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sorryjustafangirl · 3 years ago

Text

pretty damn obvious

a/n: i had the pleasure of writing for @antoineroussel in her own fic exchange! i really liked this idea and i loved playing around with different ways to incorporate some of her favourite things into a fic! so to Demi, i really hope you enjoy this! there’s also an easter egg hidden in here for you :)

title: pretty damn obvious (aka Mat’s different love languages)

pairing: mat barzal x gn!reader

word count: 4.5k+

warnings: one creep/asshole in section two, mentions of alcohol, and like one swear

disclaimer: this is a piece of fiction and includes a real person so if you don't vibe with that, please don't read. also this gif is not mine, all credit to the amazing creator

one - quality time

There was a lot you loved about your hometown. The ocean was so close, the climate was warm enough for cute outfits in all seasons (but cool enough you could be graced with snow some winters), and even though it was a big city, it felt like a small town some days. But your favourite part about Vancouver? Mat Barzal was there with you.

Your families were close so it was a no brainer that the two of you became close as you both grew up. From weekly movie nights to helping him with his History homework to spending the summers with each other’s family, the two of you were thick as thieves. When Mat got drafted to the Islanders, things changed, but not as drastically as you thought. You still kept in touch through text and Snapchat but obviously weren’t as involved as close as when you were kids in the same city.

When you sold your first book series, Mat was the first one to promote it on his social media and even sent you a bottle of champagne all the way from Long Island. He told you all his favourite parts and even passed along some of the staff's thoughts on it.

And when you told him you would be moving to New York to be closer to your agent and publishing house, he was so quick to reinsert himself into your daily life. He picked you up from the airport, using Marty’s van to help move all your baggage, and showed you the place to get the best Chinese hot buns. Since you moved in before the season started, the two of you did some of the tourist-y stuff, like the Empire State building and Central Park, catching up on all the little details you’d missed in the thousand miles that had been between you. Weekly movie nights were reinstated and he left tickets for you to come to every home game.

“I’m here!” He called as he entered your apartment one week. He always insisted that movie nights should be at your place, even though your living room was significantly smaller than his and your apartment was out of the way for him.

From the couch, you waved to him. “Romantic comedy or romantic drama?”

He shrugged, and told you to choose whatever you wanted (like he did every week) but when you whined his name playfully, he picked romantic drama. Going with a classic, and one of your favourites, you selected Love Actually on Netflix. Mat brought you the bowl of popcorn you left on the kitchen island, before sitting beside you on the couch. He placed his phone face-down on the coffee table and moved closer to your side. You pressed play and your head drifted to his shoulder.

It was roughly halfway through the movie when Mat’s phone buzzed the first time. Your attention was drawn to the sound, but he didn’t seem to notice, even when it buzzed again after two minutes. You turned your attention back to the movie, his phone forgotten.

It got to the scene when Natalie and David are in the limousine when his phone buzzed again. And again. And again. It was almost constant buzzing and you caught Mat off guard when you paused the movie. You sat up, moving away from him a little, and waited patiently for him to check his notifications.

“What?” He asked.

“Oh my god, answer your phone!” He recoiled a little at the volume of your voice. “I’m sorry, but it’s buzzed like fifteen times, obviously it’s important."

He just shrugged. “Whatever it is, it can wait. I’m spending time with you."

“What if it’s your mom with some terrible news or something?” He stared at you for a moment before reaching for his device.

“Well, now you’ve made me paranoid,” He huffed, flipping his phone over to check the messages. Scrolling through them, he rolled his eyes. “It’s just Beau, he’s drunk.” He put his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and placed it face-down again. Turning back to you, he asked. “Can we play it now? I want to know what happens to Hugh Grant."

A smile graced your face and you nodded, snuggling closer to him as you pressed play again. Mat’s hand delicately traced over your shoulder and his attention was solely on this time he got to spend with you.

two - physical touch

Since Mat had insisted you come to his home games, you’d come to know the team. Not very well, but you knew their faces and names and they knew yours. So it wasn’t all that much of a surprise to them when the two of you walked into the bar together after an Isles win.

You went to join the group while Mat ordered your first round of drinks. You slid into the booth with some of the better halves, while their boyfriends and husbands played a game of pool. They all greeted you, talked about how work is going, but Grace is the first to bring up your relationship with Mat.

“So you two are getting closer these days,” She teased, taking a sip of her drink.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s always touching you?” You looked down at your hands and shook your head, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh, that’s -that’s nothing. He’s been like that since we were kids, it doesn’t mean anything."

“Right now’s the first time since the game ended when your hand isn't in his,” Maggie, Tito’s girlfriend, commented.

“He was making sure I didn’t get lost in the crowd. It’s nothing.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Grace hummed in agreement and took another sip of her drink. Their comments got the gears in your head spinning, your fingers involuntarily starting to twist together. When Mat came back, he slid your favourite drink in front of you. You gave him a smile, considering you didn’t tell him what you wanted and leaned into his touch.

He settled in beside you, letting his arm drape over your shoulder. When you continued to look at him, he placed his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze. Your eyes softened and before you know it, the boys return to the table and various conversations spur. Mat is talking to Beau over Wally’s head and Sydney is showing you new pictures of Winnie from across the table but no matter how the two of you stretch, Mat’s touch lingered on your body.

You started to leave to get another round, but Mat gripped your hand forcing you to turn back to look at him. His eyebrow quirked up, not in a judgmental way but in a way that left you giddy he was concerned why you were leaving. You gave him a smile, motioning to the bar and he nodded, letting your hand drop. You headed over to the bar and ordered your drink as well as another one of Mat’s.

An arm slung over your shoulders and for a moment you lean into it, thinking it was Mat. But then you felt the roughness of the skin and realized this person’s touch was nothing like Mat’s.

“Hey sweetheart, so nice of you to order my favourite drink.” You looked up to see someone much taller than you standing close enough you could smell the cheap cologne and cigarette smoke in his breath. You moved his hand off your shoulder and moved away from him, but like a moth to a flame he followed you.

“Don’t be like that, there’s no way you got both of those drinks for yourself.”

“It’s for my boyfriend.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetie.” The stranger moved closer to you again. “He doesn’t have to know.”

An arm fell over your shoulders again, and you stiffened but quickly relaxed as you felt his familiar - safe - warmth come over you. Your hand quickly came up to grasp his and he gave it another squeeze.

“Is there a problem here, babe?” Mat gave you one of his soft smiles, before glancing to the man, his eyes hardening. You turned to the stranger as well, making eye contact with him.

“No, he was just leaving.” The man clenched his jaw and left in a huff. When he was out of your sight, you quickly turned to him.

“Oh my god, thank you, I..I don’t know what I would’ve done,” You rushed out and you felt Mat’s thumb caress your hand in a soothing pattern.

“Don’t worry about it.” His voice was a little strained.

“No, I-I don’t know what I would’ve done, he was so much bigger than me and I tried to tell him no but he wouldn’t- he just kept bothering me-'' Your lungs started to strain as you hyperventilated, tears beginning to well in your eyes. He pulled both of your hands into his own, grounding you as you tried to calm down.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you know that." Your lungs stopped working momentarily at his comment but slowly nodded and he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Besides, did you see his face when you told him to leave? You rocked it.” A small chuckle escaped you at his comment and he pressed another kiss to the top of your head. He ducked down a little to meet your mostly dry eyes.

“How does an Office marathon and some cuddles sound right now?”

“That sounds like the best thing.” He cracked a smile and pulled your hand through the crowd to get a cab. You ignored the sparks that were travelling up your arm, only focusing on his hand in yours and the comfort his touch brought you.

three - gift giving

When you were younger, you wanted to become a baker. Open up your own cozy bakery in Vancouver and spend your days in the kitchen crafting delicious desserts, just like your grandmother did at home. You and Mat would spend hours talking about your dreams under the safety of blanket forts in the winter. He’d talk about his NHL superstar future, playing for his favourite team, even playing for Team Canada one day. You’d talk about the open concept kitchen and the stainless steel professional islands and the baby pink mixers you’d get. As you grew up, it became more of a fantasy than a dream, but you still had the skills from those days spending time in the kitchen.

Those skills came in especially handy for times when your writer’s block was at an all time high. If no words were flowing from your fingers, you’d put them to good use with stirring, kneading, or rolling. It wasn’t something you often shared with people, and obviously you’d forgotten to tell your best friend because when you’d brought over the containers of brownies and muffins to give to Mat to share with the team, his eyes widened like saucers. When he got past his shock (and excitement to have goodies in his apartment), he’d noticed the blisters forming on your fingers from overworking them. You’d brushed him off, saying they’d heal in a jiffy. He frowned, but seemed to buy your answer and thanked you for the baked goods.

When your birthday started to approach, you made it clear to Mat that you wanted nothing extravagant. He’d always had a tendency to overdo it and with this being your first birthday in the Big Apple, you were worried he’d really overdo it. You could still feel the effects from your 19th birthday party Mat threw for you. He’d flown up from Seattle for the weekend and made sure you had a great time. It would’ve been really sweet if you could remember half of it. You do remember the morning after though. He relentlessly teased you for how you handled your alcohol but spent the rest of the day hanging out with you, giving you ibuprofen every 4 hours until your hangover went away.

But now that you were older, you couldn’t handle anything that crazy again. Your girlfriends had planned something separate but it conflicted with Mat’s schedule so you insisted on a relaxing night in, maybe some face masks and mimosas.

“What is that?” You asked, choking a little on your drink as he walked in with a box half of his size.

“Happy birthday!” He placed the messily wrapped box on your coffee table, making a loud thud sound. You continued to stare at the size of the box until he encouraged you to open it. You took your time, meticulously tearing the paper as if not to wreck whatever this extravagant gift was.

When all of the wrapping was off, your breath hitched in your throat. It was a state-of-the-art stand mixer, just one you saw in every show home, every cooking show, the exact same one you dreamed about when you were little. It was even the same shade of baby pink you’d envisioned.

“This way you won’t have to get blisters every time you need to stress bake. And it’s like the one you dreamed about when we were kids, remember? You and your bakery and me and the Flames?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of it. You’d dreamed about a machine like this since you were old enough to believe in Santa Claus.

“You remember that?” The side smile he gave you sent butterflies to your stomach. It must’ve been over ten years since you’d talked about that dream. But you came back to reality and quickly shook your head, dispelling those giddy feelings. “I can’t accept this, it’s too much.”

“It’s not though.”

“Yes! It is. I know how much one of these costs.”

He simply stared back at you. “So?”

“Mathew…”

“Don’t say my name like that,” He whined, coming over to you. “What good is an NHL salary if I can’t use it on the people.. on the people I love?” Your heart started beating faster when he said that word but you had to remind yourself that this was your best friend, the person you’d grown up with. Of course he loved you. But he only meant it the way he’d always meant it - platonically.

“Thank you.” The corners of his eyes crinkled from his smile and you gave him a long hug, his hands pressing you close to his chest. You thought you heard his heart beating faster than usual, but waved it off as your own nerves acting up.

four - acts of service

The Islanders’ two week West Coast roadie finally came and even though you’d miss him like always, you didn’t mind the physical distance between you and your best friend.

Maybe best friend wasn’t the correct word considering the more-than-friend feelings you were developing for him.

A ringing coming from your phone interrupted your thoughts and upon seeing Mat’s contact photo pop up, you immediately answered it. You kept the phone balanced under your ear as you continued to answer some emails.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” His voice is breathy. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” You said hesitantly, hearing his tone. Glancing at the clock, you realize that this isn’t when Mat usually phones, even with the time difference. “Rant or distraction?”

You heard him sigh before letting out a small chuckle. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know you, Maty. Now, do you want to rant or do you need to be distracted?”

“Do you have the time for that?”

“I always have time for you.” He paused at your words, and even though you couldn’t see it, he shook his head a little trying to suppress the smile you put on his face.

“Well, then distracted please.”

“Uh, okay, let’s see. Maggie invited me to lunch tomorrow so that’ll be fun. We’re going to that coffee shop, the one you brought me breakfast from last week when I overslept? She hasn’t been yet, so I suggested it and I hope she likes it. Oh! Last night I finished my outline for chapter 23 of my new book, which I really have to get started on because according to my schedule I’m already a chapter behind since my writer’s block was an ass last week. And my agent wants to talk about the next book on Thursday but since I haven’t finished this one, I don’t know what to say because you know that sometimes I get new ideas while writing, so it might be a mess. I’ll live, I get to paid to write, so I’ll just spend the next couple days writing until I pass out.”

“Don’t do that,” He chided. You could practically see the eye roll through the phone. “Make sure you eat between now and Thursday-”

“Yes, Mom,” You joked, but when you heard him sigh on the other end, you added that you would. The two of you talked for a few more minutes before he hung up to go to the arena.

A few days later, your conversation with Mat was long forgotten. Inspiration for your newest chapter struck in the middle of the night and the words had been flowing from your fingers ever since. There were half-empty mugs of cold coffee scattered and pages with snippets of paragraphs spewed all over the place.

A sharp knock at your door broke your trance and when you stood up, your joints hurt after being in the same position for so long. Using your peephole, you realized that no one was waiting at your door, only a small paper brown bag with a white piece of that looked like a receipt attached. You opened your door narrowly, so your neighbor didn’t have to see your ancient sweatpants and the too large shirt that said Barzal on the back. The name on the bag was your full name, and there was even a note that it was paid for. In the comments section of the receipt, you noticed only a simple note: From Mat <3

You immediately rushed to find your phone, only then realizing that you’d missed his afternoon game because you were so wrapped up in your writing. His number was favourited on FaceTime and he picked up after only one ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey? What is this?” You held up the bag to be in the frame. His eyes lit up.

“Oh, sweet, you got it!”

“It? What even is this?” You started to take the contents of the bag and a warm aroma of comfort food filled your room. “Italian?” Your face must have shifted because you Mat was quick to reassure you what it was.

“Authentic Italian!” He said proudly. “It’s from that restaurant on 178th Street, the one you told me had the only good pasta in the area.” Your eyes softened. That same restaurant didn’t do takeout orders, much less deliveries.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, still. This means a lot Maty.” You took a bite and tried to suppress the moan that you made. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “You stopped answering my texts so I figured you were in your zone, which meant you definitely weren’t making yourself a meal.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his assumption and you changed the subject, talking about his game since you missed it, how the trip has been, if he was tired of sharing a room with Beau yet (which he didn’t answer much to your amusement). He’d asked about how you were coming along with your newest chapter and plans for when he got back.

Eventually, he hung up the phone, letting you get back to work now that he knew you had some food. He looked up from his phone, glancing over at Beau who gave him a knowing look. When Mat’s face scrunched in confusion, his best friend scoffed. “You’re not even dating them yet, tu es désespéré.” to which a pillow was thrown at him.

five - words of affirmation

All it took was one single piece of paper to send you spiraling.

A simple wedding RSVP for Mason and Mac, friends you’d grown up with in Vancouver, which was the funny part. Mason accompanied you to the year six dance and Mac lived down the street from your house growing up. You’d known them individually as people, as wonderful people so deserving of happiness, and you’d seen them find that in each other. They were a perfect couple and had been since high school. Everyone knew they were going to get married; it was just a matter of when.

Guess now was the time. But the more you stared at the ivory invitation, the more it set in that this was how it was going to be. Always a bridesmaid, never the bride; that sort of thing. And this was only the start. After this, you’d have a mailbox full of invitations where you’d have to write ‘party for 1’ over and over again.

You weren’t going to find that person. Society puts so much pressure on finding that one, getting married, having a family. Not to mention the timeline that they press, that by 25 everyone has their life figured out. You weren’t anywhere close to adhering to that nonsense. It might be ridiculous but there was still some part of you that wondered if you were falling behind in life. The last relationship you’d had lasted five months and was over a year ago. You had no problem being single but the invitation had so painfully reminded you that you were alone.

You hadn’t even realized that you’d started to sob until Mat was in front of you, his eyes wide. His lips were moving as if they were saying something but between the sound of your sobs and the various voices screaming in your head, you couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to tell you. He noticed, surrounding you with his arms, holding you tight until your sobs started to subside and your breathing returned to normal.

“What’s going on? Talk to me,” he asked. He was crouched in front of you with his hands resting on your wrists, the light touch comforting you. Instead of answering him, you sniffled and reached for the RSVP, giving it to him. With one hand, he inspected it, his other hand staying on your arm.

“Isn’t this a good thing? They’ve been together since high school,”

“It’s not that,” You said, pointing to the bottom.

Please circle how many seats we should reserve in your place: 1 or 2

“I still don’t get it. Why are you crying?”

“Because! I-” Your voice cracked and you looked away from your best friend. Yow knew he wouldn’t let this go, not after seeing how much it affected you, but this was personal and intimate in a way you hadn’t been with him before. He would never understand; he’s funny and athletic and all the things any person would look for. He wasn’t like you. “I’m just never going to have that. Like, I have to circle 1 because I’m not seeing anyone but then I’m going to show up alone to a wedding where I’m going to be constantly reminded that I’m falling behind in life and I’m never going to have a love like theirs because no one is going to love me like that. My last serious relationship wasn’t even serious and it’s been more than a year since I’ve had anything more than a first date! I just don’t know if someone loving me is in my cards.”

“You don’t seriously believe that, do you?”

“No, I just made it up for a personal breakdown. Of course, I believe it," You snapped.

“You don’t have to get defensive, it’s just…that’s a bunch of bullshit. You’re not falling behind in life because you’re not in a relationship right now. You’re not. And I know there’s lots of people who go to weddings alone and also you’re wrong because you are incredible. Why wouldn't anyone want to love you? You create whole universes from scratch, you always know how to make me laugh, and you're the best person I know, and that says something because I've met Sidney Crosby." His comment forced a small laugh out of you and he lifted your chin up to met his eyes. "So many people love you. I..I love you.”

Your heart clenched at those words and you looked down at your hands. You couldn’t look at him when he didn’t mean it in the way you so longed to hear. He’s said it platonically for years, and you wouldn’t get your hopes up every time he said it.

“Thanks Maty. I love you too,” You sniffled, looking back down at your hands. A moment passed and you heard him take a deep breath.

“No, I love you.”

Oh? Oh.

Your mind was racing a mile a minute at the idea that Mat could see everything in you that you saw in him. Your lips parted and you turned to see him with nerves written all over his face, something that looked out of place on your generally confident best friend. The longer you stared at him, memories and thoughts circling your brain, the more antsy he got in the silence.

“If you don’t feel the same, that’s-that’s fine, I just want you to be happy. It doesn’t have to be with me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re my best friend.”

“Like I said, it’s fine-” You placed your hand on his thigh and he stopped talking long enough for you to speak.

“You’ve been my best friend since we were little, I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

“You mean that..?”

“I love you too.” His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth started to turn up.

“Yeah?” You nodded and he quickly brought you into his arms, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck. A laugh escaped you and you felt him smile. He pulled away, his eyes staring into yours before finally leaning in. Your lips met and you easily melted into him. It was new and exciting, sparks travelling up and down your body but it was also familiar, like being back on the beach or snuggling up in your favourite chair. It was exactly like Mat had always been with you; a sense of comfort that brought new adventures. One of your hands found the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you as he continued to kiss you. When you both pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours and you let out a small laugh.

“What took you so long?”

“What took me so long? I mean, I think it’s been pretty damn obvious,” He chuckled, pulling away from you to admire your skin in the lighting, the way your lips were swollen. “I tried showing you in like every love language because even after all these years, I still don’t know which one is yours but you still didn’t get it so.”

“Thanks for putting up with my obliviousness.” You brushed a stray hair that had fallen into his face and he gently grabbed your wrist, pressing a soft kiss to the inside before leaning into your touch.

“No one else I want to put up with.”

You brought him in for another kiss, and you soon found yourself in his lap, exchanging sweet nothings and deep, long overdue, kisses. Suddenly, he stopped, moving you out of his touch. He reached to his side and grabbed the forgotten invitation before going into the kitchen for something. He came back holding, triumphantly, a blue pen and brought you back into his embrace. He clicked the pen and circled ‘2’ and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, before leaning your head on his shoulder. There was no other person you’d want to attend any event with than the man who’d become your everything.

translation: tu es désespéré = you are hopeless

taglist (join here): @heatherawoowoo @4ambagelbites @tysonjost-taylorsversion @2manytabsopen @stars-canucks @lorrmorr @fallinallincurls @plds2000

#the winter fic exchange 2k21 #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl x reader #new york islanders imagine #new york islanders fic #hockey fic #abby writes #and once again thank you for hosting and organizing the fic exchange i really do love participating

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hermits-hovel · 2 years ago

Note

2, 11

okay quick disclaimer, these numbers were actually given by @azure-dragonsinger but I accidentally. Deleted the ask on my phone while hastily drafting all of my answers and had to make do with a weird self-anon lmaO;;; I'M VERY SORRY <:'[ (I HOPE THE SOFT ANCELS MAKE UP FOR IT <'3)

2. Does your muse like hugs?

And I’m sad the ask is gone because this is a RIPE one 🙏

Ancel’s relationship with physical contact is REALLY strange, because while he’s generally okay with initiating some (minor) contact of his own volition (hands on shoulders, carrying people, etc.), he often seizes up and withdraws when someone touches him in return.

And this isn’t out of hate or fear of contact (except maybe in select cases)—it’s quite the opposite. He sincerely loves it, and he especially loves hugs. He WANTS to be hugged. The thought of being hugged and just, held by someone crosses his mind more than he’d like to admit.

But being so starved for affection, he doesn’t exactly handle being hugged like the average person might. If someone were to give him one, he’d probably look fearful; in reality, he’s actually ecstatic and has no clue how to process that, or let himself reciprocate and enjoy the moment without like, crying or feeling ashamed lmao. It damn near renders him speechless for a few minutes.

That sudden surge of emotions really overwhelms him, so it typically forces him out of any prospective embraces and back into that comfortable realm of contactless familiarity. Since he grew up deprived of and resistant to most forms of physicality, he tries to tell himself that resistance and deprivation has served him well—that his deep craving for intimacy is a weakness and a flaw that cannot be indulged, and obviously having such a strong reaction to being hugged is telling of that.

He intends to take that ideal to the grave, but I’ll be damned if I let That happen >:’)

(And oh, dear god, side note; when it comes to giving hugs? He’s unfortunately the worst. Doles out the most awkward, featherlight, Christian side-hugs you ever did see. Don’t ask him for one. Enjoy his modest shoulder touches instead.)

11. What pet names would your muse give to others?

HMM…… Beyond common formalities such as ‘my friend’, I never thought Ancel would be one to designate pet names, or come up with any personal ones of his own. He doesn’t think too hard about this, but he tends to be very stringent about referring to people with their preferred titles, and would feel real awkward trying to deviate from that unless the person in question explicitly asked him to. Call him old-fashioned I suppose hgjJFJD

… Yet if he were to settle with someone, like really deeply and truly settle with them, to a point where he is so soul-baringly comfortable with them that typical habits are thrown to the four winds… I can picture him tenderly referring to them as ‘love’ or ‘my love’ on occasion <3

GOD… he’ll get there I Swear

soft headcanons!

#ask #answered memes #ancel louvre #this got Long I’m rip #when ur religious guilt and touch starvation feed each other #again i'm so sorry about the ask hKJGHDG IT HAPPENED SO FAST #definitely going to be careful navigating my inbox from here on out lmaO

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

113 notes · View notes

kim-seungmine · 5 years ago

Text

give my heart a chance

title: give my heart a chance

characters: (fem) reader x han jisung of stray kids.

genres: romance, fluffy as hell (i just want them to kiss so bad!), college au, friends to lovers au, composer/music scorer!jisung, assistant director!reader

word count: 6.9k words

warnings: cursing, a little suggestive i guess? there’s a lot of sexual references but nothing too wild, lots of (attempted) flirting, jisung is whipped as hell, it gets very wordy sometimes IM SORRY.

synopsis: you and jisung have these theories about love, and there’s only one way to prove yourselves right: testing them on each other.

a/n: writing this gave me so much joy, and writing from jisung’s perspective is super fun. lastly, sorry for the lame ass title, but i hope you’ll enjoy! please tell me there aren’t many grammatical/spelling errors i’ve read this over and over again.

Verse 1: “Date me, so I can write love songs about you.”

Han Jisung has a lot of ambitions. Being the world's best composer, buying a whole island for himself, and flexing his Rolex watches are on his list, but for now finishing his demo for the upcoming production meeting will be enough.

Maybe he's not so ambitious after all.

The door clicks open and reveals his roommate Lee Minho, his hair disheveled but eyes twinkling. Jisung raises his eyebrow. "Did you pass out on the street or something? What time is it?"

It's now Minho's turn to raise his eyebrow. "I had this amazing date but to put it simply, your man got laid."

Jisung sighs and knocks his head on the desk. "Lucky you."

"Your time will come, my friend," Minho assures him flatly, lying on the couch with a contented sigh. "What time is the meeting?"

"9 A.M." Jisung yawns, lifting his head to glance at his watch. "Fuck, I'm late."

Jisung doesn't know why he struggles to finish this project. His senior Bang Chan asked him to join his graduation project and help with the scoring. Jisung is willing to do anything that boosts his resume, but so far the project is only causing him headache. He's Han Jisung, the best student in his batch who almost always forgets to finish his assignments but always manages to ace them. He also sings and raps—even freestyling. He's the musical genius. Why is this happening to him?

Minho mumbles a sleepy good luck before passing out. Jisung is about pack his laptop when his phone vibrates. Your name appears on his screen, making him groan.

"Han Jisung you're late," you deadpan before he gets to say hello.

"I'm on my way."

“Get your ass here in 10 minutes or..."

"Or what?"

He can hear you tapping your pen on the table. "...I have nothing to threaten you with."

Jisung chuckles. Do you know how cute you are even over the phone? "I'll be there in 10."

Chan and the rest of the crew are already inside the room when Jisung arrives. He slowly pulls up a chair beside you, trying his best to ignore your glare.

"About the wooden table we wanted last week, have we got it?" Chan asks.

Kim Seungmin, the head of production design team, nods his head. "The color is a bit different from your moodboard because the one you wanted was slightly more expensive than expected, is this still okay?" He pauses to show Chan a picture on his phone. The director examines it before passing Seungmin's phone to you. "What do you think, Y/N?"

"It's a bit different but still fits the overall mood in my opinion. A little bit warmer, but I don't think it will disturb the ambience."

Chan smiles. "Hmm, I agree. Good job, Seungmin. And that's it, everyone! Thank you for coming! We only have 3 more scenes to film so hang in there, okay?"

The whole room lets out sighs of relief, leaving the room one by one.

"Jisung, can I talk to you?"

"Just curse at me. You don't have to be so nice."

Chan laughs. "You know why I asked you to help me, right? I know what you're capable of, so tell me, what's bothering you?"

Jisung pulls out the film script from his backpack, showing Chan the parts he's circled with red marker. "I finished the scoring for other scenes, but I can never seem to think of anything that fits this one scene."

He has played the scene in his head over and over. The man confesses his feelings to the woman he loves dearly, but also says goodbye to her. The woman only nods, lips curling into a small smile, and waves him goodbye.

It doesn’t make sense. Why would they do that? People who love each other stay together unless their parents disagree or someone dies. Or at least, they try to be together until the feelings fade. Why would they say goodbye before even starting anything?

Chan stands up, patting Jisung on his back as he’s making his way to the door. “I don’t want to limit your creativity or make you create music only based on my vision, but here’s something to think about: sometimes it’s not about fate or timing. It’s about choice. See you next week, kids!”

Both of you slump into your chairs the moment he’s out of sight. “I hate it when he’s being cryptic like that. Why can’t he just tell you what he wants? He’s the director anyways, everything has to be according to his vision.” You turn to Jisung who’s scratching his head. “Please tell me you understood what he said.”

“I understand,” Jisung answers. “Well, theoretically. Do you?”

“No one will truly understand it the way Chan does, but I understand the message he wants to tell.”

“Will you just help me then?” Jisung begs. “We don’t have much time left and I’m sure you’ll kill me if I submit the demo a minute late so let’s make our lives easier and help each other out, shall we?”

Jisung does need help—especially since you’ll be extremely critical—but he also wants to spend more time with you. He doesn’t know if Minho going on dates motivates him to do the same, and that’s what he wants to figure out.

“Okay,” you say. “But the moment you annoy me too much I’ll leave you to rot alone”

Jisung smiles so brightly his cheeks hurt. “When do you finish class today?”

It wasn’t love at first sight. The first few weeks working with you was hard that he wanted to take a revenge on you by asking Minho to break your heart. His roommate specializes in breaking people’s hearts, but he figured you would break Minho’s heart instead.

After a while, Jisung would rather you break his heart than anybody else’s.

“I hope you like Americano,” Jisung says. You avert your gaze to two cups of Americano on the table, nodding as you sit in front of him. “Thanks. Is the cheesecake mine too?”

He chuckles, sliding the plate to you. “It’s mine, but you can have it. I wanted to buy you one but I don’t know what you like.”

“You dared to assume that I like Americano but couldn’t decide what cake I would like?”

Jisung wonders whether he should be honest with you.

“I almost did,” he confesses. “But buying you cake feels too personal, isn’t it? This will feel like a date.”

You unexpectedly pout, and Jisung almost has a heart attack. “Stop flirting, you’re so bad at it.”

“Once I start flirting for real, you’ll be madly in love with me in 10 minutes.”

You slide the plate back to him. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation,” you sigh. “Let’s start. You’re the one who wants me to help you get your shit done.”

Jisung opens his laptop to show you his drafts. “I honestly don’t know if this scene is supposed to be sad,” he explains, playing one of them. You listen carefully, glancing at him every few seconds. When the music stops, you close his laptop.

“Do you believe in love, Han Jisung?”

Jisung stops slicing his cheesecake, puts his fork down, and looks into your eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer me.”

“Yes? I’ve been in love before, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think the man loves the woman?”

“He does.”

You look satisfied with his answer. For a few minutes, you don’t ask him any other question, just sipping your coffee while examining your surroundings. “That’s it? You asked me all those big questions then just stopped?”

“Your theories are interesting,” you point out. “You believe in love and thinks that the couple needs to be together, but you’re not thinking from their perspective yet.”

“What’s your theory then?” he asks.

“My theories… about love?”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind sharing.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I think it will be fun. Well, this is what I’ve always believed in: boys like you will never be heartbroken.”

“Boys like me?”

“Boys like you, who date just for the sake of dating itself or getting laid.”

Jisung panics, waving his hands in front of your face. “Y/N I’m not some fuckboy I swear to God.”

“I know you’re not,” you clarify. “Boys like you just don’t think too much about anything, don’t really use your feelings. You date you when you want to date, break up when you want to break up, stay single for a while then starting to feel empty and thinking that dating someone is the only solution.”

“Aren’t we all like that?! Tell me you’ve never thought of going on Tinder when you’re lonely!” he protests. “For a film major, you have a lot of time.”

“I have to observe people in order to survive,” you laugh. “Where do you think I get ideas? It’s from other people.”

Jisung is still forming a smart comment in his head when you tilt your head, flashing him a smile so sweet like you didn’t just indirectly diss him. “Your turn. What’s your theory?”

It’s kind of hard to believe, but Jisung has quite a lot of theories about love. He’s not what you’ll call experienced, but he knows enough to come up with his own theories. “Which one hurts more, dumping someone or getting dumped?”

“Getting dumped, of course. That’s not even a theory anymore.”

Jisung wiggles his index finger. “It’s the other way around. Before you break up with someone, you think of hundreds of reasons—whether blaming yourself or the other person. You’ll keep thinking about things you hate about them and shitty experiences with them before coming up with a perfect breakup scenario. And the whole process, Princess, is agonizing.”

“Wow,” you breathe out, amazed. “You’re something else.”

“Jisung-ah!”

Minho jogs to your table, stopping when he realizes that Jisung isn’t alone. “Thank God I found you,” he whispers urgently. “Listen, I know you’re in the middle of a date but this is emergency.”

“What is it?”

“Are you coming home tonight?” Minho asks.

Jisung frowns. “Of course I am. I need to sleep so bad.”

“Are you sure? If so, then…” Minho proceeds to type something on his phone before passing it to Jisung. The latter coughs at the content, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket and handing it to Minho. “If you lose it I’m going to kill you,” he threatens.

“Are you sure you’re coming—”

“Don’t worry, he’s definitely coming home. I’m not sleeping with him if that’s what you’re implying.”

Minho laughs, bowing playfully at you as he backs away. “Good choice!” he yells. “Have fun, you two!”

You giggle while Jisung curses under his breath. “He asked you for a condom, didn’t he?” Once again, you casually smile at him, eyes twinkling. Jisung slowly nods, and you burst into a hearty laugh. “I caught you carrying condoms in your wallet after you insisted that you’re not a fuckboy. Nice move, Han Jisung.”

Jisung groans.

“Are you done?” Jisung asks over the phone. After your “date,” it’s become a routine for him to visit you at the bookstore you work at to discuss the project (while subtly flirting with you because he wants to see you getting all sassy).

“Not yet,” you answer lowly. “My manager is here. You can come inside and wait.”

He forces his legs to walk faster and enters the bookstore. You wave at him from the cashier, gesturing at him to sit on one of the benches. You continue to serve the remaining customers, smiling at Jisung once in a while. He finds himself returning your smile with a bigger one, and he wonders how to convince you that he’s not as bad and shallow as you think.

A crazy idea pops into his mind, causing his palms to sweat. But he wants to do it, to at least try and see how you react. Jisung’s heart races when you say goodbye to your manager and approach him. You nudge his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

You shiver as soon as you open the door. “Where do you want to work?”

Jisung gestures at you to keep walking, giving you his phone and airpods. “You can just listen and give me feedback. I’ll edit once I get home, you must be tired.”

You keep repeating the song throughout the way to the bus station. You turn to Jisung when you’re done, punching his arm lightly. “Well done, this is much better. You can actually show it to Chan.”

“No way. Really?”

You press play once again, bopping your head to the soft beats. “The man tells the woman he loves her after a long time. It’s a happy moment, an achievement. Then he bids her farewell because he knows—both of them know—that the relationship will end badly. It’s sad, but relieving because at least they know what they feel about each other. The music is not sad, but it’s not happy either. It’s hopeful because the characters are going to start another journey, although without each other.”

“But you end it with that little piano sounds, so there’s a tinge of sadness left,” you continue. “And that’s wonderful. I think Chan will like it a lot.”

Jisung lets out the breath he doesn’t know he was holding. “You interpret it better than I ever will,” he mutters. “Thank you. I hope Chan won’t fire me now.”

“He won’t. He loves you and knows you’re talented,” you tell him. “Will you help me for my future projects? We have to create a short film for finals. I haven’t told you this, but I really love your style. I wish I could hear your songs more often.”

“I-I could just, y-you know, write you songs,” Jisung stutters. This is it. He has to tell you now or he will regret it for the rest of his life.

“Huh?”

“I can write you all the songs you want. I can even write songs about you.”

“What songs? Like diss tracks?”

“I take requests, so I can write you a diss track if you want me to. And I can definitely write love songs about you.”

“How is that possible? You’re unbelievable.”

Jisung stops, clearing his throat before focusing his eyes on you. “Date me,” he enunciates. “Date me, so I can write love songs about you. Maybe later you’ll realize that boys like me aren’t always fuckboys. At least, I’m not. And I’ll give you the privilege to break my heart. I know you can do it.”

You gape at him. “You’re asking me out just to test our theories?”

Great, you think that it’s a stupid idea. Of course it is, why would you want to date him just to—

“Okay,” you add. “I’ll go out with you.”

“Holy shit,” Jisung yelps. “I thought you would beat me up.”

Leaning on the lamppost, you wink at him. “It’ll be fun. But I’ll break all of your bones the moment you start disrespecting me.”

Jisung stands straighter at your tone. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“So, what now? You’re taking me home?” you suggest.

“If you’ll let me.”

You extend your hand, and Jisung quickly takes it before you change your mind. The two of you walk in comfortable silence until you reach your neighborhood. “Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?” Jisung shyly asks, tightening his grip on your hand.

“Sure!” you chirp, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Good night, Jisung.”

“Good night Y/N.”

You give him a small wave, a cheerful smile plastered on your face.

Jisung waves back, unable to erase the stupid grin on his face. Oh, you’re so going to break his heart, and he won’t even try to stop you.

Verse 2: “I just want to be yours, completely yours.”

“You did not just tell me you like horror movies.”

The two of you are currently standing in front of the self-ticket machine, bickering over what movie you should watch. In turns out, your movie taste clash; Jisung lives for horror movies while you despise them. People behind him start snickering, so Jisung pulls you away from the queue.

“While we’re at it, tell me what kind of movies you watch,” he begins, trying to hide his amusement at your frustration. “I love everything, except for horror. But the ones I often watch may put you to sleep.”

“And now, if you don’t want to watch It 2, what do you want to watch?”

“Nothing really interests me,” you express. “It’s fine, let’s just watch this. I’ll pick the movie next time.”

Jisung beams. “My princess is so understanding,” he coos.

You roll your eyes at him, but not pushing him away when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “How do you not cringe everytime you call me that.”

He pokes your cheek. “Because I know you secretly like it, and I’ll do anything that makes you happy.”

“Wow, you sound like you’re really in love with me,” you blurt out, completely unaware of the effect your words have on him. Who knows? Maybe I will, soon.

Three hours later, Jisung figures that you’re already playing with his feelings. During the entire movie, you didn’t flinch nor close your eyes. You didn’t even hold his hand for support (to be very honest, Jisung was quite disappointed at this).

“Y/N.”

You get startled at his voice, automatically stopping on your track. “Now everything startles me.” You clutch your chest in shock. “I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“For someone who doesn’t like horror, you endured everything well inside the theater.”

“Curiosity always gets the best of me.”

“You could’ve chosen another movie, and I would be okay with that. Next time don’t force yourself, okay?”

“It’s something you love,” you explain. “I know you won’t force me to do things I don’t like, and I won’t force you either, but if it’s something that I can still tolerate then I don’t mind. It’s not like we can’t compromise, right?”

There you go, saying thoughtful things that warms Jisung’s heart so nonchalantly. He only hums in response, picking up his pace since you’ve started running. “I’m running late!” you half-yell before sprinting towards the bookstore.

After a few blocks, both of you arrive at the bookstore, almost running out of breath. Jisung fixes your hair in a haste. “I’ll pick you up later? Watch another movie, maybe? A funny one so you’ll be able to sleep?”

You scrunch up your nose. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just call you if Pennywise appears in my room.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re scarier than him, Princess, don’t worry.”

Jisung is prepared for a punch on his shoulder or strings of cussing words from you.

But you reward him with a peck on his cheek instead.

It’s been two hours since your shift was supposed to end, but Jisung hasn’t heard anything from you. His messages are unread and you won’t pick up his call. Minho watches his friend paces back and forth in the living room.

“Dude just pick her up or go to her place, you’re stressing me out!”

“I don’t know if she will like it. She did say I didn’t need to pick her up.”

“Are you really dating her? You’ve never been like this before.”

Jisung plops onto the sofa, massaging his temples. Minho won’t understand, especially since he’s the one who totally fits your “boys like you” criteria. “I am, but the whole thing is different.”

“Like, how?” Minho deadpans.

“We’re dating to test our theories about each other. About love.”

“So you two are just fooling around?”

“No!” Jisung insists. “It’s not like that. We’re dating, but I have to admit that things are getting more serious than I expected.”

Minho rubs his chin. “Isn’t that what you want? You seem to really like her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

The doorbell suddenly rings. Minho opens the door, surprised to see you there. “Y/N?” he gasps. “Are you okay? Are you crying?”

Jisung’s ears perk up at the word crying and he immediately rushes to you. He cradles your face, examining you from head to toe. “I was so worried Y/N. What the hell happened?” he questions. Minho grabs his phone and wallet from the buffet, mouthing that he’ll give the two of you some time alone.

You circle your arms around Jisung’s waist after Minho closes the door, wetting his sweatshirt with your tears. Jisung automatically takes you into his embrace, stroking your hair in the hopes of calming you down. “Some old man tried to make a pass at me,” you sob. “I almost slapped him but my friends stopped me. The owner has banned him from coming.”

Jisung tightens his hold on you, guilt starting to overtake him. He should have come to you, he should have just come to you. Why did he hesitate? “Motherfucker,” he splutters. “God—I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Why are you saying sorry?” you try to laugh. “I’m fine, Jisung. I’m just… mad. And a little bit scared, but I’m okay. Seriously though, men have no manners.”

“I know,” he replies. “I’m sorry. I hope it won’t ever happen again. I won’t let it happen, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

You snort, pulling away to pinch his cheeks. “Then who’s gonna protect you? I know you watch horror movies well but everything else scares you.”

Jisung’s lips stretch into a loving smile, wiping your tears with his hands. “I’ll try my best. You can trust me,” he says. “Should I take you home now?”

You seem to consider his offer before burying your face in chest again. Jisung hopes you can’t hear his heart beating violently due to the close proximity. “Jisung, you okay?” you hum. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

Of course, he won’t be able to fool you.

“Yeah. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“Can I sleep over?”

Jisung separates you from his body before you can hear his heart jumping out of its ribcage. “All I can think about is Pennywise now,” you sigh, searching for approval in his eyes. Jisung feels his legs weaken, so he squeezes your shoulders. “You sure? Do you feel comfortable sleeping in my room with Minho sleeping next door? Oh fuck it, why am I encouraging you to change your mind? Of course you can sleep over. You can trust me, and you can trust Minho too. And it’s not that I’ll even let him touch a strand of your hair!” he blabbers.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Minho’s name. “Lee Minho is hot, I don’t mind having him around.”

“You go around declaring that men have no manners and boys like me are fuckboys yet you don’t mind having Lee fucking Minho around?!”

Once again, you wrap your arms around his waist, and Jisung wastes no time in returning your hug although his eyes are angry now. “I have you, right? You’re not an asshole, you won’t let anything happen to me.”

Jisung sighs in defeat, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re impossible.”

After putting you to bed (with much difficulty because you kept commenting at how messy his room is), Jisung finds himself lying on the couch, staring at his room. Minho is already back and is now asleep (but not before he gave his roommate a whole warning to not say anything that can damage Jisung’s reputation).

Are you sleeping well? Are you still sad? Do you really think that Minho is hot or were you just playing with him?

His questions seem to reach your mind because seconds later, you slide the door open. You walk towards him, kneeling down to see him better. “JIsung-ah,” you call out softly. “Are you asleep?”

Jisung blinks, heat rising to his cheeks because you’re staring at him so intensely. “Not yet. What is it? You can’t sleep?”

“You can sleep inside, it’s cold out here,” you whisper. “It’s fine, I can sleep anywhere like a log.” He rubs your hand. “Go back to sleep.”

Jisung sits up when you don’t budge. “What if I also want you to be next to me?” you murmur, but he hears everything loud and clear. He carries you back inside his room with saying a word, hoping that this isn’t just a test he will fail.

He lays you down gently, which surprises himself since he tends to do everything in a rush. Jisung settles himself beside you, ready to finally sleep when you scoot closer and put your arms around his torso. “Thank you for today,” you say.

Jisung turns around to face you, slowly pulling you into his arms. “What did I do?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Being there for me,” you reply. “You didn’t doubt me, you didn’t blame me.”

Jisung lifts your chin so he can look into your eyes. “Why would I blame you? You really should’ve kicked that man’s ass.”

You break into a smile, and Jisung can’t hold himself anymore. The feeling of you in his embrace, your smile, the way you look at him, and the warmth of your words are driving him crazy. Jisung realizes it’s always been like that since the very first time he met you: you’ve always driven him crazy.

“Y/N.” He licks his lips. “I want to start over. I want us to date without thinking about the goddamn theories. I don’t care about them anymore. I just want to be yours, completely yours. I’m not saying this only because I want to date, I only want to date you. And I don’t want to think about breaking up with you once we finish proving those theories. I won’t be able to handle it, I like you too much.”

You blink at him, staring at him long and intense Jisung feels like burning. You cup his face, tilting your head to peck him on the lips. It ends way too soon for his liking, but he already wants to faint.

“Aren’t I your Princess already? That means you’re automatically mine.”

Jisung chuckles, a huge burden is lifted off his chest as you snuggle to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Nice move, Han Jisung. Confessing to me when I’m in your bed and feeling sentimental as hell.”

“Sorry Princess, but you’re too irresistible. I just gotta make you mine right here, right now.”

“Go to sleep.”

“As you wish,” he sighs dreamily, peppering kisses on the top of your head until you fall asleep.

“Where are you? The food is ready.”

Jisung rummages through his pile of clothes on the floor, picking up a random black shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. His phone is on the bed, speaker on so he could actually get ready while you’re hollering at him.

“I’ll be on my way soon, Princess. Please don’t get mad,” he pleads.

“I took a day off from my part-time job for you, Jisung. But you’re acting like my time isn’t precious at all,” you answer, a little softer this time. Jisung chews the inside of his cheek; you’re right. He’s always late although he barely has time to meet you thesedays.

He swears he doesn’t mean to, but whenever he’s about to meet you, misfortunes always happen: his alarm doesn’t go off, he has an appointment he can’t cancel, or he’s too tired to get out of his bed. You get into petty arguments whenever you meet, but you forgive him every single time although Jisung himself knows he’s being stubborn. As he slips on his shirt, Jisung wonders if this is the beginning of the end.

“Okay,” you finally mumble. “Be careful.”

Jisung ends the call, running as fast as he can to your apartment complex. He considers taking the stairs, but remembers that you live on the 20th floor and decides to wait for the elevator. When he finally enters your flat, his eyes brim with tears.

You’re sleeping on the sofa, two portions of jjajjangmyeon along with a bowl of caramel popcorn are on the table. The television is on, ready to play Along with the Gods because Jisung wants to re-watch it tonight.

He’s the luckiest man on Earth yet he keeps disappointing you. It pains him how small mistakes may really destroy both of you.

Jisung crouches down, wiping his tears quickly before planting a kiss on your lips. You stir, opening your eyes.

“Hi,” you yawn. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“I missed you,” Jisung rasps. “So much.”

He pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his tense muscles relaxing when you hum knowingly against his skin. “I missed you too. Wanna talk about it?” you offer, patting his back softly.

“About what?”

“You had a bad day.”

“And you’re sleepy,” he retorts. “Let’s just sleep.”

“Not before you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Jisung gives up, deciding to tell you how swamped he is with projects and how everything doesn’t seem to go his way. You listen to him—although through half-lidded eyes—giving him all suggestions and reassurance he doesn’t even know he needs.

Sometimes Jisung still thinks about the theories both of you wanted to prove months ago. He remembers how sure he was that yours was wrong. He was not an insensitive asshole.

Maybe he is now. And you don’t deserve it.

The thing is, Jisung is selfish. Losing you is something he fears the most, and now, surrounded by your warmth and soft caresses, he makes a silent promise to fix everything. To make himself worthy of you and your love again.

“Y/N.” He lifts himself up just enough to see your face, smiling at your sleepy face. “I love you.”

You freeze, eyes boring into his, trying to look for traces of lies. He stays in his position and waits for you to say something, anything, before his heart explodes and breaks into a million pieces.

“You do, now?” you reply, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Jisung waits for you to say it back, but you soon fall asleep in his arms.

Jisung had the best dream ever. He dreamed of going on vacation with you, and you always wore your brightest smile that he loved so much. But that wasn’t even the best part.

In his dream, you told him that you loved him.

In reality, Jisung wakes up to an empty bed. He checks his phone, relieved to see some messages from you.

princess : hv some cereal before you go, but pls wash the dishes

princess: dont forget to make the bed or ur dead

me: im a slave 4 u, ma’am, dont worry

The tone of your messages doesn’t change, and for now it’s enough to soothe his heart. Jisung makes the bed as you requested before examining your room. He’s seen all his photos you pinned on the wall, but now you’ve written comments underneath some of them.

Jisung’s eyes fall on a photo of him munching on his chocolate. The comment reads, “Please eat more, you’re too skinny.”

Another photo sees him sitting in front of his laptop with his headphones on. “You’re the coolest composer, you know that, right?”

Jisung recognizes the last photo as the one taken during one of your beach dates (in which he dragged Minho to be his designated photographer). You had begged him for a piggy back ride, and he eventually caved. Jisung flaunted his gummy smile as you pressed your lips on his right cheek. Underneath the photo, you wrote, “Jisung-ah, I’m so happy with you. Thank you.”

He wonders why you keep all these thoughts to yourself. These are your love letters for him, they beat all the “Han Jisung, I love you too” scenarios Jisung have inside his head. Why wouldn’t you just tell him that? Is it because he hasn’t been the best boyfriend thesedays?

After taking a photo of your “love shrine” (for blackmail purposes), Jisung leaves his notebooks inside one of your drawers, the ones filled with lyrics he wrote for you and about you. You wrote him the sweetest love letters, and he’s going to fulfill the promise he made when he asked you out.

You deserve to know every little detail of his feelings for you.

“Y/N… about last night… are you mad at me? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stop flicking through channels, dropping the remote to ponder Jisung’s question. “Yeah, I am,” you admit. “But we’ve fought enough. I don’t wanna waste my energy.”

“So you’re going to let me be a jerk?! What if I never snapped out of it? What if I never apologized to you? Or feel guilty?! You have to beat the shit out of me, Y/N. You can’t be this nice!”

You prop your chin on your knees, closing your eyes. “Last night, I planned to break up with you.”

Jisung pales at your confession. “Princess, I’m—”

“Please hear me out first,” you cut him off. “These past few weeks have been tough, I honestly thought you cheated on me. When you were late again last night, I told myself to end things with you. But then I fucking fell asleep, and then as soon as I saw you, I didn’t want to do it anymore. Plus you looked like a mess last night.”

“I kept wondering if we’re trapped in a toxic relationship. And it angered me. I hated myself for keep wanting to forgive you. When you told me that you love me… I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know whether you were being sincere or just caught up in the moment.”

Tears start rolling down your cheeks. “That’s why I didn’t answer. This morning, I decided to give you one last chance.”

“Did I… ruin it?” Jisung asks sheepishly, wiping your tears gently.

You shake your head. “I acted like nothing happened, but you still apologized. And complained about me not telling you about this sooner.”

“So that means…?”

“That means,” you begin. “Your theory is right. Dumping someone feels worse than getting dumped. Yesterday, memories of us fighting flooded my mind as I created a whole speech in my head about how much I hated you. It made me wanna explode, and that was the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. Resentment is tiring, but the moment you stepped into the living room I know I don’t hate you.”

Jisung heaves a sigh of relief, placing his hand on top of yours carefully. “And your theory is wrong. You broke my heart. You truly did. I told you I love you, and when you didn’t say it back… I felt horrible... although I know it’s all my fault. You have me wrapped around your finger, Princess, I hope you know that.”

“Anyways, I saw your lovely comments for me on the photos,” he teases, knowing you meant to keep it a secret.

“Fucking hell!” you yell. “I forgot to hide them!”

“Why don’t you tell me now, then.”

Your lips curl into a teasing smile. “If I tell you I love you now, will you kiss me?”

Before you even properly say it, Jisung is already hovering over you, cupping your face and crashing his lips on yours. It just occurs to him that he’s never kissed you like this; it was always light pecks here and there. Jisung doesn’t know how he survived that, because nothing beats feeling your lips moving against his. Nothing beats the feeling of you tugging his hair, sighing in contentment when he starts exploring your warm mouth. Jisung tries to remember every single sensation; the way you curl your arms around his neck, the way you keep pulling him down to you as if he’s not close enough, the way you squirm as he nibbles your bottom lip gently.

“I love you,” you whisper in between feverish kisses he leaves every now and then. He pauses, finally letting himself breathe. You hold stars in your eyes, and those stars are all for him to see. It’s overwhelming, so all Jisung does is pressing another kiss on your lips. Moments later, when the lack of oxygen forces him to stop, he pulls away.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, trying to stop himself from kissing you again because he needs to tell you this first.

“For…?”

“Loving me.”

Chan’s graduation project has finally been screened, earning a standing ovation from everybody present. He invited all his crew to dinner, which has turned into a congratulatory party for Jisung and you. “You two didn’t disappoint me,” Chan exclaims. “I guess you’re the reason why Jisung finished his demo early, right Y/N?”

You wink cockily at him. “Han Jisung is nothing without me.”

Chan ruffles your hair before raising his hand to get everyone’s attention. “My last few months as a student felt amazing thanks to you guys. I’m sure you all know how thankful I am for each of you, so I won’t bore you with my speech. Now, Seungmin, I believe you have something to say.”

Kim Seungmin stands up, unfolding a piece of paper that sparks mixed reactions from the crowd. “Lee Felix, Hwang Hyunjin, Choi Jisu,” he announces. “Each of you owes ₩20,000 to me, Chan, and Shin Yuna because you guys freaking lost!” He claps, then turning to both of you. “Jisung and Y/N, thank you for making us rich!”

Everyone cheers while you and Jisung look dumbfounded. “All of you bet on us?!” you scream in disbelief. “Whoa I can’t believe you guys! Even you, Chan?”

The senior only chuckles. “Everyone was stressed out at how slow you two were but you guys were so annoyingly cute we couldn’t help ourselves!”

Seungmin collects all the money from the lost participants before distributing it to each of the winners. When he gets to Chan, the latter shakes his head. “Just use the money for round 2, I’ll pay the rest as well.”

The whole room cheers again, quickly getting up from their seats and debating about which place to go. You immediately start interrogating Seungmin, wanting to know what exactly happened during the whole production process.

Jisung taps Chan’s shoulder. “I believe I haven’t thanked you.”

Chan frowns. “For what?”

Jisung slips his hands into his jeans pocket, smiling at you as you turn around to check on him. “For making the whole project happened. For the whole, ‘Sometimes it’s not about fate or timing. It’s about choice.’ It kept me going, even when I thought Y/N and I weren’t meant to be. There are times when we just have to keep trying, aren’t we?”

“Well, thank you for remembering what I said. But it wasn’t me. It happened because you did try, Jisung. All of us have to make choices at some point, but not a lot of people actually have strength and will to do that. You did, so kudos to you. I’m trying to do the same myself, wish me luck, okay?”

Jisung snorts. “This is getting sappy, but thank you. And I will.”

Both boys laugh, exchanging playful slaps on each other’s back until you come up to them.

“Hey Chan, can I borrow Jisung for a sec?”

Chan shoves Jisung towards you. “If I catch you two sneaking out before round 2 is done, I’ll end you!”

You wave at Chan, and Jisung is now glued to your side. “What is it?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. “I found your notebooks.”

He grins. “You did? I thought I’d have to tell you about them. They’re nice, right? I’ve recorded some of them, I’ll let you listen later.”

You cross your arms. “The ones in the black notebook are nice. I’m a goddess and I agree. But what are you gonna say about the red notebook?”

Jisung smirks at your question, dropping a quick kiss on your lips. “What about it? You wanna make everything I wrote there come true? I can do that, Princess. Whenever you want,” he whispers seductively.

His original plan was only to leave you the black notebook that contains all the sweetest lyrics he’s ever written. But then he thought it wouldn’t be fair if you only know that side of him. You have every right to know about his sexy thoughts too.

“I just want you to know me. All of me. And everything I feel about you, including the things I really, really want to do to you,” he continues.

You tiptoe to whisper into his ear, “Maybe later.”

“Later?!” Jisung shouts. “Later as in tonight?!”

You shrug, and now Jisung is dragging you to the opposite direction of where his friends are going. “Chan hyung! You can nag us later but we really need to go home right now!”

Everyone whistles, including Chan, so Jisung takes it as a yes and quickens his pace. You, meanwhile, are looking at the snacks stalls along the street.

“I’m still hungry. Let’s stop by to buy hotteok first.”

Groaning in frustration, Jisung knows he has no choice but to follow you. As he watches you enjoying your hotteok, he thinks about the moment when he desperately wanted to prove you wrong.

Jisung has nothing to prove now. You gave his heart a chance. You gave him a chance, and he’ll make sure to cherish you as long as he can.

more a/n: and it’s done! This story seems simple but writing it, I think the theme is a little bit hard to grasp. I hope you guys can understand everything that Jisung feels...

991 notes · View notes

iamfandom00 · 4 years ago

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[some of] you asked for it, so here’s more unhinged danny phantom commentary

season 1 ep 13/production code 015: "fright night" - this is The Halloween Episode, so naturally it had to be shoved into the October 29 air slot. I was scared cuz i forgot for a sec that i had this in drafts instead of just on my laptop but its all good now

- cool design on the eel

- holy shit dash takes no prisoners lol

- is this deal legal tho? like, idk if i trust the other kids to not tattle to faculty, and breaking zero tolerance in favor of an even worse idea...

- wait why didn’t they go with fright knight with a k for the title? that’s totally in line with their whole thing

- danny uses his powers for a lot of fairly mundane things and honestly yes.

- tucker is unimpressed

- oooo shit! the lore turns out to be real!

surely the ghosts themselves have given it a better name than ghost zone, right? what do they call it?

- wait whos klemper

- so... your idea... is to go "visit" a ghost... the spirit of halloween... the spirit of being scared fucking shitless... and ask him to give some pointers on how to decorate your haunted house well enough to avoid detention?

- oh. alright then. youre just gonna... recreate his room

- workout idea: binge this series and do a squat for every time danny makes a bad decision, not under any particular duress, able to think it through, etc., and every time his parents or jazz come in and make the scene awkward do a wall sit or plank and hold it for the duration of whatever scene is in question.

- ah. predictably, we cut to the fenton portal

- you do understand how this situation isn’t really so desperate as to warrant this death wish of a mission, right?

- great idea, get closer to the purple pumpkin with the glowing sword

- "which means it’ll scare the pAhants off of lancer" the voice actor is gold i swear to god

- it may sound like im just ripping on dp but i have a tendency to pause stuff anyway and think out my thoughts/commentate in my head. this is why im doing this

- but like serious note i fuckin love this, i love these characters. it’s a really good show and i need it like i need air

- okay but back to the commentary you really just took the sword didn’t you? think stuff through tho my dude ffs kid

- "i’ll bring it back" KID OH MY GOD PLEASE JUST PUT IT BACK AND GET SOME NERD TO LEND YOU HIS PROP FOR A [k]NIGHT

- +1 plank

- or maybe you don’t worry enough

- "whats the worst that could happen" just for that, +5 squats

- jelloapocalypse

- "soul-shredder" are we sure this isnt an anime in disguise??

- is tucker always this dense

- he bounce

- danny youre supposed to be the good guy

- GOD the animations good

- okay in the fight scene it feels a little off model. hopefully it didn’t just get rushed through production

- however the action sequences are BADASS

- oh come on dude you KNOW his parents are weirdos, you can’t just revoke the win like that >>:C

- all in all: v spoopy, very good story

- end of episode question: who’s your favorite ghost?

#danny phantom #fright night #episode thoughts #commentary #original content #oc

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little-blood-bear · 5 years ago

Text

Bloodborne fic; Fair Maidens, and How to Pick Them Up.

I’ve got a Gehrmaria long fic percolating in my brain but I wrote this recently and I’m not sure if it’ll fit the tone of what I end up with, so I’ll just post it here as is. Fluff, silliness, comedy, Gehrman and Maria being absolute disasters. I’ve included Henriett and Izzy here, I have no idea if the timeline fits with them here but I didn’t want nameless hunters #1 and #2 in the background here. I headcanon Izzy as male for the funzies (in my timeline his real name is Isembard but he hates it, he finds Izzy less embarassing) and I know Henriett uses a Kirkhammer in game but again, timeline stuff. I’m aware.

Gehrman rises early that morning, not that he had managed to get much sleep; a night on which his students go on the hunt without him is always an anxious time. He tries to distract himself, hunching over a drafting table, sketching out weapon designs when he hears them returning, Excitable chatter, laughter, boots tramping on the path leading to the workshop. He prays that they were more stealthy while they were hunting but at least if they’re laughing, that means no one got hurt. He heads downstairs and opens the door to the workshop to meet them on the doorstep.

“Well? How did you fare?” He asks, leaning on the door jamb to feign nonchalance, while surreptitiously looking over his charges for any sign of injury.

“We stabbed some beasts. The Church is cleaning up. That’s it really,” Izzy said with a shrug.

“Many thanks for that most edifying of reports, Izzy.” Gehrman rolls his eyes and heads back inside. “Any injuries?”

“One of them took a little nibble at Maria,” Henriett points out, despite Maria flapping and hissing at her to keep her mouth shut.

“What?” Gehrman whirls around to face them again. “How bad?”

“It’s nothing. A scratch.” Maria insists.

“Let me see.” He beckons to her, just urgent enough to be considered frantic.

“Gehrman, I swear,” Maria sighs deeply as she takes off her glove and rolls up her sleeve to reveal a freshly bandaged arm, “It’s not serious. It probably won’t even scar.”

He cradles her hand in his and examines the dressing. “You should have this looked at. I’ll take you to-”

“We stopped off at a clinic on the way here,” Maria interrupts. “They cleaned it, dressed it, I’ve taken blood.” She shoots him an encouraging smile, “I’m perfectly well.”

Gehrman lays his other hand over hers and squeezes gently. “One mistake.” He stares at her face intently, “ That’s all it takes, one-”

“One mistake, and it’s all over. I know.”

With Gehrman and Maria gazing into each other's eyes, they don’t notice Henriett smirking to herself as she quietly backs out of the door. She pauses in her stealthy retreat to tug on Izzy’s sleeve, in the hope he’ll follow suit.

“Right!” Izzy announces, ignoring Henriett’s call for a subtle exit, “If there’s nothing else, I’m off to the pub.” Gehrman immediately releases Maria’s hand, while she takes a step backwards, sheepishly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. For her part, Henriett stares in Izzy’s direction, wondering if there are any hunter techniques that would allow her to kill with a glare. “Maria?” Izzy barrels on obliviously, “Can you still lift a pint with that arm?”

“I think I shall head home, I need a bath.” She slips past the other two hunters, her cheeks burning. “Until later.”

“All right,” says Izzy. “Henriett?”

“You go ahead. I’ll be along in a minute,” she pauses before muttering under her breath, “You big galoot.” She dumps her battleaxe on the floor and rolls her shoulders back, working out the kinks in her tired muscles. “Boss? Can I have a word?”

“Is something wrong?” Asks Gehrman.

“Yes,” she sighs, rummaging in her knapsack. “I held off doing this but I fear I cannot put it off any longer.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Henriett holds out a book bound in dark-blue cloth. “You need this.”

Gehrman takes the volume from her and reads the title out loud. “How to Pick Up Fair M-” He clamps his mouth shut and glares at her.

Henriett holds her hands up. “Don’t get angry. I just can’t take it anymore! I can’t stand watching you two make cow eyes at each other but not do anything about it. You need a nudge.” She gestures towards the book. “Consider yourself nudged.”

“This is wildly inappropriate, Henriett, I am surprised at you!”

She ignores his tirade and takes the book back off him. “The good news is, you don’t need to read the whole thing. Since you are already acquainted with the fair maiden in question, you can skip straight ahead to chapter three...” she flicks through the pages then turns the book around, holding it open towards him. “Wooing.”

Gehrman splutters, “My personal affairs are none of your concern.”

“You’re not having any affairs, that’s the problem!”

“Get out.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

“Out!”

Henriett shuts the book and lays it on a table, “I’ll just leave this here,” she says, tapping it for emphasis. “Happy reading.” She retreats to retrieve her axe and swiftly exits the building.

Gehrman folds his arms across his chest and walks in angry circles around the workshop, grousing to himself. “The impudence...I ask you…” He shoots the odd baleful glance at the offending publication sitting on the table before halting in his angry pacing to stare down the book. He sets his lips in a thin line and drums his fingers on his arm. He eventually tuts, “Oh, curse you, Henriett.” He picks up the book and flicks through to the chapter Henriett had pointed out. He skims the paragraphs, reading the odd passage aloud under his breath. “While the fairer sex undoubtedly value strength, one can never discount the importance of tender sensibility. Consider writing your intended a heart-felt poem-” He snaps the book shut and chucks it back on the table. “Poetry?” He snorts. “Ye gods, she’d eviscerate me.”

#bloodborne fanfiction #my writing #gehrmaria #Gehrman x Maria #Gehrman the first hunter #lady maria of the astral clocktower #Old Hunter Henriett #Irreverent Izzy

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way-veee · 4 years ago

Text

yan yu

rating: m

genre: romance, fluff, comedy, wayv being absolute crackheads

word count: 1.5k +

pairing: reader x wayv

pt. 6

“okay, sure, has the osaka part of the report been sent in yet? the editors need it by friday, also can you get me an estimated time for the cover photo and staff member list?”

you roll your eyes as your manage asks you a multitude of questions over the phone due to the change in arrival.

“yes i sent in the report yesterday and the cover photo will be taken on the last day. everything’s fine, don’t worry i got this.”

you hear her huff through your phone.

“okay that’s great. i read part of the preview you sent over last week and it seemed pretty good. keep up work like that and the report will be trending in no time.”

you nod into the phone.

“listen,“ you start, “ i was wondering. what would happen if maybe i covered wayv in a not so unrealistic light. what if i focused more on their struggles and issue with their company-”

“y/n” your manager snaps, definitely upset. “if you do that you’re fired. do you hear me? we don’t need our company getting shit on by sm or their fans because you wanted to have some political coverage to make you feel authentic or whatever. if i see anything like that i’ll fire you right on the spot. i swear to god.”

“okay i’ll take that as no. nice talking to you as always.”

“you too” she responds flatly.

she hangs up a second later and you pocket your phone, ready to go out.

you try to push probably being fired from your job out of your mind and enjoy the day.

wayv was at the studio again today, practicing their choreography and finishing lyrics. you wanted to get more coverage on the process for the report so you decided to go as well.

the boys left earlier in the morning than you, and not wanting to wake up at 6:30 to sit in a cold practice room, you had declined.

you go to the cafeteria and get a latte and bagel for your breakfast. you tuck the bagel in your purse for later and walk out the front exit of the building to get to the bus stop.

it was cold while waiting for the bus so you put on your hat to keep warm. the bus came fifteen minutes later and you gladly boarded, taking one of the only empty spots beside a girl that looked about your age. the bus took off with a jolt and you leaned back into your seat sipping your vanilla latte.

“hey i know you!”

you look over at the girl surprised, you didn’t think you knew her.

“you were in my vocal class senior year!”

you inspect the girls face more thoroughly. her sloped nose and clear skin jogged your memory.

“ohhh i remember you! you’re nene, the one who sang adele for their final exam.”

(not very well if you recall correctly)

“ya! that’s me!” she responds cheerfully while looking you up and down “and you sang....”

“i didn’t.” you reply embarrassed, looking past her at the highway falling behind the bus window.

“riiight, that was when you ran out of the exam and threw up in front of the science classrooms!”

you nod desperately trying to forget when you were too nervous to perform and vomited in front of your classmates.

“then the principal came but you wanted to come back and-”

“how’s the singing going now?” you cut in, slightly annoyed.

“oh great!” she replies with perfect teeth and rosy lips.

“i’m still doing auditions but i have a feeling something big is coming my way. plus i’ve already achieved something better!”

“what’s that” you reply, losing interest in the pretty girl from high school that you remembered was also quite boring.

“i’m dating a celebrity!” she yells.

everybody on the bus slowly turns to look at us, mostly annoyed at us being loud. you shrink down wanting to disappear from this conversation.

“oh, that’s so cool...” you say not wanting anything more to do with this girl.

“do you wanna know who it was?”

“no that’s okay, you probably shouldn’t tell people anywa-”

“they were in nct 127!”

“what” you say a little too loudly.

“you heard me” she smirks definitely liking your shocked reaction.

she disinterestedly plays with a pink charm on her purse. she was going to make you ask to her to tell the rest of the story. you had to know a little bit more because wayv and nct 127 were both sub units.

you hated girls like this.

“nene, can you please tell me a little more? if you can, i understand if you can’t but-”

“okay, it was like 5 months ago and i was at one of the recording studios downtown doing backup vocals for this really cool band called the rain and as i was going to get a snack they literally walked right past me.”

she retells the story so perfectly and without skipping a beat. you figured she was telling the truth.

“and i totally make eye contact with taeyong. like eye contact” she emphasizes making big eyes at you while continuing.

“the recording manager said that they’d be on a break in 20 so i waited outside and when taeyong came out he says hi to me. and we talk for a little bit and he gives me his number! his actual phone number.”

“wow” you say trying to sound enthusiastic. maybe this was just a boring story and you shouldn’t have asked about it.

“so then a week later we set a date at the dorms... and you know” she says smiling cheekily at me.

“he was super sweet too, he told me this funny story of when mark went on a date with a reporter because she kept writing bad articles about them and she totally thinks that he likes her and that they’re like dating or something. anyways, when i got there..”

your jaw dropped. it made sense now. why they were nice to you and became your friend so suddenly.

god you were so dumb,

why didn’t you think that the managers of wayv would also get the rough drafts of your report too. they definitely told the boys about what you had initially said.

it was apparent now that they were just using you so you’d write a positive report based off of friendship not truth.

“hey y/n?” nene says pinching your arm with her pointy nails. “oh...” she says while definitely trying to suppress her smile. “i forgot, aren’t you are reporter too?” she tilts her head looking at you bemusedly to see how you’d react.

“this is my stop” you say while gesturing to the red flashing light announcing the street that the dance studio is at.

“bye y/n!” nene screeches from inside the bus. “you know where to contact me!”

you wave meekly as the doors shut and the bus passes by you.

while walking to the studio your sadness of being deceived turns into anger and embarrassment. you hated celebrities and vocal majors and cold days and bagels.

you walk into the building and find the room number you had written down on a piece of paper. you walk up two flights of stairs and down a large hallway with closed doors.

finally, you bust into their room to see them by the full length mirrors practicing formations.

they saw the pain and anger on your face and were frightened by how different you seemed.

“y/n, are you okay?” kun asks getting up off of the floor visibly concerned.

you knew that you shouldn’t do this here for so many different reasons. but you felt like you had too. wayv meant too much to you for it all to be fake.

“is this real.” you ask, staring at them and their confused expressions.

“y/n what do you mean-” kun starts

“is this real. is our friendship real?”

they look at you quizzically. why were you bringing this up now.

“yes, we’re friends now. remember we got past the whole hating eachother bit and banded together to make music and you were gonna write the article-”

you cut ten off sharply

“are you just being nice to me because of my job. because you want me to write something nice about you guys.”

they stay silent as you feverishly try to push back tears. the buzz of the room is so loud in your ears.

“i know this is dumb because we haven’t known eachother for long. but i thought that we were friends. i thought you guys- you superstars liked me for who i was. i- over this week i was really happy working and talking with you guys. i’m so stupid to think that you would actually like me.”

you started to get really nervous for speaking your thoughts to them in a rom-com fashion. you wanted to crawl into the floors and disappear.

everyone is quiet for a moment. thinking over what you said as you clutch the cold bagel in your purse trying not to cry.

“what about the song? do you think that was fake? or that we do that with every reporter?” lucas asks.

you look up at them.

“do you know what yan yu means?” yangyang asks

“of course” you reply. “ it means to speak”

“that’s going to be the name of our new title track.” he replies

you look at yangyang wanting him to explain.

winwin steps forward slightly looking at the ground.

“we called it yan yu because you allowed us to speak. because of all that you’ve done while you’ve been here. the thing we care about most isn’t the article, it’s having our own voices. we want to tell the world- through our music that we’re ready to be heard because we finally have something we can say that’s ours. this is all because of you, we can speak now because of you.”

you look into his eyes as they soften in the corners. you know that what winwin said is real because he never liked you enough in the first place to make up such a heartfelt lie.

you start to melt a little as you continue to process the words.

“if we wanted you to write a positive article we would’ve just seduced you.” hendery says. “it’s easier and probably has faster results especially if there’s more of us-”

you run and hug hendery before he finishes. you smile in his arms as he hugs you back. you pretend that you’re not crying but his shirt is probably wet now, so they’ll find out very soon.

what they said was so sincere and nice. you were now convinced that what you had with the boys was real to them too.

all of your worries from early dissipate into the stale air above you. you felt someone hug you from behind only to feel lucas’s warm chest against your back. you smiled bigger as you felt the other members join your hug, feeling warmer and warmer each time a member joins.

a moment later when they were all silent you spoke, trying to not let your voice crack from your crying.

“you deserve to be heard. you guys have so many important things to say and a lot of music that needs to be listened to. i’m glad i could help you all become the fantastic artists you’ve always been.”

you feel the hug tighten around you and you swear your heart smiles within your chest.

how were you ever going to phrase this in the report.

“no, xiaojuns arm is too far above lucas’s it looks weird.”

“are you sure that’s not what the video looks like?” ten questions walking over to inspect the boys formation.

“no shes right” he says moments later after glancing at the laptop screen.

he adjusts their arms and they slowly runs through the next steps as you try to compare them to the video they had given you on one of their laptops.

you stop them seconds later, “lucas coming down from the high kick you were behind by a few seconds and henderey you need to extend your leg more.”

they run the moves again as you enjoy your newfound power over the boys. they had been practicing a new intro choreo for their music bank performance for a little over two hours.

you had agreed to help them because you thought it would be good to add how much hard work and dedication it took to just perform a two minute intro for your article.

okay, another part of you also felt bad for barging into the practice room, accusing them of being fake friends and thinking that they were influencing you so you’d use the little power you did have to make them look good. maybe a little more of the second, but they didn’t need to know that.

“wait stop! did you guys change that cross formation there or was it in the second half.”

“um,” ten says while sweating and breathing vigorously from the nonstop motion. “we changed the triangle formation in the second half to the diagonal line. this is the cross formation.”

“okay, i wasn’t sure, i’ll mark it down. also lucas and yangyang you guys need to fix your levels on that cross because it looks unbalanced” you say while scribbling that down on the stage direction sheet.

“jeesh” xiaojun whispers to the boys, “she’s worse than our choreographer and that’s his actual job.”

the boys chuckle while glancing over at you as you wrote the note down.

“well we’ll be out of here faster and the performance will be good.” kun shrugs while trying to hold back how tired he really was.

lucas pokes kun’s shoulder with one of his long fingers and he goes tumbling down to the ground. the boys laugh hysterically.

“you won’t even be able to walk by the time we do have to perform!” lucas yells in his face while laughing at the tiny amount of pressure that had sent him tumbling to the ground.

“okay we’re gonna take it from the top one more time!” kun yells at you while trying to get up off the ground as the boys continue to laugh at him instead of helping him.

you nod and rewind the video. you had a few more notes but wasn’t sure if they could handle it today. kun seemed pretty tired so reluctantly you just pressed play and let the music run.

you watched the boys in such fascination at how fast and expertly their bodies moved. it was insane to you how some of them couldn’t even dance before becoming trainees but now were better than some professional dancers.

the boys were hard at work on this sunday afternoon. practicing the same painstaking motions over and over again until it morphed into art. to this day i will never understand how idols can turn such mundane actions into a performance piece worthy of national acclaim. for now i have only one solution, i believe there is something inside them that is extraordinary.

part 7 will be linked down here:)

#wayv #lucas #xiaojun #hendery #yangyang #ten #kun #winwin #wayvxreader #wayvsmut #wayvxy/n #slowburn

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katehuntington · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Changes - part ten Word count: ±3300 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part ten: Zoë wakes up in the dark, under ground and finds the victims she was looking for, but will they be able to get out of the grim situation. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: I super excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Slowly, Zoë regains consciousness and opens her eyes. Not that it makes much of a difference, she still can’t see a damn thing. A disturbing smell fills her nostrils, a mixture of rotten remains and sewer waste causing her to gag. She wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what is actually causing the stench. She rubs her face and groans, then pulls her hand back. Her fingers feel sticky, she recognizes the substance just by feeling it. The huntress blinks a couple of times in an attempt to drive the splitting headache away, licking her lips and tasting the metallic taste of blood on them. Where the hell is she and what the fuck happened? Tentatively, she explores her surroundings by touch, feeling three walls and eventually prison bars; she’s trapped. Then she hears soft wailing in the distance. “Anyone there?” she calls out. “Y-yes.” Zoë curses internally; shit. Her question is answered by a child. “Are you okay?” Zoë asks, friendly. “No,” she sniffles. “What’s your name, sweety?” “I’m Lizzy--” “-who are you?” A female voice, much older than the young girl she was just talking to, bounces off the concrete walls. “I’m Zoë,” the huntress answers, leaving her false names out this time. “Are you Michelle?” “Yeah.”

Zoë closes her eyes and sighs. It’s Terry Cliffer’s wife, and she’s assuming Lizzy is short for Lisbeth, their daughter. Wild guess her little brother, who she remembers to be three years old from the records, is stuck here as well. The fear and hopelessness is evident in their voices. Who knows how long they have been down here. Damnit, this is even worse than she expected. They are trapped God knows where and if she herself doesn’t even know where she is, the police surely aren't gonna find them either. For a moment, she regrets sending Sam and Dean away. She hates to admit it, but she could use their help right now.

“Are we the only ones in here?” Zoë asks the family. “No.” The huntress peers into the dark, trying to distinguish where the male voice came from. “As far as we know, there are seven of us down here, including the children. But some haven’t responded in a while.” Zoë grinds her teeth, swallowing thickly. Some haven’t responded? She knows what that means. Fuck, she’s too late, isn’t she? “Let me guess; you’re Neil O’Brien?” She folds her fingers around the iron bars and opens her eyes wide, hoping to be able to see some shapes in the pitch dark place. “And the others, Nadia Milton and Cole Richards?” “How do you know that?” Zoë chuckles, finding what she’s about to say rather ironic. “I was looking for you.” “No offence, but good job,” the guy comments. “People are looking for us?!” Zoë hasn’t heard the female voice before, but she knows it’s Nadia. “No, just me,” Zoë corrects, honestly. “Not much hope for us then,” Neil concludes, depressed. “I’ll get us out of here.”

Zoë gets up determined. Her eyes are getting used to the dark, but she still can’t make out faces in the other cells. She takes a bobby pin from her hair, folds it into a lock pick, then begins to work on her escape. “Did you see it?” It’s Neil who asks. The fact that he uses the word ‘it’ indicates that he already realizes that their kidnapper is not human. Zoë decides to tell them the truth. “I fought the bastard,” she corrects, continuing to work concentrated. “You know what it is then?” “Yeah, I know what it is.”

The final pin lines up inside the lock and it springs free. Zoë kicks the iron door open and stumbles out, the slight dizziness catching her by surprise. Thin, fragile beams of moonlight fall through small holes in the ceiling; it looks like the lid of a manhole. Now that her eyes are adjusted to her dark surroundings, she can make out shadows. She’s standing in a small space, cages on either side. She searches the walls, but she can’t see anything that might indicate a staircase or another way out. While she examines the place she woke up in, she answers his question.

“It’s a shapeshifter. A creature that is able to mimic and change into other people, looking exactly like them,” she explains. Nadia whimpers. “This is insane.” “You saw it yourself,” Neil snaps. “Hey, fighting won’t help.” Zoë breaks up the argument before it can even kick off, as she kneels down by the cell across from hers. With the makeshift lockpick, the huntress tries to open the cage which holds the Cliffer family. Lizzy, a girl with messy curls, clamps her tiny hands around the bars while she watches Zoë work. Tears glisten in her eyes, the faint light from above barely catching them. “Are you going to save us?” she whispers. “I’m gonna try my very best, honey,” Zoë returns, smiling softly.

She continues with the task at hand, unlocks the door and moves on to the next cell. While adjusting the bobby pin slightly before testing the spring-loaded pens, it dawns on her what Neil said earlier. “You mentioned there are seven people down here. Who’s the seventh?” “We don’t know. A big guy. He arrived just before you did,” he says.

Flakes of memory fall through the creaks in the roof that is her mind, finally forming a picture of what exactly happened in the hours prior to waking up. She remembers Sam, right before he struck her down. Not the real Sam, of course, but if the shifter took his disguise, then where is the younger Winchester brother? The lock clicks, the barred door opening and freeing the remaining victims from their cages. She turns to Neil. “Where is he?” Zoë asks, sternly. The young guy covered in filth, nods to the side. “In the cell next to yours.”

Without replying, she quickly moves to the cage that accommodates the hunter. Frantically she works the lock. When it busts, Zoë hastens inside and finds Sam on his back, unconscious. She checks his vitals, relieved to feel a steady pulse drum against her index and middle finger. His chest rises under her palm; he’s breathing. When she wipes his hair out of his face, she feels broken skin above his temple; seems like she wasn’t the only one who received a blow in the head. “Sam, can you hear me? Wake up, Sasquatch,” she tries, frustrated. Careful not to shake him or worsen his injuries otherwise, she sits with him, hoping her voice will get through. It takes a while, but eventually he starts to show signs of coming to. “Zoë?” he mumbles, voice raspy. She creates distance by sitting back on her heels. “Yeah, it’s me.” “Did you just call me ‘Sasquatch’?” “Well, you are ridiculously tall,” she scoffs. “Glad I didn’t have to drag your ass out of this place. Could’ve broken a nail.”

The hunter pushes himself up, chuckling at her wit. “Damn, I’m glad to see you.” “Well, don’t be. I’m just as trapped as you are,” she sighs. “You two know each other?” Neil asks from his cell. “Yeah, we’re sort of… colleagues, I guess,” Sam declares, still drowsy. They get on their feet, but the younger Winchester brother has trouble keeping his balance and leans against the steel bars, the huntress stepping in to support him. “Easy. You alright?” Zoë checks. “Yeah, just a headache,” he grunts, trying to chase the black spots from his vision.

“When did that slithering bastard capture you?” she wonders, trying to make sense of the timeline. “I was at Beetle's Bar to back you up, but I guess I got made. It overpowered me right after I parked the car a few blocks away. That's all I remember,” Sam explains. For a second she considers yelling at him for meddling with her case again, but what’s the use? It’s not Sam’s fault he got snatched, the shifter figured it out even before either of them showed up at the bar. She huffs. “Damn, that lizard is sneaky. Where’s Dean?” “At our motel,” Sam admits. “Okay, good. He’s still in town. You’re missing, so he will come and look for you in - what - a few hours, right?” she assumes, hopeful.

Sam steps out into the moonlight. Zoë can see the blood has found a way down the side of his face and turned the collar of his shirt red. She also notices the guilty expression on his face. “Not likely,” he admits. Zoë frowns at the confusing answer, already annoyed. “Why not?” “I was gonna stay out because he had a girl over for the night,” Sam admits. Stunned she stares at him. A girl? She feels the anger building in her chest and takes a moment to collect herself, instead of unleashing her wrath. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” she hisses, keeping her voice down for the sake of the children. “You’re telling me that Dean is fucking some chick while we’re stuck in this dungeon?” Sam looks up at the lid and frowns. “Actually, this doesn’t seem to be a dungeon. I think we’re in the septic tank,” Sam corrects. Zoë throws him a death glare, stepping closer intimidatingly. Now might not be the best time for the brains of the Winchester operation to better her terminology. “Let me rephrase that. You’re telling me that Dean is fucking some chick while we’re stuck in this shithole!?" “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” Sam admits, smiling awkwardly. “Wonderful.”

She walks back and forth between Sam and the bars, trying to come up with a way to get out, until the soggy and squishy sounds under her feet cause her to halt. Disgusted, Zoë looks down at her boots, realizing all this time she has been standing, sitting and laying in-- “- shit.” She retches and coughs; it does explain the smell. “This is disgusting,” she mutters, needing to get out of the cage when she starts to feel sick. “It gets worse,” Sam adds. “When the shifter attacked me, it looked like you. Good chance that thing used the same disguise to ambush Dean.” Zoë turns her head slowly and stares at Sam, her jaw agape and her eyes wide in shock. “Well, there goes my reputation of a good civilian,” she deadpans.

As their problems pile up, the Cliffer family emerges from their cage, afraid like hunted deer. Lizzy, probably not even six years old, steps into the dim light. The poor little girl looks like she’s about to burst into tears, her dress dirty, her big eyes shimmering. Zoë helps out Michelle, who’s weakened by the days of malnutrition. She has a younger boy by her hand, who is crying silently. Concerned, Zoë exchanges a look with Sam. There's empathy in her eyes, her need to care for the victims evident in them; something Sam hasn’t seen before. He understands, though; they need to get these people out fast, they’ve been through way too much. Sam searches his pockets for his phone. “You won’t find it, he took mine as well as everything else I was carrying,” she discourages.

“Zo, the shifter took my form first, then yours, so it copied our memories. It knows Dean and I were staying at the Deep Purple Inn, room number 301, everything,” he recalls. “If that thing went after my brother, disguised as you...” Sam breathes in slowly and exhales; there’s no need to finish the sentence. Good chances are that Dean is in as much trouble as they are.

While crossing her arms in front of her chest, she brainstorms. They need to get in touch with Dean, or with anyone else in the outside world, but how? There is nothing here that can be used to draw attention and increase their chances of being found. Screams will only carry so far in these backlands. The situation is grim. If the shifter manages to trap or kill Dean, it's a possibility no one will access this property in months, maybe even years. A slow death by starvation might be the only fate that lays ahead. She swallows apprehensively; this is not how she planned to go out.

She looks back at the younger Winchester brother, noticing how something inside one of the cells has caught his attention. “What is it?” He nods at the cage and she peers through the bars, her eyes landing on another victim, collapsed against the wall with his eyes closed. Without hesitation Zoë opens the door, rushes inside and kneels down next to the seemingly lifeless body. The doctor she’s supposed to be surfaces, as she checks for vital signs.

“Pulse is low and he's cold to the touch; he's hypothermic.” She turns to Sam. “Give me your jacket.” He quickly takes it off and hands it over, then watches worriedly how she covers his torso with the only warmth they can offer. The victim moans weakly, but doesn’t exactly come to. Sam looks back at the others. “Who’s this guy?” “It’s Cole, he got here first,” Nadia answers. “When was that?” he asks. “I guess about ten days ago, I got here second, two days later,” she tells him, leaning against the doorframe. “Did it feed you or anything?” Sam wonders. “Not exactly, but the place floods when it rains. It’s all we have,” she explains.

Sam shakes his head slowly, not believing what he’s hearing, and looks over at his colleague who is still by Cole’s side. This situation is heading from bad to worse. Cole needs help and he needs it fast, he doesn’t have much time. “Is this Dean you talked about going to save us?” Michelle wonders. Zoë looks over her shoulder at the mother of two, then up to Sam. The huntress can tell he’s conflicted; he wants to stay positive, but he wouldn’t be telling the truth if he promised that his brother will be here soon. So Zoë decides to respond for him. “I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t think so,” Zoë admits. “So what, we’re stuck here? What if that shapeshifter thing comes back?” Neil exclaims. “We’re all together in this,” Sam states, remaining calm. “We will figure something out.” “Can’t we just knock him down when he shows up? Two men like us can handle him, right?” the clueless man proposes.

Zoë scoffs as she gets to her feet. Not amused and feeling excluded, she’s ready to prove to him that women can fight just fine. Sam moves his arm in front of her and answers before she snaps. “No, you’d need a silver bullet to kill him. He doesn’t show pain for anything else,” he explains. “Plus, he is much stronger than us humans. It would be impossible to overpower him.” “We can’t just wait and see what happens! I don’t wanna die!” Neil freaks out. “Could you keep it down? You’re scaring my children.” Michelle pulls Lizzy close, the little girl clinging to her mother’s leg. “No, I can’t keep it down! I’ve been down here for week and I’m starving, and I—” “Hey!” Zoë grabs his collar, stopping his rant. “Shut up!” “Don’t tell me to--” he bites back, but she shushes him and tilts her head to hear better.

Now that it’s quiet in the tank, they can all hear a low rumble of a running engine. It’s origin is still distant, but seems to be steadily approaching. “I know that sound,” Sam comments. Zoë recognizes it, too. She could pick it out of a line up of a thousand motorcycles. “It’s my Dave.” The hunters exchange a look, considering the options in silent communication. The fact that the Harley Davidson just entered the property, doesn’t necessarily mean they are out of the woods. For all they know, the shapeshifter could have shed again, assumingly having copied Dean’s body. “Everyone back in their cell!” Sam orders. “That son of a bitch is riding my bike,” Zoë mutters, receiving a glare from the younger Winchester, since it definitely isn’t the most important matter right now. All close the doors and hide in their cage. The engine above ground is killed, total silence all that is left. Quietly, they listen to the footsteps above them, Sam and Zoë concerned and ready for combat, the rest full of fear. “Sammy?!” It’s Dean. It sounds like Dean, at least. “Sam! Zoë!?” his voice echoes over the terrain. Zoë glances at the young hunter, tensing up. Then she nods. “Dean! We’re down here!” Sam yells at the top of his lungs. Moonlight coming through the small holes above them is blocked from entering the tank. The cover shifts with a screeching sound and Dean’s silhouet appears through the round hole in the ceiling. “I noticed the ‘D’ projected on the beautiful clear sky this evening, thought you might need some help,” he jokes. “You’re not Batman, Dean. Get us out,” Sam responds. “How many of you are down there?” he asks. “Eight.” “Alright, let me get the rope and a flashlight from the trunk. I saw the car parked up front, be right back.” The figure that has such a resemblance to Dean disappears again, leaving a heavy silence. “Follow my lead,” Zoë whispers to Sam. It doesn’t take long for their rescuer - or kidnapper - to return, because a minute later a rope falls down through the sewer drain. He aims a flashlight down the tank and focuses on Zoë’s face for a moment. “Good to see you, too. Awkward, but good,” he admits, that trademark smirk on his lips. “Do I wanna know?” Zoë comments. “Get your ass down and free us already.” He shines the light on the others down the tank. “Don’t worry, people. You’ll be out in no time,” he assures, then lowers himself down into the septic tank.

His feet haven’t even reached the ground yet, before he feels Zoë’s tight headlock around his neck. She pulls him off the rope and throws him on his back, overpowering him in a blink of an eye and landing on top. Sam quickly picks up the torch and shines the bright light in his brother’s eyes. They don’t flash white; Zoë still stares down the pair of emerald green irises, holding his wrists over his head with one hand, pinning him down. It's not enough proof for her yet, because she jerks Dean's pocket knife from his belt and carves the unexposed skin on his forearm until blood becomes visible. He flinches and lets out a gasp. "Ow! You bitch!” he curses, eying her furiously as he pulls his arms free. In response she punches his chest, warningly, an ‘umph!’ escaping Dean’s throat. “I told you not to call me that. I had to be sure,” Zoë counters, not even bothering to apologize.

Stunned, he eyes her while catching his breath, which proves to be difficult, since the huntress has a powerful grip on him with her thighs. “You get a real kick out of torturing me, don't you?” “Don't be such a baby. You're definitely Dean, though,” she huffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest while judging him. “Oh, shut up,” Dean returns, already done with her smart talk, before he redirects his gaze to his brother. “You okay, Sammy?” Sam smiles, deciding not to correct his brother on the nickname for once. “I’m okay. Good to see you made it in one piece.” “Likewise. Now you--” Dean returns his glare to Zoë, who’s still sitting on his stomach, and shoos her. “- get off me. I already had you all over me tonight.” Zoë furrows her brow puzzled, wondering what he means by that, but stands up and allows him to do the same. “You have a phone?” Sam asks. “Yeah, I already called 911,” he informs and turns to the others. “Now, let's get you people out.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eleven here

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unwind-myself · 4 years ago

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@incomprehensiblelentils tagged me and I’m finally doing this! Why not.

Name: B will do.

Fandoms: I grew up on Sailor Moon, and so while I didn’t publish any of it I did write Sailor Moon fic (in the form of scripts for actual movies I had immature plans to film with my friends, somehow? I remember I invented a Sailor Earth and she had purple hair with blue and green streaks, which is the most adolescent thing to write, not that having that hair IRL is adolescent but y’know). I dabbled in cracky Harry Potter fic in junior high, mostly before I hit my Rocky Horror stride. Oh man, was that a time. Then I had a break from fanfic because of some stuff and eased back in with Spring Awakening. Then came Firefly, Dollhouse, Buffy. Game of Thrones. True Blood. And now I’ve landed in the MCU (with tiny forays into the DCEU, but mostly not).

Where You Post: AO3. This blog is for linking and occasionally things like wardrobe reference.

Most Popular One-Shot: my very first MCU piece, but this is summer, takes that title. It’s collegiate Jemma/Darcy fic where they meet during a study abroad and it’s Jemma’s First Time but Darcy is real sweet about it.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: I cowrite with my wife a lot, but taking those pieces out of consideration, oh gosh, it’s my Dany/Doreah fix-it, You Have Shining Eyes. I wish I’d finished that story, because these girls deserved SO MUCH BETTER, but I can’t go back now. I can barely even conceive of updating my GOT modern AU blog fic, that canon burned me so bad. I’ll take this time to tell you how this story was going to end, though: Meereen happens, it’s still crappy, Doreah really doesn’t like Tyrion when he shows up because she’s just like “I know this type,” they go to Westeros, they get up North a little sooner than in canon and find, inexplicably, Shireen, who didn’t die from being burned alive because Baratheons have Targaryen blood and she inherited some of it (this can be supported by her having survived greyscale but what do I know I guess), and so Dany adopts Shireen and anyway yeah Sansa is still the Queen in the North but not because she turned into a misogynist Republican and Dany is the Queen in the South and Doreah and Missandei are given titles because that’s how this society works shrug and there’s a socialist overthrow of the Westerosi economy and also none of the Sand Snakes die.

Favorite Story You’ve Written: I’m always going to say sad is the world when the wives are made to beg, my SHIELD -> Fury Road AU. This really got a lot of my heart. Unfortunately, it’s polyamorous femslash, so it will probably never get the attention I wish it would, but it’s gotten good reviews and I’m passionate about it and it honestly still feels relevant.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: I remember when I was starting my True Blood season 6/7 fix-it, on AO3 collected as curious shapes shift in the dark and referred to in my head as flowercrownverse because putting flower crowns on things is what you do when you make them better, and at first I was very nervous because I’d never undertaken anything of that scale before. By the end of that one there were absolutely no nerves and it was fine.

How You Choose Your Titles: Lyrics, for the most part, but my True Blood fics all just had one-word titles.

Complete: 183 if you only count the ones I’ve written alone. This is mostly because the True Blood series is split into individual installments even though it’s all one continuous story. (This is because I wrote a few one-shots before I knew I’d be rewriting two seasons of television and then retroactively built them back into the plot, and I wanted to be consistent.

Incomplete: 13, which are... mostly GOT and won’t be finished. So it goes.

Do You Outline: Sometimes? When we’re cowriting, I try to do always (otherwise we just get lost on pages and pages of aimless dialogue or something) but when I’m by myself, sometimes I just sort of go. Ironically, some of the ones I’ve had to outline most are the short fics I do for Femslash February collections, just because a lot of those have a lot more worldbuilding than they appear to.

Coming Soon / Not Yet Started: There are a couple more installments of my kinky MCU vampire AU (one that’s Natasha/Wanda/Jemma/Daisy, one that’s kiiind of Hope/Karen/Elektra) that I have drafted. I also have an introspective childhood piece about Helena Bertinelli that I’m working on, because I love her. (Cowriting-wise, we have a lot of things we’re discussing, many of them semi-pornographic in nature, all of them fucking weird.

Do You Accept Prompts: I never have before, but that doesn’t mean I never will.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited To Write: I swear to god one of these days I’m going to continue my Sailor Moon AU, and I’m really fucking excited for season 3 of that. I’m excited for all of it, but season 3 is my favorite and I love its villains (and “villains”) the most.

Tagging is scary.

#tumblrmeme

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squishydoesstuff · 5 years ago

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Alright, surprise, this has been sitting for a few months... whoops. Alrighty, here’s a kinda bad boy Seoho (if you couldn’t already tell, I’m a little biased... I swear I’m actually funny in person)

titled “This is going to kill my heart” in my drafts.

tags: @moonchild-saturn

word count: 2853

Warnings: Mentions of violence, someone gets punched and then kicked, mostly fluff, kinda bad boy au???

Esperanza woke to the sound of her alarm going off on her nightstand. How unlucky, I wasn’t miraculously transported to another dimension. Sighing heavily, she reached over and shut the alarm off. She swung her legs off the bed with a long groan. “Why did I have to take an early shift? Why can’t I just say ‘no’ for once in my life?” As much as she may have loved working at the shelter, the early mornings were not always great.

Crossing the room, she pulled an outfit from her closet and started her daily routine. Checking her appearance, Esperanza fixed her flyaway hair. I don’t exactly want to have a rat’s nest for hair. Once satisfied, she returned to her bedroom. God, this is a mess, I’m going to need to clean later. Grabbing her backpack off the floor, she checked inside. Everything was still there, ready to go. Esperanza pulled her shoes on and grabbed her phone off the charger. Looking down, she noticed a text from her friend, Luna.

“Are you working today?” it read.

“Yeah, early shift.” Esperanza quickly replied before zipping her phone away. Leaving her apartment, she locked the door behind her. Starting her trek to the shelter, Esperanza pulled out her headphones. She really wasn’t looking forward to this morning. I swear if Ryan shows up today, I might actually tear my hair out.

Sighing softly, Esperanza stepped out on the sidewalk. The sun was barely over the horizon. She paused momentarily to watch and felt her mind calm. Continuing forward, she reached the shelter within minutes. Pulling her keys out, she unlocked the door. Stepping inside she closed the door behind her and flipped on the lobby lights. “Cindy, I’m here.”

An older woman called from the back, “Esperanza, I’m in the back.” Setting her bag down at the reception desk, Esperanza walked to the back. Opening the doors, she stepped into the kennel room. Almost immediately, she felt herself begin to sneeze. The ironic part of her working at an animal shelter, Esperanza was pretty allergic to cats. Not bad enough to be a real concern but she always sneezed around them. Cindy turned to the young woman as she entered, “we had a cat get picked up yesterday so I asked them to bring them here. I already put a file on your desk for him.” Stroking behind the cat’s ears, the older woman looked fondly at the small cat in her arms, “I think we should name this one Mochi. He’s very affectionate for being a stray.”

Esperanza nodded. “I’ll start putting-” she sneezed into her jacket. “Sorry, I’ll start putting his information into the system.” Opening the door, Esperanza exited quickly, rushing to find a tissue.

Arriving back at the reception desk, she pulled a tissue out before looking up. Are you kidding me? Fan-freaking-tastic. Coming down the sidewalk was the human incarnate of a headache to Esperanza, Ryan. Esperanza groaned as he pushed the shelter door open, before quickly covering it up as her blowing her nose. “Ryan, what a pleasant surprise.”

The male smirked at the woman as she moved to sit down. “It always is when I see you here. Best way to start the day.”

Esperanza rolled her eyes, “Ryan, we both know I work here, it’s not a surprise to see me here in the mornings.” Pulling the files over, she turned to the computer at her desk. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

“Hey, you working at an animal shelter is bad for business. You’re cuter than any puppy here, I want to take you home instead.” Esperanza froze slightly, shifting uncomfortably. Leaning over the counter, Ryan grinned at the girl, and not in a pleasant way. “You know,” Ryan began, “you never gave me an answer about me taking you on a date.” Just my luck, he doesn’t know when to stop. “And I think I see a blush, so you obviously like me.”

“Actually, I think her blushing is because she is uncomfortable. That is what’s obvious here.” A new voice spoke from the corner of the lobby. Esperanza looked up to see a man she didn’t recognize cross over to her and Ryan. Physically, he looked intimidating. He was taller than Ryan and the cut across his cheek didn’t exactly make him look like the most gentle person. “I suggest you leave the poor girl alone. Forcing her to interact with you makes you look desperate.”

Ryan stood there, mouth agape at the male who had seemed to challenge him. “Who do you think you are to tell me to leave her alone? You certainly aren’t her boyfriend, she would never go for someone like you,” Ryan snarled.

“My name is Seoho, and I am actually her boyfriend. What’s your name? Just so I know who’s ass I’m going to kick for tormenting my girlfriend. And probably dozens of other women.” Realizing this was a fight he wouldn’t win, Ryan spun and turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Esperanza spoke softly, “Seoho, right?” The man in front of her jumped at Esperanza speaking suddenly.

“Ah, yeah.” Seoho turned. “Does he come in here often,” he asked, pointing over his shoulder.

“Seems like almost every day I’m here, he somehow shows up. I swear he just watched the entrance to see when I come in.”

“What’s your name, I haven’t seen you here before?” Esperanza looked up.

“Esperanza,” she smiled. “Wait, what do you mean by you haven’t seen me here before?”

“I come in here every weekend to check on some of the dogs here. I would consider adopting but I don’t think I could afford that. Is Cindy here?”

“Yeah, I can go get her, she’s in the back.” Esperanza quickly stood up and ran to the back. Jesus, he is terrifying. And also incredibly attractive. Esperanza pinched her cheek with a squeak at her last thought. Stop, you don’t even know him! Knocking, Esperanza opened the kennel door a crack, “Cindy, there’s a ‘Seoho’ here. He asked if you were here?”

The older woman rushed to the door, “Tell him to come on back! I’ve already got Otis out for him.”

Esperanza stood shocked for a second, it was clear that Cindy was happy Seoho was here. Are we talking about the same Seoho here? Returning to the lobby, Esperanza spotted Seoho in the same place as when she left. Clearing her throat, she spoke as she sat back down, “Cindy said you can go back. She has Otis out for you.” The black-haired male thanked her quickly before leaving her alone.

She didn’t see him again before she clocked out.

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Arriving home after her shift, Esperanza threw her shoes off at the door before dropping onto her couch. Pulling out her phone, she opened her messages. Luna is going to want to hear about this.

“I just got home. You’ll never guess who showed up today (that was sarcastic).” Esperanza hit send as she moved to get a water from her kitchen. Her phone dinged as she sat back down.

“Let me guess, Ryan?”

“Yeah, but there was this new guy as well. He stood up to Ryan when he started the usual flirting. I had never seen him at the shelter but it seems like Cindy knows him pretty well.”

“What’s his name? Wait, even better, was he cute?”

“His name was Seoho. I don’t know how to describe him really. He seemed kind of… like, bad boy. But not like the exaggerated type that is actually bad.”

“Last name?”

“Don’t know. Please don’t tell me you’re going to try to find his social media.”

“...not at all. But seriously, I want to see what this guy looks like.”

“Maybe someday. Want to meet up this weekend?”

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Arriving at the restaurant, Esperanza looked for her friend outside. Spotting her, the smaller woman waved as she walked up. “How was your week?”

Luna shrugged as they walked into the restaurant. “Same as always. Work is boring. What about you? Have you seen Ryan, or that Seoho guy again?”

Esperanza laughed at her friend’s question. “I haven’t seen Ryan since the incident, by the way, that’s what I’m calling it now. Seoho’s come in a few times. He’s nice, but still kinda scares me.”

“Or maybe you’re scared that you’re starting to like him,” Luna teased, drawing out the last words. Esperanza shook her head at Luna’s comment.

“Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.” The two sat down and continued talking. The evening was peaceful and it was clear the two were having fun.

Well that is, until they weren’t.

“Well well well, if it isn’t my favorite shelter girl. Where’s your boyfriend this time?” It was Ryan. How the hell does he constantly find me? Esperanza looked desperately at Luna.

“You’re Ryan, right? Esperanza’s told me a lot about you. Especially that you don’t know what boundaries are.” Esperanza placed enough cash on the table for the check and tip, they were getting ready to leave anyway, might as well hurry it up.

“Sorry, but we were just leaving.” Turning, Esperanza grabbed Luna’s arm. Gently tugging, Esperanza pulled her friend away from her tormentor. “Let’s not start a fight in a restaurant please.” The duo walked out, unaware of the male scurrying to follow after them.

Out on the sidewalk, the two paused. “Thanks for helping me out back there, he doesn’t really know when to stop.”

Luna shrugged, “No problem,” and they continued walking.

Esperanza felt a hand yank her wrist and she stopped to pull her hand out of the grasp of whoever grabbed her. Ryan.

“Please, just leave us alone tonight.” Esperanza pleaded to the man holding her.

“Leave you alone?” Ryan laughed, “don’t be ridiculous. You still haven’t answered me.” The male leaned forward, “Eventually, I’m going to lose my patience for asking nicely.” Esperanza leaned back away from the male, turning her face away from him.

Suddenly, Luna spoke up from her side. “Alright, that’s enough! Her answer is no, now leave her the fuck alone.” Ryan looked at Luna before his face fell into a frown. Standing back up, he looked Luna over up and down.

“So not only do you have your boyfriend mouthing off to me, your friend does too? You should learn to control them.” Luna’s temper snapped at his remark and she swung her fist hard, directly into his nose. Dropping Esperanza’s wrist, Ryan grabbed his nose with a groan. Glaring up at Luna through his hands, he took a step toward her.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” A low voice came from behind Luna. Taking the opportunity from the distraction, Esperanza shuffled away from Ryan before she glanced around her friend to see two men approaching them. The slightly shorter one looked familiar but Esperanza couldn’t quite place why.

That is until she saw his face. Looks like that someday Luna would meet Seoho is a lot closer than I thought. Recognition crossed Seoho’s face once he saw Esperanza’s face. Catching his eye, she quickly ducked her head to avoid his gaze.

Looking back at her friend, Esperanza realized Luna was still glaring harshly at Ryan. “Luna, I think that’s enough.”

“No, this asshole thinks it’s okay to harass you, and then says you should control me because I stand up for you. That’s not right.”

Realizing exactly what the situation was now, Seoho quickly stepped forward. Glancing at Esperanza, he whispered to her. “How is it I always somehow catch you in these situations?”

Turning over his shoulder, Seoho nodded his head at his friend pointing towards Luna. “Wow, I thought I made it clear last time that if I saw you harassing anyone, I would kick your ass.”

As Seoho spoke, the other dark haired male stepped forward before gently placing a hand on Luna’s shoulder. “I suggest you let Seoho handle this.”

Luna stepped back before whirling to the male next to her. “Wait, that’s Seoho?!” When the man next to her nodded, Luna turned to her friend, whispering viciously. “This is Seoho? This is the guy you’ve been seeing at the shelter?! You said he seemed like a bad boy, you didn’t mention he was cute! Or that he had friends that are hot!”

The smaller woman merely blushed at her friend’s comment as she watched Seoho tower over Ryan. “This is the last time I will say this before I make you. Leave. Her. Alone.”

Esperanza gasped as Ryan threw a punch toward Seoho. However, the taller man easily dodged it and hit Ryan across the face. “Alright, looks like I’ll have to make you.”

Seoho rolled his shoulders back before launching a kick into Ryan’s side, knocking him to the ground. “Stay away from Esperanza or any other woman until you learn how to be a decent human being.”

Turning around, he rejoined the trio who stood watching. Walking up to Luna, he held out his hand. “I don’t believe we have met before. I’m Seoho and my friend is Gunhak.”

“Luna. I’m Esperanza’s best friend.” Placing her hand in Seoho’s she shook it gently before dropping her hand back to her side. “I’ve heard some things about you. You visit the shelter pretty often it seems.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but it’s getting late and we were on our way home. If you don’t mind, can we continue?” Esperanza uttered shyly.

“Ah, sure.” Seoho paused before looking at his friend, “Actually how about we walk you home? Make sure nothing else happens?”

“Okay!” Luna rushes before her friend could object. “Some company would be nice, come on.” The four of them walked down the sidewalk in relative silence.

Eventually reaching an intersection, the two women stopped. “This is where we go different directions. You guys can head on home now if you’d like. It’s not super far from here for either of us to get home.” Esperanza rambled as the two men looked at each other before shaking their heads.

“No, we can keep going. Seoho, you go with Esperanza, I’ll go with Luna. My place is this direction anyway.”

No it’s not, Seoho thought to himself, it’s the complete opposite direction. Gunhak caught his eye with a warning glance before he could say anything. Oh wait, he wants to walk with her. Seoho nodded in agreement with his friend, mouthing “get to know her. She’s your type”

The two of them watched as Esperanza and Luna said goodbye.

Esperanza nodded her head towards a turn off the sidewalk, “my apartment is this way.” Silently she led the way for a while before Seoho decided to speak up.

“I have a question for you.” When Esperanza nodded, he continued. “Why do you always seem so scared—or shy—around me?” The question made Esperanza freeze and she found herself almost colliding with Seoho’s chest.

Face flushing, the young woman tried to force a response out but no words came. She sighed softly before glancing at the ground. “Because I think I like you, and that terrifies me.” When Seoho didn’t respond, Esperanza looked up at his face to find a shocked expression. Shaking her head, she began to walk quickly. “Actually, let’s just forget I said anything.”

Seoho reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. “Wait,” he murmured, his tone soft. Pulling Esperanza back toward him, he smiled fondly down at her. “Why would I want to forget the girl I like telling me she likes me back?” Blushing hard, Esperanza turned and hid her face in her hands. Seoho slowly pulled her hands away from her face, taking them in one of his hands. With his free hand, Seoho gently brushed Esperanza’s hair out of her face, placing his hand on her cheek. He leaned forward, searching Esperanza’s face for any hesitation before kissing her. Pulling away after a moment, Seoho gazed down at Esperanza’s face before pulling her completely into his chest. Silence fell over the two for a minute before Seoho decided to break the quiet around them.

“Does this mean I can now officially be your boyfriend instead of being your pretend boyfriend?” This pulled a giggle from Esperanza as she slowly pulled herself away.

“Yes, you are now officially my boyfriend.” Intertwining her fingers with Seoho’s, she tugged him forward. “Come on, you’re supposed to be walking me home.”

Seoho whined softly at Esperanza’s comment, “Well, now I don’t want to walk you home because that means I have to say goodbye.” Esperanza turned to see him pouting as they walked.

“I have to go home at some point, and I’d prefer not to walk alone.” Sighing, the black-haired male tightened his grip in Esperanza’s hand before nodding. Looking to the young woman at his side, he saw her glancing up to the sky. “I miss being able to see the stars. You can't see them very well from the city.” The two continued to walk side by side, her looking up at the stars in the sky while he looked at the stars in her eyes

#seoho oneus #seoho #squishywrites #I didn't take the name out this time #again #please offer feedback on what you guys prefer

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makeste · 6 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 227: Basically Just Me Saying “Holy Shit” a Bunch

Previously on BnHA: We went on a semi-enlightening romp into Toga’s past. Basically she was an adorable child who just so happened to have a taste for blood. And whoever’s job is was to explain to her, “hey Toga, I know you like blood, but other people like being alive, so, you know. Let’s explore some other options for you,” they basically dropped the ball there. So after she murdered her hapless Deku-looking classmate in middle school, she went on the run, and we basically know the rest. Back in the present, Toga had just been blown up from the inside out as you may recall, so she spent most of the chapter kind of out of it. At one point Kizuki even started talking about her like she was already dead, reassuring her that she’d become a martyr for the Army’s cause (which, no thanks). But then Toga managed to stumble to her feet and transform into Ochako as she tried to flee. It was revealed that while transformed, she can use the quirk of whoever she’s turned into, and she proceeded to demonstrate this by floating Kizuki (and half her redshirt goons) a hundred feet into the air before dropping her back down to the pavement. Yeah. So I’m pretty sure she’s dead now. Ah well.

Today on BnHA: Toga passes out in a shed after a job well done. We learn that the MLA is recording all of the fighting, most likely for propaganda purposes because as we have previously established they’re a bunch of dicks. Hanabata confirms that Kizuki is dead and gets the Army all fired up. They charge at Tomura, who is really fucking sleep-deprived you guys, and as he stands there blinking at them he has another flashback. Turns out the little girl from the previous flashback was his sister, and back when they were cute lil munchkins and she was still alive (sob), she showed him a picture of Nana and told him that their grandma was a hero. Tomura doesn’t remember this clearly, but he remembers the accompanying emotions, which is enough to get me hyped out of my mind fyi. Back in the present, Tomura disintegrates I’m-gonna-go-with-about-200 Army henchpeople basically instantaneously without even touching some of them, which, oh shit. And then Dabi is all “oh cool I want to do some mass murder too” but before he can let loose, some dude with fucking ice powers shows up to challenge him. I guess this means we’re never going to get Touya VS Shouto, or if we do it’s going to be very repetitive. But it’s not like I’m complaining either way. Here’s hoping the villain flashback trend continues next week because omfg.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter like an hour ago lol. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity, but aside from that this is as close to a live liveblog as I’m going to get. It took two-thirds of a year, but these recaps are finally caught up.)

this is so exciting guys. I mean, for me the reading process is basically the same, but the posting process is going to be a new one since I’ll be trying to get this up the same day once I’ve read it! so you can expect many exciting errors and brain farts! prepare for the full brunt of my unpolished rough draft thoughts!

so anyway, here’s Toga

lol so much to analyze here. real quick:

“sleepy.” if that isn’t the most relatable chapter title in the history of time, though

loving the “my villain academia” logo in the background! as far as I’m concerned that’s the official title of this arc

“the conclusion of the battles” y’all I read this and I was like “what?! already!?!” but then I realized they’re talking about volume 23, which features the conclusion of the joint training battle arc. so who knows how many more villain battlin’ chapters we’ve still got ahead. I have a feeling we’re already winding down, though

note how all of the stuffed animals are stabbed. ah this girl

it’s 2214, who the fuck still uses polaroid cameras. that would be like someone in our time using a [googles inventions from 200 years ago] modern suspension bridge. ...wait

anyway you guys maybe I should start reading the actual chapter already if I want any hope of actually getting this posted before fucking midnight though

oh hey, so Toga is dying in a shed you guys. fun

I’m not really thrilled about this! to be honest! I mean for fuck’s sake she’s only 17. she was blown up from the inside out. and although the consequences initially seemed to have possibly been handwaved, it appears that no one can escape BnHA’s realistic injury clause for long! so. yeah

I get why she hid, because it’s not like the others are just gonna drop everything to come help her (although Twice, though...), and there are enemies everywhere so this is probably safer. but it also means that if she passes out here there’s a good chance she’s not going to wake up again! and that is bad! that is very much not good

what she really needs to do is call Ujiko! hitch a ride out of there while you still can! he is a doctor, right? even if it is the questionable mad scientist type! worst case, you end up as a Noumu. actually, wait a sec, maybe we should think this through

and yet the fact that she’s still laughing, though. just. goddammit. I love her so much. I swear to god Toga if you fucking die...!!

so now she’s curling up in the fetal position and thinking “once again I’ve gotten closer to you”

yeah, Deku really does do this every other week. or he did for a little while at least sob

and now we are cutting to ReDestro who for some reason is monologuing about Toga!

oh right, because he had the cameras and shit set up to livestream that shit

okay but is it just me or is he not looking at any cameras. he’s just enjoying the view from his little observation tower same as before. does his quirk allow him to see everywhere at once or what

is it bad that I barely even paid attention to the actual content of his ramblings lol. it’s just the same old same old. blah blah society rejects anyone who’s different, it’s so unfair, blah blah

it’s not a bad point, mind you; it’s just that RD and his army are completely full of shit and acting like they’re so much better even though they’re just a bunch of mur-diddly-urderers. it’s like how PETA acts like they’re champions of animal rights when really they mostly just kill shelter animals, insult Steve Irwin, and claim that milk causes autism. but I digress sob

oh shit I forgot about this dude

here I was thinking there was only the one other miniboss to go before the big bad. silly me. how could I have forgotten that two page spread and our friend here with the Gorillaz mouth and the Beatles haircut

wow are you serious?

Giran sitting there with one skeptical eyebrow raised thinking about how these guys threatened to kill him in order to lure his friends out so that they could, you guessed it, kill them!

and also, way to completely disregard the dozens of other minions who already bit the dust before Kizuki. like, your entire town is basically doomed, guy. but sure let’s cry for the one dead villain who actually had a name though

holy shit you guys

are you telling me that’s why you were recording the whole thing? is that why you invited the League here in the first place?? for the fucking publicity? kill the bad guys and earn the public’s good will? did I miss that part of the planning sesh, or was this objective already painfully obvious and I somehow either missed it or forgot all about it?

either way it’s amazing how these guys become bigger assholes with each progressive chapter

oh now he’s explaining it all on the next page lol. so I guess I didn’t miss the memo, good

okay but first he’s getting real physical with my boy Giran here though

okay first of all, all he did was say “footage...?” like wth was so fucking impolite about that. and second, why do I get the feeling that there’s probably a fair percentage of people who read this chapter and got to this panel and now suddenly ship it sob

I mean, he just got so up close and personal though. all up in his face. this guy has such a weird energy and it’s really creeping me out now ngl

anyway so here we go with the explanations

holy shit you guyssssssssss

when did Giran get so fucking hot?? and is he single?! asking for a friend???!

anyway so now RD is wiping away his crocodile tears and says Giran is lacking in imagination

oh hey

what an interesting segue back to Tomura!

wow, Spinner’s asking how much longer until Big G wakes up, and Compress says one hour and twenty minutes. so that means they’ve already been at it for like an hour and fifteen minutes! minus however much time it took to warp over and then follow Back-Stab n’ Go out to the center of town for the ambush. even if that took a whole half hour they’ve still been fighting for a long time! but I guess they’re more than used to that by this point, thank you so much Ujiko and your six weeks of brutal endurance training

Spinner’s all “no matter how many we defeat, they just keep on coming!” and I know, dude, it’s almost like there’s over one hundred thousand of them or something dfskdj

although to be fair, probably not every last one of them is actually there. can you imagine. it might take a whole nother hour to beat them all

now Hanabata is driving in on the back of an election van. because apparently he just fucked right off in the middle of his fight with the League, and then came back. with a van

so he’s all “EVERYONE I HAVE SOME DEEPLY SADDENING NEWS” and oh my gosh what is it

yeah dude we already been knew. RIP and all that

so the crowd is all distressed and asking what the Supreme Leader said

really?? that’s what they call him?? yeah you guys aren’t evil at all

and Hana quotes, “‘do not let her sacrifice be in vain’“

sorry bruh. but. it’s gonna be in vain. hate to break it to you

right??

GASP

TWICE STOP BEING AWED AT HANABATA’S INFLUENTIAL AURA AND START PAYING ATTENTION TO THE DUDE WHO’S SNEAKING UP BEHIND YOU AND TRYING TO SNATCH YOUR MASK OFF

anyway so in the meantime this is happening

maybe there are 100k of them. seems like there’s a lot. I do like that from this angle it appears that Tomura and the others have holed up in a relatively narrow alley, thus creating a choke point and limiting the number of enemies who can attack them all at once. although this panel does make it look like there’s just a big ol’ wave of bad guys surfing their way towards them though, so it remains to be seen how effective this strategy will actually be lol

eh?

yeah no shit boy you’ve been fighting Daruk from BotW for the last month and a half

anyway so apparently he’s feeling ~weird~ though

I shit you not guys, my sister was hospitalized a couple months back (she’s fine now) because she started hallucinating after a three-day bout of insomnia. shit is no joke. don’t be like Tomura. go to bed and don’t stay up all night fighting villains

-- OH SHIT!?!

ASDFALSDFHLKSDHLFKJHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IT’S A LITTLE GIRL!! AND SHE’ S OPENING A SECRET DRAWER!!

SHE’S ALL “IT’S OUR LITTLE SECRET!” OH MY GOD

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SWEET JESUS MARY JOSEPH!? HORIKOSHI DO YOU FUCKING READ THE THEORY POSTS ON TUMBLR JUST SO YOU CAN IMMEDIATELY SHIT ON THEM TWO DAYS AFTER?? HOW THE FUCK

AND IS NANA’S SON WEARING DEKU SHOES?? OH MY GOD PLEASE

AND THIS MEANS THE LITTLE GIRL IS ACTUALLY TENKO’S SISTER SOBBBBBBBBB NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

BUT ON THE PLUS SIDE THIS MAKES TOMURA MUCH MORE LIKELY TO GO APESHIT ON AFO’S ASS IF HE COMES TO REALIZE THAT AFO INDIRECTLY MURDERED HIS SISTER OH SHIT

BUT SHIT YOU GUYS, SHE’S SO CUTE AND SHE’S FUCKING DEAD NOW SOB THAT’S SO FUCKING HORRIBLE I MEAN IT I’M REALLY UPSET THOUGH

BUT LET’S CONTINUE WITH THE FLASHBACK TO SEE IF HORIKOSHI WANTS TO TOY WITH MY EMOTIONS ANYMORE!!

NANA DIDN’T DO A GOOD ENOUGH JOB ERASING ALL TRACES OF HER CONNECTION TO HER CHILD AND IT EVENTUALLY RESULTED IN HIS DEATH OH SHIT. I’M SERIOUSLY SO UPSET ABOUT THIS??

NOTE HOW BABY TENKO’S FACE IS PURPOSELY BLACKED OUT EVEN THOUGH (A) HIS SISTER’S IS NOT, AND (B) WE SHOULD, IN THEORY, ALREADY KNOW WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE! IT’S BECAUSE HE DOESN’T HAVE THE SCARS OR THE WHITE HAIR YET CUZ AFO HASN’T WIPED HIS MEMORIES. [nods sagely as though I have any sort of proof of this whatsoever and it’s not all just wild speculation and conjecture]

HANAAAAAAAA oh shit I better come up with another nickname for Hanabata then. looks like it’s Back To The Full Name for you mister

!!?!?!?

okay you guys I think this is intentional misdirection. we’re meant to believe that Tenko’s dad was perhaps abusive and that his behavior toward his son ultimately triggered the awakening of his quirk and led to all of the subsequent Horrible Things happening

but I think what it actually is is that Tenko’s dad probably resents Nana for giving him up. and maybe Tenko wanted to know more about her and maybe he got in trouble for it? because now Hana is showing him the picture, and then talking about this mysterious conversation with their dad and saying she’s on Tenko’s side. so that’s my bet

anyway! but this means Tomura might not need as much convincing as I previously speculated! I figured he probably wouldn’t know much, if anything, about his grandma even if he did somehow get his memories back, because he was only four when all that shit went down, and Nana had parted ways with Tomura’s dad years ago. but if he actually did know a bit about her and even possibly felt a connection with her, as this flashback suggests, that could go a long way towards fueling his eventual breakaway from AFO’s side once All Might is able to explain the truth

ahhhhh you guys this is exciting I’m excited. though also still very sad though because wtf seriously

so Tomura’s tiredly thinking that the least his stupid memories could do is show him the whole picture instead of these fragments. “it’s like a broken tape recording or something”

HOLY SHIT

...I have no words. holy shit

anyone else getting flashbacks to the Highway to Hell though? what is it with Tomura and periodically pulling off the most badass stunts in the whole fucking manga. all because he didn’t get his nap dsflkjlk

ReDestro look at this loss of life. are you crying again. no, I can’t imagine that you are. you ass

you guys are probably getting tired of me just going “holy shit” over and over, but

hooooooooooooly shit

guys, if Tomura can dust people without even touching them he might as well just change his name to fucking Thanos and we’d better start praying this kid gets redeemed and soon

so now there’s a panel of Tomura being all drooly, and honestly he looks like he’s about to pass out. not sure if this is intended to be a glam shot or what lol

ohhhhSHIT

YESSSSSSSSSSS DABI. DRACARYS

!LKJDSLFKJLSDKJF!!

OH SHIT YOU GUYS, IT LOOKS LIKE WE’RE ABOUT TO GET ALL A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE UP IN THIS BITCH

who is this weird little black mage. I’ll tell you one thing, he’s the only guy I’ve seen so far who’s actually dressed appropriately for fucking December weather, though, so good on him

will he defeat our boy Touya (spoilers, he won’t)? will Touya have some flashbacks of his own (TOUYA PLEASE), since that seems to be what all the cool kids are doing these days? will I lose my fucking shit all over again next week? stay tuned! but yes I absolutely will, oh jesus this is awesome

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 227 #toga himiko #giran #shigaraki tomura #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #are there any theories about tenko's sister possibly still being alive?#please you guys I need there to be theories where she lived #justice for the shimura sibs #brb going to pore through the entire manga looking for clues about who she might be if so #she's probably a couple years older than him #but we don't know her quirk #she could be anyone dammit #shimura hana please show yourself please I need this

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jujywrites · 5 years ago

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WIP Challenge

I got tagged by @kikithedeceiver to do this!

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Here’s the thing. I don’t have many separate WIP files; most of them are in one huge doc. and most of the separate wip files are... pretty dead? but ok whatevs. under a read more since it’s long...... and my ego won’t let me skip snippets hjkhkhk thanks for the idea Kiki

From my main miscellaneous folder:

50 Grades of Steele. 1 and a half chaps of a role-flipped 50 Shades of Grey rewrite (i haven’t read the books so I extra don’t care about the characters lol). why do i still have it i’ve lost interest.... *side eyes her entire wip ecosystem* ...Then I see my interview subject, seated at her desk.

"Mr. Grey. I'm pleased to meet you."

And I stop breathing. [end CH1]

[open CH2) I forgot to mention something: I exaggerate occasionally. But I'm not now. I literally stop breathing for a few seconds. A thousand thoughts are racing through my mind, which doesn't help my chest stop seizing, but the main problem here is that Anastasia Steele is quite possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Fanfic idea masterlist. my most active file and where I keep most of my WIPS, unless they get too “large”. Organized by fandom. lotta stuff i keep passing by & may as well be dead but don’t wanna delete. here’s a zero-draft snippet of probably the next chapter of my G-rated yukyoru fic collection

He grabbed a pillow and placed it to his chest, grabbed her arm, and yanked her to him, praying his idea would work.

Seconds passed and he didn't transform. He put his arms around her gingerly. Should he try to immobilize her or would that make it worse?

She made the decision for him. "Mom," she sobbed, clutching him with an iron grip. "N-Need to help...!"

His stomach dropped to his shoes.

Thudding footsteps announced Yuki's arrival. "What's wrong?! Honda-san--"

He didn't say "What did you do?" The thought raced by and Kyo said, "Grab a pillow and help me!"

As Yuki positioned the pillow and himself without having to ask, Kyo said, "She won't wake up. I don't know what to do!"

"Night terror," Yuki said tightly. He was too close but it almost didn't matter. "Not much you can do besides wait."

MayxWard BDSM fic agents of SHIELD. mix of notes and actual writing. kind of a half AU. Melinda climbed into the driver's side and buckled in, then started up the car. "If you've not ridden on the left before you might have motion sickness. It's normal. Just close your eyes until—" She paused as she looked at him; his hands shook so much he couldn't manage the seatbelt. "Here, let me."

"Thanks," he muttered with a sigh, looking rueful.

Modern AU Zelink. What it says on the tin~ Teenage-ish Zelink, with a mash of supporting characters from other games. another mix of notes and fic. Link wasn't sleeping tonight. Tonight was the night he'd been planning for and awaiting for weeks. He was going on a quest: the quest to meet Princess Zelda.

She wasn't really a princess, of course. That was just her nickname. Zelda Nohansen was Hyrule's sweetheart, the most sought-after young actress in the movie business. And Link had fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her, two years ago in a tiny theater in Kakariko.

PMMMfic homumado. Madoka Magica. AU, been around since about an hour after I finished the series (5 years yikes, still gotta watch Rebellion). Homura's time power still somewhat involved, but Mami's an adult, everyone's at a boarding school (I think?) where ~things aren't as they first seem~ and Madoka has mysterious powers and night terrors. just notes at the moment.

SoubixHitomi. Loveless. 3 unfinished/dead first-person Shinonome-senseixSoubi snippets, all of ‘em spicy.

yvy abo. Yuri On Ice. Yuri (Katsuki!!)/Victor/Yuko(!!?!), my attempt at. well. omegaverse(!!!!!!!). orignally started as part of a “bad YOI fic” bigbang and now I’m taking it seriously dgdgfg. Alpha Yuko. “Please, please stop,” she whispered, like saying it aloud would make any difference. But the pressure in her head kept building. Her limbs had begun to itch restlessly.

And Victor wouldn’t let go of her hand.

With the last scrap of her control, she straddled him quickly and kissed him awake.

Even in half-sleep he arched to meet her, and when he opened his eyes sapphire blue had already turned stormy with lust.

yvy canonfuturefic. Yuko-focused following of canon, or: how canon can I keep YOI while still rareship OT3ing it. She and Yuri fall in and out of love, in between falling for Victor. Victuri is still my life I swear

“You have got to watch this,” she tells Yuri. She watches Yuri’s face instead of the video, having seen it at least forty times by now.

Yuri’s eyes transform into beacons of awe, and Yuko swallows around her rapid heartbeat, breaths coming too short. She sees everything she’s feeling and more on his face. She remembers that she loves him, that he’s real and here and more important than the beautiful boy on her phone who’s trying to pull her under to a scary new world.

ZnT ot3 bdsm AU. Zankyou no Terror, 9/12/Lisa. mix of notes and fic, not just PWP. in heavy need of editing bc a lot was inspired by a non-spicy book.

“But it’s not just me. It’s everyone. You need everyone because you have no idea how to need yourself. Or even how to be yourself.”

“You’re wrong.” The force and volume of her voice shocked her and pushed her onward. “You and Touji. I don’t need anyone except you and Touji! Because you both taught me how to be myself-- no, how to find that on my own. I know exactly who I am, and that me isn’t complete without both of you!” She could feel the tears streaming down her face, yet somehow her voice didn’t waver. She felt so full of conviction she could burst into flames. “Don’t you understand, Arata? We’re all meant to be together.”

From my SnK folder:

Cave of the Crystal Maiden (working title). Aruani. Modern AU. MMORPG shenanigans with a dollop of magical realism/supernatural. Just notes. @portraitofa-girl suggested “meeting online” and it’s been there literally for years oh lord im sorry. no fic yet, just notes.

Falling Anthem (working title) Modern AU Levihan, art student Hange and young professor Levi. just notes. fic one in a planned series. also has been years ;_;

Raindrops and Soft Steps. Jearmin. unsurprisingly, modern AU. One morning, when Jean looks out of his bedroom window, he sees a boy dancing across the street. In the street, to be exact. There wouldn't be anything unusual about that, Jean supposes, except it's raining cats and dogs outside.

In my IAMXfic folder (fff i almost skipped this):

2ndPOVCalberto (DO NOT CORRUPT WITH HET) ChrisxAlberto? not much to say?? yes i know they’re real people??? which applies to everything after this oh my god *crawls under desk* Of course she knows; she is annoyingly perceptive when it comes to romance. The only thing preventing you from asking her (like a fucking lovestruck teenager) if Alberto likes you back is emptying that beer bottle. By then the only thing on your mind is ordering another.

CalbertImmi. i can’t even keep my poly shit outta RPF ahaha omhg Imogen has a conversation with her lover's lover. (AlbertImmi, sequel to...) Imogen finds herself in an unenviable position. (emerging CalbertImmi)

Alternate summaries (CC POV, first fic?): Chris loves two people. He doesn't want to choose. Chris has fallen in love a few times in his life. But he's never fallen for two people at once. (Chris also isn't good at choosing.)

ChrisxJ. several self-insert fics bc CC is just that powerful, apparently. haven’t looked at the file in a long time,,,,,

He started calling people to the stage with him, and one by one, my row emptied.

"Come on, yeah, come on," he was saying, waving his hand in an inviting gesture and grinning like a little kid. "Hey, you want to?" I did a double take.

"Me?" I mouthed, pointing at myself just to be sure. He nodded, smiling wider.

So it was that I walked unsteadily down the ramp and waited in line, feeling like I didn’t belong there. Soon I was next in line. What would I say? What would I do? I was sure if I opened my mouth I’d either burst into tears or faint.

Genderswapped IAMX sci-fi. The sci-fi was inspired by a word prompt, genderswapping by my own brain. (play spot the Immi lmao) Across the aisle, Sam rolled his eyes. “Leave Chris alone; she’s nervous.”

“And put on your own seatbelt, Johann,” shouted Jess, two seats back and in Sam’s aisle.

Patrick turned to look at Chris. “Subspace travel is a bitch,” he said simply, and turned back to his book.

“Oh, I feel much less nervous now,” Chris said with a sardonic grin. “How do you know that, anyway?”

"I'm not exactly what I seem to be." He didn’t look up.

Chriimmi (While I Was Gone inspired). Chris/Imogen, inspired by scenes from Sue Miller’s While I Was Gone.

"You really ought not to do that, you know," he said softly.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me."

My eyes slid from his face. "I didn't mean to. It just... happened."

"Mm." I glanced back at him; he wore a lopsided smile. "Not that I minded." The tension was so strong the air nearly vibrated with it, yet I held my tongue, terrified that I was the only one feeling it. He took a breath, deep, nearly rising on his toes. "No. I didn't mind at all." He took my hand, circled his thumb over the back. My breath caught as I felt it, as I watched him looking down at our hands.

Chriimmi bathtub dream. dream inspired Chris/Immi smut.

Chriimmi twitter. twitfic plus some, inspired from an actual tweet iamx made that i’m still not over.

@ imogenheap Come sing your lovely lyrics with us in London. @ IAMX misses you. CCx

ChrisxImmi main. grab bag of Chriimmi I was too lazy to put into separate docs.

“What do you think?” She grinned, twirling.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, I-Imogen, what are you wearing?”

“Well, I didn’t want to clash with your theme… Janine helped me. Does it work?”

Scandalously short skirt, midriff-baring top, knee-high boots.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Her grin only widened, even though a blush had started.

Fic edit chriimmi ver. yeah. editing someone else’s original fic to be chrimmi. either never posting or editing the frick out of. ~_~

He kissed her neck, whispered into it, “I love you.”

Imogen laughed. “Bollocks,” she said lazily.

”I do!” Chris protested. She looked down at him, nestled on her shoulder. He looked back, open, a little adoring. “I fell in love with you halfway through the show; I sang every note just for you.”

”Oh, please. You couldn’t have seen me.”

”No,” he said. “But I knew you were out there… I knew it had been you the minute I saw you backstage.”

Hospital Chriimmi. In which my guilty feeling over RPF are even worse bc of the inspiration ^_^U “Ms. Heap. What a pleasant surprise.” It’s surprising, how well she remembers his voice.

“Mr. Corner, what have you got yourself into?”

“Oh, just a bit of lingering insomnia. You know how it is.”

She takes a seat in the chair near his bed, crossing her legs. “Well, I’ve certainly had a sleepless night here and there, but I’ve never ended up in hospital from it. So no, I don’t suppose I do know.” Her tone is light, but her smile has begun to crack.

ImmixChris genderbend smut. the my secret friend video is... fertile material. have not actually written the smut yet.

...he saw us as characters– we put on those clothes and become separate from ourselves, removed. Whereas I simply felt like myself in men’s clothes, and instead of feeling what He felt for Her, I just kept right on feeling what I felt for Chris, amplified to a distracting level.

ReluctantdommeImmixSubCC. ...shrug emoji? notes and uh. visualizing.

Vampire Chriimmi. based on a dream. smutty. inspired by True Blood so wow that’s old.

From my Markipairings folder:

demon dream. markiplier self insert...... ughhhhhhhh o///o

"You can have me," I tell the creature. "But this one," I jerk my head toward Mark, "comes with me. He's mine, you see." A bold proclamation to make, but in the moment I know that the truth in those words surpasses everything I've ever said. He is mine, and saying the thought out loud fills me with courage. He squeezes my hand, two short and a long one so strong I think he might break it.

I know we’ll win.

DommeJujY. same as above, same as the next four. smutty.

Fight team AU. i forget where i got this one from. vaguely inspired by loveless i guess. The first clear thought I had was, He shouldn't have gone ahead of me. The second one was, I should have been able to protect him. But these came later, after the rage went away, after I hugged him and apologized, after I bandaged him…

Gaming meetcute. i win some contest or whatever to secretly tagteam w/ Mark. stuff happens and yeah......

The adrenaline surges through my veins as I take in the scene. Mark's avatar is flailing around, backed into a corner by some Eldritch Abomination and holy shit, the graphics in this game are amazing.

"This is not good, I can't move, I can't move…"

There's a voice in the back of my head screaming to shut the game down, to get that horrible thing off the screen. I ignore it.

Markinpanties. .......smut.

shifter-slight sci-fi AU. shrug emoji.

I looked up from the ground and saw I was heading straight for a brick wall. There was no time to slow down. I braced for impact...

It didn't happen. I opened my eyes and found myself in a café.

What.

Looking behind me, I saw a door. On impulse I walked over and opened it; the tree-lined street I could see through the glass was indeed there. No brick wall to smack my face into. Bewildered, I turned around and looked for a seat, choosing one near a window.

Gouldiplier~. master doc of ficbits of my cracky mccrackship, MarkiplierxEllie Goulding.

I check my phone during break time again. My selfie has been liked and retweeted thousands of times, and I shake my head in disbelief; I don't think that will ever stop surprising me, deep down. To make things even better, Mark's liked it! I'm in the middle of a happy jig when I realize there's a text from him and a squeak of joy slips from me.

hellooo gorgeous

looks like you're having fun. Hope the shoot's going great! <3

I quickly send a reply. it has been. Be glad when it's done tho. Missin u lots xo

Markipicbunnies. fanart of Mark for Gouldiplier insipration. photographer au.

"Ms. Goulding, I'm really not sure about this…"

"I produce pictures that are intimate because I'm an intimate being, Mark." Ellie looked at him directly, a hint of a smile shaping her lips. "Deep down, I think you are too. We just need to draw you out a bit."

showersexgouldiplier. WELP. IT’S SMUT.

Also I have folders for my 2010/11 nanowrimo novel that are kinda still WIPs but also kinda not

i’m gonna tag.... @kippielovesyou @kiridork and @mistergrass and anyone else who wants to do this can too :3

#JujYwrites #Mintyblather #i have too much stuuuffffff

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kiliosthestarmaker · 6 years ago

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Nyehehe 1-49 >.> all of dem 😏😉

I EXPECTED THIS BUT YOU’RE GOING TO K I L L M E

The Basics1. Do you listen to music when you write?

YES, Gods yes! The inspiration! The characterizations! The playlists I listen to when dealing with a particular character I love it I crave it!

2. Are you a pantser or a plotter?

Plotter, most things have already been decided on within my stories.

3. Computer or pen and paper?

Computer, I’ll use a pencil and paper only when I have no tech on me.

4. Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

I’d like to be published

5. How much writing do you get done on an average day?

Interesting question, I have no clue

6. Single or multiple POV?

Kind of multiple? It’s all in third POV but we follow around different characters

7. Standalone or series?

*cackles* SERIES

8. Oldest WIP

A whole series called Ratio Cor that I finally got back too

9. Current WIP

Worlds Rejoined

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

No. Gods no, I’d stress myself out.

The Specifics11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

Lord of The Rings

J.R.R. Tolkien

George Martin

Harry Potter

Rick Riordan

C.S. Lewis

My two writer friends Wolfe and Jacks

12. Describe your perfect writing space

My room, blasting with music in the morning when I have no school

13. Describe your writing process from idea to polished

Sure

A) Wake up at 2 AM with an idea

B) write it down

C) go back to sleep until you have to wake up properly

D) Write out a decent plot

E) Characters

F) World Building (My fav part)

G) Write and Feel your book

H) Make others suffer with you

14. How do you deal with self-doubts?

Music and talking to Wolfe

15. How do you deal with writer’s block?

Music, scrolling through Tumblr, talking to Wolfe and Jacks

16. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project?

Who the heckity heck knows

17. What writing habits or rituals do you have?

Grab some food and a drink

18. If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

I WOULD COLLABORATE WITH @princess-east AND @stressedwolfe and it would probably either be about the gods or some action/adventure/fantasy thing and we’ve done it before AND ALSO @koalajake CAUSE THE IDEAS HE HAS

ADORE

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

My dad expresses interest in my plots (the only family member that do), he tells me about showing it to other people at work or while he’s busy with something and the person just so happen to be there. My loves also encourage me.

there is also music

20. How many WIPs and story ideas do you have?

........ ehe well there is 1 collection, 4 series within that collection and about 3-4 books within each series sans one which will probably have more than that. Other than that...I have many, many ideas

The Favourites21. Who is/are your favorite character(s) to write?

I absolutely love writing Kilios, not only is he my favorite character, he’s just purely iconic.

22. Who is/are your favorite pairing(s) to write?

Most of my pairings are platonic as most characters are teens or children. There’s also those who have been married and are widowed now so-

OH THERE IS KOLFE I ABSOLUTELY LOVE WRITING THOSE TWO

23. Favorite author

Wait I have to choose??

24. Favorite genre to write and read

Fantasy

25. Favorite part of writing

WORLD BUILDING!!!! I SWEAR ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS BE LIKE “Hey Kilios you wanna help me build a world for this AU?” or “Hey Kilios can you help me build the world for my story?” AND I WILL BE ALL OVER THAT

26. Favorite writing program

Lmao does google docs count?

27. Favorite line/scene

From...from my book?

(Ratio Cor)

“Okay...” She hums softly as she screws on her arm. She flexes the mechanical fingers slowly before twisting her wrist. She grimaces slightly at the creaking of the joint. “Grandfather where’s the thing?”

“What thing?”

“The...the thing...uh...whot yz yt collud… THE OIL!” Kala exclaims after figuring it out. She hears her grandfather laugh. Kala huffs softly at the laughter. Her grandfather taught her the surface language at a young age. He told her it might come in handy one day, but she doesn’t understand why it would. The Markian language was harder to learn afterward.

(Working Title: Caelum Enterprise)

“That's a child.” Kai whispers. Kilios nods his head in agreement. “That’s a child.”

“Thirteen years old.” Kilios offers with a small grin. Kai’s face turns blank, and he stares at Kilios. A cold rage settles in his soul.

“So, I have to kill Zeus?” Shadow chokes on his laughter as he wraps his arms around Kai’s waist. Kilios snorts in amusement even though he knew his friend could kill the Lightning God if he wanted to.

“Now, now. Revenge is best served cold as you may know.” Kilios hums softly as they smirk at each other. Shadow and Oketh look at each other before shaking their heads in exasperation. “Zeus seems to want this kid somewhat broken down, so we’ll give the child the best childhood.”28. Favorite side character

Kai and Shadow, purely for their dynamic

29. Favorite villain

K,,,kilios

30. Favorite idea you haven’t started on yet?

Three siblings were reborn as siblings in the modern world. One problem, the ex-youngest sibling is the only that remembers their past and the evil that caused them to die before has followed them. So now, the sibling has to reawaken their siblings' past selves and strive off the evil force all alone. What will happen if the evil, instead of harming the ex-youngest sibling, takes them away to where they are treated as they should be and are loved. What happens when their siblings do reawaken and come after them? What happens if the ex-younger sibling doesn’t want to go? After all, they found love in the darkness. They found light within it as well insert King Keir who isn’t willing to let his consort be taken without a fight.

The Dark31. Least favorite part of writing

The,,, the writing part

32. Most difficult character to write

Alim??? I guess cause he’s like grandfatherly and most characters I’ve done in the past never met their grandparents??

33. Have you ever killed a main character?

Yes, even better! I’m going to kill one in one of my books!!

34. What was the hardest scene you ever had to write?

Kilios’,,,, death I’m-35. What scene/story are you least looking forward to writing?

KILIOS’ ORIGIN STORY

The Fun36. Last sentence you wrote

“Yeah, I’m alright.” She assures her grandfather after he gives her a look showing that he didn’t believe her. “So, what’s for breakfast?” She quickly changes the subject.

37. The first sentence or your current WIP

“Three creators, each lost in their own right. Their names were taken from books and erased from history. The first to come back will be the one who breathes the anger of volcanoes. Next will be the one who freezes the stars. Finally, the one with powers that are forbidden will come to light. Once together united as one. All will hail the Cold Sun.”

38. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

All of them

39. Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

A manipulative character that ends up saving the world due to having the ability to see at least ten steps of ahead and calculating an infinite amount of possibilities for options due to having who is literally the concept of the creation of stars and demihumans/hybrids as a bearer (Aka Kilios)

40. Share some backstory for one of your characters

AHAHAHAHA

Kyle Evren was born from a phoenix and the Primordial God Khaos. The toddler was neither male nor female. Ze was an outlier much like the being known as Udushunamir, who was a being created by the Egyptian Great God Ea. Kyle was born to die for the Gods.

Kavya Esther was created with the body of Saiph and life was breathed into her by Astraea. Her mother was a phoenix and the Star Goddess Astraea. Kavya was very radiant and creatures of all sizes tended to flock to her. The child was kind and lovely. Kavya was born to die for the Gods.

Kit Keir was born from a phoenix and the Hindu Celestial Deity known as Rahu. Kit was both male and female. Due to cer odd parentage, Kit gained both sexes from cer parents. Kit was a very elusive and dreamish teen. Ce would often be found drifting off into cer own little world without a care of anyone around cem. Kit was born to die for the Gods.

Kilios Caelum was born from the ashes of who he used to be. He was ruthless and tired. He was angry at what he’s been through. He swore to rise far above what he attempted to accomplish beforehand. He would build an empire, he would rise to the sky. Kilios refused to die for the Gods.

The Rest of It41. Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

Jot down any idea you have, no matter how vague or bizarre it is, write it down.Research, for the love of the gods, research whatever you need for your book and please please use multiple sites.Talk to other writers and ask for input, it’s alright to be nervous so just message them privately. Hell, you can ask me I’m always up for learning about new writers.

42. How do you feel about love triangles?

As long as it makes sense and doesn’t cause the main plot to be pushed as a subplot I’m good with it fam

43. What do you do if/when characters don’t follow the outline?

Mutter dark threats under my breath and curse my characters for putting me in the backseat of my own damn writing.

44. How much research do you do?

Literally, a third of my whole writing process is contributed to pure research.

45. How much world building do you do?

By the time I’m done, if someone finds it they’d think I just found the world and wrote down what the people told me.

46. Do you reread your own stories?

Yes and it’s physically painful

47. Best way to procrastinate

Youtube and Drawing

48. What’s the most self-insert character/scene you’ve ever written?

KILIOS IS LITERALLY ME THEN HE WENT OFF AND GOT HIS OWN STORY THE BASTARD

49. Which character would you most want to be friends with, if they were real?

All of them because they are my children and I love them.

#kilios answers #my king 💜🐺🎃💜#has killed me #writer's asks

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morningsound15 · 6 years ago

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How do you think Beca would handle her fame in perdition? We know all the gossip magazines like to make up stuff about celebrity couples and that talk show hosts and interviewers like to prod, do you reckon Beca would be open about her relationship with Chloe bc that’s something she’s wanted for so long, and therefore would scream from the rooftops that she’s in love with Chloe Beale and that she’s hers?

i know this wasn’t your intention anon but congratulations you got a drabble i just wrote in like 3 hours:

(P.S. If you love Stevie as much as I do, PLEASE watch this video of her singing “Wild Heart” while getting her makeup done for a Rolling Stone photo session. It will change your life.)

[COVER STORY]: Beca Mitchell on Her Newest Album, Coming Out & Finding Love. “I’m bisexual, and I’m proud of it.”By Sydney Havershaw

You probably wouldn’t recognize Beca Mitchell if she walked past you on the street. Her personal style is more ‘early-20’s grunge rock enthusiast’ than ‘Grammy Award-winning musician.’ She’s dressed comfortably for our interview — in a pair of skinny jeans, combat boots, and an oversized flannel shirt. Mitchell seems perpetually youthful, and among the crowd of college students around us, she fits right in. At 5’2”, she is also certainly an unassuming figure on the street. “I’m basically a hobbit,” she jokes early in our interview, when situation demands we perch on a set of barstools while we wait for our lunch table. Mitchell’s feet dang comically off the floor, and she swings them absent-mindedly while we get to know each other.

The restaurant where we meet is a tiny hole-in-the-wall Italian bistro — the space is so small it can barely fit 6 tables and the mini-bar it confusingly insists on forcing into the already-crowded room — but it’s a favorite of Mitchell’s (who made me adamantly swear to reveal neither the name nor location of her personal haunt). The little building is charming and rustic and somehow both out-of-place and perfectly nestled within its surroundings. The atmosphere is exquisite. I find myself nearly anxious to grab my pen and begin scribbling down notes.

There’s something easy about being around Mitchell. She has this awkward energy that makes her seem jumpy but also strangely endearing. She’s quick to crack jokes and put herself down for the benefit of the group dynamic. Though her proclivity to make fun of herself is startling at first, her wit and sincerity ultimately triumph, becoming the adjectives which immediately come to mind whenever her name is mentioned in my presence thereafter. Before we even order our food she’s had me in stitches twice, both times with stories about some of her more raucous adventures with her all-female college acapella group, The Barden Bellas (more on them later). She’s an excellent storyteller, if not excellently verbose, and I cannot wait to see what she might have in store for our interview.

It’s a bright afternoon in early March, with clear skies and only the barest hint of a chill in the air. It’s beautiful, and the subtle feeling of spring is beginning to emerge in outfit choices, store inventory, and menu changes. But while most people tend to feel energized and rejuvenated with the promise of new beginnings, Mitchell is still practically reeling from the relative whirlwind of the previous month. She won a Grammy, came out, and started a new relationship — and that was all just in one day!

“I feel like everything changed overnight. I went from being, like, a club DJ to now, I’m at the point where people literally stop me on the street for pictures.” She laughs and shakes her head, like she can’t quite believe it. “It’s been completely nuts.”

For those who may be unaware: after a very public Grammys acceptance speech earlier this year, Mitchell was caught locking-lips with her date, Chloe. [Note: While their relationship is not a secret, and the identity of Mitchell’s partner can be easily found, Mitchell requested we leave Chloe’s last name out of this article for the sake of her privacy.]

Almost immediately, Mitchell’s name-recognition sky-rocketed. The image of the kiss circulated countless gossip websites, made headlines in newspapers around the country, and became a trending topic on Twitter. Videos of the night played on nearly every morning talk show. Mitchell’s social media following almost tripled overnight. Suddenly, and without warning, Mitchell has found herself at the center of a media blitz caused by her very public — and incredibly adorable (link) — public coming out. Seriously, if you haven’t seen the video of her acceptance speech yet (have you been living under a rock?) go watch it right now. You’ll cry, you’ll laugh, you’ll squeal, you’ll fall in love.

[image]

Pictured: Beca Mitchell [left] and partner kissing on the red carpet.

Since we both know where this interview is eventually headed (it would be impossible not to talk about it at some point), I figure I should ask: does she want to talk about her relationship first?

She shrugs, her leg bouncing under the table. “I don’t know. No? The… I always think of myself as an artist, first. And my personal life is my personal life. But, you guys are, like… the gay magazine. I can’t imagine it won’t come up.”

Her confidence from earlier has all-but vanished. Perhaps because her music carries with it the easy, confident maturity of an artist with twice her experience, it’s easy to forget she’s still new at this. In order to put her at ease, I start off with a few softball questions, things to get her excited and make her more comfortable with where our interview is going.

Her favorite musician growing up? She smiles, looking much less anxious. “I think this probably is gonna hurt my rep, but I gotta go with Stevie.”

“Nicks?” I ask. This is surprising to me, though perhaps it shouldn’t be. While Mitchell’s music is pretty reliably ‘Pop’, it also shows evidence of clear influence from eclectic styles of music, including jazz and alternative.

“Absolutely. She was my childhood crush. And like, she’s totally everything that I want to be, as a musician. First time I listened to the album Rumours I thought, ‘God, that’s just about the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard.’ It’s the story of a relationship falling apart, the dissolution of a marriage, about cheating and heartbreak and mistrust. But it’s also about optimism, and joy. And… well, to me, it’s also about love. And I used to sit there and listen to that album and think, ‘That’s what I want. If I can produce a piece of music even half as emotional, half as complete, I’ll be happy.’ My entire life, all I’ve ever wanted is just one great love story to tell.”

She’s passionate when talking about her music. She seems energized and excited, like she’s thrilled that anyone at all is interested in her music in any capacity. Because it seems like her preferred topic of discussion, I keep asking her questions about her most recent work. Her favorite song on the album? “Oh, that one’s easy,” she says. “Gotta be ‘Saudade’.”

Saudade is a Portuguese word that roughly translates to a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia. It is a word closely associated with Brazilian music and Brazilian culture. Its most famous usage in pop culture comes from the famous Antônio Carlos Jobim Bossa Nova song “Chega de Saudade” (the published English version is titled “No More Blues”). Mitchell uses the chord changes of Jobim’s chart as the basis for her own melody. This is a common musical practice amongst jazz composers (similar to what ’sampling’ is to Hip Hop and R&B artists), but much less prevalent in Mitchell’s more Pop-dominated genre.

“Saudade” is an early stand-out on Mitchell’s album. It’s a melancholy affair, with a Latin/Bossa drum feel that immediately conjures images of warm summer nights. And to round out the nostalgia of the instrumentals, the song’s lyrics are almost as haunting as the vocal work. Cynthia-Rose Adams, one of the album’s main featured artists, manages to evoke a quiet, unendurable kind of heartbreak while still keeping her performance subtle and subdued. The piece is more than a little impressive. It truly is a masterclass in sad, mournful, longing ballads, and puts more popular efforts by artists like Adele completely to shame. If it isn’t on every teenage girl’s “breakup playlist” by the end of the year, I would be shocked.

But when asked about her preference for that song, Mitchell’s response is less-confident than the quickness of her earlier answer would imply. “I work with a lot of really incredible musicians. My friend, Cynthia-Rose [Adams], who actually provides vocals for that track, she’s a trained jazz vocalist. She’s listed as a co-writer for that song because it’s really all because of her that it has any kind of melody. I showed her a bunch of lyrics really early on, back when I was still work-shopping, and she was in the room with me when I was writing the first draft. But, God, it was terrible.” She laughs again (always willing to joke at her own expense). “No, for real, it was… horrible. So cliché and dumb. But Cynthia just kind of on a whim suggested we try to craft a love ballad using the chord changes of Chega, and I listened to it one time and then it’s like I couldn’t stop writing. It all just poured out of me. The music tied to the lyrics and back again. It’s like the song always existed, and I just was the first person to hear it and write it down.” She pauses, as if she’s only just realizing how long she’s been speaking. “But really,” she says quickly, “without the performance Cynthia puts out on that track, it just… I couldn’t have done it with any other singer. I’m so grateful for her.”

This is a common feature of our interview. Mitchell is almost reluctant to take sole credit for her own music. At every turn she’s thanking her vocalists, her sound engineers, and her co-producers. It belies the incredible amount of time and energy and dedication she put into crafting this album. Anyone who works with Mitchell will also be sure to note both her work ethic and her unyielding attention to detail. Talking to her, you might think a great many things about her character, but ‘immodest’ would certainly not be one of them.

When I ask how she met her collaborators — specifically Adams and Emily Junk, the album’s other featured vocalist — Mitchell grins wider than she has all afternoon. The ease immediately returns to her body. She relaxes in her chair, lounging back with her legs crossed over the knee. She seems like any other 20-something again. You never would guess that, a few short weeks ago, she was a trending topic on Twitter.

“I met Cynthia and Emily in college. They were in the same acapella group I was in.” She’s talking about the Barden Bellas, the nationally-ranked all-female acapella group out of Barden University, a small liberal arts college just outside Atlanta, Georgia. Mitchell was the captain of the group for 3 years, and led the Bellas to two national championships and one world title. “We were really just a bunch of misfits,” she says when I prod her for more information. “And, y’know, being a group of only women, it’s actually pretty hard to make a name for yourself in the acapella world. The best groups are either mixed or all-male. And we’re a very diverse group, and most of us don’t necessarily fit with conventional beauty standards. So I’m just really proud we were able to break through, make an impact, and show people what a group of badass, powerful ladies can do.”

Does she keep in contact with her old group? “Oh, of course, we talk on the daily. I mean, the Bellas gave me everything. They’re my family. I truly don’t know where I’d be without them.”

But now, it’s time to address the elephant in the room. I almost want to apologize to her, though I know it’s completely unnecessary. She has made it apparent that she is comfortable answering personal questions, and has previously specified to me that she is open and completely willing to talk about her own coming out experience. But even though I know she’s agreed to this line of questioning, that’s still just the kind of person she is: she makes you want to look out for her, to keep her safe. She’s so shockingly sincere, so non-malicious, that to do anything to harm her in any way seems tantamount to blasphemy.

Almost like she can sense a shift in the air between us, Mitchell sets her shoulders. I ask her if she’s nervous about coming out. “Not at all,” she answers quickly. “I’ve been ‘out’ for pretty much my whole life. Sexuality has never been a problem for me. I’ve never talked about it before because, honestly — and I know this sounds cheesy and cliché, but I really do mean it — it’s just never come up. It’s been such a non-issue for so long. And I guess I figured it would become common knowledge sooner or later. I just never anticipated, the, um…”

“Going viral?”

She flushes. “Yeah. Never saw that one coming.”

Becoming an overnight sensation by going public with a relationship is an experience that is difficult to replicate or understand, if you haven’t been through it. I ask Beca how she feels about the sudden influx and attention she’s been receiving.

“I don’t mind the attention,” she says honestly. “It can get pretty scary sometimes, but it’s not like I have paparazzi lurking around my apartment or anything, so I feel like I got off pretty easy. I mean I don’t like the attention, but, y’know… sales have gone up, at least,” she jokes, somewhat half-heartedly.

And about her new internet celebrity status (there are dozens and dozens of Tumblr pages devoted to her alone) as an out, queer female musician?

“I mean, I hope we’re moving into a time when, like, it doesn’t matter who anybody dates?” she says, somewhat uncertainly. “I’m like, yeah, technically a celebrity, but it still shouldn’t really matter who I’m with. Man or woman. Like, shouldn’t we be past this, now? If I had kissed a guy that night, I wouldn’t have made the front page. There’s just something different about a queer artist, a woman kissing another woman publicly, I guess. And I mean I do get why. When I was a young, baby bi, I didn’t really have any musicians I could look to, to see myself represented. I know how important it is to see people be out and open about who they are and who they love. I don’t mean to imply that I’m taking that for granted. I am so thankful to every person who’s told me that they’ve connected with my story. And to the people who say I’ve helped them in any way, like… truly, that is such an honor.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip nervously. “But at the same time, I don’t know if I like that we still live in a world where it’s, like, headline news if a low-level celebrity like me just happens to be dating someone of the same gender.” She laughs lightly. “Guess that’s not something I should say to a magazine that focuses on LGBTQ issues, huh?”

I shrug it off. Mitchell’s point is, after all, a valid one. In this modern political climate, there does seem to be something strangely antiquated (if the early-2000s can be considered ‘antiquated’, that is) about a celebrity needing to give a ‘coming out’ interview. But, despite the merits of her argument, I still have a job to do.

I ask her about her burgeoning role as an icon for other young queer women hoping to enter the industry. “I don’t know if I’m the best role model,” she says with her signature self-deprecating manner. “But I am queer. My music is based off of my life, and I am in a same-sex relationship at the moment. My last album was about a woman. And none of that’s a secret. I’m just going to continue to make the music that I want to make, and my sexuality and my current relationship are definitely a big part of my art. I’m not going to apologize for that. I’m just gonna live my life the best I can, and if people want to see me as a role model for that… yeah, I’d be proud of that.”

I wonder how Chloe feels about her sudden thrust into the limelight. Her life as an inauspicious, unknown civilian must be all-but over (at least, for the time being).

Beca is careful with her response. It takes her many long moments to weigh her words. “We both really value our privacy. And with regards to our relationship, well… I don’t want to speak for her. But I do know that she’d prefer it if she didn’t have any of the fame or the attention. Because of that, we’re really doing our best to keep a low media profile, for our families and also for our personal lives.”

[image]

Pictured: Beca Mitchell, wearing an Angela Chen Jacket, Skoot Apparel Sneakers, Gap Socks, Stylist’s own tank top, and her own jeans.

“But I… we really do want to keep out of the media, as much as possible. But I don’t want people to… A lot of people have contacted me recently, like… way more people than I expected. I get Instagram and Twitter messages every day from young fans; people approach me in the street and tell me that they’ve been impacted by my story; I get letters from people saying that it’s meant a lot to them to see a prominent queer female artist, and… I do feel such a responsibility, now. I understand how much it blows to feel alone and… misunderstood. So, while Chloe and I are trying to keep our private lives private, I don’t want people to think that I’m ashamed of who I am or who I choose to date. That’s not the reason we’ve been keeping a low profile. I’m not ashamed of who I am. So I want to be open about my life. I want people to know that I’m bisexual, and I’m proud of it. And I’m proud of my significant other. But I also want people to respect me, and what I choose to share. I’m sort of a public figure, now, and I signed on for it willingly; like I knew this was coming for me. But Chloe doesn’t really want that life, so… if people could respect my privacy, that would be amazing. I’m not going to stop being who I am and loving who I love proudly and vocally, but I want people to understand that the parts of my life I share are the parts of my life I’m willing to share. Because sometimes — and I think we forget this a lot because of how everyone’s always gotta be documenting their lives on social media and everything — sometimes I think there are some things that should just be for you.”

She shakes her head ruefully. “My publicist is gonna kick my ass. That answer was so preachy and long-winded.” She startles. “Oh shit, can I say ‘ass’?” When I nod in the affirmative, she seems more than a little relieved.

I tell her I understand her desire for privacy. I want to respect her wishes as much as possible, but I’m still dying to know something.

Does she think she’s found her one great love story?

“Chloe’s my best friend,” Mitchell says calmly, with a serene sort of smile on her face. “And she makes me happier than anyone in the world. So if you’re wondering whether I’m ‘finding love’?” She smiles coyly, and looks off to the side. The street outside our café is bustling with activity. A young couple walks by with limbs intertwined, their free hands each balancing an ice cream cone. On a nearby bench, an old man reads the newspaper to his bent-over wife. It think maybe it’s just me, noticing all the sweet signs of romance filtering through the air. (Spring, like I said, makes me think of new starts and new beginnings.)

But Mitchell finally turns back to me. Her smile never wavers. “I would say that it definitely looks promising.”

#perdition #one shots #bechloe #anonymous #asks #didn't plan on writing this but got inspired #:)#long post

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