#i have election day off work so im not worried about being up late

[kimjunnoodle]

forgot about DLS and watched the clock go from 1:59am to 1:00am and had to sit for a moment

[cloud-9ine]

Cable Shocks

⤷ pairing - denki kaminari x reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - slight angst, hurt/comfort, illness, exploitation

⤷ summary - you notice the other class 1-a students using denki’s quirk for their favours, and you catch him later paying the price

⤷ word count - 3.2k+

Denki Kaminari was a giver.

He gave his help, he gave his laughter, he gave his love, and recently, he was beginning to give himself, too.

It started off innocently: he showed the Class 1-A students his party trick- look at that, he can charge phones! After that, the others had regularly come to him in need of their devices being charged, or electricity constantly pumped into something that only he could provide. And Denki, being a giver, well, he never said no.

It didn’t matter to him that it would make him short circuit, it didn’t matter to him that they would laugh, it didn’t even matter to him that all he could taste every evening was acid.

Denki Kaminari was a giver, and he was prepared to give his life.

Your class common room was never empty. At any given time, there was always at least two of your classmates in there- no exceptions. If you wanted to make tea in the early morning, Iida and Yaoyorozu would greet you with beaming grins unbecoming of such an unnatural time. Alternatively, if you wanted to cry at 3 AM, you would lay your eyes on Tokoyami and Jirou plunged into the darkness, leaving you to wonder whether they were just acting off or if they were summoning a demon to curse those who have wronged them.

At this moment, Denki was sat on the centre sofa, three cables stuck between his teeth. Beside him sat Mina, eagerly chatting to Kirishima who sat opposite to her on a plush chair with Sero lounged over the arm of it. The three looked content, but you couldn’t help but notice the stiffness at which Denki was disposed, concentration knotting his brows as he worked on keeping the sparks flowing through the wires.

You slipped into the room, deciding on the space on the other side of Denki. The other occupants of the room gave you a quick hello before returning to their previous conversations. With the exception of Denki, obviously, who seemingly forgot his task the moment he heard your name mentioned. His eyes sparkled once he saw you, his head turning to the side as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Hey, Kaminari, you’re dropping the wires!” Sero snickered, eyeing up the way Denki looked down in alarm.

“Only 27%? Come on, I need more than that!” Mina whined, shoving the cables back into the spooked boy’s mouth. He looked at you apologetically, attempting to convey something with wild gestures that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. You laughed, patting the top of his head to quell his struggles.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just chill, yeah?” He paused, dropping his hands to his lap and nodding. You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his before pulling your phone out. Denki squinted at the object, as if it had personally offended him. Grinning, you shook your head.

“Fully charged. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” His expression softened, cheeks glowing a slight pink at your words. You shifted slightly to get more comfortable, ending up slumped against Denki’s side, who in return leaned into you.

“And so basically, I told him he was nuts, right?” The careless ramblings of Mina was enough to get you to relax, scrolling aimlessly through your friend’s Instagram posts. Ochako had posted a weirdly aesthetic picture of mochi, Midoriya had posted a picture of Ochako, Iida was posting about cyber-bullying, the works.

Being in physical contact with Denki while he was in charging mode, you noticed, made your hair float up like static electricity. You didn’t mind this, taking to flattening down your hair every once in a while during your relaxation. It was easy to let go with your classmates- the gentle lull of the voices of the others mixed with the pleasant buzz of Denki’s skin against yours made for a comforting experience that almost made you fall asleep.

“Hey dunce face!” Denki jumped at the sound of Bakugo’s voice, his elbow jutting into your side and forcing you to tense up. He didn’t seem to notice your subtle glare, however, as his attention was focused on the other boy that had slammed open the door (not that Bakugo seemed entirely angry today, but it was just his natural disposition that made every action of his aggressive).

“H-Hey bro! What’s up?” Bakugo didn’t respond to Kirishima’s words, further ignoring the similar muffled greeting that Denki managed to let out.

“I need this charged,” he grumbled, moving to Denki and shoving a fourth wire in his mouth. You frowned, eyeing up the two boys wearily. The screens of the current phones flashed, an indication that he wasn’t putting in enough charge. He gulped as Bakugo stomped back out the room, his eyes squeezing shut as he amped up the electricity.

As if a switch had been flipped, Denki’s blonde locks frizzed up before succinctly falling back down to his head. You stared at him, eyes widened as the wires dropped to the ground.

“Wheeeee!” His body fell into you, thumbs sticking out with a goofy smile painted onto his face. A small smile pushed passed your lips as you grabbed a pillow and placed it under his head just as he fell off your shoulder and into your lap.

“Oh my god! He’s buzzed out!” Mina cackled, grabbing her phone to snap a couple of photos as the others laughed.

“I love the guy, but my god is he dumb.” You bit your lip at Sero’s grin, angling Denki’s head away from the camera and raking your hands through his hair. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling his face into your stomach as he rambled about something to do with being okay. It was hard to understand him in this state.

“Come on guys, not cool.” You mumbled, using your sleeve to wipe away a bit of drool on Denki’s chin.

“Ah, cheer up (Y/N)! He does this all the time- it doesn’t matter!” Kirishima’s words made a pit coil in your stomach, nausea prickling your throat.

“It doesn’t matter. Leave him alone.” Mina rolled her eyes.

“God, it’s not a big deal. It’s his own fault, anyway.” You couldn’t help the annoyance that fuelled the glare in your eyes, but you pushed it down with a harder bite to the inside of your cheek. There was the burst of something metallic that tinged your tongue, but you ignored it.

“Come on, Denki. Let’s go,” said boy didn’t seem to recognise your words until you propped him up so you could stand up before pulling him off the sofa. Seemingly slightly resigned by your actions, Mina dropped her phone into her lap, looking away. This didn’t stop the other two from laughing, however, the volume of their cackles only increasing as Denki fell into your back.

With a groan, you shoved your shoulder into the door to open it and letting Denki clamber through. You painstakingly led him into his dorm room, redirecting him away from every wall he tried to run into and each piece of furniture he rammed into his abdomen. Your phone was blowing up with notifications, but you elected to ignore that as you made sure he didn’t hit his head as he fell onto his bed.

You wrote him a quick note and stuck it on his door, turning around to make one last check that he wasn’t going to kill himself the moment you stepped out the door.

Come find me when you’re back to normal.

“(Y/N)…” he whined, hands reaching out for you as he rolled onto his side, eyes sparkling once he saw you. You sighed, moving to brush a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” It didn’t seem like he quite understood what you said, but the compliant nod and shining smile was enough to convince you he would be okay.

AlienQueen: [ATTACHMENT SENT]

[TheRaven, StarMan, MyChemicalHeadphones and 10 others liked this photo]

PinkQueen: guys!! look at kami asjadoawdhd

ALiteralRock: haha! you shoulda been there

Froggi: He’s been doing that more lately

Invisibitch: Good! It’s so funny!

PinkCake: hes so cute <33

GreenCake: It’s interesting how Denki has been ‘buzzing out’ more, but I suppose if he’s been using his quirk more often outside of training he could be slowly building a resistance.

BoomBoomBoy: Shut up.

IidaTenya: I sure hope he is safe!

TapeMan: nah, (Y/N) got im

You didn’t see Denki for the rest of the day.

When you stirred from your sleep, it was still dark. You felt a warmth building below your skin that spurred you to strip of your blanket, allowing it to fall into a crumpled heap onto the floor before creeping out the room. In the dead silence of the night, each one of your footfalls sounded like a bang to a drum.

The common room was empty that night. You squinted through the darkness, feeling your way to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. You stilled in the quiet for a moment, letting the movement settle as you took a sip. There was always a sort of ringing once it got quiet enough, a small reminder that despite the fact you were alone in the dark, there was still something going on.

Click.

At the end of the hall, a light turned on, the orange glow a stark contrast from the deep shadows that plagued the area. You heard a quiet shuffling, before a muffled gagging sound rang out.

Eyes widening, you rushed as quietly as you could down the hall, nearly crashing into the door as you shoved your way into the bathroom.

Hunched over the sink, chest racking with coughs and gags was Denki, his eyes teary as they struggled to focus on you. A dark substance, almost completely black if it were not for the slightest translucency, dripped from his parted lips and into the basin, clashing against the pure white marble.

You clapped a hand to your mouth, willing down the tears that welled in your eyes.

“Denki… what?” You choked out, voice hoarse from the dryness that stung your throat. Denki attempted to push himself up, hands trembling and knuckles white as he gripped the side of the countertop.

“(Y/N)…” his voice shook as he reached up to wipe his mouth, taking a step back from you in a vain bid to pass you and leave. You quickly snapped the door shut, no longer caring whether you woke anyone up.

Click.

Denki weakly chuckled at the look on your face. The lock. He closed himself into the corner of the room, pressing his back against the wall.

“Look, I’m fine-“ He was cut off by himself, lurching back over the sink and coughing up more of the liquid.

“What is that?” You questioned, silent horror pinching your features. He turned on the tap, filling his hands with water and washing out his mouth. Darting to the toilet- and struggling to move in such closed quarters- you balled up a handful of toilet paper and wiped his mouth. He leaned into your touch, skin emanating heat and covered by a thin sheen of sweat.

“Battery acid.” You felt your knees go weak.

“What?”

“It’s battery acid. The more I overuse my quirk, the more likely this stuff is to accumulate in my throat,” he looked away from your piercing gaze, “it’s okay, really.”

“What part of this is okay?” You spat, voice wavering. Denki winced at your tone, turning to washing his mouth out with more water, “Does it hurt?” He paused, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, only the sound of running water interspersed the atmosphere. You reached over and turned it off, not acknowledging the shrill screech of the metal as you levelled Denki with an even stare.

“It’s from the charging.” He muttered, and your knuckles clenched.

“Of-fucking-course.” He cringed, a clammy palm feebly gripping your forearm. His eyes were desperate, frown twisting his expression into something you couldn’t bear to look at.

“Please, (Y/N), it’s okay,” he begged, a tear slipping out of his eye just at the same time you felt one trail down your cheek.

“It’s not okay, Denki. How long has this been happening?” He fell silent, and you could feel the anxiety coiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Four months.” In a split-second decision, you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body into his. He nestled his face into your neck, hands coming to rest on your hips. Seemingly unable to keep it together any long, he crumbled, chest stuttering with every breath and his tears soaking the skin that was exposed by your nightshirt.

The silence of midnight began to creep in once again, only broken by the soft whimpers and sobs of the boy practically clutching onto you. You waited as long as you needed to until Denki had caught his breath, not counting the minutes yet painfully aware of each one as it passed.

“From now on, if someone asks you to charge anything, you say no, okay?” Denki frowned, rubbing away the tears in his eyes.

“I-“

“From now on, if someone asks you to charge anything, you say no, got it?” You spat, voice much firmer and tone a lot more sharp. He gulped, resigning to nodding with a sullen expression on his face.

“Are you good to go back to sleep? Or is there anything I need to do first?”

“It’s fine. You can go back now, don’t stay up for any longer.”

“I will do what I want, thanks.” you seethed, eyes glinting. Denki looked taken aback, glancing over your expression wearily.

“Uh…” “I am not going back to sleep unless you’re coming with me. You’re such an idiot-” you paused, “-but you’re my idiot, and there’s no way I’m letting the others treat you like this,“ you cupped his face, fingers pressing into pink cheeks as you angled his face to look at you, “if they want anything else from you, they have to go through me first.” Agape, he only nodded again, allowing you to grab his hand and pull him out the room.

Once he flicked the light off, the two of you were awash in darkness once again, but this seemed not to deter you. Rather, you traipsed across the corridor with a ridiculous amount of determination, only narrowly avoiding the various obstructions in the shadows.

“Here, let me light-“ Despite the little he could see, Denki could practically feel your burning glare. Bringing his hand down, he murmured an apology, musing in your little nod of satisfaction he could feel the motions of.

It only took you a few minutes to get to your room, pushing him inside and closing the door behind you. In spite of everything, Denki could feel heat rushing to his cheeks for an entirely different reason than his fever.

“(Y/N)?” He squeaked, hearing you fumble around the room yet not finding courage to stay anything but completely frozen.

“Yeah?” You questioned, voice low but feeling remarkably pleasant to his ears.

“This isn’t my room.”

“I know.”

“So why am I here?”

“Because I’m not leaving you alone. Come on, I’ve got the spare pillow.”

Denki currently didn’t have the energy to feel shame about the sparks excitement that welled up inside of him as he rushed to the sound of you getting on your bed. You held the blanket up for him, and he all but fell down next to you. The pounding of his heart was almost enough to distract him from the acrid burning of his throat.

You were warm, almost too warm as he shifted to be closer to you. Now that his eyes were getting adjusted, he could make out the expression on your face, eyebrows knotted in concern and eyes scanning all over him, as if searching for some sort of answer that he could only long to give you.

“I’m sorry.” He said it as if it meant anything. If it counted, he truly was. Denki didn’t want to make you worry- he wasn’t worth it. But that’s what you did. He would give too much, and you would worry tenfold.

It didn’t help that his eyes were still stinging and red-rimmed, or every once in a while a dry cough would tickle his throat. It didn’t help that he would wince every time he had to swallow, or that his palms were still clammy and he had to try to subtly wipe them on his shorts. It didn’t help that the pain almost became too much to handle, and he loved you too much to even lie about it.

He loved you- of course he did. How could he not? It was you. You, who stared at him with such adoration, even though he knew you were pissed off. You, who stood up for him even to his friends. You, who worried for him the first time he was buzzed out, and a thousand times later, still stayed with him and ran your fingers through his hair when he was barely conscious.

He watched your eyes strain to stay open, to keep watching him as he was watching you. Finally, they fluttered shut, your breathing evening out as you shuffled closer to him.

You, who got up in the middle of the night to protect him from himself.

He tucked your head under his chin, wrapping his arms around you waist with a gentle sigh. Under the cover of darkness, he confessed this. His words fell on deaf ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

You, who, unlike anyone else, was determined to make him stop giving.

He couldn’t help but fall asleep, the sound of your soft breathing and the gentle rise and fall of your chest like a lullaby willing his eyes to close, comforted by the presence of your figure cuddled to his chest.

Denki Kaminari was a giver. And if there was anyone worth giving anything, it was you.

Extra:

Bakugo was not expecting to start his day in a chokehold.

It had started off innocently, Denki was playing a game on his phone, smug grin on his face, you were napping next to him, and the other losers he called his friends were on the sofas, eyes wide and backs straight. Sure, you could say he questioned the strange way his friends were acting, but he didn’t particularly care.

“Pikabitch, I need my phone-“

Bakugo prided himself on his quick instincts, but you were quicker.

In a second, your arm was wrapped around his throat, face dark and pressure increasing through his gasps.

“Say one more fucking word and you’re dead.” You growled, Bakugo’s fingers gripping your arm in a vain attempt to release himself from your hold, “Got it?” The blonde just managed to nod, coughing out once your arm withdrew from his neck. You settled back in your place beside Denki, sending him another sharp glare before returning to your nap.

Bakugo could only stare wide eyed, not quite sure what happened. All he could gather was that Denki was now off limits, and the others seemed to realise that too, if them cringing was anything to go by. With a gulp, he stormed out the common room.

Now he had to go get his charger.

[alyasgf]

She

mlb masterlist

ao3

Summary- she by dodie alyanette songfic!

alya has a huge crush on marinette, like huge, but she knows it’s unrequited.

Word Count- 1354

Notes- kinda short, but im trying to get alyanette out of my system because i have like twenty other prompts i want to get to :’)

Begin

Am I allowed to look at her like that

Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at

When Alya first saw her she couldn’t help but stare. She was beautiful. With her mesmerizing sky blue eyes and dark blue pigtails, Alya couldn’t help but stop in the doorway to admire her. After watching her for a minute she noticed the blonde girl beside her who seemed to be yelling.

It was only then that she took the chance to make her first impression.

“Hey! Who elected you Queen of Seats?”

Okay so maybe not her best line, but it seemed to work. As she pulled the girl away she could feel the nerves seep away. The blue haired girl seemed clumsy, but good natured. She learned the girl’s name, (“Marinette.” She told her as they shared a macaroon,) and even after the absolute insanity of the day, over superheroes and villains, all Alya could think about was her.

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep She tastes like apple juice and peach

You would find her in a polaroid picture And she means everything to me

After months of sharing secrets and sharing time, Alya and Marinette were easily each other's closest confidants. They’d spend almost every spare moment together. Marinette would groan and complain about her boy problems and Alya would scheme with her on new ways to finally catch Adrien’s attention.

Sure, at first it hurt to hear the girl she had a massive crush on talk about the boy she was in love with, but once Alya accepted that her feelings would never be reciprocated, it became easier.

Still, there were moments when Alya swore they could be something more.

It had only happened a few times. Only late into their sleepovers, and always platonic to Marinette. Small kisses that were followed with giggles and jokes.

“Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to kiss a girl? “ Marinette asked one night, after hours of movies and sweets.

Alya choked. “What?” She sputtered. She had to be dreaming, surely Marinette hadn’t just said what she thought she said.

“You heard me.” She replied, laughing. “Not that I’ve spent too long thinking about it, or like specifics or anything, but I don’t know, it's an experience?”

“Sure, I’ve thought about it.” Alya said absentmindedly, brain replaying each and every one of the fantasies in which her best friend featured in. “Just a few times.”

“Well, would you want to? Y’know, with me?”

Again, Alya lost control of her breathing. Her heart began to race and palms began to sweat. Was this really happening?

“Oh c’mon,” Marinette laughed again, now at her friend’s shocked expression. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s just if I were to have my first girl kiss with anyone, I’d want it to be you.”

Alya tried not to focus on how she worded that question. ‘First girl kiss.’ Would there be more? More importantly, would Alya share the experience with her more than once?

She looked at her friend. She was red, and where there was once a playful, curious expression there was an unsure one, red from blushing.

“I’m sorry. I probably made you uncomfortable, didn’t I?” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, face getting impossibly more red. “It’s fine, you don’t have to, I-”

“No, I want to!” Alya blurted out, worried she had ruined her one chance. “I mean, I’m not uncomfortable with it if you aren’t.” She added hastily. A million thoughts ran through her head at once. ‘Am I actually going to kiss Marinette? Is this a dream? Dear god tell me I’m not dreaming.’

“Okay!” Marinette said excitedly, as her expression changed to one of excitement. Alya nearly swooned at that. Marinette looked that way at the prospect of kissing her. She could barely breathe.

Alya’s brain short circuited. She wasn’t sure how it happened, one second she was gazing into Marinette’s eyes, the next there was a quick press of peach flavored lips on hers. It was over in an instant.

Marinette laughed while Alya attempted to draw out her usual confident self amidst the red cheeks and lingering taste of fruit.

They always laid close at the end of each sleepover, Alya’s face buried in Marinette’s hair as the smaller girl snored lightly on her chest. She smelled of strawberries and pastries always, but in moments like these it was so strong Alya couldn’t help but be reminded how deeply she had fallen in love.

She was picture perfect in every light. Eyes always so full of hope and a creative glint. Her smile and willingness to help nearly everyone made her personality that much more magnetic. Her hands were always warm, always soft, save for the occasional cut or two from her clumsiness while designing.

Alya couldn’t remember life before her, and couldn’t begin to imagine being without her. She was like a drug, so immersive and addicting that Alya would never be able to stay away for long. She was her best friend, but more than that, she was her soulmate, and if that had to be platonic, so be it. Marinette was just like that, so appealing that people wanted to be around her in any way they possibly could, in any form they possibly could.

I'd never tell

No I'd never say a word

And oh it aches

But it feels oddly good to hurt

Love. Even though she felt it so strongly whenever Marinette was near, she was content in keeping the emotions to herself. Marinette was frustratingly straight, between Luka and Adrien, she didn’t stand a chance. The only thing that would result from a confession would be confusion and unrequited feelings.

So instead Alya stole moments when she could. A few long glances, kisses in the dark, hugs that lasted a second longer than normal, these were what she could get, this was what she lived for. The rush she would get from it, for just a second tricking herself into believing that they were anything more than moments between friends.

But then the second would pass, and all she would be left with was a dull aching in her chest to pull her back into reality. It hurt, hurt more than anything in the world sometimes, but she would never trade the feeling, it reminded her she was alive, reminded her how colorful the world could be by Marinette’s side.

and I'll be okay

Admiring from afar

Cause even when she's next to me

We could not be more far apart

Cause she tastes like birthday cake and storytime and fall

But to her

I taste of nothing at all

Sometimes the feelings would overwhelm her, late at night long after Marinette had wished her goodnight over the phone, with an ‘I love you’ that stripped Alya’s heart down to it’s core knowing it would never be meant in the way she always dreamt it’d be. She’d clutch her pillow, tears streaming down her face.

Deep down she knew it was all a lie. Of course she wasn’t content with keeping her feelings bottled up, but what choice did she have? Marinette would never feel the same way in a million years, no matter how much she loved Alya, it would always be through the lens of friendship and nothing more.

As close as they were, there would always be a disconnect. Miles and miles of unspoken words, longing stares, and kisses that ended far too soon. Marinette would always see these at surface value, with nothing more to be discovered.

For Alya, Marinette was a warm bed after a long day, a warm cup of tea in a furious winter storm, a bright spot in an otherwise dull world. For Marinette, Alya was just a friend. A close, irreplaceable friend who she loved more than anything, but a friend nonetheless.

Alya would drift off to sleep with dreams of firsts with Marinette, while Marinette dreamt of another.

She was meant to be with Adrien, and Alya was meant to watch from afar, forever dreaming of a love from a girl that would never see her in that light.

End Notes- btw marinette totally likes her but repressed sapphic vibes, yknow? sorry they didnt end up together but if you want some resolution i have a fic where they are happy together that you can find here!

[yeoldontknow]

🖊writerly conversation tag

tagged by @j-pping to do this amazing interview/reflections tag. of course she put together one of the most amazing tags ever because she is brilliant. thank you for tagging me angel! 

questions below the cut!

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

gosh...i think for me the hardest bit was staying both motivated and inspired. a lot of my inspiration comes from being out in the world. im an introvert but i enjoy being out in the city around the noise and the people and the buildings on my own. the majority of my writing used to be done while riding the subway or on a weekend after id gone out somewhere. a lot of my fics are inspired by locations, and experiences within those locations. being inside for the majority of the year made it hard for me to remember how...people interact with or relate to the spaces around them. so i felt like a lot of the time staying inspired was coming from places within just me that felt inauthentic. i think my writing benefits from my ability to see multiple perspectives, so i felt like a lot of dialogue or writing itself was suffering just coming from me alone. it took a lot of work to ensure that it wasnt like that. 

and then, motivation was also so hard. the internet and the news and everything about america, the planet, the everything was unrelenting and draining. we as people were privy to so much trauma this year, to the collapse and fracture of communities, lives, governments. there were several weeks at the end of may and into june where i just...couldnt. i had no energy for anything. it happened again in november after the election and the windfall of it. energetic tensions were so high it just felt so hard to push out words when things were breaking everywhere. like there were more important things i needed to focus on, and healing was one of them.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

i enjoyed the new community of writers/friends i found by writing for bts again. they challenged me and pushed me to better myself. @jamaisjoons is so inspirational in the way she generates community and encourages relationships between storytellers. doing the summer bucket list pushed me out of my hermit hole for camp nano, and i cranked out molotov cocktail and felt so proud of it. it mattered so much to me because it was the first long thing id written after a period of feeling deceased, and it was so enjoyable because there was a sense of community around it. its easy to forget how essential having a support system in your creative community is.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

probably ciperion. words cannot express how proud i am of that story and the direction its going in. i read it back sometimes and i realize that my writing was elevated because of that piece. tbh molotov was responsible for that lift, but ciperion was just a whole other tier. ive also never written anything like that story before and it felt so good exploring the themes of seafaring and pirates. 

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

that i absolutely am someone who took for granted how inspiring the world is even if i see it as a stressor. but also that writing isnt necessarily about being inspired. its about pushing on when its hard. some of my best pieces came from that kind of push this year. 2020 felt like...a slog through most of it, but i kept pushing myself to write even when i was low and tired. i realized that some of my best writing comes from that push, when its not easy and when its difficult and i have to think harder. thats where i grow. 

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

i think im more syntax and detailed focused than i used to be. lately ive been experimenting with making the act of reading feel like pleasure. my favourite books are the ones where i read a sentence, and im moved because it felt nice to read or it felt powerful. the sentence itself had power, not the image it was trying to convey. somehow separate, if that makes sense. theres a lot i need to learn before i could go off comfortably and try to write a book, and this is what ive been trying to master. my attention to detail has grown, and sometimes i think thats a detriment. i think sometimes im too detailed and i dont leave my reader enough power on their own. im still finding that balance, but i think im pleased right now with what im trying to push myself to master.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

ive had two books in my mind forever. one was originally being written as a fanfic in a different fandom before i stopped and realized its too big and so much more important, and is worth being a book id like to write. if i wrote an opus like this it would actually be a book id submit to publishers but ~

- hundreds of years in the future, society has learned how to cure most diseases. for those we cannot, the sick person can be cryogenically frozen for a period of time until a cure is found. there is, however, a limit to the length of time they are frozen. no one has ever been frozen for over 100 years, and the main character is a scientist embarking on the experiment to do just that. it is, effectively, time travel. the main character is rash, selfish, sarcastic - not a very nice person; invested in their work and science and little else. they freeze themselves and wake up in the future. during their time in rehab they have to confront the horror theyve made of themselves, the horror people have made of the future, learn to be vulnerable. they end up falling in love with another scientist etc etc. theres so much more to this story and the world is enormous. one day ill revisit it

- a fictional play on orpheus in the underworld where a female main character’s brother was sold by their mother to the goddess of the underworld (helena instead of hades) for eternal youth. the gods all live in a hotel (the concept of this main thing is being used in elysian fields but its not remotely the same) after they were removed from the heavens. main character (ophelia) must gather several totems from the gods to prove her worth and survive her trip into the underworld to rescue him. id like to not focus on a woman finding romance, and instead a woman finding herself, her strength, her devotion to family, her power, and connecting with her history.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

this year id like to find balance, like i mentioned above, with my need for detail and my trust in my readers. the balance between detail and dialogue. i want to try to condense my writing again so not everything is a goddamn series. the ideas i have are huge and thats great but i need to remember how to parse things again, while still maintaining impact.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

i want more community, in general. as a multi fan, i see pockets in the kpop fandom where it exists and im well and truly aware that its recently become incredibly hard to foster on the exo side. ill just say that. maybe i dont witness it or its happening amongst blogs i havent found or have not found me. i want to see less dialogue about ‘popular blogs,’ whatever that means; less focus on notes; less worries about statistics. i want people to remember that fandom is not about numbers, and the moment you make it about that is the moment you stop having fun. i want less fear from writers regarding sharing work they read and liked, less shame around it. i want to see more vocal communication for the things people like and don’t like, more engagement and more interaction. the concept of popular blogs is so ridiculous to me, because no one has any control over the metrics. no one has control over who follows them or reads their work except the person doing the actual reading. i want people to realize they hold so much power - a person with 10k notes has as much power as a person with 2 notes because sharing is what fosters community. i want this fandom to remember to share again.

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

gosh i really love postmodernism in writing. think like mark z danielewski, who plays with the shapes of words or the act of holding a book - the physicality of it. id like to maybe write a choose your own adventure, or do something that encompasses multiple platforms. or even, more importantly, finish as still as sound and time runner. those are more reasonable goals. time runner actually is done, i just need to stop pressuring myself about it and edit it to get it up. asas, too, is largely done i just need to get my ass together. i have so many other ideas no one has ever seen i need to finish what ive started. thats a real goal.

tagging: @yehet-me-up @jamaisjoons @kyungseokie @jenmyeons @luffles424 @yoonia @shadowsremedy @chillingkoo @onherwings @inkedtae @ninibears-erigom @imdifferentshadesofpurple @readyplayerhobi @ditzymax @sugaurora @snackhobi @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @xjoonchildx @johobi and anyone else who wants to do this. as always please only do so if comfortable or you want to!

[hrina]

And They Were Roommates

A semi-crack fic featuring bi!Reader x female!OC and awkward Harry

Written for #majorharry20k

Disclaimer: I have no idea how washing machines work. I don’t know if this is even plausible. Just go with it. Also, im very bisexual, so I’m not fetishizing it or anything. Just thought I should mention that too. I intended this to be about 1k and it ended up being 

 Prompts:

1 – “that’s by far the dumbest thing you’ve ever done”

3- “our water bill is going to be through the roof after this”

23 – “Great. I’m soaked.”

To Cass: Hi. You don’t know me, and I prefer to stay anonymous (I’m not the butterfly anon I promise). I’ve been following your blog for a while, since you were a 5sos blog, and I love your writing. I do write, but until now I haven’t written for Harry. Your prompts inspired me. I’m so happy you reached 20k, you deserve it. Hope you enjoy <3  

“It’s broken.”

“Wha’d’ya mean it’s broken?”

“I mean broken. Doesn’t work. No longer functions. How many definitions do you want.”

Harry shakes his head in disbelief. “How on Earth do you break a washing machine?”

In his disbelief, he misses your and Val’s faces turning red.

“I guess- maybe- we put too many clothes in?” Val stammers.  “The landlord will fix it though right? Isn’t it in our lease agreement?” 

Harry shakes his head again. “I’m pretty sure we’re responsible for our own broken appliances.”

“That’s a shit deal,” you jump in for the first time. Harry’s eyes land on you. A couple beats pass, enough for it to become almost awkward. His gaze is intense up until the moment he breaks the silence.

“Yeah, well, we weren’t exactly master negotiators when we moved in. The rent was so low we figured it was worth it.” You’ve heard the story of how Val and Harry became roommates many times from her. How they had been put together for a group project at school, but neither had wanted to meet at their own place, so they ended up always meeting at a coffee shop. How they had become fast friends, meeting up for coffee after the project was over, and opening up to one another about how campus housing had screwed them over. Harry had complained about living with boys, how they were messy, never cleaned up after themselves, ate all his food, and most importantly (and disgustingly) left used condoms everywhere. He had basically been the house cook and maid for the majority of the year. 

Val’s roommates, well, they weren’t outwardly homophobic, but it was little jabs at her that added up over time. Cliché comments like ‘you don’t want to date me, do you?’ and things like being okay with being undressed around each other, but getting weird around Val. By midterm first semester, she had been sleeping in your room more times than not. You would have let her move in, but understandably, your roommates weren’t too happy about another body in your already-too-tight room. So, after the first year of housing was over, Val and Harry had pooled funds and with a bit of luck, mixed with the fact that Harry’s stepdad knew a guy, they managed to find a cute little apartment not too far from the school. An apartment that they lived in to this day, three years later. 

Although you were over there quite a lot (who wouldn’t prefer an apartment over campus housing?), you and Harry had never really become close. Sure, you two would be in proximity during group outings, but you spent most of your time there in Val’s room, and whenever you were in the kitchen or living room, Harry seemed to be busy in his room. You originally thought he didn’t like you, but when you asked Val about it, she assured you that he liked you just fine, though she acknowledged that he was a bit weird around you sometimes. It only got worse after the time he had accidentally walked in on you and Val.

You and Val had a very close relationship – but you had both agreed you were better off as friends. But friendships can have benefits, can’t they? Besides, the times you hooked up were scarce – only when you were both in between partners, which, admittedly, wasn’t very often for you. The time Harry had caught you was right after you had broken up with your boyfriend after finding out that he had been seeing another girl. You had been angry and frustrated, and in need of some sort of release. Val, who rarely dated, was willing to help out. 

You don’t think Harry had seen much, but you had only realized that he had seen something when you heard the bedroom door slam. After that, he had had a hard time meeting your eyes. You couldn’t for the life of you understand why though, he certainly wasn’t a blushing virgin himself. You had been there to see off quite a few of his one-night stands trying to sneak out in the morning. 

To be fair, you were also usually there for the same reason, just a different roommate. The difference was instead of sneaking out in the morning, you’d stay for the day. And usually the following night. And sometimes even the night after that. Val had told you that given the amount of times she slept at yours during the first year, you were entitled to stay over whenever you wanted, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. There’d been quite a few times when you’d arrive at their apartment late at night, drunk out of your mind, to borrow some of Val’s clothes while you slept on their couch. The washing machine came in handy, as you could normally throw your clothes from the night before in with one of their loads. That was actually how you and Val discoveredotheruses for the washing machine. 

It really had been a complete accident. You and Val had gone to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer, but there was still two minutes left on the machine. Instead of leaving and coming back, you and Val elected to just wait it out (because if you left there was no question that you’d forget for the next couple of hours). You sat down in the only chair in the room, so Val decided it was a good idea to hop onto the washing machine itself. Turns out it was a good idea. The second her ass landed, the machine started rattling worse than before and her face contorted into pleasure. You jumped up, for a second thinking she might be in pain, before she used an arm to push you away, signaling that she was okay. 

“What’s going on?” The confusion was clear in your voice. In lieu of an answer, Val just looked up at you, her eyes dark. One of her hands came down to rest between her thighs, supporting her body weight as the machine continued to buck. Realization dawned on you as she let out a groan not dissimilar to one she had let out with you a couple hours earlier. Her hand that wasn’t supporting her came around the back of your head, dragging your lips to hers. 

That day had started something for you two. After it, you and Val spent a lot of time in the laundry room. It had become almost a routine, every time a new load went in, you and Val would stay in the room for at least 15 minutes longer than you needed to. If Harry noticed, he didn’t say anything.

In the next couple of months, the routine became more of a tradition. Clothes in the house were cleaner than ever. Loads gradually progress from just lights and darks to six different categories: light delicates, dark delicates, light regulars, dark regulars, denim, and sheets. The more loads, the more time you guys had. Normally you took turns, with one of you lending the other a hand (no pun intended), but this time, Val had gotten so worked up, that she jumped up with you. Apparently, the weight of two girls plus the stress of constantly running had been too much for the old machine. It sputtered, and then shut off. You had glanced over your shoulder, hoping that maybe the cycle had just ended, though you knew it was too early. Your stomach sank as you saw the knobs frozen halfway through the cycle. You and Val stared at each other with wide eyes. And that’s how you came to be where you are right now, trying to find a reasonable explanation for Harry as to why his washing machine is broken.

Which, by the way, is much easier said than done. As his green eyes bore into you, your mind scrambles to think up an explanation, but you’re drawing blanks. You look over at Val for help, but she looks just as lost as you are. She does a better job of putting on a confident mask though. 

“D’you think you can fix it?” She asks Harry. You see it for what it is – an attempt at deflection. 

Harry snorts. “Sure, let me just use my many years of mechanical experience to – oh wait.” 

“Ok wise guy, at least you used to be a baker?”

Harry stares at her. “What does that have anything to do with a washing machine?”

“Because ovens …?”

Harry continues to stare at her. 

“Could you at least take a look at it?” You jump in. His gaze turns to you. For a moment, you worry you’ve offended him, before he bows his head in a slight nod and steps to stand in front of the machine. 

“Ok, well, first off, how much of your laundry do you have left?” 

You think. “Well, I think we were only halfway through the third cycle, so-“  “Woah woah woah wait hold on.” Harry stops you. “Only? Third?How many cycles were you planning on doing?”

“Uh,” You count in your head. “Six?” You look over at Val for confirmation, and she nods. 

“Six?!” You suppose you understand Harry’s incredulity. In hindsight, six might be a bit excessive.  “Why on earth would you need to do six cycles?” This time, he directs it at Val. 

She flounders to come up with an excuse. “Uh, well, gotta sort colors, you know…” She trails off

“Yeah but six loads? What, do you guys get off on doing laundry or something?” He says it sarcastically, but both your and Val’s faces instantaneously turn red. 

“No.” He whispers. Neither of you answer. You start studying the pattern of tiles on the floor. “What, is this like a- a laundry kink? Is that even a thing?” Val’s head snaps up. “No, dumbass. Laundry kink is not a thing.”

“Well sorryfor assuming having sex in a laundry room means- “

“Oh for God’s sake we weren’t even having sex!”

“Ok well getting each other off – “

“We weren’t getting each other off!” That seems to stop Harry short. He gives Val a questioning look, encouraging her to go on. 

“We- the washing machine- it,” she stumbles over her words. “Y’know it- vibrates?”

“No.” Harry drags his hands down over his face. “There’s no way you two have been using our washing machine as a vibrator.” 

You look up, guilty expression all over your face. 

“That’s gross. This is by far the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, and Val, that’s saying a lot for you. Guys, I do my laundry here, I want my clothes to be clean- “

Val tries to defend you two. “We clean up! Also, I thought most straight guys loved the idea of two girls- “

“I’m not most straight guys. Also forgive me if I’m not too keen on the idea of my roommate and her girlfriend in the laundry room – “

“Wait girlfriend?”

“Yes?” “Do- do you think we’re dating?”

“Well, aren’t you?” “Harry no.” The corners of Val’s mouth tug up in a smile, as the tide of embarrassment starts turning in her favor.

“Guys? Maybe focus on one problem at a time? We kind of have a bigger issue.” You step in, gesturing at the washing machine. 

Harry turns to you. “So you’re single? I mean-” He looks back and forth between you and Val. “You both are?” “Yes? But like (Y/N) said, bigger problems.” Val pats the washing machine. “Weren’t you about to take a look?”

Harry takes a couple more seconds to respond. His gaze holds yours once again, before he shakes his head as if to clear off cobwebs and starts examining the washing machine. 

You look over to Val to see her staring back at you. You widen your eyes comically and lift your eyebrows. She shakes her head in a silent laugh. You have a feeling in years to come, you might be able to look back on this and laugh, but for now, the mortification is still strong. 

“Okay,” Your attention snaps back to where Harry’s crouched down at the side of the machine. “I think it might be a problem with the water. It might be blocked or something.” As he talks, his hand comes to rest on a metal tube feeding into the back of the machine that you assume the water runs though. “So if we call a repairman tonight, they should be able to be here by-” And then, the tube slips. You don’t know if it’s due to the pressure of Harry’s hand, or if it was going to happen anyway and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but whatever the reason, it slips. And a jet of water starts to spray out of where it was. Soaking everything around it. Including Harry. He splutters and stumbles back, but it’s too late. His hair is plastered to his forehead, and his white shirt has become see through. He looks down, assessing the damage, and then stares back at you two helplessly. 

“Great. I’m soaked.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Val tries to stifle her laughter, but doesn’t do a very good job at it. After a few beats, you can’t help but to join in. After everything that’s happened, the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on of stress and mortification, it feels good just to laugh. 

Harry stares at the two of you for a few more seconds in mock annoyance, before he also can’t help but join in. Soon enough, the three of you are in stitches over just how ridiculous the situation actually is. 

As your laughter dies down, the sound of dripping catches all of your attentions. Your eyes fall to the place that had previously been spraying out water. It had died down so it wasn’t spraying, but there was still a steady, albeit thin stream of water coming out. 

“Our water bill is going to be through the roof after this.” Harry doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s just making commentary, but you feel guilty anyways.

“I’m so sorry guys. I’ll foot half the bill. And I can pay for the repairman-”

 Val cuts you off. “Don’t be stupid. This is just as much my fault as it is yours. More so, even.”

“No but still, I should pay for-”

“(Y/N).” It’s Harry that cuts you off this time. “Seriously. Don’t worry about it. This is our apartment, our bills.” His voice holds a warm tone you’ve never heard from him, and it’s enough to make you pause for a moment. 

“Please guys, let me pay for at least half the water bill and half the repairman. It’s only fair.”

“There’s two of us and one of you. How is that fair?” You throw up your arms in exasperation. You already knew how stubborn Val could be, you just didn’t realize how much Harry shared that trait. “Okay, fine. One third the water bill, one third the repairman. Please guys. I’m literally begging you.”

They glance at each other seeking silent confirmation and share a knowing smirk. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say they were teasing you.

“Okay, fine.” Val relents. “One third the water bill, one third the repairman.”

You heave a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Val smiles at you. “Ok, I’m going to go find the repairman’s number. There’s one on the fridge, right Harry?” Harry nods in affirmation, and Val heads out the door, pulling out her phone in the process. 

Then it’s just you and Harry. His wet shirt clings to his body, showing off his sculpted figure. You had always noticed he was objectively good looking, but now, with his body practically on display in front of you, you had a newfound appreciation for his looks. 

“If I knew you were that keen on paying, I would have started coming out with you guys a long time ago.” “Hm?” Harry’s voice snaps you out of the trance you didn’t know you were in. He raises his eyebrows at you. Shit. He definitely caught you staring. 

You quickly try to divert the subject. “So the only reason you weren’t coming out with us was because you’re a cheapskate? And here I was thinking you just didn’t like me.” You try to joke, but it falls flat as his expression turns serious. 

“You thought I- Oh God. I’m an idiot.” He shakes his head.

“Well what else was I supposed to think, what with you avoiding me and all.” You try to keep your tone light, but even you can hear the accusatory undertones slipping in. You hadn’t thought you were bitter, but now facing it head on, you realize you might carry a bit of resentment. 

“I never avoided you.” You give him a look. “Okay, maybe I avoided you a little bit. But it wasn’t-” He cuts himself off. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry I gave you that impression. I never meant to make you think I didn’t like you.”

“Well, it’s hard to draw any other conclusions when you get avoided,” you laugh self-deprecatingly. 

“I know. And you’re right. I’m sorry. I never really thought about it that way.” You lift your gaze to hold his steadily. You want an answer, and you intend on getting it. “Then why did you avoid me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I-” He glances at you, and seems at a loss for words. You look at him expectantly, waiting patiently for him to talk. He sighs again. “Look. You deserve an explanation. But it might take a second, and I’m,” he gestures down at himself. “I need a shower. And a change of clothes. And I need to gather my thoughts. Can we talk after?”

It’s not the answer you expected or wanted, but you nod. The disappointment must show on your face though, because Harry grabs you hand before you can turn away. “(Y/N). I promise after I shower I’m all yours.” His eyes meet yours again, but this time there’s a heat behind them that wasn’t there before. You’re pretty sure this is the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him, and the most amount of physical contact as well. All at once, it’s slightly overwhelming. Your voice seems stuck in your throat, so instead of responding you just nod. He gives you a slight smile, and with that, he’s brushing past you, out into the hallway, and you’re left standing in the laundry room, wondering what the hell just happened.

You still feel a bit dazed 15 minutes later, as you’re sitting on the couch in the living room when you hear the shower shut off. You quickly close the app you were playing around with on your phone as you glance up. Harry emerges in only a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s like a vacuum for your eyes, drawing them towards him so you can’t possible look at anything else. He stands there, neither of you saying anything until – 

“You have three nipples?” 

He blinks, seemingly caught off guard, before his brain catches up with what you said. “Huh? Oh, four actually.” 

“What? No way,” you gasp.

“Uh-huh,” he nods. “See look – one, two, three, four,” He counts, pointing them all out individually. 

“I didn’t even know that was a thing people had.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m unique like that.” He grins at you, and you roll your eyes, even as a smile breaks through on your lips. 

“Are you going to get dressed, or are we having the talk like this?” You ask.

“Oh, right. I’m just gonna-” he points vaguely in the direction of his room and stumbles off. He emerges a minute later, in a tee-shirt and sweatpants. It’s an outfit you’ve seen him in a million times before, but this time, it hits different. 

“Ok, ready to talk?” You ask. 

He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “Um, actually, there’s something I think I need to talk about with Val first.”

You give him a pointed look. “Harry.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just part of my explanation involves something having to do with her, and it wouldn’t be right of me to tell you without asking her first, and-” You cut him off by holding your hand up. 

“Ok. Fine. Just make it quick, please.” 

He looks relieved. “Yeah, of course. I’m really sorry again.” He turns around as talks, speaking to you over his shoulder, and promptly almost runs into the door frame. He shoots you one last embarrassed look, as he heads out in the direction of Kate’s room. You laugh and shake your head as you pick up your phone to reopen your game.

It’s about half an hour later when Harry comes back into the living room. You glance up at him, unimpressed, and he winces at your expression. “I’m sorry it took so long, I just had to explain some things to her.” “You’ve been apologizing an awful lot lately, Harry.”

“I know. Hopefully I won’t have to after this.” He crosses the room to take as seat next to you on the couch. He tucks one foot under his knee, so he can turn his body to face you. In response, you curl up and face him as well. 

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. There’s a lot I have to say, and quite honestly I’m really nervous about it, so I would really appreciate if you would hear out my whole story before saying anything.” You nod in agreement, and he takes another deep breath before starting.

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry.” “I thought you said you wouldn’t apologize anymore.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t interrupt me.” He fires back. You blush, and gesture for him to continue.

“I am, sorry, is the thing. I handled the situation entirely wrong. Looking back, it’s super obvious that the way I handled it made me seem like an asshole.”

“I didn’t think you were an asshole.” Harry gives you a look. “Right, sorry, shutting up now.” 

A half smile takes over his face, smoothing out his previously serious features. “I did seem like an asshole. It was only because I didn’t want- No wait. Okay. Let me start from the beginning.

“I knew who you were before we met. Val had told me about you. I met Val about a month after you met her, and at that point, she had a crush on you. That’s what I had to go talk to her about just now. She told me her crush faded right after that, and she thought I knew, but I thought that she liked you all this time. I knew you guys had dated other people, but I guess I thought that she was waiting for you or something? And then that one time I walked in on you guys, I just assumed that you had finally gotten together.”

“Harry.” His eyes snap up to yours. “I’m sorry, I know you said no more interruptions, but Harry, I already knew Val liked me. She told me as soon as she got over it. That’s why we started, y’know.”

He stares at you. “What- you mean- oh come on. Val conveniently forgot to mention that bit. I swear to God, that girl just wants to watch the world burn sometimes.” You stifle a giggle. Sounds like something Val would do. She likes to make Harry squirm.

Harry shakes his head. “Okay. Right. Anyways,” He pauses. “Do you remember the first time we met? When the three of us went for coffee?” You nod your head in affirmation. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen.” Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t say anything. “You made me shy and nervous, which had never happened before, and hasn’t happened since. And then we had that conversation about music – remember you told me you wanted Stevie Nicks to be your sugar mama?” 

You nod, smiling. “You said you wanted her to be yours too.”

“Right yeah. Basically, I was a goner after that. But I thought Val liked you, and me and Val had just started becoming really good friends, and I really liked her, and I didn’t want to do anything to mess up the friendship. I told myself it was just a crush and I’d get over it soon, but well,” He spread his hands. “I never really did. And then I thought if I distanced myself, it would go away. But that didn’t work either. Also, when I like someone, I’m like, really obvious about it. And I didn’t want Val to know, so again, distancing myself seemed like the obvious choice. And in hindsight, it was a really bad idea, because it makes total sense that you’d interpret it as me not liking you. So. Here we are. I don’t not like you. Pretty much the opposite.”

“Sooo,” Your eyes sparkle. “What I’m hearing is. You have a crush on me.” 

Harry groans and drops his face into his hands. “Oh God, I’m seriously starting to regret it. You’re just as bad as Val.”

“We’re best friends for a reason.” You pause. “What does Val think of all this?”

Harry smirks. “I’d say she seems fine with it. If I remember correctly, she said something along the lines of ‘go get that pussy, you oblivious dickhead.’”

You laugh. “Sounds like something she’d say. I hope this doesn’t mean you’re expecting to get in my pants, Styles.” 

He grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it, (Y/L/N). Not yet at least. Was thinking of taking you on a date first.”

That makes you pause. “A date, huh.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking bashful all of a sudden.

You pretend to think about it. “Would you avoid me the whole time?”

He groans as you burst into laughter. “God. You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Probably not,” You agree. 

“Well fine. If it’s like that, maybe the washing machine will take you on a date instead.”

You gasp. “That’s a low blow, Styles.”

He smirks at you, and you reach over to shove at his shoulder. Before you make contact however, he catches your hand, and uses it to pull you closer to him. He glances down at your lips and then tilts his head, a silent question. You answer by leaning in. But before your lips can touch, the sound of the door slamming breaks you two apart. You look over to see Val in the doorway. 

“Well isn’t this awfully cute. Harry, I never thought you’d go for my sloppy seconds,” she laughs. 

Harry stares at her, then looks at you, then back at her, and then back at you. “Please, pleasehold that thought. I’ll be right back; I just have a roommate to kill.”

“Be my guest. She’s most ticklish at her waist.”

Val’s eyes widen. “No Harry, you know I’m too ticklish – ARGH,” she cuts herself of with a scream as she runs off as Harry launches himself off the couch after her. 

~*~

PLEASE i loved this okay 🥺🥺 bi!reader rights babey!!!!!!!!!! we love 2 see it!!!! i think my fav part was val calling harry an oblivious dickhead nsfjdnsjnsn bc honestly he rly is. i think this was very well done and i just wanna say thank u for following me for so long!!! like damn you’ve been here a while huh……………..i luv u. amazing job babes!

[yandere-society]

can i request a yandere jimin that’s so dependent on the reader that when she goes to work and he stays home (because he’s out of work/works at home), he literally destroys himself and ends up going to her work looking like he was mauled by a bear (not literally but i hope you get the point). it’s totally fine if you don’t do it!!! — 🐹

Labor of Love

word count: 1.7k

author/admin: kimseokmomjins🥀

a/n: this contains extremely graphic depictions of self-harm and mentions of suicide, please read at your own discretion 

The violent vibrations of your cellphone caused you to awake with a startle. You scrambled to silence your phone, knowing Jimin was not fond of his sleep being interrupted by nuisances, but hesitated when you saw your superior’s name illuminating the screen.

Manager Kim never called you, always electing to communicate through e-mail, so his call was a surprise to you, to say the least. Something must’ve gone wrong with the latest project. Carefully sliding out of the sheets so as to not wake Jimin, you scuttled away to your adjoining bathroom and accepted the call. Manager Kim gave you no room to speak, immediately cutting to the chase the second you answered.

“You need to come in now. Our client received your design and he claims it’s not what he asked for. Now the bastard wants something bigger, flashier, and done in 3 hours.” You cupped your hand around the receiver, keeping your voice hushed. “Namjoon, you know I can’t, I have—” 

“Y/N,” he pleaded, “Please. I let you work from home seven days a week, I keep our correspondence solely through e-mail. I don’t ask questions about your lifestyle. I’m only asking you to help just this once.” His desperation pulled at your heartstrings, reminding you a lot of a certain someone. Inhaling, you shut your eyes tightly and acquiesced. “Fine, Namjoon. I’ll come in, but only for an hour or two.” You could practically hear the tension in his voice dissipate as he thanked you for your cooperation. “I knew I could count on you! I’ll see you soon, be prepared for a shitstorm.” Manager Kim ended the call abruptly, leaving you to contemplate your next decision.

There was no way Jimin would let you go into work, much less on such short notice. Some would call him controlling, or even downright insane, but to you, he was just a man with an extremely unhealthy inferiority complex. Jimin was someone who loved fiercely, passionately, but never believed people could reciprocate those same feelings towards him. Not even you, his wife of 3 years, who loved him more than life itself—who held him in her arms after every breakdown, every relapse. 

But being the sole breadwinner of the household meant you had to make the difficult choice: either go to the office or get fired. Either way, you either risked potentially losing Jimin, or losing your house, the car and health insurance. Neither was ideal, but lately, Jimin had been in high spirits. His old scars had finally begun to heal, meaning he hadn’t cut himself in at least three weeks. Maybe he was capable of staying home alone for a few hours. 

You looked at your phone’s digital clock. 6:58 a.m. Jimin seldom got up before noon, so you figured if you left now while he was asleep, you could make it back before he woke up. You rushed to make yourself presentable, trying to take as little time as possible, while also being as quiet as you could. Sneaking back into the bedroom, you knelt down on Jimin’s side of the bed and brushed the hair out of his face. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you gave him a tender kiss, hoping it wouldn’t be your last. “Minnie, baby,” you murmured so as to not stir him. He hummed in response, still deep in REM sleep, but slightly conscious. You continued, “I need to run to the office, okay? I’ll be back soon. I love you.” Jimin mumbled something incoherent and curled into his pillow, looking absolutely serene. 

Collecting your purse, you head past the kitchen, your eyes catching sight of the knife block that sat on the marble countertop. Fearing Jimin might potentially spiral and relapse, you carried the heavy block to the hall closet and hid it behind a stack of quilts, hoping Jimin wouldn’t be desperate enough to tear apart the closet. With a determined nod of your head, you set off to work, saying your silent prayers that everything would be okay.

•·················•·················•

When Namjoon said work would be a shitstorm, he wasn’t exaggerating. Your client, a semi-famous rapper by the name of Agust D, whatever the hell that meant, decided that he didn’t like his promotional advertisements. Three days before his comeback. You were able to get the redesign done, but not without him hovering over your back and micromanaging every minuscule detail, down to the smallest pixel. After hours of edits, you finally had a moment to relax. 

Checking your phone, your eyes widened when you saw that it was currently one in the afternoon. What was even more alarming was that you had over 13 missed calls and 54 unread text messages from Jimin. Fearing the worst, you unlocked your phone and began skimming through his messages, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

[Minnie 8:21 a.m]: hey baby, where’d you go?

[Minnie 8:23 a.m]: baby?

[Minnie 8:25 a.m]: Y/N?

[Minnie 8:30 a.m]: hello?????

[Minnie 8:34 a.m]: whatever you’re doing isn’t funny baby. please respond.

Your thumb scrolled upwards, towards the newer messages. The more recent, the more incoherent and unstable Jimin’s texts became.

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i get hthat u dotn lovve me anymore and im soty for ebeingf stupoid and ugly and uselass im sorry for a being patheic 

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i’

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i’ll end it all fro u

[Minnie 12:42 p.m]: YOU’RE MY FUCKOING EVERYTHISNG YOU FUCKING DONT UNETRESTAND I FUCKIGN NEED U Y/N

[Minnie 12:43 p.m]: DO I NEEFD TO CARVE YIUR NAME INTWO MY CHEST TO MAKE YOU HAPPY????? 

By now, fat, hot tears were streaming down your face, dotting the screen of your phone. You eyed the last message you had received, an attachment sent at exactly 1 p.m. Sprinting out of the office without a single word to your superior or client, you frantically played the voice message Jimin had sent. His soft voice echoed in the corridor as you dashed down the stairs and towards the parking garage, filling your heart and mind with worry. 

‘Y/N, my love, my life, my everything,’ he began, his voice hoarse and cracking, likely from emotional duress.  ‘You’ve abandoned me, and I don’t blame you. I’m stupid, incompetent and a waste of space. You complete me, I am nothing without you. And now that you’ve left me, I have nothing else to live for.’  Fumbling around in your purse in search for your car keys, you finally found the object of your search and unlocked your car, hurriedly shoving the keys in the ignition and peeling out of the garage. You couldn’t bear listening to more of the voice message, instead choosing to dial Jimin with the assistance of your Bluetooth controls. Each one was immediately redirected to voicemail, but you persisted in the barrage of phone calls. 

What was no more than a 12-minute drive felt like millennia, your heart thumping so hard that you heard your pulse reverberating in your ears. You raced up the stairs of your unit, taking them two at a time, hoping that it wasn’t too late—pleading with any Higher, Holy beings to let Jimin be okay. Your hands trembled so furiously that it was nearly impossible to unlock your door until finally, you were somehow able to enter the threshold of your apartment. Greeted with nothing but an eerie silence, you began to fear the worst. 

Usually, when Jimin had a breakdown, he screamed and destroyed everything in sight, but all of your decor was exactly as how you’d left it in the morning. The only trace your husband’s presence was the shattered picture frame that lay discarded on the dining room table, a chunk of glass missing. Your eyes traced over the worn mahogany surface before they settled on speckles of blood. You scanned the perimeter, looking for any clues that could lead you to Jimin. Following the droplets, you were led to your balcony, which overlooked the Dongdaemun shopping district. The gentle purr of cars wafted through the ajar french doors, and perched on the balcony railing was a defeated, scarred Jimin. He hadn’t noticed you, at least, not yet. But you noticed him and his current state. Arms streaked with blood— staining his pajama shirt and boxers a light pink— legs dangling idly from the metal railing as if he wasn’t four stories above a busy street, ready to plummet to his death. He looked content, serene, even. 

“Jimin, sweetie,” you choked, words catching in your throat at the sight before you. “What are you—” Before you had time to finish your question, Jimin lept off the railing and threw himself at you and into your arms. Violent sobs wracked his body as he clung to you, like a lost child would to his mother. “I th-thought you had l-l-left m-me,” your husband hiccuped. His hold on you was vice-like, and his wounds were, without a doubt, staining your blouse. “Why did you leave me,” he half-shouted, half-pleaded. “I lost control because of you. I almost ended it all for you.”

You found yourself at a loss for words. You didn’t consider your absence would affect Jimin so profoundly— to the point where he thought suicide was the only way to cope. You almost lost him; almost lost the love of your life. And it was all because of your selfish impulsiveness. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand toying with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, knowing affection was the best way to calm him down. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” you cooed, tears pricking your eyes. “Please forgive me, I’m so, so sorry. I love you, okay? Don’t ever doubt my feelings for you.” Your husband looked at you with those big, brown eyes that shone so brightly, so innocently. The eyes you loved dearly. 

“Promise?” He asked, his grip around you tightening slightly. “I promise,” you replied with a bittersweet smile. You knew that this would be the turning point of your marriage— you could never trust Jimin to be alone, not even for a few hours. You’d have to sacrifice your freedom, your career, to ensure his safety. But it was worth it just to see him live another day.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, alright Minnie?” He nodded meekly, letting you lead him towards the washroom so you could tend to his wounds, just like always. 

Time and time again, you’d be there to repair Jimin when he broke down, disregarding the fact that you yourself were the one that was crumbling under all the stress. After all, loving Park Jimin was an arduous affair.

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 6

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous  undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 4,339

Warnings:  brief N$FW moment, brief mention of violence

When I'm with you

It doesn't matter where we are

Or what we're doing

I'm with you, that's all that matters

(x)

Flip was surprised when he ran his tongue over his lip and it brushed his mustache. He was trying to get a stray crumb but instead was met with the taste of pussy. Elle's pussy. Guess he missed a spot when washing his face that morning. He fought back a grunt as the tartness melted on his tongue, a reminder of his night. And the night before that. And the night before that.

After he'd spent that first night over in Elle's apartment, he was there almost every night for the next few weeks. The only time he elected to stay at his own place was when his undercover case had him up at weird hours. He'd go back to his lonely apartment, sad to sleep in an empty bed. He used to purposefully wake up before his date, prying himself from their bed and leaving before they even noticed.

He was a big guy and would prefer to have the bed to himself. But the way Elle's body curled up next to his just felt right. He'd wake up to the smell of her hair and the feeling of silky skin under his hand. If anything, it made it harder to leave in the morning. But he could control himself, he assured himself. They both had jobs to do, no sleeping in allowed.

He'd be fine at work most of the day, paperwork kept his mind busy. But little things brought his thoughts back to Elle. He'd catch a whiff of her perfume on his collar, or a stray piece of hair on his shirt, or her cum in his mustache.

He'd fought he urge to call her the first week and a half or so. He'd see her later in the day, there was no point of stopping what he was doing to call over to the hospital. It wasn't until his job kept him from seeing her for three days did he finally swallow his pride and call.

Jimmy had caught him at his desk. Flip thought everyone had gone to lunch, and used it as an excuse to 'call the hospital' to 'get more info on Kukowski's medical status'.

"You're smilin' an awful lot to be asking about a perp's condition," His partners eyebrows were raised as he clutched his coffee mug.

"It's confidential, if you'll excuse me for a minute," He put his hand over the phone so Elle couldn't hear, though the giggling in the background made him think she still could.

"You're talking to that cute nurse aren't you?" Jimmy's smile took up his whole face.

Flip furrowed his brow.

"Thank you for the update ma'am, have a nice day," He put on his authoritative voice, making Elle laugh harder on the other end.

"Alright officer, you too. I'll see you at the diner tonight," She responded before the line disconnected.

He hung up the phone and stood up to get more coffee from the break room.

"Get all the information you needed detective Zimmerman?" His partner called behind him, voice full of smug glee.

He was just met with a middle finger as Flip left the room.

——

"I wanna take you out," He mumbled against her breast.

Post-coitus, Flip had taken to resting his head on her chest. It gave her easy access to run her fingers through his hair, and let him use her breasts as pillows as he came down from his high.

"Like a date? We were just at the diner yesterday," She reminded him.

"No, like a real date. We can go to this nice Italian place on my side of town. They have candles on the tables and they dim the lights and stuff,"

"I mean if you want to. I don't think I've been on a real date in like a year," She mused, fingers scraping along his scalp in a soothing motion. He was practically purring under her touch.

“I’d say it’s just about time then,”

“When was the last time you went on a date? A real one, not picking up a girl at a bar,” She turned her head so she could look at him.

Her curls, which had been fanned across the pillow moments before, were gathered in to a braid and thrown over her shoulder. He was playing with the end of it, dragging the hair across her skin and watching her try not to act ticklish.

“I don’t know, maybe a couple of years ago?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t like the question, but why aren’t you married?”

His head rose from her chest as he propped himself up with his elbows. He looked at her, analyzing her face as he thought about how to answer.

“I am married. You’re my mistress, didn’t you know?”

“Phillip,” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. You’re a great guy, respectful, good in bed, you got a good job, I can’t figure out how you haven’t been snatched up,”

“I’m married to my job is the short answer. Being on the force is hard. I work long hours, I can’t always be there, and I have to keep a lot of secrets,” He bit at his lip as he thought of what he wanted to say next.

There were some things he wasn’t quite ready to share with her, mainly that he was an undercover officer and not just a regular guy on the force. If they were truly keeping things casual, he wanted to keep her away from the more dangerous aspects of his job. If they kept this going and got more serious, he pledged to himself to have an honest conversation about his position, and what it could mean for their relationship.

“I had a long time girlfriend when I joined the force. Linda. We started dating right before I was accepted at the academy. She helped me through it, staying up studying with me, going to my graduation. My mom kept asking me when I was going to propose. I thought I wanted to, maybe in the next year or so. But police work kept getting harder. I’d be working long nights, had to cancel a few dates. Linda was okay with it at first, but it kept happening. I’d try to make it up to her, but I was new to the team and a lot of the grunt work would fall on me. Eventually she broke up with me, said she couldn’t take it anymore. She never knew where I was or if I was safe or whether she was going to see me that night. I understood, tried to tell her it would get better, but I knew I couldn't make her happy anymore,”

“So I kept on with work, tried dating a few other girls after that but it was the same problem. They wanted me home for dinner every night and being a detective just doesn’t allow for that. Flings have just been easier,”

He didn’t realize he’d looked away from her while speaking, vulnerability bubbling up in his chest as he spoke. He looked back at her to see she’d been watching him the whole time. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her eyes tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry that happened,” She started. “You deserve someone who understands,”

“You have pretty well,” He offered.

“My job is just similar is all. Long shifts, late nights. It’s a pain in the ass to work around, you just gotta find the right person. I thought I had, back in Indiana. I was seeing this guy, Abe. He worked at the university nearby and never complained about my job. He was the first guy who didn’t immediately try to get me to quit and become a housewife. He seemed to get that my job was important to me, that I really love what I do,”

“But?” Flip asked. Elle sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“But once I got the opportunity to come work here in Colorado things started to change. Abe even talked about moving with me at one point, him getting a job at a state college down here. But the closer the moving date got, the more keen to stay in Indiana he was. It was just talk to him, a fantasy. He never really intended on moving, and never thought i’d actually want to go. When he realized what I really wanted, he begged me to stay with him. He gave me his grandmother’s wedding ring and asked me to marry him,”

“He didn’t really know you all that well then, huh?”

“No, I guess not,” Elle let out a dry laugh. “If I wanted to marry him, I would have by then. I think he thought it was romantic, a sweeping declaration of love. It really just cemented my decision to leave. I gave him the ring back and told him I was sorry. I took a Greyhound to here a week later,”

“I guess we’re both married to out jobs then,” Flip set his head back down on her chest.

“I do have to wear white everyday,” She noted, stifling a laugh. He chuckled at her joke along with her.

“We don’t have to worry about labels or anything right now. We’re just two busy adults having a good time with one another. No weddings or family heirlooms involved,” He assured her, his hand reaching up to play with the pendant sitting near the hollow of her throat.

“You’re the only guy I’m seeing right now,” He could feel the vibrations from her voice as she spoke. “I’m okay with this being more casual, but I thought you should know,”

“You’re the only girl I’m seeing right now,” He left out the part where even if there were others, he’d drop them in an instant to be with her. He knew he should take it slow, for both their sake, but he couldn't help but feel this was a little more emotionally invested than just having a good time together.

“Wow, we’re really bad at this,” She teased.  “So, as two casual-but-currently-monogamous professionals, when is the best time for us to go on a date?,”

“Maybe Saturday night after you get off work? I can pick you up,” He knew he'd be meeting ‘the organization’ at Felix's house earlier that day. It would be his first meeting with the whole bunch, but he didn't expect it to last into the night.

“Only if we go dutch with the check,” She pointed at him.

"Of course," his palm rubbed against her bare breast catching her nipple. “Now do you think we can fit one more round in before midnight?”

She gasped under his touch, giving him a sly smirk before pulling him into round three for the night.

-------

If Flip knew he was going to spend his Saturday being forced to take a lie detector test at gunpoint, listen to his partner throw a rock through the window of a klansman's house, and then have to chase after said klansman to make sure his partner wasn't shot, he would have chosen a different night for his date with Elle.

But here he was, heart rate still trying to even itself as he drove home hours later. He would've been fine if Ron didn't throw a rock through the window of Felix's house. He would’ve talked his way out somehow. What was he even thinking? A black man instigating an attack while the house was crawling with armed white supremacists? He'd spoken to him about it at the station after he left Felix's, it didn't go great.

Ron was more focused on trying to make Flip impassioned about the cause. Trying to get him to feel the same way as he did, even though that wasn't him. He didn't let personal stuff get in the way of his work, he couldn't if he wanted to do a good job.

“Doesn’t that hatred you’ve been hearing the Klan say doesn’t that piss you off?” Ron had asked him in the dimly lit records room before they headed out for the weekend.

“Of course it does,” He’d responded. It was an easy question to answer, but it felt much more complicated under the surface.

“Then why you acting like you ain’t got skin in the game, brother?”

The Rookie’s words were frustrating. He didn’t understand what it was like for Flip growing up. His family pushing away their religion and their culture to fit in, until they were left with nothing but a name and some disregarded family heirlooms hidden away in the closet. Him never feeling like he really fit in with his Christian classmates, but also unable to relate to any Jewish people he met. He was always stuck in some middle ground, somewhere between what his parents wanted him to be and what they tried to keep from him.

Of course he had skin in the game, when the Klan talked about hating Jews, they were talking about his family. They were talking about Eliana. They were talking about him. Ron wasn’t considering how maybe it was so easy for him to slip into the roll of ‘White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, cherry pie, hot dog, white boy’ because it was all he ever knew. It’s not like he’s parading around with these racists and heading on home to Shabbat after, he knew nothing about the culture the Klan hated him for being apart of.

“Rookie, that’s my fucking business,” He gritted out, making direct eye contact with Ron. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore, especially not with his partner.

“It’s our business,” Ron responded.

Fuck that. He left him standing there in the back of the room as he lit a cigarette. It’d help calm him down.

Flip took a deep breath in an attempt to clear out all feelings from his work. He decided to focus on the night ahead. A date with Elle. A real date with Elle. He'd picked out his clothes earlier that day, his nerves getting the better of him. The black slacks and white polyester shirt were lying on his bed with a pair of dress shoes on the floor.

He slipped out of his work clothes and took a quick shower before re-dressing, his large hands buttoning the shirt with a practiced ease. He took a look in the mirror, smoothing down his damp hair into his usual center part before adjusting his cuffs.

All he could think when he looked at his reflection was of Felix pointing the gun to his head. It wasn't the first time it had happened. He'll, he'd been to war before he was on the force. And he'd been an undercover officer for the last three years, he'd had his fair share of close calls. But this was different. That gun wasn't to his head because of something completely out of his control; his heritage. Something he didn't even see as a big part of him.

What would have happened if they somehow found out who he really was? Would he have been shot over something so trivial? Was it trivial if someone wanted to kill him over it? He wasn't even a practicing Jew. But would that have mattered?

He laced up the dress shoes and shrugged on his sherpa jacket before leaving his quiet apartment to pick up his date. He tried hard to push his work out of his mind, turning up the radio to let a Chicago song take up the overworked parts of his brain.

Time passes much too quickly 

When we're together laughing

I wish I could sing it to you, oh no

I wish I could sing it to you

He pulled up to Elle's right as she was walking out the front door. She beamed as she saw his car pull up. He put it in park and was about to climb out to open the door for her when she yelled over for him to stay inside.

Perplexed, he sat in the drivers seat as she got in the car and settled in the passengers side.

"You don't need to get out of the car just to get back in, I can open a dumb door by myself," She explained, giving him a peck on the cheek after.

"If you insist," He caught her face before she turned away, pulling her into a longer kiss on the lips.

She hummed with content as his lips pressed against hers, an emotion he felt himself. The world disappeared for a second, his problems evaporating when he could smell her perfume permeating the air around them.

They broke apart and it took him a moment to drift back to reality. With one hand on the wheel and one hand resting with hers in the median, he drove off toward their destination.

Giuseppe's Italian Restaurant was a tiny whole-in-the-wall joint, with decor that hadn't been updated since they opened in 1940. But they had some of the best reviews in the city.

Flip let Elle get out of the car on her own, taking a good look at her outfit for the night. Her hair was down, her dark curls contrasting against her fair skin. Her necklace rested against her clavicle as always. She was wearing a floral dress, made of a flowing material. The neckline was tight and plunged, showing a fair amount of skin, but the skirt came to mid-calf and was gathered. It wasn't something he'd ever picture her wearing but she looked fantastic.

"A dress?" He placed his hand on her lower back as they walked toward the entrance. "Weren't you just protesting by wearing pants to work?"

"I'm not at work, am I? I can clean up nice from time to time," She wore a sly smile as they were escorted to their table.

Wine was ordered with dinner, the plates of food so big that they had to move the candle to the side of the small table. Everything was going great, the two of them talking in hushed tones and laughing in not-so hushed ones. They picked off each other's plates, earning the occasional side-eye from some of the more refined diners. Elle would raise an eyebrow at them and they'd turn their attention back to their own table.

He was about to take another bite of pasta when he saw a man walk by the window who looked awfully familiar. Blonde hair, slight build, gaunt face, Felix-like. Flips blood suddenly ran cold. His eyes trained on the front window as the man walked by, trying to get a better look at him.

The man walked by, not bothering to look inside the restaurant. After a few seconds of studying his face, Flip determined it wasn't Felix. He breathed a sigh of relief, trying to yet again push the image of a gun to his head out of his mind.

"Flip?" He heard his voice called.

He turned his head back to the table to see Elle staring at him, brow furrowed. She'd rested her hand on top of his, something he hadn't even felt her do.

"You drifted for a moment there, are you feeling okay?" She asked.

“Yeah, just thought I saw someone from work, sorry about that,"

"Do you want to leave? We can eat the rest of this later if you'd like,"

"No, no, let's finish our date. I'm fine, really," He squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her.

She gave him a look before continuing to eat. They filled the next couple of minutes with small talk, his mind still half at work as he thought about what happened at Felix's.

"Tell me more about your family," He found himself saying.

"Uh, what do you want to know?" She asked, looking at him with uncertainty.

"Why did they come to America? You said it was before the way right? Why America?"

"It's the land of opportunity. Coming from 1930s Germany, where they weren't even considered to be citizens, America was a paradise,"

"How were they not citizens?"

"Jews weren't citizens under the Nuremberg laws. Even if they'd lived in the country for generations, like my family. Before the war even started, dozens of restrictions were put on Jews to prevent them from contributing. We had to identify our businesses, we had to be in a registry, we couldn't marry outside our race-"

Flip's brain clicked. Jews were considered a race, not always just a religion. He knew this, but something in the way Elle spoke of it brought back memories of events he hadn’t really considered before. The way "Jew" was said by kids in grade school on the playground. The way it was said in a hushed tone by his mother's Bridge Club when she's host them at their house after carefully hiding all family relics. The way it was spat like venom by members of the Klan, said like it was the lowest thing a person could be.

"What were the Nuremberg laws?" He asked.

"What are they teaching out here?" She half-muttered, looking concerned. "They were laws to systematically enforce discrimination against Jews. The holocaust didn't happen overnight, the government worked for years to get Germany to see us as inferior. These laws prevented us from working and socializing outside our communities. Many fled, like my mother and father. They left in 1937, and had to give up most of their wealth in order to be allowed to emigrate. The rest of the family stayed behind, and were eventually taken to the camps,"

She grimaced as she spoke, rubbing her pendant between her fingers.

"My mother's brother was the only survivor we know of our family. He came to the US to live with us after he was liberated. I'd never met him before the war but mama says he wasn't the same when he came to live with us. He rarely talked about his time in the camps, and held a lot of survivors guilt. He watched everyone around him die, I can't imagine what he had to do to survive,"

She had looked down while talking, and looked back up at Flip when she finished, seeming startled.

"Sorry, this is really heavy conversation for a date,"

"No, I was the one who asked. I guess there are a lot of things they don't teach about the holocaust in school,"

"It's a shonda, how can people be expected to learn from it if they don't even know about it?" She slapped her hand on the table, drawing another look from a nearby table.

"They teach enough for it to never happen again," He said

"I hope you're right," She sounded unconvinced. "But either way, my family came here with next to nothing. At least they got here, a lot of people who tried to come to America as refugees were turned away at the border. They had to go back to Europe, where many died during the war. My parents were fortunate to have friends here to help get them on their feet,"

"I don't really know where my family came from. My grandparents on my fathers side came from Russia, but my mother never talked about her family. She said they'd passed away when I was a baby. We didn't really talk much in my family if you can't tell," He tried to make light of the situation.

"Maybe you could find some records at your parent's house. Or you could talk to your grandparents, if they're still alive,"

"They're not, but my parents inherited a bunch of their stuff, so I could ask," He said, thinking to himself about how that might go. They should be more open to talking about family stuff. He was an adult for fucks sake.

He considered how different his life was from Elle's. An assimilated military family in middle America versus an immigrant family from the biggest melting pot city in the world. Vastly different lives that somehow became connected. He caresses her hand with his thumb as he took it all in. The two of them sitting in this tiny restaurant in the candle light, talking about their lives openly.

"I like you, Eliana, a lot," He confessed, unable to find the words to fully express his feelings.

"I like you too, Phillip,” She stopped the movement of his thumb so she could hold his hand. "And this date is nice, but I can think of some place I'd rather be,"

"Oh?"

She leaned across the table, lowering her voice for his ears only.

"In my bed, with you on top of me, fucking me into the mattress until dawn,"

He was grateful his hair covered his ears because they for sure just turned red. He felt his cock stir in his pants, his hips shifting to try to adjust.

"Were in public, you know that right?" He smirked, lacing his fingers with hers.

"I can't help it if I want you in me 24/7," She pouted, letting her big brown eyes work him over.

"Is that so?" He leaned forward, letting his lips press against her ear as he spoke.

"If you want my fat cock in you, you're gonna have to listen closely Trouble. We're going to get out of here, get in my car and drive home. You're gonna be a good girl, I can't be getting pulled over by a coworker because you can't keep your hands to yourself,"

Her breath hitched as he continued.

"When we get back to your place, I suggest you take that dress off before I tear it off you. And then you'll get what you want, do you understand me?"

"Ten-four, detective," She whispered.

A few seconds later he felt her bare foot ghost over his lap. She must have taken off her heel while he was talking, and was now rubbing him through the fabric. The little minx. He raised an eyebrow at her, holding her foot steady with his hand. He was suddenly thankful the tablecloths were long.

"You said I couldn't touch you in the car, were not quite there yet, are we?" Her eyes glinted and her mouth twisted into a devilish smile.

"Check please!" He choked out.

_______

NOTES

There aren’t a ton of notes for this chapter, its more of just dissecting Flip’s feelings and struggle with understanding his identity. Where Elle grew up very sure in her cultural/religious identity, Flip didn’t really “grow up Jewish” as he mentioned in the movie. I think he’d definitely struggle with his identity, especially when confronted with so much hate regarding it. 

Here’s a basic idea of what Elle’s dress might look like (center dress)

I mentioned the Nuremberg Laws in chapter 4, but if you want to hear about the atrocities of the holocaust listen to the Mengele episodes from Last Podcast On The Left. It’s a three-part series and a little hard to stomach at times. I have a pretty strong stomach when it comes to true crime but this one got me a few times where I had to take a break (definite TW).

A shonda is yiddish for a disgrace/scandal. Its great vocab for overdramatic people such as I.

Thanks for reading!

[timeoutforthee]

Like It or Not-Chapter 12

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings: Denial. Like one big old chapter of denial. Shaming self for eating habits, skipping therapy appointments

Read on AO3!

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl

“Logan?”

“Hm?” Logan says, not looking up from the psychology book.

“The bell rang,” his teacher says, “You need to go to lunch.”

Something in him wants to laugh at that, but he catches himself and tries to correct his response. We do need to go to lunch. Food is fuel. You do need it.

“Just let me finish this sentence,” Logan mumbles. His teacher was trying his best, he assumed, and she had a passion for teaching the material. But the class was simply an elective at a high school, he couldn’t expect to learn everything. Right now, he’s skipping ahead to try and learn more about eating disorders.

There’s a whole paragraph on anorexia nervosa, and it ends with the mortality rate. Logan stares at it, trying to burn it into his brain, trying to flip a switch somewhere in there. This is stupid, he needs to function, he needs to eat, he needs to fuel himself, he needs to eat, he’s ruining his brain, he needs to eat-

Logan slams the book shut. His teacher jumps slightly. “Logan?”

He ignores her, just like he ignores the tears in his eyes. He walks out of the classroom without a word. His dad was right, he never should have taken this class. Maybe he could still switch to Computer Science.

^

Patton, Roman, and Virgil are trying to speak through facial expressions only. They think they are being subtle, or that Logan is too absorbed in whatever he’s thinking to notice. They are incorrect on both fronts.

Though to be fair, he has let his eyes glaze over and gone silent about four times already during this lunch, and it wasn’t even halfway over yet.

It’s Virgil who finally breaks. “Logan, are you like, good?”

“Yes,” Logan says, snapping out of his trance and sitting up a bit straighter.

“You sure?” Patton says, gently, “You seem a bit off today.”

“Yes. I’m eating, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you’ve only eaten, like 3/4ths of a celery stick.”

Logan puts the last piece in his mouth. He means to chew it, but suddenly it feels like solid rock sitting on his tongue and he can’t.

“Logan?” Patton says, and he manages to snap Logan back to reality enough for him to chew it.

And that’s how lunch goes. Logan breaks his lunch into pieces, and lets them sit there until someone coaxes him into eating.

By the time the bell rings, Logan has eaten two celery sticks and one fourth of a peanut butter sandwich. It’s when they all start packing up that he finally whispers, “It’s not real.”

“What?” Roman asks, starting to get worried.

“I mean it’s not me,” Logan shakes his head, “I just...look at pamphlets and warnings and definitions, and it doesn’t matter how much it fits. It’s just...not true. It’s not me. I can’t be doing this to myself.”

“Logan…,” Patton says, but now students are standing outside the door, and Logan is brushing everything into the trash and walking away before anyone can say anything.

Virgil pokes Roman in the side, and he yelps.

“Fix it.”

“Me? Why?” Roman asks.

“Because you’re the only one who has a class with him,” Virgil points out.

“I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t even have my own shit together!”

“Well, duh.”

Roman gasps, offended.

Patton debates going after him, but he has a feeling he’d never be able to convince Logan to skip a class to have a talk about feelings, so he just sighs and says, “Uh, guys? We should go.”

^

“You need to get to the bleachers, Crofter,” Coach says. His student has just walked into the gym. Logan’s eyes are glazed over, and he’s focusing on the students, counting each one as they pass him in their warm-up lap.

“Crofter. Bleachers,” his teacher repeats firmly.

Logan visibly shakes himself out of his trance and starts trudging up the bleachers. He actually considered skipping class, as Roman had done the previous week, but everything in him screamed that was wrong.

He has a feeling it won’t work, but it’s worth a shot. Instead of sitting next to Roman, he keeps walking, straight past him. A noble effort, but useless, because Roman just stands up and follows him.

“Do we have to make this difficult? I was really hoping we could just get to the opening up and talking thing that Picani and Sanders are trying to get us to do,” Logan keeps walking, “You know, Coach is going to yell at us for being up here.”

That makes Logan stop. Roman runs into him.

“Seriously? That worked? I mean, okay,” Roman says as they both sit down, “So what is this spacey thing you’re doing?”

“I am not spacing out,” Logan says, “I am counting.”

“Counting? Counting what?”

Calories. Steps. “Nothing,” Logan says, immediately, then he alters it to, “Everything. It’s not important.”

“I feel like if it was unimportant, you would be able to stop doing it.”

“I can stop doing it,” Logan says. Roman looks skeptical, “Stop looking at me like that! I’m fine. It’s fine. You are making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Me?” Roman huffs, “First off, not just me. Me and Virgil and Patton and definitely Picani and Sanders when I tell them.”

“Tell them whatever you want,” Logan snaps, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Roman suddenly goes quiet, “Logan, what do you mean?”

“I’m not going back to group,” Logan tells him, “I told you during lunch. I don’t have an eating disorder-”

“You don’t feel like you have an eating disorder,” Roman corrects.

“If I don’t feel like I have one, then what makes everyone so sure I do?”

“Probably because you can’t eat anything other than celery, bread, peanut butter, and jam,” Logan flinches at that, “Shit, no, wait-it’s fine. We’re not, like, judging you for your food or anything, it’s just-”

“It’s too much.”

Roman blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Do you know how many calories are in those? Do you know how much is in the jam alone? Because I do, and it’s in my brain and it won’t get out, it won’t stop, it won’t-” Logan’s hands tear at his hair for a second before he pulls them out and takes a deep breath. “I just started eating everything again, without any troubles. I don’t have a problem at all.”

“...I have several concerns,” Roman says, “Okay, one, I do know, thanks, and even for me, four things you feel comfortable eating is, like, a super low number. Two, you are definitely currently having troubles. So there’s a no for that. And also no to you not having a problem. Again, currently, having a very big problem.”

Logan leans forward, puts his head in his hands. Roman sighs.

“Logan? Do you realize why you’re here?”

“To...learn? That’s typically what you go to school for-”

“No. I mean like, right here. On these bleachers. I know it’s really easy to forget, but you are hurting your body and that’s why you have to be up here.”

Logan lifts his head up from his hands, keeping his eyes on their peers below.

“Or maybe he’s just wrong. Maybe all these complications are just in my head-”

“Okay, we’re going to play a game,” Roman says, holding up a finger with one hand and digging for his phone with the other.

“A...game?”

“These complications, what are they?”

“Oh, they’re just little things that show I’m not quite as healthy as someone my age should be-”

“So, little things? Like being cold and shivering?”

“Um. Yes?” Logan says, surprised.

“Dehydration?”

“No, I drink eight glasses a day-” Logan cuts himself off. Wait. “Wait. Dry skin, dizziness, headache...maybe?”

“So, you have headaches, dry skin, and you get dizzy?”

“Yes...I don’t see how this is game.”

“The game is called, ‘Google Anorexia Side Effects and See How Many Logan Has’.”

“Ah. I don’t like this game.”

“Too bad! Ever fainted?”

“No.” His legs have crumpled under him and he’s been left scrambling for the counter to grasp on to. Sometimes his head swims, and he doesn’t remember how he got on the floor or why he’s holding on to the staircase like that. But Roman doesn’t need to know that.

“Fatigue?”

Logan glares at him and doesn’t say anything.

“Got it,” Roman says, putting his phone away. “Now how likely is it that you’re going to explain this counting thing to me?”

“The counting is not a thing, it’s just...sometimes I need to keep my brain occupied.” Because he’s afraid of what will happen if he lets go. He needs something to ground him in reality, to keep him steady. It was a healthy coping mechanism, really. Honestly.

^

Logan was not freaking out. He was trying to prove-no, he was trying to show everyone that he didn’t have anything wrong with him. So, crying over jam is definitely not a possibility.

But he can’t find it. He has searched and moved everything in his cabinet and shuffled things around but he can’t find it.

His mom walks in and he peeks around the door.

“Mom? Did you pick up the jam like I asked you to?”

“Oh, that,” she says, “I actually have been cutting some things out of my diet, to be healthier, so I didn’t pick that up. It’s too tempting to have around the house.”

“Tempting. Of course.”

“It’s not a big deal, Logan,” she says, “In fact, a healthier diet may help you out.”

His mind, the traitor, thinks back to gym class and Roman’s “game.”

“Actually, my doctor wanted me to avoid that.”

“Funny, that’s usually the first thing they want to change,” she laughs, then immediately cuts herself off, “Oh darn!” she rushes over to the fridge, where the calendar is hung up. “You were supposed to have an appointment today. If we hurry, we’ll still be late, but maybe-”

Logan knows about the appointment, and he knows he should have reminded her like he does every day. But instead he says, “You know what? Don’t worry about it.”

[bluecollardumbass]

It ain’t that I’m a dumbass.  I did OK in school ... I just fuckin hated it.  Day after day sittin in the same desk in the same row under the same buzzing lights with the same teacher’s voices buzzing like flies on a corpse.  

I graduated HS ok, too.  Wasn't like, class prez or nothin, but I passed with flying Cs.  Didn’t have much of a social life.  Kind of a loner.  Watched a lot of TV.  Never really got into reading books, mostly cuz my stepdad who was a REAL redneck burned em all one time when I pissed him off.  To get back at him, I never read another book again.  I got real into cars for awhile.  Still love Jeeps and big fuckin trucks.  Then I started smokin weed.  Aw, fuck man, that shit changed everything.  Suddenly my life was awesome.  Alls I needed to worry about was running out, and it seemed like that was impossible - weed was everywhere.  It was the piece I was missin the thing I needed to be totally chill.  And once I found it it was like awesome.  I was a stoner.  Still am, actually.  This aint a story about how I changed or nothin.  

But I’m not a dumbass.  I mighta hated school n shit but like I learn shit fast.  And the 1st thing I learned was that I don't like being kept inside.  I fuckin love being outside.  I love being in the sun and I love being in the rain.  Aint nothin like a good thunderstorm.  Cold don't even bother me too much, unless its like fuckin below zero, then that shit gets old real fast.  So when I had my options to be like, a guy with a job n shit, I was workin for a supermarket and I was divvied up between doing the shit on register and pushing carts n the parking lot.  Obviously you can figure out which one I liked more, so I was happy doing that for awhile.  But then the manger found out that I was getting high on the job - I mean come on, romeing around in the parking lot, blissed out on some mad trip sativa bro, you can't fuckin falt me for that, rite?  I guess sum fuckin soccer mom in her minivan narced on me.  Didn't want her little boy learnin bad shit.  Well sweetie, its a fucked up world and your only doin your kid a bad one by hiding him from it.  You playing a losing game, darlin.  Besides, whats so bad about weed?

So yea, lost that job.  I kinda bummed around my moms for awhile, got unemployment, but got all kindsa antsy n shit.  It was around then I took up smoking butts, probably cuz I was bored, probably cuz I had nothin else to do but smoke butts on the porch n drink Coors Lite.  Man those were sum great days, Ill tell ya, but they didn't last cuz my mom got pissed (whys everybody always getting so fuckin pissed for?) an kicked me out.  Didn't really have nowhere else to go, so I kinda slept around outside in the back of my F-150 for awhile.  Fuckin love that truck, its a ‘92, with the single cab.  I figured I could bum around for awhile.  Sleep in the truck.  It was summertime after all and I had a lil bit of cash.  So I did that, drove around in the woods in places.  Ran into this guy who lived down the street from me when I was a kid, told me his roommate just up n left, and he needed somebody to move in.

So I drove the truck down further south then I ever been, and I moved all my shit (mostly just clothes n crap, all in trash bags) into Erik’s trailer.  We hit it right off - he was a bro, real chill, 420 friendly.  His fridge was stocked with Coors Lite and he had a ready supply of Jager.  He told me he worked on this site with this group of dudes and he'd just gone from job to job and site to site with em, all getting payed under the table.  We stayed up late drinkin and smokin and laughin like fuckin teenagers until the fire was ash and our packs were empty.  Somewhere around past 3 in the mornin, Erik told me he could probably get me a job on the site, too, if I wanted.  It was good money - he had enuf to buy his own trailer and a truck, too!

I aint never worked construction before.  And like I said, I aint a dumbass.  I know what kinda work that is - hard fuckin work, sometimes bone-breaking work.  But it was sumthin about the way Erik said it, or maybe cuz I was so fuckin hammered and wasted, that I agreed to go with him on Monday.  He talked about it for awhile, but I was drifting in and out, didnt really hear what he said.  I was floating on all kindsa colors of clouds, and the stars above were all winking at me, like they knew somethin I didn't.  

I’m not gonna say either that I’m like Mr Muscles or whatever.  I was never skinny, but closer to wiry.  Weird looking, if you ask me, but whatever.  I don't waste my time on mirrors n shit.  Just throw on whatever and hit the door.  But I gotta say, after some paperwork and a handshake or two, I was kind of enjoying the way it felt.  All day, I was in a sort of haze, lifting some shit here and carrying some shit there.  I wasn't any skilled laborer or nothin.  I didn't know how to do jack shit.  But Im a quick learner.  And I had Erik with me as like a sorta guide for the day, to like show me whats gotta be done.  I saw him talkin with the foreman, the only guy here wearin a shirt n tie, and the foreman was listenin real hard, so Erik’s gotta be some kinda bigshot around here.  Before I knew it, the end of the day showed up and I was wipin my brow making faces cuz I had dust in my teeth.

And everybody on the site was cool, and I liked bein outside.  I could get high if I wanted to before I went to work, which was fuckin cool as fuck.... I could smoke butts all day, and everything was mad chill.  So thats how I became a construction guy.  Don't feel like much of a story, but somebody gotta do it, right?  Turns out that somebody is me.  And maybe I am a little slow on the uptake, turns out.  Some of the guys on the site call me dumbass, but I don't mind.  Its just kinda like a joke, because I do dumb things sometimes.  And I don't talk so good, I get words mixed up.  But doesn't mean I’m a dumbass.  I know Im good at what Im good at - or something.  I aint that good at communicating, they said in HS, an I guess thats true.  But fuck it, cuz I got some fuckin dank weed to smoke with Erik tonite and we gonna get fucked up on Jager n listen to this new album he got of this like metal band.  The last album they did we listened to was all like weird whispery shit n like backward talking, it was cool but weird.  Man I smoked so many butts that nite.  Don't remember much of it, but thats what happens when I hit the Jager, haha.  Just make sure I got a Monster for the morning after, gonna need at least two!!

So yea maybe this is like a story about how I got happy, or whatever, haha.  Turns out school aint for everyone and you don't need to be inside all ur fuckin life an u can do what u want and think how u want.  There’s this big election comin up too, an like, usually I don't get into that shit, but I was talking to Erik an he was like yea man, u should vote the way u feel, u know.  Nothin gets done unless u take action, and that was like, so fuckin deep n shit.  But who would I vote for?  Erik shrugged and said that he thought I should vote how I felt, the one I liked the most.  So I did.  And he won!  How cool is that.  Erik even got me a red hat with his name on it to celebrate.  Sometimes I listen to him speakin and I agree with what he says and does.  Erik says he voted for him, too, and sometimes he talks about politics n shit, and I kinda have to tune it out.  He just keeps talking an talking and I kinda blank out for awhile.  But then I need anuther beer, and so I kinda like, come out of it.  

Man, Erik will say, laughing.  Politics really puts u to sleep, huh.  

Yea, I say.  Crack another Monster, I need a lil pick me up, haha

And UFC is on tonite, can't wait to see who ends up in the Octagon this time.  Got a cool UFC shirt coming in the mail.  It’s funny, I actually had this dream that a guy was wearing that, and I thought it was cool, so I bought it.  Sometimes I have these dreams about all these photographs of these dudes who kinda look like me but like not like me at the same time.  We wearing the same clothes, anyway.  Erik’s helped with that, too.  He knows that I usually just grab whatever, but when I have to decide, I get all stalled out.  He’s helping me by just picking em out for me, and thats awesome, Im thankfull for that.   

Ok thats all for now.  Maybe Ill write more later.

[glowstickhaloboy]

part 2 of that au where lance is a night vision mermaid

hi im back

link to part 1

the next night, keith is waiting when lance sneaks up to the surface. who knows how long hes been sitting on that rock, but he looks massively bored as lance comes out of the water. then he all but lights up. “you came back.”

lance tilts his head to the side. “stop saying things that will ruin my reputation.”

“i didnt know if you would. i thought i might have been c-”

“did you tell anyone about this?” asks lance.

keith shakes his head, shuffles to the very edge of the rock. “no one. please tell me your name.”

“first,” says lance, “i need to know something. why are you out here? you said you were after knowledge, but for what purposes?”

“what do you mean?”

“what kind of knowledge?”

“anything,” keith breathes, leaning closer. the moonlight shines in his eyes and hair. hes so dry, yet he glows. “everything.”

“and what do you plan to do with it?”

again, that question stumps keith. he sits back on his feet. “i...”

so far, this is going well.

“i’ll tell you,” lance asserts, puffing himself up to his full impressiveness. “nothing. youre going to do nothing with this knowledge except keep it for yourself. any secret i trust you with is meant for you, not your animalistic human world. no publications, no research teams, no clamoring for more evidence to build an arsenal of strategy against my people. and, as always, i decide that if i no longer trust you, i get to drown you.”

keith’s throat bobs at that last statement, but it seems bravery has a furnished home inside his chest. he nods. “i wont betray you,” he says. “not even to my team, if you dont want.”

“no, not even your team. you’ll have to come up with excuses for them.”

keith nods again.

“and one more thing,” lance continues. “i dont think its fair that these secrets are free. youre cute, but youre not that cute. so, heres how itll work: you tell me something about you, and i’ll tell you something about me, and when you get tired or the sun starts to come up, i’ll go back under the surface and we’ll meet again when it gets dark. does midnight sound fair?”

keith begins to nod another time, but stops himself. “hold on,” he says. “will you tell me the truth? i have no way of knowing.”

“of course,” says lance. “mermaids cant lie.”

skeptical, keith narrows his eyes, the cogs visibly turning in his head.

lance snorts. “yeah, that wasnt true. but,” he says, drawing close enough that he could drop his voice to a murmur, “i have no reason to lie to you if i know you arent going to tell anyone else.”

keith accepts this. “can i ask questions if i want to know something specific?”

“yes.”

“okay,” says keith. “you said i go first, so what do you want to know about me?”

“what,” says lance, “is it like to walk on those ungodly tools you call legs???”

keith pulls his knee up to his chest. “this? it’s like... well, its different from swimming. ive been swimming before but, uh,, still had to use these to do it, so i dont really know how to describe it. its like... walking?”

“you,” lance says flatly, “are not the most intellectually evolved of your species, are you?”

“i hunt mermaids for a living because i cant get a real job.”

“can i feel it?”

“what?”

“can i feel your leg?”

if this is a weird request, it cannot possibly be weirder than the event of meeting a mermaid, so keith is unfazed by it. “yeah, sure.”

he sticks his leg out over the water. lance is, at first, a little intimidated by the straightness and inflexibility of it, but eventually he decides that it is basically like a bigger, stronger arm and that humans are very weird. satisfied, he and keith both withdraw.

“okay,” says keith, with the air of somebody about to do something very important after an absurdly long amount of waiting. “what is your name?”

lance smiles. “lance.”

it’s like lance has applied salve to a wound. keith closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. his shoulders relax. “youre real,” he says, like he just found this out.

“gee, you sure know how to flatter a fish.”

but it starts the conversation. keith tells lance about the practice of cryptozoology and lance tells keith about ocean-bottom culture. keith talks about growing up and going to school, and lance talks about being raised by a family bigger than keith could imagine and learning to provide for each other. keith explains war and lance explains peace.

from there, they go on to ask more personal questions. who is hunk and why would he be upset if he knew you were here? what made you so fascinated with mermaids that you decided to vacation on a rock? keiths eyelids start to droop. lance is getting a little fatigued himself. this conversation is putting even his talking skills to the test, and keiths throat has gone scratchy. its nice. theyre both relaxed. lance becomes aware of how completely comfortable he is.

“its late,” lance says at last. “you dont want your friends to wake and catch you out of your reef. er, bed?”

keith has this look in his eye like hes worried to let lance go in case he doesnt come back.

lance yawns and says, “midnight.”

then he dives under the water.

its strange to think about, but being fully submerged again feels weird after having his head sticking out into the air for four hours. the water is warm on his face. he cant wait to get back to his reef and crash.

except hunk is waiting for him there.

“dude,” he says. “where’ve you been?”

lance’s heart does backflips. WHAT DOES HE SAY?

“hunk,” he says. “you’re here!”

“yeah,” says hunk.

lance tries again for better wording. “what are you doing here?”

“looking for you?? at your house????”

and lance is like, well im fucked.

“i was out,” he hedges. “with, uh, someone.”

“lance, if that were true, you would be over the moon right now and i would have known about it for days because you would never have shut up about it!”

“thats not true! and besides, i wasnt with him like that. well, maybe i was, i dont know... im kind of confused about it.”

“really? you wanna talk about it?”

no.

he doesnt have to fake a yawn. “actually, buddy, i would, but i am super beat. i’ll tell you all about him when i know whats going on. oh, was there something you wanted?”

“just checking in on you. you havent tried sneaking back up to the surface have you?”

“why would you ask me that?”

“because your brain is the ocean’s strongest magnet for horrible ideas.”

“well thanks,” says lance, a little colder than he otherwise would have been. “and i’ll have you know that i have not been to the surface. it’s totally overrated. who’d want to be walking up there on a pair of lame, clunky legs? goodnight, buddy.”

hunk leaves lance to his rest.

and the next night, keith looks different. hes in shorts, the lunatic, with no shirt on and a towel draped around his shoulders.

“what are you doing?” asks lance.

keith merely grunts and slides into the water. he takes a few shuddering breaths and paddles closer to lance.

“i wanted to,” says keith. he holds out an arm. under the waves, lance can feel his clumsy feet kicking and kicking and kicking.

“you know how far down the sea floor is, dont you?” asks lance.

keith says, “im not stupid. i’ll get back on the rock if my legs get tired.”

Legs, Lance thinks with contempt.

“well,” he says, “if youre getting that close, i want to be able to touch you.”

“why do you think i did this?”

and its a great idea until it isnt. it starts off with lance feeling like someone is taking a big risk to be close to him, and his heart tries for a complicated swelling motion before lance manually tamps it down again. he looks at keith’s face and instead of seeing a face which happens to be clearly human, he sees all the fragile features that make it human, and an overwhelming need to protect their delicacy suddenly rises in him.

what simultaneously rises is a wave so strong that it folds over keith and drags him under the water. 

lance’s instincts take control. like lightning, he dives under the water, snatches keith’s arm, and drags him back up to his rock, where he sets him and retreats. keith coughs up water, shaking, and reaches for his towel.

“are you alright?” asks lance.

“you saved me,” says keith, like he cant believe it.

“well, yeah.”

unexpectedly, keith grins at him. “i thought i was just a boring human,” he says. “thought you didnt care if i drowned.”

lance feels an alien heat rise in his cheeks. is the above-surface air getting to him?

“i said i would be the one to drown you,” he argues. “i think thats enough for tonight. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

keiths mouth falls open in protest, but before he can say anything else, lance disappears. he doesnt stop swimming until hes back down at his reef, and even then he feels like the whole ocean can hear his heart hammering. he had saved keith. why had he done that? because he wasnt a bad person, obviously. he wasnt going to just stand by and watch an innocent man die.

but there was something deeper. something that he could not explain and therefore elected to ignore.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #192: Steel City Nightmare!

February, 1980

Weirdly my first thought was that this could be a Superman cover. Because Wonder Man is very red and blue and I somehow overlooked Iron Man at first. And punching a big glowy guy full of kirby krackle is just the kind of nonsense Superman would get up to.

And later in this issue, Wonder Man ends up in a situation that reminds him of “an old Max Fleisher cartoon” and takes a page from the unnamed hero thereof.

So I wonder (ha!) if its a coincidence or if I’m picking up on an intentional homage.

Anyway.

Last time: the Avengers won their freedom from Agent Gyrich’s restrictions by ditching their senatorial hearing to go fight Grey Gargoyle. There’s more to it then that but basically the very short time when Gyrich had much sway on the Avengers is over.

This time: A steel city nightmare.

We actually start with Wonder Man and Tony Stark touring a steel factory.

And the narration reminds us of the easily forgotten fact that Wonder Man aka Simon Williams and Tony Stark were once competitors. Until Simon Williams got in huge amounts of trouble for embezzling money and then agreed to let a Nazi scientist experiment on him and then died.

But this steel factory belonged to Wonder Man back before all of that and Tony Stark asked him to come on the inspection to help him decide whether or not to add the factory to the holdings of Stark International.

I might be a kind of insensitive gesture if Wonder Man gave a crap about his life as a businessman, which he doesn’t. He just seems kind of amused by the blast from his past.

Meanwhile nearby, some of the workers ooh and ahh over getting to see a real superhero like Wonder Man from so close.

The foreman, Joseph Conroy, brags about seeing Thor use this very factory to repair Mjolnir a couple years back. Conroy even found a chip of Uru afterward and made a good luck charm/keychain out of it.

One of the other workers says something weirdly threatening though.

One of the other workers: “Maybe you’d better switch to rabbit’s feet, Conroy. That lucky charm don’t seem to be workin’ too good lately... does it?”

Conroy nervously excuses himself to get Wonder Man’s autograph for his daughter.

Aww, Wonder Man actually has fans. Children fans.

But later as Conroy returns from getting said autograph, another worker jumps out of concealment and smacks him with an ore spoon.

Knocking him over the railing and sending him falling right into the furnace.

Where he just. Vaporizes. Eesh.

Alas Conroy. You cameo from a Thor comic, you.

Unfortunately, in addition to the tragedy of a man being murdered, him falling into the vat of molten metal also spilled some molten metal on the cauldron operator.

Who obviously runs off screaming, suffering terrifying injuries.

But the cauldron continues on its automated way, operating on a pre-set rate of flow which pours molten metal all over the manufactory floor.

Less than good.

There’s no time to get all the workers to safety so the crucible has to be stopped.

Tony tries to slip away to become Iron Man but Wonder Man grabs his briefcase from him and throws it across the factory to hit the control panel.

Leaving Tony Stark just sadly watching and thinking “Aw, geez. My armor...!”

Its like a brief but effective example of how secret identities can backfire. I love it.

And the gambit works. The crucible stops pouring.

But the already spilled metal is still flowing towards workers so Wonder Man jumps off the catwalk to go save the day.

Wonder Man: “Somebody’s got to stop that molten steel! And since I’m the only Avenger around, it looks like I’m elected!”

I do like Wonder Man sometimes. Despite his insecurity and self-doubt, when the moment comes he almost always steps up.

Anyway, this is the moment where Wonder Man takes some inspiration from not-named-but-totally-Superman cartoons, grabs some I-beams, bends them into U-beams, and dams up the molten flow.

And it works! You’re two for two on good ideas, Wonder Man!

Then he hears someone calling for help and he rushes in.

One of the workers tripped and someone got his fool ankle stuck in the stamp press.

He begs Wonder Man to turn off the press but Wonder Man doesn’t know how to do that.

Despite once being an inventor businessman, he thinks best with his muscles. So he decides to muscle this problem.

So he jumps under the press and holds it up, gloating that he once fought Thor to a standstill!

A steelworker: “But no one can hold a stamp press back! It’s set for fifty thousand tons!”

Wonder Man: “Don’t worry, friend -- I’m Wonder Man! I once fought Thor to a standstill! And if I can *ung* do that... s-surely I can *ghk* ... can *urf* f-fifty thousand, huh? HHEELLPP!”

Thankfully Tony Stark shows up, a sentiment some would say they never thought would be expressed.

He pulls the worker free and tells Wonder Man to jump clear.

Buuuuuuuuut.... Wonder Man accidentally.... stripped the threads on the thing.

If he jumps out head first, he’ll get a flattened bottom. If he jumps out feet first, a flattened head.

Tony Stark thinks of a third option though.

Grabbing Wonder Man by the belt and pulling him out in all one go so he clears the press.

Good job, Tony Stark.

Yet another sentiment that blah blah et cetera.

So here is part of why I find Wonder Man so endearing I guess. He sure does goof up a lot, often related directly to him bragging about how strong and cool he is. He’s a very human character for a character that’s no longer strictly human.

Wonder Man: “*Whew* That’s what I get for being cocky. Guess I still haven’t had enough experience as a super hero to anticipate all the angles. Thanks, Tony.”

MEANWHILE, AT THE MANSION OF AVENGE

A man approaches Avengers Mansion and tries to gain access with a card.

REJECTED

The security tentacles grab him and then a net is dropped on him, and then laser cannons activate.

So I guess the security system is working.

Agent Gyrich bursts out of the mansion and demands to know who this guy is and why he’s skulking about.

Sid Bloat: “I-I’m Sid Bloat, sir. I-I live down the street an’ I got this neighbor who’s been playin’ his stereo real loud, y’know? My landlord won’t do nothin’ about it, but since the Avengers are good-guys, I thought, well...”

Henry Peter Gyrich: “You mean you’ve attempted to breach a top security installation to solicit some of the most powerful beings on this continent... for a noise complaint?!”

Also the card he tried to use to gain access when prompted for a clearance card was a credit card.

I’m just flabbergasted by that.

I don’t know whether the line of thought was trying to unlock the high tech front door lock like you could with a less advanced lock using a credit card. Or whether he was trying to pay an entry fee. Good lord.

The Avengers all come out to see what the fuss is and Captain America tells the guy that the Avengers are a specialized organization and don’t reeeeeeeeally handle problems like noise complaints.

Gyrich tells the guy to go to the police.

Vision floats out through the wall and says he’s heard that the huu-man method in this situation is hitting a broomstick against one’s ceiling “can be an effective mode of communication in cases such as yours.”

Sid Bloat leaves to maybe take some of these suggestions into consideration but really is thinking he should have gone to the Fantastic Four.

I’m not going to look it up because I don’t want to be disappointed but if the concurrent Fantastic Four comic this month or the following month didn’t have Sid Bloat show up with his noise complaint then comics are a failed medium.

With that little nonsense over, Gyrich is satisfied that the security on the Avengers Mansion is adequate and that some random asshole off the street can’t just walk into the place like he did that one time.

He doesn’t like their newly won autonomy but orders are orders and he’ll be checking up on them from time to time. But for now, GOOD BYE.

And the instant he’s gone, the Avengers go ‘welp time to expand our roster just because we can.’

To be fair, they’re only going to ask Hawkeye and Yellowjacket. Two additional people plus I think Ms Marvel is sticking around because Scarlet Witch is still planning to take some ‘me time.’

Falcon actually suggests Hawkeye because he thinks it might ease the bad blood between Hawkeye and himself which-

Look, Falcon. I appreciate that you’re a nice guy who would think of Hawkeye when this opportunity came up. But the ‘bad blood’ is entirely on Hawkeye’s shoulders.

He’s blaming you for a thing you didn’t want to do but were emotionally blackmailed into by Cap to fulfill restrictions set up by Agent Gyrich. But Hawkeye took the brunt of his anger out on you, the Falcon.

Fuck ‘im is what I say.

Not that it matters. The contact number that Hawkeye left with the Avengers is out of service now that Hawkeye has a better gig and better digs working at Cross Technological Enterprises.

Meanwhile, Janet calls Hank “Giant Ant-Man Yellowjacket” Pym and lets him know that he can rejoin the team as a full-time Avenger but he’s enjoying having time to do pure research.

Also some chemicals are boiling over and he doesn’t want to be the jackass that spills chemicals on himself and gains superpowers. Nope, he’s the jackass that tested chemicals on himself on purpose without doing any kind of other testing on living matter first.

But me calling back to Grey Gargoyle and also throwing my hands up in defeat at the lack of safety protocols in comic book science aside, Hank hangs up on Jan to go deal with some chemicals that are boiling over.

Janet van Dyne, aka the Wasp: “Hank! What do you -- Hank? Hello? Ooo, Henry Pym, you’re infuriating! Just wait’ll I get home! I’ll show you! Or worse, I won’t show you!

Given what I know is coming, her trying to get him to rejoin the team has a foreboding feel to it. Geez.

Its true what they say. Not all of wisdom brings joy.

Later, after Wasp has gotten out of her superhero outfit to put on a nightgown to make a phone call to Hank and then gotten back into her superhero outfit to have a house meeting, uh, there’s a kind of house meeting.

Captain America: “Terrific. When we can’t add Avengers, they’re running out of our ears. But when we can add Avengers, everyone’s busy. Makes sense.”

Hah. A common problem to many in different permutations.

Beast suggests re-inducting Wonder Man. And I’m surprised it took so long for someone to make the suggestion. He was very recently with the team and verbally regretting that he’d have to leave it soon.

I guess they didn’t want to add too many people all at once and they wanted to soothe Hawkeye’s crybaby feelings and also wanted to let Jan hang out with her husband during superhero stuff.

But after that fell through, I’m surprised someone didn’t go ‘oh hey Wonder Man’ before Beast did.

But then, they’re besties. And I hope the X-Men never takes Beast back. Only bad things happen to him there. Or happened by him. I don’t think Beast would have broken the space-time continuum just to be a petty dick if he stuck with the Avengers.

Anyway, as we’ve seen, Wonder Man is in Pittsburgh with Tony Stark so why not bop over and surprise him with the offer?

But Vision notes that not all of them would be able to make the trip, seeing that Scarlet Wanda has her bags packed for her vacation time.

Vision: “Are you certain you must leave, Wanda?”

Scarlet Witch: “Yes, Vision. There are things I have to sort out. Things I’ve got to settle... on my own. Please try to understand.”

Vision: “Your decision is perplexing, my wife, and very human. I do not understand -- but I do accept.”

Vison + Scarlet Witch: “I love you.” -kiss-

Aww.

Geez. I’m really angry at John Byrne all of a sudden for no reason. Huh. Weird.

MEANWHILE, Pittsburgh.

The steelworkers set up a memorial for Joseph Conroy.

Since there’s nothing left of anyone who falls into molten slag, its tradition that the last ingot poured from the steel someone died in is set up on the grounds as a kind of tombstone. Tombsteel. Non-grave marker.

But the steel mill owner Vince Paretta is quick to reassure prospective buyer Tony Stark that this doesn’t happen often, swearsies! This plant has an A-1 safety rating! He then drags Tony off to finalize negotiations.

As the workers and executives leave the yard, the sky fills with dark roiling clouds. The recently placed ingot begins to quake and smoke and finally

OH YEAH

A giant naked flame man bursts out from within it.

Obviously, this kind of pyrotechnic makes some noise and inside the office, Stark, Paretta, and Wonder Man have heard it and see the fire man heading towards them.

Wonder Man tells Paretta to get his security team scrambled while Wonder Man goes to slow the thing down. But he tells Tony to stay right where he is, in the soon to be abandoned office.

Which conveniently gives Tony the opening to change into his armor.

Outside, this monster gets named in the most logical way possible. Some random thing that someone shouts at it, yelling "H-holy Hannah! That thing looks like a living inferno!” and thus we will call this creature Inferno. As the caption box lampshades “The description fits.”

Wonder Man rushes forward to fight the shambling mass of man-shaped slag. He just runs right up and puts all his strength behind one mighty THRAM of a punch.

“But Inferno takes that punch, and -- almost politely -- returns it!”

FWOBOMM and also a SKABASH as Wonder Man smashes through a wall, headfirst.

Iron Man flies up from behind the creature and attempts to take it down with a blast of repulsor. But the creature shoots some of its own molten slag substance at the armored Avenger.

He’s protected from the heat by the refractory coating on the armor but the extra weight from the cooling slag throws off his balance and he SPUTCHs to the ground.

And now that both he and Iron Man have been made fools, Wonder Man concludes that this Inferno is big trouble. He decides to activate the emergency beacon he was given when he became a backup Avenger.

But as he does, Inferno ominously looms over him.

IN THE RECENT PAST AT AVENGERS MANSION.

Jarvis is happy that the loosened restrictions on the Avengers means that he is allowed to perform monitor duty now. That way the Avengers are free to do the Avengersy stuff.

Makes sense.

You don’t have CEOs personally manning call centers. You probably don’t need a superhero to watch a bunch of monitors.

But maybe we should and do.

Anyway.

Just as Jarvis has said all of that, the emergency beacon goes off. Shortly, Ms. Marvel reports to Captain America that Wonder Man has activated his top priority emergency beacon.

Captain America: “But what could possibly be in Pittsburgh that could threaten Wonder Man?”

He was knocked out by a stone man once. Hell, he was knocked out by Beast once. Lets not act like Wonder Man’s durability isn’t highly arbitrary.

But here’s an additional thing. The beacon was designed to keep pleeping until shut off at the mansion OR if the beacon itself is totally destroyed.

And Wonder Man’s signal just stopped.

DUN DUN DUN!

Next issue: Battleground: Pittsburgh!

This is a two-parter and we’re only half done so I’ll have more to say when we finish that other parter.

One thing though: if the Avengers were going to end up going to Pittsburgh because of Wonder Man’s emergency beacon then why set up the plot point that they were considering visiting him to offer him membership on the team?

One or the other would have sufficed, comic!

Either they go visit and coincidentally end up there just when he needs help with a living inferno or they decide to offer him membership when he gets back from his trip.

I don’t know why this bothered me enough to comment on but that’s the world we live in now.

Hey, follow @essential-avengers. Not only for great content like this but older. BUT ALSO: I just remembered that I’d promised to cover some alternate Avengers if I hit 20 followers and we’re at 13. Which is more than half of 20 by at least three. If we hit 20 followers you can ask that I look at one of these significant alternate Avengerses. You could even ask me to take a peep at the Mangaverse Avengers or United They Stand Avengers, you bastards.

[tensify]

Love Bouquet {Flowershop! Haechan}

Pairing: Haechan X Reader

Request: “hello!! can you do a haechan flower shop au please?”

Genre: Fluff; Flowershop! AU; College! AU; Bulleted Scenario

Word Count: 1727

Summary: Who knew your old high school crush would be helping you pass your floral design class in college?

you recently graduated from high school and are now attending university

when looking at your schedule, you notice that you were put in an elective class called floral design

confused, you talk to an administrator to get this all sorted out

because why would you want to take a floral design class when that wasn’t even close to being your major?

you were really hoping that you would be able to switch classes

unfortunately, you’re not able to

so now you were stuck with this floral design class that you didn’t even want

and you would have to attend the class because you needed to keep up your GPA in order to keep your scholarship

the first time you came attended the class, you thought to yourself, well this is easy

well you were wrong

the class was in the morning and you were always tired from staying up late to study that you fell asleep during this class

let’s just say you weren’t doing too hot and needed some extra help

except you didn’t know anyone in your class (because you were always asleep) so you couldn’t exactly ask for help

one day you notice that there’s a flower shop across from your favorite restaurant 

and you think to yourself, what if the florist there could help me?

but then you’re like nah because it would be weird for a random person to go in and say “can you help me with my homework?”

eventually you regret the decision to not go in

now you were desperate

you had a test next week and guess who didn’t understand any of the material???

you!!! 

bc you played yourself

desperate times called for desperate measures

you were going to go into the flowershop even if you were embarrassed 

because despite you always saying “C’s get degrees” you really didn’t want that as your grade

so you go into this dainty lil flowershop

and your eyes divert toward the counter where you see a familiar face

you see donghyuck, a boy who went to your high school

admittedly, you had a crush on him in high school

as did many others in the student body

he was cute, funny, and full of charms and charisma 

it was hard to not fall for him

you knew he attended the same university as you, but you’ve never really seen him around

seeing him again may have brought up your past attraction to him

you thought you were over him?

BAM! you caught feelings again

there was just something about him that made you fall for him even if you didn’t know him very well

back in high school, he would always make jokes during class and you remember just laughing your ass off at all his jokes

from what you observed, he had a great personality, it’s just you didn’t know much about him

but of course, you never really did get to know him more because you were always too scared to talk to him

but now you were standing right in front of him at this flowershop, not saying a single word

which was embarrassing on your part

you didn’t even know he worked here, which proved how little you knew about him

after a while, haechan speaks up “did you need something?”

im always using names interchangeably im really sorry if this bothers anyone

and you just freeze, your body going into fight or flight mode

realizing you’re making a complete fool of yourself, you decide to speak up before you embarrass yourself any longer

“do you happen to know anything about flowers?” you ask

you mentally face palm yourself because obviously he would if he was working here!!

maybe you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself if you didn’t speak at all

“no, I’m working at a flowershop and no absolutely nothing about flowers” he says sarcastically

you’re taken aback from his words because you weren’t expecting it and you were already so nervous in front of him

you stutter on your words, not knowing what to say in response

donghyuck notices your flusterdness and apologizes

then you proceed to ask him if he could help you in your floral design class

which lead to a “i’m in your class!! but you probably didn’t know since you’re always sleeping”

curious, you ask him how he knew that because you swear you’ve never seen him in your class

“you sit in front of me. i always see the back of your head and it’s always on the desk”

now you’re like shit, since you discovered that your former crush sits behind you in class!!! and notices you sleeping all the time!!!

haechan agrees to help you with the class

so the next time you come to class you look behind you, and sure enough you see him

he gives you a small wave and you turn around feeling butterflies in your stomach

because boy was he cute!!

later that day you met him in the library so he could help you with the class

he brought a binder which had a bunch of pictures and descriptions of each flower

he was really focused on making you learn everything

but you couldn’t focus because of the cute boy next to you

your head felt fried, all the thoughts in your head just scrambling

does anyone else want eggs rn??

“hey, are you listening to me?” he asks

you snap out of your daze and nod your head yes

“i think we’re done for today, we can continue tomorrow”

so as you start to pack up your stuff, getting ready to leave

donghyuck is like “wait, y/n. i have something to as you”

and you’re not sure why, but you were scared bc what could he possible need to ask you?

“is it true...that you had a crush on me in high school? a lot of people told me you did but i didn’t know if it was true”

your eyes widened at the question

you just did not know how to respond

yes, it was true that you had a crush on him in high school and it was even true now that you have a crush on him now

it was embarrassing, you didn’t want him to know about your crush on him

“uhhhh” was all you could say

“don’t worry I had a crush on you too” he said

if it was even possible, your eyes had widened even more

you were shook™

letting out a nervous laugh, you proceed to gather all your things and leave

when you went home all you could think about was donghyuck and how he said he had a crush on you too

you wondered if he still did and if you could ever had a chance with him

for the next few days, you had awkward tutoring sessions

well they were for you

donghyuck acted like his normal self, cracking a few jokes and there

they were just awkward for you because you were shy and nervous around him

within the past few days, there were only a few things you remembered

and when asked for what you remembered, all you could say was “red roses mean love and desire, gardenias mean secret love, and red tulips were a declaration of love”

“that’s all you can remember?” he asks, because boy did he teach you way more than that. “they’re all about love”

here you are again, with the heat rushing to your cheeks

“uhm those are just the easiest ones to remember” you defend yourself

and he laughs at your cuteness

the next day was different

you notice he had a bouquet of flowers

all the the flowers you mentioned yesterday were in the bouquet

red roses, red tulips, and gardenias

thinking back to the day before, you recall that all these flowers meant love

“i made this flower arrangement for you” he says

you are in utter shock you could just not believe it

did lee donghyuck,,, really,,,just make a flower arrangement for you?

hE DID

“i’ve had a crush on you since the tenth grade” he confesses. “now it’s our freshman year of college and i figure it’s about time i do something about it”

now you’re a mess

but alls i can say is during this session you guys cutely keep looking at each other and smiling

he reaches to hold your hand and it’s warm and something about it is just so comforting

but to be honest you still don’t remember anything he tried to teach you

eventually, your days are numbered

your test was coming soon and you seriously haven’t remembered a thing

donghyuck came up with a new way of teaching you

this time, he was going to bring you bouquets of flowers and would teach you individually

and you could keep it too

that really did help you because it wasn’t like you were trying to learn this subject but it was like learning the meaning of a gift he gave you

soon enough, you were all set for that flower design class, thanks to haechan

you learn that you have aced the test about flowers and its meanings

you go into that cute little flowershop to see your now boyfriend and thank him

“can i get a bouquet of yellow tulips” you say

your boyfriend goes and prepares you a bouquet of yellow tulips

and as you’re about to pay, he stops you and tells you it’s on him

as soon as he hands it to you, you give it right back to him

“I remember that yellow tulips meant ‘sunshine in your smile’. yellow tulips remind me of you because your smile is my sunshine” you say

donghyuck just about made the biggest grin in his entire life

he was so happy and his grin went from ear to ear

it was so cheesy but he loved it

now i imagine dating donghyuck would be very sweet at first but like the evil maknae he is, there’s a turn

you can’t be around him without any roasting or pranks

sometimes he sends you orange lilies, which as pretty as it is, means hate

it means no harm because you know he loves you :)

what a cute fluffy relationship

goodbye and i think this is my favorite writing so far :’)

masterlist

[hmhteen]

HMH Teen Teaser: TIME BOMB by Joelle Charbonneau!

Tick…tick…tick…time is almost up before you new fave psychological thriller hits bookstores! If you loved ONE OF US IS LYING or THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS (and even THE BREAKFAST CLUB!) you will love this twisty turny thriller about a group of teens caught in their school when a bomb goes off. The problem? One of them is responsible. (Cue dramatic music here.)

Scroll down for an exclusive excerpt!

1:51 p. m .

“Don’t fight,” Cas said from the doorway that Frankie and Z had just disappeared through. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Can we turn the radio back on? Maybe they’ll tell us help is finally coming.”

Rashid clicked on the radio before heading over to help Tad. There was the buzz of static, then the announcer telling ev- eryone that the firefighters were making progress. The fire was contained to the west side, and they hoped to have it out soon.

“With one person of interest being questioned, authorities are now working to find another individual they have con- firmed is involved in this terrible bombing. A source confirms that the individual is one of the students trapped on the second floor of the school. With four bombs having already gone off, there appears to be one explosive device still inside the school that could detonate at any time.”

Another bomb was ready to go off, and the bomber was one of them.

Earlier   Tha t  Da y  .  . .

8:35  a.m. 

 D i a n a

 —  C h a p t e r  1  —

All you had to do was smile and wear the right clothes, and everyone would think you were special. If you appeared successful, people would automatically assume you were suc- cessful. Her parents believed that. Her father had built a career on it. They wanted her to believe it.

Diana hated that she did.

“Perception is everything, Diana,” her stepmother said so often that Diana wanted to scream. But screaming wasn’t pre- sentable. And, boy, did it make the wrong impression. This made screaming at the top of her lungs very tempting.

“Always take care to make the correct choice, Diana,” her stepmother said over and over again. “Everything you do is im- portant and reflects on your father and the positions he takes. And think about what your father’s opponents would claim if you don’t do well in school or become a leader in the activities you’re in. They’ll wonder how serious your father is about edu- cation if his own daughter doesn’t do well in school. The other side is always looking for a reason to point fingers and show that your father isn’t worthy of his position. That we aren’t worthy. So you can’t allow your grades or your attention to detail to slide, or you’ll hurt your father and, worse, you’ll hurt the work he’s trying to do.”

Diana looked down at the clothes she’d chosen for the day. After sixteen years, she knew exactly what details would be no- ticed and what people would think when they saw her.

Stylish white jeans. A tasteful pink top. But nothing too expensive, because that made people jealous. Nothing too tight, because that gave people the wrong idea. And no wrinkles. Wrinkles made people think you were lazy. No one trusts a per- son who is lazy. To get what you wanted in life, you must in- spire trust — even if you intended to break it.

Her father inspired trust with his perfectly tailored suits that were made less stuffy because he never wore a tie and al- ways left the collar open.

Folksy. Friendly. Everyone’s idea of the perfect dad and for- mer army-communications specialist who always puts his family and country first. At least that’s what people must have thought, because he got elected. He was working hard to make sure he got to keep his job for another term, and it was their family’s job — Diana’s job — to make sure she didn’t do anything wrong that could make voters question whether they wanted him back in office.

No pressure there.

“Katherine?” she yelled, knowing how much her stepmother hated raised voices. No response. She must have already gone downstairs. Dad would be in meetings already. Diana bit her lip as she reached for the gold studs Katherine gave her for her sixteenth birthday, then added the gold-cross necklace that had technically been from her father. She’d pretended not to notice when one of his aides handed him the box that he’d clearly been unaware of up until that moment.

“Little touches make all the difference,” Katherine insisted. “People notice the details.”

Yes, they did, Diana thought as she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the ratty friendship bracelet she’d made for herself years ago, wishing she’d had someone to give it to and to get one in return from. No one ever assumed the popular girl needed to be given a gift. No one thought about whether the popular girl was lonely when she went home. Everyone as- sumed the popular girl had a million friends and a family who supported her.

Diana walked to her mirror and checked her makeup. Just enough to make her blue eyes look bigger. Nothing more, or people might question whether she was a good girl. And she was supposed to be a good girl. She ticked off her stepmother’s checklist one by one.

Good shoes. A nice home. Top grades.

Smart, respectable family tree. Perfect manners.

All signs of a strong, well-brought-up girl. A girl everyone claimed to know from school. One parents and teachers pointed to as an example to others. One who had been taught to calcu- late her appearance and demeanor down to the plain red color of her cell-phone case. One who was determined to use it all to show everyone that it was foolish to trust what someone wanted you to see.

Perfect.

And if she didn’t want to ruin her perfect image, Diana would have to get moving. Tardiness was not acceptable for a girl who was supposed to be without flaws. Tardiness implied a lack of respect for other people’s time.

Glancing at her watch, she shook her head and hurried downstairs to find her stepmother so she could get a ride to school for the yearbook meeting.

“Katherine?” she called.

No answer. Huh. Well, Katherine was probably in the back- yard making sure the staff had polished the patio furniture to a shine so that guests could be invited back to the house after the event tonight.

“Katherine?”

“Your mother went out.”

“What?” She turned and spotted her father standing next to the porch swing with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Since there was no point in correcting him about Katherine’s relation- ship to her, she simply asked, “Where?”

He put up a hand to quiet her. “Yes, I’m here, and yes, I understand there’s been some pushback, but I can’t step back from the bill, or I’ll get hammered. The press will smell blood and it’ll be over, and we all know I’m right on this. I just need one thing to tip in my favor. You have to trust me on this.”

Diana started to speak again, but before she could get a word out, her father turned his back and nodded. She would have to get in line for his attention.

“Yes. I’ll make that distinction tonight, and don’t worry. The event will be the perfect place to highlight the positive points in the bill and to take charge of the conversation. If you have other things you want to talk about, I’ll be at the office in a half-hour. Good speaking with you, too, Tim. I appreciate your dedication. We’re going to turn things around.” Finally he hung up and turned toward her.

He was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a red polo shirt under a deep blue sports coat — relaxed authority was what her stepmother called the look. But despite the clothes, Diana didn’t think her father appeared relaxed.

“That was Tim?”

Her father nodded. “He’s worried about the negative press my Safety Through Education bill is getting.”

Tim hadn’t been on her father’s staff as long as the oth- ers, but he was smart and perceptive, which is why her father’s chief of staff hired him right out of graduate school. And even though he was younger than the rest of the staff, Diana knew Tim was right to be worried about her father’s bill. The press was calling it an invasion of privacy. The law would require that students and teachers inform the administration if they thought someone in the school might be interested in doing harm to students, teachers, or school property. Any students reported would then have to hand over their passwords to social media and email accounts or face suspension and a potential inves- tigation by federal authorities. Those who didn’t report suspi- cions before a harmful event could be charged with aiding and abetting.

Her father believed the law would turn everything in the country around and would finally do what no other laws had been able to do — make things safer. Any students interested in causing trouble would think twice about it if they knew their friends and teachers were watching them and ready to act on any suspicious activity. And by catching and circumventing threatening behavior early, there was a good chance of diverting those students toward a more positive path. Her father was cer- tain that taking action in the schools and the education system was the best way of changing the escalating pattern of violence in the country.

“Was there another bad story in the press?” Diana asked. Not everyone agreed with her father’s thoughts on how to keep the country safe. Since the unveiling of the bill, there had been phone calls and mail and huge editorials about invasion of pri- vacy and people’s differing definitions of what a “threat” to society actually was. Diana had even gotten hate mail for her father’s idea. When she had tried to talk to her father about it, he had just told her to give the mail to Tim and ignore it. That everything would work out. But when Tim had sat with her and listened to her talk about the threats she’d gotten and how people made a point of telling her they were going to vote her father out of office, Tim had admitted the backlash was concerning. If the tide of bad press and angry editorials about the potential law continued, they both agreed that it would be sunk before it ever had a chance to be tested. And her father’s career — one she had been told was necessary to make the world better — would be sunk along with it.

Was it any wonder Tim wanted to pull out all the stops to make sure her father’s event tonight got the press’s attention, or that she was willing to do whatever it took to help? It was nice to have someone finally realize that she was capable of helping, and to finally listen to her when she had an idea. And Tim had said he was glad he could run ideas by someone without having to worry about her telling the senator that his ideas were too radical or that he wasn’t up to the job.

Her father shrugged and gave her his own practiced smile. “Some of my co-sponsors are wondering if we should shelve the idea for more study, but Tim has some polling that says retreat- ing might do more harm than good. I’m not worried. Tim and the others have a plan to make this all come together.”

“If you need me —”

Her father held up his hand as the phone rang. The phone was always ringing. “I’ll catch this on my way to the office.” He looked at Diana and gave her a tense smile. “Your mother left a note for you on the counter. You can help by making sure you’re ready when she comes to pick you up. I need everything to be perfect if we’re going to turn this around.” Then, before she could say anything, her father put the phone to his ear and said, “Larry, I’m glad you called …” as he disappeared into the house.

Diana hurried after him, but he didn’t bother to look back. A minute later, Diana heard the front door slam behind him as he left before she could remind him that she needed a ride. And when she read her stepmother’s note, she knew she wasn’t going to get one from her, either.

Diana dear,

I’ll be home to pick you up at four. Wear the

blue satin dress hanging in your closet and leave

your hair down. Please be on time. Tonight is very

important to all of us.

Katherine

She stared at the letter.

Be on time.

Leave your hair down. Tonight is important.

But, clearly, driving Diana to school today was not.

She turned the bracelet on her arm again, looked at her stepmother’s words one more time, hearing each of them ring- ing in her head along with all the other things she’d said over the years.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Diana.” Because they might differ from what she was supposed to think. And that wasn’t allowed.

“Remember that we’re counting on you.” Yes. They were.

Diana headed back upstairs to the antique toy chest in the corner of her room. Quickly, she dumped the decorative pillows and extra blanket stacked on top onto the floor, then lifted the lid. She pulled out two bags. In the side pocket of one of the bags, she found the list she’d made for herself a few weeks ago and put it in her pocket.

A quick glance at the clock told her she’d better get going or she’d be late for the yearbook meeting. Yesterday she’d moved the meeting to two hours earlier than originally scheduled. She doubted anyone would be thrilled that she’d asked them to change their plans simply to make them wait.

Diana turned, took one last look in the mirror and saw what her family wanted her to be. What she had tried so hard to pretend to be.

Perfect. Someone everyone expected to do the right thing and no one would ever suspect of doing something wrong.

Good.

Booting up her computer, she sent a quick message to Tim, telling him that she was going to school now. Then Diana care- fully picked up her bags and headed downstairs and out the door. Her father thought the only contribution he needed from her was for her to nod and smile and look flawless — like their family was supposed to be. She was determined to prove him wrong.

   9:52  a.m.

R a s h i d

—  C h a p t e r  2  —

“Why do you have to go to the school today?” his father asked, coming into the kitchen. Rashid had hoped to get out of the house before his father had gotten home from the hospital. So much for that idea. “Your classes do not start for another week.”

Rashid hefted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and explained, “I need a new school ID, Father.”

“What happened to your old one?” His father looked at him with a frown.

“I lost it when  we were visiting with  Sitto last month.” Technically, that was true. Although Rashid knew his words implied that he accidentally left his ID behind at his grand- mother’s in Palestine. “The office is open for new students to get IDs. I thought I should do it now instead of waiting until school starts.”

His father nodded, then glanced at the kitchen clock. “Will you be back by the start of Dhuhr?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I can call and see if the office will be open during the af- ternoon. If you wait, we can pray together, and then maybe you can take your sister. It would be good for her to see the school without so many people. It’ll help her get used to the idea of going there next year. You could introduce her to some of your friends.”

His sister already knew most of his friends, since they either lived nearby or went to mosque together. The others …

His father thought he understood what it was like for Rashid at school, but he had no idea. He didn’t listen. Or maybe Rashid’s cousins in Palestine were right, and it was Rashid’s fault he didn’t completely fit in, because he did not know who he was or what he wanted.

A few years ago, he would have brought his sister with him to school. But that was then. Now … so much had changed. He was different. His sister certainly was, and his friends … They all still enjoyed the comics and building robots, which held their friendships together. But Rashid could tell there were other things — like the facial hair that he had started growing earlier than anyone else in his class, and the adherence to his faith that prevented him from shaving it — that were creating an invisible wall between them.

He bit back the anger that seemed harder and harder to keep hidden and respectfully said, “Next time. I don’t know who will be there, and I don’t want her to have a bad experience.”

It was hard enough for Rashid to fit in, especially now. He didn’t want to bring Arissa. The hijab made her stand out even more than his untrimmed beard did. But Arissa didn’t seem to mind wearing it. More than once, she said that she liked the attention the hijab brought, and it helped her know exactly who her friends were. The hijab signaled who she was and that she was proud of her heritage. She said if people didn’t like it, they could just get out of her way.

Rashid wondered if it wasn’t easier for her because the hi- jab was so obvious and its meaning so clear. Since some of the other students chose to grow beards and mustaches, his own beard was sometimes interpreted as a personal choice instead of a mandate of faith. But it often raised questions he could see in people’s eyes that never got spoken aloud — not even by his friends. If he had been braver, he might just have sat down and talked to his friends about it and helped them understand. Instead, he let the silences get longer.

Now he felt he had only one option open to him.

“I should probably go now so I don’t have to stand in line all day,” Rashid said, feeling the weight of the bag pulling on his shoulder. “I will pray at school.” There were plenty of empty classrooms. Since it wasn’t a school day, he wouldn’t have to worry about people making fun of him washing in the bathroom first. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

His father smiled. “No need to rush. If you see people you know, you should spend time with them. You haven’t had the chance to see any of your friends this summer. The best life has balance. Maybe while you’re at school, you can see if there are any new clubs you’d like to join, although I still think you should take photos for the yearbook. The pictures you took this summer are very good.”

“I’ll look into it,” Rashid said, knowing he wouldn’t. He had other things to do. He just hoped his father would be able to understand.

“Good.” His father patted him on the arm and frowned. “Why are you taking your school bag?”

Rashid smiled to hide his nerves. “I’m bringing some note- books and comic books and a couple of other things to put in my locker so I don’t have to bring everything on the first day. I like having stuff to read in study hall.”

He also read when his friends were late for lunch, to avoid drawing the attention of some of the football players, who liked to harass him.

“Using extra time for study is always good.” His father pat- ted him on the arm again. “Do you have your Koran?”

“No,” Rashid said, shifting toward the door. “I’m leaving it here. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait a second.” His father disappeared out of the kitchen and returned holding a thick paperback that Rashid had no choice but to take. “You might be glad to have it at school with you.”

Rashid forced himself to thank his father, but he couldn’t meet his eyes as he walked out the door. He put the book in the bag and headed to school, still trying to decide if he was going to go through with his plan.

Was this really the time to draw the line in the sand?

He thought about the names he’d  been called last year and how uncomfortable his non-Muslim friends looked when they pretended that they were all the same. That nothing had changed.

He wished nothing had changed. More than anything, he wanted to turn back the clock to before the beard and the sus- picion it brought into focus. Things had already been hard then, but they had been better.

Hitching the bag so that the weight was better distributed, Rashid frowned and started walking faster. If he was going to change things, he had to do it today. He only hoped that he had the courage to do what needed to be done.

9:58  a.m.

Z

— C h a p t e r 3 —

“You’re Kicking me out?” Sweat pricked Z’s back and forehead. He should have had two more months. His mother had said they’d agreed. And now he was getting screwed.

Z turned his back on the landlord’s son. He couldn’t look at the satisfied smile on the jerk’s pimply face without wanting to deck the guy. Z felt like hitting something — everything.

“Not exactly,” Nick said. “I mean, I know my dad and your mom talked about trying to lower the rent over the sum- mer to help you out, but my dad realized that if he changed the terms of the lease for you, he’d have to do it for everyone, and you know how that goes. It’s not like my father wants to do this.”

Sure he does, Z thought. He just doesn’t want to say he wants to boot the guy who’s just lost his mother to cancer. That would make him have to admit he’s a crappy person. But that’s what he was. All Nick’s father knew was that a guaranteed rent check was dead and buried. It was time to find a new one, and to hell with anything else. Yeah — Z knew exactly how that went. 

“I’m sure this is breaking your father’s heart.” Z clenched his fists and looked out the narrow window over the sink. If he closed his eyes, he could still see his mother standing there, washing dishes … when she had been well enough to do some- thing that normal.

“Hey, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Z turned and stared at the guy. Nick straight- ened his shoulders but took a step back, tugging at the hem of his dirty T-shirt. “Your father made a promise to my dying mom, and two weeks after she’s gone, he sends you to tell me he was just kidding.”

Nick took another step back and swallowed hard. “He’s re- ally sorry about this.”

“Sure he is.” Everyone was sorry. Z was so tired of hearing everyone tell him how damn sorry they were. Only they weren’t. But they would be. Soon. Very soon. Z unclenched his fists and turned back toward the off-white fridge that his mother had plastered with photographs. “Tell your dad not to beat himself up about it. It’s no problem, Nicky,” he added, yanking open the fridge. The cool air washed over him, helping to tamp down the anger he wanted to let break free. Despite the open windows, the apartment was sweltering.

“Hey, kid, if it was up to me, I would let you stay. I know things are tough. After everything that happened, this really sucks, but —”

“It’s fine,” Z said, grabbing a bottle of tap water out of the fridge. It wasn’t fine. There was nothing fine about being told by a twenty-seven-year-old guy who lived in his parents’ basement and had Cheetos stains on his T-shirt that you had to clear out in three weeks. Adios, boy. Don’t let the door hit your long-haired, tattooed self on the way out.

“Look, my father would like to be able to let you stay. He really liked your mom. She was a nice lady.”

“Yeah.” Z closed the fridge and looked at the photo of his mother’s happy, healthy face pressed next to his five-year-old chocolate-coated one. “She was great.”

Was.

He swallowed hard while, behind him, Nick Mansanelli said, “I could talk to my dad about having you do some work on our cars in exchange for staying in their attic. It’s not the best place, but it would give you some time to sort out whatever it is you’re going to do next. I’m sure you could use the —”

“No need.” Z would rather sleep in a ditch than become slave labor for anyone. He uncapped the cold water and took a drink. “Tell your dad pretty soon he won’t have to worry about dealing with me ever again.”

Nick took another step back and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he looked around.  “Can I …  you know … help you do anything? Do you need some boxes or tape?” Nick turned toward the living room and nodded. “You got a lot of stuff to pack up around here. Why don’t I —”

“No.” Before Nick could step into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Z stalked forward and blocked him. “I don’t need your help.” Z didn’t need anyone.

Nick frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s no prob —”

“I’m sure,” Z said as the phone in his back pocket chimed. He pulled it out and looked down at the display.

YOU OK? DID YOU HEAR FROM YOUR UNCLE IN CALIFORNIA? I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU. PLEASE TALK TO ME.

Kaitlin.

Of all the people who said they wanted to help, she actually did. But there wasn’t much more she could do or say. She kept telling him it was okay to be angry. That it would get better if he just gave it time. They all warned him about making deci- sions too fast. Urged him to give the relatives he barely remem- bered a chance to reach out. He had to give things time.

But time wasn’t going to change the fact that his mother was dead and that everything sucked.

Kaitlin had been there for him when everyone else had bailed. Extended family. Neighbors. Teachers. He’d tried to tell her to get lost when she followed him out of the school after he’d been in detention. But she dogged him all the way to the parking lot and insisted he give her a ride home. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital where his mother got treatments. It wasn’t as if he was going to say no, but that didn’t mean he was going to talk to her. Which was probably what Kaitlin wanted, since she had plenty to say. Kaitlin had been determined to be his friend, even when he didn’t want her to be. Even when he  cut school more than he bothered to go. If it hadn’t been for her, he wasn’t sure he would have made it this far.

And now he was going to cut her loose before he dragged her down. She deserved better.

Z shoved the phone into his pocket and looked back at Nick. “Look,” Z said with a deliberate sigh. “If that’s all you came here for, I’ve got to get going. There’s a teacher I have to talk to

at school, and I don’t want to miss him.”

Nick slapped Z on the shoulder. The universal sign for I want you to think I’ve got your back, even though I plan on screw- ing you the first chance I get. “Hey, no problem. I just came by to see how you were doing and make sure you didn’t need any- thing before —”

Before you chucked me to the curb. Z again clenched his hands into fists at his side, and Nick backed up a step.

Finally, the guy turned toward the front door and said, “Hey, make sure to take care of yourself. And give them hell at that school. I never liked it much anyway.”

At last, one thing they could agree on.

Z chugged the water, then headed down the hall toward his room to grab his father’s old army duffle and the letter that had arrived last week. His cell phone chimed as he was slinging the bag onto his shoulders, but he ignored it. He had things to do.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the picture of him and Mom and slid it next to his phone. He then walked out of the apartment. No need to lock the door. If someone wanted to clear the rest out, let them. He was going to school, and he wasn’t coming back.

***

The tension is killing us! If you want to dive deeper into the mysterious world of TIME BOMB, you can pre-order it at one of the links below!

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[yourkeeperoftherunners]

You Sound so Good on Radio (RapMon AU)

Plot: AU You’re a DJ at your university’s student-run radio club and were called in to do a sample show last minute for a tour group of potential students. You caught his attention and he knew that he couldn’t go anywhere else. Especially if it meant he could share the airwaves with you at some point.

Rating: PG-13 (Language, implied cheating)

Characters: University Student!Kim Namjoon/Rap Monster x female Reader, University Student/Radio Club President!Kris (EXO-M), University Student/Fellow DJ!Johnny (NCT-127), and mentions of Seokjin and Yoongi (BTS)

Notes: This is an AU setting – all characters, background content, and storyline are fictional! This was an idea I’ve had kicking around in my head inspired by the writer’s personal experience of working in student-run radio shows at school. (It sat on the back burner until I realized it would be a good fit for music lover and brainy student Kim Namjoon.) Y/S/N stands for “your screen name”, Y/E/N is “your ex’s name”, and Y/DJ/N is “your DJ name.”

Happy Birthday Namjoon!

“Can I ask you to do a last minute show?”

“Uhhh maybe,” you drawled as you pressed your phone to your ear, “when?”

He sucked in a sharp breath and forced a smile as he revealed that he needed you to get over to the student radio booth in 40 minutes. Your eyes widened and you changed direction.

“Damn you Kris,” you hissed as you dug around in your bag, briefly checking that you had the essentials. “You’re lucky my next class was canceled – what’s this all about?”

“Potential students tour,” Kris explained. “Sorry Y/N – they threw this on me last minute too. Admissions wanted to show off the student radio program and they wanted a show playing live when the tour came through. I sort of panicked and didn’t know who to ask.”

“You owe me,” you warned him as you made a beeline for the studio, unlocking the door with your ID card. “Are there any rules Admissions set?”

“No profanity because it’s a daytime show, don’t run over into the next scheduled show’s slot…” Kris trailed off, biting his lip. “Um maybe pick some happy tunes or something? I don’t know – just make it seem cool to join radio, okay?”

“I’ll try. Wonder why they care all of sudden,” you droned as you pulled out your laptop and began pulling songs into a playlist.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asked.

“Make it the largest size available and you’re a godsend,” you said before hanging up. You plugged in the cords from the dashboard and began adding in bumpers that would play in between every 3 songs to promote the studio radio station. Complaints aside, radio was a welcome escape for you whenever you wanted a break from the stress of college. Anyone could apply to have a radio program, as long as they showed up for their time slot, followed the radio airwave rules, and attended the radio meetings that took place every other week.

“You’re listening to a special broadcast of Nocturnal Beats, coming to you live and in stereo from the radio station,” you announced into the microphone. “You just heard music from Halsey, a beautiful cover of Adele’s “Hello” by Alice Olivia, and “Skool Luv” by BTS. Speaking of school love, why not show your support for our talented lacrosse team at this Saturday’s game? Game starts at 7 PM, tickets are $7 at the gate…” You tore a glance at the bulletin board nearby to make sure you were covering all of the announcements posted during your talking break. From the corner of your left eye, you spotted a large group of families coming into the building, led by a student tour guide. Satisfied that you covered everything posted, you wrapped up your talking segment as you teased the next few songs coming up in the hour.

“Over here is the student radio booth – all of the programs broadcast are put on by students for students,” the guide said as she gestured to the booth. “Parents and friends are welcome to download the app or live stream it from your computer or WI-fi enabled devices to listen in as well. We have programs running 7 days a week from 7 AM to midnight, ranging from music, talk shows, and we’ve even had a few radio dramas played during the airwaves.”

You avoided the crowd’s gaze as you slotted in a bumper that announced that they were tuned into the student radio site, before blending it out to the next song – a mellow R&B tune from BIGBANG called “Blue”. You pulled the headphones off and switched the mic to off before checking the volume controls and scrolling through the radio instant chat function to answer messages.

js_giraffe: U cheating on me for daytime?

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you typed back to Johnny, AKA your friend who hosted a late night rant/talk show on Wednesdays. Occasionally you put in a guest appearance if he needed someone to banter with on the topics of choice for the shows – most people found your dynamic with him hilarious, especially if he tried to switch accents while you called him out for being a loser.

Y/S/N: ha try Kris needed someone to show off for the tour groups.

js_giraffe: O.o The model DJ…

js_giraffe: I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!

Y/S/N: STFU

Y/S/N: It’s a one-time deal – get over your damn self!

“Now if you follow me, I’ll show you the mailroom,” the tour guide announced as she gestured to a hallway. Most of the families began to follow her to the next room while one young man lingered behind, tilting his head as he watched you switch between answering Johnny’s IMs and queuing more music for the remaining 15 minutes. He glanced over his shoulder at the group and quickly made up his mind to walk over to the glass separating you from him, tapping lightly on it.

You jerked your head up from looking at your laptop screen and held up a finger as you got up, making your way over to the entrance to the booth.

“Hi, may I help you?” you asked as you stuck your head out.

“Oh um ye-yeah!” the young man said. “How is the radio program here? Do you like it?” he asked with a faint accent.

“It’s a lot of fun,” you said slowly with a smile. “I really like it – this is my second year doing it. I started last spring and I’ve been doing it ever since. You can focus on any topic/style of show you want for the most part.” You frowned when you noticed the tour group was long gone.

“Oh I think you um-”

“I’ll find them – no worries,” he replied. He asked you more questions about the studio equipment, scheduling, requirements, etc. before you realized you were at the final 2 minutes of your program.

“Hang on, I need to close out the hour,” you apologized before running back into the station. You slipped the headphones on and turned the mic on, fading out the last song that was playing. “Looks like it’s last call gang – thanks for tuning into this special edition. I’ll catch you at my usual slot Friday night from 10-11 PM. Until then.” You turned off the mic and carefully unplugged your laptop, turning on instrumentals recorded in the station’s dashboard’s memory to fill the void while you packed up. Once you secured your bag on your shoulder, you headed to the door and frowned when you saw the young man was gone.

“So are you crossing this school off your list Joonie?” Yoongi asked his friend over the phone. “I mean, it’s kind of far and you don’t know a lot of English –“

“Actually I think I’m going to apply,” Namjoon replied with a grin as he leaned against the wall. “Campus is nice, professors seem decent, and I like their student life.”

“Wae?! But you can’t leave meeeeeeee!!!” the other male whined. “You’ll be too far away!”

“I think you can survive without me,” Namjoon chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair. “Besides, we can always call or Skype. Plus I’ll be home for the holidays.”

“But you have to apply first,” Seokjin interrupted, taking the phone from Yoongi. “There’s no guarantee this school will take you. Make sure you have back-ups in case.”

Namjoon snorted as he changed his phone to his other ear. He reassured Seokjin that he’d apply to a few local schools back home, just to be safe before hanging up and heading back to the area where the tour started. It was clear in his mind – he was getting in here no matter what.

“Welcome back,” Johnny greeted you as you took a seat in the auditorium beside him.

“Right back at you,” you replied, dropping your bag on the ground. “How was your summer?”

He shrugged and muttered that he split his time between Chicago and South Korea, thanks to his parents’ divorce. You listened as he described the tension during each stay, as both single parents had expressed their true feelings about one another to Johnny.

“Sorry Johnny,” you said with a sympathetic smile, “hey so, are you doing late night again?”

Johnny nodded and you confirmed that you were in again for another late night slot, as it was your favorite time to broadcast. You weren’t forced to be as strict with the profanity during timeslots closer to midnight and it was a fun way to get hyped for the weekend. Because this would be your third year of radio, you’d get first dibs on timeslots. A few days prior to the start of the new semester, you had gotten an e-mail from Kris asking if you wanted your old timeslot back, which you replied you did.

“All right guys! Can I have your attention please?” Kris called out, trying to regain control of the large group of students chattering away. He waited a few minutes before speaking again.

“Welcome to University Radio Club,” he began, “if you’re here because you’re taking radio as an elective or just because you want to, you’re in the right place. We meet every other week here at 9 PM – attendance is mandatory for those taking this as an elective. If you are brand new to radio, we’ll start taking sign ups for timeslots via e-mail. Please send us your top three choices and we’ll let you know if any are available. Past DJs will get first choice. Any questions so far?”

“The D-bag’s not doing radio anymore, right?” Johnny whispered as he leaned closer to you.

You shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. The “D-bag” in question was your ex, who cheated on you for two sorority chicks during a Greek life party. You swore he purposely chose the timeslot after you so he could saunter in and ruin your good mood with his presence, as his show was after yours for 3 semesters.

“I’ll deal with it like usual,” you muttered as you watched Kris start discussing the history of radio to the students taking this for credit.

“Welcome back to your place for top hits, fresh sounds, and jams to get you in the mood for your weekend – this is Nocturnal Beats!” you said into the mic with a smile. “Hope everyone stayed cool this summer. The bell may have rung but the fun’s never ending – I’ve got some new sounds to share from EXO and Twenty One Pilots so keep it here for this hour.”

Once you switched off the microphone, your phone buzzed with a text from Kris.

Galaxy

I’ll buy you a drink this weekend if you can do a last minute training for the rookie coming in after you.

Sent 10:07 PM

You

Fine.

Sent 10:08 PM

Hang on – rookie? Not Y/E/N?

Sent 10:08 PM

Galaxy

Nah he never answered my e-mail about radio this semester. This guy’s a first year – asked specifically for this slot.

Sent 10:09 PM

Tall, blonde hair in an undercut, name’s Namjoon Kim. He’s doing a rap show.

Sent 10:10 PM

You frowned as you re-read the texts and typed back a simple OK to Kris. Well, you could breathe easy – no asshole ex to deal with this semester. But you were surprised this kid got a prime spot – most first timers weren’t so lucky and would get an afternoon slot or an early morning time. Albeit his radio show content was probably better suited for nighttime versus editing out every curse word and innuendo possible. You’d meet him soon enough.

You shuttled a few IMs to Johnny and tore your gaze away from your laptop to see a tall Asian guy approaching the station, eerily fitting the description Kris texted you. He was busy typing something on his phone as he approached the radio station, walking into the door with a thud.

You blinked as you scrambled to your feet, eyes wide as he staggered back a few steps, wincing and cursing in Korean as he touched his forehead. Without wasting more time, you queued up a few more songs and a bumper before opening the door and checking on him.

“Hey you okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said as he pushed his dark framed glasses up on his nose. He shot you a sheepish smile and put his phone away in his pocket.

You studied him thoughtfully, examining his features. He looked awfully familiar…

“Hey so Y/N right? I don’t know you if you remember me, well I had dark hair last time we met, but um…” he trailed off, a shy smile on his face.

“Hang on, were you the guy who got left behind by the tour group to ask me questions about the radio station?” you recalled as you stepped out of the doorway. “Last semester in mid-March, right?”

He nodded as his smile spread across his face, resulting in the cutest dimples on his cheeks. You blinked as you silently compared the previous image you had of him in your mind to the guy standing before you now. He was cute then but with the blonde color and new haircut, he looked hot. It also sounded like his English had improved and the lingering trace of his accent was barely noticeable. Summer sure was kind to him…

“Wow I didn’t know you got in – congrats!” you replied as you nudged the door open wider, letting him into the station waiting room. “Welcome to university! I can’t believe you decided to take up radio too.”

Namjoon stepped through the doorway and watched as you closed the door to the station. “Well, it’s a funny story,” he began as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “A really chill DJ was doing a special show during my tour visit and she had a really hot voice. I was kind of a loser just staring at her and asking her dumb questions about radio, but she was so patient and really nice. So I felt encouraged to apply – I mean, I liked the classes and the professors too, but hearing this DJ was like the icing on the cake. I wanted to come here and do radio too. Maybe run into her again.”

You ducked your head and smiled, crossing your arms over your chest. “You found me Namjoon,” you replied.

He squared his shoulders and allowed a slightly cocky smile to cross his lips. “Rap Monster. No DJ, just Rap Monster around here.”

You contemplated his moniker and nodded in approval.

“It suits you,” you said. “Well you’ll go live for your first show in 10 minutes – think you’re ready?”

He removed his glasses from his nose and swapped them for a pair of dark wayfarers, pushing them up on his nose.

“Bring it on Y/DJ/N.”

[avengerdragoness]

Sentence Starter Masterlist

Batfamily:

Jason Todd:

“You deserve a world without this”

"Guns? Ha! Last I remember, you had string bean arms!"

“It’s not that funny.”

“I know you liked it when they were hitting on you.” "If you would do it I would like it better" "Wait, what" "What"

"If you're not there when this baby comes, I'm going to take that gun, and shove it so far up your--"

"open it" "can you say please?"

"real smooth, tripping over air"

"Alright guys time to play truth or dare"

"well, that was... interesting"

"where have you been"

“You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this…”

“If you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life.”

“After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?”

"I know I said I’d get up with the kid in the morning but I’m hoping you can’t tell I’m fake sleeping and hoping you will do it instead"

"It helps that my competition is attractive."

“I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts.”

"I bet I could beat you in wrestling match"

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

"Yeah, because fighting crime wearing the colors of a traffic light is soooooo stealthy."

“I met your parents and your mom was flirting with me. "

"I am not jealous, I'm territorial. Jealous is when you what something you can't have, territorial is protecting what is yours."

"Get over here, Jason 'Crush Me With Your Thighs' Todd!"

"ITS PLATINUM!!!"

"Wait, you're not a virgin? do you even stay awake long enough for sex?"

"you can't just go around killing people"

"So tell me: do all vigilantes lurk or is this just a part of your unique charm?"

"Am I really gonna be a father to an actual human being?"

"Put the water balloon down."

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

Dick Grayson:

“I did a pregnancy test.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

"What do you mean I can't stay up until 4 am reading? You've stayed up later risking your life in a ridiculous costume!"

"If you sing that song one more time I will fight you"

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

"I swear to god if you don't get off the chandelier right now"

"love first of all  if you're wearing that kilt to slag me off for me Irish heritage I'm not one fucking bit impressed and second KILTS ARE FUCKING SCOTTISH ugh but you do look the ride in it , i have to say wait there I'm posting a pic of it this gonna be great craic"

"IVE BEEN STANDING IN THIS SHOP FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS TRYING TO DECIDE BETWEEN SMARTIES OR SKITTLES DONT RUSH ME !"

“What do you want me to do with this?”

"You know you have to worst name ever"

"Where do you run off to every day?" 

Tim Drake:

“Is there a problem?” “Is there a special reason, as to why you’re wearing my shirt?”

"No, nothing's wrong, I was just fangirling, carry on."

"You should know by know that if you leave your cape laying around, I don't care if it's for 'superhero business', I'm going to wrap it around myself like a blanket."

“You drowned my makeup in water so I used my key to scratch all of your video game discs.”

"stop it, stop whatever the hell your doing"

'please stop staring at that stupid computer and talk to me'

"You're not meeting my boyfriend, Tim, because I'd like to date him a while before my brother kills him."

“This is your twentieth cup of coffee are you trying to break a world record or something?“

"I found you passed out, face down in a pile of coffee cups, are you ok?"

"You have to be cheating! No one is that good poker!"

"There's nothing wrong with taking a break"

"You should really get out of the house more, I almost attacked you thinking you were a vampire. And no patrol doesn't count, get some sunlight."

Damian Wayne:

“Damn, when did y/n get hot?”

"We’re camping and you think you lost the kid but they’re napping in the tent and I’m not telling you yet so you watch them better next time" 

"Damian, are you sure your dad is going to be ok with us sneaking a monkey into the Manor?"

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

“His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow.”

“When you love someone, you don’t just stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Especially then!”

“Do you ever follow directions?”

"dami ..I can't find my reading glasses have you seen them ?"

"I was trained by the masters of the League of Assassins and Ra's Al Ghul himself I DO NOT SING"

"we are not going to steal someone's dog"

"i'm allowed to be obssesed with you, im your husband"

"Why is there a deer in the mansion."

"I'm better at handling swords than you"

“So that’s why you’re always gone... you’re fighting crime in tights...”

"Wait... are you actually trying to stab me with a spoon?"

"Do I have to?"

"Don't worry beloved my family will love you, if anything I'm worried about them scaring you off"

Batfam:

"Not to point out the elephant in the room, but is that a literal elephant in the room?"

                   <-------------------------------------------->

CW DC:

Barry Allen:

"Cisco I don't need you to hit on them for me."

"I don't care how much a speedster needs to eat, you touch my food, and we're going to have a problem."

"everyone can tell you lover her, it's obvious"

“im NOT jealous, but he was flirting with you"

"I'm so sorry to disturb you but....I ran out of toilet paper"

Wally West:

"you like her, don't you!" 

"I recognize that you have reached a decision, but given that it is a stupid ass decision I have elected to ignore it"

Oliver Queen:

"are you jerking off or did you just find another book?"

Mon-El:

"Are you really jealous of a dog?"

"Mon-El, stop trying to make me blush, you jerk!"

Winn Schott:

"Winslow Schott, you do *not* get to saw I'm 'crabby' right now. If I seem to be in a bad mood, it's because *someone* decided to drag all the way to the DEO, first thing in the morning before I had a chance to have breakfast, without actually giving me a reason!"

                   <-------------------------------------------->

DC (Other):

Billy Batson:

"I'll give you your precious hoodie back, if you say the magic word!"

"How hasn't Bruce Wayne adopted you yet?"

"So...what happened EXACTLY?"

"y'know when you sneak around like that to transform you look super shady right?"

"You snuck into my room in the middle of the night to tell me something that could've waited till morning, woke me up by tripping over a small pile of books, and almost broke the most expensive thing I own. Remind me again why I shouldn't immediately call the cops on my best friend?" 

                   <-------------------------------------------->

Young Justice:

Wally West:

"I'd like to remind everyone to refrain from eating my food"

"I think you're just jealous cause you don't have magic powers! Or maybe you don't believe cause your so dependent on your precious science to explain everything!"

"I don't speak science, think you can translate for us non-nerds?"

Bart Allen:

"You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened to him"

"I'm from the past...I knew your cousin"

"We're about to die!"/"Comes with the job!"/”You're not helping!"

"You can't be serious"

"Hey, could you help me go over these case files-...you do not have a shirt on..."

"Who do i look like, Batman?"

"How are you always late?"

"Give me back my book!! You better not spoil it!!!"

"YOU CAN SING?!?!?!?!"

"You look good in yellow"

"I promise to tell you where your snacks went, if you promise not to get mad."

“are you sure about this”

"please don’t make me say it" 

                   <-------------------------------------------->

Marvel:

The Avengers:

"oops they saw it, well surprise I guess!"

Peter Parker:

"Don't be such a nerd Parker, we need to keep this professional and intimidating."

"You're that Bug Boy Jamison keeps talking about"

"You're an arachnophobe?"

“You're gonna get me killed!"

"I dare you to kiss him."

"Explain your powers to me again"

"Could you just get me down from here?!"

"These aren't even quips! They're just bad puns!"

"I cannot believe you of all people got us detention! I always thought it would be me."

"There's no such thing as bad publicity!"

"So, what's up with BugBoy over there?"

Steve Rogers:

"When were you planning to let me know what happened?!"

                   <-------------------------------------------->

Voltron:

Shiro:

“I’m like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horribly and violently, but honestly it’s a really solid plan.”

“You’re so determined to protect yourself and your feelings, but what about me?”

“How is my wife more badass than me?”

"i lost our baby"

“Are you hitting on me?”

"...Why did you throw confetti in my face?"

Lance:

“I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

"Please tell me you aren't washing a metal, mechanical, slightly magical lion with soap and water?"

“How did you even get that there?“

Keith:

"How in the world did I get you to like me back?"

“I thought it was a good idea at the time, but it now occurs to me that I was horribly wrong.”

“Oh my god! You’re in love with them!” "No, Dumb-ass I'm in love with you"

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

"Keith, I love you, you know I do, but *please* tell me you didn't actually jump out of an airlock to get your lion."

“Why are you staring at me like that?” 

                   <-------------------------------------------->

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid:

"i need you to breath in and out with me, this anxiety attack will pass, i......"

"I don't care what you think you know, Spence, I'm *not* ticklish!"

"God, I hate profilers! You can never keep a secret from one."

[ythmir-writes]

the lake (working title)

Giles x MC

Author’s Notes: A very very very late Secret Santa gift for the astoundingly talented @agrossivepatato (Hi it's me theempresskaizer) I debated whether I should draw something for you or make something artsy but since my strength lies in writing, I decided I should stick with that and simply give you something I made up. Because Im good at making things up and writing them down. At least I think I am. It took so long but I hope you enjoy this! Please look forward to the second chapter! (Yes I'm sorry there's a second chapter but I want to post this before the 6th of January and then I saw your post amd felt incredibly embarrassed and guilty so I'm posting this now :D)

Notes: lots of liberality was taken. Characters belong to cybird except for the Princess whom I fashioned after a dear friend. I like to mention and thank @emigotchi for putting up with my insane questions about winter :) also I'm on mobile so all editing with the format will be done once I get a laptop again I'm sorry

Summary: It's winter again in Wysteria and the Winter Ball is about to take place. Everything has been prepared by Giles and the Princess Elect. They've done this before. This is is the third Winter Ball after all since the princess was selected. So why is he anxious? 

Chap 01/02

Giles Christophe woke up with a start, his leg jerking against empty air as he gasped. His whole body felt as if it had dropped from a height and yet he lay perfectly still. It took a few moments for him to realize that he was lying on his side and that the the prickling sensation in his arm was because he had his hand in-between his head and pillow. It was just a dream, a faraway memory that has not crossed his mind in years.

And that in itself, felt strange.

Most nights, Giles did not dream. It was as if all that he needed to do was to lay on his bed and pull up the covers; with just a few winks, he would have already dozed off. Few men of similar political positions could be lulled into a peaceful slumber so quickly. Some were haunted by memories, others by sin, and most found it as a kind of just chastisement that they were deprived of that one natural human act that could make them forget the things they had done or had failed to do, even if temporarily.

It was not that his life was uneventful or unmemorable. Hardly. The duties that came with being the Wysterian Royal Adviser were more than enough to keep him constantly moving from one side of the palace to the other. Besides, it would be naive to think that any person who was the right hand man of any monarch would not have skeletons in their closet. Giles would never admit it just to anyone but he had his own. And then some.

Only, Giles found it impractical to lose what precious sleep he could have over a few secrets. He always made it a point that he should sleep whenever he could because sleep meant he was rested and being rested meant more work could be done. The moment one task was finished, two more sprang in its place. Any sort of delay would only end with him spending more time than necessary on a certain project and that meant time lost. Time lost in turn meant more time would be wasted on paperwork. And more time wasted on paperwork meant less time with his beloved. And he simply will not have that.

So sleep was never an issue nor was it ever restless for Giles.

It should not be.

Especially not tonight.

Ardiana was snuggled behind him, her face pressed against his back, arm comfortably wrapped around him. It was one of those rare nights when they could meet, and both of them had made the most out such a golden opportunity; a precious night when neither of their duties interfered with their romance. Pleasantly exhausted, they had spent the last few conscious moments snuggling and Giles vaguely remembered whispering into Adriana’s ear before closing his eyes.

So why did he dream that dream?

He took two deep breaths, three, trying his best to calm down his pounding heart. It was slamming against his ribs and he worried that its tremors would wake Ardiana up. He closed his eyes, concentrated on his breathing, but the moment his vision was shrouded by darkness, the memories returned to him.

Coldness.

Sinking.

Giles forced his eyes open and frowned.

Sleep, it looked like it, would not return to him tonight.

Slowly, he extracted himself from the bed, careful not to wake Ardiana. She had had a long day of doing nothing but help him in the preparations for the year’s Winter Ball. She deserved the deep slumber. He watched as her chest rose and fell in a steady and even rhythm. Then he realized that he had been staring, and he smiled, and he felt himself grow warmer at the thought of being captivated by her even at her most vulnerable. Giles reached out towards her, lightly caressing her cheek, tucking stray hairs behind her ear. She looked exquisite.

He pulled up the covers over her before he made his way to the table near his window where he usually kept the stronger liquor.

It had been a while since had dreamed that dream.

He was seven when it had happened.

The Crawfords were hosting a week-long party in their lakeside villa to celebrate their twins’ seventh name-day. It had been the talk of the entire Court months before it had even happened, and when the invitations were finally distributed and one found its way into Lord Christophe’s hands, Giles had been more than ecstatic. He and the twins, Leo and Alyn, were as close as brothers and the idea of spending a week with no tutors or training had excited him. He had been unable to talk of anything else and had been beside himself with joy until finally he had burst through the Crawford’s large oak doors to be greeted by none other than the twins themselves. Louis and Sid, then called Lloyd, had followed after the twins and after much excited talking and abrupt planning, they did what seven year olds did best during a sunny winter day.

They had played in snow.

It had started with running. A lot of running. As far away from the villa as was possible. And all it took was an offhanded remark and the races had become snowball fights and from there they began making forts. It had snowed overnight according to the twins and there was much material even for a bigger than life snowman, or three. When they were too tired to do anything else, they panted and they teased and they laughed, oblivious to any sort of obligation except those that needed immediate attention. Like hunger. Only when Alyn had declared he was ravenous (and they teased him for using such a word) did they began their march back to the villa.

What made the Crawfords’ lakeside villa  the ideal place to host winter parties, and the envy of the entire court, was because it stood at the perfect distance to the edge of a huge lake. Short enough to walk but far away enough for anyone who desired to be painted with a picturesque view. At the other side of the lake was a forest, where game was plenty, and the eastern end of the Sierra Madre, which perpetually covered in snow and acted both as a scenic display during sunrise and a breaker against harsh weather.

Not that any of this mattered to children then. But as they thought of fireplaces and warm cocoa, and how they could sneak an extra cookie or two before dinner, they had to pass by the lake. And Giles Christophe, seven years old then, with his head full of dreams and his soul untouched by heartache, had paused to take a good look.

He had been to the villa numerous times before but never during winter. He had stared at the vast frigid expanse, captivated by the stillness that had now replaced the boats and the people and the birds. He could still remember watching a hawk dive in at incredible speeds before soaring back to the sky with game in its claws. But this memory of the hawk did not belong in the winter and at that specific moment, with their coats and their boots and their gloves and scarves, there had been no signs of life. Only quiet. Only tranquility. As if someone had placed a blanket of white to mourn the death of a landscape.

The change had looked eerie to him.

Part of his brain had told him that there was still water underneath but when all he could see was endless unmoving blue and black lined by white streaks, it had seemed impossible. He had wondered if any animals were even able to break through the ice to fish or if the fish underneath were still alive for that matter or if they were as frozen as the surface.

If there was moving water at all, only nature and common sense verified this -a tiny voice in his head - because to the young Giles, the frozen lake was not just a lake.

It was a yawning void. It was an empty night sky. And he had stood on the edge and imagined himself dancing over the horizon.

How much insight or precaution could a seven year old child be expected to carry? Enough to know the difference between a wasp and a bee, of course. Enough to know which stone would fit well into a slingshot. Enough to know the perfect weight of a perfect snowball for a perfect shot. Enough to know about the myths and the gods and their funny and complicated relationships with mortals. Enough to know that one shouldn’t fly too close to sun.

Or skim above the surface of a void for that matter.

And he was Giles Christophe. He knew all this and more. He wielded a sword when his peers could only jokingly poke with sticks.  He was the eldest child of their family; heir to the Christophe name; favored student and talented protege. And though he was just seven, he was told that he would become a knight one day and serve the crown valiantly like his father, and his father’s father before him, just as all Christophe sons had done as far back when the First Kings had no names and the old gods whispered to men in the trees.

Much was expected from him.

But he was young. Far too young. Tales of his future valiant deeds were nothing more than stories told to him before he went to sleep; promises of glory and duty and service the crown could hold his attention for only as long his tutors spoke of them, forgotten instantly the moment another topic was brought up. And though he might be a Christophe, and he was being shaped rigorously to fit into the future envisioned for him, Giles was still like all children his age.

For one, he had never been shy about exploring the world around him.

“Don’t.” Louis had said even before Giles could voice the idea that had formed inside his mind.

“Don’t what?” Giles had asked, changing course and heading towards the edge of the lake. He had then squatted down and brushed his hand over the ice. Nothing had changed. Only the depth of the lake stared back at him. He then pressed both hands down, and for a brief moment, he had thought he could feel the water moving, a slow rhythmic pulse underneath his palm.

“I’ve never walked on this much ice before.” Sid had confessed, crouching beside Giles.

“It’s not easy.” Louis had added with a solemnity that only a seven-year-old could do. “You could slip anytime.”

“I don’t slip.” Sid had scowled.

“Father says the ice is frozen enough to walk on last night.” Leo had taken a confident leap towards the lake. He wobbled for a second but then stood proudly with his hands on his waist.

“How did he know?” Louis had asked, dubious still.

“You measure it by sticking in long sticks.”Giles had replied, remembering how he had watched the servants in his home pierce the frozen rivers with metal poles.

“Eight inches is perfectly good for standing on.” Alyn sat down with a loud plomp at the edge.

“That’s almost a foot of ice!”

“Yeah.” Leo had said. “Which makes it safe.”

“Ice is never completely safe.” Louis had cautioned.

“Let’s go back already.” Alyn had whined. “We can explore more after we’ve eaten.”

But Alyn’s pleas had not reached his friends, at least not Giles in particular. Giles had already made up his mind. He took a step. And then another. Half of him expected it to be slippery or that he would lose his balance at first like Leo had. Thankfully, his feet had stayed where he placed them. Sid had followed suit, and Louis could only sigh before resigning himself and joining Alyn on the snow.

“I call a dare!” Sid had suggested. “The person who gets further away from this point gets all the dessert!”

“What’s tonight’s dessert?” Giles had asked.

Chocolate cake.”

“I’m in.” Leo was already walking away with determined steps.

“Idiots.” Louis had tried to reason but then what was caution really to a band of brave seven year olds?

Leo, Sid, and Giles  began moving away from land, inching their way cautiously on the ice. Sometimes they slipped and sometimes someone was shoved and they would laugh at their own frightened yelps before moving on.

Thoughts of prudence were only at the very edges of Giles mind. He kept his eyes on the ice most of the time, reminding himself of what his father taught him, but the entire dare had been a thrilling and different experience. He had begun imagining himself as having conquered the endless black void. The thought had made him giddy; it was as if he was ready to glide on a pitch black night sky.

It had felt surreal.

Thus with each foot further away from where they started, the frozen lake looked more and more inviting, and less and less a perilous black arena.

It had seemed almost like a fairy tale.

Almost.

Leo had been the first to back out. “Actually,” He had said, stopping in his tracks. “We should all go back. The ice doesn't look as thick here.”

“Coward!” Alyn had taunted from the back. Leo had smoldered from where he stood but did not move.

“Yeah, I don’t like this either.” Sid had said, much to the rest of the group’s surprise. “Giles, don’t take another step.”

“Not gonna fall for it.” Giles had shot back, stepping forward with purpose.

“Don’t be daft!” Louis had shouted from the edge, standing up.

“Not even Father went this far.” Leo had explained, turning to Giles. “Let’s go back.”

But Giles was never one for turning back. And even as a kid, he would not voluntarily give up his dessert. He had looked from Leo to Sid, motioned towards Alyn and Louis,then said, “We haven’t even walked more than a few feet!”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Well this better not be some sort of trick.”

“Let’s just go!” Leo had insisted.

“Not until you forfeit!”

"You stubborn ass.” Sid had said.

“I’m being practical.”

“And an idiot for chocolate!” Sid had pressed, turning back and heading for the edge.

There had been a moment of indecision. Giles had watched as Leo and Sid started to inch their way back towards safety. Then he had glanced back at the white expanse behind them - at the trees and the shadows and the mountain. He looked down at his feet, at the ice, at the darkness below, and then he took a step.

“Giles, what are you doing?” Alyn’s anxious voice had cut through the chatter and the others turned to look at him.

“Giles, you moron!”

“That’s far enough!” Leo had warned him. “Come back!”

But Giles had not listened. Instead, he had continued walking on the frozen lake just as he had been taught; cautiously and unhurriedly, checking the ice before putting in his full weight. He continued until he could no longer hear Sid’s or Leo’s warnings, or Alyn promising him two slices of cake. Twice he had thought of stopping and turning back but the memory of his father’s expectations made him remember the myths that he had been taught; he remembered what he knew and who he was, and how he was bound for great things, and this prevented him from listening even to his own inner reason. So he had continued until there was only whiteness in his vision and stopped only when he was certain that he had walked farther into the lake than any other of his friends could ever dare.

He turned back to them and waved.

A hushed silence first greeted his success. And then Alyn had whooped, with Louis and Leo clapping for him. Sid had shook his head and raised his hands in defeat but he had been smiling.

Giles had grinned back. And he had felt a surge of emotion in his chest, a warmth that started from his heart and spread throughout his body. It felt good. It felt delightful. It could have been the best memory that Giles could ever have of what little good memories there were left.

But then it felt cold.