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theartofbeinganerd · 7 years ago

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Tonight, we’ve got a short fic that I wrote likely not long after I started watching the show a few years ago (but honestly it feels like ages ago now omg), set sometime around mid-Season One (I consider it to be AU-ish). I’d never really been a big fan of this one, but I re-read it again recently and liked it a little more than I’d remembered, so hopefully it’s alright!

(Ao3)

“Okay, next question…” Skye trailed off, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she reached for the bowl of popcorn between them on the bed. She had insisted on a “girl’s night”, and when she’d tried to propose a game of Truth or Dare, Jemma had gently reminded her that there weren’t many dares they could carry out on the Bus that wouldn’t end with them on the receiving end of one of May’s terrifying glares. So, they’d simply stuck to the “Truth” part of the game, and so far the questions had been pretty tame – Jemma was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Hmm…” Tapping a finger against her chin as she chewed her handful of popcorn, Skye’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! I’ve got it! Have you ever kissed Fitz?”

And there it was.

“Oh! Um…” Nervously, Jemma played with a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail, twisting it around her finger. “Well…I’m afraid the answer to that question is rather…complicated.”

Skye stared blankly at Jemma for a moment, then she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Um, no it’s not. Either you’ve kissed or you haven’t, it’s a simple question.” Then, with a smirk, she tacked on, “Oh, and if the answer is yes, I’m definitely going to need details.”

Anxiously wringing her hands in her lap, Jemma let out a long, slow exhale, then launched into the honestly complicated answer to what was supposedly a simple question. “Well, during our third year at Sci-Ops, Fitz and I attended a party one of our colleagues was throwing, and we got rather…inebriated. What I remember of that night is spotty at best, and honestly, half the memories I have couldn’t possibly be real. Yes, I remember something like grabbing Fitz once we returned to our flat and kissing him, but I’m…well, I’m just not sure it actually happened. I woke up the next morning with a wretched hangover, lying on the bathroom floor – Fitz was passed out in the kitchen. I never found the courage to ask him what he remembered from that night, so I can’t definitively answer yes or no.”

For a long moment, Skye was quiet. Then, she shook her head slowly, holding up a hand in the universal gesture for ‘stop’. “Hold up Simmons, there’s so much about this that needs to be discussed. Like the fact that you and Fitz lived together?!”

Jemma raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, you didn’t know that?” When Skye shook her head, giving Jemma a look, she simply shrugged. “Well, it just made things easier. We were partners and planned to stay partners, and we didn’t have to pay two separate rents.”

“Most boring explanation ever,” Skye sighed, sounding truly disappointed. “Okay, second, why exactly would it have been such a big deal if you and Fitz did kiss? Why did you need ‘courage’ to ask him about it? Friends kiss when they’re drunk all the time, I mean it’s practically a rite of passage, Simmons.”

Not quite sure of the answer to the oddly unsettling question herself, Jemma shrugged again. “I don’t know, I suppose I was just afraid of it affecting our friendship somehow. We’ve always been so close, and he’s my best friend, I didn’t want to know if a kiss could change everything.”

“Would it change anything now if you were to find out whether it actually happened or not?”

Jemma took a moment to mull the question over, biting at her lip absently. After a moment, she answered slowly and hesitantly, “I…I suppose not.”

“Alright then.” Skye jumped up from the bed, heading for the door.

Surprised, Jemma scrambled up from the bed as well, hurrying after Skye, who was already out of the room and heading across the corridor with purpose. “Skye, what are you doing?”

“Finding out! You may not be curious enough to bother with it, but I am.” With that, Skye knocked on Fitz’s door. “Open up Fitz, Simmons and I have a question!”

It took a moment, but then Fitz’s door slid open and he stood in the doorframe, his hair sleep-rumbled and his eyes half shut as he rubbed at them, stifling a yawn. “What is it? I was sleeping.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, it’ll only take a minute.” Skye forced her way past Fitz into the room, sitting down on the edge of his bed, and Jemma had no choice but to follow. When her gaze met Fitz’s and she caught his confused expression, she attempted to give him an encouraging smile, but she was sure it fell flat when she saw his confusion turn to concern.

Jemma was going to stay standing and allow Fitz the small space left on his bed next to Skye, but then she was being tugged down by the other woman, flopping unceremoniously onto Fitz’s unkempt sheets. Fitz stood in front of them, leaning back against the wall. “Alright, what is so important you had to wake me from my peaceful slumber?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Simmons and I were having a girl’s night, you know, pillow fights and doing each other’s hair and all,” Skye started, and Jemma noticed Fitz’s eyebrows dart up a bit at the explanation, looking to her in surprise, “and during a rousing game of Truth Without the Dare, I asked Simmons if she’d ever kissed you.”

The expression that took over Fitz’s face was an odd mixture of something like panic and resignation. “Oh?” He was obviously trying to keep calm, but his voice was an octave too high. Immediately, Jemma realized that he knew something.

Clearly having noticed the same thing, Skye narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yeah. And she told me she didn’t know, then proceeded to inform me of a night where you guys got smashed at a party, went back home, and she thinks she remembers laying one on you, but isn’t sure it’s for real. Do you have a different account of that night you’d like to share?”

Fitz cleared his throat, his gaze darting around the room as though he was avoiding making eye contact with either of them. “And which night is it that we’re talking about?”

“Agent Elliot’s party our third year at Sci-Ops,” Jemma answered quietly, gazing at Fitz searchingly. If he remembered something, why hadn’t he told her sooner? Of course, she hadn’t said anything either, but still…

“Ah, yes, Agent Elliot’s party.” Clearing his throat one more time, Fitz dropped his gaze to watch his fingers playing with the fraying hem of his old Academy t-shirt.

Giving a groan of clear exasperation, Skye snapped, “Get on with it, Fitz!”

“Well…I remember doing quite a bit of drinking. We’d just finished our latest version of the DWARFs and were indulging in a bit of celebration. Um…things got a bit hazy after awhile, but I remember leaving and walking back to our flat. Our neighbor, the delightful Mrs. Walton, was out walking her dog and she called us no-good, booze-drinking hooligans.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Jemma cut in, shaking her head at the memory. “Oh Mrs. Walton. Such a dear old woman.”

“And?” Skye prodded impatiently.

“And,” Fitz went on, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes at Skye, “I couldn’t find my key, I think, and then Simmons remembered that she left her purse at Elliot’s house. So, um…”

As he was saying the words, Jemma remembered the exact moment, her face heating in a blush. It was one of the things she’d been sure hadn’t actually happened, but now, not quite as sure, she asked hesitantly, “Did we crawl through the window?”

Fitz flushed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Uh…yeah. The one you were always yelling at me to keep closed, but it helped us get back in so at least there’s that, yeah?”

Skye let out an amused snort. “Oh my god, I wish I had seen that! Drunk Fitzsimmons crawling through a window? Must’ve been priceless.” Leaning forward excitedly, Skye waggled her eyebrows at Fitz, but it was a wasted effort, given that he still refused to look at either of them. “And then, once you were inside, Simmons jumped you, didn’t she?!”

“Er…no. She wanted to make cookies.”

Another hazy, unreal memory floated to the forefront of Jemma’s brain, and she groaned into her hands. “Oh my god, we tried to make cookies, didn’t we? But we almost burned them, and I tried to eat one anyway and started crying.”

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Fitz answered, giving her a weak smile. “So, I found some Oreos I’d stashed in my room and we ate those.” Wincing, he lowered his gaze back to the ground, where he was scuffing his foot against the carpet. “And when there was one left, you told me that if I gave it to you…you’d, um…” He lowered his voice, and his next words were barely audible.

“What was that?” Skye asked loudly. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

Sighing in resignation, Fitz repeated a bit more clearly, “You said you’d kiss me for it.”

Jemma felt her face heating and her stomach tying itself in knots as she finally got her answer – she’d actually kissed him. After all these years, she knew with absolute certainty that she’d kissed her best friend before, even if she barely remembered it.

“So…I agreed,” Fitz admitted, though he sounded so sad and ashamed of himself. “And…er…so you…um…kissed me.”

“Yes!” Skye cried, jumping up from the bed so quickly that she startled both Fitz and Jemma. “I just knew you guys couldn’t have been friends as long as you have been and not have kissed before! I so knew it!” When only silence followed her statement, she paused, glancing back and forth between them. Seeming to pick up on the sudden tense atmosphere, she cleared her throat and inched toward the door. “And…now that that’s settled, I’ll leave you two to…do whatever it is you do. I had fun Simmons, we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

And with that, Skye disappeared, shutting the door behind her and leaving Fitz to stare at the floor and Jemma to stare at Fitz.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked softly, careful to keep any accusation out of her tone. She certainly didn’t blame him, especially given how badly he seemed to feel about it.

Fitz shrugged expressively. “I don’t know. I mean, you’d had more to drink than me, and if I barely remembered parts of it, I figured that you must remember even less. There…well, I guess there just never seemed like a good reason to bring it up.”

“Oh.”

It was quiet for another moment before Fitz braved a look up to meet her gaze. “I want you to know that nothing more than…um…kissing occurred. After a couple minutes, you pulled away and ran for the bathroom, and I’m sure you can guess how the rest of your night went.”

Making a face, Jemma nodded in agreement. “Oh yes, the taste in my mouth the next morning was more than enough to tell that part of the story.” Standing from the bed, Jemma placed a hand on his arm and told him, “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Yeah sure.” He shrugged off her thanks, giving her a small smile.

“I have just one question though.” Fitz raised an eyebrow curiously, nodding for her to go on. “I could swear that we made an absolute mess of the kitchen, yet it was perfectly pristine the next morning, just how I left it.”

Fitz’s cheeks colored with a blush, and when he dipped his head, Jemma noticed that the tips of his ears were reddened as well. “Oh, that. Yeah, it was a mess, but…well, while you were puking your guts out, I set to cleaning up so you wouldn’t have to do it with the wicked hangover you’d have the next morning. I…er…ended up passing out right there in the kitchen after I finished up.”

For a moment, all Jemma could do was stare at Fitz in stunned surprise. When he glanced up at her, obviously looking for whatever her reaction to the news was, she was filled with a burst of affection for her best friend. “Oh Fitz.” Shaking her head at him, she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled back, she gave him a warm smile before opening the door and letting herself out of his bunk with a soft, “Goodnight Fitz.”

It was only once she’d returned to her own bunk and gotten in bed that she found herself staring up through the dark at the ceiling, remembering what she now knew was the very real experience of having Fitz’s lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth and his hands gripping her waist.

Automatically, her hand rose to her face, her fingers brushing her lips as what was now only a phantom sensation tingled across them. Then, Jemma shook her head at herself, lowering her hand back to the mattress. You only think it was good because you can’t remember otherwise! she scolded herself, rolling her eyes at the very idea of enjoying kissing Fitz – she was so drunk she likely would’ve enjoyed kissing old Mrs. Walton just as much!

Jemma pointedly chose to ignore the part of her brain (which sounded suspiciously like Skye – she’d just assume from now on that this was where the thoughts of bad girl shenanigans resided in her mind) that was attempting to goad her into proving that she wouldn’t enjoy it as much sober.

Really, the very idea was ridiculous. Fitz was just her best friend, and that’s all she’d ever thought of him as, drunken kisses and adorable sleep-rumbled hair and thoughtful cleaning notwithstanding.

Still, Jemma found herself spending the majority of the night tossing and turning, unable to get the idea of waltzing into Fitz’s bunk and kissing him breathless out of her suddenly traitorous mind.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #shayna's one shot collection #season one #season one au #i'm still not sure how i feel about this one #but oh well #i'm running out of old fics to post #and i was too tired to form words tonight #tw: alchohol mention

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blueprint-han · 4 years ago

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desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay skznta event, written for @stayndays !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it! ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”.

“Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them.

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock.

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.”

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose.

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date.

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too.

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter.

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it.

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion?

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own?

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it.

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long.

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now.

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch.

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across.

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all.

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.”

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.”

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned.

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon. You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door.

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod.

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up.

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days.

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly.

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it.

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately.

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly.

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.”

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?”

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.”

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course.

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

taglist: @inkidz @stayverse @districtninewriters @kpopscape @skzwritersclub + @sunoo-luvs @sleepylixie @rae-blogging @happiestgirlontheeastcoast @guerillrah @p2q3r4 @baby-innie (Please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!) *oh holy lord pls let this show up in the tags*

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goatsandgangsters · 4 years ago

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Top 5 Meyer/Charlie moments in the series!👀 in depth explanations always encouraged 💗💗

oh ANON you FLATTER ME! And you indulge my inability to ever be concise…

1. That ending scene in Friendless Child. This is the pinnacle. The peak. The moment where if I had to show a random person exactly one scene from Boardwalk to prove how married these two are, it would be this one. The warm, contented, lovesick way Charlie is openly staring at Meyer throughout their entire conversation with Torrio. The way they’re so relaxed and at peace, finally. The psychic conversation we watch them have while Torrio is talking. When Meyer reaches for Charlie’s arm. The first time I watched it I thought “oh wow they’re actually going to kiss,” not even in a sdkhfgkjfhd way but just this moment of calm surprise because it looked that much like Meyer was going to grab him and kiss him. THE TENDER WAY MEYER HOLDS ONTO HIS ARM AND STARES DEEPLY INTO HIS EYES!!! THE WAY CHARLIE SMILES BACK!!! WHOEVER IN THE EDITING ROOM DECIDED TO FADE THE SONG IN HALFWAY THROUGH ON THE LYRIC “FOR MY LOVE IS YOUR LOVE, THERE’S NO LOVE FOR NOBODY ELSE” FOR THIS. The fact that everyone knew they looked So Absolutely In Love that they had to tack on random women for plausible deniability, but that didn’t even work because Charlie and Meyer barely even LOOK AT THEM because they’re too lost in each other’s eyes. Like WE GET IT!!!! YOU’RE IN LOVE!!!!!!!

they are… incredibly married.

[there were exhibits A, B, and C here but it wasn’t showing up in the tag until I removed them, so thanks for that tumblr]

2. Speaking of being incredibly married, I love their exchange over the stolen watches. “Might as well set up a pushcart,” “fellas who know what time it is,” the SNARKING AND JOKING WITH EACH OTHER! There’s a lot to unpack in terms of what’s going on off-screen (Charlie’s bloody knuckles and Meyer’s sigh of “I wish you’d stop with this,” like how regularly does Charlie beat someone up and steal counterfeit watches??) But the way they joke with each other and tease each other, it’s so comfortable, it’s so familiar. It’s one of the only times we get to see them alone together and at ease—no high stakes gangster situation, no serious business talk. Just two people who’ve known each other since they were kids, who are totally comfortable around each other, and who joke and tease and sigh at each other like the old married couple they are.

3. The way Meyer grounds Charlie in their finale scene in season 3. The way Meyer’s anger from out in the hallway dissolves as soon as he puts two and two together (and he puts it together way before Charlie does). The intimacy of Meyer’s hand on Charlie’s neck. (And WHAT A CHOICE too. His neck? That’s such an intimate place to touch someone, but when you’re Meyer/Anatol’s height it’s also somewhat impractical, so the fact that they still chose to have him reach up and touch Charlie in such an intimate vulnerable place in order to steady up and stand with him….. WHOOF THE INTIMACY). That moment where Charlie is lost and helpless and angry and confused—and he locks eyes with Meyer and you see him deflate, you see the anger disappear from his eyes and you see the hurt instead. The way he looks at Meyer like he’s a drowning man and Meyer’s the only thing that floats for miles. The way Meyer DOES NOT! TAKE! HIS! HAND! off Charlie’s neck. Even when he has to grit his teeth and disparage Charlie a little in order to save their skin (and you see, oh you see, how bad it tastes in his mouth to have to say any of that), he never takes his hand off Charlie. The way he says with his body Don’t listen, you know it’s not true, you know I’m with you. It’s such a vulnerable scene (side note: that’s something I love and admire about Vincent Piazza’s acting in particular, that he’s never afraid to go really vulnerable with his acting choices, which is an impressive choice for a man who often plays, well, prickly assholes where you wouldn’t expect it). This scene is so powerful and intimate between the two of them. And it’s telling about the strength and importance of their bond that this intimate moment happens in front of AR and Masseria.

3b. It’s not as powerful a moment, because it’s a much smaller scene on a much smaller scale, but for similar reasons I also love the scene at the end of season 2 where Jimmy and Charlie are arguing and Jimmy calls him Sal and—again with the vulnerable acting choices—Charlie’s upset. He’s not angry, he’s upset. And I love how Meyer immediately cuts in with “is THAT the issue” to change the subject. I love how Charlie retreats to Meyer’s side and stands with his back to the room for a moment to collect himself because he’s safe at Meyer’s side, while Meyer is standing there arms crossed and baring his teeth. I love that in the middle of these fraught moments with other gangsters, if Charlie needs him, Meyer’s there. And you can tell how much Meyer makes him feel safe.

4. Shayna punim and try not to sit by the window—or How To Say I Love You Without Saying Those Exact Words. The intent way Meyer shifts his focus to Charlie as soon as he comes in the room. The little nod behind Benny’s back that Charlie wants to talk in private. The total lack of hesitation on “I’ll come with you.” MASSERIA HATES! THAT SHAYNA PUNIM OF YOURS! 💖Just Extremely Platonic Business Partner Things: complimenting his beautiful face in his own language💖 I was also so caught up in the other great lines in this scene that I almost forgot about “this is the problem with you, always very headstrong, good thing I’m hear to talk some sense” and Meyer, through all the tension, laughs. It’s such a familiar way to talk, such a teasing way for Charlie to say, “I am very headstrong and I need you to talk some sense,” but like TEASING HIM ABOUT IT INSTEAD OF SAYING IT OUTRIGHT BECAUSE THEY’RE JUST LIKE THAT. How Meyer can’t even look at him when he says “try not to sit by the window” but how he can’t look away as Charlie leaves, with that look on his face that says I love you so much, please come home safe.

5. I wrote the first four answers immediately and then took a couple days to decide on my 5th one, but I think that I’m going with Their Final Scene ever, even though there’s very little conversation between the two of them. But, you know, OUR FRIENDS, OUR PARTNERS!!!!!!!! The very deliberate choice of our friends = shot of Benny and our partners = shot of Meyer. And OH THAT SHOT OF MEYER, sitting there with the slow blink of a cat in a patch of sunshine who also just killed and ate the canary. Like that smug “mhm, yes I AM the one sitting at his right hand. Not any of you. Me.” That pride. That satisfaction. That “yeah, he’s mine” vibe. Overall, I admit it’s more of a significant scene for Charlie than for Charlie/Meyer necessarily, but I love that it’s been such a big part of Charlie’s narrative, the constantly being told “don’t work with them, you’re one of us, we’re your people, not them,” but then everything culminates in a scene where Charlie says “actually fuck that, it doesn’t matter if you’re Italian or Jewish or Irish #LoveWins,” where he’s got Meyer and Benny beside him and THEN the Italians. The table might be round for a reason, but who’s sitting beside you is still significant, Charlie. Plus, the fact that after the whole table does a toast, the FINAL SHOT OF CHARLIE AND MEYER is them sitting back down and quietly toasting each other. Yes, yes, they did the business bit with everyone else, but this is for them. And even though the audio is soft, the chorus of Italians toasting “salute” followed by Meyer getting the last word for Team NY, toasting Charlie with “l’chaim.”

#Boardwalk Empire #Meyer Lansky #Charlie Luciano #otp: soulmates in crime #boardwalk meta #anon tag

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wrestlingisfake · 6 years ago

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Takeover: Brooklyn IV preview

Tommaso Ciampa vs. Johnny Gargano - Ciampa is defending the NXT championship in a last man standing match. The match cannot end by pinfall, submission, count-out, or disqualification. Whenever either competitor is on the ground but not in contact with his opponent, the referee will begin a count of ten. The first man who cannot answer the count by returning to a standing position loses; the winner is thus the “last man standing” and the champion.

This is the third Gargano/Ciampa match since Ciampa turned on Gargano to break up their tag team. Gargano won the first match in New Orleans and wanted to move on to challenging Aleister Black for the title, but Ciampa kept interfering. That set up the second match in Chicago, which Gargano lost mostly because he went too far. That gave Ciampa a path to his own title shot, and he beat Black when Gargano’s attempt at interference backfired. Black wasn’t real thrilled with Gargano after that, and a three-way match was originally scheduled here to settle everything. But then Black was mysteriously injured by an unknown assailant (to cover for his absence due to a legit groin tear). The attack was characteristic of Ciampa’s sadism, but also happened to produce exactly what Gargano wanted: A one-on-one title match to settle the score from New Orleans and Chicago.

This feud has gotten a little Extra with the drama, but it’s easily the most compelling thing WWE has done for the last couple of years. If Gargano wins the title without succumbing to his hatred for Ciampa, the story’s over and that’s that. So I don’t think it won’t be that simple. WWE originally booked Ciampa/Black/Gargano for a reason, and I suspect it was to defer the final Ciampa/Gargano showdown for much later. With Black out of the picture they have to find another way to do it, which probably won’t be pretty for Gargano’s soul. There’s probably a way for Gargano to win the title and keep things moving, but the safe money is on Ciampa retaining.

Shayna Baszler vs. Kairi Sane - Baszler is defending the NXT women’s championship. WWE’s two big moves in recruiting for the women’s division have been “sign women from MMA,” which gave us Baszler, and “sign women from Japan,” which gave us Sane. So in a sense this is a battle between those two approaches. The first time they met was in the finals of the 2017 Mae Young Classic, which Sane won. This time around, Baszler is being booked like a monster and Sane...isn’t, so this is probably gonna be pretty one-sided. Somebody has to stop Shayna, and I guess it could be Kairi but I wouldn’t count on it.

Adam Cole vs. Ricochet - This is for Cole’s North American championship. I would’ve assumed these two faced each other in a zillion matches outside WWE but profightdb.com only lists one singles match at EVOLVE in 2010. NXT is kinda light on top babyfaces so I’d probably get this belt onto Ricochet sooner rather than later. On the other hand it’s not real clear where Cole and the Undisputed Era group is headed, so anything’s possible. This is a real pick-’em.

Kyle O’Reilly & Roderick Strong vs. Tyler Bate & Trent Seven - O’Reilly and Strong briefly lost the NXT tag title to Moustache Mountain, but then won it back, so this is the rubber match. (The idea that the entire Undisputed Era faction collectively holds the championship seems to have been dropped.) It’s a tall order on a Takeover, but this match could steal the show. Given the movement to set up an NXT UK brand, presumably with its own tag team title, I wouldn’t count on Moustache Mountain sticking around here, so the chances of them winning this set of belts are kinda low.

EC3 vs. Velveteen Dream - EC3 was pretty much a tippy-top guy in Impact and is clearly being set up for main event level at NXT, so it looks like Dream is in the position of putting him over on his way to the top. The good news is that Dream has been doing that for a while and everyone’s been impressed with the results. I’d love to see Dream score an upset and acheive his potential soon, but I’m probably going to have to wait on that. EC3 for the win.

#nxt #takeover: brooklyn #johnny gargano #tommaso ciampa

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the-shield-of-infinity-writing · 7 years ago

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Losing a part of what you are: (Request)

Prompt: A Peter Parker imagine pls? His gf Y/N got kidnapped by Hydra.She is also like family to the rest of the avengers.They find her&bring her back.But shes not the same.When Steve found her she tried to attack him.Hydra put a false memory in her head where she things that Hydra is good&the avengers bad.When peter goes in the cell tony keeps her Y/N remembers him for a second&tells him to get out cause she doesnt want to hurt him. She attacked the others but not him. You can end it how you want--Anonymous

Note: Torture, memory lost, descriptive violence, no happy endings, Angst

Words: 1440

Requested by: Anonymous

“What! What do you mean (Y/N) was taking!!” Peter demanded to Tony who was suiting up to go with the others and get her from the Hydra base she had been taken to. “Peter stay here.” Tony said as Peter’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? (Y/N) is my girlfriend! I have to go after her!” He exclaimed when Tony stopped him by placing a gloved hand over Peter’s chest.

“And (Y/N) is my responsibility. Now do as I say and stay. Here.” Tony spoke sternly as Peter opened his mouth to protest before sighing as he flopped down onto the communal couch. “Fine.” He huffed angrily as Tony’s helmet came over his head. “Avengers move out.” He commanded before the roof opened up as he took off, leaving Peter at the complex alone. He was upset, but mostly worried for the love of his life as he glanced out the window, watching the Quinjet leave.

(Y/N) struggled against the bonds of the chair when she looked up to see an older man towering over her. “W-What do you want for me?” She asked as he smiled. “You are important to the Avengers. You are stronger than any of them, but you don’t show your full potential.” He explained as (Y/N) growled, struggling harder when they started connecting wires to her head.

“Get off me! Go away!” She cried when he gripped her by the hair and yanked back, holding her still as she hissed at the burning sensation from her scalp. Her eyes snapped shut when he finally let go of her hair as she panted softly, tears brimming her waterline. When she finally opened her eyes she looked to see the guy smirking down at her causing her to swallow. “Turn on the machine boys. She’s ready.” He said, taking a step back as fear consumed (Y/N)’s body.

Her hands were trembling as they gripped the metal chair tightly before this agonizing pain of what felt like her skull was being slowly ripped open and hot water was being pour over it. She let out a scream of pain as blood trickled down from her nose while her eyes snapped shut from the intense spasm through her brain. Suddenly she stopped moving altogether as she slumped in the chair when the agent stopped the machine.

“It is done.” He said to the older man who smirked down at her. “Excellent. Unlock her and we need to leave.” He said as they nod collecting their things before unlocking her from the chair. “The Avengers will be here in five minutes.” He said the older man who looked to him before looking to her. “Don’t worry. She’ll stop them long before they get to us.” He chuckled before they all went out the back entrance.

The moment they came out the Avengers kicked down the door and noticed (Y/N) sitting in the chair, unconscious. “Cap, get (Y/N).” Tony said detecting three lifesigns on his scanner. “Bucky, Natasha with me.” Tony said as Steve went up to her when suddenly a knife was shoved into his shoulder causing him to cry out. He was kicked backwards as he slammed heavily against the wall when everyone froze seeing the dark look in her eyes.

“Shit, what happened?” Tony asked. “It’s too late. They already broke her.” Bucky said before charging towards her as she jumped up onto the chair and flipped over him when he stopped her fist from hitting his side. Steve gripped the handle of the blade before ripping it from his shoulder as he growled softly in pain. “Tony, Clint and Natasha go after the others. Sam, Bucky and I will take care of (Y/N).” He said to them.

“But Steve--” Tony started to protest. “Go! Now!” He barked as the three went into action while Steve, Bucky, and Sam faced what use to be their friend. “You’ll all die!” She exclaims before kicking Bucky back against the chair when she turns and blocks Steve who tried to swing at her. They had been fighting for a good half an hour as Sam blocked her attacks.

“I can’t fight her. She’s just a kid!” He huffed as (Y/N) smirked. “You’re weak.” She said before breaking Sam’s arm at the elbow causing him to cry out. She was tackled to the floor by Steve as she struggled against him when he lifted up her head before snapping his eyes shut as it collided with the ground. Steve slumped before he panted for a moment, looking back to the other two who looked just as beaten as he felt. “Come on, we need to move her now.” He said as they nod.

The ride back on the Quinjet was quiet as Tony checked over her when he came to the front with the others. “She’s damaged… They took out all the good memories with us and implanted ones where we’re the bad guys. It’ll take me months before I figure out how to fix her.” He sighed softly slumping down into the pilot seat. “We can’t tell Peter.” Bucky said, sitting up. “He’ll find out eventually. He’s a smart kid.” Tony counters.

“Tony’s right, Bucky. We’ll just have to… put her in Loki’s old cell until we figure out something.” Steve explained. “So you’re going to keep her up like a caged animal?” Sam asked, frowning. “What else can we do Sam? If we let her out there she could kill a lot of people. She’s… She’s Hydra now.” Steve mumbled gripping the handles of the Quinjet. “It’ll be best for her to regain some things.” Bucky explained to him.

The rest of the ride home was in awkward silence. After they got back Steve, Bucky, and Natasha took (Y/N)’s unconscious form down to the holding cell. The moment the elevator opened to the communal room Peter shot off the couch and ran over to them. “Where’s (Y/N)? Is she okay?” He demanded almost immediately as Tony stepped out of the suit.

“Kid, calm down.” Tony placed his hands onto Peter’s shoulder when Peter quickly knocked them away. “Where. Is. (Y/N)?” He asked as Tony sighed softly. “You can’t see her right now Peter.” He murmured as Peter frowned. “What? Why not?” He asked causing Tony to wince. “Because she’s… She’s unstable.” Tony looked like he was questioning if he used the right wording. “Please Mr. Stark… I have to see her.” He said when Tony rubbed his temple for a moment.

“Alright, she’s downstairs in a holding cell until we figure out how to get rid of the Hydra implanted memories. Be caution Kid… She’s not the same person right now.” Tony explained, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder as Peter nods before running to the elevator. He had to see her, had to make sure that she was okay, because now he was terrified from what Tony just told him.

The doors to the elevator opened and Peter went down to the hallway, seeing Steve, Bucky, Nick, and Natasha all standing there together. “(Y/N).” Peter called as the four look to him. “Kid, wait. I think you shouldn’t see her right now.” Bucky said as he pushes past him. “Let him.” Nick said before anyone could stop him. He saw her in the cell, sitting with her head between her knees as he swallowed softly. “(Y-Y/N)?” He asked, placing his hand on the glass.

(Y/N) looked up with a murderous glare before her eyes immediately softened at the boy standing in front of her. Memories of them laughing together, kissing, holding hands, and everything flooded her mind as her eyes widened. “P-Peter?” She asked as they four at the doorway to the cells froze when they heard her call Peter’s name. “Yeah (Y/N), it’s me. Peter… Your boyfriend.” He gave her a dorkish grin when she smiled back before shaking her head.

“Peter, you need to leave. Like right now.” Her voice started to tremble as tears flooded her eyes. “What? No, I’m not going anywhere!” Peter snapped. “Please! I don’t want to hurt you! I attacked the others I--” She covered her ears and cried out as Steve and Bucky came down, grabbing Peter. “Stop! Let go of me! Please! Wait! (Y/N)!!” Peter cried out, feeling tears of his own trickling down his face as they dragged him towards the door when (Y/N) looked up at him with an expressionless face. “Hail Hydra.” She spat in a monotone before the shut, closing Peter off from the one he loved.

Permanent Tag: @kanupps06 @lehumbletrashcan @hortonhearsahoeblr @madamrubrum @tillielynn16 @ididntasktogetmadedidi @eliza-hamilton-helpless @archy3001 @inselaire @breezy1415 @tremendouslyelegantstrawberry @donttalktomewhenimreading @txcountrybelle @i-am-a-dragon @abbywro-blog @shayna-winchester @doctorcelina @impossiblepizzapeace @ek823

#Request #Losing a part of what you are #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x Reader #Peter Parker fanfiction #Peter Parker fic #Reader x Peter Parker #x Reader #Reader insert #Hydra!Reader #Captured by Hydra #Feels #Angst #Torture #No happy ending

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placetobenation · 4 years ago

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Friends. What are they good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again.

It seems like this could be the new theme song of the WWE these days. Sasha and Bayley. Alexa and Nikki. Peyton and Billie. Roman and Jey. Drake and Killian, Drew and Keith and I’m sure more to come.

Whether it be besties turned bad or friends of convenience or even family members not exactly on the same page, it seems like the WWE has super-sized the idea of friends becoming foes. It’s a time-honored tradition played out time and time again over wrestling history. Remember Bruno Sammartino vs. Larry Zybysko?

Let’s see how the WWE puts a new spin on things. What they do in the next few months, if done right, could be the stories we talk about in 30 years from now.

Clash of Champions – UPDATED CARD

WWE Championship Ambulance Match: Drew McIntyre vs. Randy Orton

WWE Universal Championship Match: Roman Reigns vs. Jey Uso

SmackDown Women’s Championship Match: Bayley vs. Nikki Cross

WWE Women’s Championship Match: Shayna Baszler and Nia Jax vs. The Riott Squad

SmackDown Tag Team Championship Match: Cesaro and Shinsuke Nakamura vs. Lucha House Party

WWE Intercontinental Championship Ladder Match: Jeff Hardy vs. AJ Styles vs. Sami Zayn

Star of the Week:

Roman Reigns, Jey USO & Paul Heyman – This feud has put Roman Reigns in a place that even Vince McMahon couldn’t have dreamed of when he was trying to shove a fan favorite Roman Reigns down the WWE Universe’s collective throats as champion. Roman is taking no prisoners, including his own flesh and blood, to claim what he thinks is his rightful spot atop the WWE, this time as Universal Champion. Taking down cousin Jey Uso should put the rest of the WWE on notice that no one is safe when they try to take what Reigns thinks is his and only his! And when you put the voice of Paul Heyman together with the forthright, directness and physicality of Reigns to back it up, it’s truly the cherry on top of the sundae. Watch the Samoan history video from SmackDown.

RAW

RESULTS

Champion vs. Champion Match: The Street Profits defeated Cesaro & Shinsuke Nakamura

Cedric Alexander defeated Ricochet

RAW Women’s Championship Match: Asuka defeated Mickie James (match stopped due to Mickie James injury)

Non-title United States Championship Match: Bobby Lashley defeated Erik

Steel Cage Match: Seth Rollins defeated Dominik Mysterio

Kevin Owens defeated Aleister Black

The Riott Squad defeated Natalya & Lana

Non-Title WWE Championship Match: Drew McIntyre vs. Keith Lee went to a no-contest when RETRIBUTION interfered

Loved it:

What a scene! A BRAWL has broken out on #WWERaw between the #HurtBusiness, RETRIBUTION, @DMcIntyreWWE & @RealKeithLee! pic.twitter.com/ApQc19ZFH8

— WWE (@WWE) September 15, 2020

RETRIBUTION – Now, we have a purpose and some depth. Not only did RETRIBUTION have some promo time, but they also left their mark all over the top of the WWE Universe. First, they take out WWE Champion Drew McIntyre and Keith Lee in the main event. Then, they get into with The Hurt Business to close the show. Let’s hope they keep it interesting with some creative plans. Honestly, I really thought Randy Orton was going to be in the middle of the ring when they attacked McIntyre & Lee in the main event, but I like the way they went with it instead. A good night for RETRIBUTION and a few weeks of aimless wandering. It also looks like RAW will be there home.

Zelina steps up – Well, well now! Not only did Zelina Vega tell Andrade & Angel Garza she’s had enough of them, but then she walks right into RAW Women’s Champion Asuka’s grill to challenge for her title. It’s something no one saw coming, so a cool swerve. Do I expect her to beat Asuka, no. But, wouldn’t it be fitting if Andrade and/or Garza try to get back in her good graces by trying to help her win the title? Or maybe, that will dig a deeper hole for one or both of them. Either way, it’s entertaining and a good hook.

Witness the aftermath from the #SteelCage encounter between @WWERollins & @35_Dominik on #WWERaw. pic.twitter.com/UPOh70KYua

— WWE (@WWE) September 15, 2020

Steel Cage Match – Lots of good physicality between Seth Rollins and Dominik Mysterio. The right guy won to hopefully end their feud. Now, it looks like we are on to Rollins vs. Murphy as they traded shots hitting each other with the cage door during and after the match. You have to wonder where Mysterio’s sister Aaliyah plays in all this as she went to check in on Murphy. Is it getting Murphy over to the good side or can Murphy stay true to Rollins and try to get sis over to the Monday Night Messiah? Hmmmm….

THAT'S GOTTA BE @BraunStrowman! Looks like #RawUnderground has a new addition tonight on #WWERaw! pic.twitter.com/9mEC7un4vm

— WWE (@WWE) September 15, 2020

Braun destroys RAW Underground – Sure, it makes no sense that now we’re getting SmackDown stars each week on RAW when the rules only say once a quarter, but the WWE has never been about following their own rules. Make it up as they go, right? Either way, having Braun Strowman destroy everyone in the Underground and promise to come back next week is good for the show. It’s better than the middle-ground we were seeing on SmackDown lately with The Fiend, who now has Roman Reigns to play with.

Solid:

Cedric Alexander – There’s no getting out of the athleticism of Alexander. Plus, putting him in the ring with Ricochet is always a good match. Now, he’s good some personality to go with it as a member of The Hurt Business.

The Riott Squad – Makes sense to give them a win heading into their Clash of Champions Title match with Nia Jax & Shayna Baszler. Poor Natalya & Lana, maybe her going through a table is retribution for the third-party social media chaos.

Owens vs. Black – This feud would be greatly enhanced with a crowd I think. Right now, it just seems like filler, but it’s action packed in the ring, so no harm, no foul in this crazy pandemic World. Plus, a little social media rib from Black saying Owens might be part of RETRIBUTION. Interesting.

Odd:

It is absolute CHAOS on #WWERaw! pic.twitter.com/BM9hOhXxwm

— WWE (@WWE) September 15, 2020

Lee vs. McIntyre – Maybe it’s me, but the Keith Lee I found as likeable in NXT is coming off a bit gruff on RAW. McIntyre and Lee seemed awkward at times in their back-and-forth going into the main event and of course, immediately went to blows. I did like them teaming up to fly over the top rope to fight off RETRIBUTION though. That was some good stuff right there! I’m just not sure where Lee is headed though.

NXT

RESULTS

Non-title NXT Women’s Championship Match: Io Shirai defeated Shotzi Blackheart

Tommaso Ciampa defeated Desmond Troy (the former Denzel Dejournette)

Kushida defeated Austin Theory

NXT Tag Team Championship Match: Breezango defeated Imperium to retain titles

Kacy Catanzaro & Kayden Carter defeated Xia Lia & Jessi Kamea

LOVED IT:

Gauntlet Eliminator Match – Thank you William Regal! Instead of defaulting to another multi-man #1 Contender Match for Finn Balor’s NXT Championship, we get an exciting, unique new concept. Next week, we get the first ever Gauntlet Eliminator Match to see who will face Balor at the next NXT TakeOver in October. It’s kind of like the Royal Rumble where two men start the match. Every four minutes, we get a new entrant until all five men are in the ring. Last one left faces Balor. Love the idea and can’t wait to see how it plays out. Now we just need to know who’s in it.

Respect was indeed 𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑫. #WWENXT @ShotziWWE @shirai_io pic.twitter.com/hXUk1gVQ3l

— WWE (@WWE) September 17, 2020

Io vs. Shotzi – I make no bones about it that I’m a Shotzi Blackheart admirer. Good showing against the champ here in the opening match. But too much Io Shirai here who finishes off Blackheart with a missile dropkick and top rope moonsault. Wouldn’t be shocked if we see this again down the road for the Championship. Maybe Shotzi takes home the #1 Contenders Battle Royale next week?

Kushida – I’m diggin’ the new attitude. He’s a badass and looking to take over. A tremendous upgrade.

Still the Champs:

Breezango – There definitely more than just the Fashion Police. There the cream of the crop in the tag team division. They keep us entertained outside the ring and more than satisfied in the ring. Tyler Breeze and Fandango get a shout out and it’s more than just a pelvic thrust from Wade Barrett.

@ArcherOfInfamy #AndStill #LiveForever #WWENXT #NXTNATitle pic.twitter.com/GjTUewPJ2O

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) September 17, 2020

Damian Priest – Honestly, I was expecting much from the main event with Priest defending his NXT North American Championship against Timothy Thatcher, but I was impressed. It overdelivered and both men won me over with a very good match. Props to Priest for his first successful title defense!

Not so friendly:

Soooooo… this pin just blew our minds.

#TeamNinja @KacyCatanzaro & @wwekayden defeat @JessiKameaWWE & @XiaWWE in UNIQUE fashion on #WWENXT on @USA_Network! pic.twitter.com/xVHf4Wggl7

— WWE (@WWE) September 17, 2020

The ladies – Kacy Catanzaro & Kayden Carter showed a good sign of friendly respect to Jessi Kamea & Xia Li after beating them in their tag match. Yet, Li wasn’t so willing to bump fists. Looks like we got ourselves something to look out for in next week’s Battle Royale.

You're just gonna sit there, @KillianDain?!?! #WWENXT @WWEMaverick pic.twitter.com/eI8sLEBj0v

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) September 17, 2020

Drake & Dain – They’ve never been friends, yet found themselves fighting The Undisputed Era Wednesday night. Well, that was until Dain said he wasn’t showing up. When Dain did show up, TUE insulted him and actually got his team a win via DQ when TUE brought in a chair. And to celebrate, Dain drops Drake with a solid punch to the face. Great line by Barrett: “Friends don’t punch each other in the face every time you see them.” Classic!

SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

Cesaro defeated Gran Metalik

Nikki Cross defeated Lacey Evans

AJ Styles defeated Sami Zayn

Samoan Street Fight: Roman Reigns & Jey Uso defeated Sheamus & King Corbin

LOVED IT:

.@AlexaBliss_WWE just got that 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 in her eyes again! #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/q3sbzUVhWL

— WWE (@WWE) September 19, 2020

Alexa Bliss – Yes, I’ve been a Miss Bliss fan for years now. But I love the straddling of the good vs. evil line of being Nikki Cross’ best friend and everyone’s darling put up against being possessed by The Fiend. She’s playing it well. Plus, how could you not like a Miss Bliss kiss and Sister Abigail.

"You are NOTHING without me." #SmackDown @SashaBanksWWE @itsBayleyWWE pic.twitter.com/z6xlR0rWOg

— WWE (@WWE) September 19, 2020

What did @itsBayleyWWE just do?!?!#SmackDown @SashaBanksWWE pic.twitter.com/CnIMEdwhBP

— WWE (@WWE) September 19, 2020

Sasha Banks & Bayley – It’s what we’ve come to expect from Sasha Banks. Everything is gold. In her first interview since being attacked by BFF Bayley, Banks put down the gauntlet that she’ll take the SmackDown title from Bayley and that her bestie was NOTHING without her. So how does Bayley react? By hunting her down at the WWE Performance Center. Touché!

Can you say ladder? – Even though we all knew it would come to this, it’s still going to be amazing. Jeff Hardy vs. AJ Styles vs. Sami Zayn for the IC Title in a ladder match at Clash of Champions! Pretty good heel vs. heel match too with Styles going over Zayn.

"YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?!?!" #SmackDown @WWEBigE pic.twitter.com/hW8ZhCBF9n

— WWE (@WWE) September 19, 2020

Big E’s not playing – Revenge is mine says Big E as he attacks the security member who set him up for the Sheamus attack a few weeks ago. Damn, all this superstar on car violence is sure to be costly. Vince sure does love to destroy his cars! I’d love to see the line item in the WWE budget for replacing all the busted vehicles over the years.

With another tag team victory under their belt, will it continue to be all smiles between @WWERomanReigns and Jey @WWEUsos heading into #WWEClash? #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/5FKk3eSTAE

— WWE (@WWE) September 19, 2020

Yo’ cuz – As you’ve seen from our star of the week, it’s another banner week of storytelling from your main event on SmackDown. Sure, the Samoan Street Fight wasn’t anything earth shattering in terms of a match, but the story of Roman vs. Jey, cousin vs. cousin remains the best thing going. Reality is king and the WWE is using it to its fullest. The little nuances make all the difference. From the smiles to the daggers that Reigns sent Uso’s way at the end of the show, you could feel the temperature in the room drop 50 degrees.

No sense:

Lucha House Party – Why exactly are we pushing the trio only to try to rip them apart? Having Kalisto and El Dorado criticizing Gran Metalik during his match with Cesaro is ridiculous. No one, and I repeat, no one wants to see that feud, especially when you’re trying to push them with a title shot at Clash of Champions.

Lacey Evans – Why do they continue to waste her talents with the same ol’ catchphrases and losing matches? Evans could be a dominating force in the WWE if they just gave her a chance. BTW, in this pandemic World, I’m shocked the sanitizer hasn’t become a finishing move.

Wasted:

The Dirt Sheet – Did we really need to waste 10 minutes of talk just to see Otis rip off The Miz’ clothes? I did not. You know what else we don’t need? A lawsuit.

Parting shots:

RIP Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Legend. Icon. Inspiration. And yes, all around badass. Regardless of your political bias, you have to admire her spirit, her fight and her life. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends.

Coming Up This Week:

RAW: RAW Tag Team Championship #1 Contenders Match: Dominik Mysterio & Humberto Carrillo vs. Seth Rollins & Murphy vs. Andrade & Angel Garza. RAW Underground: Braun Strowman vs. Dabba Kato Drew McIntyre vs. Keith Lee – if Lee wins, he could replace Randy Orton at Clash of Champions

NEXT WEDNESDAY at 8/7c on @USA_Network: There will be a No. 1 Contender #BattleRoyal to determine who will challenge @shirai_io for the #WWENXT #WomensTitle! pic.twitter.com/2ElVrzJynU

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) September 17, 2020

NXT: Gauntlet Eliminator NXT #1 Contender Match – Kushida vs. Cameron Grimes vs. ? vs. ? vs. ? NXT Women’s Championship #1 Contender Battle Royale Tommaso Ciampa vs. Jake Atlas

#WWENXT's roster is too stacked to do a regular No. 1 Contender's match for @FinnBalor's #NXTTitle. Let @RealKingRegal present to you the FIRST-EVER #GauntletEliminator Match: pic.twitter.com/1YSXMxS6I5

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) September 17, 2020

SMACKDOWN: TBD

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at [email protected]. We’d love to hear your comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics and Bruins fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND

#IFTTT #Place to Be Nation

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wallpaperpainter · 4 years ago

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Waterfall Landscape Painting Will Be A Thing Of The Past And Here’s Why | Waterfall Landscape Painting

Western Mass waterfalls

Shayna Seymour takes a aback alley circuit through the acropolis towns west of North Hampton to Chapel Falls. After, she motors out to North Adams, home to the Hudson Brook Chasm.

Updated: 8:10 PM EDT Jun 8, 2020

Hide Transcript Show Transcript

CHAPEL FALLS. THAT’S WHE WE MEET AN ARTIST CATCHING WAVES. >> NEXT UP ON OUR WATERFALL ROAD TRIP, DESTINATION, THE VILLAGE OF ASHFIELD. HOME OF CHAPEL FALLS. >> CHAPEL FALLS, ANOTHER PROPERTY IS A COLLECTION OF THREE DROPS TOTALING 45 FEET. >> THIS ONE IS BEAUTIFUL. IT’S THE FIRST TIME I’M HERE. >> HERE WE RUN INTO THE FINE ART LANDSCAPE OFFER. LIKE MANY PHOTOGRAPHER BEFORE HIM HE’S BEEN SEDUCED BY THE POETRY OF MOTIO HE FINDS IN WATERFALLS. >> I PREFER A LONG EXPOSURE, SILK WATER EFFECTS THAT MAKES IT MORE CALMING, PLEASING, MORE MYSTICAL. >> HE SAYS ONE DOESN’T NEED A SUPER FANCY CAMERA TO CREATE BEAUTIFUL WATERFALL SHOTS. >> PERSONALLY, I TOOK SOME GREAT PICTURES WITH A POINT AND SHOOT WHEN I STARTED OUT. >> AND ALTHOUGH SUNSHINE CAN MAKE FOR SOME INTERESTING LIGHT EFFECTS, OVERCAST SKIES ARE A BETTER BET FOR MAKING QUALITY SHOTS. >> IT’S A TOSS-UP IN. REALITY, YOU JUST WANT T GET OUT AND TAKE PICTURES. >> MANY A WATERFALL WARRIOR WILL MAKE WEEKEND OF IT. OF COURSE, BACKCOUNTRY ISN’T EXACTLY HOTEL CENTER. FOR AN INTRIGUING OPTION, AVAILABLE IF THEY KEEP AN OPEN MIND. >> WE BECOME A DESTINATION. WE’RE NOT A STOP ON THE WAY. THEY ARE COMING HERE TO GO HERE. >> THE HOUSE, TOTALLY SCREENED IN, NO ELECTRICITY, WITH A BATHROOM,

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theartofbeinganerd · 7 years ago

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Haha so guess who was too tired to write tonight? That’s right, it’s me, so instead, here’s a fic I wrote sometime during the Season 3 mid-season hiatus, set sometime after 3x10.

(Ao3)

After sleeping through her alarm and therefore getting a late start to the day, Jemma was hurrying down the hall to the lab, an apology to Fitz already forming on her lips. They’d planned to work on a new project Coulson had assigned them the day before first thing, and normally Jemma wouldn’t be worried about being late because Fitz almost always was, but he’d apparently broken that habit during the months she’d been gone and at times, he even got to work in the lab earlier than she did.

“Jemma! Hey!” Daisy called as she passed, rushing to catch up with her. “I was just looking for you – I wanted to ask you something.”

Jemma bit back a frustrated groan, throwing a longing glance at the entrance to the lab, mere meters away, before pausing and turning to Daisy with a tired smile. “Yes, what is it?”

Daisy rocked back on her heels, pursing her lips and letting out a sigh. “Okay, so Lincoln and I were supposed to go on that double date with Bobbi and Hunter, right?”

“And you were very excited about it,” Jemma remembered, nodding in understanding. “What happened?”

“Well, Hunter just got back from a mission for Coulson, and I heard him and Bobbi screaming at each other in the locker room about something.” She groaned, bringing up a hand to cover her eyes. “So, I think the date is a no-go, and I don’t want things to be super awkward with Lincoln – like this is still so new for us, so…” She dropped her hand, giving Jemma a hopeful look. “I was wondering if you’d want to come along? There’ll be free food and a movie, and the awkward tension between a new couple – what can beat that?”

Jemma chewed her lip as she wrung her hands together, thinking over Daisy’s plea. Hanging out with Daisy and Lincoln and watching them flirt and couple-out wasn’t exactly what she wanted just then, but on the other hand, she knew how hard Daisy’s love life (and life in general, really) had been and just wanted her to be happy. So, if being the third wheel on their first date was what she needed, then Jemma would be there for her, regardless of how she felt about it. “Of course I’ll come along. I suppose I could use an excuse to have a life outside the lab.”

Daisy let out an excited squeal, throwing her arms around Jemma in a quick but sincere hug. “Thank you so much! This is gonna be great! Meet us in the hangar at six-thirty, okay?”

“Alright,” Jemma agreed, giving Daisy a small smile and wave before she continued on her way to the lab. As soon as she was through the door, she noticed Fitz hunched over at his desk, working intently on some project, and the apology she’d prepared burst forth. “Fitz! I’m so sorry, I slept late, which you know is so unlike me, and then Daisy stopped me in the hall, but –”

“’S’fine,” Fitz interrupted, giving a careless shrug and setting aside what he’d been working on. “No problem.”

And just like that, Jemma was reminded of why she’d spent the night tossing and turning, leading to her oversleeping that morning. Obsessing over the way Fitz held himself away from her, over how impossible fixing their relationship seemed, over how much she just wanted to stride up to him and claim his lips like he’d done to her so many weeks ago – it’d been a near constant of her daily life for so long now, but she still hadn’t gotten any closer to a solution and it was driving her mad.

But, with no clear answers yet again, Jemma just forced a cheery smile and nodded. “Let’s get to work, then.”

That night, at six-thirty on the dot, Jemma entered the hangar, feeling odd and out of place in her nice evening wear, rather than the simple shirts and cardigans she’d been wearing around the base since she’d returned. She spotted Daisy and Lincoln by one of the nondescript black SUVs, and began heading over, a wide smile already affixed to her lips.

But, both her step and her smile faltered when someone else appeared around the side of the SUV to speak to the other two, a grumpy look on his face and his hands shoved into his pockets.

Jemma’s first thought was to flee, and her gaze shot to the hangar door behind her as she calculated the likelihood of being able to make her escape before anyone noticed her.

All her hopes were dashed when Daisy started waving her arms frantically and calling out to her, gesturing for her to come join them. Jemma took a couple automatic steps in response, but then she noticed the huge smile on Daisy’s face and it all suddenly made sense – they’d been set up. That was why Jemma had seen the bewildering sight of Hunter and Bobbi looking cozy and not at all at odds in the common area earlier, and that was why Daisy had carefully left out the fact that it wouldn’t be just Jemma joining them tonight. Because they’d been set up.

Even as her heart began to race and her palms began to sweat with nerves, Jemma felt a wash of gratitude for her (other) best friend, who had somehow picked up on the problems plaguing her and set to helping her fix them. Though she would rather have not been left in the dark about it, she was completely grateful for the opportunity.

Replacing her former faux smile with a much more genuine one, Jemma continued on her way over, ignoring the betrayed look Fitz was shooting at Daisy. “Even being on time, I’m the last one here. I hope I’m not making a habit of being late.”

Daisy chuckled, throwing an exaggerated wink at Jemma. “The only time you’ve got to be worried about being late is when it’s your period, Jemma.” With that, she and Lincoln disappeared around their respective sides of the SUV, the sound of doors opening and closing following.

Rolling her eyes at Daisy’s ill-humored joke, Jemma moved to open her own door, but paused when she saw Fitz still standing rigidly near the back of the car. “Fitz?” she called, frowning when he didn’t even look up to acknowledge that he’d heard her. “Are you coming?”

He gave an audible sigh, his shoulders slumping, but he moved regardless, going around the car to open his door and get in. Jemma followed, trying not to let their close proximity and the heat she could feel coming off of him get to her. However, cramped together in the back seat as they were, she could smell the new cologne he’d taken to wearing and it was making it difficult for her to focus. All she could think of was the last time she’d been close enough to smell said cologne, and with that sensory memory came another – the taste of his lips, hungry and desperate against her own.

Taking a deep, calming breath through her nose and letting it out through her mouth, Jemma let her eyes slip briefly closed as she forced herself not to get caught up in thinking about kissing Fitz yet again. It didn’t work quite right, and when she reopened her eyes, all she could think about was reaching over the scant space between them to rest her hand over Fitz’s, lacing their fingers together and holding onto him for dear life. She never wanted to let him go again.

It wasn’t too long before they arrived at the restaurant, and Jemma bit back a smile when Lincoln rushed to pull out the chair for a surprised Daisy. As such, she barely noticed that her own chair had been pulled out until it was too late and Fitz was already sitting, his gaze studiously focused on his menu. Fighting the urge to sigh in frustration, she sat down and picked up her own menu, blocking out the sound of Daisy and Lincoln discussing the different options.

After they’d ordered and were waiting for their food, Daisy struck up a conversation in an attempt to include Fitz and Jemma as well, and somehow got on the subject of Jemma’s failed attempt at sneaking around at the Hub what seemed like lifetimes ago now.

Smirking from ear to ear, Daisy regaled an amused Lincoln, a mortified Jemma, and an impassive Fitz with the tale, stopping every now and then when she couldn’t speak she was laughing so hard. “And then,” she went on, shaking her head and snickering into her hand, “she told him that he had a gorgeous head!”

“I was under pressure and had had no time to prepare!” Jemma defended herself, covering her blush-warmed neck with her hands. “I’d like to have seen you do better!”

“Wait wait wait, I haven’t gotten to the best part yet,” Daisy insisted, ignoring Jemma completely and flapping her hand excitedly. “When he wasn’t falling for it, Jemma shot him with the Night-Night Gun! And she thought she’d actually done alright!”

Lincoln shot a grin at Jemma, chuckling along with Daisy’s near-hysterical laughter. “Wow. And I didn’t think there was anything worse than my attempts to fly under the radar.”

Jemma sighed, giving him a small smile. “I suppose there’s not much worse than my lack of lying skills before I went undercover.”

Daisy was still trying to get her laughter under control, now with the aid of Lincoln, so Jemma focused on Fitz, who hadn’t spoken or reacted at all during Daisy’s story. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and felt a wave of relief at the sight of the tiniest of smiles quirking his lips.

Dinner startlingly passed without Daisy making any more attempts to embarrass anyone, and they left the restaurant to walk the short distance to the theater. Daisy and Lincoln ended up a bit ahead of Fitz and Jemma on the sidewalk, hands linked between them. Jemma was once more hit with the all-consuming urge to reach for Fitz’s hand, but not only was it hidden in his pocket, she had no idea how he’d react to such an advance.

With a resigned sigh, Jemma tucked her hands into the sleeves of her thin cardigan and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep out the sudden cold emptiness that she felt.

A sharp gasp left her lips moments later when she quite abruptly found herself with Fitz’s arm draped over her shoulders, pressing her against his side. He was as warm as ever, and paired with the reemergence of Jemma’s desperate hope, she quickly went from freezing to toasty warm, inside and out.

“You looked cold,” Fitz muttered, giving a shrug and keeping his eyes focused ahead of him. Jemma wished that he would just look at her, but figured that she’d take what she could get for now.

“Thank you,” she murmured in response, feeling brave enough to rest her head on his shoulder. He tensed a bit, but didn’t protest, so she didn’t bother to move from the new position. For some reason, she was feeling irrationally giddy at the idea that anyone passing them just then would assume that they were a couple, having a romantic night out.

Of course, that just served to remind her that they weren’t couple, nor were they having a romantic night out. But, she stubbornly refused to dwell on that, and rather focus instead on making it true.

At the theater, Lincoln and Fitz went to get the tickets while Daisy dragged Jemma with her to concessions. Once she was sure the guys weren’t close enough to overhear, Jemma asked Daisy pointedly, “How long have you been planning this, then?”

Daisy gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Don’t you remember? I talked to Bobbi and Hunter about it a couple of weeks ago.”

Jemma planted her hands on her hips, shooting Daisy a dry look in lieu of a verbal response.

“Okay, fine. I was planning on doubling with Bobbi and Hunter, but then I saw you giving Fitz heart eyes and him ignoring the hell out of them, so I talked to Bobbi, who was one hundred percent on board – maybe even a hundred and ten, who knows? Lincoln was a little confused by the sudden change, but I explained it to him, and I think he’s just going with it, but still. Anyway, how are things going?”

Jemma scoffed, shaking her head in exasperation. “Fitz has mastered the art of pretending there’s nothing between us – I don’t think one night on a forced date will change that. But, thank you for trying, Daisy.”

Daisy didn’t seem to be off put by Jemma’s words, a determined look on her face. “We’ll see about that,” she replied cryptically as she turned to order popcorn and candy, even though they’d just eaten.

Fitz and Lincoln met them in the lobby, and they went into the theater together, Jemma ending up seated between Fitz and Daisy. Daisy had ordered two tubs of popcorn to share, and she and Lincoln had claimed one, leaving the other for Jemma and Fitz. She offered it to him, and he muttered a thanks, taking a handful as his gaze never leaving the previews playing on the giant screen.

She could hear Daisy giggling beside her, and a quick glance over showed that both she and Lincoln had reached for popcorn at the same time, accidentally touching hands, and were now gazing at each other with huge smiles.

Sighing, Jemma slouched a bit in her seat, settling in for what would no doubt be the longest movie of her life.

Fortunately, the movie Daisy had chosen ahead of time was of the action/adventure genre, and was not some sickeningly sweet romance movie that Jemma normally had a secret love for, but would make everything uncomfortable at the present time. Unfortunately, however, about midway through, the protagonist and her love interest came to the height of the romantic tension between them, and the music swelled throughout the theater as he pressed her up against the wall, planting an unexpected but passionate kiss on her lips.

Jemma was hit with the vivid memory of experiencing something incredibly similar with the man beside her, and had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from reaching for him. The kiss on the screen was going much longer than theirs had – not cut far too short by one of them breaking it and claiming that they were cursed, go figure. Then, the scenery changed, the couple was suddenly flopping onto a bed, and moans, along with declarations of lust and love, poured out of the surround sound.

Unconsciously, Jemma shot a glance at Fitz, and even in the darkened theater, she could see the tense set to his jaw and shoulders, as though he too was keeping himself from grabbing her and reenacting the intense love scene. But, to Jemma’s extreme disappointment, he didn’t, and soon the movie was back to its fast-paced action plot.

All too soon, it was over and they were heading back to the base, Daisy and Lincoln discussing the movie, and Jemma joined in here and there, if only to break the awkward silence that seemed to linger in the backseat alone. When they arrived back in the hangar, Lincoln and Daisy left hand-in-hand, but not before she threw a wink back over her shoulder at them.

Jemma, left alone with Fitz for the first time all night, opened her mouth to say something – anything – but Fitz spoke first, mumbling a good night as he moved quickly toward the entrance back into the base. However, she was having none of that, and stalked after him, grasping his arm to slow him down. “Fitz!”

His shoulders rose and fell on a deep sigh, and without turning around, he asked, “What?”

Feeling her frustration from the past few weeks bubbling over, Jemma snapped, “Would you please just look at me? Can you pretend for a moment that I’m not such a terrible sight so that we can have an actual conversation?”

Abruptly, Fitz whirled to face her, his blue eyes blazing. “What? What do you want from me, Jemma?”

Jemma threw up her hands in exasperation. “I want to know why spending time with me is suddenly the worst thing you can imagine, why you can’t even bother to look at me, why you’re acting like we’re barely even friends, let alone…” Losing a bit of steam, she trailed off, unsure how to end that sentence.

“You want to know why?” Fitz clenched his jaw, and she noticed his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Because spending time with you is torture, Jemma. Even just looking at you…it’s…it’s just easier to pretend that it’s not tearing me up inside. If I pretend that you’re just another colleague then I’m not thinking about how much it kills me what we could’ve had, how much I –” He cut himself off, pressing his lips into a thin line and glaring down at the ground between them.

Jemma was aghast at what he’d revealed during his outburst, slowly shaking her head as she absorbed the obvious meaning behind them. “Fitz…when did…when did anyone say that you had to pretend that there was nothing between us? When did we decide that what we can have became what we could’ve had?”

Fitz raised his head to shoot her an incredulous look. “I think you know, Jemma.”

Her frustration was rising to dangerous levels once more, and she took a deep breath to attempt to calm herself before she told him slowly, carefully, and in no uncertain terms, “I needed time to mourn, to deal with my guilt, and to figure out my rather confused emotions, yes. But, now? For weeks I’ve known what I want, and I’ve been attempting to make it clear, but I suppose I haven’t been clear enough. Allow me to try again. Fitz, all along, it’s been you. You’re the one I want, the one I’ll always want – my first choice, and I now understand, the only choice for me. Nothing else will make me happy, no matter how hard I pretend. I’m very much in love with you and I’d appreciate it if you stopped pretending that you don’t feel the same and instead focus your energies on kissing me breathless. Preferably multiple times a day for the rest of our lives.”

He was gaping at her for most of her long-winded confession, jaw slack with disbelief. By the time she’d finished, he’d moved onto rapid blinking, and it looked a bit like he was trying to keep tears at bay. Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak, but ended up clearing his throat again before he managed, “Jemma, I… Are you sure?”

Jemma let out a startled laugh, stunned by the fact that he even had to ask after everything she’d just said. However, this was Fitz, so she stepped into him, grasping the front of his shirt in her hands and going up onto the tips of her toes to press her forehead against his. “Yes. I’m very, very sure, Fitz.”

He swallowed audibly, nodding a bit dumbly before he blinked and blurted out, “God Jem, I love you too. I love you so much – more than anything. You’re the only that could ever make me happy too, you know that, right?”

Beaming, Jemma slid her hands up and over his shoulders, linking them behind his head as she brushed her nose against his. “I had a suspicion. Now, about the other part?”

“The kissing part?” Fitz asked, a sly smirk playing around his lips.

“That’s the one.”

“What about it?”

Biting her lip, Jemma felt a swell of heat low in her stomach when his gaze immediately dropped to watch the action. “Well, now seems like a good a time as any to get started on it, wouldn’t you say?”

Rather than reply verbally, Fitz swooped down to capture her lips, just as she’d hoped he would. She smiled against his lips as his hands came up to rest against her back, pressing her closer to him and further into his embrace.

When they eventually parted a long moment later, Jemma took a step back, grasping one of Fitz’s hands in hers and tugging on it as she took another step in the direction of the hangar door, an eyebrow arched in a silent question. Fitz’s astonished expression only lasted for seconds, then he was leading the way toward the bunks, a willing and eager Jemma trailing along behind him.

The next morning, when Jemma was once more late to the lab, it was with a huge and satisfied grin on her face, Fitz following not far behind her.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #shayna's one shot collection #season 3 #season 3 au #background static quake #and huntingbird #double dates #there's way less angst than canon #but that's not hard to do tbh

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sailorrrvenus · 6 years ago

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Creating a Century of Portraits in My Living Room

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For the last 12 months, I have been working on a personal photo project. The goal of this project was to recreate a portrait from every decade from the 1920s until now. Each picture would highlight the candid life of someone who was living in that era versus what they were really feeling inside. I called this project a “Century of Portraits.”

This series traces the tropes of America’s decades from the Great Depression to the depression elicited by the omnipresence of and addiction to smartphones today. Every moment in time contains a story deeper than solely what is visible, which is contrasted in the series’ side-by-side shots. The series is not hopeful, not glistening; it is down to earth, real, and mundane. The series is not larger-than-life because it is life itself.

1920s: Epitomized by the aftermath of WW I, she waits for her husband to return to her and their two children. He does not return.

1930s: Color taints movement, taints power, taints talent. He moves, he dreams, he plays; he is still not enough, is less than, is not as talented as.

1940s: Dressing up for a lofty accounting job that doesn’t exist, he wonders when his time will finally come.

1950s: She keeps the house neat, the kids fed, and the husband happy. In her depression, she imagines a different life and only the glare of the TV brings her solace.

1960s: The reality of the war in Vietnam sets in at home when he is drafted and he is motivated to reject the national military complex and war through protest.

1970s: In midst of pivotal political events, a college student sits in his room, neglecting what’s happening around him and thinks to himself: “politics don’t affect me.”

1980s: A yuppie moves to the city confident and with his prospects on the rise; his future and his smile is bright as day.

1990s: A new era in music ushers more inclusive and more diverse artists and beats, but headphones cannot tune out the exclusive realities still faced by people of color.

2000s: Video games are his release and his escape from the world. He realizes that video games are not his escape from the world, they have become his world.

2010s: A perfect filtered life on display masks a shallow depression and darkness. But the very enabler, the phone, is an addiction held close to the heart even when there is #nofilter.

Behind the Scenes

When starting this project, the scope of it and the work that it entailed seemed like a daunting task, and it was. The only thing I had available to me was an 8x8ft living room, a clear vision, and a team of people who made it possible.

Lighting

For this project, I used a wide range of lighting, from continuous lights to strobes. Each image was carefully crafted to reflect the mood of that time period. Whether that be hard light or soft, focused light or ambient fill. The light in each shot was made using specular modifiers only, to sculpt the face and keep it consistent throughout.

Camera

Keeping consistency in mind, I shot the entire project on a Canon 5D Mark III and paired it with a Sigma 35mm f/1.4 ART lens. This combination gave me reliable results and portrayed the environment in the best way.

Set Design

During the duration of this project, I took nearly 12,000 pictures and narrowed it down to just 20. In the final pictures I chose to display, each image played its own unique role in making a coherent body of work. Since I come from a filmmaking background, I wanted to bring that previous knowledge into this work.

Throughout my filmmaking career, I followed the mese on scene phenomenon quite adamantly. When following this theory, It ensures that everything in the frame has a purpose. Before embarking on this project, the majority of my work were headshots, but this time when I focused on the bigger picture, it forced me to pay attention to every minuscule detail and determine if it was enhancing it or taking away from it.

In this behind the scenes video see a glimpse into how we made the pictures in this series possible. The video shows my team transforming my living room into a scene from the 1920s:

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Closing Thoughts

After pouring so much much time and energy into this project, there were a few things I realized. Most importantly, the success of a project is not about how you fail, but how you pick yourself up and push through it. So many times I wanted to throw in the towel because the goal just seemed so out of reach, but each image I took and each shoot I completed, it brought me one step closer to completing the project.

When I took the last photo in the series, I was overflowed with emotion; a sense of accomplishment, sadness, overwhelming joy. At the end of the day, I was fortunate to walk away with a body of work I can now present with the world. It is from this project that I was able to discover my voice in my art.

After a year of this project sitting on my computer, collecting dust, I am premiering the project and releasing the images publicly for the first time. It is an honor to share it here with you all. I can’t thank all of the people who made this project possible and am so privileged to have worked with all of you!

So the next time you are in a creative rut, pick up your camera and shoot. Ask questions later.

About the author: Eli Dreyfuss is a photographer, filmmaker, and artist. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. You can find more of Dreyfuss’ work on his website, Instagram, and YouTube.

Credits: Creative Director: Eli Dreyfuss. Assistants: Markus Cohn, Haiden Hill, Roberto Benepaste, Elisheva Phillips, Sage Picetti, Selethel Plotkin. Makeup: Shayna Plotkin. Models: Alison Liquori, Sage Picetti, Elishevva Phillips, Elyssa Jerome, Naomi Bluth, Victor Andrew, Eduard Gilles, Jonah Keehn

source https://petapixel.com/2018/11/20/creating-a-century-of-portraits-in-my-living-room/

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pauldeckerus · 6 years ago