#do u catch my drift. i can say it a different way a fourth time if necessary i dont think i can verbalize my thoughts well

[luvbug724]

obsessed w jeanee Actually. she drove hours in the middle of the night for him. she organised a heist for him. she blackmails a university for him. she was willing to break into the nest w brute force for him. she was willing to rob a hardware store to do it. she seriously contemplates climbing over barbed wire fences to get to him. she handles diversions and distractions with grace for him. she has the invasive curiosity to want to know all abt his little knick knacks. she resorts to violence when someone tries to stop her from getting to him. she prays for him. she talks to him softly when the only feeling in the room is rage. she pushes his hair out of his face. she checks his pulse obsessively. YEAH………… are we all seeing this rn

its so wonderful to me too because like this is RENEE. renee, who is a bad person trying very hard to be good. there was a post going around maybe a month ago how empathy for everyone circles back around into empathy for no one i can't remember any of the specifics but it rlly did something for how i see renee because shes a protector. its defensive. its safe. she knows the limits, she knows the point of no return because shes been to rock bottom and clawed her way up but she's willing to do whatever she needs to to get jean out of the nest.

there is a big difference between cradling allison when andrew hurts her vs actively threatening eau, going on the offense to make sure jean leaves safe with her. there's something insane to me abt how a few months of texting and calling jean could push her to that point, the point where she needed to be talked down off the ledge before the plan was more natalie than renee because this was something she absolutely could not fuck up. she knew that her efforts would be worthless if she didn't create a plan that couldn't backfire, because the punishment for jean trying to leave and failing (and i'm sure that message to renee would be used against him) or leaving and coming back would be 1000x worse than whatever they could do to him from a distance.

and then when she has him in his arms and she knows he's going to be safe, he'll be okay as long as she can get him to abby, she can let herself be kind again.

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (ii)

AN: i’m so sorry for the delay on this second chapter, i got really caught up with uni stuff and then some personal projects i’ve been working on. anyways i have about a month off and will do my best to catch up on this story! hope u guys enjoy this one….happy holidays!

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping for you to let her in.

pairings: writer!natasha romanoff x youngactress!reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: natalie is lowkey a mastermind. rumored romance with another certain actress…..

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

3 weeks later.

new york is everything you love, put into one city. you thrive in it’s anonymity, ironically.

it’s got the strong sense of culture, the food, the creativity, and the people. like every single person who walks the streets is made to belong there, they all have their purpose for making new york what it is.

that’s what you think as you’re sat outside a coffee shop on 463 w broadway.

you make a note of how one day you’ll commit to living here. you also make note of just how reckless it’d be if you just up and left la then never went back. you hate la, you’ve come to find out. yet there’s so much that keeps you there. you hate it. you don’t belong there. but in some sense of the word, you do.

you sigh with the shake of your head, adjust the cap securely on your head, and tighten the large overcoat you have on. the latte in front of you seeming more interesting now. the still hot liquid distracts you from the intrusive thoughts.

your mind drifts off to natalie. you’re immediately taken back to that night at the party. it’s your first time thinking of that night in weeks. and you realize how you truly haven’t felt the way you did that night, since. you remember the conversations you had, you remember how she went to school at nyu, how she told you she hasn’t left new york since. how she never plans to.

you wonder how she’s doing, if she’s in the city. if she remembers you, or has even thought of you.

it makes you a little sad to think about. your life hasn’t slowed down since the release of the series and sometimes all you wanted was to find some small relief in it all. even with the short-lived moments of connection it feels odd to come back from something like that and move on with your life.

your thought is cut short with a text message from samantha.

greta decided to move the meeting a little earlier. she apologizes for the last minute change. can you be there in the next 30 minutes?

you text a quick reply saying that you’ll be there as soon as you can. with that, you grab your to go cup and find the nearest subway that’ll take you up to 19th street.

you make it there just within the thirty minute mark. a kind man waits for you to arrive at the door and leads you up the elevator to the fourth floor of the walk up.

you’re surprised to see who is seated next to greta when you walk in.

“oh good, you made it! let me introduce you to—” you cut her off.

“—natalie.”

the redhead stands from her seat at the table and reaches over it to shake your hand.

“it’s a pleasure we meet again.” her eyes say something different. not bad necessarily, but something more. you’re not sure what it might be. greta’s eyes light up at the gesture.

“oh you’ve met! well, natalie here is gonna be joining us as head writer right besides me and noah for the next season.”

it’s your turn for your eyes to light up. a sense of relief floods through you. natalie isn’t here just to be here, she was here to be part of something with you.

you turn to her with a genuine smile. though you’ve worked with the people in this room for over a year, natalie is drastically different to them.

natalie was the first person who spoke to you as if you were just you. she didn’t bother you about work and stuff.

she talked to you about things that interested you, that interested her. she talked to you like you were just another individual who happened to be at the same party she was at.

“that’s- that’s actually really good to hear. i’m really excited for how this’ll turn out.”you let out a laugh, one that says you’re still trying to comprehend the news.

“right well, let’s get the meeting started!” greta claps her hands together and sits down.

——

natalie hasn’t stopped staring at you since the meeting started.

she hopes you’re as interested in the meeting as you look, because then at least she’d be sure you haven’t figured out her staring problem.

she only catches your eyes whenever greta or noah turn the attention towards her, then you’re forced to look at her. but she’s always just in time to look away before you can notice the stares.

the truth is, natalie is an absolute maniac. she’s a psychopath. she’s a writer for gods sake!

writers have a tendency to be more in sync with their awareness which is great…but they’re also more able to get in touch with that darker side in their psyche. how else do you think she managed to snag a few award-winning films under her belt?

her creativity reaches into places in her mind most wouldn’t even consider to think of.

point is, natalie is a huge romanticist, and it’s a problem. sometimes.

in her defense, greta came up to her for this job. so in some sense of the word, it was fate. plus, tony had put in a good word, not that she asked him to. obviously.

up until that point, natalie had no clue on how to get to you. her only idea was writing her next screenplay and giving you the lead.

but now, the ball was in her court. she takes the next shot.

the meeting ended and everyone was seeing themselves out. natalie thinks of what to say while she’s packing her things but you beat her to it instead.

“it was really nice to see you again.” she hears you say. she lifts her head up, you’re smiling and your hands are stuffed into your coat pockets. a smile easily reaches her eyes at the sight.

“i’m glad. i’ve already got some plans for where i want to take this next season.” natalie replies with an enthusiastic smile.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise eager to know what she might have to say but you hold yourself back. she wouldn’t spoil that for you, even if you asked.

“i have trust you’ll do it right then, i’ve already grown so protective of this show, especially my character.” it was very true. there were moments where you really had to oversee things going on with the script. thank god greta was as collaborative as she is. you’d always try exploring things with your character and she was always very supportive of where you’d take things. it made the series all the more fulfilling to you, honestly.

natalie confirms that she’ll do anything she thinks is in your best interest for the show and before she even realizes it, you’re making a move she wasn’t expecting.

“i know this is on short notice, but…i saw this really nice bistro on my way here and, i’d love to get to know my head writer more…over brunch?” you ask timidly. the thought to ask her had occurred to you only a few seconds ago. natalie seemed wise, and you liked it and she was here with you now and honestly, you just wanted some good company while being in the city.

“yeah i can do lunch. yeah that’s great actually.” natalie was surprised. to say the least. she hadn’t planned to continue the day with you. she decides this was her chance in. her way of getting to know you better, something she’s been desperate to get back to since she realized it that night in her home.

you lead her out of the building where you’re met with the crisp wind of new york city. car horns and police sirens are heard as you walk through the streets of the flatiron neighborhood. on the way to the restaurant you ask eachother how you’ve been.

you tell her about how you just wrapped up your press tour in europe and had spent a few nights with some friends in london. natalie pays close attention to every word that is hung from your lips. she notices to light blush that covers your cheeks and nose due to the cold and she almost reaches out to pull you in closer.

as you speak, she tries not to notice the obvious man with the camera that makes himself known a few hundred feet away from you. a sense of pride makes washes over her at the fact that there’d be a picture taken of the two of you, together.

you end your story and in return ask her how she’s been. natalie doesn’t miss the genuine interest shown in your eyes as she talks.

even as you reach the restaurant and are seated you never lose your sense.

natalie talks and talks and you listen. you’re so entranced by her stories that you’ve come to find that you deeply admire her for what she does and says. it makes you feel all the more excited for the chance at working with her.

she tells you she’s never not writing. even before greta came along to offer her the role of head writer, she was still writing. natalie tells you about the screenplay she was working on, how she plans to direct it as well.

you beam at her revelation seeming genuinely excited at the fact that she’d be making a movie sometime in the future. you tell her that she better invite you to the premiere.

natalie laughs off your comment. she doesn’t tell you how she got back into her writing after she saw you on her screen for the first time, all those months ago.

or how you’re the muse in her next story.

once your ordered food comes in you sit in a comfortable silence as you eat.

“what do you do on your days off?” natalie asks suddenly. she looks up at you through her lashes, her fork playing with the baked eggs on her plate.

you’re so caught off guard by her question it makes you blush at the way she stares you down. you chew down the food in your mouth and answer.

“uh, i like going home, to see my mom. she doesn’t let me stay for more than i need to though, she says i need to go out and meet new people.” you chuckle. your mom was your biggest supporter but also your biggest critic. although she always enjoys her time with you, she was always telling you to go meet with some of your hometown friends.

it’s why you liked going home so much. she’s great at grounding you when you need to be.

“oh? and have you met any new people?” natalie’s interest is piqued by now. she carefully treads around the question, hoping, wishing for any information that’d give her an in into what she desperately wants to know.

who are you with when you’re not alone? who do you think of when you are?

“i mean, i’ve met some really cool people through mutual friends." you reveal.

“wow, so you haven’t met anyone you fancy?” natalie plays it off coolly. she treads along the sacredness that is your romances. and natalie doesn’t mention the fact that she’s read into your love life recently. the rumors of you and another actress.

the one you were pictured with in london very recently.

“huh? oh, no. i don’t really have anyone like that in my life right now.” you nervously chuckle at her question.

“so you and that actress aren’t a couple? you and jenna ortega?” natalie feeds a forkful of food into her mouth, seeming very nonchalant about what she just asked.

you try not to laugh at natalie’s question. your eyebrows raise in surprise at her very forward question. it’s almost comical, really.

jenna was amongst the close group of friends you stayed with while in london.

she was a flame, someone you’d come to deeply admire over the time spent knowing her. she tells you things that you learn from, you check on eachother, you bring eachother back down to earth.

and she was one of the few people you could actually depend on with your life in this industry.

the silent shock wears off. you’re not sure what to say, except the fact that you feel a little embarrassed at her question. that even natalie of all people had heard about your supposed love life.

something that you tried to keep nurtured as much as possible.

“she’s one of my best friends.” you finally say. more sure than anything. you try not to laugh at the accusation. the idea of it seeming so far away from where you are now.

“i haven’t even dated in such a long time.” you even go as far to say. anything to make it clear you’re nowhere near any level of romance with anyone.

you miss the look of surprise on natalie’s face when you say this. she sets her fork down to sip from the breakfast martini she had ordered. she sets her glass down and takes a look at you, leaning forward only slightly.

“i was so sure someone as pretty as you wouldn’t have stayed single for so long.” then she looks down at her plate with a small smile, contemplating. there’s a beat of silence.

finally, she looks up.

“can’t say i’m disappointed at being proved wrong though.” she finishes.

you laugh at natalie’s comment. it’s all you could do, not really sure at what she could be getting at. you even blush a little.

and natalie misses none of it.

[seijorhi]

hello, i love your writing and was hoping if u could write a yandere kuroo x reader where he corners her in a corner and kenma is there and is getting off from it 😳 thank u !

Asdfghjkl this was supposed to be posted on Sunday I’m sorry, bby!! I hope it’s worth the wait! 💕 also, loved this request so thanks for sending it in 😊

Kuroo Tetsuro x Female Reader, Kenma Kozume x Female Reader

TW dub con, coercion (kinda?), stalking, humiliation

Helping Hand

There’s a certain peace you find in the looming stacks of the library after the sun sets. It’s quieter then, less people milling about. You don’t have to fight for space or books, and considering you have midterms soon and essays coming out of your ears, that makes it the perfect study environment.

It’s only a little after eight, the library’s still open for another two and a half hours, but on the fourth floor it’s almost a ghost town - just how you like it. There’s a professor tucked away in the back corner, piles of books built up around him, an older librarian with her trolley, slowly re-shelving books, and two other guys around your age sitting huddled at a table a few down from yours - the textbooks and highlights spread across their desk having been long since abandoned in favour of literally anything else.

Honestly, you’d wonder why they’d bother coming to the library at all if it wasn’t an almost daily occurrence. Most days you were there, so were they - usually together, although it wasn’t uncommon to see just one of them camped out between the stacks as you made your way to your desk. The duo, one tall and lean with a shock of messy dark hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the other smaller, more reserved, with bleached hair and dark roots in serious need of a touch up, seemed to prefer this time to study too - not that they ever seemed to actually do all that much studying.

Usually the blonde ends up absorbed in his switch while the other casually thumbs through whichever book is closest.

So long as they were quiet and didn’t disturb you, who were you to judge?

You don’t really remember when they’d started to appear, only that they’d quickly become a fixture in your refuge - distantly familiar presences like strangers travelling on the same bus to work each day. They smile (well, the dark haired one does) and nod whenever you happen to look up from your notes and catch their eye, and while you’ve only spoken a handful of words to the both of them, they always seemed nice. 

Nicer than the clearly overworked professor muttering away in the corner at any rate, which makes them the logical choice to approach when you find your bladder uncomfortably full halfway through your self imposed study session. Realistically, you know at this time of the night nobody else is likely to make their way up to the fourth floor, much less have any interest in your shitty, old laptop or the five whole dollars in your wallet - yet you find you making your way over to the twosome’s table anyway, a faint blush dusting across your cheeks.

“… don’t want to,” you overhear the blonde mutter, his attention wholly focused upon the game in his hands. “Things are fine, why change that?”

His friend sighs, “Because you can deny it all you want, but I know you better than that. I know I’m not the only one who wants more. You can’t just sit back and…” he trails off suddenly, hazel eyes flickering over to you in surprise. 

Confused by his friend’s sudden silence, the blonde lowers his game and glances up - only to still at the sight of you.

You swallow down your nerves, plastering what you hope is a friendly enough smile across your face, “Hi, uh… sorry to interrupt you guys, but would you mind watching my stuff for a few minutes while I go to the bathroom? I won’t be long or anything, I just don’t like leaving my stuff out in the open,” you say with a sheepish laugh, well aware that you’re rambling like an idiot. 

It’s the dark haired one who answers, a wide grin breaking across his face as he nods, “Yeah, no worries. We’d be glad to.”

You smile back, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach (he does look kind of cute grinning like that), thanking him again before rushing away in the direction of the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift away from the duo back to the essay you’re mid-way through drafting. You have a sinking feeling that the argument you’re trying to use in the fourth paragraph is essentially a just rehash of the point you made in the first. By the time you unlock the stall door and make your way over to the sink to wash your hands, you’re starting to debate the merits of scrapping the whole thing and starting fresh with new ideas.

You still technically have time, it’s not due until the end of the month, but you just kind of want it done so you don’t have to think about it anymore. Then again, that’s kind of your feelings towards the semester as a whole. 

Who are you kidding? University’s kicking your ass this year.

The ancient hand dryer’s almost deafening as it clicks on - it masks the sound door swinging open and the footsteps that echo out from the tile floors.

It’s only when your eyes flicker up to mirror that you see that you’re no longer alone-

Standing right behind you is the guy from before; the tall, dark haired one. 

- and jerk in surprise, stumbling backwards with a choked yelp.

It doesn’t hit you right away - no, that’s relief that has you drawing a hand over your chest and letting out a shaking laugh. “You scared the hell out of me!” you say, bracing yourself over the sink to try and calm your breathing.

No, it doesn’t hit you quickly. Realisation is slow - creeping through your veins like ice as your eyes flicker back up the mirror. 

He hasn’t moved. 

He’s smiling, grinning really, but there’s something… something off about it. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes… Why isn’t he saying anything?

W-why isn’t he moving away?

Your heart, still hammering from his shock of his sudden appearance, squeezes uncomfortably and your eyes slowly widen.

“Wh-”

A rough, calloused palm slaps across your mouth, smothering whatever words you’d been about to speak. “Ah, ah. Gotta keep it down, sweetheart.”

He winks at you in the mirror, taking a tiny step towards you and you squeak, breathing in sharp, shallow pants through your nose as a warm, muscled chest presses against your back. “You’re a nervous little thing, aren’tcha?” he chuckles. “Relax a little - promise I don’t bite.”

With one hand wrapped around your lips the other creeping across your waist, his words don’t exactly bring you a lot of comfort. 

It makes no difference either way - you’re paralysed, shaking and trembling, but utterly unable to move as he noses at the column of your throat, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You could scream, but there’s no guarantee anybody would hear you. You could try and fight him off, but he’s taller than you, and you’re willing to bet stronger as well.

Will he hurt you if you try and resist?

Is he gonna hurt you anyway?

You’ve heard the stories before about men who follow women into empty bathrooms and the awful things they do, but you never...

Those things don’t happen in places like this. The library is supposed to be safe, he- he’s been-

Your stomach drops.

Weeks. 

He’s been visiting the library with his friend, sitting across from you for weeks.

His eyes bore into your reflection in the mirror like he can hear every terrified thought that passes through your head, and with excruciating slowness you’re forced to watch as his lips brush a kiss against your cheek, lingering and sweet - a mockery of tenderness. 

A scared little whimper is all you can manage, and even that is swallowed up by the sound of the bathroom door squeaking open once more. 

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening.

A faint burst of hope flickers to life.

You might not be a fighter, but this might be the only chance you have. You shriek again, the sound woefully muffled, and writhe against your captor’s tightening grip as slow footsteps round the corner.

Please, you think as tears stream silently down your face. Please help me.

What little hope you have is quickly - brutally - extinguished as your would be saviour steps into view.

Your legs shake and you’re almost positive that if it wasn’t for the strong arms wrapped around you, you would have crumpled to the floor.

It’s his friend, the blonde, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, watching the scene before him - you struggling against an iron grip, gagged and terrified - like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. 

Your captor chuckles, relaxing his grip as his hand drifts upwards to palm at your breast and you want to die. “Glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” the blonde groans as he makes his way over, but he barely glances at his friend before his catlike eyes come to rest on you.

Your cheeks are burning, a potent mix of shame, nausea and dread churning in your stomach as you’re crudely felt up, but under the blonde’s attention you freeze.

While his face is a blank mask of apathetic disinterest, those golden irises are piercing in their intensity as they study you.

The glint in his eyes is as unmistakable as it is stark; anticipation - like a house cat watching a golden canary flit restlessly in its cage.

The hiccuping sob comes unbidden, choking at your throat as you wail against the palm at your lips. You’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your entire life, to slap yourself awake and realise that it’s nothing but a stress induced nightmare because this can’t be happening.

Why you?

What could you possibly have done to deserve this?

“Relax,” Kuroo repeats, leaning down over you again, “we’re not gonna hurt you. Just wanna have some fun, that’s all.” You think he’s going to try and kiss you again, but instead his tongue darts out and he licks at the silvery tear tracks, groaning softly.

You shoot the quiet blonde a desperate, pleading look. He hasn’t lifted a finger to stop what’s happening, hasn’t done anything other than stare at you, but even as his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile you hold out on the shadow of a prayer that maybe, just maybe-

Kuroo follows your wide, panicked gaze and almost snorts. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, baby. Kenma’s not gonna help you. He wants this just as badly as I do.” His thumb slides across your cheek, brushing away more tears, “C’mon, on your knees.”

He doesn’t give you a choice - the hand on your shoulder forces your shaking knees to buckle and you fall down to the bathroom floor.

The tiles are cold against your bare legs, but the shivers that wrack through you have little to do with the temperature. It’s far too late to regret the short skirt you’d thrown on that morning.

Kuroo hums appreciatively, lifting his palm to tap it a few times against your cheek like you’re an adorable little puppy who’s just learned its first trick, “It’s a good look for you, baby, but I think it’d be even better without this-” his fingers tug at the collar of your top and his grin widens, “- in the way.” 

Yet he makes no move to take it off for you. One look into his eyes, the glittering amusement darkened with lewd desire and you know that he won’t.

He wants you to do it, to play along in their fun - to be an active participant in your own humiliation.

And really, what other choice do you have?

It’s impossible to ignore the bulge straining against his jeans as your trembling fingers grip the hem of your top and reluctantly yank it upwards. There’s a sharp inhale - Kuroo you think - and a whistle as it comes off, baring your lacy bra and the soft skin underneath to their hungry gazes. 

Only for a moment. 

Staring resolutely at the floor you’re quick to try and cover what little modesty you have left, bringing your arms up to wrap around your chest-

Except a hand catches at your wrist and tugs it back, and when you glance up you find it’s Kenma’s. 

“… Don’t,” he murmurs. “I want to see you.”

You let your arms drop, hands clenching into shaking fists in your lap, fingernails biting into your palm.

The sound of a zipper being pulled undone is almost deafening in the quiet bathroom. Fresh tears sting at your eyes, but you can’t bear to look at either of them as Kuroo reaches inside his pants and frees his cock.

The hand that cups your cheek is surprisingly gentle as he coaxes your face back towards him and the achingly hard member in his grip. “See Kenma, I told you - change ain’t always a bad thing.”

His dark eyes flicker back to you and he grins, “Open up, sweetheart.”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Okay but. Your opinion on the new album by Nothing but Thieves?

so you said TEA TIME!

To be honest! I don’t really like it! I’ve not been a huge fan of any of the singles that have been put out (I’ve needed a while for them to grow on me, is what I mean, my first impressions were not my fave). I’ve been dying to talk about this, so I’m going to go a bit overboard in my analysis :) ALSO: this is my favourite band of all time I listen to their music every day and have been doing so for years and even though I don’t like this album, it is important to note I really didn’t like NBT at first but grew to my current loooove status after my workplace played Broken Machine every day and I just... love Conor’s vocals! So it could be that this album just needs to grow on me.

1. Is Everybody Going Crazy

First single released, my first impression was wowza this is a bit poppy, but it was catchy, and I like this song (so much I learned how to play it)! Reminded me a bit of songs I don’t love as much on the other albums like Live Like Animals and Ban All the Music (tho I still like these songs, just not as much as others). Have played this many times when I had the aux.

2. Real Love Song

Second song released, and my first impression was: I like! Sounds more like The Killers than typical NBT but I’m not mad at that in the slightest! Lyrically not my fave of their discography but a very fun song. I bought the alternative version because I like it so much (alternative version is gorgeous). Def put this song on if I had the aux.

3. Unperson

I think this was the third single? I listened to it once, was so confused and didn’t listen to it again for a few more weeks (to me it sounded like NBT, The Strokes, Paramore and Panic! at the Disco all in one song lol). This one is catchy after a while but I still don’t like the chorus because it sounds a lot like Panic! at the Disco (no shade to P!ATD I just don’t love that particular sound). I do like the energy however and this song has grown on because it is catchy despite the problems I have with it! I’ve written many scenes while listening to this song. If I had the aux, I probably wouldn’t put this song on!

4. Impossible

Ohhhh Impossible! Fourth single, and probably my least favourite! I think this song to me has the least lyrical intricacy I’m used to seeing in NBT’s work, and while I’m so happy to see some more upbeat/happy work, I think some of the production in the chorus (the backing vocals! it’s really the backing vocals!) is just too cheesy for me. This gives me NBT wedding song vibes, which is not my fave vibe, but I can see why others love it! Despite it being my least favourite of the singles, I actually do listen to this song because I like it (but I don’t like it does this make any sense) and it’s not my least favourite song of theirs by any means, it just doesn’t seem like NBT (I hate to say that since I love seeing them branch out, but I hope y’all catch my drift). The live Abbey Road session was a lot of fun and I watched it many times! Also I can’t help but hear the My Beloved Monster riff when I listen to this song! Probably wouldn’t reach for this at first when I have the aux because of the cheesiness. VERY cool music video!

5. Phobia

I LOVE this song and have been obsessed with it since it came out. I love the distinctive three parts and the buildup. It has the quiet vibe I love in If I Get High, Tempt You (Evocatio) and Graveyard Whistling while still having that FUN intensity at the end like in Forever & Ever More and I Was Just A Kid. Not exactly their usual sound right in the beginning (Billie Eilish vibes) but I think this experimentation was very well done. My favourite on the album!

As for the rest of the songs, the truth is I haven’t listened to them very much. I think the boys have done some really cool stuff with experimenting from their “usual” sound (if u heard Can You Afford to Be An Individual you KNOW), but I def think it’s a case of “I need to listen to this a lot more for it to grow on me” (which TO BE FAIR is the only reason I love NBT now because I really didn’t like their sound at all and I say this with the utmost love and as someone who has converted many NBT haters <3).

FINAL THOUGHTS:

I think a main problem I might have with this album is the production & drums. No shade at all because I think they’re individually well done, but put together with Conor’s vocals, everything for me doesn’t seem to fit. I think this to me was proven when I watched their liveshow Thursday where they performed Free If We Want It and it was soooo much better live than in the recording since the production was a lot less intense. I think I’m also missing some of the Buckley x Muse vibes I usually get from their work that has moved into its own sound of NBT even in songs that don’t “sound typically” NBT, like You Know Me Too Well and Soda). I absolutely am not looking for them to make the same music forever and think it’s important artists’ sound change as they change as a band--so I’m not saying that! I guess I’m just missing them same charged intention I feel when I listen to their other work (which again to be fair I didn’t like/appreciate until MONTHS of listening to their music at work hahaha and I am now obsessed and their songs never get old).

Of their entire body of work, it was impossible for me to rank a favourite (I love Broken Machine, the self titled album and What Did You Think When You Made Me This Way) equally and differently in so many ways, but I unfortunately think it would be easier for me to rank Moral Panic because it’s just underwhelmed me on first listen. This might also be because they released so many singles (about half the album) which absolutely makes sense because of the pandemic, however, I think took away from me being able to find some “gems” among the songs I don’t like as much (the songs that were left when the album released, at least for me) so those songs just don’t have as much of a chance as they possibly could have had they only released 2 or 3 singles.

AGAIN to be fair, this is the exact reaction I first had listening to NBT so it may grow on me as I hear the beautiful intricacies in each song, but for now, I’m sticking to the older stuff! Waiting for my tour t-shirt and signed album to come in the mail tho!!! Love NBT! My mom also loves NBT!! She made me watch three versions of If I Get High with her on the TV last night and they were all great! so! NBT is still great, this album is just not my fave!

that’s the end of my essay I realize this is a bit ridiculous I just had THOUGHTS okay bye!

[lovelyirony]

omg 10. “change in mind or change in heart?” with natmaria please? xx

Maria Hill does not like crushes. Ever. They complicate things, are never returned, and mess her up. 

This is why she does not like being around Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow. Tasha. Whatever you call her, Maria avoids her. 

This isn’t rational, she knows that. Maria can be a very rational person, but not about emotions. If she could still maintain a shred of empathy every now and again, she would cut out every single emotion entirely. 

Apparently, that is “severely unhealthy” and “please see a therapist, Ms. Hill.” 

It’s Deputy-Director Hill, firstly. Secondly, her whole job is severely unhealthy. She’s not going to stop working it. 

But back to the matter at hand. A crush. Crushes are stupid. All the time. Because when Maria gets a crush, she tends to imagine unrealistic scenarios, reads into every single action, and acts very illogically. 

Such as leaving the break room when her break has just started because Natasha enters and smiles at her. 

Or the time that Maria volunteered to do one of the hardest missions of the week because she decided that it would be better to focus her energies on not being killed and taking down a trafficking ring in Texas and dealing with gun-happy people than sitting down and telling someone that she had feelings for them. 

This did not happen out of the blue. 

Sure, she noticed Natasha when she first came. Hell, everyone did. With her Cupid’s Bow lips, green eyes that could stare right through you, and a killer figure, she bewitched everyone and she knew it. 

But that’s just noticing someone. That’s not knowing how they smile when they find something really funny. That’s not noticing how someone takes their coffee. 

And it’s not falling for someone. 

People tell you that it’s “love at first sight.” Pro-Tip: falling in love happens quickly, but it ain’t that quickly. 

Maria falls in a month. 

It is when she notices that Natasha refuses to drink coffee without creamer. It is when they share jokes and looks at some of Fury’s more petty quips, share a mission, and Natasha laughs. 

She laughs. 

And Maria falls. It’s like when she takes a dive from a tall building and there’s that split-second moment of being worried you didn’t bring your parachute or your team doesn’t have your back. 

So Maria has a little freak-out in her office and on the drive home. It’s fine. She just yells and someone to the right of her car stares, but it’s Fine. 

Things are Fine. 

(They are not Fine.) 

Because she likes Natasha. Likes her in the way that she wonders how it would feel to kiss her, to run her hands through her curls and get them tangled up. 

What if they got too tangled up? What if she accidentally got her hand stuck and then Natasha had to cut her hair and hated her for all of eternity? 

- 

The worst part of having a crush, in Maria’s experience as a human on earth, is quite often it is not returned. There is either the painful experience of them softly smiling and telling you that they are honored, but not like that. Friends, please? 

Or you drift and drift away and you don’t know them and they still smile at you but it’s not the same it can’t be the same all because you were fucking stupid and messed it up and then you’re alone, and--

Wow. Too personal. 

Anyways. They do not return it. And someone like Natasha...a girl could dream. But dreams are short-lived. And they are often just that. 

So she could think about getting coffee with Natasha before work and sneaking kisses while they commute together. She could think about taking her out to dinner and smiling across the table and arguing who will pick up the check. 

But that’s not possible. 

So Maria gets the hell on with her job and reviews over the paperwork twice. 

- 

It’s not until Coulson asks her to come into his office and she sees her. 

“Hey Mar,” Natasha says, smiling. “Fancy having a bit of a fun weekend.” 

Maria’s cheeks color. 

“Um, sure?” 

Natasha laughs. 

“You’re cute when you blush,” Natasha says. 

“Stop flirting in my office, it’s going to scar me,” Coulson says blandly. “I need you both to go undercover for a weekend. We’re supposed to be intercepting confidential medical information from one Dr. Tanner. She’s attending an exclusive LGBTQ club event. You’ll drop in Friday, fraternize Saturday, and lure her in. Got it?” 

“With all due respect Phil, why two of us?” Maria asks. “Natasha would do great, um. I don’t mean to sound creepy about that.” 

“None taken,” Nat says, grinning. 

“Two different styles,” Phil says. “Don’t make me explain. Just bring that blazer and the red pants you like. Go, plane lift-off at seven in the morning.” 

Maria nods. 

And then freaks out. In her apartment. 

Should she buy new perfume? Should she get a new face mask? Maybe she could pack seven different lipsticks, or maybe--

She’s overthinking this. By a lot. But damn, it’s with Natasha. Alone. 

- 

Natasha is excited. She’s the one who convinced Phil to let her put Maria on this mission. It’s logic. She could do it by herself. But it’s so much fun when you have a gorgeous woman at your side. 

She’s intending to tell Maria how she feels. She’s noticed the glances, the way Maria smiles at her. The most important part is that she knows that Maria isn’t just looking. 

So she’s packing, and she’s bringing her nice dress. 

- 

Maria shows up to the airport in comfy jeans, an old college sweatshirt, and has her hair pushed back into a messy ponytail. 

“Too early,” she grumbles, gripping her backpack. 

Natasha, of course, looks put together as always. She smiles at Maria. 

“Good sleep?” 

“None, unfortunately.” 

“Worried about the mission?” 

“More like the outfit.” 

“We can change it up when we get there,” Natasha says. “For now, you’re all good. I was thinking we get lunch when we get there?” 

“Sounds good.” 

The plane takes off, Maria fails to get a nap in, and instead texts Tony memes. 

you know every single time you text me i’m in shock 

why, because you know i’m funny? 

no, not that. just shook that you actually contact me. i thought you had bad guys to catch. 

i do. just on a plane for now. 

oh, with nat ;) she mentioned being excited about the mission! happy u get 2 spend quality time with her, loser 

i will tell pepper about the candle incident. 

i will literally give you an apartment for free if you don’t do that 

i want locations. 

Maria smiles to herself, looking out. 

“Gorgeous, right?” Natasha asks, smiling at her. “I think we’re gonna have some fun, Mar.” 

She likes the nickname. A lot. Probably more than she should. 

But they touch down, get their car, and Maria looks up restaurants. 

Natasha settles on Mexican. 

It’s a nice place, all things considered. They make easy conversation as they drive, and end up getting a table and looking at the menu. The salsa is good. Has a bit too much cilantro, but eh. What are you gonna do? 

“So, what do we know about Dr. Tanner?” Maria asks. 

“She likes women a lot, and she also likes performing illegal procedures on people.” 

“Dynamic.” 

Natasha laughs, sipping more of her water. 

They check into the hotel, get to their room, and find out that there’s only one bed. 

One. Fucking. Bed. 

“We can make a switch, maybe, but--” 

“It’s fine,” Natasha says smoothly, cutting the attendant off. “No trouble at all, but thank you.” 

Things are Fine. 

Just that Maria realizes that technically she will sleep with Natasha. Not in the usual way. But. Still. Sleep. 

They also have to get ready in the same bathroom and room. 

Great. 

- 

At least they both like trashy reality TV and documentaries. They share stories about work, share a mutual hatred for a coworker, and agree to have coffee when they get back. 

“There’s a great little place that I think you’ll love,” Natasha says. “It’s right by my apartment.” 

“I’d love that,” Maria says, smiling. “A lot.” 

- 

And then it’s time to get ready for the night. 

Maria decides to commandeer the bathroom, fiddling with her suit. She’s not sure if it’s too much with the heels. It might be. She still does her mascara and lipstick. 

And then she exits. 

Natasha falters in applying her lipstick. 

“Damn Maria. Damn.” 

Maria smiles. 

“You clean up well yourself, Romanoff.” 

(Natasha loves how she says her last name.) 

Maria cannot stop staring at Natasha. Because she looks stunning. 

-

This mission is boring. It could’ve been one person. Which makes Maria curious as to why there are two of them. Not that she’s necessarily complaining. It just...doesn’t make sense. 

Dr. Tanner is already infatuated with Natasha. She’s enamored, following her around like a dog on a leash. 

It’s amusing. Maria hates it. She’s on her fourth plate of appetizers. 

She has also gotten approached by a very cute woman. 

“Hey gorgeous,” she purrs. “I’m Lily. You are?” 

“Valerie,” Maria responds. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“In that suit...the pleasure’s all mine,” Lily says. “My hotel room is 202, if you’re interested.” 

“I don’t believe so,” Natasha says, laying an arm around her waist. “Ready to go, honey?” 

Maria grins. 

“Sorry Lily, but I hope you find someone cute.” 

Natasha leads her out of the club. 

“I got the USB device. Put it in her device, huge mistake. Glad we don’t need to break into her hotel room. Anyways, room service?” 

“Sounds good,” Maria says, mouth going dry. “You can, um, stop having your arm around my waist. If you want. I don’t mind.” 

Natasha smiles. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Change of mind or change of heart?” Maria asks, grinning nervously. 

“Neither. Always liked you, Hill. I thought you knew. That’s why I wanted you here on the mission.” 

Maria blinks, smiles, and grabs Natasha’s hand. 

“Cancel room service, I don’t think it’s necessary.” 

Natasha smiles. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

“You’re scared of that, aren’t you?” with whoever speaks to u (kittyandco)

AAAAAA thank you Kitty!!!!!! (I sent you one for Anakin but didn’t sign it, I hope tumblr didn’t eat it and that it’s a fun prompt!!!!) I picked Lucy for this one because i was in a Pokémon mood though you might not KNOW it because she doesn’t show up until almost three fourths of the way through the entire fic,,,

But again, tysm @kittyandco!!! ♡♡♡

~~~ The warehouse is cold. The ice shackles that have you pinned to the wall might be contributing to that, though.

“How’s this working out for you, cadet?” you hiss through chattering teeth, trying to ignore the burning of your wrists. “Baby’s first kidnapping? You know, I’ve done gym challenges tougher than this.” You sniff. “Do I get like, refreshments? To keep my blood sugar up?”

Your captor— the Ranger— is only half listening. “Lovely posturing,” he says, tapping away on a tablet. “You don’t seem frightened at all.”

You glance to the side, gritting your teeth at the sight of your frozen Pokémon. Wait it out, you tell yourself, wait for them to thaw. If it’s even warm enough in here for that to happen. “I didn’t know the Ranger Union was into kidnapping irrelevant Trainers these days.” You can’t feel your hands. “Not enough oil spills and poachers anymore? You’ve gotta go after harmless trespassers?”

The Ranger sighs dramatically, running a hand through his blue hair. He seems to be dyeing his roots a different shade, you notice. “You poor, poor, uninformed noob, hell-bent on distracting me from my work.” He shook his head before placing his chin in his hand. “Do you really still think I serve the Rangers?”

You had your suspicions, but the fear doesn’t feel any less like ice in your gut. “Damn,” you laugh, though it’s more of a wheeze. “Are they just handing Stylers out to anyone these days? You know, I had a friend who failed the Ranger School’s entrance exam three times, even though she was just enrolling to be a M—“

“Yes, yes, I’m sure she did,” your captor replies, once again focused on his tablet. “Yet I, myself, as I’m sure you could guess, had no trouble disguising myself and slipping amongst the next generation of those who were once my foes.” Something on the screen catches his attention, the blue light illuminating the pinch of his eyebrows. “And waiting for the perfect assignment? Simple. Child’s play, really,” he said, as though that last part was a joke. “Just far enough from the Almia region, from my past mistakes—“

He smiles ruefully. “Ah, but the best-laid schemes, hmm? You—“ Suddenly— or maybe it seems sudden only to you, in your shivering, sleepy stupor— he launches himself forward, gripping your red face with cold fingers, “—and your little reporter girlfriend,” he continued, the face that was so calm just moments ago twisting into a snarl, “stumbled head-first into my embryonic plans, haven’t you?”

Your whole body seizes, your arms wrenching against the ice shackles. His hand squeezes tighter, for just a moment, and then he releases, leaning back placidly. “And I can’t have that happen just yet,” he finishes. “Not before I’ve even started.”

You feel something dripping down your arm. Water from melting ice shackles? Just blood? Hopefully the former. Probably the latter. “Who even are you?”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “A good question. It’s not a name I’ve been called in years, but...” He steeples his fingers. “My name is Ice. Pleasure to meet you.”

When you don’t react, he purses his lips. “What?” He asks, delivering the joke straight. “Did you want a handshake?” His eyes flick above your head to where your wrists are still encased in ice. “Or maybe you’d like to be reacquainted with my friend, Froslass?”

Even as cold as it is, you can feel your heartbeat quicken as the Froslass drifts into sight at its Ranger’s request, its eyes hauntingly intelligent. With it, it brings a cold front of pure menace, frost actually crystallizing on the ground below it.

Your eyes dart back to your own frozen Pokémon despite yourself. “Isn’t there some kind of rule about Rangers removing Pokémon from their original environments?” you ask half-heartedly, wondering if this was a case of nominative determinism or if Ice chose his name to fit his aesthetic.

He held a finger up to his mouth. “Oops. Don’t tell my base leader.”

Trying to clench your hands just to see if you still could, you press your head back against the wall and focus on watching your breath as it billows in front of you. “So what now? You’ve caught your meddling Trainer. What’s your plan for me now?” You try for cocky. “Kill me?”

“Yeah, that’s about it.” He nods, smiling as though laughing at you for expecting anything different. “Scare the Stevens kid into silence because people would miss her if she were dead, kill you because nobody blinks when a Trainer skips town in the middle of the night, and...” He rubs his chin. “Probably request reassignment. Maybe lay low in Fiore for a while.”

“Terrible plan,” you shiver, “for a number of reasons.” You wince as you swallow. “She’s not even here anymore. She’s gone.”

Ice’s eyes light up. He bites his lip. “You can’t possibly know that for sure,” he baits, his voice low. “What would you be willing to bet on that?”

But you’ve bluffed enough times in your life to know what it looks like. “She’s gone,” you say, summoning the last dregs of your chest voice as you feel the air grow colder still.

“Hmm.” He taps his chin. “You’re scared of that, aren’t you?”

“What?” You make a face. “Is this the— the psychoanalysis portion of the hostage situation? I have abandonment issues now?”

“No, no, don’t misunderstand. Not that she’d leave you—“ he leans in closer still. “That she’d love you enough to stay, despite the consequences. That’s what frightens you most, isn’t it? That she’ll be back?”

Your teeth chatter. You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Trainer, but I know how this plays out. Your love will come looking for you, and she will promise anything for your safety, and her love for you will lead her to harm, just as you fear.” He waves his hand. “But I, having learned from the mistakes of my past colleagues, will lead her to believe that she has achieved her goal without ever providing, while going to the appropriate extent to ensure that I achieve her silence. You will die, she will suffer, and I,” he sighs, “will purchase a boat ticket.”

Even with your knees pulled into your chest, the cold has seeped into your every square inch, saturating your body. You can’t think. You shake your head, trying to shake something free.

He smiles. “Baby’s first hostage, hm? Darling, you think this is the first time I’ve held a hostage? Between the two of us—“ he pats your cheek. “There’s only one noob in this room, and I’m looking at them.”

You hang your head, wheezing with bitter laughter. “Holy shit, I cannot handle the tonal whiplash of you using the word noob immediately after threatening to kill me.”

“Hang on.” You can tell by his voice that he’s trying to play a joke straight again. “Is there something wrong with the term? Is it outdated? Am I pronouncing it wrong?”

You can’t tell if you’re laughing still or just shivering really badly. “Arceus, just kill me and get it over with already.”

“So soon?” Froslass floats over. “If you insist, we can at least workshop a couple methods.”

You don’t say anything. It doesn’t feel necessary at this point.

“As a veteran Trainer, you have more than a passing knowledge of a myriad of Pokémon abilities and moves, yeah?” His hand on his Styler, Ice gestures Froslass over. “Tell me, then, what does the move Sheer Cold do?”

“Usually?” you ask, your voice hoarse but giddy. “Misses its target.”

Ice regards you and your exhausted but shit-eating grin for a while. “I once considered myself a pacifist,” he tells you. “I don’t lie to myself like that anymore.”

He lets that sink in for a moment, and you half expect him to hit you. Instead, he unsheathes his Styler and turns away from you entirely. “Froslass,” he says, walking away from you as the ghost draws closer, “take care of it.”

Any last words you might have come up with would have been drowned out by the minor explosion of cement and insulation. You flinch away from the destroyed portion of the wall, debris raining around you. With your hands still suspended above your head, you’ve got nothing left to do but pray. And cough. You cough a lot.

“Psyduck!” a voice shouts. “There!”

Through squinting, dust-filled eyes, you see the air shimmer and bend, warping reality in a beam towards Ice. He flies backwards, slamming hard into a shelf of boxes. When he crumples to the ground, he doesn’t get up.

Froslass, its icy hand just inches away from the soft of your neck, blinks, equally shocked about this turn of events. After a brief moment, it raises a hand in farewell and flees into the night, paying your rescuers no mind.

Your rescuers. “Lucy,” you croak, blinking through tears and dust.

“Emerson,” she breathes, rushing to your side. “I’m so sorry we took so long, I— oh, Em, baby, your wrists—“

“I—“ You cough, the combination of the dust and to cold proving too much for your lungs. “Ice Heals, in my bag. Please.”

“Of course.” Awkwardly, she fumbles with the zipper on the backpack that you’re still wearing, crushed between your back and the wall. You try to make it easier for her. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital, we’re gonna— your Pokémon, do you think—“

“Do them next,” you say. “If I don’t have enough Ice Heals, I have Full Heals. Or—“ You cough again, trying to tuck your face into your chest out of politeness. “Full Restores, or something. I’ve got something.”

When she sprays the ice shackles on your wrists, you can feel the tingling before you regain the sensation of actually having hands. Then, it starts to hurt. You feel dizzy.

“Easy, easy,” Lucy steadies you. “Don’t try to stand up yet.”

But you do try to wobble onto your feet and, failing that, try to crawl to your Blaziken where it stands, frozen in the middle of an attack. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of the damage done to your wrists. Yikes. You fall to your elbows, hard.

“Em, please.” Lucy sounds close to tears as she gingerly helps you upright. “Please, just hold on. It’s gonna be okay.” Psyduck, still very anxious about the whole situation, waddles over, searching for comfort.

You and me both, buddy, you think, leaning to rest your head in the crook of Lucy’s shoulder. When she wraps her arms around you, you can feel an hour’s worth of lost warmth returning to your body in seconds. Overwhelmed, you sob against her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve got you,” she whispers, kissing your hair and rubbing your back as Psyduck leans its head against the two of you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

[jaehyeonsgf]

hi!! Can u do jaehyun angst from prompt list no.10 & 27 🥺 Thank u very much 💚

10 : that was a lie and everyone knew it

27 : say it out loud

a/n : i hope you enjoy it! i really enjoyed writing this one! (also i’m writing this as i’m running late for my exam dhakjhekrhe)

[ view prompt list here ]

-

When your word fell apart, it did so silently and with ignorance.

It’s nothing like how movies portray them to be. There’s no loud wailing, there’s no desperate self-preservation and there’s no impending doom. Just silence, a few nods and the taste of iron in your mouth.

“Okay,” your voice falters and you cough, trying to steady your voice, not wanting any weaknesses reveal itself. You grip your thighs tighter, letting the pain of your nails digging into your flesh distract from the ache in your chest. “Let’s break up.”

On the train home, you see a boy typing something on his phone. You didn’t mean to look at his phone, but he was sitting beside you and it caught your attention. There’s a string of 0s and 1s dancing across his screen and you immediately recognised it as binary code. The ache in your heart tightens. It means nothing.

Back in your university days, Jaehyun would surprise you by littering random notes all around. From your textbooks, your dorm’s fridge to the bulletin board that hung in front of your bed. It’s his way of leaving small touches in your life, reminding you of him even when he’s not around you. Of course, he never writes it in languages that you understood. The sadistic string within him would write it in Greek, Chinese, Japanese even in Russian once. You’d spend the whole morning decoding it. Some days his message is short and sweet, decoded it would say ‘I love you’. Other days, his message is long-winded but still sweet.

But when you woke up to a string of 0s and 1s written on a post-it note, you thought that he had officially gone crazy.

You later learn that the random and seemingly arbitrary arrangement of 0s and 1s is called binary code. And out of all the languages he used, this became your favourite. It’s a language that both you, a business major, and Jaehyun, a literature major, could understand. A halfway point between your differences.

The next few weeks come and go in a blur. You bury yourself in work and more work. You barely have the time to breath. For a while, you’re stuck in a routine of work, coffee break, more work until it’s 2 in the morning and you remember that you’ll have to wake up at 7 the next morning so you try to go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Some nights are better than others. There are a handful of nights when your head hits the pillow and you drift into sleep immediately. But most nights are spent tossing and turning in your bed, that seems a little bigger and a little colder now. You’ll let the ticks of the clock lull you to sleep and in the rare events that you do manage to catch some rest, you’d jolt up an hour or two later, panting and crying.

You don’t even realise that your 26th birthday is coming up until the day before when you receive a text from Starbucks, wishing you a happy birthday with a free drink. Suddenly, you feel the loneliness overwhelm you and you let a tear spill out of one eye. The next comes and they just keep on falling out. For the first time in a while, you don’t touch your laptop for the night and just sit in the living room alone and crying.

Your daily routine of burying yourself in work and sleepless nights numbed you to the core. You detach yourself from everything, friends, family, emotions. Everything. Your phone lights up beside you and you see a text from Taeyong, your best friend. Then another from your mom. You stare at it for a little while longer. But when you don’t see Jaehyun’s name flash across, you feel a surge of pain through your body. You turn your phone over and rest your head against the cream leather of your sofa.

It’s 12 midnight. It’s the day of your birthday. It’s the first time you’ve spent your birthday alone in eight years – ever since Jaehyun came into your life – and you’re not sure what to do.

It becomes a tradition the third consecutive year you spend your birthday with Jaehyun. It starts with a ‘happy birthday!’ text from him at 12 midnight sharp. You’d always stay up to see it, even if it meant forcing yourself by pinching yourself. Then when you get ready to leave the house in the morning, you’d see the gifts on your doorstep. There are variations in them from year-to-year but for the most part, it remains the same. The flowers change every year, but it’s always there. The first year was, as cliché as it is, roses. The next was carnation. The year after was lilac. Then sunflower, jasmine, forget-me-not, white dittany and angelica. You remember every single one because Jaehyun is the only man to have given you flowers. And also because he’d tell you what each one mean and it’d overwhelms you with happiness you never thought were possible. Without fail, there’ll be a letter too. Jaehyun is a fan of poetry and would write the most beautiful literature for you. He even wrote Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 for you one year. In his letters, he doesn’t hold back on his compliments, praises and expression of love. Then there were miscellaneous gifts – they were the gifts of what you’ve once said you wanted or something that you were obsessed with at that time.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re gifted with sore neck and legs from the weird posture you slept in and stinging swollen eyes. The swelling doesn’t subside by the time you leave the house so you cover your eyebags with more concealer than usual. You open your door and, for some weird reason – perhaps habit -, you find yourself looking down at the doorstep. You’re greeted by a dead leave and you crush it on your way out.

After work, you find yourself heading to Taeyong’s house.

When you replied to his birthday wishes, he had invited you for a little catch up with a few other university friends. You had half a mind to reject him using the excuse of work because you don’t want the possibility of hearing about Jaehyun. After all, they were friends with Jaehyun too. But he sends you ‘jaehyun won’t be there. i swear. just come. i’ve missed you. we all have.’ when you don’t reply fast enough. You realise that Jaehyun probably told them what happened. He texts you another ‘pleeeease?’, you finally cave and promise to be there.

You forgot how long it has been since you’ve met up with them until you see that they are all rocking different hairstyles and hair colours since the last meet up. Taeyong’s red hair has been replaced by an ash-brown colour. Mark’s previously black hair changes subtly to a light shade of brown. Yuta’s hair has grown out and he has it in a man-bun.

“Do y’all just really like going to the salon or what?” You chuckle, taking off your shoes and following after Taeyong into the apartment.

The other 3 guys stand up from the couch and each takes turn to engulf you in a warm hug. You exchange pleasantries with all of them, answering the typical how have you been by lying through a smile when you tell them life’s good.

They catch you up on a few things in their lives. You learn that Yuta is now a model, Mark’s pursuing his masters in Literature and Taeyong and Ten have opened up a dance studio and are dance instructors. They learn that you’re working at a bigshot accounting firm.

They are careful to not bring up Jaehyun’s name through it all.

When the commotion settles, you find yourself sitting at the dining table with them.

“So, how’s life man?” Taeyong asks as you lift the mug to your lips. “You’re so busy nowadays.”

You just shrug. There’s no possible way of truthfully answering the question without breaking down of them and you refuse to break down in front friends that you haven’t seen in almost a year. Besides, you’d prefer to pretend the uglier sides of your life doesn’t exist.

“It’s been… okay,” you play with the rim of the mug, “Tiring I guess.” You give him a sheepish smile and pray that he’ll leave it at that.

But they don’t. “Even after the… um… breakup?”

Taeyong’s bluntness catches you off-guard and you freeze just for a second. You force yourself to not recall the afternoon when the break up happened five months ago. Or the eight years that you’ve spent with him.

Instead, you reply with a practiced answer. “It’s tough at first. You know, especially because we’ve been together for like, what, eight years? But I’m… I’m okay.”

That was a lie and everyone knew it. You see the glance that Mark gives Taeyong. The way Ten rakes a hand through his hair. The way Yuta shifts uncomfortably.

“I’m… really fine, you all don’t have to worry about me,” you assure.

There’s an awkward silence that hangs in the air and even you’re not sure what to do or say.

“No like really?” Mark finally breaks the silence. “Because from the looks of it, you look… terrible.”

You wonder what gave it away. Was it how your clothes hang looser on you? Or the way that, by this time of day, the concealer laid on your skin? Or was it the way you still played with your fourth finger, as if the promise ring was still there?

“We’re all ears and we won’t snitch,” Ten adds when you don’t reply. He reaches over and rests a hand on your wrist, “Tell us what’s going on.”

“…It’s just,” You take a deep breath. “I’ve been so… in love with him and I still am.” There’s a tension that is released from your chest from finally allowing yourself to admit it. You’ve missed him and you’re still in love with him. You didn’t realise the extent of these emotions because you’ve been in constant motion but now, they hit you full force and you’re sure that not even for a moment did you stop loving or missing Jaehyun. You’re not sure if that’s good or bad thing but you continue.

“And I thought- I really thought that, that we’d get married, you know. I thought he was the one. I don’t know where it went wrong or what I did wrong.”

When Jaehyun left, it felt like half of you left with him. There’s not even a Jaehyun-shaped hole in your heart. No, the moment you stood up and left the café, half of you was left in it. The downfall of your relationship lasted a whole year. It took a whole year before Jaehyun plucked up the courage to break things off with you.

It started with a promise.

It was a quiet Sunday morning. The both of you were awake but none of you wanted to leave the warmth of your bed. He had sat up, back against the headboard and had one hand holding a book whilst the other played with your hair.

Then he reached into the nightstand’s drawer and pulled out a small transparent pouch holding two silver bands.

“What’s this? Are you proposing to me?” You chuckled, eyes meeting with his.

He was always a romantic and you wouldn’t be surprised.

“No,” his voice still thick with sleep, “but I want this to… to represent my promise to you.”

“What promise?”

“That you’re mine. And I’m yours. Forever.”

You laughed. “That sounds exactly like a proposal, you know that right?”

His cheeks flushed pink.

It’s times like this that you’re reminded of how simple-minded Jaehyun was. He wasn’t the type to think too much. Rather, he acted irrationally at times, doing things because he wanted to. You take the pouch out of his hand and take one ring out. It’s a simple metal band, nothing extravagant. On the inner ring, it had his name branded on to it. The other ring had yours.

“I-I got it from the gift shop on the way home,” he said.

He saw your soft gaze on the ring and knew that you’d love it. It made his chest swell with pride.

“What do you think of it?” he took the ring out of your hand and slip it on your fourth finger. He took your hand and kissed the spot above the ring.

“I love it!”

Mark gives you a sad smile. “You know, he’s… well, he’s himself, he’s Jaehyun. There’s a logic there than none of us can begin to understand. Don’t torture yourself by thinking too much.”

But I’ve knew him the best. Your heart boasts. You thought that if anyone were to understand anything Jaehyun does, it’d be you. But then he goes and do this kind of shit that causes you to doubt your position in his heart. Not that you have one anymore.

“Have you spoken to him since?” Yuta asks.

“Well, no,” you take a deep breath, “But I mean… He wouldn’t want me to remain in his life after all of our history and-“Another deep breath. “It’s better than way, no?”

They exchange a glance.

“Has he at least given you a reason?”

You look at Mark and shake your head. Even if he had, you didn’t hear it. The shock had overwhelmed you to the point that your ears were ringing.

“Then it’s only fair if he did, right? He’s not one to not understand that,” Mark says with a comforting smile.

The rest of the night carried a less serious tone to it. You talk. They listen. They talk. You listen. You watch a horror movie with them – a sort of tradition started since you befriended them in university. You laugh at how jumpy they are. When Mark starts yelling from the toilet saying that he swears he saw something in the mirror after the movie, the rest of you spend the reminder of the night clowning him.

That night, as you lay your head against your pillow, you smile – one that is out of genuine happiness. You’re grateful for friends like them, who are there regardless of circumstances. Hanging out with them brought endless amounts of joy into your heart. And you feel your heart beginning to mend back together until your phone lights up from a text.

You turn to your phone and the message completely shatters your heart. The few hours of work that your friends did completely undone in a second.

‘happy birthday, i hope you’ve enjoyed yourself today.’

It’s from Jaehyun. You realised you still haven’t changed his contact name from ‘my future hubby’ to something else. The text is the first text that you’ve received from him since the day in the café. Your finger hovers above the screen as you think of a suitable reply. But you’re unable, so you flip your phone over and turn away from your phone. You drift to sleep with a single thought in your mind.

He still remembers my birthday. Maybe he’s still in love with me.

The thought stays with you when you wake up in the morning. Maybe he misses me. Maybe he wants me back. Maybe he didn’t mean his words. Maybes will be how you meet your demise. The way five months’ worth of supressed emotions hit you like a wave and doesn’t stop there. It swells and hits you harder with each maybe.

You’re barely able to keep up at work, without letting your thought stray to him and you wonder how you were able to do it just a day ago. You think back on Mark’s words and decide that you’re ready. You’re ready to meet him. You’re ready to get closure.

When you lay eyes on Jaehyun, the first time in five months, your heart swells and your prepared speeches fly out of the window because you’re rendered speechless. The dim café lights don’t hide his dashing good looks and you see his familiar double-lidded eyes. They’re tired and you wish that maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s been missing you too.

“Hello,” you say settling into the seat in front of him

“Hey,” he gives you a small polite smile, “You wanted to talk?”

You nod. “Uh, yeah. I just- Um. How are you?” Your words are awkwardly strung together because you’re nervous, so goddamn nervous.

“Seriously?” he chuckles, lifting a cup to his lips. You glance at it and guessed that it’s black coffee. Plain, black, just how it likes it. “Well, I’m doing, as well as a person who’s just lost their first love can do.”

His words are dripping in sadness and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It catches your eyes.

“What about you?”

You don’t know if you should answer honestly. Would it come off as too attention seeking?

“I’m- I’m not doing too well. Have been getting night terrors.”

“Again?”

You smile sadly. You don’t say that this time, it’s because of him.

You remember how when your father first passes away in university and you started getting night terrors, it’s Jaehyun’s warm arms that calmed you down. His thumb gazed your cheeks, wiping away your tears and he whispers softly It’s okay and I’m here now.

“So I guess that’s why you look so… tired.” He reaches across the table with his thumb. It gazes your cheek and his familiar touch causes you to flinch.

“I’m sorry, habits.” He retreats his hand.

“It’s okay. Anyways, I haven’t been doing too well because-“ the words are stuck in your throat and you don’t want to admit them. You take a deep breath. Jaehyun waits. He’s patient.

“Because I can’t get our breakup out of my head.” You admit to both yourself and him.

The tears that you’ve swallowed for the past few months wells up in your eyes and it spills, continuously. Between choked sobs and sniffling, you tell him that you’ve missed him.

He reaches over and this time you don’t flinch. You let him wipe the tears away.

“Tell me how to make it better. Say it out loud.” He says.

“Please, don’t leave me alone.” You tell him and you speak from your heart.

He goes over to your seat and hugs you. He mumbles soft apologies and even let a few tears drop. When you’ve stop crying and he’s walking you back home, he surprises you by telling you why he broke up with you and it isn’t because he fell out of love with you. Rather, he simply thought that you deserved better than him. He tells you how he misses you, how he craves for your attention. There’re nights when in a drunk fervour, he almost calls you.

That night, the both of you just talk. Work through the relationship – his insecurities and your dependence on him. But you don’t get back together. At least not immediately. It’s too soon.

But the both of you aren’t in any rush, so you take your time with the relationship, cherishing each step of the way with him.

[luxurylives]

Missing Pieces Part 3

Missing Pieces Part 3

Pairing: Logan x Vanessa Kingsley

Book(s): Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance

Word Count: 2,000+

Rating: PG

Summary: Logan and Vanessa travel to the east coast. 

Author’s Note: The third part to Missing Pieces is here. If some names are unfamiliar, the characters are from Hollywood U and/or High School Story. Pixelberry Studios own the characters.

 Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @client-327

Vanessa stared out the window trying to process everything that had happened the past few days. First, she reunited with her old friend Chelsea McIntyre, second, they met two attractive strangers for a night out, third it turns both of them came with baggage, and fourth she was now traveling across the country with one of them so he can seek the proper care he needs. Anyone else would have run for the hills, however, she stayed by his side, and she could not fathom what motivated her to do so. Vanessa glanced at her phone and turned to Logan who was asleep and listening to music. Chelsea’s words kept coming back to her and she had to admit there was a small part of her that knew she was right; however, Chelsea didn’t have a stellar history with men either. Vanessa’s eyes traveled to Logan’s phone which was sitting in front of him. The screen lit up with an incoming message.

“If I could just…” she whispered to herself and slowly reached over to tap the screen.

“How are you doing today?”

Vanessa felt every hair on her body stand up and reeled her hand back. She turned to the train conductor smiling innocently. Logan opened his eyes and also turned to him.

“We’re fine, smooth ride so far” Vanessa answered cheerfully.

“Wonderful, we’ll be arriving in Birchport, Massachusetts soon” the conductor gave each of them a smile and proceeded to check in with the other passengers.

“Thanks again for doing this Vanessa, I don’t think I could have done this alone”.

Vanessa placed her hand on his thigh and smiled. “Don’t mention it”.

“You said your grandparents live in Birchport?”

“They do…but they’re in Turtle Bay for the summer” Vanessa said. “I wish they didn’t go…we could have stayed with them”.

“Do you think they would be okay with you visiting unannounced and bringing a guy over?”

Vanessa laughed and shook her head, she knew if that happened, they would immediately assume the worse and call her parents. “Well, when you put it that way probably not”.

“I read that there is a bed and breakfast in town that is pretty good, hopefully, we can stay there”.

“We still have to get to Boston too and get you checked into the rehab center” Vanessa said and began stretching her arms. “I can’t believe BeeTrak didn’t have any direct routes from California to Massachusetts”.

“Yea…” Logan’s voice trailed off for a minute, remembering the lie he told Vanessa. She was under the impression that his family knew he was coming and we’re going to get him checked in to this rehab center in Boston. “I was thinking we could catch a bus from Birchport to Boston…or we could try to get a rental car?”

Vanessa thought for a moment and then remembered the car her grandparents had at their house. “Maybe we can drive…we could borrow my grandfather’s car”.

“Hold on…I thought you said they were out of town?”

“I have a key” Vanessa replied. “We’ll stay the night and rest, head to their place in the morning, take the car, and we’re off to Boston”.

Logan smiled, that sound exactly like something that Ellie would have done. His thoughts drifted to the day they came up with the plan to take down the Brotherhood. Ellie’s quick thinking saved the Mercy Park Crew. Logan sighed, wondering where Ellie was now and if she thought about him.

“Hey space cadet, are you there?”

Logan turned back to Vanessa and playfully bumped her shoulder. “Definitely” he leaned in planting a kiss to her cheek.

 Once the train reached the station in Birchport, Logan and Vanessa arranged for a taxi to drop them off at the bed and breakfast. After a while, they arrived at a quaint, picturesque canary home with a wrap-around porch with various shrubs and flowers planted at the bottom. Once the taxi parked, Logan and Vanessa paid the driver and got their bags out of the trunk.

“Nice place” Logan said.

“I’ve actually been here before…looks different” Vanessa scoped the property. She remembered her parents brought her here years ago when she graduated high school. They rented out most of the rooms and had a family gathering. Now, it was almost unrecognizable with the new exterior.

“Hopefully they have some space” Logan said as he reached the stairs and opened the door. Vanessa entered first with Logan following close behind. Once inside, they saw a man seated at a desk reading.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the man stood up and set his book down.  

“We were hoping you had some rooms available? Just for one night” Logan said.

“Let me check” the man began typing away at the computer. “Room 104 upstairs is available”.

“Does it have separate bedrooms?”

“It does not…”

Logan exchanged a look with Vanessa who shrugged.

“I guess we can take it” Vanessa said.

Logan reached into his back pocket for his wallet and started to pull out some bills. Vanessa got her purse out and placed a hand over his. “I’ll cover it, you got us the train tickets”.

Once they paid, the man handed them their keys. “Alright, I hope you enjoy your stay, my name is Cesar De La Cruz. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask me or my wife, Althea…”. Shortly a woman joined them from the kitchen wearing an apron and smiled politely at Logan and Vanessa.

“I heard my name? Oh! Guests! Hi, welcome to Birchport” Althea shook hands with them and smiled warmly.

“Thank you, we’re going to get these upstairs” Logan grabbed the bags and headed up the stairs. With Vanessa following close behind.

 That night Logan sat in the small living room going over what he had and what his foster parents told him about his family. At least he had two addresses—the hospital and home. She could be at either and possibly with more of his relatives. While he browsed a few more articles he found online about his mother, he noticed Vanessa through the bedroom door which was slightly ajar. Logan looked up, a towel was wrapped around her waist, tight enough to highlight each curve of her frame. Logan swallowed as his eyes drifted lower, the door closed in his face. Logan blinked and looked back at his laptop running his hands through his hair as the blow dryer blared from the other side of the door. After a few moments, Vanessa walked out of the bedroom wearing a short silk white robe, fur slides, and her hair tied into a bun. Logan quietly cleared his throat, trying not to look.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you” Vanessa said.

“About what?” Logan closed the lid to his laptop, giving Vanessa his undivided attention.

“I’ve been thinking…and I want you to be completely, utterly, honest with me”.

Logan felt his heart beating double time. She was on his case—again.

“Marco, Chelsea had told me some things about Javier…he had a picture of some cars and she found a gun..”.

“Cars? Gun?”

“A Devore GT and a Yottsume Halberdier”.

Logan stared at Vanessa blankly, he could feel each gear in his brain turning, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Why would he have pictures of his car? And not just his car—Mona’s car as well. How well did he know Javier? They worked together and hung out occasionally. Logan tried to remember the times they hung out—nothing suspicious came to mind. However, it started to sink in that Logan didn’t really know him that well. “What else did Chelsea say?” Logan asked calmly.

Vanessa shook her and pulled her legs towards her and looked down at the floor. “Nothing, but can you just tell me what is really going on? I cannot deal with being…”.

“Being what?”

Vanessa blinked back her tears and shook her head. “Being used”.

Logan stared at her, noticing the amount hurt and pain washing over her. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs to talk right now”.

Vanessa looked up at him, a tear sliding down her cheek. Logan moved closer to her and wiped the tear away with his thumb.

“Vanessa, talk to me”.

Vanessa shook her head, hesitating but felt Logan’s touch as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “It started last summer…well a little before that”.

“What happened?”

“James Ashton happened” Vanessa answered. “I had a crush on him for years, we grew up together in Northbridge, our families did business together, ran in the same circles…”.

“What went wrong?”

“James told me he didn’t feel the same way and then fast forward to last summer we ended up sleeping together”.

“Did you date?”

“No…little did I know he was cheating on his girlfriend at the time with me”.

“Vanessa…” Logan frowned and gently rubbed her shoulder.

“I also met Shae and Nikki that same summer, I thought they were my friends but all they did was stab me in the back. They got me drunk and posted pictures and a story on FaceSpace of me stripping in a bar and streaking on the beach” Vanessa turned away from Logan and wiped her eyes.

“What happened?”

“I mean they took it down, but the damage was already done, I lost my internship with the company my Dad had partnered with and soon after they parted ways and it's just been…a mess ever since”.  

“Why did they do it?”

“Their parents worked for my father a while back and he…he had made some bad business dealings and caused their parents to lose their jobs…I guess they targeted me to get back at him”.

Logan rubbed her shoulder as Vanessa began to cry softly. A small part of him felt for her, especially with the way he was stringing her along. “Vanessa, look at me,” Logan said and gently placed his palm on her cheek.

Vanessa turned to look at him, leaning into his warm touch, his deep brown eyes staring back at her.

“You don’t worry about me hurting you”.

A small smile appeared on Vanessa’s face. Logan wiped her tears away and pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “I don’t want to see you cry either”.

“Thank you” Vanessa said. She placed her hand atop of his, her heart racing.

Logan smiled and pulled her closer to him and hugged her tightly. As they separated, Vanessa rested her head on his shoulder and Logan put his arm around her. After a while, they drifted off to sleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeat.

 Logan woke up early the next morning to the distant sound of his phone vibrating. Vanessa was still snuggled up against him and the sun was rising in Birchport. Logan quietly separated himself from her and tip-toed over to his phone. “Hello?”

“Hey! How’s it going?”

“Tell him I said hi”

Logan lowered the phone staring at the number, not recognizing it. “Who is this?”

Laughter arose on the other end of the line. “Logan, it’s me, Ximena, and Toby is here too”.

Logan felt his heart stop and relief washed over him. “Sorry, I didn’t…it’s been a while”.

“Damn right! Put him on speaker!” Toby called from the background.

Logan lowered the volume and crept into the bedroom and sat on the bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Ximena and Toby, it had been months.

“How did you guys track me down?”

“Well, that is part of the reason we are calling…she’s here”.

Logan felt his heart stop and every hair on his body standing. “Wait…are you…”.

There was silence on the other end of the line and then a soft, innocent voice spoke. “Hey, Logan”.

Logan nearly dropped the phone and ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe it, after all this time…it was her. He felt his eyes watering and his heart racing, once he calmed down, he spoke, “Hey Troublemaker”.

[fromstraykids]

thank u, next

characters: you x jisung

summary: in which you learn that love sucks; angst; 2.8k

a/n: yes, i was inspired by ariana grande’s new song and uh I'm trying to be more active (trust me i have like 15 wips that are literally almost done) and the semester ends in 3 weeks so hopefully after december i will be more active!! but for now, pls enjoy this !!

You never had luck with boyfriends.

Your first boyfriend was in your third year of middle school. It was what they called ‘cuffing season’ and you felt obligated to have someone to hold hands with through the halls as you walked to your classes. His name was Yang Jeongin, your classmate since kindergarten, and frankly, you did have a little crush on him in fifth grade. It was the spring formal and he had shyly tapped your shoulder during the lunch break. With a quiet voice and fidgeting hands, he had asked you out. This was your first confession. You said yes and dated him for seven months. Every day, he would meet you at your locker with a bright smile that showed his metal braces and walked you to and from classes without fail. He was the first guy you have ever hugged…and the first guy you’ve ever kissed. It was Valentine’s Day (cliche? yes.) and you had met him at your locker as usual as he hands you a pretty arrangement of roses before pulling you into a tight hug. As he pulled away, he leaned forward once again before hesitantly placing his lips on yours. You didn’t say anything besides smiling and letting him walk you to your class. The first time you’ve initiated a kiss was when you kissed him on the cheek before going into your first period. It was the first time you’ve ever felt so energized, you were no longer a shadow, you had someone to be your light. But, that light dimmed. As the next year started, you and Jeongin fell out. He started talking to older girls and made new friends. You could say that it was mutual, but the week of crying said differently. And that was how you’ve experienced your first heartbreak at the ripe age of 13.

Your second heartbreak was only a few months later. It was Jeongin’s best friend, Seungmin, that approached you a week after Jeongin had broken up with you. After a few months of talking, you began to have feelings for Seungmin and vice versa. You didn’t know what came over your head when you started to date Seungmin. Was it to make Jeongin jealous? It could’ve been possible. You would always drift your eyes over to Jeongin whenever you entered the cafeteria with interlocked hands, hoping that he would look over and ask you to be his again. But that never happened. The breakup happened a few months later, but this time, you were the heartbreaker. Maybe if you hadn’t been with Jeongin beforehand, you would have been completely infatuated with Seungmin, but life had different plans in mind. 

Your third heartbreak was in your second year of high school. He was a new student from Australia and to be fair, everybody had a crush on him and you were no different. His name was Felix and he would sit next to you in literature class and make conversations with you to make the hour-long class less boring. Compared to your last few crushes, this one felt genuine and not rushed. Sometimes you’d catch yourself thinking about how it would be like if you two were a couple, how it would feel to have his hands entwined with you, how it would feel to be pressed against his chest when you’re hugging him. Slowly, your crush on him grew until you would literally have heart eyes when you saw him. You loved the way his face was dotted with light freckles that would glow whenever his lips curved up into a bright smile when he talks to you. You thought that he was the one for you. Until he got a girlfriend that is. You found out when you were walking to class one day and in the corner of your eye, you saw the two untwining their hands before hugging. It was later confirmed that they were, indeed, dating. Although he would never find out, you felt your heart break into two pieces and called yourself stupid for being so infatuated with someone that you would never have a chance with.

Your fourth heartbreak was in your last year of high school. You were a tutor and he was a flunking student, what could go wrong there? Not to mention, he was the bad boy of the school, it was amazing to even be in the same room as him and never in your life would you have imagined yourself even talking to him. His name was Hyunjin. He adorned a metal lip ring on the bottom of his full lips and always had his tie loosened in school. You found his presence nice; for once, you were not worried about looking a specific way for someone and could vent to him and he would be there the whole way. But there was one thing you ignored: the fact that he was a heartbreaker. You began to date him after he pressed a soft kiss on your lips one day during tutoring. People didn’t expect it, why would they? It ended in two weeks–when you found him pressing another girl against a wall. You were tired of getting the short end of the stick in relationships and concluded that you would never ever find a guy that was fit for you.

It’s your first semester in college–a couple hundred miles away from your hometown meant that you could start a new life and meet new people. And with that, a certain someone stumbled into your life. Literally. 

“I’m so sorry!” you immediately said as you watched the lukewarm cup of coffee slip from your grip and onto the person in front of you. You froze in your spot as you watched the figure in front of you stop in his tracks to look at his now-stained shirt. It was a yellow DHL sweater that now had a brown spot in the center of it. 

He looks up and you felt your heart stop. Damn, he was good-looking, too. He smiles. “It’s cool, just watch where you’re going next time.” Without another word, he walks past you as you’re left wondering what had just happened.

The next time you saw him was an accident, much like the first time. The door of your dorm room opened, making you curse at your roommate for not locking it when she left. 

“Hey–Oh, this isn’t Chan’s room,” a familiar voice says, making you look up to see the brunet you stumbled upon a few days ago. “Wait, aren’t you the girl that spilled coffee on my shirt?”

Your cheeks flare up as you shut your laptop, making your eyes adjust to the dim lights. “Y-yeah. Sorry about that, did you get to clean it up?”

He nods. “Don’t worry, ink stains are even worse to get out, trust me, it’s fine.”

“But I feel so bad–”

“It’s fine,” he reassures again before a thought enters his head. “If you feel that bad, maybe, we can go meet up for coffee some day? I mean, granted, that you won’t spill it on me again.”

He chuckles as your cheeks flare up again. “I’m just kidding,” he says with a smile that showed his white teeth. His phone buzzes. “I would love to stay and chat, but my friend needs help with studying…”

You waved him off. “Do you want to meet at the campus coffee shop on Monday?”

“I would love that.” After hearing the door click shut, you placed your hand over your heart. The erratic beating did not stop, nor did you want it to.

-

You found out his name was Han Jisung and majored in literature, hence why he always had a pen and paper in his hands. “Ideas pop up in random places. Especially you’ve almost burned down your apartment because you were to focused on finishing a story about a Greek myth rather than cooking your ramen,” Jisung joked.

As much as he loved to write short stories, poetry was his forte. “There’s nothing better than putting vague sentences together hoping that it would make sense,” he says. 

He was funny, easygoing, and kind. It wasn’t hard for you to fall for him quickly.

-

It was the heart of winter and the day after finals. Jisung was slumped against your shoulder as the both of you watch a Christmas movie that was pirated on your laptop. He rests an arm around your waist as he shifts awake. 

“I fell asleep again,” Jisung pouts. It was always a habit of his to stay up at nights, typing up a story on his laptop. It was a common sight to see him with a cup of black coffee in his hands and to see his head down in the middle of lectures. 

“The movie wasn’t even that interesting anyway,” you said. “A boy doesn’t believe in Christmas and then meets Santa Claus to help save the very holiday he despised? So cliche.”

Jisung chuckles. “How else would you make a Christmas movie without Santa Claus?” He tilts his head as his eyes flutter up to look at yours, waiting for your answer. 

You contemplate his question. “I don’t know, focus on the elves? They’re pretty much the backbone of the whole Christmas industry if you’re asking me.”

“You’re not wrong. Who else can make toys for every child? Certainly, not Santa Claus,” Jisung says. The both of you chuckle before a wave of silence overcomes the both of you. 

“Hey, y/n,” Jisung speaks up. 

“Hm?” you hummed as you scroll through the lists of movies to watch. Jisung doesn’t reply, making you turn your head to his direction to see his eyes already set on your face. The light illuminating from your laptop casts an angelic glow on Jisung’s face. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

Your breath hitches as you attempt to form words. Jisung was faster. He sits up, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips as he presses softly against them. He tasted like a mixture of vanilla and coffee. 

The kiss ended as quickly as it started. His eyes widen as he realizes what he did. “I-I like y-you, y/n.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards as you smiled. “I like you, too, Jisung.”

A sigh of relief escapes his mouth. “That would’ve been awkward if you didn’t,” he chuckles before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

-

You never understood poetry, much to Jisung’s dismay. 

“But the symbolism!” he would exclaim before pulling out his favorite poem, Love’s Philosophy. 

“They’re using Middle English, how can you comprehend that?”

“First of all, it’s called Early Modern English, and second,” Jisung scoots closer to you, “I’ll show you.”

Jisung loved the concept of love; it intrigued him how an individual could express love through many different ways. It was simply endearing, love, to be so infatuated with a single person and to have someone complete you. There was nothing more genuine than love.

“…So you’re telling me that this whole poem was to ask for a kiss?” You raised an eyebrow before chuckling. “I think there’s another reason why you love this poem, and it’s not because of the symbolism.”

Jisung blushes before looking at you with an innocent face. “Hm?”

Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, darkening his already-red cheeks. “Why don’t you show me more poems?”

-

Jisung loved to write you poems. You would find a short poem on your nightstand, ready for you to read when you woke up. You would find them in your backpack, your car, your kitchen counter; name a place and Jisung would already have placed a poem there.

“Isn’t it hard to write so many poems in this short span of time?” you’d ask when you meet with him before class. 

He shakes his head. “No, because I’m always inspired. By you.”

“Are all poets this cheesy?” you teased. 

Jisung leans forward to press a kiss on your temple before going back to his seat. “Just let me love you.”

It wasn’t long before you would start making poems for Jisung.

-

Jisung’s life changed. His short story had won an international award and he was currently in the midst of producing a book. 

He became one with his computer, as you had said to him on multiple occasions before he would sheepishly smile and give you a quick peck on the lips before returning to work. 

But as the days progressed, you saw him less and all you wanted to do is to spend time with him.

“I got inspired for a chapter, so I have to make a raincheck on our date, okay babe?” 

“The publisher wants me to finish this section by tonight.”

“I would love to go to the event with you…but my book awaits me.”

You stood outside Jisung’s door for the nth time this month. You didn’t bother to knock, knowing that he was too immersed with his writing to notice a single sound. 

“Hey.”

The boy jumps up, taking off his headphones. “Fuc-Oh hey!” He relaxes when he sees that you were there, not some random killer or something. “What’s up?”

You sighed before looking at him. He forgot, again. “We had a date tonight,” you said in a quiet voice. 

His mouth forms an ‘o’ as he realizes his mistake. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes before glancing at his open laptop. “I need to write this chapter, so can we schedule another day?” He looks at you with pleading eyes and you could never say no to them.

“Of course. Your book matters more.” You smiled sadly at him before placing your hand over the doorknob. “I’ll text you tonight?”

He nods before shooting you a kiss in the air. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And of course, you meant it. You would do anything for Jisung. He was there for you when you were packed with class assignments, now you’re there for him when he’s writing his first book. Love prospers through the hardships.

Or so you thought.

-

He looked at you with melancholy eyes, standing at the doorway, fearing that if he went one step farther he would hurt you even more. 

You knew that face. You’ve seen that face one too many times to recognize it, but you brushed it off with a bright smile. “You look off today, what’s wrong?”

Jisung sighs, running a hand through his brown locks. You made the mistake of looking at his eyes. “y/n…”

“You’re breaking up with me…aren’t you?” you asked in a quiet voice. You looked down at your crossed legs on your made bed, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to stop the lump in your throat from climbing up. “I understand.”

You didn’t. You let your guard down as a stray tear fell onto your hand before you quickly wiped it away. Sniffling, you added, “Thanks for the memories, they were amazing.”

Jisung felt his heart break; break-ups were the hard part of every relationship. His hands fumbled with each other as he tried to think of something to say. “I’ve been so busy with my book, I think it’s unfair for you to be waiting for me when I’m so focused on my career. I never wanted to hurt you, y/n. I truly love you, and I can’t go further into this relationship when you’re putting all the effort and my mind is on different matters.

“I want you to find someone that will put as much love into you as you did into me,” he continued. “As much as I want to be that guy, I can’t. I’m sorry, y/n. I wish you the best of luck in the future.”

You watched as the door clicked shut softly and let your world come crashing down. Hiccups escaped from your throat as tears ran down your face and onto your sheets. 

You thought Jisung would be the one. You really believed that. But love worked differently.

It was cruel. Love only works when two people at a specific time become infatuated with each other, once one person falls out of line, love disappears. Love was only for the lucky, you were never lucky. 

Overcome with your emotions, you decided the best thing was to pour out your heart onto a piece of paper, titling it: 

thought i’d end up with jisung

-

You looked at the clock. It had been about three hours since Jisung left your room—and your life. The paper in front of you was riddled with crossed-out words, eraser marks, and dried up tear stains. 

Looking down, there was one space left. 

You were done with having to repair your broken heart only to have the bandaid tear off again. No more heartbreaks, you thought. 

With that, you wrote the last line,

thank u, next