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luvergirl-866 · 2 days ago

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something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Ryan?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Ryan isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

#azzi fudd #fake dating #paige buckets #paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics #the people's princess #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb

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luckykiwiii101 · 3 days ago

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AND WHO AM I?

(THE SELF CONCEPT GUIDE)

ィ⠀xoxo, gossip girl ࿐

Hey Upper East Siders.

Once upon a time, you told yourself that you have everything you want. Well I heard that your new state’s visit was short. And apparently not very sweet. But you know what is? Revenge. And it’s best served cold. Who’s hungry? I hope you are.

Outer self, or inner self? Choose your side, or run and hide. We have a feeling this one’s to the death. Well for the smart upper east siders who chose their inner self, this one’s for you. And for those who haven’t, failure must be the best policy in some zip codes, but not this one.

First things first, your mindset calls for a makeover! And if you didn’t know, on the upper east side, a makeover isn’t a facade! It’s the new you, until you decide to change, which I hope you don’t. Gossiping about your success and scandals are a lot more fun than your failures. And trust me, there were a lot - of those…

Now, ask yourself. What would Blair Waldorf do? If there’s one thing we know about Blair, it’s that she settles for nothing less than what she wants. When another bomb lands in B’s lap, she uses it as ammunition. But all you do is surrender and put down your arms. Talk about polar opposites! And you wonder why you still don’t have what you want.

✰ B’s PERFECT MINDSET! ✰

Here’s your new mindset. And it’s up for adoption. You don’t have the heart to leave a newborn baby hanging, do you? Exercise these new feelings through feeling ✰ THIS!

✰ I have everything I want

✰ I manifest so effortlessly & instantly

✰ Regardless of everything, I have everything I want

✰ I’m doing everything right

✰ Nothing can ruin my manifestations because I already have them.

Tattoo these rules in your mind. They are part of your new identity. You are going to be the walking embodiment of these.

✰ YOUR ROUTINE ✰

You will now apply these rules to the newly updated November challenge. ✰ CLICK HERE

NOTE: Don’t assume that without a perfect routine, you won’t get what you want. Regardless of EVERYTHING, you ALREADY have all your desires!!! Absolutely nothing can stop you!

P.S. Never stop until you are completely satisfied in imagination!

And Who Am I? That’s one secret i’ll never tell. The only one. You know you love me. XOXO

- gossip girl

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zorilleerrant · 1 day ago

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Oh, this is so fun! It's a remarkably finicky challenge. How about a zombie apocalypse story for the collection?

Eric isn’t sitting in his seat when you get back to base. You didn’t expect him to, really – you don’t expect anyone to sit there, anymore, no matter how recently you’ve seen them. You don’t sit and pretend with your cup of coffee, this time, that someone will be by soon enough to chat. You don’t make a cup at all.

You don’t linger. No one talks to you in the halls. No one even smiles.

Alva doesn’t say hello, or bother going through the motions of signing you in once you get to the med bay. Of course, you don’t hear the hiss of the door sliding open or feel the chill of the air roll out like it usually does, either, so you wouldn’t notice if she did, but she doesn’t stop you. She doesn’t leave, either. She doesn’t practice things to say under her breath.

No one meets your gaze. They aren’t working right now, they aren’t even pretending to be at their stations, but none of them move to stop you or note anything down.

You can’t breathe. Ira isn’t taking notes on their clipboard anymore, or worrying at it, or holding it too stiffly in their hands. They aren’t holding it at all, the way they aren’t holding a coffee, either, or a book, or anything, not a random piece of debris, not each other. Not you. Their hands sit without the slightest twitch, their finger splayed evenly apart without a chance of touching. They don’t move from their resting place.

Ira refuses to look up at you.

None of them are looking at you.

Eric isn’t looking at you.

The shade isn’t open, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t look out the window or pause to rearrange the get well bouquets that have already appeared. You don’t turn on the overhead lights and Ira doesn’t try to get you to. You also don’t step forward immediately. The floor has no obstacles – no hastily discarded shoes or socks, no makeshift table, no reminders for later. No chair by the bedside. Ira’s chosen not to sit that close.

You have no idea how long you’ve been standing there, but it can’t be that long, because Alva hasn’t moved. Hasn’t even checked her messages. She’s not waiting for you, or anything, looking nowhere and listening for nothing. You don’t say anything to her, either.

You don’t take his pulse and you look away from the heart monitor, trying not to hear how deceptively steady the rhythm is. He doesn’t grip your hand back, but he also doesn’t lecture you about going out there alone, or judge what you’ve gathered, or ask you for news on movements, on other survivors. To be fair, no one ever asks for survivor news, anymore, so that’s not on Eric. He doesn’t shake his head. He won’t even open his eyes.

No one comes screaming in to tell you that you’ve finally perfected the cure and the last cell in the basement can remain unused.

You don’t tell Eric what you’ve found. You don’t give him the long list or the short one, the complaints, the hopes, the quick fixes. You don’t find some path to ease your way between his feelings and Ira’s; you don’t roll your eyes at both of them and let them fight. You don’t squeeze his hand and he doesn’t squeeze yours.

You didn’t pull up a chair, but you stay standing, anyway, away from the soft blanket wrapped around his legs, away from the warmth of his side. You aren’t worried, yet, but you still aren’t looking at his face, trying to get one last glimpse of his eyes before. You don’t memorize them. They aren’t red yet, but you don’t look.

Ira doesn’t bother breaking it to you, but they don’t say anything soothing, either. They don’t say sorry, they don’t say who else was bitten, they don’t say it’s time to say or time to go. You don’t shake them but they don’t say anything.

They don’t say there’s hope.

No governmental convoy pulls up outside, blaring a patriotic theme to declare safety for everyone, paid for in full.

They don’t say they need you to hug them.

You don’t hug them.

Eric doesn’t hug them, either, or laugh at you, or crack wise about playing fast and loose, or start singing to relieve the tension. He doesn’t play it off or lean into it. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t even have the decency to ignore you while you, well, don’t talk around him. You and Ira have nothing to say to each other at the moment. They don’t hover and he doesn’t ask either of you to stop.

No radio crackles to life with foreign aid desperate to find survivors, telling you it’s not like this everywhere and sending in a rescue mission.

The mall was empty. There wasn’t anyone in the office block, or the parking garage, or the old museum. But Eric didn’t go on this scavenger hunt with you. And Ophelia hasn’t poked her head in to complain or lecture or yell how unfair everything is or try to explain what happened. She didn’t radio you the second you set foot inside, and she never radioed you after. She hasn’t radioed Alva, either.

Ophelia isn’t busy comforting Alva. Alva isn’t busy comforting Ophelia. Alva is still here, doing nothing. And Ira is still here, doing nothing. Everyone, in fact, is right here, doing absolutely nothing, and Ophelia doesn’t burst through the doors with a miracle solution any more than any of the rest of them do.

You don’t go home, but you don’t wait out the night, either. You don’t wake up screaming. Nobody else wakes you up screaming, at least. Not even Eric, but then he doesn’t bring you breakfast, either. He hasn’t cobbled anything together this morning, even though it isn’t a particularly bad day. He doesn’t wince when you slide your fingers through his.

He doesn’t meet your gaze when you finally look into his eyes, but he doesn’t turn away from you, either. He doesn’t tilt his face into your hand as you stroke his hair, and he doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t bat his eyelashes at you, but he doesn’t cry, either. He doesn’t beg.

He doesn’t bite you, either.

No one comes to lock him in the dungeon. No one comes and no one comes and no one comes. You can’t stay forever.

Ira doesn’t meet your gaze when they come to take his vitals. Eric doesn’t protest. Ira dispenses with their bedside manner and won’t even talk you through why they do, but you don’t ask. You don’t lodge a complaint, formal or informal. They won’t look at Eric��s eyes, either, and they don’t brush his hair away. They don’t put a hand on your shoulder, your arm, your hand, your knee. They don’t call Alva over to double-check.

She doesn’t take notes on Eric, doesn’t even glance at them. Her face is blank of expression and her hands are empty of observations and her station is sparkling clean without a single thing on it and she’s nowhere near any of you.

You don’t open the window.

You don’t smash it, either.

You can’t read your notes when you finally make your way to your desk and you don’t put on your glasses. You don’t pull out any of your samples. You don’t pick up your pen. You don’t spin around in your chair or fiddle with the decorations or call anyone over to look over your work while neither of you do. You don’t invent miracle medicine immediately. You don’t even think of a new line of study.

You don’t go out scavenging for a while after that because you wouldn’t avoid the zombies. You don’t stay in your room, but you don’t sit with anyone, and no one tries to talk to you. Especially Alva doesn’t talk to you, which could mean nothing. You don’t blame Ophelia for Eric’s death. He wouldn’t. Still, you don’t talk to Alva about it. Or anything else.

Eric isn’t sitting in his seat, when you get back to your room.

Eric isn’t sitting in his seat, when you go to the cafeteria.

Eric isn’t lying in his bed, when you get back to the med bay.

Eric isn’t in the dungeon when you fail to go to the planning session you should be leading, and the guard isn’t watching the door to keep you from knowing that. It’s not good news. Ira doesn’t look at you as the stroll up beside you, and they don’t scream in shock or yell for help or turn around when Eric isn’t in his cell, and they also don’t give you a soft smile, so it isn’t good news. They don’t explain. They don’t take you somewhere else. They don’t listen to you rant and rail or tell you to stop wailing.

You don’t push them. They don’t hug you. You don’t take their hand and they don’t slap yours and neither of you stare at the empty bench in the corner.

They don’t pull out a snack and offer you a bite, and you don’t try to snatch it out of their hands and they don’t promise to get you and none of you get censured for running screaming through the halls and no one laughs and no one looks at you sternly or tells you to get your shit together and there’s no light in the midst of relentless hunting if only for a few moments before dinner. They forgot to put out a dinner menu, today, anyway.

You don’t walk out. Ira doesn’t keep staring at the empty bed in the empty cell. Neither one of you says Eric’s name. Neither of you says much. They don’t leave their hands in their pockets and you don’t pull away.

one of my favorite things to do in limited perspective is write sentences about the things someone doesn't do. he doesn't open his eyes. he doesn't reach out. i LOVE sentences like that. if it's describing the narrator, it's a reflection of their desires, something they're holding themselves back from. there's a tension between urge and action. it makes you ask why they wanted or felt compelled to do that, and also why they ultimately didn't. and if it's describing someone else, it tells you about the narrator's expectations. how they perceive that other person or their relationship. what they thought the other person was going to do, or thought the other person should have done, but failed to. negative action sentences are everything.

#look I said something #my writing #original fiction

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daisymbin · 3 days ago

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[23:40] - choi seungcheol

a/n: this is a short prequel drabble to this other drabble [21:47]

check out my masterlist!

it started out as a simple bet. you weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up there, sitting across from seungcheol in a dimly lit bar, matching his cocky grin with a look of your own. you should’ve known better than to challenge him; this was choi seungcheol, after all, the human embodiment of confidence.

“you really think you’re gonna win this one?” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his biceps bulging under the sleeves of his shirt. it was almost unfair, how smug he looked, the self-assuredness practically radiating off of him.

you scoffed, refusing to let him intimidate you. “you talk a lot for someone who’s about to lose.”

he raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening. “is that so? hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but no one’s ever beaten me at this game.”

he leaned forward then, resting his elbows on the table, and you tried not to show how much your heart was racing. he was too close, his gaze too piercing. god, he just looks so good. “but don’t worry, i’m a good sport,” he whispered, his voice dropping lower, more tempting....more seductive? “i won’t make you feel too bad about losing. I'll continue being a good friend, you'll feel like you're winning even when you're losing."

you swallowed, trying to keep your composure, refusing to let show that he had an effect on you, “big words for a big ego.”

his chuckle was low, a sound that made your cheeks heat up. “confident, aren’t we?” he tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “i like it. makes things more… fun.”

the challenge was clear in his tone, and you couldn’t back down now. not when he was looking at you like that, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

you leaned in, meeting his gaze head-on. “let’s make it more interesting, then.”

his eyes lit up with interest. “oh? what do you have in mind?”

“winner gets whatever they want,” you declared, praying your voice didn’t waver. you could only bank in on the fact that you'd win. you can't afford to lose now.

his smirk widened. “dangerous territory, sweetheart.” he paused, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “you sure about that? cause i've got something in mind. i’m game though. hope you’re ready to hand over your pride.”

you fought to keep your expression neutral, despite the way your heart was pounding. “we’ll see about that, cheol.”

he winked. “oh, we will.”

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millersfinest · 2 days ago

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the thing in your chest that beats ⁴ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.9k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho | wyoming (you’re here)

tags: @elliecoochieeater

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: healing!reader, healing!ellie, vulgar language, ellie being avoidant as hell, slow-burn romance, little jj, reader being really depressed at the beginning, little time jump, sexual content but not smut per se, pure sugary sweet ending (almost pissed ME off)

note: omg final chapter!! i didn’t really know how i wanted to end it, so i went through scenic route. i hope you guys enjoyed my little series, because i had fun writing it.

wyoming

For the first time in a long time, you were cozy—absolutely bored and comfortable, and what a delight that was! The settlement in Jackson was everything that you had hoped for. It was warm and welcoming. Not by everyone, but by enough to want this place to feel like home. When the moon replaced the sun and the stars trickled over the night sky, warm yellow lights flickered on. Draping over the center of the settlement, where the establishments flourished. Lighting up a path that was being adorned by the first snow of the year.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen snow in all its icy glory; you were nothing but a child then. Waking up from a troubled sleep, in a spacious home that you could call your own, you shuffled to a frosted window. With your arms wrapped around your body, looking to see minute flurries fluttering from the sky. Collecting in piles on the outer edge of your windowsill.

After a month of already being in Wyoming, at the settlement, reality had set in. You were no longer a soldier, or a slave, or a traveler. Finally, you have made it to the place that was nestled in your mind for endless days, weeks and months.

Relief. Solace. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Except for one thing.

The house was a two-story home, with beige striped wallpaper; mahogany wood accenting arches separating rooms, cabinets, bannisters and floor boards. Upon your arrival, it was already furnished. A long, soft maroon couch. Decorated with quilts and knitted blankets from neighbors. A square wool carpet laid flat under a mahogany coffee table. Lamps in various places, warmly illuminating the room.

A dark wood dining table. Iron cookware. Upstairs, a quiet bed frame with a decent mattress and comforter on top. A couple of pillows. Two dressers. A proportionate closet—this house looked like a home. Minus the adjustments and additions you were planning for. However, it didn’t quite feel like a home.

It was empty… Or you were empty.

Since your arrival, talking with Ellie became a challenge. You rarely saw her; it was like she handed you off to the officials of Jackson’s and dusted her hands from you. It was dramatic to ruminate over a woman who’s only obligation was to get you to Wyoming—to this community. That’s what you tried to tell yourself to stay in line, but it wasn’t working. Even after busying yourself with different jobs and tasks to start earning your keep, you still thought of her.

Hell, you caught glimpses of her. Jackson wasn’t that big. She’d be walking hand-in-hand with a small child, a toddler, talking intimately with a dark-haired woman. You saw them together often. It could only be assumed that they were important—her ex-girlfriend and son. Well, now, you were uncertain if that was her ex-girlfriend… But, again, you shouldn’t be ruminating. You got what you wanted, remember?

It was an early morning when Maria had asked to meet with you, at a coffee shop in the middle of the square. Dressed in an insulated coat with a hoodie underneath, a pair of trusted light-wash jeans and black leather boots; you began a trek from the corner of the settlement in a light layer of snow. The asphalt wasn’t cold enough to let it fester just yet, but the grass held onto the ice. Headphones rested over your ears, playing a tape gifted to you as a housewarming gift from your young neighbor.

Some old rock band from the 90s. Nirvana’s About A Girl played in your ears as your boots crunched the snow.

It took about four songs off the album for you to get to the coffee shop. Pulling the flimsy headphones down to rest around your neck, you entered the shop looking for a head of sleek blonde hair. An aroma of burning coffee beans and sugar infiltrated your nose. Small chatter was heard from people holding warm mugs, looking at old newspapers, reading novels.

From a table in the far corner of the shop, Maria stood to wave you over. A friendly smile spread across your lips, taut and plastered, as you approached the square wooden table. “G’Morning, Maria.” You reached your hand out to shake her hand, professionally.

She looked down at your hand, snickering. Impressed by your insistence on professionalism. After all, she basically was your employer. It was the one thing the fireflies taught you well—respect your superiors. “Good Mornin’,” Maria firmly shook your hand, taking her seat.

The heaters in the shop toasted up your exposed skin, causing you to remove your jacket before sitting down in the seat across from the older woman. Two cups warm mugs were put in front of you, almost on cue, by a young girl with a maroon apron. “Thank you, Melissa.” She smiled at the barista. “I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, so I just ordered you a hot chocolate. Hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, it’s fine. No complaints here.”

“Good.” Maria curtly nodded her head, pulling a black binder from a bag hanging on the back of a chair. “You’ve been sleeping well in that house?” Dabbing her middle finger on her tongue, she sifted through the pages and hand-written documents.

You blink, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug. “There’s good nights and bad nights…” Nodding, you attempt to take a sip of the hot beverage, but it was too scolding. “Not the fault of the house, just me.” The ends of your lips curl as a softener to your words. Being negative in the face of someone who granted you a place to stay felt like a crime.

Maria hummed, looking up at with genuine blue eyes. “Well, I hope there are more good nights than bad nights.”

“Yeah, of course!” You shrugged, answering entirely too quickly. Which certainly gave away the fact that you telling the truth. Her icy blues were intimidating, although you’ve seen much worse than a pair of eyes.

Falling asleep alone, in the dark was another challenge you had to face. After spending months on the road with someone, knowing they’re there… It was an eerie feeling being far from them—being along. Especially, those last few weeks leading up to knocking on the community’s door. Whenever you found a place to camp out for the night, her arms would be wrapped around you. Or your arms wrapped around her. Relishing in each other’s clothed or bare bodies; it had become a tragic comfort.

Your skin burned for her like it did on that fucking pillar. It tingled, ached and wanted for her touch. Her lips. Her eyes. Her hands.

The nightmare’s of your traumas persisted when you closed your eyes. You wanted to blame it on Ellie’s absence, but they rarely surrendered with her around. But at least when you woke up, boiling, sweating and heaving like you’d just run a marathon, a pair of arms were there to lull you back to sleep. Kissing the back of your neck to remind you that you weren’t there anymore—that you were safe.

And, when she had her moments, shooting up from your arms with tears rolling down her cheeks. You coaxed her back to sleep with her head on your chest, and affirming whispers.

You couldn’t help but wonder if those moments meant as much to her as they did to you.

She hummed at your response, pursing her lips. “If you’re having any problems let me know. I have some great remedies to help with sleep.” The blonde woman offers, a soft smile spreading on her lips. You nodded, chewing on the soft skin inside of your lip. “Now,” Maria begins. “I see that you’ve had some time to try out some of the positions we offer. Have any taken your interest?”

Flipping through a couple of pages, she continues. “I’ve heard great things from Ava Marin, she manages the patrols. Uhm, and Mrs Hayworth, from the gardens and greenhouse…”

“Mrs Hayworth is a very kind woman. I enjoyed working with her— she’s great at explaining things.” You compliment, thinking about the few days you spent with her planting vegetables and fruit. Her salt and pepper hair puffed in coils around her cherubic but wrinkled face. Crowd feet leading to a pair of squinty hazel eyes. Mrs Hayworth treated her plants like they were her children, and she enforced you to do the same.

“She is— wonderful woman.” Maria agreed.

Humming, you think about all the jobs your tried—which was a lot. Patrol was something that you were used to. Being out in the world wasn’t a grand change. However, you weren’t certain that you wanted to go beyond the walls so often. You’ve spent lots of time patrolling, surveying, killing infected—you wanted to hang that up. Every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, though. “If I were to sign up to help out with the gardens… Would that mean that patrolling would be off limits?”

The blonde woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “Not at all! For patrol, it’s in a sign-up basis. If you were to mainly do patrol, it would mean going out every other day. If you were to mainly work the gardens, that would be more of a consistent job— but you could still sign-up for patrols if you wanted.” Maria informed. “As long as you’ve been approved to go, and you have.”

“Hm…” You thought, weighing your options. The inner rage that you harbored had remained dormant since you arrived. It had been replaced with rumination and sadness for things out of your control. “Gardening full-time seems serene… I’ve spent enough time out there.” Nodding, with a subtle curl to the corners of your lips, you admitted.

Maria begins to scribble with a pen on a sheet of paper, connected to the rings in the binder. “Sounds fitting. But, of course, you can change your mind anytime.”

After you deal with business, Maria continues conversation with you. Casual, of course. You could tell she was trying to pry without being obvious—wanting to know more about you. Willingly, you gave in, because why not? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real conversation with someone. Maria Miller seemed genuine enough.

However, when she brought up Ellie, the air stiffened. And you could tell she noticed it.

“You and Ellie… Have you spoken, lately? It’s been hard getting a hold of her— it’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.” She chortles, taking a sip of her coffee. Pressing her lips together at the bitter taste.

Stunned by the mention of her, you shook your head. Fingers growing numb around the warm, untouched, hot chocolate. “Uhm, no I haven’t…”

She hummed, leaning her head to the start. “That’s odd.” Maria scoffs, bunching her eyebrows. “She made it seem like you two were very close— being that you traveled so far together…” It’s like she was thinking out loud, making you want to bolt from the wooden chair holding onto you. “I mean, she made sure that you got the best house in Jackson… I would assume that she would’ve at least visited—“

“Well, she hasn’t.” Sternly interrupting her, you inhaled, sharply.

Noticing the mistake, she sighed, looking at with blue eyes filled with pity. It irked you. Trying to fix it, Maria plastered a bittersweet smile on her lips. “She’s more like Tommy than I thought.” Bunching your eyebrows, she continued. “My husband— ex-husband— I don’t know… It’s complicated.”

You know the feeling… Kind of.

Ellie had told you about Tommy Miller. He was a very ambitious man, to say the least. Ambitious enough to send a grieving girl to kill someone in his absence—feeding off her own despair. You caught that much. But, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have ever met her. What a selfish thought. “They’re both hermits in their own right, but they always come around.” She released a wistful sigh. “Ellie will come around… Just give her some time to get all her ducks in a row.”

With tight lips, you nodded. How much time? You desperately wanted to ask, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood up, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. “Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, Maria, but I have to go.” Speaking quickly, you slid your arms into your puffer jacket. Maria abruptly stood to her feet with an inquisitive expression.

“Oh, well, uhm,” She began, rubbing her hands together. “Of course. You’re schedule should be out in the next few days. Consider the meantime your sabbatical.” Her eyes drifted over your frame like a concerned mother. “It was a pleasure talking with you, y/n. I’m glad you could join us here.”

Sending another tight-lipped smile her way, you stuck your hands into your pockets. “I’m glad you let me. See you around.”

Leaving the coffee shop, the cold air was a smack in the face. Pulling you from shackles of solemnity—briefly. Raising your headphones back around your ears, you resumed the tape inside of the Walkman clipped to your hip.

Thin flurries of snow began to fall from the bright grey clouds. Trickling over the strands of your hair, melting in contact. Stuffing your hands back into your pockets, you walked down the icy path of the square.

The main square in Jackson was littered with people. Some were standing around conversing, with cigarettes in their hands. Some worked pulling supplies in large wooden carts, moving them to another establishment. You seen a man on a ladder fixing a broken light on the outside of a pub. And a woman walking a train of small children holding hands—like they were on a field trip of some kind. They laughed and giggled under knit beanies, bundled in their jackets that may have been too big for some.

A smile appeared on your lips as you watched them march by you.

You stopped at an art store, looking up at the wooden sign. Quoting Maria, you were on sabbatical; so, you wanted to use this time to fully explore the settlement. In the month that you’ve been in Jackson, you have visited the local pub more often than you’d like to admit. Entering the store, a bell sounded, and you smiled at the few people walking around the decorated shop.

Organic paints and brushes were located in the back corner of the store, taking up two walls and some floor space. While the rest of the store harbored artwork from the people who lived in the community. And some refurbished work found outside the wall. A sign on the wall read: talk to an attendant for group and private classes. You hummed, impressed by the normalcy. Perhaps, you could sign up for one.

Meandering around, your eyes survey the paintings and drawings. Thinking about your home, it could use some personalization. You came across a landscape portrait of two women. The strokes emulated grass—olive tones—that they were lying on—intertwined with each other. Arms and legs entangled. Lips grazing each others cheeks. The strokes that were made were intentionally blurry and messy. Who were these women? Was their relationship as unofficial and indifferent as your own?

Fingers grazing the canvas of the painting, you couldn’t help but think of that freckle-faced woman you’ve grown to adore.

“You interested in that one? Nice choice.”

Even though your headphones played Nirvana in your ears, you could still recognize the outsourced voice. Her voice was like honey. Soft, warm honey. Luring you like a spell spoken by a witch or warlock. God, you missed the sound of her voice. “Funny thing is… The woman who painted this actually has a husband.” She chuckled, glancing at you with a nervous glint.

You froze at the sound of her voice, eyes glued to the art before you. Just blinking. Buh bum. Buh hum. Your heart beat in your ears, in your chest, in your hands—everywhere! Skin growing hot as if you were sat in front of a furnace. Were you mad or just upset? It was hard to tell, even for yourself.

The smile on her lips faded, immediately. Fiddling with her fingers—she always did that. “How’re you settling in—?”

“I’ve already settled in…” Your voice was eerily calm, side-eying her as you spoke. “I haven’t seen you in five weeks, Ellie.”

She sighed, adjusting the knit cap over her hair. Licking her lips, nervously. “I know—“

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” When you finally look at her, she notices the irateness in your eyes. Crowding over the feelings of yearning and sorrow.

“Can we talk? Please, just let me explain.”

Gritting your jaw, you peer at her. Thinking about hashing it out within a small walk. But, you were tender, sensitive—you couldn’t be sure that your reaction wouldn’t be explosive. What if she told you she was getting back with Dina? Going back to her family. That alone could send you into ruins. And you too far from your house to escape the public once you unleashed hell upon that woman. “You know where I live.” You told, with a pinched expression.

That was your cue to leave the store, pulling your hoodie over your head. Maybe, today wasn’t the day to tour the community. Another day. Plus, you had to spend the rest of the day anticipating a knock at your door.

It was a glum walk back to your place. You had put your Walkman on pause, walking in a depressive silence. Each step you made up your porch was deliberate and slow. An old swing chair swung in the wind, bolts shaking once you put your weight on the porch. It wrapped around the entire front of the house, and it definitely needed more décor.

Entering your house, you hung up your jacket and kicked off your shoes at the door. Stalking up your staircase, leaning in the railing, you made your way to your bedroom. The un-made bed beckoned you; so you kicked the door closed, and jumped under your covers. Hopefully, getting some shut eye could ease your nerves.

The sleep was rocky—you were in and out. In the moments when you awoke, you pulled a book from your bedside table to read—George Eliot—hoping to fall back asleep. But the novel only intrigued you for hours. Distracting from that anticipation long enough for it to come sooner than you expected.

It was dark, but it was no later than six-thirty.

You approached the door with a heavy heart, sliding your fluffy socks across the wooden floor. The reveal of the woman on your porch caused your body to heat up once more. She turned around, still dressed in the clothes from earlier.

“Hey,”

“Hey…”

Pressing her lips into an awkward line. “Nice porch.”

Scrunching your eyebrows at the compliment, you abandoned the door while it was ajar. Telling her to enter without losing your dignity. Ellie stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Shoes off.” You tell her, waving a hand, carelessly.

Walking to the kitchen, you threw onto the stove a metal kettle filled water. While your innate anger was healing, there was still pridefulness about you. You had to have some sort of control over any situation that you’re in. Ellie came to your house; this conversation was on your terms. And it was going to stay that way.

Ellie had navigated around your living room, feeling the softness of the carpet under her feet. I did good. She thought. Ellie taking part in the decision making for your accommodations was true. She wanted to give you the absolute best, because she knew she was going to need some time alone.

Appearing from around the corner, you leaned against the mahogany frame lining the entrance to the living room. With your arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. “You have about seven to eight minutes before that kettle goes off, and when it does, this conversation is over.”

She slid the hat from her head, dragging it down to the place over her belly button. Kneading the fabric with her thumbs. “Do you not want me here?” Her voice cracked, hands smacking down at her sides. “Because we can talk another time—“

“Six minutes.”

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You know, what?” Ellie scoffed, striding past you toward your kitchen. Irritation rushing through her nerves. It confused her how she could be so obsessed with someone who might’ve been more stubborn than herself.

You followed her into the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman reached for the kettle, taking it off the small flame. Flicking off the fire, she turned to look at you. “You’re not gonna give me six minutes to explain myself— I’m not gonna let you rush this.”

“I’m not rushing anything.”

Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms. Leaning her back against the counter, coolly. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” Ellie raised an eyebrow, mocking words that you’ve said in the past.

Squinting your eyes, glaringly, you scoff. “Just… Talk, Ellie.” You waved your hand, leaning on the threshold bordering the kitchen and the small foyer. Perhaps, you were pushing it a bit too far.

The auburn-haired woman sighed behind speaking. Placing her hands on the edge of the counter. “When I left… It was an immediate decision— made in the middle of the night in a farmhouse I shared with my girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, and my kid.” She began, eyeing you intently. “I left my family behind, y/n, including Maria and Tommy and anyone else in this fucking community that I knew.” Her hands moved as she spoke, passionately. “In that moment, I don’t think I ever planned to come back. There was nothing to come back to…

Then, I met you. When I thought I traveled so far for nothing— I met you.” Her olive eyes looked to the ceiling, thinking. While your heart blundered under your ribs. “Coming back was never my intention, and I left that way. So, when I walked through those doors… I had a lot of work to do. A lot of bridges to mend and gain the trust of again— which I’m still doing, by the way.”

Her hand jutted out, before slapping against her thighs. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like that. Truthfully, I was overwhelmed.” The woman confessed, scratching the back of her head. “For the first two weeks, I was begging for Dina to let me see JJ, my son. For the next, I was arguing with Tommy for letting Abby go— it was a lot. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to put any of that on you.” Pursing your lips, you nodded. “You’ve been through enough… I was protecting you. I wanted you to just focus on settling in.”

“Well, it was hard settling in without you.” It almost came out like a whisper—a little louder than a whisper. Followed by a dry, stubborn chortle. “I spent months on the road with you, and it’s like you just hung me out to dry. That fucking sucked.” Averting your eyes, you peered at the shining floorboards.

She nodded, frowning at your downcast expression. But, there was an element of proudness. Give or take a few weeks back, you’d argue her down over anything. However, this time, vulnerability leaked from you. Poured from your words and demeanor like liquid gold. “I know, and I’m really sorry. It was fucked up. But it will never happen again— I swear to you.”

“What if something else comes up?” You question, chewing on the skin inside your lip.

“I’ll clue you in— every time.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the status on you and Dina?”

Ellie rubs her nose with her index finger, ready to answer your rapid-fire questions. “Cordial co-parents.”

“Does she know about us?”

A goofy smile spreads across her plump lips. “We’re an us?”

Narrowing your eyes at her, fighting a little grin, you responded. “Answer the question, Ellie!”

“Oh, my God! Yes, she knows about us, and she’s happy for me.” With amused features, she begins to slowly approach you. “Now, are you done with the twenty questions game? Because you haven’t accepted my apology once…” She pouted, sliding her hands over your arms, pulling them from their crossed position.

Batting your eyes at her, feigning thought. The touch of her fingers on you sparked a fire, setting your skin ablaze. Even if it was in your best interest not to accept her apology, you probably still would. The way her eyes looked into you with such gentleness—it couldn’t be replicated by anyone else. “I accept your apology…” You admit, grazing your fingers up the sleeves of her flannel.

“Fuck, yes!” She wasted no time to embrace you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Tightly, you wrapped your arms around her back, leaning your head over her shoulder. “I missed you. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you?”

“You have no choice but to make it up to me.” You spoke against her exposed skin, pecking the side of her neck. “For the sake of lost time.”

Ellie giggled at the brush of your lips, pulling away with raised eyebrows. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot— be right back.” She runs to your front door pulling it open, and leaning to the side to grab a flipped canvas that was leaning against the outside brick wall. It was the portrait you were considering buying at the art store. “Housewarming present!” She grinned, presenting it in front of herself.

You matched her smile, reaching out to take it from her. “That woman is totally gay for making this.”

“So gay. I feel bad for her husband.”

Sharing a laugh, you look back at her, setting the canvas to the side against the wall. Walking up to her, you grabbed her face, caressing the skin of her cheeks. Musing at her earthy features, taking them all in like you’d never see her again. The last time you saw her, it’s like you took it for granted—not knowing if it was going to be a while before you got to look at her the way you wanted to. Leaning into her, you pressed your lips against hers, unabashedly. Her hands found comfort at the divot of your waist, pulling you flush against her.

Sliding your hands down to the nape of her neck, the kiss deepened. You whined into her mouth when she slipped her tongue between your lips. With the combination of her grip on your waist and the taste of her lips, you wanted to merge your bodies—so she could never leave your side again. You’ve survived enough tragic loss; was it so bad to want this one thing? The touch of your troubled lover.

Ellie backed you against the wall, muttering against your lips. “I wanna take my time with you…” She began to trail hot kisses over your cheek, down your jaw, to the sensitive parts of your neck. “Show you…” Smack. “Just how much…” Smack. “I love you.”

Under the waistband of your jeans, you throbbed, but the thing beating inside your chest swelled and beat louder. “Y— You love me?” The tips of your fingers scratched at her scalp, comfortingly. As she pulled her face from your neck, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I do.” Her thumb came up to caress your jaw. “I really do.”

That was your cue to completely devour her. You pulled her upstairs, into your bedroom, to ravish her—to ravish each other. Stripping from your clothes to come unto one another with a sickening love. Her lips traced every part of your body; suckling, nibbling, tonguing down the most sensitive parts. Pulling moans from your diaphragm, seamlessly. She cooed for you and spoke filthily in your ear while touching you with a gentle firmness that only she could replicate over and over—making you come undone hard. As if the universe came from within you.

Stars, planets, galaxies—celestial bodies!

You and Ellie were two halves of one whole. Everything that led up to that beach happened with the purpose of bringing the scorned together. To cancel it out, blossoming something much greater. Somehow, you proved to each other that you were both worth saving. No matter the sin. No matter the guilt. It was all worth it to end up wrapped in her arms, skin to skin, caressing her battered epidermis.

As months progressed, gearing up for the spring season, Ellie had long moved her stuff in. Her easel and unfinished works nestled in the guest room. Her clothes were stuffed beside yours in the drawer before your bed, and the closet beside your door. Bringing in sunrises with sleepy, feathered kisses and innocent touches. It was a dream you both got the chance to live out.

This wasn’t enduring or surviving—it was living. Experiencing life.

With your hands covered in dirt, replanting a radish, joyful voices were behind your back. Looking over your shoulder, a tiny frame was trotting toward you, calling your name. Ellie in his trail, with her hands in her pockets.

Gasping, you turned around with a grin. “Hey, buddy!” You opened your arms for him to promptly land in them. Keeping your hands far from his jacket so the soil wouldn’t dirty him up.

“Careful, JJ, she’s working!” She tried, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, Ellie, it’s fine.” You waved a dirty hand, sliding them off your fingers, dropping them onto the grass. So you could reach under his arms to hoist him onto your hip. The sun landed just right on his little head, sparkling off his small growing teeth.

Ellie’s lips curled at the sight. “He wanted to come visit you at work before I dropped him off.” She meandered toward you, pecking your lips.

“Just JJ? Or you, too?”

“Both of us, whatever.” Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Plus, I had to remind you of our dinner date tonight— its mandatory. You can’t be late.” Her fingers pushed fallen pieces of your hair from your forehead.

Once you had gotten into the grove of gardening, time flew by. It would go from seven in the morning to eight in the afternoon like it was nothing. Causing you to miss out on some of the plans you made with your generous lover. “You’ve been reminding me since I got up this morning. Trust me, I remember, Ellie.” You squeezed his chubby cheek, cooing at him. “Ugh, I love him.” You gushed, peering between him and your girlfriend.

“Oh!” You pulled a folded-up paper from your back pocket. “JJ, you wanna do me a big favor?”

His eyebrows lifted, grinning.

“Give your mama back this recipe for me, all right?” He takes the paper in his hands, preparing to unfold it. “Promise me you’ll give it to her…”

“I promise!”

“Okay, bud. Tuck it tight into your pocket until you get there.”

Instead of unfolding, he pushed it into the pocket of his coat, messily. Patting it, to let you know it was inside. Kissing him on his cheek, you put him back on the ground. Eyes glancing at the watch on your wrist. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Your hand found hers by her side, leaning your body toward her arm. “Thanks for visiting me, babe. Letting me see that beautiful face of yours.”

Ellie blushed, averting her glazing eyes. You leaned your head closer to hers, warmly kissing her cheek. “My pleasure…”

“I’m sure.” You teased, inconspicuously biting her ear. Quick enough that it went unseen to the surrounding people, and JJ as he played with the leaves sticking out of the garden. Ellie released an airy sigh, narrowing her eyes at you. She whined your name as if she were embarrassed. “Don’t be like that— you know I love you.”

“I love you more… But you have to chill. Mrs Hayworth is right there.”

“You don’t know Mrs Hayworth like I do.” You snicker, waving a hand to the older woman a few bins away. The salt and pepper haired woman waved, sending a teasing wink. Ellie looked back at your with confused, and slightly horrified, features. “I’ll tell you about it later. At the dinner I’m not going to be late to.”

“And you better not.” Ellie poked you, with pouty lips.

“Ellie, I won’t.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She kissed you one more time. A little longer. A little deeper. “I won’t keep you from the vegetables anymore. JJ, say buh-byes.” He jumps from a squat, waving his hand with a smile. “I’ll see you later. C’mon, kid.” Ellie hoisted him up into her hip and began walking back the way she came to deliver him to Dina’s. Leaving you with metaphorical heart eyes, pulling your gloves back onto your hands.

And, when later came; over a hearty chicken dinner prepared by Ellie Williams herself, a shiny silver band was presented to you in the pages of a book. Laying over an underlined and highlighted excerpt of the book—something you highlighted. It was a novel you had finished sometime between the end of December and early January.

“‘What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?’” Ellie had recited, evenly. With not a speckle of wavering, or awkwardness, or pause—unless it was intentional. “Adam Bede. Your favorite book… I hope it’s your favorite book.”

Jumping from your chair across from her, you leaped into her arms after placing the book into the dinner table. Pecking your lips across her face. “Yes! Yes! Ellie, a million fucking times, yes!”

“I didn’t even ask the question.” She laughed in your ear, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

Pulling back, you narrowed your tearing eyes at her. “You don’t have to. I already said yes.”

“But isn’t that the exciting part… Popping the question?”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “I thought the exciting part was me saying yes to marrying you…?”

Ellie spent days studying George Eliot, hours setting up the dinner, and minutes shaking with anxiety. Working herself up to saying those magic four words, only for your to swipe the chance right from under her. And, honestly, she loved you more for it. “All right, can I at least put the damn ring on your finger?”

“‘Course, you can, Els.” You pull the book toward you, opening it up on the page with the ring. Ellie takes it from your fingers, glancing at you with opalescent olive eyes. She slid it onto your ring finger, delicately twisting the band around. You grinned, hopelessly, with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Her hand trailed up your arm, squeezing. “My lucky charm…” She muttered, thoughtfully.

“I’m all yours.” You lean close to her lips, glancing at them. “And you’re all mine.”

Neither of you were able to finish the dinner while it was hot.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams fluff #lgbtq #ellie williams smut

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griefabyss69 · 3 days ago

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Flashpoint

Written for @steddiemicrofic! And dedicated to @swifterthings. Happy birthday Meg!!! <3 <3 <3

[ AO3 ] 'GUARD' wc: 532 | rated: E | cw: Public sex, humiliation

Steve is a sexual thrill seeker, Eddie gets off on humiliation, and they're deeply in love—a tale as old as time!

By now, Eddie thinks he should be used to the risky shit they do whenever Steve gets adventurous. Sure, maybe a handful of strangers have caught them, but nothing bad has happened; usually they just laugh or duck their head and walk faster.

Still, it's like Steve's either gotten too confident or he's looking for a bigger thrill, because today he's got Eddie bent over the hood of his car in the parking lot of the grocery store.

It's nighttime, but cars are still going by on the road and if someone turns into the lot they'll see Eddie lit up on both sides by the headlights of the Beemer.

Eddie's knees are like jello and he can't tell if it's from the humiliation, the fear of getting caught, or the insane shit Steve's doing to him, with his long fingers stroking the inside of his ass. All he can do is flatten his hands against the hood and rest his cheek on it, giving into whatever Steve decides they're doing tonight. He's pretty sure he's drooling on the metal.

His mind is just starting to slip out of hard reality and into something a little more comfortable when a car does pull into the parking lot. Steve buries his fingers as deep as they'll go and stops, leaning over him to cover him with his body.

"Hide your face," he murmurs in his ear.

"Car trouble?" a man's voice calls from where he's pulled up.

"We're okay," Steve calls back, and Eddie gives a thumbs up, hoping the nail polish will help sell their heterosexuality.

"Pretty crazy to be doing that here," the guy laughs. "But have your fun."

"We will, thanks," Steve replies, wiggling his fingers inside of Eddie, forcing a helpless shudder out of him.

The man drives off and Steve pulls back, no longer hiding him, and once again Eddie's exposed to the world. He looks back, seeing the exhilaration in Steve's face, and understands.

Steve wants to humiliate him and save him. He wants to show him off and be his body guard at the same time.

"You fucking loved that," he accuses.

"Yeah," Steve sighs, happy. "You're lucky I covered you."

Eddie images Steve openly fucking him like this in front of the stranger and shivers, feeling his dick jerk where it hangs between his thighs.

"You love me too much to do that," he says, not sure if Steve's gonna take it as a challenge or not.

"That's not it," Steve says, using his free hand to get his jeans undone and pull his dick out. "I love you too much not to share you."

Eddie groans into the puddle of drool he left on the hood. The haze from before starts to overtake him again as Steve pulls his fingers out. He hears a cap, then there's cold lube sliding from his ass crack down to his balls, making him shudder and widen his stance.

When Steve pushes his dick into him it goes easily, but it's still a big hot thing taking its claim, connecting them in a way that never fails to make Eddie's spine melt.

"I love you too," he moans.

#griefabyss69 writing #steddiemicroficnovember #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #now with ao3 link!

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drabbles-mc · 2 days ago

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Just Like Old Times

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & F!Reader

Written for @narcosfandomdiscord Book of Inception: fanwork that provides an origin story for a character that doesn't have one & "He made me who I am" & improvement

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: the way that the last week or so has gone really just zapped all the motivation and creativity out of me, so getting this written really fought me every step of the way lmao. but i will say, that thinking about Jake Seresin in high school was fun. giving him a brother was also fun. going three for three on these prompts was challenging and rewarding and fun. and now i want to revisit these two at some point because idk i have issues lmao

You knew from the second that you’d walked into The Hard Deck that night that he didn’t remember you. Part of you didn’t really blame him, high school being such a distant memory for all of you now. Not just in years, but in all the experiences you’d packed into those years as well. From one standpoint you understood it…sort of.

From another standpoint you couldn’t believe that he could look you in the face and not say a word, not have even the tiniest flicker of recognition. He had looked right at you, and moved right on along to the next person. No matter how much things changed, they always stayed the fucking same.

It wasn’t until everyone was sitting out on the beach after the football game that the two of you even had a real conversation. Up until that point everyone had been running circles around each other, and you had much bigger things to worry about than Jake Seresin’s recollections of you, or lack thereof.

You were mid-conversation with Bob and Natasha when you noticed that neither of them were really looking at you anymore. You searched their faces, trying to figure out what it was that they were looking at.

Natasha leaned back, palms sinking into the sand as she said, “Bagman, six o’clock and incoming.”

You rolled your eyes, still not turning around to look at him. “Man knows how to ruin a good day.”

You didn’t have to look back to know how close he was, the tilts of Bob’s and Natasha’s head spelling out that information for you. His footfalls were nearly silent on the sand. Without realizing it, the closer he got, the deeper you pushed your fingertips into the sand like you were searching for something to grip onto.

Suddenly you were cast in Hangman’s shadow as he stood directly behind you. You shut your eyes for a moment, the longest blink ever as you tried hard to bite your tongue.

“Ladies,” he said, and you didn’t have to be looking at him to know exactly what his face looked like. “Bobby.”

Natasha was squinting against the sun but she still pulled a bit of a face. “It’s a good day, Hangman,” she said with just enough warning in her tone. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He chuckled, and you could see from the movement of his shadow that he was holding his hands out. “Every day at Top Gun is a good day, Phoenix. Thought you would’ve known that already.”

You were hoping that it was just going to be a quick thing, an in-passing comment that he made because he simply couldn’t bring himself to walk by your little trio without saying anything. But of course it wasn’t. Somehow the shift went from Natasha making extremely thinly veiled comments to the effect that Jake should hit the goddamn bricks, to him plopping down on the ground right there with you. He wedged himself right there between you and Bob like he had been there the whole time.

It didn’t take very long after that for Natasha to find a reason to leave. And wherever Natasha went, Bob was only ever a few steps behind. That left it with just you and Jake and the ocean that was slowly beginning to calm in front of you. It was a scene that could’ve been a peaceful one if the man sitting next to you had any interest in that.

Legs bent and pulled up towards you, you draped your arms across your knees. You were staring out at the receding waves as you asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Seresin?”

You could feel him staring at you and you made a point to not return the gesture. “Where’d you say you were from?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t. Also don’t think you’ve actually asked me a question directly the entire time we’ve been here.” You cast him a glance. “Too busy giving Rooster a hard time.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly at you like he was studying you, but there was still a smirk on his face. The more time you spent around him, the more you wondered if that was just what his face defaulted to these days. He leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Wasn’t until I heard Phoenix call you by your last name earlier that I realized—”

“Wow,” you barked out with a laugh, unable to stop yourself. “You’ve been running drills and sitting in class with me for how long and it took until today for you to recognize me? No sense of déjà vu sitting two rows over from me and picking on other kids in class? Nothin’ jogged your memory even a little?”

He leaned back, brows meeting for a moment. “When did you—”

“The first night we all got here!” you said, gesturing emphatically at nothing.

The smirk instantly returned to his face. “I’m that memorable, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Fuck off.”

“What? C’mon, you can’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“No?” he asked, chuckling like he knew better than to believe you. A lot of confidence in your character for someone who only remembered who you were within the last two hours.

“No. Being mad would suggest that I’m somehow surprised that you’re still the way that you are. And I’m definitely…not.” You sighed. “You’re still Jake Seresin. Only difference now is—”

“My rank? The number of confirmed kills I have?” he tried to fill in the blanks, cocky as he’d ever been.

You looked at him. “Only difference is now you’re old enough to know better.” You saw the way he rolled his eyes at you and couldn’t help but to say, “I don't get you, Jake.”

The look on his face let you know that it had been a long time since someone referred to him by just his first name, not his last or his callsign. There was something intimate about it in a way. You wouldn't have given it any thought if he hadn't flinched at it.

He recovered as quickly as he could, that air of nonchalance reappearing around him. “I'm no Mystery Man.” He held his hands out in a brief gesture, like an invitation to scan him over. “What you see is what you get.”

It wasn't untrue. Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who lived a double life. Who he was around you was exactly who he was around everyone else. Maybe when it was just him, when there was no one else in the room looking to him or expecting anything from him, he was a different person. Not that it mattered—the world was never going to know. Reaching as far back as you could in your brain for memories of him, he'd always been some version of the man sitting in the sand next to you. He was just looking a little more refined these days.

You had just been hoping, when you'd seen him again, that maybe he would've changed by now. Nothing would be different if he wasn't different, but it would've been nice if it could be. The longer you looked at him, the more you tried to un-blur all of the memories that you hadn't bothered to tap into in a long time.

“How's your brother these days?” you asked, diverting course just slightly.

The question was immediately met with an eye-roll. “Fine.”

You had to let out a quiet laugh at that. “Yeah? That good, huh?”

He shrugged. “You want the play-by-play or something?” He shook his head, looking out at the ocean instead of at you. “He's fine.”

“You two not get along anymore or something? I thought you were both—”

“I see him on holidays. We text on birthdays. He is off doing…whatever he does.”

You hadn't expected the tension. From what you remembered, the two of them had gotten along well enough. His brother was a few years ahead of both of you, in his senior year of high school when the two of you were freshman. But he'd always been nice, nicer than Jake had been anyway. But they ran in a lot of the same circles, played a lot of the same sports, and they seemed to have a relatively good time doing it. Judging by the way that Jake was avoiding looking in your direction, you were now wondering if you were misremembering it all.

“We're grown-ups now, you know,” you offered up finally. “If you don't want to talk about him you can just say that.”

He flipped it right back on you. “We're grown-ups now, I can answer questions about Tommy if you have them.”

You laughed quietly and shook your head. “I can see that. The answers you've given so far have been so thorough and paint such a clear picture.” It got him to laugh even though you could tell that he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. After a moment you cleared your throat. “You guys just seemed to get along back then, is all.”

Now he was looking at you again. “Yeah, Tommy got along with everyone back then—still does.”

You hummed in amusement. “Guess that trait isn't a genetic one, then.”

He cracked a small grin as he swatted sand at you. “Funny.” There was a pause, and you were waiting for him to pick something else to talk about, or for him to just get up and leave. Instead, he gave himself a moment and then said, “Tommy graduated with a full ride, but even when he was gone somehow I was still…” he trailed off. “Navy was the first place I wasn't a legacy kid. No footsteps to follow. Just me.”

“Hmm,” you nodded, not sure what you really wanted to say in response to that.

He caught your uncertainty. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…you wanna say that your brother, your family, your whoever was why you were like that back then. Fine, I get that, kind of. But then why,” you curled your fingers into the sand, “are you still up to all the same shit?”

“I'm not—”

“You are.” The laugh you let out was dry. “I'm one of the only people here that you can't lie to about that. I knew you back then, and I know you now, and from what I've seen? Not much has changed.”

The pinch of his brows let you know that what you were saying was getting to him, whether he admitted to it or not. He tried to hide it, and was semi-successful at it—it probably would've fooled someone else. “If it ain't broke—”

You didn't let him get to the end of the sentence. “There's always room for improvement.”

You were used to laughing at your own little one-liners, but Jake laughing at them too was new, especially when they were at his expense. Whatever the two of you were doing in that moment, it was the closest to being friends that you'd ever been. It was still a stretch but it was something.

“I don't know, you stack my resumé up against anyone else's here and I'd say I'm about as improved as it gets.”

“I think the one thing that could definitely still do with some improving is your humility,” you rebutted with a laugh. You geared up to hear some comment about how there was no need to be humble if he could back up everything that he was saying. When he didn’t, you said, “And, if you feel like taking suggestions—”

“You got another one for me?” he joked.

You laughed. “Yeah, of course.” You cleared your throat. “You said it yourself that this is the one place where none of that other stuff matters, like it never happened. So maybe, when you get a chance, you should get around to dropping all the bitterness that goes along with the brotherhood rivalry.” You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Cocky doesn't pair well with the sad, ‘He made me who I am,’ shtick.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he laughed. “You're meaner than I remember.”

“Yeah, that's because you don't remember me,” you said, the lift at the ends of your lips taking the sting out of your words.

The look of surprise didn’t fade from his face, neither did the amusement. “Damn.”

You still had a smile on your face as you stood back up. Brushing the sand off the backs of your legs, you looked at him. It was a strange feeling, caught between remembering how things were back then and knowing how they were now. A lot of things hadn't changed, clearly, but the circumstances certainly had. You wanted more of it to be different, but there was no saying it so plainly.

“You heading back?” you asked, standing completely upright.

He looked up at you from where he was sitting. Shaking his head, he replied, “Not yet.”

You cocked your head to the side, folding your arms over your chest. “Going to sit out here with your thoughts?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Well, you did give me a lot to think about.”

“Don't think too hard,” you joked as you started to walk away, “otherwise smoke’ll start coming out of your ears.”

“Your concern is touching!” he called after you, laughing as he spoke.

Turning around to face him, you continued walking away. “Guess I'm just too sentimental for my own good!” you replied, throwing your hands up in apparent exasperation with yourself.

You could still see the grin on his face as you turned back around. Even with your back to him, you still found yourself smiling too. You knew better than to get your hopes up for much, but there was still part of you that was thinking that maybe there was still a chance for things to start changing before all was said and done.

There was still the very large possibility that things would continue to be the same as they ever were. You knew that. But, the same way you'd been wanting things to be different the first night you turned up at The Hard Deck, you still wanted things to be different now. It felt a little more attainable now than it had then. And, if nothing else, at least you knew that this time everything was going to be a bit more memorable.

(divider by @inklore 🩶)

TGM Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

#narcovember #book of inception #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #x reader #x reader fic #hangman x reader #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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howlingday · 2 days ago

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The Vytal Festival, Leader~!

Jaune: (Thinking) The festival is today. Some people are going out of their way to dress up for it. Probably every girl here is wearing some kind of dress or another.

Jaune: (Thinks of Nora in a dress, Blushes) She... She wouldn't ask me. She'd think I'm too creepy to ask. But... If she won't ask me... Should I?.

Jaune: NO WAY! NEVER! NOT IN A MILLION YEARS! She'd just say something even worse like,

Nora: (Jaune impersonating) "Whaaat~?! Leader WANTS to go to the festival with me? Ew~! I would have asked you as a joke to see how flustered you'd get! This just makes you look even more desperate and creeeeeepy~!"

Jaune: ...

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

Jaune: I might as well look around since it only comes once in a while... Maybe I should get some caramel popcorn before going back to the dorm.

???: (Taps Jaune's shoulder)

Jaune: (Turns)

Yang: FOUND YA, VOMIT BOY~!

Ruby: We found ya~!

Jaune: !!!

Jaune: (Runs away)

Ruby: (Chases, Tackles him)

Yang: Didn't take you for the festival guy, Vomit Boy~.

Ruby: Never took, VB~!

Yang: Wait... Don't tell me... You only came out... looking for Nora~? Just out and about hoping to see her, right~?

Ruby: Aw~! That's cute~!

Jaune: N-NO WAY!

Yang: Eh, that's too bad. She told us she wasn't coming down. Said she had to make up for a test or something.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Oh. Alright then. (Walking away)

Yang: (Grabs his arm) Hey, hey, where you goin'~?!

Ruby: (Grabs his arm) Hey, hey~!

Yang: Hey, Rubes~! Grab... "THAT"!

Ruby: Gotcha, gotcha~!

CLANK!

Jaune: (Metal collar around neck) !!!

Ruby/Yang: WE CAUGHT A VOMIT BOY~!

Yang: You're ours now, Vomit boy~!

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

Ren: I'm sorry for keeping you so late, Nora, but you need to keep your grades up.

Nora: Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I wanted to do more, but things kept coming up.

Ren: Actually, the festival is today, isn't it? Why don't we go?

Nora: Hmm...

Nora: (Thinks of Jaune, Smiling) Maybe I should...

BZZ! BZZ!

Nora: Huh? (Checks scroll)

Yang: (Via scroll) Look what we caught~!

Ren: (WHOOSH!) Hm? Nora? Nora? Where'd you go?

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

Jaune: Wait... You sent that pic to Nora?

Yang: Yup~! Should be here any minute now to steal our pet~!

Jaune: WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PET?!

Ruby: (Points at Jaune) PET~!

Jaune: She's doing make-up assignments, though.

Jaune: (Fidgets)

Jaune: She's not going to show up anyways.

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

Nora:

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

Yang: (WHOOSH!) Hm? Hey, look who finally showed up~! Didn't you have a test to redo?

Nora: Y-Yeah, but it was, like, super easy, y'know?!

Jaune: (Wearing the collar)

Yang: (Holding the leash, Grinning)

Ruby: (Grinning)

Nora: YOUR COLLAR... IS HILARIOUS.

Yang: Right~? Super hilarious~!

Ruby: Hilarious~!

Nora: IT LOOKS LIKE FUN. GIVE IT.

Yang: (Keeps leash out of reach)

Yang: VOMIT BOY IS OURS NOW~! Y'WANT 'IM BACK?! YOU GOTTA BEAT US IN A CONTEST~!

Ruby: Contest~! Contest~!

Nora: Psh! I don't give a damn about Leader, but I ain't steppin' 'way from a challenge!

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

Nora: By the way, Leader... I didn't think you liked festivals.

Jaune: I... I-I thought it'd be a nice change of pace, you know?

Nora: ...Wait a minute, were you waiting for me to ask you~?

Jaune: N-NO! NO WAY!

Nora: Hahahahaha~! Ah...

Nora: ...If you want to go to the festival with somebody, Leader... It's better you ask them out yourself.

Jaune: ...

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

Nora: Winner~!

Yang: Huh? What are you talking about? We've got way more prizes than you!

Nora: Yeah, but look at this plush sword! Quality over quantity, right?

Yang: Even still, we've got more than enough stuffing in our prizes to make twice of your sword, right, Ruby?

Ruby: But the sword has actual value...

Yang: What?! For real?!

Nora: Y'want the sword, Ruby~? I know you love weapons of all kinds~!

Ruby: SWORD! SWORD~!

Yang: I can't believe you bribed my sister!

Nora: I CAUGHT A LEADER~!

Jaune: Will you take this stupid collar off already?

Yang: Suit yourself~! (Removes collar) Later, Vomit Boy~! Try not to get caught, alright~?

Ruby: Be free, little Vomit Boy~! Be free~!

Jaune: I'M NOT A WILD ANIMAL!

Ruby/Yang: (Leave)

Nora: ...

Jaune: ...W-Well, since we're here... Why don't we walk around for a bit?

Nora: Y-Yeah... Sure!

#rwby #ijiranaide nagatoro san #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #ruby rose #yang xiao long #lie ren

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ducktoo · 5 hours ago

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Love is War

[Irene x Reader]

Note: I….friggin….love….Kaguya-sama so much. It’s just a funny show to watch and I’ve wanted to make something inspired by them. I had a lot of fun with this.

TW: a lot of second handed embarrassment

(She’s kinda like Kaguya)

You sit across from Irene in the empty student council room, the evening light filtering through the tall windows, casting long shadows that add a layer of mystery to the already tension-filled silence. Irene is flipping through some papers, meticulously reading, yet somehow ignoring your presence. Her focus, as always, is sharp, precise — but you've noticed the subtle glances, the way her lips curl ever so slightly when she thinks you aren’t watching.

You lean back, determined to stay calm. After all, if you show any interest first, it’s game over. Irene is the president, elegant and controlled, respected and even a little feared. And you, as her vice-president, know every one of her mannerisms by now, but this silent tug-of-war — this feeling she hasn’t just caught your eye but your heart too — has been going on for months. But you’d never give her the satisfaction of saying it first.

“So,” you say, nonchalantly, “another meeting… just us, huh?” You emphasize the “us,” making sure it sounds casual enough to not raise suspicion.

She raises an eyebrow, not even glancing your way. “You’re the vice president, remember?” She flips to the next page. “Or did you forget why you’re here?”

Ouch.

But you can play it cool. “Just making conversation,” you reply with a smirk. “Not everyone spends hours in silence like you do, President.”

She finally looks up, her eyes sharp, and for a second, you’re caught in her gaze. This is all part of the game, you remind yourself. Whoever slips first, whoever lets their guard down, loses.

“I don’t mind silence,” she says with a smirk of her own. “Unless you’re uncomfortable?”

“Oh, of course not,” you scoff, leaning forward. “If anything, I think you’re the one struggling to keep it together.”

She narrows her eyes, amused. “You think I’d give in that easily?”

“I didn't say anything,” you tease and put both of your hands up in innocence. Though your heart's pounding, every word a risky gamble. “You seem pretty close to breaking. Maybe you’re just waiting for me to say something first.”

Irene tilts her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s funny. You think you’ve got it all figured out.” She leans in, just close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “But if you’re so certain of yourself, why haven’t you said anything either?”

The challenge is clear, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you practically crackling. You’re staring at each other, each waiting for a sign of surrender, for that one misstep.

Just then, you notice her hand on the table, fingers lightly tapping. You reach out, instinctively, to still them, and in that moment, her eyes widen slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise betraying her usual composure. Your hands linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and you can feel your own face growing warm.

You pull away, breaking the silence with a chuckle, hoping to cover up your own slip. “Nice try,” you say. “But I’m not that easy to trick.”

She looks at you with an unreadable expression before her lips twitch into a soft smile — a genuine one, not her usual restrained, dignified expression. “I’ll admit, you’re a little harder to deal with than I thought,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a rush of victory. “So, you’re admitting I’m getting to you?”

Irene crosses her arms and raises a brow, leaning back in her chair as if sizing you up. “Well…since you’re so intent on making conversation, how about a game?”

You match her confident expression. “A game, huh? Alright, let’s hear it.”

She holds up her fingers, ticking off each word. “Twenty. Questions.”

The challenge is clear, and your eyes narrow as you smile. This is an opportunity. If you ask the right questions, you might get her to reveal something. “20 questions?"

“Yes,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself. “I’ll ask first.”

You nod, already strategizing your responses. There's no way she’ll get you to slip up.

“Alright,” Irene begins, her tone deceptively casual. “Are you… seeing anyone right now?”

You blink, but you manage a cool response. “No.”

She hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Interesting. Your turn.”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” you shoot back immediately, watching her for any reaction.

She raises an eyebrow, giving you a slow smile. “No. Next question: Do you have a… special someone in mind?”

Your face heats up, but you don’t let it show. You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “No,” you say, stretching the truth just a bit. “Do you?”

She smirks, but her answer is quick. “No.” There’s a spark in her eyes now, and you know she’s trying to rile you up. “Have you ever… spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about someone without realizing it?”

You narrow your eyes. She’s getting clever with these questions. “No,” you lie, feeling like she’s closing in. “But have you ever been caught staring at someone and couldn’t look away?”

Her smirk falters for a split second, but she recovers quickly. “No.”

The room feels charged with each back-and-forth. Neither of you wants to back down, and every question seems to dig just a little deeper, as if you’re both trying to pry open a box that’s already bursting at the seams.

Irene leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone?”

The question catches you off guard, but you’re not about to let her win. “No,” you reply, keeping your expression neutral. “Do you think about me?”

Her lips twitch, almost into a smile, and her answer is a soft, measured, “No.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re sure she’s lying. But you’ve both committed to the game, and there’s no turning back now.

You decide to turn up the heat. “Have you ever wondered… what it would be like if you and I were… something more?”

Irene’s eyes widen slightly, and for a fraction of a second, you see a crack in her calm exterior. “No,” she replies, but the tiny hesitation is enough to make your heart race.

“Are you sure?” you press, grinning.

“Yes,” she snaps, recovering her poise with a steely look. “Absolutely sure.”

You can’t help but laugh, sensing her annoyance. But she doesn’t let you revel in it for long.

“Do you get jealous if I talk to other people?” she asks, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“No,” you answer immediately, fighting the urge to look away.

Irene chuckles, clearly unimpressed. “Liar.”

Your cheeks warm, but you keep your gaze steady. “Sure, like you’re any better,” you say. “Have you ever gotten jealous seeing me with someone else?”

She narrows her eyes, leaning just a bit closer. “No.”

There’s a pause, tension thick in the air. Both of you know the series of no are getting less and less convincing, but neither of you is willing to back down.

Then, Irene clears her throat, her voice softer than before. “Alright, last question. And you have to be completely honest.”

You nod, bracing yourself. “Fine. Go ahead.”

She looks you dead in the eye, her expression unreadable. “Do you… feel anything special for me?”

Your heart pounds, the air between you both thick with unsaid words. You can feel every second stretching, every fiber of your being shouting to say something, anything other than—

“No.”

Irene’s eyes widen, and for a moment, her carefully guarded expression slips, replaced with something almost vulnerable. But she recovers, her smirk returning, even if it’s a little shaky.

“Good,” she says, trying to sound indifferent. “Neither do I.”

You both sit in silence, staring at each other, knowing you’ve just lied through your teeth and realizing that you’re both too stubborn to admit it.

But then Irene leans back, her smirk shifting into a resigned smile. “Well,” she says, standing up, her voice teasing, “it seems we’re both in the clear, then. No one’s losing anything here.”

You watch her walk toward the door, and before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder, her eyes holding yours for just a second too long.

“Good night,” she says softly, with a smile that tells you maybe, just maybe, she’s as frustrated as you are.

“Good night,” you manage to reply, watching her leave, and for the first time, wondering if this game is even worth playing if it means you’ll never actually win.

Back in your dorm room, you close the door and let out a long, frustrated groan. You’d spent the entire day locked in a ridiculous back-and-forth with Irene, trying to make her slip up, but "nooo", she had to be as stubborn as ever. You throw yourself onto your bed, grabbing your pillow and thrashing around in irritation.

“‘No,’” you mutter to yourself, mimicking Irene’s voice in the most exaggerated tone possible. “'No, I never get jealous, no, I never think about you, no, I have no feelings whatsoever!’” You yank the pillow over your face and yell into it, hoping it’ll somehow drain the frustration boiling over inside you.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD BAE JOOHYUN!”

Meanwhile, across campus, Irene is pacing in her room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Every step she takes sounds like she’s trying to stomp a hole into the floor. She mutters angrily to herself, face contorted in a mix of anger and — if she were to admit it — embarrassment.

“‘Do you think about me when you’re alone?’” she scoffs, doing her best impression of your voice, throwing her hands up in the air. “Absolutely not, why would I?” She frowns, blushing despite herself. “As if I’d be the first one to say anything anyway!”

She huffs and, in a rare moment of unchecked frustration, grabs her textbook off her desk and slams it down, a futile attempt to squash the annoyance bubbling inside her. She’s never felt so embarrassed — or so irritated that she can’t stop thinking about you.

“No,” she grumbles to herself again, as if the more times she says it, the more true it’ll become. “I am Bae Joohyun…why would I fall for you?”

Back in your room, you’ve started pacing now too, every nerve on edge. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your face twisted in frustration, and throw your hands up. “This is ridiculous! I don’t even care!” You stomp over to your desk, slamming your hands down like it might somehow snap you out of this bizarre Irene-fueled haze.

“Of all the people I had to like,” you grumble, throwing yourself back on your bed, arms flailing dramatically, “it had to be the one shortie who won’t admit anything!”

Meanwhile, Irene’s found herself in a similar scene, on her bed, legs kicking the mattress in frustration. “And that kid KNOWS what they’re doing,” she says, voice muffled by the pillow she’s now buried her face in. “Just sitting there with that smug little smile, asking all those RIDICULOUS questions like they didn’t care one bit!” She lets out a loud, frustrated sigh, tossing her pillow across the room.

It’s not even five minutes before she stands, determined to shake off the restless energy building inside her, and starts pacing her room again. Each step lands with heavy frustration. She mutters under her breath, trying to convince herself: “It’s not a big deal. This is… nothing. And they were obviously lying anyway, just to mess with me. I mean, why would they ask those things unless they were trying to make me crack?”

At the same time, you’re staring up at your ceiling, arms crossed, muttering to yourself. “She just has to be so stubborn,” you say, voice heavy with annoyance.

“Every single answer, every question — it’s like she’s actually trying to lose her mind on purpose!” You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head. “But no, she’s just too proud to admit she feels anything.”

In the end, both of you spend the next hour or so in almost synchronized frustration — you, rolling around on your bed, groaning loudly every few minutes, and Irene, sighing dramatically and flopping from one end of her bed to the other, trying not to think about how much it bothers her that you refuse to admit anything either.

It’s only when you both wear yourselves out from the mutual thrashing and muttering that a sense of calm settles, leaving you both sprawled on your beds, staring at the ceiling, each lost in thoughts of the other.

But even in the quiet, both of you have the same thought lingering, echoing annoyingly in your minds:

“Why can’t they just confess already?”

“Why can’t she just confess already?”

The next morning, you drag yourself into the student council room, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation clinging to your eyelids like cement. You glance at the clock — 8:15 AM. You’ve barely gotten any sleep, and it shows. Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair’s a mess, and every step feels like it’s being weighed down by the universe itself.

You slump into your usual chair, rubbing your face. The room is eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. No one else is here yet — except for Irene, sitting in her usual spot across from you, who seems just as disheveled as you feel. Her hair’s a little frizzy, and her posture is slumped like she might collapse at any moment.

You exchange a tired glance. Neither of you says anything. There's no point in it. It’s obvious you both didn’t sleep well, and it’s all because of that ridiculous game.

"Morning," Irene mutters, sounding less like herself than usual, her voice hoarse and low.

You nod. “Morning. Did you… sleep at all?”

She gives a small shake of her head, eyes slightly glazed. “…No.”

You groan. “Same.”

“I can tell,” she says, voice tinged with equal frustration.

You both fall into an exhausted silence, but just as the tension begins to build between you once again, the door creaks open. Seulgi, the treasurer, strides in, bouncing on her feet as usual, though today she seems extra chipper — like she’s somehow been recharged by a full night of sleep, which you both desperately lack.

She beams at you both. “Good morning, my higher ups! You two look like you barely survived the night.”

“Thanks for the observation,” you mutter sarcastically, leaning back in your chair, trying to ignore the painful throb in your skull.

Seulgi raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tense energy in the room. “You guys didn’t get any sleep, did you?” she teases, looking between the two of you. “Too busy scheming with each other, huh?”

Irene gives Seulgi a deadpan stare. “We don’t need your commentary, Kang Seulgi.”

Seulgi shrugs, unfazed. “Okay, okay, no need to get defensive. You two need a distraction.”

With that, Seulgi pulls a small notepad from her bag, flipping it open with dramatic flair. “Let’s play Would You Rather,” she announces, practically jumping into the chair beside Irene.

You blink at her, too exhausted to even care about the idea of playing another game. But Seulgi’s already too deep into her plans to let you escape.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi starts, voice rising in enthusiasm, “have the ability to read anyone’s mind, but only while they’re eating something, or be able to talk to animals, but only in a language they don’t understand?”

You glance at Irene, already half-suspecting she’s not going to entertain this nonsense, but to your surprise, she lets out a small sigh and leans in, trying to humor Seulgi. “The animals. No contest.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I could ask a certain bear to stop stealing my snacks,” Irene mutters, eyes narrowing like she’s speaking from personal experience.

"I know nothing" Seulgi whistled and looked away, feigning ignorance.

You chuckle, despite yourself, because somehow that seems oddly relatable. But Seulgi’s not done yet.

“Okay, next one!” Seulgi says, flipping her page. “Would you rather always know when someone’s lying, but it makes you physically ill, or never know when someone’s lying, but it makes you constantly question everything?”

Irene shoots you a look, probably knowing where this is going. You tap your chin dramatically.

“I’ll go with the first one,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I already get physically ill just dealing with you.”

Irene doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m starting to think you might be lying about that,” she retorts, a small grin playing at the corner of her mouth.

Seulgi, clearly loving this back-and-forth, just grins wider. “Alright, now for the real fun one…”

You both exchange a look of dread.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi pauses for dramatic effect, “have to sing every time you want to communicate, but only in opera, or be unable to speak at all and only express yourself through interpretive dance?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, processing the absurdity of the question. Then, without missing a beat, Irene responds, deadpan, “I’d go with interpretive dance. At least it’s not opera.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “You would dance? For everything? For your class presentations?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it would be easier than singing opera in front of the entire school.”

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “I’d rather sing opera. It’s at least... dignified.”

Seulgi looks between the two of you, laughing to herself as if she’s witnessing the world's most ridiculous standoff. “Okay, okay, one last one. Would you rather accidentally confess your feelings to the entire school, but the person you like doesn’t hear, or have to live your life with a giant embarrassing secret that no one knows except you?”

You freeze. Irene’s gaze flicks to yours, and for a brief, horrifying moment, it feels like the entire world has just turned its spotlight on you both.

Seulgi’s watching, clearly loving the discomfort she’s causing.

“I—” you start, but then you hesitate. “I’d rather have the secret,” you say quickly, then add, “I mean, I don’t want to confess in front of everyone!”

Irene laughs — a soft, almost bitter laugh — and answers quickly, “I’d pick the same thing. Secrets are easier to deal with than... that.”

You both stare at each other, and for once, the silence between you doesn’t feel as tense as before. In fact, it’s almost like... you’ve just admitted something without even trying.

But Seulgi, ever the expert at reading the room, lets out a dramatic sigh. “You two are impossible,” she says, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “But at least we had fun.”

Irene and you exchange a glance. Neither of you says anything, but the hint of something unspoken lingers in the air. Something that wasn’t quite said in the game, but was definitely felt.

“You know,” you mutter, standing up and stretching, “next time, we’re just playing chess.”

Seulgi grins, already plotting her next absurd question. “You got it. But just so you know,” she winks, “I’m totally adding opera to the rules.”

Irene shoots you a look as if to say, See? This is your fault.

And for once, you can’t help but laugh.

A few months pass, and life in the student council room has somehow become a bizarre, ongoing comedy show. You and Irene continue your ridiculous push-and-pull game, each day a new round of Who Will Crack First?. Neither of you has budged an inch, and yet neither of you has let up on the passive-aggressive scheming either.

It’s as if you’re both living in some weird, never-ending loop of “will they, won’t they” — and it’s driving everyone around you absolutely mad.

Seulgi, who’s practically an expert at this point in navigating the absurdity of your interactions, has given up trying to intervene. She now finds it hilarious, often leaning back in her chair with a smug smile as she watches the two of you exchange cryptic looks and challenge each other with passive-aggressive “Would You Rather” questions.

One particularly awful morning, Irene walks in wearing her usual perfectly put-together look — except today, her blazer is slightly askew, her hair a little more chaotic than usual. She’s clearly been running on no sleep, but as always, she gives you a pointed, unamused look when you glance at her.

“Not today,” she mutters, sounding exhausted, and collapses into her chair with a sigh.

You blink. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m tired of you,” she snaps back, without hesitation.

You sit up straighter, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh? So you admit it now?”

Her head whips to face you. “I didn’t admit anything, you idiot.”

“Right, right. Of course not.” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, trying to play it cool, but inside you can feel a small victory bubbling up.

Yes, you’re getting to her. Keep going.

Before you can continue your “I’m always right” victory lap in your mind, Seulgi enters, holding an envelope in her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!” Seulgi greets, sliding into her chair and tossing the envelope onto the desk in front of you. “Got this for you,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself.

You blink at it. “What’s this?”

Seulgi leans forward, grinning. “Well, someone (ahem, our vice-president) just got accepted for the student exchange program. With a full scholarship, no less.”

You freeze, staring at the envelope as if it might suddenly burst into flames. It takes a moment for the words to fully process in your tired brain, but when they do — you can’t help but feel a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Wait… you’re kidding,” you mutter, flipping the envelope open. Sure enough, it’s real. You’ve been accepted into the program — and with a scholarship at that. You can barely wrap your head around it, the magnitude of it overwhelming. A chance to study abroad? This is huge.

"I MADE IT MOM!!!" You shouted, as loud as you just won a well fought war.

Irene, however, is not as happy for you. She glares at the envelope, as though it’s personally offended her. “Congratulations,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You grin, almost smugly. “Thanks, Pres. I’m going to study abroad! How cool is that?”

“Right, so you’ll be gone for how long?” Irene’s voice has a sharp edge to it, and you know instantly that something’s bothering her.

“I’m not sure,” you say, waving it off, still too distracted by the possibility of it all. “Maybe six months? Maybe more. It’s exciting, right?”

Irene doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back in her chair, arms crossed, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Her lips are pressed together like she’s holding something in.

“You know,” you say, enjoying the rare moment of feeling like you actually have the upper hand, “maybe you should congratulate me properly. This is a big deal.”

She gives you a sharp look. “I don’t congratulate people who act like they’re already the best at everything.”

“Oh, please,” you laugh, “that’s not even true. We both know you’re just upset that you won’t get to have your daily dose of me tormenting you.”

Irene narrows her eyes, leaning forward like she’s about to bite back with something absolutely scathing. But instead, she just sighs. “Fine. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do great. Now, I’ll just go back to pretending you aren’t about to abandon me for six months.”

You blink, caught off guard by her sudden change in attitude. It’s almost like she’s… jealous? No, that can’t be right.

“Wait,” you say, your voice sounding strangely unsure, “you’re mad?”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you're the dumbest person alive. “What do you think, Einstein?”

“Are you actually mad that I’m going abroad?” You almost can’t believe you’re asking. This is a new level of absurdity. She’s always acted like she doesn’t care about anything — least of all you.

Her response comes in the form of a heavy sigh, followed by her leaning back again with a dramatic thud into her chair. “I just don’t get it,” she mutters, staring at the ceiling like it’s the most tragic thing in the world. “One moment you’re here, annoying the hell out of me, and then poof — off to some other country like it’s no big deal.”

“Is that jealousy?” you ask, incredulous. “Pres, is that—”

“No!” She snaps immediately. “I’m just annoyed that you’ve been torturing me for months, and now you’re going to vanish, leaving me alone with Seulgi’s stupid games and that.”

You look at Seulgi, who’s grinning at the back-and-forth with a cup of coffee in her hand like she’s watching a reality TV show unfold before her. “I’m just here for the drama,” Seulgi mumbles under her breath, casually sipping her coffee.

“See?” Irene gestures to Seulgi. “I’m stuck here with this.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m just as confused as you are,” you joke, tapping the envelope on the table, “since it looks like I’m leaving you here to suffer alone with your secrets.”

Irene glares at you. “Stop talking about my secrets. It’s not like you even have any.”

You grin, sensing that you’ve touched a nerve. “Oh, I do, don’t worry. Just waiting for you to—”

“Stop talking.” Irene snaps, her voice so sharp it’s almost a threat.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but you don’t know whether to laugh or just keep pushing her buttons. It’s getting harder and harder to tell if she’s frustrated because of your “secret” or if it’s just the ever-present game you two have been playing for months.

Seulgi, clearly sensing the climax of your endless drama, looks between you both with a smirk. “You two are ridiculous,” she says, sipping her coffee and savoring the war, like a general on the side watching her neighbouring countries fight.

And as always, you and Irene stay locked in your little game — still stubborn, still not admitting anything, but both of you a tiny bit more frustrated than before. You can’t help but laugh, even though you’re not quite sure whether it’s from the excitement of the exchange program or the absurdity of your constant back-and-forth with Irene.

One thing’s for sure — you may be leaving soon, but the game will never truly end.

The days leading up to your final day at school felt like a drawn-out episode of Who Will Break First?.

The tension between you and Irene was palpable, like two magnets trying to repel each other while secretly waiting for the other to snap. It was absurd, and yet, you couldn’t help but be thrilled by the idea of ending this ridiculous game once and for all.

The exchange program was looming on the horizon, and you were determined to win this war — no more games, no more indirect jabs. One of you was going to finally confess, and it would be grand. You weren’t just going to do it quietly or casually.

Oh no. You had bigger plans.

Way bigger plans.

You could practically feel the dramatic music building in your head as you sat in the student council room, staring at the whiteboard, mapping out your elaborate scheme. It had to be perfect, a moment so spectacular that Irene would have no choice but to confess. You had one chance, and it had to be memorable.

The idea? A scavenger hunt.

But not just any scavenger hunt. A scavenger hunt for the heart.

“How can I make it even more dramatic?” you muttered to yourself, looking over your ridiculous list of clues and challenges. Every challenge would lead Irene closer to her inevitable fate — confessing her feelings, of course. But it couldn’t be too obvious. You had to make it like a game, because she would never confess otherwise. She was too proud.

You could already hear the sound of her internal monologue: I can’t let them get away with this. I’ll show them I’m not some softy.

Little did she know, you were about to turn this into the most obnoxiously grand gesture ever.

The next day, you casually walk into the student council room, where Irene is sitting at her desk, looking as stoic as usual. Her hair is perfect (obviously), and she’s in the middle of filling out some form that looks like it was written in some ancient bureaucratic language.

“Good morning, Pres.” you say nonchalantly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

She barely glances up at you, just giving a quick nod. “Morning,” she mutters, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Perfect. The stage was set.

“You ready for the game today?” you ask casually, leaning over to get a peek at her papers.

Her eyebrow twitches slightly. “What game?”

“The game,” you say dramatically, “The scavenger hunt. The ultimate scavenger hunt.”

Irene freezes. “What?”

You grin, feeling the thrill of your scheme starting to take effect. “It’s simple, really. I’ve set up a series of clues around the campus. Each one will lead you to the next, until you finally reach your destination. And guess what? You’re the only one who can participate. No one else is allowed.”

Irene stares at you as if you just suggested she run a marathon in high heels. “A scavenger hunt? Are you serious?”

“Yes.” You give her an exaggeratedly dramatic nod. “You’re going to love it. Each clue is going to lead you to a place that’s important to us. You’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

She blinks, clearly confused. “And what’s the point of this ridiculous hunt?”

“The point is,” you say, leaning in like you’re about to share the world’s greatest secret, “by the end of it, you’ll finally admit that you can’t stand it anymore and you will…”

You paused for a moment “…confess your feelings for me.”

Irene’s face is completely deadpan. “You’re out of your mind.”

But she’s intrigued. You can tell.

“Okay, okay. I’ll bite. Where do I start?” Irene asks, crossing her arms with that same defiant, no-nonsense look that always drives you insane.

You hand her the first clue, which is written in ridiculously dramatic handwriting. “Go to the place where it all started,” you say, practically bouncing in your chair, “You know, where we first met. Good luck.”

Irene glares at you for a second before unfolding the note. Her eyes scan it quickly. She’s already halfway out of her seat when she mutters, “This is so stupid.”

And off she goes.

What she doesn’t realize is that you’ve set up each clue in the most bizarre and over-the-top way possible.

The first stop is the fountain near the school entrance. But it’s not just a simple clue — oh no. You’ve surrounded the fountain with floating balloons that spell out “LOVE,” because you’re subtle like that. Next to the fountain, there’s a big, obnoxious banner that says, “First step to confessing your feelings: stop running away from the truth.”

When Irene arrives, she looks at it, rolls her eyes so hard you think they might get stuck, but follows the instructions anyway.

“Ridiculous,” she mutters, lifting the balloon with one hand and searching for the next clue.

Next, the clue leads her to the library — but not just any section of the library. It’s the aisle where you first bumped into her accidentally (totally not planned) on that fateful day. The shelf is stacked with books on love and confession. (Of course, you also made sure the most embarrassing ones were in plain sight.)

By the time she reaches the next clue, which is hidden inside a cookie jar in the student lounge, she’s had enough. “This is the worst thing you’ve ever done,” she says under her breath as she rips open the paper and immediately glares at the next clue.

It’s just one word: Confess.

Irene stares at the note for a solid minute, as though she’s trying to will it to self-destruct. “This is… absurd.”

She’s so close now. You’re practically jumping out of your seat, grinning so wide you’re certain she can hear the smugness radiating off you.

The final stop is, of course, the student council room. You’ve cleared out all the other council members and arranged the room like an oddly romantic restaurant, complete with candles (yes, real candles, because you’re extra) and a giant cardboard cutout of the two of you from a school event that she’ll definitely recognize.

“I swear to god, if you’ve done anything worse than this, I’ll…” Irene trails off as she steps into the room, eyes widening at the display.

You cross your arms. “Well?”

“Are you really going to make me do this?” she asks, her voice dangerously calm.

You grin, barely containing your excitement. “I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

Irene looks at you, deadpan as usual. “You’re impossible.”

You wait, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

She doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches for a few seconds, and just when you think she’s going to snap — she sighs. “Fine.”

She’s this close.

She takes a deep breath, looking you straight in the eye, and says in the most dramatically deadpan voice possible:

“I hate you.”

And just like that, you snap.

“WHAT?!”

“I said I hate you.” Irene smiles smugly, enjoying every second of your frustration. “But I think you’re kind of an idiot. And I’m sort of impressed by your sheer lack of self-awareness. So, confession done.”

You stand there, utterly flabbergasted.

“That’s not a confession!” you shout.

“I didn’t say it was a good one,” Irene retorts, crossing her arms. “But at least I win.”

And with that, you both realize — you’ve just played yourselves.

As Irene starts walking away, her smug expression plastered on her face, you stand there, still stunned, your heart hammering in your chest. You had come so close to victory — and then she just dropped the bomb on you like it was nothing.

I hate you.

What kind of confession was that? Sure, it was dramatic, but it was barely even close to what you had in mind!

But something in your chest tightens. You can’t let this end like this. No way. You won’t let her get away with this. Not when you’re so close

You take one step forward. Then another. You’re walking after her now, and you can feel the heat rising in your face as you approach. The whole scene plays out like a movie, but not the cool action kind of movie. No, this is a slow-motion trainwreck happening in real time.

“I—” You stop yourself. What the hell am I doing?

Irene turns around, still smirking as if she just hit you with the world’s greatest comeback. “What? Did you come to call me an idiot again?”

“No! I mean—YES, but—” You flounder, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you still have. She raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you mutter, realizing that at this point, the only way to salvage your pride is to act like you meant this all along.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the cringe crawl up your spine. “I—I think I like you. A lot.”

You don’t stop there. No. That would be too easy.

“Bae Joohyun, I think... I think I’ve liked you for a long time, and... and this whole thing, the games, the scavenger hunts, the balloons... it’s been ridiculous and stupid and—”

Your voice cracks, and you internally scream. This is so embarrassing. Why did I think this would work against the Ice Queen?

Irene just stands there, her smirk faltering for the first time. “Wait—are you—”

“Yes! I—yes! I like you, okay?” you blurt out, and then immediately want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. “Like, really like you. More than I can even explain. And maybe I don’t always show it, and maybe I’m not the best at this, but I’ve spent so long trying to... uh... win this stupid confession game, and now I’m realizing that I... don’t care about that anymore. I just want you to know that I like you—like, like you—and I’m tired of pretending I don’t!”

There’s a moment of silence. You stand there, your face glowing with humiliation, hands clenched at your sides, waiting for Irene to react. You almost can’t bear to look at her. You can feel the awkwardness radiating between you like a thick cloud, and it’s so heavy that it might as well be an actual physical presence.

Irene doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at you with wide eyes. Then she opens her mouth, and you hold your breath, half-expecting her to laugh in your face or walk away.

Instead, she says, “...Are you... done?”

You blink rapidly, still trying to process her words. “What?”

“Are you done?” she repeats, her voice more amused than anything else. “Because that was about the most painfully awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. I mean, are you seriously this bad at confessing?”

Your face turns bright red, and you immediately want to crawl under a desk and live there for the rest of eternity. “I—No! I mean... Yes, I am. I just... I don’t know how to do this! It’s like every time I try, I keep making it worse, and now I’m... I’m...”

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m just going to shut up now.”

Irene crosses her arms, watching you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “So, what exactly are you expecting from me now? A confession back? Do you want me to one-up you with some dramatic gesture too?”

The secondhand embarrassment is reaching a point where you feel like you might die from sheer awkwardness. “I—”

“Well, guess what?” she interrupts, her expression softening just slightly. “You’re not the only one who’s bad at confessing, you know.” She pauses, letting the words sink in. “I’m just better at pretending I don’t care.”

Your eyes widen. Wait. What?

“You’ve been so obvious for so long. But you’re... you’re a mess,” she says, voice dropping into something a little more serious now. “And I didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. I didn’t want to admit it either.”

Your brain short-circuits. “Wait, so... you—”

She gives a dramatic sigh and steps toward you. “I’m just saying,” she continues, “You’re such an idiot. And I can’t believe it took this long for you to get a clue.”

And then, out of nowhere, she leans forward and kisses you.

For a moment, everything stops. Your brain ceases to function as you try to process what just happened.

It takes about five seconds before you realize that you’ve been kissed, and another five seconds to realize that you’re staring at her wide-eyed, as if this were the most confusing thing to ever happen to you. But you’re also feeling like you might pass out from sheer shock.

As Irene pulls away from the kiss, you’re still standing there, completely shell-shocked. Your head is spinning, the words in your mind tumbling over each other, and your whole body is shaking like a leaf. You can’t believe what just happened — you’d been playing this ridiculous back-and-forth for so long, and now it was finally over.

Sort of.

Irene looks entirely too smug for someone who just outplayed you at your own game. “Well, that was definitely a moment, wasn’t it?”

Your mouth opens and closes, but you’re too dumbfounded to say anything remotely intelligent. You can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your brain still processing the fact that she kissed you like it was some kind of casual Tuesday.

“Um... can I... can I just...?” you trail off, desperately trying to regain your composure, but it’s like trying to catch a greased pig.

Irene, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected, smirking as she watches you fumble. “What? Are you still processing it, or...?”

But before you can even think of a response, you hear it.

A very loud click.

Both you and Irene freeze at the sound, and the two of you turn towards the source of the noise. And there, standing a few feet away, is Seulgi — grinning like a cat who just got into the cream.

“Oh, this is rich,” Seulgi says, holding up her phone. “Vice president, you really should’ve told me you were planning on doing a ‘confession’ scene. I thought I was going to have to orchestrate this myself, but lucky for me, I had a feeling something like this would go down.”

“No...” you mutter, feeling the blood drain from your face. “No, no, no. Did you seriously just—?”

“Oh, you bet I did,” Seulgi replies with a grin so wide it should be illegal. She’s clearly enjoying every second of this. “You two have been at this for months. I was just waiting for the moment when one of you would finally break. And I caught it all on video!”

You can feel the panic rising in your chest. “Kang Seulgi, no! You—You can’t—”

She takes a few steps closer, completely unfazed by your distress. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t post it... yet,” she says. “But let’s just say I also have some... interesting footage that could influence your future decisions.”

“Seulgi, you wouldn’t,” Irene warns, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Oh, I would,” Seulgi chirps, tapping away on her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. “I have all the juicy bits. You two were so painfully obvious, I might just have enough material for a whole documentary about your embarrassing little love war.”

(She said the title card! Don’t sue me thank you)

You turn to Irene, a look of pure despair on your face. “Please tell me this is not happening.”

“I swear to God, Seulgi, if you even think about blackmailing us...” Irene starts, but then her eyes flicker to the phone in Seulgi’s hand. She hesitates, realizing there’s really no way to undo this.

“Oh, I’m just kidding,” Seulgi says suddenly, and you almost collapse in relief, but then she adds, “Mostly.”

“What do you mean, mostly?” you ask, now suspicious.

Seulgi just looks between the two of you, her grin only growing wider. “Well, I was going to use this footage to make you two suffer with some embarrassing compilation videos... but honestly? It’s more fun to watch you both squirm. You’re so pathetically obvious, it’s hilarious.”

You groan and throw your hands up in exasperation. “I can’t believe this. Of course, Seulgi would have been lurking in the shadows, ready to capture every moment.”

Irene, meanwhile, takes a deep breath and glances at the phone again, looking more irritated than ever. “You better not show this to anyone. Or I will make your life a living nightmare.”

“Oh please,” Seulgi says, tapping the screen. “I’m just going to enjoy watching you two suffer in peace for now. But you know, if you’re ever interested in... making a deal... I’m all ears.”

Irene crosses her arms, giving Seulgi a death glare. “You really want to start blackmailing THE president and vice president of the student council? Don’t forget, I have connections.”

Seulgi raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off... for now. But let’s just say, I’ll be keeping my eyes open. You two are so obvious.”

As Seulgi walks away, still chuckling to herself, you and Irene stand there, completely defeated.

You’re both speechless.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter again, this time to Irene, who’s clearly just as done with the situation as you are. “I swear, Seulgi is too much.”

Irene lets out a long sigh and places a hand over her face, as if trying to hide her sheer embarrassment. “This is never going to be over, is it?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I’m stuck with this for life.”

“I don’t think I can show my face at school tomorrow,” Irene admits, finally letting out a little laugh despite herself.

“Same,” you reply, feeling the humiliation deep in your bones. “I’m going to pretend I’m sick. I’ll fake an injury. I’ll fake... I don’t know, something.”

“You should,” Irene agrees, “and I’ll be right there with you. The entire school will know about our ‘confession’ before lunch.”

There’s a brief silence between you both, and then, at the same time, you both erupt into groans of frustration and turned away from each other.

“This is why I hate you.”

“This is why I hate you,” Irene replies, her voice thick with secondhand embarrassment.

And there it is — the grand culmination of months of tension, teasing, and awkward games. And it ended up with you both being caught on video, standing like two idiots while Seulgi secretly enjoyed every moment of it.

Today’s result: Both lost (even with a fcking kiss)

The week after you left for the exchange program felt like a blur for you — the excitement, the new environment, and the unfamiliar routines made everything feel like a whirlwind.

But back at school, Irene was in a much different place.

Every day, Seulgi would come to school with a new glint in her eyes, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, and a phone hidden somewhere on her person. She wasn’t as sneaky as she thought; Irene could spot her from a mile away, and each time, she’d smirk to herself.

“I swear, you’re enjoying this way too much, Bae Joohyun” Irene would mutter, though the grin never left her face.

And why wouldn’t she? Each time Seulgi presented her with another batch of pictures — snapshots from the infamous day of the confession — Irene’s heart would flutter in the most embarrassing way.

There was the one of you, mid-sentence, as you tried to pull off your grand declaration. Your face was a perfect mix of awkwardness and desperation, eyes wide as you blurted out the confession.

The best part? The expression on your face was so utterly panicked that it made Irene burst into a fit of giggles every time she looked at it.

Then there was the one of you standing there, your hands raised in dramatic surrender, as Seulgi’s camera flashed. Your face was a blend of mortification and determination. Irene would often catch herself replaying that moment in her head — how precious you looked, fighting so hard for that confession you never thought you’d be able to get out.

But the one that made her giddy the most was a candid shot — one taken right after the kiss. It wasn’t a perfect picture by any means, but there you were, lips still pink from the kiss, standing in complete shock as Irene pulled away with that smug smile plastered across her face. You looked like you’d just been struck by lightning…

…and Irene was absolutely in love with the image.

Every time she glanced at it, she could feel the warmth in her chest, the little skip in her heartbeat.

But the real kicker? The deal she made with Seulgi.

“If you promise to keep these between us... and not use them as leverage against me,” Irene had said one day, as Seulgi grinned with her phone in hand, “then maybe... just maybe... you’ll get something in return.”

Seulgi had raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are we talking about here?”

Irene’s eyes glinted mischievously. “The ‘one’ photo you really want. The one where I’m looking adorably happy in front of that dork. I’ll give it to you... for a price.”

“Deal,” Seulgi said instantly, knowing exactly which picture Irene was talking about — the one of her, holding her phone with a soft smile, staring at all the pictures of you. The one where the subtle joy in her eyes was enough to make Seulgi’s heart melt.

And that, of course, meant that Irene had the perfect little “deal” in her pocket. She now had the ultimate keepsake of her vice president and all those memories of their relationship’s unspoken history — one that no one else would ever know about. Not just the hilarious moments, the embarrassment, or even the kiss itself, but the sweetness of it all — tucked away in her phone, a secret only for her to see.

The first time you sent her a message after you’d arrived at your exchange program, she stared at her phone for a moment longer than necessary, then quickly typed back:

“I miss you already. Do you remember that day?”

She hit send before she could overthink it. Almost immediately, she received a reply.

“Of course I do, Joohyun.” you texted. “How could I forget? My life will forever be haunted by that day, thanks to Seulgi.”

Irene couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m not letting you forget. I’ll be keeping all the best pictures. After all, I did get the perfect shot,” she teased, her fingers flying over her phone.

“You wouldn’t dare...” you wrote back, but Irene could tell you were joking. Your words were playful, the tone light.

“I would,” she replied, sending a winky face along with the message. She then paused, allowing herself to enjoy the quiet connection between you two.

As Irene walked through the campus, heading toward the student council room, she felt oddly content. Despite the distance between you now, despite the teasing and the games and the back-and-forth, there was this undeniable warmth in her chest. She might have started this war thinking she’d win, but now that it was over, she realized she had already won.

You.

Her vice president. The one who had made her life absolutely ridiculous and frustrating, but also the one who had somehow captured her heart in the most unexpected of ways.

Irene flipped through the pictures once more (and the candid shot that she had set as her lock screen)— the ones of you two together — and her smile softened. It was official.

She was never letting go of this.

As she walked into the council room, still holding her phone close to her chest, Seulgi shot her a knowing look. “So, when are you going to send them all the photos and just admit you’re head over heels for your vice president?”

“Soon,” Irene said, her voice thick with happiness, as she swiped through the next batch of pictures. “Just... one more time. I want to keep this to myself for a little longer..”

Seulgi rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. “You really are hopeless. It sounds more like you definitely lost this war, isn't it?”

“…maybe.” Irene admitted, unable to stop herself from smiling widely. “But I’m hopelessly in love.”

And with that, she tucked her phone away, heart full of giddy excitement, ready to face whatever came next. After all, she had time. The war might have ended, but this?

This was just the beginning.

(cue the outro)

#red velvet x reader #red velvet fanfic #red velvet #irene #bae joohyun #irene x reader #bae jooyhun icons #irene red velvet #seulgi #x reader

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 1 day ago

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To My Friend: Or, a Letter From a Villain

My dearest,

I am sorry. For everything that has passed between us. I am sorry for the fights we have had, for the scabs on our knees and the pranks we have played. I am sorry we did not do more of it.

I remember we used to sit on that tree. We carved our names on it. It was not romantic. We didn't know what romance was. It didn't matter, even if it was romance. We were just having fun.

We had a challenge to climb it all the way up to the top. It was the highest tree in the forest, or so your sister told you. I'm sorry that I never did reach that top branch, and even more sorry that I never helped you up there.

I pushed you off once. Your knee was fractured, and you yelled so loudly the weird girl from the next village over came to investigate. She helped me carry you all the way home. Mother and Father yelled at me so afterwards. I remember having to do your chores for weeks afterwards. I am sorry for that. Your tears made my heart ache so badly. I cannot believe you still let me draw on the cast. Did you like the flowers I put on them? I do not know if you could tell, but they were supposed to be lilies. Your favourite.

How are you now? Did you manage to start the shop you always wanted to man? I know you told your mother about it, and she slapped you and said to dream bigger. She told you that you would be great one day. I hope you are not. Greatness really is not what it was cracked up to be.

I am sorry I have not spoken with you. I did not think you would want me to, what with what has happened since. I do not think you would be happy to see me. I am everything I ever wanted to be, and I hate it.

We dreamed as children, did we not? I dreamt of a crown of jewels and a throne of bone, a foolish thing to want for a boy such as I. You dreamt of a quiet butchery at the heart of the village, leaning on the counter and bragging about being the one to provide the Emperor with freshmeats. What kind of whelp dreams of being a butcher, anyways? I am sorry I did not mock you for it.

How silly we were there, little kids playing a wild game of pretend. How different we were. How foolish.

I do not eat freshmeats from a butcher. No, I feast of flesh right from the bone. It tastes fresher, sharper, like the memory of you carving into my heart. Do you like carvings, still? You used to make the most adorable birds out of called branches. I would scour the forest after a storm and bring the best pieces just for you.

I would give you all the branches in the world to have you by my side. You could be my lady, my advisor, my butcher. Whatever position you want, my friend, you could have it. Just come back. Please. I am sorry for what I have become, for the monster I see in the mirror.

That tree we used to sit on is fallen now. I had it cut down after I took the throne. I am sorry for that, too. Nonetheless, it sits in my trophy room now. We could sit on it together again. I could have servants push the both of us up onto its topmost branches.

What do you say, my friend? Will you come back to me? Will you accept my apology, and renew what cruel fate tore apart? Will you be my friend again?

Remember: I know where you live. And I can bring you back to me, whether you like it or not.

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

#writing #writeblr #my writing #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing community #spilled ink #fantasy #short story

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212-apricity · 3 days ago

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siren songs and stolen kisses, intro

ssask masterlist main masterlist

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The salty breeze hit my face as I sprinted down the docks, sneakers pounding against the weathered wood as I bolted toward the clearing where my friends had disappeared only moments before. I could hear the distant shouts of cops behind me—orders barked out and the sound of feet scuffling on gravel. It wasn't the first time I'd found myself in trouble here on the Outer Banks, but it was the first time I’d been with the Pogues and not my family.

This was your world, split down the middle. Your family name made you a Kook, through and through. A Cameron, with everything it implied. Your father never let you forget it. But in the past few years, ever since Kiara dragged you along to some gathering on the Cut, you found yourself weaving between worlds, living on the edge of both Kook privilege and the carefree rebellion of the Pogues. Somewhere along the way, they'd just accepted you, like you'd been with them all along.

And then there was JJ Maybank.

You'd noticed him right away—sun-bleached hair, mischievous grin, and an attitude that made him as unforgettable as he was unpredictable. But despite everything you'd been through together, you two were just friends. JJ was a bit of a hurricane, something wild and free that both thrilled and scared you, and you weren't exactly sure what to make of it. So, for now, you let it be.

"Y/N! Move!" Kiara's voice sliced through the humid air, snapping you out of your thoughts. I barely had time to dodge to the left as John B sprinted by, a smug grin on his face as he tossed something small and metallic over his shoulder—probably just to mess with the cops.

Laughing breathlessly, I caught up to the group, JJ pulling me into the Twinkie. His grin stretched across his face as he looked at me, eyes bright with adrenaline. "Look at you, Cameron, running from the cops. Almost like a real Pogue."

I scoffed, swatting his shoulder. "Careful, Maybank, or I'll show you what a real Pogue can do."

He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning, but I could see the gleam in his eye—the one that always seemed to challenge me, even if I didn't know what game I was playing yet.

The four of you took off down the road in the Twinkie, JJ making fun of the helpless officer trailing behind.

I had no idea where the night would take me, but that was the thrill of it, wasn't it?

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

little intro there as a taster of whats to come w this series, but im so so so exicted to get started w this- i already love it and i hope you guys do too, lmk what you think<33

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herefortarlos · 1 day ago

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Just some takeaways from these interviews that feature Ronen, Gina and Brianna!

Enzo will be back in episode 5x08! "We'll probably have to see Enzo in some orange colors, a jumpsuit perhaps because he's in big trouble right now."

Ronen gushing over how cute Jonah was when he says, "Hi, big brother."

Could this be leading to TK and Carlos taking in Jonah? And Ronen's deflecting response of, "I have no idea, that would just, I don't know, I just, I just work here." And looking away from the camera.

Ronen talking about the karaoke scene and having "no idea it was going to be Freddie Mercury, you know one of the most incredible singers of all time. Really talk about under pressure because of course they gave me the Freddie parts. So I was a little nervous because it's one thing to sing karaoke in front of people but this is gonna be watched by millions of people, so I hope I did a good job, and to sing with Henry and then Rob was so iconic... because it's TK and his two dads and how important they both are to him and just crucial to who TK has become as a man...." "They picked Under Pressure for us for a reason, I think the lyrics are very telling."

Talking about the Tarlos photos! "That's gonna be a recurring gif for the rest of time for sure! They knew what they were doing with that one."

Gina does not think Tommy would have stepped away if she had not been hurt like that for her to realize she had to take care of herself.

Brianna and Gina talk about filming the hospital scene! Tommy having to come to terms with leaving a job that means the world to her. "It had so little to do with trusting who I'm going to pass the torch along to and so much more to do with the trust and belief in the woman that's in front of me. And so it was bittersweet...but I know you've (Nancy) got this!"

Ronen saying, "Tommy is Nancy and TK's mama bird. Especially after 5x05." "That scene at the end of 5x07 is so beautifully heart breaking between Gina and Brianna, I just rewatched it again and just started crying on my own, and oh my god, when she asks her to become the temporary Captain..." "But that leads to some really fun stuff for Brianna and I. It's like the kids get to go out on their own now, so you'll see a lot of paramedic calls with just us, which is really fun. But Brianna really holds it down as Captain and we'll see what that leads to Tommy if she can come back or not. There's a lot of intense stuff for Tommy."

Brianna saying, "It's gonna be just TN." "Ronen and I had a lot of fun with the TN dynamic. The kids are taking the car!"

Ronen saying, "TK and Nancy are so close, especially this season, and Brianna and I got really close this season, and I just love her so much and I think you start to see that when we go out on the calls ourselves, and they're gonna be silly little kids, but still professional and so good at what they do and I think that dynamic is going to be really fun to see." "I'm so excited for people to see Brianna really shine and get her moment especially as Paramedic Captain, that's such a huge honor."

Gina talking about the story line Rashad wrote for Tommy this season, "Sometimes it's triumphant and sometimes you don't want to be there... If you're invested in Tommy, it's gonna hurt."

Ronen talking about Carlos' father's murder. "Carlos starts making more progress in the case...and then there's gonna be a few other questions that are going to be brought up that are really going to challenge TK and Carlos."

"Some of the questions are, "Are we ready to take the next step in our relationship?"

"TK fears for his husband's life because Carlos is getting involved with some really bad people, and I think TK vividly remembers seeing his husband almost die when he was kidnapped and I think that's probably an image that plays in his head and I think that's something he never wants to see again. His actions are coming from caring and fear..."

Ronen says TK has at least one scene with Campbell.

Ronen was asked about Judd drinking at his party and if TK will notice with his addiction, and Ronen said, "That leads to an incredible scene between Judd and TK. I think it opens the door for Jim to really shine and another side of Judd we may not have known. It's also just beautiful because Jim in real life is sober and it's a beautiful way for Jim to put his own experiences into that character."

#911 lone star #ronen rubinstein #gina torres #brianna baker #911 lone star spoilers #Another great set of interviews!#Don't @ me for failed spelling 🤣

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tomorrowxtogether · 10 hours ago

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HUENINGKAI: “I learned to love myself thanks to MOA”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.13

He cleared out his favorite hoodies and learned how to handle Cubase with ease. While many things keep on changing, some things are forever constant: the music, the group, and MOA. They are the true passions of HUENINGKAI, whose confident tone reassures us of his commitment to forever.

You cleared out some of your hoodies and stuffed toys—what you called your “horcruxes.” HUENINGKAI: Well, the hoodies were way too small for me anyway. (laughs) I wanted to try out some new styles, too, so I cleared them out. I decided I needed to ditch the hoodies first and try something prettier, including buying some knit sweaters. I also felt I could do away with my old stuffed dolls and replaced them with some new fluffier ones. It’s hard the first time you get rid of stuff, but I found it gets easier after that.

You’ve made a lot of big changes in different areas. You’ve been keeping up with your exercise, even throughout the ACT: PROMISE world tour, forming the TXT Exercise Team and regularly taking “TXD” [today’s exercise done] photos. (laughs) HUENINGKAI: I always take TXD shots. I share them in our group chat. I started working out to boost my self-esteem since they say it helps, and it definitely helps keep my mind off things when all you can think about is how tiring it is! (laughs) You can’t help but lose weight if you box. It’s the only thing that makes me sweat as much as performing in concert. There’s someone on staff who’s been doing CrossFit for a long time, so I recently started too. My goal was never to bulk up and get these huge muscles in the first place but to have a slim build with lean muscles, so CrossFit seems like a good fit for me. And MOA, you don’t have to worry—I’m not going to overdo it. (laughs)

A lot of MOA were surprised the way you threw the guitar during the performance of “Growing Pain” on the ACT: PROMISE tour. HUENINGKAI: My image sure underwent a transformation. (laughs) I wanted to show how even someone like me, who’s usually so pure and soft, has some rock star inside him. I looked up different ways of capturing the idea of smashing up the stage. I initially thought about breaking the guitar, but I figured throwing it would be better. That was all I did early on in the tour, but by the time we took it to the US, I experimented a lot, throwing the pick and flipping my bangs back later on. I was happy I got to show off a different side of myself through all that.

You’ve always had a knack for playing instruments and like playing them for fun. How do feel now that your YouTube series HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band is over? HUENINGKAI: I love playing instruments and being in a band, so I was thrilled to be able to make it. Just holding an instrument in my hands makes me feel happy, and actually interacting with and jamming with a band felt like a quintessentially youthful experience. The whole thing was fun to shoot. It never felt like work to me. I approached it like I was going to hang out with a school band.

What do you think makes being in a band so uniquely appealing? HUENINGKAI: I think it comes down to the eye contact you make while playing together. I think chemistry’s the most important part of a band, and when you’re looking each other the eye and having a good time together, you feel fully united. I feel like rock has the power to make unforgettable memories for both the band playing and their audience. I heard MOA saying they’re interested in playing in bands now or want to get back into learning an instrument. HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band was a huge motivation for me, and it makes me happy thinking it planted the seeds for some great dreams among MOA. I hope they challenge themselves to pursue whatever they want and achieve their goals, whether that’s playing in a band or something else. Just the act of trying something new takes a lot of courage, and if they build up some experience, they can truly enjoy their youth.

What form did that sense of youthfulness take on when you were making the show? HUENINGKAI: It’s the kind of youthful experience you can only experience during your university years, full of excitement, sorrow, and happiness all mixed together. The song “Kitto Zutto” is actually supposed to be about how I felt filming the Yonsei University episode of HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band. I seem to remember working on it between filming episodes two and three. I tried to make the chord progression feel both bright and also have a refreshing, youthful vibe. The very first thing I made was the piano track, but it felt a bit bland, so I turned up the BPM and then it sounded great! The funny thing was that I tried to play at that higher BPM but my fingers couldn’t keep up. (laughs) Since it would’ve been a little bland with just the piano, I felt like it’d be nice to have a catchy melody, so I had a guitar riff repeat from the intro onward. That’s the main highlight of “Kitto Zutto.” The drums gradually build up the sound and create a sense of flow.

How do you think it compares to the first song you produced, “Dear Sputnik”? HUENINGKAI: I’ve grown so much since then. When I was working on “Dear Sputnik,” I didn’t know how to use Cubase, but I used it to make the song this time. It was easy and convenient once I got the hang of it and got better as I used it more and more. Actually, for “Dear Sputnik,” I created the basic structure, but I got a lot of help from other people since it was less than two years since I debuted. I really wanted to contribute a greater share after that, and I did contribute significantly more to “Kitto Zutto.” It’s the first on a path of hard work towards being able to make a song I can truly call my own.

When you had just debuted and you were on Section TV, you said, “Ever since I was a trainee, my one goal has been to make and perform songs that can move people.” To what degree have you achieved your goal? HUENINGKAI: With “Dear Sputnik,” 30%—“Kitto Zutto,” 60%. Right from when I was first writing “Kitto Zutto,” I was thinking about how fun it would be to sing it with MOA in concert. Nothing makes me feel more fulfilled than when I see MOA enjoying a song I produced. When I performed those songs in concert, I went around in front of the audience on the moving stage and could see MOA up close and personal. They all looked so happy. I’m glad I made these songs that MOA can really get into singing along with and that we can touch their hearts with. I think singing them together gives them their final touches. I want to keep making and performing songs that everyone will love and can make them feel happy when they listen to them.

In many ways, the past year has been an excellent showcase of how you’ve grown musically. You really got people talking when you were on Lee Mujin Service and when you performed “BETELGEUSE” on the Nippon TV show THE MUSIC DAY. HUENINGKAI: I got lots of messages from people I know. (laughs) It’s the first time so many people have reached out to me like that. I was grateful but there was something indescribable about it because I feel like I’m still in the process of finding my own voice. I’ve tried singing with something more like rock vocals, and even though I don’t have difficulty hitting high notes, I’ve been thinking carefully about how to make them sound even better. I’d like to find vocals that are a little more unique to me. Obviously being a good singer is important, but I feel like sometimes that individuality is even more important.

You’ve always been a kind person, but you seem pretty strict with yourself. HUENINGKAI: Only when I feel like I’ve perfected a skill can I say that I’ve truly made it mine. I’m sort of a worrier so I practice on my own outside normal rehearsal time. Our new single “Over The Moon” is hard. (laughs) My feeling is, if you want to dance well during live shows, it starts with singing perfectly before you ever even stand up. And when I’m performing onstage, I just think, Just do it like we practiced. I might just end up making mistakes if I try to go beyond that.

I guess “Over The Moon” would’ve been hard since it’s more about making it feel romantic than unfolding a clear sense of progression. HUENINGKAI: It’s not a sad song, but it doesn’t exactly feel cheerful either, so I was aiming for a kind of longing middle ground. I start out singing softly to MOA, almost like a whisper, then add in a touch more of that longing in the chorus. I see “Over The Moon” as me removing the gravelly vocals from “0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You)” featuring Seori and keeping it light.

When watching “Over The Moon,” it reminded me of “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away).” HUENINGKAI: Exactly! It’s got the same ear-tapping move on the line “whisper me my name” as in “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away),” so I ended up watching our old performances for the first time in a while. My image back with “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away)” was meant to evoke the excitement of school days, while in “Over The Moon,” I tried to convey something a little more mature, like a university student.

You also came across as mature the way you led the older members in the 144th episode of TO DO X TXT, “Abandoned Stars,” even though you’re the youngest in the group. HUENINGKAI: That’s probably the most they’ve ever needed me. (laughs) It was scary at first, but I helped them because I felt like they wouldn’t even be able to go in if it weren’t for me. And anyway, it was less scary the second time around. I guess it’s because I’m a levelheaded person. They were clinging to me so desperately I thought my clothes would come off. (laughs) That was a first. But on the inside I was actually kind of glad and thinking about how much they need me.

You also paid YEONJUN a visit when he was shooting the music video for “GGUM.” HUENINGKAI: YEONJUN was the first one of us to do a solo project, and since I wanted to show my support and express my gratitude anyway, I brought some dakgangjeong we could eat together. (laughs) But most of all, I really wanted to learn from him. The stage presence he had as he sang from start to finish all by himself, and watching how naturally he ad-libbed towards the end, was all pretty amazing. (laughs) His solo was a good experience for us, too.

You’ve always emphasized in interviews how you want to be dependable for the rest of the group. What does trustworthiness mean to you? HUENINGKAI: Teamwork. The greater the trust between us, the stronger our group becomes. As a member of a kind of team, it’s always my hope that the other members can continuously rely on me. That’s what being a team is, after all.

And honesty is crucial for mutual trust, of course. In an interview with W Korea, when asked what it takes for a group to last a long time, you said, “Teamwork. Being open with each other about feelings.” HUENINGKAI: I actually never used to talk much about my feelings. I thought things would just work out over time, but now I talk things over with the people I’m close to, like the other members, my family, and the protocol team, no matter what it is. I really listen to their feedback, too. It just feels better that way. But it’s not at all easy to open up about what you’re feeling inside, of course. You can never just be like that from day one. So I just started slowly, and now I’m more open than I was last year.

You posted a letter on weverse for the fifth anniversary of your debut, and in it you talked about how you’ve always been careful to hide your feelings away because you didn’t like to talk about them. What made you decide to open up to MOA? HUENINGKAI: I never wanted to let MOA know when I was having a hard time. I always wanted to show them the good sides only. But the longer we were together, the closer we became, and I realized that also talking about those things was the right way to further develop the relationship. That’s why I was honest and open in what I wrote on weverse on March 4. I resolved to be more honest and open from then on.

It takes a lot of courage to be open like that. How did you find it in you to find the courage? HUENINGKAI: It’s all thanks to MOA’s love. Every time MOA opens up through their fan letters or in person, I can sense their love. The phrase, “my youth is TOMORROW X TOGETHER,” is beautiful, and hearing, “I’ll love you completely for who you are, no matter what—I love you so much,” absolutely fills me with strength. All these people around me were showing me love, but I felt like I didn’t love myself. I learned to love myself thanks to MOA.

It’s clear that you have an immense amount of love toward MOA, too, like when you said, “It may have been hard doing what it took to debut, but I could do it all again 100 times if it meant I could be with MOA.” HUENINGKAI: I wanted to show them just how much I love them. There were a lot of times I felt like giving up before I debuted, but MOA helped me forget all about it. I know what it means to find happiness as an idol thanks to them. I think MOA is what’s made TOMORROW X TOGETHER whole.

#txt #tomorrow x together #241113 #weverse magazine #hueningkai #huening kai #weverse

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