her best friend, Chloe, who she was forced to abandon when her family moved to Seattle. Sounds simple, right? Except, her parents are dead-set against it. Like, insanely so. Way more than parents being protective, at least, that's what Max thinks. Still, Max is resourceful. So, one morning, instead of her school supplies, Max stuffs her messenger bag full of supplies, camera included, and after getting dropped off at her high school, sneaks away, uses cash to buy a bus ticket, and makes her way South. According to her phone, the trip should take around 5 or so hours, more than long enough get to Arcadia Bay without her parents suspecting anything.

Strangeness #1: the bus doesn't actually go to Arcadia Bay. She has to get off at the closest stop to the town, then walk. She gets plenty of strange looks from others when she asks for directions to Arcadia Bay, enough to make her feel weirded out, but after a quick meal, she starts on her way. She's way too close to Chloe to turn back now.

Outside the diner, a kind man offers her a ride. His name is Samuel and he works as a janitor at Blackwell Academy, Arcadia Bay's private school. Lovely campus with lots of friendly animals, like squirrels, birds, and deer. When Max asks about the students and teachers, Samuel's answer is odd: animals have only one face and it always looks towards the light. People would do well to learn that lesson.

Samuel takes Max to Blackwell Academy and they part ways. Max is fine with her destination: since she doesn't remember much about Arcadia Bay, she decides to ask around here for clues to Chloe's whereabouts and address. Maybe she was a student here? Strangeness #2: no students are in the main building. No faculty or staff, either. All the faculty doors are locked, though the classrooms are all open. Is school out already? But even if it was, why is it so empty?

Max notices a ton of Missing Person flyers around, all for one girl: Rachel Amber. Many are defaced, which saddens Max. Uncertain why, she snaps a photo of one of the flyers and puts it away, then walks outside.

Nightfall rolls around much quicker than she anticipated. As empty as the campus feels, it's downright scary now. Not to mention the fog that starts to roll in. Damn, what's with this weather? Thank dog she has her hoodie on. Max sees a nearby building that has some lights on and figures she'll investigate there, too, before trying to find a hotel but something stops her. Movement. In the thick fog. Between her and the building. Instinct has her turning away, maybe to hide in the campus building, but there's more movement coming from that building, too. She hurries to the parking lot, hoping beyond hope to find Samuel there.

Strangeness #3: Max finds Samuel's car but it's in bad shape. Flat tire, dirt covering the windows, like it hasn't been driven in months. Which is impossible since she was just in it an hour ago. But no time to think about that now. Something is approaching her. Max stumbles backwards as a misshapen figure shambles towards her. Max is freaking out when out of the blue, a beat up pickup truck barrels into the lot and brakes near Max. The driver hurries Max inside and together, they peel away.

The driver is, of course, Chloe, who is both elated and pissed that Max is here. Why the fuck did she come back to this shit hole when she actually managed to escape? Max reveals her memories are Swiss cheese (phone numbers, addresses, most everything is fragmented at best) but she never forgot Chloe. As soon as she recalled the name of her former home town, she had to come back. For her.

What happens next? I have some ideas:

Chloe reveals that she's been searching all around this fucking town for Rachel, her girlfriend. They swore to one another that they'd finally escape together but she disappeared 6 months ago. Everyone else may have given up on her but Chloe knows, just knows, that Rachel's still around somewhere.

Max withdraws her photo of Rachel's missing person poster and, to her horror, realizes the photo is different. Rachel's face is crying, desperate, and all the text has been replaced by nonsensical phrases, though one thing does stand out: RACHEL IN THE DARK ROOM. She and Chloe are freaked but this is also a possible clue. Chloe begs for Max's help, who agrees.

The next morning, Chloe takes Max to Two Whales for breakfast. They eat, talk a bit more. Max reveals that her parents fought tooth and nail to keep her from coming back, though they never explained their reasons. Max suddenly realizes that she hasn't received a call or a text from them and checks her phone. Strangeness #4: there's nothing from her parents. At all. But three messages from an unknown number. Except they're all blank. Max, remembering what happened with the poster, snaps a photo of the messages. Once it's developed, both Chloe and Max are shocked by what it reveals.

Chloe takes Max to the junkyard, hoping that Max's magic camera will reveal more clues about Rachel's whereabouts. Unfortunately, an unnatural fog rolls in, plunging Chloe and Rachel's old hideout into twilight. A weird creature attacks but before they're killed, Max accidentally presses the shutter button on her camera, snapping a photo of the creature, which vanishes. The fog rapidly dissipates.

The two notice that every time they look at the photo of the creature, it shifts position. They theorize that it's trapped in the confines of the photo and is trying to find a way out. Chloe breaks out a cigarette lighter and burns the photo to ash, destroying the creature. Both feel something in the environment itself shift.

At Max's suggestion, the two head to Blackwell. Max hopes to snap some photos and possibly get clues here. They make their way to the dorms (the building that had lights on the previous evening) and bump into Kate, who seems to know more about what going on in Arcadia Bay. The three talk and share info. Max and Chloe ask her to join them in their search and for her own protection but she declines. She has to stay: her faith is the only reason the dorm is safe and she must pray nightly to keep the creatures at bay. The other students rely on her for their continued survival. When Max asks how long she's been doing this, Kate reveals she doesn't remember.

Night falls and it's too late to head back to Chloe's house, so they have to stay in the dorms with Kate and the others. Strangeness #5: the scattered students [insert your faves here] all remember going to class like everything is normal, but once the final bell rings at 4:00 PM, they suddenly recall where they are. None of them remember how long they've been in Arcadia Bay or Blackwell but do know that there used to be quite a few more students than there is now, presumably taken/eaten by those creatures.

Everyone has tried to leave at some point but because they're stuck in that weird time looped amnesia, they never remember to try sooner than 4:00 PM and can't make it out of the town's borders before night falls. Kate is partially immune to this effect but instead of trying to escape, opts to keep the dorms stocked on supplies as best she can throughout the day, knowing that no one can do so in the evening without getting attacked. Thankfully, since that weird loop also includes lunch in the cafeteria, no one is in danger of starving.

Max snaps a photo of the whole group of students/survivors. The resulting photo is...

When Max reveals she's originally from Arcadia Bay but moved to Seattle, it shocks the fuck out of everyone. She escaped? HOW?! She doesn't know. She doesn't remember. But when she says she's come back for Chloe, everyone laments, with a couple of people raging. Max is stuck now. She has a reason to stay in Arcadia Bay, so now she's stuck. Chloe has a reason so stay, Rachel, so she's stuck. Same with Kate. Same with [insert people here] for their individual reasons. And whatever is keeping them from accomplishing their goals is preventing them from escaping. A couple of them are about to get violent before Kate shouts for their attention. She needs silence for her prayers; otherwise, they're all dead. Everyone goes quiet and, as Kate prays, most of them try to get some sleep.

(If this were a horror movie, monsters would break in right about now and kill many of them, with the survivors blaming Max, then probably try to capture her to sacrifice to the town for their own survival. However, this isn't a horror movie, so we'll kindly skip that part.)

Perhaps there's a moment here where one of them approaches Max while everyone else is sleeping and asks her to get a message to her family when she manages to escape again. She's convinced she's not going to make it. But Max, she's done so once. She'll do it again.

The next morning, Max and Chloe awake to find it's just them and Kate. Everyone else is already in class. No, it doesn't make sense because it's too early for classes, and Saturday, but Arcadia Bay's doesn't follow logic. She cautions the two not to enter the main campus during “school hours” as they'll likely get shuffled into class by well-meaning teachers to not be tardy, and find themselves actual students, trapped in Blackwell's vicious cycle. Chloe jokes that’s a fate worse than death.

Max reveals her photo of Rachel to Kate, and also explains how she destroyed one of the creatures earlier. There is a way to fight back, after all. Kate is elated as this will give the others hope and promises to look for another instant film camera as they already know phone cameras don't work. The two exchange phone #s to keep in contact.

Kate goes her own way while Max and Chloe continue their investigation. Max snaps a photo of Rachel's old room but it reveals nothing. She snaps another photo of the boys' dorm hall and notices something off about one of the doors. They go to investigate Room 111 and are attacked again by a creature within the room. They're able to banish it as well, though Chloe is hurt in the process.

The two search the room for physical clues and Max snaps a photo for metaphysical ones as well. They uncover a name, Prescott, the apparent previous occupant of the room. Max's photo isn't of the room at all but appears blank. It's only when they go outside into the sunlight that the photo changes, revealing the exterior of an old, dilapidated barn.

Chloe takes them back to her house, where she breaks out a first aid kit to treat her injuries. Max helps. They talk about everything they've found so far. Chloe takes something for the pain and passes out.

Max texts Kate and explains what happened and what they found. Kate replies that room 111 belonged to Nathan Prescott and should've been one of the student survivors but now doesn't recall seeing him around. She also recalls there was a huge party at the Prescott barn about 6 months ago. Max asks for the location. Kate promises to ask around and tell her ASAP.

Afterwards, Max checks her phone. Still nothing from her parents. But texting does work, right? She texts them instead but receives no response.

Max has a strange thought and texts the unknown number, asking for directions to the Prescott barn. She receives an empty message in response. Max tries to take a photo but is out of film. Thank God it isn't an emergency! She puts in a fresh pack of film and takes the photo, which turns out to be numbers 45.496698 and -123.894625, which doesn't mean anything to Max. She texts these numbers to Kate, explaining it might have something to do with the barn but doesn't know what they mean. Kate doesn't know, either, but she'll ask Warren or Brooke after class, as they might know.

Near 4:00, Chloe wakes up. She's upset that Max let her sleep so long but Max tells her she was hurt and needed the rest. Kate texts back: the numbers are coordinates. Max pulls up the numbers on a map app but it refuses to load. Chloe tries and gets something. Max quickly snaps a photo with her camera. A moment later, Chloe's phone sparks, smokes, and dies. Chloe and Max are shocked but Max's photo has the map. Chloe can get them there.

Chloe rushes to leave right away. Max tries to stop her, saying it's close to dark and really dangerous. Chloe is too close to finding Rachel, though, and is unable to wait. Max tells her she only has one camera and only so much film left. Chloe pauses, then bolts upstairs, returning a moment later with her father's old instant camera and a spare pack of film. They're as armed as they're going to be and Chloe isn't going to wait another day, so Max joins her in the truck and together, they race to the Prescott barn.

What happens next? I have no idea. Hadn't thought that far ahead. But, food for thought:

The people of Arcadia Bay are also stuck in a loop, the ones that are left, anyway. They go about the echoes of their former lives and, unless someone thinks about it really hard, no one notices. This is why Joyce and David never appear at Chloe's house. Joyce is always found at the diner, David always at Blackwell. Always.

Who or what was Samuel? A fragment of the town wanting to snare Max back in? A spirit trying to warn her of the dangers of the night? Both?

How did Max escape? Why don't her parents text her? Did she actually escape?

Why did Chloe show up exactly on time, when Max needed help the most?

Chloe said Rachel disappeared 6 months ago. There was a party at the barn 6 months ago. But time is weird in Arcadia Bay. Was it really 6 months? Was it much longer? Was it much shorter?

What do Max's other photos reveal?

Who or what is Kate? Just a selfless Christian who wants to do the right thing? A literal angel?

What do Chloe and Max find at the barn?

What is Rachel's role, if any, in the horror that is Arcadia Bay?

Once Rachel is rescued, can everyone escape?

What happens if Max snaps a photo of the campus building and burns that photo? What if she snaps a photo of the entire town from the lighthouse and burns that?

At the end, Max takes a celebratory photo of herself, Chloe, and Rachel. What does it reveal? Does she show it to the others or does she hide it?

I give permission to anyone out there to write this if you so desire. I doubt I’m getting to it this year.

#Life Is Strange #fanfic #writing prompt #mywork #Silent Bay #horror AU #Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #Rachel Amber #Kate Marsh #Samuel Taylor #Silent Hill #Fatal Frame

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arcticmaggie · 6 years ago

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Donut Shop (Pt. 2)

Y/N sees Harry and prays that he sees her as well.

Part 1

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Just like, a BUNCH of tension leading up to a cliffhanger?? Idk I’m cruel and won’t let Y/N get her fairy tale (not yet, at least)

A/N: Okay listen this was tough to write because there’s a lot of time lapses and idk how to write the transitions for em so like BARE WITH ME. Also I rlly don’t know how to calm down with the italics and the run on sentences but I feel like it adds to the tension and the ongoing stroke Y/N is having. THERE WILL BE ANOTHER ONE, POSSIBLY THE LAST PART BUT IDK DEPENDS ON IF I WANT THE ENDING TO BE AMBIGUOUS OR KEEP IT GOING INTO AN ACTUAL FULL FANFIC AHHH

She's shaking. Her hand is legitimately shaking.

It's been 10 hours since Y/N had almost died from shock of meeting Harry and squabbling with him and she is still having a bit of trouble trying to calm down. Of course, this is now because of a different reason.

She's going to see Harry live in concert in 2 hours! She's going to pretend like as if she hadn't just interacted with him for more than 10 seconds that same morning! She's not going to pull it off!

But really, she knows she can't actually say anything because A) how would she explain to Abby that the man up on stage before them had already touched her in ways that Abby would never have dreamed of being touched (sounds intense, but seriously, how often is it that the man of your dreams touches your shoulder?) and B) Harry had clearly been trying to steer away from gaining attention, so it would kinda be a dick move to go ahead and tell everyone about it.

But Y/N knows herself, so she knows it's going to take everything in her not to blabber about having Harry Styles pay for her ham and cheesy.

Maybe Abby won't react that bad? I mean, she's known Y/N since Midnight Memories came out and they gushed over their mutual love for One Direction online (and they met two years later). And Abby has already interacted with Harry on Twitter, with a reply and a follow. So maybe talking to him in real life won't be much of a scandal to her and she'll understand.

So yeah, Y/N decides with a deep breath and a swipe of her contour brush against her face that she'll tell her best friend about it as soon as she arrives at her house. Which would be in an hour and a half, so Y/N had plenty of time to hyperventilate until the time came.

She takes about an hour to finish her makeup after the mini pep talk, even though she was already halfway done. But that was because she spent half that time glaring at her hand to stop shaking. Really, you would think she'd be okay by now. She's a 20 year old girl with a job and her own apartment; this is supposed to mean she's really good at handling stressful situations.

But once she sprays her finishing spray on her face and combs her fingers through her hair, she begins to panic. Surely, she would be able to calm down once more in the 30 minutes she had left, but after 10 of them, she receives a text and she absolutely loses it.

Girlie I got out of work early so I’ll be there in 5 !!! ((:

Jesus Christ she's going to vomit.

She feels like she's about to tell her mom about the time she gave their next door neighbor head during their Easter barbecue in the bathroom.

But it's just Abby, it's just her best friend, and she hears a car pull up and shut off and she gasps for breath.

She doesn't feel her feet dragging her towards the front door, she doesn't feel her hand yank her door open as Abby walks up the path with a small jolt in her step with the sudden sound, and she definitely doesn't feel her mouth open as soon as she lays eyes on her.

“Harry Styles thinks I'm a proper knob.”

Abby immediately furrows her eyebrows together but a smile peeks out from her lips as she lazily pushes Y/N to the side so she can walk in and head straight towards the bedroom.

“How are you this delusional, 2 hours before the show? I would have thought you would start talking funny once we reached the building.” She sets her backpack down on the makeup vanity along with her bag of Jimmy Johns (she always gets hungry when she's doing her makeup for some reason) before turning back around to a silent Y/N who had wordlessly followed behind her.

Which is weird, Abby thinks, because Y/N really never learns how to shut up unless it's something very important holding her back. So she stares at her while Y/N stares back with a very anxious face and she realizes that whether it's true or not, Y/N meant what she said. And that worries Abby, so she huffs out a breath as she plops down on the vanity bench and pulls out her makeup while munching on a fry.

“Okay, you have the time I use doing my makeup and the car ride to the venue to tell me everything, so please think everything through before telling me.”

And Y/N takes it to heart. She recollects her words for a solid 15 minutes as she's spread out on her bed like an eagle and once she's finished she looks up. She sees Abby already done with her food and applying her highlighter, so she takes 5 more minutes to reorganize everything in her head again for a shortened version.

And so she begins. She spends about 10 minutes debriefing her horrible morning beforehand until Abby packs up her stuff and motions for her to follow her to the car to start their drive over to the Forum, where she spends the remaining half hour (which is more time than the actual minutes spent at the donut shop, ironically) gushing over Harry and his eyes and his lips and his hair and his cocky attitude and his touch and his money and everything that she couldn't process properly during that morning.

Abby stays quiet the entire time, only nodding along when Y/N pauses to see if she's understanding. And she even stays quiet as she parks the car in the designated parking lot and lets Y/N finish her rambling about the “absolutely dirty smirk he had on his face when he asked if it was a threat.”

So when Y/N finally stops and takes a well needed deep breath, she tries her hardest to piece together her conclusion of this situation.

“So, you're telling me, that there is a possibility that you will make eye contact with Harry tonight, and he will recognize you, and he will interact with you?”

And Y/N inhales so sharply because holy fuck, there actually is a chance of that. Their seats are so close to the B-stage and he'll walk up there and he will let his fans touch his hand and he will look at them and he might actually see her.

This thought brings the next hour into a blur.

She doesn’t remember standing in the merch line for 20 minutes for the yellow kiwi sweatshirt or walking through the metal detectors or scanning her ticket or buying a hotdog and eating it with extra mustard and relish or walking into the venue and sitting down in her seat with Abby right behind her. She doesn’t even pay attention to Kacey Musgraves and her set, which she didn’t do intentionally (she’s listened to entire repertoire specifically so she could jam out to her music before Harry comes out) but sitting here, 5 feet away from the B-stage has kept her out of touch from the entire world.

Doesn’t even hear the screams of everyone around her when Kacey leaves the stage and the lights turn back on for the 20 minute break in between sets.

It takes Abby giving her a really harsh nudge which Y/N cowers from and winces but she had it coming since she didn’t respond the first two times Abby tried to get her attention.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you’ve already met him yet you’re acting worse than me! I’ve never even come close to being in such proximity as him yet you’re the one ready to have a stroke!” Y/N pouts at the scolding but it brings her back into her own body. She knows Abby’s right, she’s already had more of relationship with Harry than most people in this building and she’s worrying about something that surely won’t happen. He’ll be caught up in his singing and talking to the rest of the crowd and he doesn’t even know she’ll be in that vicinity so it’s not like he’ll go out of his own way to look for her. He’s not going to notice her and it’s okay. She’s been fine with this mindset for years now, she can put up with it for many more.

And with this, she lets all her anxiety go. Even when the lights turn down and the Rubik’s cube pops up on screen and the monitor slides down to hide Harry’s entrance, she only screams with excitement and joy. Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and then see what we’ll find? is heard before the beginning of Only Angel and Y/N goes wild along with the entire venue as the monitor slides right back up and reveals him and he starts singing and it’s the best moment of her life and she completely forgets about everything before and focuses on now.

Well, until Harry wraps up on Meet Me in the Hallway and heads for the B-stage. All of a sudden, he’s climbing up the stairs with the rest of the band behind him and he uses the short seconds he has to accept the flowers fans are offering and thank them, making full eye contact with each and every one. It would be so easy for Y/N to shout his name, to shout out, “Harry it’s me! Ham and cheese girl!” It’d be so weird and he’s probably already forgotten about what happened and who she is because he’s a busy man and he has more important stuff to remember but she’d at least have a chance of catching his eye again.

But she sees his soft smile as he accepts the bouquet of roses the girl in front gives him and he turns around and sets it down, ushering in the rest of the gang as they all prepare to perform Sweet Creature. And he’s so beautiful, she can’t believe she’s able to be here and see him do what he loves doing and she feels the absolute joy he’s radiating. His eyebrows are furrowed as he tries to concentrate on this next song and he looks so determined to give a great show and she loves it, she loves him. So she shuts her mouth and she watches him with kind eyes as the rest of the fans around him quiet down as well.

And so he sings. First Sweet Creature, then If I Could Fly (Y/N begins to tear up), and then the lovely surprise of Girl Crush (that’s when she starts bawling). He’s always facing her direction throughout all three songs, and he looks up at some points into the crowd, surely only seeing a bunch of phones recording him. Abby was guilty of it as well but Y/N keeps hers in her pocket, relishing in the spotlight hitting only half of his and casting shadows on the other. His eyes always graze too quickly over where she’s seated and it irks her and makes her heart ache because yes she’s calmed down from her fantasy but he gets so close to setting eyes on her yet he doesn’t and it sucks.

She’s suddenly become so hurt by the idea of being unnoticed by him even after all these years of teaching herself not to be. She guesses that’s what happens when you get a small taste of something you can’t ever have.

Girl Crush ends, Harry finally leaves the B-stage to go back to the main stage and finish the rest of the show, and Y/N feels a tug on her heartstrings. She feels that her cheeks are wet and she begins to dab her tears away with the back of her hand, turning to Abby who was still recording Harry but with the turn of Y/N, she whips her phone around to record her instead. Y/N lets out a disgusting yet comical sniff through her nose and whimpers out, “I saw Harry’s sad excuse for a moustache with my own eyes and now I’m crying.”

Abby lets out a snort as she stops recording and turns back to Harry as he swings out his guitar and begins to play Anna, letting Y/N compose herself so she can continue jamming out. And of course, she does, for the next three songs, before he leaves the stage for a quick minute or two just to come back out and play the last three songs of the night (she can never understand why every artist has this in their setlist, and she laughs as Harry explains to the crowd that he doesn’t either).

From the Dining Table is beautiful and sad and The Chain is hardcore and exhilarating and then Harry plays Kiwi and Y/N is crying again because it’s the last song of the show and the last show of the tour and it’s heartbreaking.

And he has the audacity to play it again.

And the audacity to run down to B-stage once more.

He’s completely losing it and the crowd along with him but he’s so exhausted from the run and it’s so obvious that Y/N can’t help but laugh as he pants for breath. He turns towards her area as he brings the mic up to his mouth to continue the next few lines. He sees her.

He locks eyes with her and her amused eyes, raised eyebrows, and cackling laugh and he breaks into the biggest grin. He struggles to begin singing as he laughs along with her, joining in on his hilarious physical state and he adds in the line, “And I’m exhausted, I’m exhausted,” before finally turning away and running back to the mainstage.

Y/N had to take a huge swig of her water bottle and close her eyes for a good moment to make sure she didn’t legitimately pass out.

He finally noticed her. For a mere 4 seconds, he looked at her and he smiled at her and they laughed together. She was okay now. It wasn’t a conversation like she hoped it would be but he still acknowledged her presence and even though he didn’t explicitly say “I know you,” the way his face lit up when they made eye contact was enough for her to believe that he recognized her and she meant something to him.

He finishes off the song and fakes the crowd out as he eggs them on for another take and she hates herself. She hates that for a few minutes that morning she actually got angry with the way he teased her and decided that he was an asshole.

Sure, she can see him stick his tongue out and walk around with a shit eating grin as he hears the crowd go wild for a third rendition of Kiwi, but it doesn’t make him an asshole like she presumed. Just a cocky son of a bitch.

One who begins to sing Kiwi once again with the most tired posture a 24 year old man can have. Yet he continues to rock his body to the music and at one point drops down to his goddamn knees and rocks out on the floor. Yeah, Y/N concludes to herself, he’s hot and he’s fully aware of it.

The concert ends and Abby is crying (well, everyone in the arena is full of tears), both watching CHASM bow for the final time before exiting the stage. And with that, the lights turn back on and it’s time to leave.

Y/N’s ears are ringing and the loud chatter of the audience comes out muffled to her hearing, and it makes her happy. Concerts have always been the best for her, whether it was the Jonas Brothers back in 2008 or Coldplay back in 2016; they’ve always found a place in her heart. And now she can add this to her list, along with the most memorable ham and cheesy run she’s ever had.

They arrive back home after about an hour of driving, though it only took them half of one earlier that day to get to the venue. But I mean, it’s LA traffic, even if it’s just a 20 mile distance. Besides, it gives their ears time to pop and gives them time to destress and let out all their emotions. And it gives Abby time to look through all the videos she took to post the best ones online.

One of them is the video of Y/N and her ugly crying and although Y/N absolutely cringes and begs her not to post it on Twitter, she does so anyway, with the caption “Why is Y/N the biggest mood of the night @username #HarryStylesForum” and Y/N’s annoyed but she’s just finished washing her face and changing into her PJ’s so she falls asleep before she could protest anymore.

She stays asleep with no disturbances for a good 7 hours. She was even having a lovely dream about Thanksgiving back at her parents’ home in San Diego and the roasted duck she was having was delicious. But she’s cut off from the mash potatoes and gravy when Abby’s phone goes off for the millionth time and continues to go off about 20 times in a row after she wakes up. She lets out a soft groan with her face smushed into her pillow and she swings her arm around to feel for Abby to wake her up so she has to deal with it as well. She stops once she hears her friend groan and shuffle through the bed sheets and Y/N tries to get comfortable again, already drifting back to sleep. And she’s almost there.

But then a very loud gasp is heard and a hand is slapping her shoulder hard and continuously and Y/N is far from going back to sleep.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. He replied to my tweet. Oh my god, Y/N, he replied to my tweet.” Okay, yeah, she’s fully awake now.

Y/N sits up in her bed with wide eyes as she peers over Abby’s shoulder to then squint at the bright screen of her phone, watching notifications flood in as accounts follow her, DM her, retweet her, and reply to her. Abby has her original tweet with the video of Y/N open for her to see before she slowly scrolls down a few centimeters to see Harry Styles’ reply, “I’m proud of this moustache, thank you very much.” And now Y/N is having flashbacks.

This is the second time around that he’s called her out in the last 24 hours and she’s felt her stomach drop for the second time as well. Except this time he’s plastered it all over Twitter for everyone to see. Oh, she can just imagine how many death threats she’s going to receive from the worst of fans that are going to take this banter seriously.

With the thought of it, she glances over to her phone that’s perched on her makeup vanity, that was switched to silent as soon as she set her phone down on it earlier that night. She could see the notification light flicker with a green tint (she has a Samsung, not an iPhone, which she is not ashamed of, by the way) above the phone screen, which means that she does, in fact, have Twitter notifications.

She drops her head back in exasperation and lets out another small groan as she wordlessly gets up to retrieve it, planning to block every single account that gives just a hint of negative attitude towards her choice of words. And she begins to do so, opening up the app and scrolling through the 14 DMs she’s already received in the last 5 minutes. Half of them were what she expected and she quickly blocked and reported them for wasting her time. But the other half were amused and were congratulating her on provoking him enough to defend himself, so she took her time to reply back with kind words and a thanks.

This takes her a while, so she climbs back in bed (she knows Abby won’t be able to sleep much after this so she might as well join her) and lays back down with her phone held up above her head (she lives life on the edge). She’s having a cute conversation with a nice girl named Lily when her phone buzzes once, announcing that she just received another DM. So she finishes up her reply and hopes that the next DM will be nice as well as she taps the back button and gazes to the top of the DM list.

Harry Styles. @Harry_Styles:

Ham and cheese girl :D

Holy mother fuck.

#harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry fanfic #fic rec #idk what else to tag #its so hot in california #im going to die from a heat stroke

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years ago

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Ed. Note: Today, September 23, 2018 marks the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Passing of St. Padre Pio into Eternal Life. Happy Feast Day everybody!

A Padre Pio Inspirational Story

A Hymn to Padre Pio

In June of 1998 Alex Quinn’s fifteen-year-old son Philip, was sent home from school with a very bad headache. Within hours after coming home, Philip became paralyzed. Alex and his wife Deirdre rushed Philip to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast. They were both terrified that their son was dying. The initial tests that were taken indicated that Philip had a brain tumor. But four days later, after a multitude of tests, Philip was diagnosed with the deadly disease called encephalitis. The virus had attacked the part of Philip’s brain that controlled movement, speech and memory.

Alex and his wife Deirdre were devastated. They tried to hide their fear from their son and made every effort to appear upbeat and positive when they visited him in the hospital. Day after day he lay motionless and speechless in his hospital bed, showing no sign of improvement. It was heartbreaking for Alex and Deirdre to witness. Philip still had a slight bit of movement left in his hands. He communicated with his parents by placing his thumb up to say “yes” and placing his thumb down to say “no.”

Alex learned that there was a man in Belfast named Brendan Rogers who possessed a relic of Padre Pio, a bandage that had covered his wounded side. The relic had been given to Brendan by Father Alessio Parente, Padre Pio’s personal secretary. Alex got in touch with Brendan and he kindly agreed to bring the relic to Philip. In the Royal Victoria Hospital, Philip was blessed with the relic of Padre Pio and all who were present prayed for his healing.

Weeks went by but sadly there was no improvement in Philip’s condition. Finally, in September, there was a change. When Alex arrived at the hospital to visit his son, Deirdre was in tears. But they were not the usual tears of sadness, they were tears of joy. With great emotion, she told Alex that Philip had spoken a word to her that day. He had said, “mom.” Alex cried too, not only because his heart was filled with renewed hope, but also because it happened to be September 23, Padre Pio’s feast day. From that day forward, Philip slowly began to improve. He would eventually make a complete recovery.

September 23 marked a turning point in Alex’s life as well. He had prayed to Padre Pio for his son’s healing and Padre Pio had sent him an unmistakable sign that he had heard his prayers. Alex knew that his life would never be the same. He now felt certain that he had a special calling, a special mission to somehow express his gratitude to Padre Pio. He did not know how he would do so but he was determined to find a way.

In 2002, Alex’s wife Deirdre was diagnosed with cancer. The family prayed to Padre Pio for another miracle but on August 15, 2003, on the feast of the Assumption, Deirdre passed away. She was surrounded by her loving family. Alex prayed that he would be able to accept the passing of his dear wife.

The night before Deirdre’s funeral, Alex had a vision of his wife. She had a beautiful smile on her face and she was being carried to Heaven by an angel. Alex was at peace, knowing that his wife was now free of pain and was happy in Heaven. Alex clung to his faith in God and found the strength to go on.

Alex began to regularly attend a Padre Pio prayer group that was held in Belfast. One evening at the prayer group, Father O’Rawe, the spiritual director of the group, said that he would like one of the members of the group to compose a hymn to Padre Pio. As Father O’Rawe said the words, he looked directly at Alex. For many reasons, Alex seemed to be the perfect choice.

In addition to his job as a teacher at a primary school in West Belfast, Alex was also a professional musician and a song writer. He wrote the famous song Belfast which had become a big hit throughout the United Kingdom. Alex belonged to a musical group called Barnbrack. The group had been on tour through Ireland, Scotland, England, and Canada and had even sung for the president of Ireland. People everywhere loved listening to the Irish folk ballads that Barnbrack sang.

Alex thought that Father O’Rawe had a wonderful idea regarding the hymn to Padre Pio. He decided to do his best to write a hymn in Padre Pio’s honor. He felt that he owed Padre Pio a great debt. Alex was certain that his son’s miraculous recovery was due to Padre Pio’s intercession.

After Alex finished writing the song to Padre Pio, he went to a recording studio to have it professionally mastered. When the song was released, it became very popular in Ireland where devotion to Padre Pio has always been strong. The CD also featured thirteen other hymns including traditional favorites such as Our God Reigns and Be Not Afraid. Soon England and other countries as well were listening to the hymn to Padre Pio and buying the CD.

Alex decided to give all of the royalties from the song Hymn to Padre Pio to the monastery of Our Lady of Grace in San Giovanni Rotondo where Padre Pio had lived for more than fifty years. Alex knew that the Capuchins in residence there depended on the generosity of others to carry on their apostolate. Alex planned to go in person to deliver the check.

When Alex’s royalties for his song to Padre Pio reached more than 10,000 Euros, he made preparations for his trip to San Giovanni Rotondo. He felt very insecure about traveling alone. In the past, he had always had his wife at his side whenever he went on a trip. One of Alex’s friends was an Italian man. Alex asked him to write a note in Italian explaining that he was traveling to San Giovanni Rotondo. That way, if he got lost or turned around or had any difficulties on the trip, at least he would be able to have the note in hand which explained his destination. Alex’s friend was happy to provide him with the note.

When Alex arrived at the airport in Rome, he looked for a taxi to take him to the bus station. It proved to be more difficult than he had imagined. Evidently, Alex’s Irish accent made it almost impossible for the taxi driver to understand him. The taxi driver summoned five other taxi drivers in order to see if they could decipher what Alex was saying. Finally, one seemed to understand and motioned him to get in his taxi.

Once at the bus station, Alex had the same difficulty when trying to communicate with the ticket-taker. When he asked for a round trip ticket to San Giovanni Rotondo, the ticket-taker could not understand his “Irish brogue.” Alex repeated his request a number of times but to no avail. He finally had to settle for a one way ticket.

When the bus driver made a stop at a convenience store, everyone got off the bus to get something to eat. After Alex had a bite to eat, he stood close to the bus, waiting for the driver to return. By now it had grown dark. He was very tired but he had to stay alert. He estimated that he would get to San Giovanni about midnight. He had made no hotel reservations and he had no idea where he would be staying for the night.

As Alex was pondering his immediate situation and trying not to give in to a nagging feeling of anxiety, a stranger approached him. He spoke to Alex in Italian but unfortunately Alex did not understand a single word of what he said. Alex then spoke to the man in English but the man was not able to understand him. Finally, because of the communication problem, the man simply stared at Alex. He was so friendly and engaging that it seemed a shame to Alex that they could not talk to each other. Alex then remembered the note in his wallet. He handed it to the man who read it with interest.

Soon everyone got back on the bus. Alex noticed that the kind man who had just spoken to him also boarded the bus. During the journey, Alex observed that the man was constantly on his cell phone, making one call after another. The bus driver made many stops along the way, letting people out at one small town after another. Every time the bus pulled to the side of the road to let people off, Alex would ask the bus driver if they were in San Giovanni Rotondo. He couldn’t relax because he was afraid of missing his stop.

When the bus arrived in the town of Foggia, the kind man communicated to Alex by way of hand signals that he was to get off the bus with him. Alex was confused. He was not traveling to Foggia but to San Giovanni Rotondo. But for some reason, Alex trusted the man completely. He did as instructed. They were the only two passengers who got off at the Foggia stop.

In Foggia, Alex and his new found friend, boarded another bus. Alex learned that it was the bus that went to San Giovanni Rotondo. Alex couldn’t believe it. He had no idea that he needed to transfer to a second bus in order to reach his destination. If he had not been assisted by the man, who knows where he might have ended up that night.

When the bus arrived in San Giovanni Rotondo, the man motioned to Alex to follow him. They walked for about twenty minutes until they arrived at the man’s house. The man then drove Alex to a beautiful hotel. To Alex’s great surprise, it was right next to the monastery of Our Lady of Grace. Alex learned that the man had been using his cell phone on the bus, making one call after another, in order to make a hotel reservation for him.

The man went into the hotel and spoke to the manager. Alex was then given one of the finest hotel rooms available. After the man bid him farewell, Alex never saw him again. Unfortunately, he never even got his name. He had been a true “guardian angel” to Alex.

At the monastery of Our Lady of Grace, Alex received a warm welcome from the Capuchin community. They were very grateful to accept his generous donation. They were truly happy about the success of his song to Padre Pio. They invited him to eat with them in the monastery refectory, the same refectory where Padre Pio had taken all of his meals.

The Capuchins also took Alex to the private chapel where Padre Pio used to say his Mass during the 1930’s when he was segregated from the public. Alex prayed in thanksgiving for the healing of his son. He also prayed for his wife Deirdre. He knew that she was with God now. He had the great consolation of seeing that she was at peace and that she was happy.

There would be many more occasions in Alex’s life to give thanks to God for blessings received. He was now able to see that much good had come out of the painful experiences of the past. He would continue to see the hand of God working in miraculous ways in his life. __________

The Testimony of Bill Gleason

Bill Gleason was getting ready to have shoulder surgery in the winter of 2008. The night before the surgery, Bill decided to go to the rectory at Our Lady of the Rosary parish and ask one of the priests for a blessing. Father Louis Solcia answered the rectory door that evening. He blessed Bill with the holy oil of St. Pio and gave him a prayer card. It had St. Pio’s picture on one side and the novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus on the other. Bill did not know anything about St. Pio but he was happy to accept the holy card. Father Louis told him to put it in the pocket of his hospital gown and to keep it there during the surgery.

Bill was not too concerned about the surgery. It was going to be a routine operation, a rotator cuff repair. Nevertheless, he was going to have to go under general anesthetic and he was glad that Father Solcia had prayed for him. Bill had been praying quite a lot in recent months. Due to budget cuts in the state of California, he had been laid off from his supervisory position at the County Office of Education. Ever since the lay off, he had prayed to God for guidance. “Lord, show me what you want me to do with my life and lead me in the path you have marked out for me,” he frequently prayed.

Bill had the shoulder surgery and was to be discharged from the hospital that very afternoon. However, during the surgery, Bill’s breathing became erratic. He had to stay overnight in the hospital and receive breathing treatments throughout the night. Late that evening, his wife Mary Ann called his nurse to see how he was doing. She told the nurse that Bill had a Padre Pio prayer card in the pocket of his hospital gown and she wanted to make sure that he still had it with him. The nurse explained to Mary Ann that Bill had put on a new gown and his other gown had already been sent to the hospital laundry room. The nurse was sorry, but it was too late to recover it.

The next morning, Bill was very surprised to see his Padre Pio prayer card in his room. Bill’s nurse told him that she could sense Mary Ann’s disappointment upon learning that the prayer card was gone. The nurse realized that it must have been important. About two o’clock in the morning, she felt a strong urge to go in search of Bill’s holy card. She went to the hospital laundry room and looked through the bins of dirty clothes until she found it.

After Bill was released from the hospital, he told Mary Ann that he thought they should start attending the Padre Pio prayer group at Our Lady of the Rosary parish. Neither of them had ever attended it before. He also wanted to make a commitment to pray the novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus every day. Father Solcia had told him that it was the prayer that Padre Pio had said daily throughout his life. Bill had thought a lot about the fact that his nurse at the hospital had taken it upon herself to search for his Padre Pio prayer card. No one had asked her to do so. Bill was amazed, not only that she went in search of it, but also that she had found it. He felt for certain that the odds were against recovering it. He believed that it was a sign that he should start attending the Padre Pio devotions.

Toward the end of the year, Bill began to feel ill. He had chronic pain which seemed to intensify with each passing day. Finally, he was hospitalized. Tests revealed that he had Crohn’s Disease. His condition continued to deteriorate. Further tests were taken which indicated that Bill did not have Crohn’s disease. His illness remained undiagnosed.

During his hospital stay, Bill contracted pneumonia as well as the potentially deadly bacterial staph infection called MRSA. His condition became critical. He drifted in and out of consciousness. His breathing became erratic, his heartbeat became irregular, and his blood pressure could not be stabilized. As a last resort, his doctor put him into a medically induced coma.

Finally, after Bill had been in a coma for many days, the doctor told Mary Ann that he could offer no hope for her husband. He had done everything that he could for Bill. Bill was dying. The doctor told Mary Ann to take care of any arrangements that she needed to. Mary Ann called Father Solcia and told him the news. He immediately came down to the hospital and gave Bill the Last Rites and the blessing for the dying.

To his family’s great relief, Bill did not pass away. He came back to consciousness after being in a coma for eighteen days. He told Mary Ann that while he was in a comatose state, he had a remarkable experience. He found himself in a place of pitch darkness. There he saw the faces of frightful demons. It was truly a place of pain and suffering. An angel came to Bill and tried to lead him out of the dark ravine. “We have to climb the mountain, Bill. We have to go toward the light,” his good angel would say. No matter how hard Bill tried, he was always pulled back down toward the darkness. More than anything in the world, Bill wanted to get to the place of light.

At one point, Bill saw a saintly man dressed in robes of pure white. Looking closer, he realized that it was St. Benedict. “Save me!” Bill entreated St. Benedict. St. Benedict pointed toward his right, indicating the way that Bill was to go. Bill went in that direction and soon saw a figure close to him. It was Padre Pio. “Stop right there, Bill,” Padre Pio said, in a voice full of authority. “You must go back. Your work is not finished.” “But what work?” Bill asked. Padre Pio made no reply.

Bill knew that the light was up ahead, but he only had a faint glimpse of it. He was never able to reach it. Instead, when he finally opened his eyes, he saw his earthly angel, Mary Ann, at his hospital bedside. How happy his family was to know that Bill had returned to the land of the living!

All together, Bill spent a total of seventy-eight days in the hospital. He weighed 223 lbs. when he was admitted and he weighed 139 lbs. on the day he was sent home. Bill’s recovery took many months. His family took expert care of him. They were just glad that he was alive.

Bill’s experience in the hospital gave him a whole new perspective on life. Before his illness, he had often attended Mass simply to fulfill his Sunday obligation. Not anymore. Today, he looks forward to going to Mass on Sundays. He knows what a privilege it is. His relationship with God has become much deeper and much more real. He has peace of mind and peace of heart. His faith is stronger now than it has ever been in his life.

These days, Bill assists Mary Ann in Our Lady’s Catholic Book and Gift Shop on the grounds of Our Lady of the Rosary parish. He sees his work there as a ministry. He always wears a little pin of St. Pio and a medal of St. Benedict. People often ask him about the pin and the medal. It has become an opportunity for him to share his faith with others. He keeps prayer cards of St. Pio with him and often gives them to the customers at the shop.

At the Padre Pio prayer group one evening, Father Solcia surprised Bill by asking him to step forward and share his testimony with the prayer group. He was happy to do so. Since that time, many people have asked Bill to relate his story of how Padre Pio helped him in the hospital, after his doctors had informed his family that he had no hope of recovery. A number of people have told Bill that his words have strengthened their faith.

Bill feels that he has been given a second chance at life. His family was certain that they were losing him. His own doctor confirmed it. But as our faith teaches us, God always has the final word. Indeed, our lives are in His hands. Bill knows for certain now that he has work left to do. Each new day is a gift from God and an opportunity to share his faith and to serve. Today Bill is alive and well and working in the service the Lord.

#padre pio

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