#this was meant to be lazily colored doodles

[i-m-a-gin-e]

Loneliness

BTS FANFIC

I was sat at the front of Literature last lesson of the day, while Mrs. Roberts was at the front teaching something about poems, I already knew what she was talking about, so I stared out the window instead, watching as the autumn leaves drifted to the ground effortlessly, some together like they were in a dance. Some alone, just like I was.

I looked at the seat next to me the extremely vandalized chair, with various insults on it; a few swear words and copious amounts of names that had been engraved into it on it over time. I sighed and shook my head, turning my head to the window once again. My pen wondered aimlessly around the blank page in my notepad.

Well, it wasn't so blank anymore, I'd been scribbling in it for over an hour now and my doodles were starting to overlap. I was never like his, not paying attention in Literature, but ever since the new guy, Kim Nam Joon came to school in September, I hadn't been able to concentrate. For five months, he hadn't noticed me, and the only words he's ever spoke to me were, "move", in the hall. No please after it or even a thank you, just a stiff "move", and if you didn't, you'd get shoved a make him even more impatient for the next person.

Just before the bell was about to go, the teacher reminded us about the creative poem that was personal to us that had to be in tomorrow, before the weekend started and I'd have to put up with where in reverse, so instead of having Literature last, we'd have it first and I'd have to put up with giggling teenagers for rest of the day, s they murmur freak, or some other mean word behind my back. They even question how I live my life; though my parent is easily capable with providing me I don't want extravagance. I sighed as I packed my stuff away and stood, just as the bell went.

I got to my locker and shoved all my books into my bag and walked as fast as I could to my car. it was Porsche 911 which is a deep blue in color that matched my eyes.

I threw my bag into the passenger seat and closed my door. I looked out the window, while unconsciously fingering the control for the entire window to roll down, one is resting lazily over the steering wheel as I gazed out the window, while Nam Joon said good-bye to his friend- Jimin and Elizabeth, they were at least nice to me- and got in his shiny and sleek black Lamborghini, with the license plate saying R4PM0N, which I'm guessing was meant to be Kim, if you replaced the 4 with an A and the 0 with an O.

I watched longingly as he pulled away, music blasting from his stereo, I saw Lizabeth and Jimin looking at my direction of my mirror as I put the car in forward and drove. I paid no attention to them to let them know they had been spotted. I drove home in a daze, made myself dinner, while shouting my hello's into my mother's studio and then going up to my room to finish the poem off. Tomorrow is going to be bad enough, without me making fool of myself because the poem as wrong.

I worked on it all night and into the early morning, snaking on chocolate without noticing, just to keep my stomach at bay. But then again, what girl could resist the temptation of chocolate. Finally, once I felt it was finished, I fell asleep on m be, poem on my bedside table as I drifted into unconsciousness.

My alarm woke me, and I went through motions of making breakfast, then grading a quick shower and getting ready before I had to leave for school. I was there ten minutes before the bell, I met Spencer, my best friend by my locker, and we talked until it was time for homeroom, and Literature.

It was another boring lesson, all the popular people stuck there hands up to go firs, like Kathleen and Ashlyn, and all the other...you know...in class, then some of the guys, and five minutes before the bell, I had my poem sitting in front of me and my bag on my shoulder.

"Lissa," Mrs. William said, I looked and stared, when I didn't move. "Will you come up and read your poem please?" she said, grow a little impatient.

"Oh...um...sure?" I said, not sound quite sure myself, but tucked a red lock of hair behind my ear and cleared my suddenly dry throat. "So, um, it's, uh, it's called loneliness." I said and looked down at the paper.

In the hours of darkness,

I lay here alone;

Unable to sleep,

Holding my pillow tight;

Seem to be gone-everyone around me.

I'm left cold, unloved and alone,

Just like my heart.

Companionship wasn't meant for me.

On my own, with loneliness to bare.It seems to be my only friend,

When deafening silence, takes over my mind.In a deserted emptiness is where I hide,

Alone,

In my own loneliness.

I finished, just as the bell went and I caught Nam Joon's eyes. I slammed the paper down on the desk and ran out the room, feeling completely embarrassed, and humiliated. I ran to the girl's restroom and hid out in there till the bell to signal the next lesson had begun.

I grabbed some tissue and dabbed at my face, making sure the little make-up I wore hadn't run. I walked out of the restroom, only to be stopped dead in my tracks as Kim Nam Joon stood, leaning to the lockers opposite to the door of the girl's restroom, one foot planted on the lockers and arm crossed over his chest. He was looking down as his hair made a little curtain between him and me.

I was hoping I could escape back into the restroom and avoid him, but then, he looked up and smiled at me. No wait, it couldn't have been me. I looked behind me and no one was there. And when and on one was there. When I looked back, he was still smiling. I gulped and tried to steady my breathing as he walked forward, pushing off from the lockers.

Looking so graceful, he would have been like angel, and only imperfection he had, was chip in his left incisors when he smiled, like he was now, as he got closer.

Then it hit me. Oh my gosh, Kim Nam Joon smiling at me. ME! Lissa Chatleys! I breathed in through my mouth but only a little so he wouldn't notice and when he got too close I had to stop back, but when he kept advancing, I ended up backing into a wall. Oh crap. He put his hand on one side of my head while he leaned in.

"Hi," he said with that cocky and arrogant-ish smirk that made more irascible. I gulped and squeaked out my own hi. "Listen Lissa..." and I completely zoned out. Because Kim Nam Joon knew my name, "Are you even paying attention?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"No" I said more normally, he laughed.

"Most girls would have just nodded and told me to carry on." He smirked.

"Well I'm not most girls and I'm going to ask you to start from the beginning." I said, folding my arms over my chest, looking up into the golden eyes that held a lot of amusement in them.

"I said, listen Lissa, I know I've never really talked to you much, and I've been a jerk to pretty much everyone, and I'm guessing that I was being more than a jerk to on more than one occasion and I want to say I'm sorry, I just tend to be a little harsh to the people I like." He said, smiling that smile again, and looking very hard into my eyes.

"Oh-kay?" I said, clearly not getting where this going.

"God! Take a hint woman, I like you okay. And when you stood in front of the class and practically poured your heart out, I felt sorry for you. You looked so beautiful up there, with all that hurt in your voice that I just wanted to wrap my arms around you, hold you and kiss you until you were better. I want to sit with you at lunch and hold your hand in public, and I want you to want me back." He frustrated, I hadn't realized he was squeezing my hand.

I looked down, as our fingers where locked together. A faint smile crossed my lips and I looked back up into his eyes.

"I do, but..." I started.

"But?" he said, leaning in close and making it even harder to think, how was I supposed to form a sentence with him looking this good in those dark wash jeans and that light grey long sleeved shirt so up close and personal

"I just..." I sighed and looked down, closing my eyes and resting my head on his chest. "I just know how separate reality from fiction, like I know I'll pass art, that's reality, and I know I'll date someone popular, that's fiction. And as obvious as it is you are popular, Jon. I know your unreachable because your completely popular and all those sk - uh - cheerleaders after you, and I am the complete opposite. I am unpopular and could never even consider going out with anyone like you an - " he cut me of.

"Has anyone ever told you, you talk to much?" Then he leaned in and kissed me, not a short little peck, or a little sweet kiss on the cheek, but a full - on passionate kiss on the lips. And it was all I could, so not to melt into his body as his arms wrapped around my waist and held me close to him. I fisted his shirt as, our lips moved n sync with each other.

When I pulled away he was smiling down at me, every time I'd try to talk, hid cut me off with a little kiss on his lips. I smiled and put my hand in front of his mouth.

"You like me?" I asked. He nodded. "And you want to go out, like me be your girlfriend." I said. He nodded again, then kissed my palm, and pulled my hand away.

"I have liked you for a while now Lissa but I've never had the guys to talk to you. I just didn't know how you felt that same way." He said, then pulling me into his arms and hugging me. I smiled into his chest, as people clapped and cheer. I looked over his shoulder and saw Elizabeth and Jimin standing there, with sarcastic love struck eyes, supporting each other while they both held a hand over their hearts.

I rolled my eyes and hid in Jon's embrace again. As arm tightened around me, I felt him kiss the top of my head, "Kalissa Chatleys, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you don't have to be lonely anymore." I looked up and he kissed me again.

[superemeralds]

i'll do a quick doodle page i said

[breezere]

Sano and Gloom combined together maybe? (Sano is from boyfriend to death and by electricpuke btw)

hmm,,,,,

inch resting,,,,,,

[the-random-phan]

Yearbook Trolling

Truce gift for @charcoalhawk !

I'm sorry this took so long. I hope you like it!

Full story beneath the cut.

WC: 1,940

Ao3

FFnet

Summary:

It’s senior year of high school and Danny tries to reveal his identity by signing everyone’s yearbooks as Phantom.

@phandomholidaytruce

Danny was oh-so peacefully sleeping during lunch when Sam oh-so rudely threw a book down on the table. It wasn’t actually that violent of an action, but it was enough to drag Danny from his dreams. Evil Sam.

“Hng?..” He made a groggy sound. Danny looked up at her and then immediately regretted that decision as he was struck blind by the fluorescent lights. He buried his face back in his arms and waited for the spots to disappear.

“Watch it!” Shouted Tucker. Danny’s eyes adjusted just in time to see Sam handing Tuck a pen.

“Sign my yearbook, will you?” Sam asks. There was a flipping of pages and Danny finally took note of the book that had been his rude awakening. It had a bright red cover with white text -a bit of a color nightmare if he was being honest- and said something about “Class of 2008.”

“How’d you get yours already?” Asked Tuck, anger forgotten. He started writing something on an empty page. Danny couldn’t clearly see what Tucker was writing with his head still lying on the table. He was still about half-asleep, body heavy and slipping into dreams every other moment. Sam took her seat beside Danny and more conversation passed over his head. Danny drifted in and out, at least until Tucker whacked him on the head with the pen.

Danny’s head shot up and he glared at his now ex-best-friend.

“Your turn.” Tucker just grinned.

Mumbling threats of phasing Tucker’s PDA into a wall under his breath, Danny took the pen. His eyes slid over the page, and he saw that Tucker had drawn three little characters next to his signature. There was a little ghost, vampire, and wolf. Meant to represent their trio no doubt.

Danny glossed over the page and chose a spot right above Tucker’s doodles. He quickly put down his signature, then decided to add a little star next to it just because he could. That task accomplished, Danny pushed the book back to Sam and laid his head back on the table. Hopefully he could resume his nap.

Sam took the book back and looked over the now slightly-less-blank page. Danny had just laid back down when he heard Sam make a noise. He looked up lazily to see her frown. It was then that she turned the book back to him.

“Wha’ sup?” He questioned. Sam just pointed to his signature. Confused, Danny re-read what he’d signed.

“I don’t see-” Oh. Yep, that was… a thing. Instead of ‘Danny,’ he’d written ‘Phantom’ instead. Hm.

“Sign too many autographs recently?” Sam chuckled. It made Danny’s face burn. Because, yeah that was probably why. Public opinions on his ghost half were at an all-time high, and he’d been pulled aside after a fight more than a few times in the last few weeks. He had drawn the line when someone asked him to sign their forehead, though. He even had a (slightly dubious) special pen he’d nabbed from the rejects pile in his parents’ lab. It wrote in bright green and shimmered in the light. It was cool and fit his “brand” perfectly.

But Sam didn’t have to go and point it out like that.

“You wish.” It was a weak reply, they all knew it, but Danny wasn’t in the mood. He looked away and went back to sleep.

However, there was an idea brewing at the edge of his consciousness. He hid his grin and filed it away for later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny’s next class after lunch was physics. It had been the bane of his existence in the past, as neither of his friends were in the class yet somehow all of the A-listers and Wes Weston were. But today, it would be his source of entertainment instead of anguish.

The teacher started off class with their instructions for the day. They had a test in a few days so the block was their chance to catch up on any work they were missing. A free day, basically. And so, Danny started in on last night’s homework and laid in wait for the conversation he knew would soon start.

Danny’s chance came even sooner than he expected. Almost immediately the A-listers left their seats and congregated into a small group at the back of the class. Danny watched Dash walk past with a grin. It got him a weird look from Wes but it was worth it.

“Oh hey, Pauli,” Star began. She pulled a certain book from her oversized purse.

“Would you like to sign?” She asked. Paulina made some sugary sweet response and thus the ball began to roll. Then the teacher stepped out to go to the bathroom, and it truly started. People began swapping yearbooks like Pokemon cards. Danny took the chaos as a chance to walk right up to Star.

“Hey, mind if I sign?” He asked innocently. Danny produced his bright green pen so that Star wouldn’t try to hand him one.

If this were freshman year, Star would have no doubt turned him down with a look of disgust. But she, of all the popular kids, had mellowed quite a bit.

“Uh sure, I guess. I don’t see why not.” Star said, looking a bit confused. She shrugged and turned to her book. She waited for Kwan to finish off his signature then handed it over.

Danny had managed his way into the furvor of signatures, and before he knew it he had signed at least ten of them. All in his eye-burning green pen. There should be the first person noticing sometime soon…

The teacher chose that moment to come back, and Mikey, who’d been stationed at the door, alerted them all to her presence. Cue the frantic scrambling of 20-odd teenagers as they all retook their seats. When the teacher re-entered she had a look of suspicion on her face, but did nothing about it. Most of the class passed by in the quiet scratching of pencils and hushed whispers. Luckily for Danny, he had hearing that was better than the average person. Thus he caught the spread of a confused sentiment in the back of the room. He just hoped one of them would put the dots together.

As he had approached Star, she was the first to confront him. With Paulina at her side and the rest of their posse behind her, of course. Their presence also caught the attention of the rest of the class, and soon Danny was the center of attention. Surprisingly the teacher made no comment on the whole situation.

“What, exactly, is this?” Questioned Star. They all held up their yearbooks to show him. All of them had matching neon-green scribbles.

“You’re the only one with a green pen!”

“It’s just my signature. What’s up with that?” Danny said as though bored. But it was a front. Inside he was almost giddy. Deep down he knew they probably weren’t going to connect the dots, who would ever begin to think that a ghost had a (not-so) secret identity? But it couldn’t hurt to hope.

“But it is not yours,” Paulina shouted. She produced a very familiar picture.

Last month, Paulina had showed up at the end of every single ghost fight for a solid week, begging for an autograph. Danny had managed to evade her for a while, but she was quite persistent. He’d been so reluctant because what she wanted him to sign was a very obviously photoshopped picture of himself, carrying an equally photoshopped Paulina in his arms. In it, ‘his’ jaw looked like it could slice through steel, and also for some reason it gave him black stubble? But yeah, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. It wasn’t until Paulina started throwing herself into danger for his attention that he gave in. Also, Technus called her his girlfriend and he was having none of that.

“You forged Phantom’s signature!” Oh, she looked furious. Heh.

“What are you talking about?” Danny feigned innocence.

“Of course that’s mine. Look, it’s even got a star next to it.” Danny was having quite a bit of fun with the ordeal. He may only be half ghost, but he could still partake in a bit of mischief. Or maybe that was the teenager in him? Who knew. But unfortunately a certain Wes Weston had to come along and spoil his fun.

“He is literally admitting it! Danny is Phantom!” Wes popped up out of nowhere.

“I don’t know why you all think I’m crazy when he is literally saying it himself!” Ah, sweet innocent Wes. Now they would never figure it out themselves. Danny sighed, mentally of course because on the outside he was still the perfect figure of innocence. Hm. Maybe he could twist this to his advantage. They already lost the chance of figuring it out, so why not reinforce it?

“He’s dead right, you know.” Danny said, stopping Wes in the middle of his tirade. He’d been preparing for this for all of his half-life.

“It’s pretty un-boo-lievable that he’s the only one to ever stand a ghost of a chance in figuring me out. The rest of you only know the halfa it. It truly haunts me how invisible I am to you all.” Danny tried his best to sound both completely honest and like a complete troll.

It earned him a series of blank stares. That slowly turned to frowns as the series of puns began to register. He had about half expected laughter, but it would seem that either he or Wes were uncool enough for them to react so negatively.

“Ugh, really?”

“Ghost jokes are so old.”

“That’s just lazy comedy.”

“Did he really go there?”

“Such a loser.”

Wow, tough crowd.

After that disaster the A-listers stomped off, having lost interest and not wanting to be subject to his puns. Though not before Dash promised to beat him up for being so lame. Someone in the group produced a bottle of white nail polish and they painted over his signatures. Little did they know, the ecto-ink would just burn through it before too long. A small bit of revenge, but revenge nonetheless.

The bell rang and Danny went to gather his things. He made for the door when suddenly Wes blocked his path.

“I hate you.” Wes said flatly.

“Hey, I tried, okay? If they didn’t believe it back there they never will. Some people just don’t want to see what’s right in front of them.” Danny shrugged.

“Well I’m not gonna give it up.” Said Wes, determined. He went off to get his own stuff.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down~” Danny sang after him. Wes just ignored him and stomped off. Dang, try to lighten the mood and that’s all ya get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were clueless. Utterly clueless. Even when Danny started adding the star to the end when asked for autographs in ghost form, the school’s rumor mill just chalked it up to coincidence and didn’t even talk about it for a whole day before people lost interest. Though Danny’s attempt had largely failed, it did have one success. He could say whatever questionable ghostly stuff he wanted, and people barely batted an eye. They just thought it was an elaborate ruse to make fun of Wes. Which, poor Wes, but the guy did kinda bring it upon himself. Despite having the exact opposite effect of what he wanted to do, Danny was happy with the development.

Plus, it would only make for an even better reveal when his secret finally, inevitably came out.

[let-them-read-fics]

Conflicted Connections

Requested By @rc11: “Reader is drunk and calls Rosé to pick her up since she’s worried. And on the way home, the reader confesses but since she knows Rosé is out of her league she gets all sad. All fluff throughout the way, and the next day she avoids Rosé since she recalls herself confessing and is to embarrassed to face her. Gets a lil bit angst but then they somehow make up at the end.”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,505

Warnings / Misc. – Mentions Of Alcohol & Partying, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein. 

A/N: Thank you for the request! I had fun writing this one, and I really hope you enjoy it. I stuck with the gist, but I added quite a bit :) AND WHO ELSE IS HYPED FOR THE SHOW??? 🥳 I can’t wait to see our girls own that stage 😌

PS ~~ The song used is called "Baby, I Love You" by Tiffany Alvord, and it was specially requested.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

With yet another steaming cup of tea in hand, Rosé makes her way back to her room, settling onto the soft cushions of the bed. Her notebook lays open in front of her, lyrics and annotations beautifully etched into the paper. 

She pulls her guitar back into her lap now, allowing her fingers to glide along the strings as she strums out whatever comes to mind. Nothing makes her feel as relaxed as this; she's free to sing whatever she feels -- to play whatever feels right. If only for a little while, she can connect back to her roots and remember how she felt as a little girl; when her heart and mind were unburdened by fear of judgement.

Life isn't always easy, but she takes comfort in the fact that her love of music will always remain childlike, in the sense that there's always something new to discover or tell the world. It goes without saying that being a songwriter is much easier when you're inspired, and Rosé can attest to that. A certain someone has become her muse over the course of the past few months, and her mind is constantly filled with ideas for new material. 

As another line pops into her head, she takes the page between her fingers to flip to a clean sheet. A few seconds later, thinking she found one, she begins writing. Soon, though, she discovers that this wasn't an empty page: in the upper right hand corner, a small heart is drawn, encompassing the words "Hi Rosie" and a small smiley face. Your initials are printed next to the doodle, and the sight brings a soft smile to her face. You must've sneakily drawn that when she wasn't looking one day. 

Her fingers run along the markings, tracing over the lines as your face flashes in her mind for the millionth time today. The universe must've been listening, because no more than 5 minutes later, her phone starts ringing. She reaches backwards towards the bedside table, and her fingers soon make contact with the device. 

"Hey, I was just thinking about you--" She starts, before being interrupted. 

"BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE--" Your voice booms through the phone as you sing loudly, nearly making Rosé go deaf in the process. She blinks a few times to refocus her thoughts before chuckling lightly.

"Y/N?"

"Rosie I'm at this really fun party, you should come hang out!" Your words come out slightly slurred, but excited nonetheless. It's a bit hard for her to hear you now over the music blasting in the background. 

"Ah, I don't know…" She trails off, voice unsure. She'd much rather spend the evening writing about you than at some random party. 

"Pleaaseee?" You drag out, making sure to whine for even more emphasis. "I miss you." 

Rosé's heart skips a beat at that last part, now thudding obnoxiously loud in her chest. She misses you too, probably more than a 'friend' should, but she can't help it -- you're simply too amazing.

She takes a breath, knowing that she'll likely regret her next decision -- after all, hiding her feelings becomes harder every time she's around you. Regardless, she can't find it in herself to say no to you. "Alright, fine. Where are you again?"

You let out a loud cheer upon hearing her cave in, and she just knows you look like a dork, likely having that stupid little smirk on your lips that she loves so much. 

After getting the address from you, she goes into her closet to find a good outfit. For anyone else, she might've just shown up in whatever was comfortable; but knowing that you're there is enough motivation for her to put a bit more effort into it. 

Her signature style shines through: she dons a black crop top and jeans, paired with a long, hickory colored trench coat. She finishes the look off with her white sneakers, giving the outfit that final umph that it needed.

With one last look in the mirror, she adjusts her clothes and hair again before heading out.

-----

The moment that Rosé steps foot inside the house, her eyes widen. She's been to plenty of parties before, but never one as chaotic as this. A large crowd is gathered in the living room, making the area that was likely once spacious now appear cramped and tiny. Some people move with the rhythm, while others dance wildly to the beat of their own drum. The music was audible from outside, but inside is a whole nother story: it's nearly deafening now. 

In front of her, just past the living room, two guys are fist fighting. To her left, a long hallway is filled with couples making out, likely on their way to the bedrooms. She grimaces before pushing her way past everyone and walking towards the kitchen.

The bright strobe lights from the living room still manage to reach the area, but things are definitely a little calmer here. That's not to say that it's quiet, though: people are gathered around the counters, downing shots and cheering each other on at the same time. Some stumble around, nearly falling over as their friends laugh hysterically and help keep them vertical.

In the adjacent room, two teams of partygoers are busy playing beer pong. It seems to be boys vs girls, and Rose smirks when she discovers the latter are in the lead. 

She scans the rooms one more time, but you're still nowhere to be found. A pang of worry settles in her chest, but it only makes her more determined to find you.

And, 10 minutes later, she does. You're outside in the backyard, sitting near the fire pit with a bottle of wine in your hand. The flames are dying down now, long ago forgotten about -- the stars shining in the midnight sky had captivated you, stealing your attention away from keeping the fire fed. 

Before she begins her journey over to you, she takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful you look. The remaining embers flicker lazily, creating a deep haze that casts onto your body. The shadows contrast with the light, making your features pop in all the right ways. The sound of someone shouting again brings her out of her daze, and Rose makes her way to you.

At first, you don't notice her. Your eyes are wide, filled with wonder as you gaze up at the sky in awe. Space has always baffled you, and Rose thinks you look adorable when you get like this. 

"Y/N," she says gently, standing beside your chair. After pulling your eyes away from the sky, you meet her gaze. A light blush rises to your cheeks at the way she's looking at you. 

"Hi Rosie," you slur. The words come out cutely, but she can tell that you're much drunker than you had been when you called earlier. 

"How much have you had?"

You scrunch your face up in thought as the last two functioning brain cells in your head go to work. She can practically see the wheels turning, and she can't help but laugh at the look of effort on your face. 

"...a lot." You ultimately conclude, taking far too long to come up with such a simple answer. "Alex gave me a couple of his special mixes earlier, I had some shots, and now--" you declare, holding the wine bottle up triumphantly, "--this!"

As soon as she heard his name leave your lips, she frowned. Alex is one of your coworkers and friends, and he's totally in love with you. You're oblivious to it, but Rose isn't and she can't stand him. On top of the fact that he's a guy, he has the audacity to like you? Well, she can't exactly blame him for those things, but that doesn't mean that she has to like him. She's civil around him for your sake, but that's all.

"Do you want some?" You ask, always willing to offer her whatever you have. Sharing is caring, and you definitely care about a certain Australian beauty. 

She looks down at you before shaking her head. "No, I'm good." You swish the liquid around, peering down into the bottle as it glides from side to side. "Me too," you say, setting it down beside your chair. "Let's go dance!" You suggest excitedly, using your strength to hoist your body out of the seat. Sorely miscalculating your moves, your foot doesn't quite connect with the ground how you intended; you stumble, falling right into Rosie's waiting arms.

She was watching you carefully, having a feeling that this would happen. 

"Nope, I'm taking you home. No dancing for you." You whine and pout, but Rose doesn't budge. Eventually you give up, and allow her to hold you close as she helps you walk out of the house. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she has to fight the butterflies that take flight.

As the two of you near the door, Rose spots Alex in the living room. She shoots him a cocky grin, as if to say 'checkmate' before she leads you out the door.

-----

The ride home was getting off to a rather interesting start. It took Rosie a while to wrangle you into the car and buckle you in, but she eventually managed to do it. Now, though, a new problem is arising: you're being flirty, and she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"You're so pretty," you compliment, leaning over the center console to whisper the phrase in her ear. She gulps and attempts to calm her heart down, but she's having trouble. "Shush," she commands, blushing as she lets out a little giggle. She tries to remind herself that you're just drunk -- that there's no real meaning behind your words -- but it feels good to pretend.

After a moment, you return to your seat, and she lets out a sigh of relief. 

Barely 2 minutes later, you place a hand on her knee, saying gently, "You always take such good care of me. Thank you, Rose." She sneaks a glance at you, and her heart nearly melts at the smile you're sending her way. Your eyes are shining with sincerity, and she'd surely get lost in them if she weren't busy driving. 

The rest of the ride is filled with more flirting and compliments from you, all of which send her into a gay panic, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

----

Now, laying in your bed as Rosé rounds up some pajamas for you, the effects of the alcohol really begin setting in. You're still in the playful, teasing phase, but you know you'll have a major hangover tomorrow. Whatever Alex put in those drinks is catching up with you and running its course throughout your body.

"Rosie, do you like anyone?" You call out, toying with your fingers like a toddler. She emerges from the bathroom, washcloth in hand, just as you ask the very words she's been fearing.

She goes to respond, but you interrupt her with a drunken giggle. "Because I do. Her name rhymes with nosey." You chuckle at yourself, but she's too busy trying not to freak out to return the gesture. When you don't question her further, she relaxes her shoulders. How many more times could she get away with avoiding her feelings?

She pushes the scary thought away, instead opting to bring over your clothes and give you a minute to change. Thankfully you're coherent enough to do that on your own -- the thought of you flirting with her while half naked and self-assured sends her wild, and she knows she'd slip up and confess. 

Once you're dressed, she comes back over to the bed and sits down in front of you. She brings the rag up to your face and slides it across your cheeks and neck, knowing just what you need. This isn't the first time she's done this for you, and she can't deny the rush she feels when you look up at her with those big eyes, filled with gratitude.

You sigh at the coolness, relishing in the way that it soothes your hot skin. A soft thank you slips past your lips as your eyelids flutter shut, and Rosé almost lets herself imagine that you're hers. That she just brought her girlfriend back home and now she's taking care of her. But before she can get too lost in that fantasy, she pulls away, slipping the rag into your hand so that you can use it on yourself now.

"Well, I think my work here is done." She declares, patting your leg lovingly. She moves to stand, and the action prompts you to speak up.

"Wait," you start, grabbing her wrist before she can get away. You meant to tug gently, but you must've misjudged your strength; in an instant, she's close to you again, just a breath away. Her face is right in front of yours, and you can feel her warm breath against your lips. 

Her eyes are wide now, and a subtle tremble runs through her. She's never been this close to you, and although she's terrified, she doesn't want to move away. She wants to give in -- to lean forward the tiniest bit and capture your lips -- but she can't. Her breathing becomes labored as she notices your gaze move from her eyes to her lips. Do you like her back? Surely not, you're just drunk...right?

Her pink lips look so kissable right now, the gloss on them shining in the low lamplight. She's close enough that you can smell her fruity shampoo and feel every jagged breath she draws in.

"Y/N--" 

That's all it takes to set you into motion. You bring a hand up to her cheek, cupping it sweetly as you press your lips to hers. She sighs at the contact, melting into your embrace, and allows herself to let her walls down. Her lips move against yours slowly, unsure -- this is new for both of you, and you're testing the waters. One of her hands comes up to rest against the back of your neck, and she pulls you impossibly closer. 

After she subconsciously bites your lip - the action drawing a groan from you - she snaps back to reality and pulls away. Her lips are red and swollen, and you have to stop yourself from leaning back in. She looks like she wants to do the same, but she centers herself before she can.

"I, uh, I'm gonna go. Goodnight, Y/N." She says breathlessly, swallowing as she runs a hand through her hair. She doesn't give herself anymore time to change her mind, and soon she's rushing out, failing to even give you so much as a second glance. 

Shocked, you sit back and let your mind try and piece together what the hell just happened. The kiss worked well in sobering you up, at least for the time being, but you wish it hadn't. Now, you're forced to sit alone with your feelings again, lips still tingling with the memory of hers against them.

----

The Next Morning

*ring ring*

The blare of your ringtone sounds especially loud now, making you wince in pain. Your head is pounding, and that definitely isn't helping. Quickly, you roll over and pick it up, keeping your eyes closed as you press the button and hold it to your ear. "Hello?" You ask groggily, voice still laced with sleep.

"Hey, Y/N. The girls and I are going out later; do you wanna come with?" Jennie's sweet voice asks. You rub your forehead, now opening your eyes and staring at the ceiling as you ponder your options. With a glance at the clock, you see that you've already slept a good portion of the day away.

"I'd love to, but I'm pretty hungover right now Jen." You chuckle despite yourself, grinning when she laughs back.

"Rosie told us you might be dealing with that." Jennie laughs again, but you go quiet. Did she tell them everything that happened, or did she try and forget about it? After all, she basically ran away -- surely she regrets it. You scold yourself for even thinking that someone as out of your league as Rosé could like you back.

"Jisoo whipped up her special 'hangover-reverser' drink for you, as she calls it." She adds, hoping that'll win you over. Lost in your thoughts, you forget to answer her. 

Jennie takes your silence the wrong way, saying, "You don't have to come, but we'd love to hang out." She sounds sad at the thought of you staying home, and a feeling of guilt creeps into your mind. Work has kept you from hanging out with all of them recently, and they miss you. You miss them too, and quickly decide that a hangover (and the awkward situation you'll be subjected to when face to face with Rosé) aren't enough of a deal breaker to decline their offer. 

"I'll be over in a few. Tell Jisoo to make a couple more for the road… I'll need all the help I can get." 

Jennie laughs again, and you pep up at the sweet sound. She celebrates, and you can hear the girls clapping in the background, shouting praise at her for convincing you to come. The two of you say your goodbyes, and you begin getting ready.

-----

"Jisoo, you're a lifesaver." You confess, flopping back onto the couch. The unnie responds with a smug, "I know," from her place in front of the mirror. 

You lick the remaining liquid from your lips, and Rose shifts in her seat across the room. She can't get the feeling of your kiss out of her mind, and seeing you do that only makes things worse. 

"Here's the second one," Lisa says, smirking as she pats your shoulder and hands you the cup. You smile back at her and smack her butt as a wordless thank you.

"Alright, so where exactly are we going, girls?" You ask as you tuck your feet underneath your body.

"I was thinking we could shop around Hongdae. They changed some stuff since we were there last, and it looks awesome." Jennie informs.

"Sounds good to me." Jisoo replies from the adjacent room, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. 

Lisa agrees as well, and so does Rosie. At the sound of her soft voice, you make eye contact with her for the first time today. Ever since you arrived earlier, you've avoided her. She's done much the same, refraining from saying much to you at all. The girls haven't seemed to pick up on the tension yet, but they're observant; surely it won't take them long. 

As you replay the fateful events in your mind again, you allow your head to lull back and rest against the cushion of the couch. Last night, Rosé’s eyes were speaking all of the words she could never tell you out loud, sparkling with repressed desire. It wasn't hard to tell that she was nervous, but she kissed you like she had been waiting to for an eternity. So, clearly, your confusion at the whole situation is understandable. Why did she run away?

"Ready?" Jisoo asks, kicking your foot to get your attention. 

"As I'll ever be." You state as you stick a hand out to her. She understands immediately, swiftly helping you up. A little groan leaves you, your head spinning from standing up so quickly, so she doesn't move until you get adjusted. 

"Thanks," you smile, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Having such good friends always comes in handy, but there's something special to the little moments like these. She hums in response, and the two of you lead the way out to the car.

Rosé watches the whole encounter as she falls in line behind you, wishing she were in Jisoo's place. Last night was a wake up call for her, unexpected in literally every way, and she panicked. Looking back now, she wishes she would've at least explained her behavior to you. The kiss awakened something within her, releasing all of the feelings she's held in for so long. She didn't rush out because she didn't enjoy the kiss; if she had any idea that that's the impression it left on you, she would've ran back in and kissed you a million times over.

Lisa notices Rosie's furrowed brow and downcast eyes, and instantly knows something's up. 

Now in the car, she leans in close to ask, "Everything okay?" 

"Mhm." Rosie replies, doing her best to sound like her normal self. 

The years have made Lisa an expert at reading the slightly older girl, but she doesn't want to push her. If she wants to talk about it, she will.

"Okay…" Lisa trails off, coincidentally making fleeting eye contact with you through the rearview mirror. On any other day, you would've fought Lisa over the seat next to Rosé; but today, of course, is unlike any other. You're in uncharted territory now, and you have no idea when -- or if -- you'll return to normal. For now, you make do with the passenger's seat, keeping yourself busy by looking out the window. Jennie's driving is smooth, and you appreciate that in your altered state. A low pulsing still vibrates through your head every now and then, but it's become much more bearable. Jisoo truly knows what she's doing with that concoction.

----

Hongdae, Seoul -- A Few Hours Later

"Jennie," Lisa huffs out, struggling to carry everything she’s been handed. "How much stuff do you need?!" The maknae does her best to keep the bags from touching the ground, but that task is proving difficult. 

"We're almost there!" Jennie says, dismissing the younger girls complaints. 

A few minutes later, you're seated at the new restaurant Jennie's spent the night talking about. Seeing the girls so happy today has taken your mind off of your own problems somewhat, but sometimes the issues are unavoidable… like right now. 

Though she tries to be discreet about it -- even going so far as to hide behind her menu -- you can feel Rosé's eyes on you. The waiter seated you at a booth, and of course she happened to sit right in front of you. Having her attention has always been something you enjoy, but you're so embarrassed about what happened that you can't help but shy away from it now. If drunkenly confessing your feelings for her wasn't bad enough, you also kissed her. What could be next?

Rosie's dying on the inside a little more with every minute that passes. The past few hours were filled with plenty of fun and stupidity for the lot of you, stopping in just about every store you came across and joking all the while. But the entire time, you and Rosé kept your distance. Occasionally you'd crack a joke to make her laugh or the two of you would share a look, but the air around you was always thick with the emotions you couldn't give voice to. It also doesn't help that part of Rosé is afraid you didn't even really mean to kiss her. If she blames it on your drunkenness, she doesn't have to process her feelings; she can just go back to suffering in silence. When she looks at you, though, she knows there's no denying what you both feel for each other. 

"Can I get you started with some drinks?" The waiter approaches again, pen and pad ready to go.

"Do you have sikhye?" You inquire, raising your head to look at him.

"We do."

"Great," you smile, getting an idea. "I'll take one of those and a glass of water, please." He jots down your request before recording the other orders and setting off to get the drinks prepared. 

In order to preserve the plan, you don't dare look in Rosé's eyes.

A couple minutes later, he returns with a big tray of drinks; it's a wonder he didn't accidently drop any on the way. Jennie and Jisoo ordered multiple for the table so you could sample them, and you smile at the gesture. They all look tasty, but one in particular catches your attention.

When he hands it to you, you wordlessly slide it over to Rosé. You know she loves it, and you did order it for her, after all. She lets out a little gasp of excitement, and you choose this moment to really look at her. Her eyes are shining again, and you laugh -- if anything is capable of cheering her up, it's something that she can eat or drink.

She beams at you while extending her hand, gently resting it against yours on the table. It's warm and comforting, and you can't help but want to hold it forever. Her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your wrist, and you almost melt at the tenderness of the motion. 

Thankfully the other girls aren't paying attention, or else you'd be thoroughly embarrassed. They continue on with their conversation, leaving you and Rosé to get lost in your own world for the next while.

More time passes, in which you place your food orders and the waiter later brings it out to you.

"Enjoy, ladies." He declares before bowing and returning to the host stand. 

"It looks so yummy," Rose moans, snatching up her chopsticks before digging in. The other girls agree as well, and soon all of you are eating like there's no tomorrow. The flavors go perfectly together, and you pat yourself on the back for choosing the dish you did.

"Do you wanna try some?" You ask after noticing Rose eyeing your plate. You quirk an eyebrow at her as you wait for her answer, which comes in the form of a sheepish nod. 

"That's my girl," you declare with a smile on your face, happy to bring back some of your playful banter. Rosie's heart speeds up at the title, but she tries not to show it too much. Although it's a bit unmannerly, you reach a bite of your food across the table to her and grin when she takes it. Her cheeks puff out in that signature chipmunk pose, and your smile widens. 

"Yah, that's delicious." She sighs, closing her eyes to allow her palate to focus on the flavors. 

You shake your head at how much of a dork she is for food, but giggle despite yourself. She really is the cutest.

-----

"Good evening, everyone, this is the manager speaking. Our lounge area will open in 10 minutes, and karaoke will begin shortly after!" 

Lisa looks at Jennie incredulously, her mouth hanging open. "They have karaoke, too?? How cool is that!" 

Jennie smirks, knowing how good she is at choosing places to take you guys. This joint is definitely somewhere that you'll frequent whenever you're around. "I know right?" She asks, satisfied with herself.

In Rosie's eyes, the karaoke announcement was fate working its magic. She's spent the day mulling over everything that's transpired, deciding earlier that all she needed was one more sign. Now that she had that last little push, all she has left to do is gather up all the courage she possesses. 

As the 5 of you finish up your meals and wait for it to kick off, she racks her brain for the perfect song to sing. She's going to confess.

---

Fully stuffed and satisfied with the amazing dinner you just had, you all follow the waiter towards the lounge area. Located in the back of the restaurant, it's complete with 1 main, corner stage, and 2 smaller ones off to the side. Plush couches and chairs stretch out in front of the stages, allowing the audience to kick back and enjoy the performances. 

A small bar is tucked away in the far corner of the room, stocked with a vast array of different liquors and mixes. Strips of light line the shelves behind the bartender, giving the space its own unique style, and you take some time to admire it all. A few small disco balls hang from the ceiling, placed strategically throughout the room to allow for the most amount of ambience possible. All of the different colors of the rainbow take their turn cycling through the projector, flashing and shining around the room in their random patterns. It's a very welcoming place to be.

You're the first guests in there, so you're free to choose whatever stage you want. "Which one should we go to?" Jisoo asks, doing a little half spin as she looks around the room. 

"Really, unnie? You have to ask?" Lisa rolls her eyes and scoffs; she thought her best friend knew her better than that. Obviously Lisa wants to go to the big stage. How else would she show off all of her moves while she sings?

"You're so dramatic." Jisoo grumbles, sending the maknae an annoyed look of her own as she's dragged over to the performance area. You, Jennie, and Rosé trail after them, shaking your heads at their behavior. 

----

"Come on, we're going first." You bite back a laugh as you watch Lisa tug Jennie up from her spot on the sofa, where she had just sat down and gotten comfortable. Jennie tries to protest, even pointing at the drink she just got from the bar to convince Lisa to let her stay, but she isn't having it. They walk over to the kiosk built into the wall, and take their time in choosing a song to sing.

Their performance is a wild ride, to say the least. Lisa forgets the words at one point, opting to compensate by freestyling a rap and dancing around wildly while everyone hypes her up. She could've just looked at the lyrics on the stage screen, you realize, but that wouldn't have been even half as fun. Jennie breaks into the box of props sitting just off stage, pulling out a multicolored, frilly scarf and wrapping it around her singing partner. To finish off her own look, she rummages around until she finds a comically large top hat and pair of heart shaped glasses.

"Golden buzzer!" You shout out, pressing an imaginary button on the table. The girls celebrate, and your combined laughter fills the room. 

Next up is Jisoo, who decides to put her charm on full display and serenade all of you. She starts off on stage, letting her deep voice lull you into a state of entrancement before she approaches the couch. She greets each of you individually, giving you separate attention just like a rock star would, and all of you go wild for her. She tries to keep up the edgy, heartthrob persona, but it fades a bit when she cracks a smile, her eyes turning into those adorable crescents that you all love so much.

As her song comes to an end, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In order to go through with your plan -- that is, singing a song to Rosie -- you have to calm your nerves a bit first. You splash water on your face and sigh as the chilly liquid slides down your skin. A bead of it trails down your neck, soaking into the cotton of your collar the second it hits it, and you're reminded of last night. A familiar warmth runs through you at the memory of Rosé's hands on your body, taking care of you like always. She's the definition of girlfriend material, and you always kick yourself for waiting so long to tell her about your feelings.

A basket of paper towels sits on the marble countertop of the sink, and you reach forward to grab one and dry your face. With one final look in the mirror, you throw the paper away and exit the restroom. 

Too busy mentally preparing yourself for the performance, you fail to notice that Rosé is already standing on the stage, mic in hand. You lift your head as you near the stage, and she makes eye contact with you; she looks nervous, so you give her a reassuring smile and move back to your seat. Behind the nervousness, you can see how excited she is; you're intrigued. 

"So, this song goes out to a very special girl here tonight. I hope you like it." She announces shyly, garnering some applause from the small group of diners that have filtered their way in from the restaurant. She presses play, and shakes her hands out in an attempt to get rid of the anxiety building within her. Up until now, keeping her worries in check had been doable; though as she stands alone on stage, looking down at the object of her affection, she's afraid all over again. And yet, somehow in an instant, you take some of those fears away. You're looking at her with so much love and encouragement in your eyes that Rosé thinks she can accomplish anything. 

The song -- one you're hearing for the first time tonight -- picks up, and she begins.

There are three words, & I want you to know they are true

There are three words, that I've been dying to say to you 

Burns in my heart, like a fire that ain't goin' out

I need to let you know

You're unintentionally holding in a breath as she croons the words out, singing straight to you. Her soulful vocals ring out across the space, making goosebumps appear on your skin; her voice always strikes a certain chord within you, the beautiful tones sounding like Heaven. She makes it feel like you're the only two people in the room; that even the world stopped for a moment to watch this play out.

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The smile on your face can't be wiped away by anything; no natural force of the universe could get in the way of this. Your heart swells at her confession as things finally fall into place. Possessed by the love you hold for the goddess in front of you, you decide to be brave and join her on stage. 

She squeals and covers her face as you approach, and the audience erupts into cheers at this. They whistle and clap loudly, and you can hear the distinct voices of the girls from behind you. Pulling her hands away, Rosé's adorable face is revealed in all its glory. She has tears in her eyes, and they let you know that the past 48 hours have been just as much of an emotional rollercoaster for her as they have been for you.

You press a kiss to the back of her hand, feeling your chest tighten at the way it lightly shakes against your lips. You take a step closer and wrap your arms around her waist as she hooks her right one around your shoulders. Her left hand holds the mic between you two, making it so that you can sing the next part together. 

I've never said, these words to anyone, anyone at all

Never got this close, cause I was always afraid I would fall

But now I know, that I'll fall right in-to your arms

Don't ever let me go

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The entire time you're singing, she can't take her eyes off of you. She watches as your lips move along with the words, your face scrunching up occasionally to aid in hitting all the notes, and she even forgets to keep singing a couple times. You're so close to her, just like last night. She vows that this time will be different, though. 

After you finish the verse, Rosé surges forward, closing what little distance is left between you. During the performance you had gradually migrated closer to one another, so that made her job all the more easy.

She leans into you and smiles at the feeling of your racing heart. It lets her know that this is actually happening -- that after spending so many months waiting to finally confess and have you return her feelings, it's happening.

She tastes the strawberry chapstick on your lips, and it reminds her of the time she told you it's her favorite type. You used to wear a vanilla kind… does that mean you switched to strawberry after she told you that? (Yes, yes it does).

You bring your right hand up to her jaw and cup it as you move to deepen the kiss. A soft groan escapes her lips at this, and she doesn't waste any time in kissing you back even harder than before. It's long-overdue, and she can't get enough of you.

All too quickly, though, Rosie gets lost in the embrace, and the lounge is filled with feedback as the mic drops to the floor. She jumps at the sudden noise before snatching it up, her face crimson with embarrassment. After placing it back on the stand, she turns to hide her face in your neck. You just chuckle as you wrap your arms around her again. She snuggles in close to you, and you rest your head against hers.

"Awwww, they grow up so fast!" Jisoo wails, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. 

"Cough it up, Jendeukie." Lisa smirks, sticking a hand out in front of the other girl. Jennie shoots her a glare, but nonetheless reaches to the table in front of her to grab her purse. 

"Not another word, Manoban." Jennie says, shoving the 5 dollar bill into Lisa's waiting palm.

The younger girl clears her throat dramatically before saying loudly, "I TOLD YOU SO! Nobody ever listens to the maknae." 

You and Rosé can't contain your laughter anymore, and neither can the girls.

Soon the two of you are back on the couches, cuddling in the corner seat as the others make kissy noises at you. 

She's nestled up against your side, resting her head against your chest contently. 

"I know we kinda did things out of order and all, but I might as well ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" You smile dorkily as she raises up to look at you, a playful smirk of her own tugging at her lips. 

"Absolutely, Y/N." She has stars in her eyes and a dreamy expression on her features as she leans in to kiss you again. 

[dienamights]

Ellipsism | K.Bakugou

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 1.9K

» Genre: Angst 

» Summary: In a world where everyone is born with a unique tattoo on their ankle, and every time they fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on the body of the person they love. You come to the realization that it might not be as simple as that, and all your childhood dreams would come and bite you in the ass.

» Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of self-harm.

» Author’s notes: Listen, I don’t particularly like angst, but I love the way it hurts, y’know? Not sure if I want this to have a happy ending or not (in a second part) and honestly I’m leaning towards the latter, I love pain and I have no idea what would happen. Also, peep the “tattoo” in the header its relevant to the story ahaha

Thank you everyone for the support and love, it means the world to me that people enjoyed my Kacchan representation! Lemme give you smooches.

Big smooches to @tteokdoroki and @sightoru for making me feel good about hurting them🤧❤️

» Masterlist | Requests

The sun had awakened and was promptly emerging through the hazy sky. The cloudy layer created a gloomy blanket from the sun. You jolted awake, your neck aching from your sleeping position and you twisted your head side to side to relieve some of the pain, before reaching for your phone and holding the bright screen to your face to check the time. Alas, the screen was turned off without registering the time nor how long were you asleep for.

You lifted your eyes to see the grey out the window in front of you. With that fog, the trees and buildings never ended, they floated upwards, seemingly as endless as beanstalks. Reaching your head back, it met the wooden counter. You were in the kitchen, fell asleep on the floor and slumped against the counters, the empty bottle laying across from you a reminder of the event that transpired the previous night - maybe morning? You didn't really know.

You lazily extended your legs in front of you, eyeing your sock-clad feet and the tattoo that peaked from the clothing. Blooming lilacs that danced and branched out, the stem wrapping around your ankle oh so loosely, almost teasingly. Lilacs that represented happiness and tranquility, which you have never felt more far from. 

Remembering the old days, the better days, you with your poofy dress, so blindingly pink it demanded everyone's attention, giggling with your friends that adorned similar attire to yours, showing each other the tattoos that hugged your ankles, in endless shapes and sizes, dreaming about who the lucky person you’ll share your tattoo with would be, who was lucky enough to capture your heart and claim it as their own, and offering theirs in return.

Bedtime stories were your favorite quality time with your mother, where you’d both forget about the story cradled in her hands and you’d spend your night tracing the few tattoos that scattered across her arms. Asking her how could she love so many people and have them love her in return before loving her husband - your father - the only person she was meant to be with, only to wait with bated breath for an answer you already heard so many times you probably memorized it by now. You’d be entranced at the way her eyes always softened, a light gleaming in them as she would explain to you, again and again, with no sign of ever getting bored, how she have never and would never regret the people she loved, because in some twisted way of the universe, it led her to the father of her beautiful child, that snuggled her in her princess bed. 

Alas, asking her how you came to the world received a totally different reaction, and you refrained from asking her that again until later on in life.

Whenever your grandma visited, you’d run to hug her old and withered body, apologizing when she would howl about her aching back and dragging her to sit with the excuse to help her rest, but you both knew you wanted to hear stories, your teenage self was so ready to fall in love, so excited to have a piece of someone you adored with all your heart decorating your skin, inking it in the most beautiful forms of promise.

She always made her past lovers sound like prince charmings right out of a novel, the kind of guys with the power and confidence that seemed perfect in every way. The kind of guys schoolgirls woke up and went to school for in the morning. The kind of guys that hit women of all ages right between the eyes every time they were seen and stirred up their fantasies.

And by God, did you not realize that your grandmother wasn't spewing bullshit after all these years, because there he was, a storm in each step he took, fire in his knuckles erupting and seething with fierceness. He was an explosion of bare, raw, real mystery. A soft caress of the wind, warm sand, and pure silence. He was colors and textures and shapes and designs, all combined together in an artistic canvas that thrived for attention but wouldn't stoop to admitting it. 

You remembered the day your lilacs embellished his shoulder, shyly peeking through his hero suit, claiming everyone’s attention on their petals as they swayed on his skin, the attention of the media as the shoulder of the hero, Dynamight, was showcased on social media, people envying whoever was able to capture the exploding hero’s heart.

As if he wasn’t capable of love, they didn't see what you saw, they will never have the privilege, because when he dropped the façade of the hero, he’d come home to you, knock on your apartment door and you’d flee to open it to him to lay your eyes on him, a tired laugh, sore muscles, a teasing glint in crimson eyes, golden hair tasseled after a sleepless night. He was secure embraces oozing with warmth. He was toughness and hardness, perfectly mixed in with trust and care.

It was at that day it happened, in the middle of the living room while the newsman was talking nonsense about the hero, the warmth wrapped around your wrist, gripping it like a vice with no intention of letting go; yes it burned, you remembered the sting, it just paled in comparison to the warmth in your chest, the warmth of the tears escaping your eyes as you held your wrist close to your chest, happily whispering about how this was what love felt like. You also recalled that it was at that exact moment the hero, your hero, walked into your apartment, dropping everything and running the small distance to your hunched body to grab at your wrist to inspect the damage he thought was done to it.

Only for his eyes to meet that one wretched inking he loathed all his life, the - meaningless doodles, he’d call them - that blemished his skin, he remembered the remarks, how no one would be able to share that blotch of his with him because who could ever love him? Who could ever endure him, with all of that ego and all of that anger? And as time passed, he believed it, he believed them, that he wasn’t worthy to be loved, that he was only meant to save, not be saved as well, not even from himself.

But there you were, there you fucking were, crying and laughing and struggling to breath as you repeated the words you’ve been dying to confess, 

“I love you, Katsuki.”

Suddenly, that speckle that was always hidden under his socks brought him happiness, brought him love, and damn did he deserve it, because he fought for it, he endured hell for it, and there you were, wrapped around his arm and repeating those three words against his lips between heated kisses.

He was pleasure and lust. Rough groans and mutual needs. A burning touch. Your name hanging by his lips, breathless kisses and hair-tugging and hot flesh against hot flesh.

He was an illusion you thought it'll never materialize, and yet here he was. 

Here he was, all highs and lows, smiles and frowns, softness and roughness, carefulness and danger. Here he was, a tiny spark of thunder, sparkling with passion, loyalty and dedication, protection, satisfaction, confidence and love.

Here he was…

Where was he?

The inking you used to spend hours admiring now haunts you, the design that used to whirl and twirl across your wrist as you hummed while tracing it now felt like shackles, squeezing so tight against you as you tried to break free. The black almost shrouded by the coats of metallic red that spilled from your attempts of escape. The dark crimson that matches his eyes, the eyes you know you won't forget, you know you don't want to forget, no matter how you’ll feel better if you do.

The girl staring right at you through the distorted reflection created by the dishwasher judged you, all mangled and blurry, yet the tear stains and numb eyes are hard to ignore, easily cutting through the deformed reflection.

You and the girl in front of you envied your friend, the aromantic that was never interested to fall in love, only possessing their own tattoo that graced their ankle, with no one else's accompanying it, sure it looked lonely on some days, but who were you to judge?

You remembered what they always told you, that it wasn't always the fairy tales your family fed you. They told you about their mother, who had an affair and fell in love, spending almost a year hiding the tattoo of her fling from her husband before being caught, they told you how their father was broken beyond repair, he who also was so drunk on the idea of falling in love and being loved in return, just like you were for all those years. They told you of the heart break that you might have to face when your partner’s inking is embedded into you, but not the other way around, how you had to decide whether to wait for your own personal design to mark its location onto them or leave, always being haunted by the part of them that you can't get rid of, no matter what you do.

They never told you about this kind of heartbreak though, the one where you’re both so in love, so happy, destined to be together forever, because what could possibly go wrong?

You never got the answer to that, you remembered asking him as he dragged his suitcase out of the apartment, the tears cascading down his face never answered you as he apologized again and again, mumbled how you deserved to be loved by someone that wasn’t him, babbled about him not deserving you. About how he won’t ever love someone besides you when he caught your eye scanning whatever was visible of his arms, in fear of finding out a piece of someone that wasn't yourself.

You finally got up, legs numb and steps wobbly from sitting on the floor for so long, you eyed the door, still unlocked after his leave a couple of hours ago - maybe more it's still unclear - no urge of yours strong enough to get you up to lock it again. You moved slowly, as if the shuffle of your feet is causing you pain, and in a way, it did, because you know when you reach the living room couch, there won't be the warm arms that engulfed you, because what else did you have other than the warmth you surrounded yourself with when you told him to hold you close to him?

That's right, nothing. 

As you laid down on the couch and allowed yourself to be suffocated by the scent of caramel, you cursed at all the fantasies and dreams that clouded your mind day and night, you frowned and scrunched your nose at the scent that used to mean love and warmth, but now only burnt your nose and teared up your eyes.

A constant reminder, just like the defaced wrist you brought closer to inspect and hissing when the cold air bit at it. You recalled the lilacs and swore at them, the same lilacs that symbolized love and passion, but looking more withered and torn the more you looked at them.

Good, guess they know how I feel.

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[transexualpirate]

“Perfect.”

When he first told Dean, he looked so small and helpless, almost guilty, like he expected Dean to just smack him right in the spot for daring to bring it up. Maybe that's what convinced Dean to participate. Or maybe it was the warmth that painted his cheeks when he imagined Cas smiling brightly at his kid and his... and Dean coming together to make something for him. "Father's Day, huh? Sure. Yeah, why not?" Jack smiled as bright as Cas did in his head.

so uhhhh aparently it’s father’s day in the usa? so i wrote a little something for @dadstielweek​ i hope this is okay <3 also thank you @creepyeyesandfrogs​ for the inspiration ur the best!!!

Summary: Dean and Jack have plans for Cas on father’s day. They also have some unresolved issues.

Warnings: Miscommunication, self worth issues, J*hn Winchester, brief mentions of self destructive tendencies (nothing explicit), brief mentions of sexual themes between Dean and Cas (also not explicit), background Saileen.

also, english is not my native language and i mess up sometimes! i’d much appreciate it if you warn me about any possible mistakes.

"Damn, kid, those are some bright colors you used." it was meant as a jab, but Jack only smiled proudly

"Thank you" he replied "I thought I might be using too much yellow, so his name is written in pink. See?"

Dean did. He stared at the card for a few more seconds. It read "Dad: I feel so safe with you! You always took good care of me and you hold me so gently when I can't sleep. Your the best dad ever!" in yellow, with blue doodles of bees and hearts around it, and "I love you, Castiel" in light pink at the bottom. It wasn't a work of art, but he clearly had fun doing it with some old colorful markers he found around the bunker. It was funny to Dean that a 5'8'' man had done it.

Not a man, he corrected himself. A kid. It was easier to see it in days like these.

"Yeah, it's real pretty, alright. But, uh, just a note-" Jack looked up then, his eyes wide. Dean tried not to be offended about how obvious it was that he was waiting for Dean to back down at any moment "You wrote 'your'. As in, 'your bag', 'your drink', 'your pen', you know. It's 'you're'. Like, 'you are'. You're. You're the best dad ever. Okay?"

"Oh." he looked down again. Stayed silent for a few seconds. Dean imagined he was processing this new information. Then he brought up the yellow marker and fixed it. "There. Is that it?"

"Yup. Looks perfect, kid. Cas is gonna love it."

Jack looked like someone had just told him he could eat all the candy he wanted. Dean found himself chuckling softly at him, then turned back to the cake he was decorating. He was pretty anxious himself. He knew he wasn't the best cook out there, and art also wasn't his strong spot, but he figured that writing "Happy Father's Day" wouldn't be so hard. Jack insisted in some skittles on top of it, too, because "Cas loves colorful things and he even ate some of Jack's last week and seemed to like it!". Dean wasn't so sure. He knew Cas had a weird relationship with food. He didn't need it, and hardly found any he genuinely liked. So he might not eat it at all. Or he might eat it just to make Dean feel good.

But there was something else he had in mind. Something he and Jack had picked in town last week. It was sappy and simple and exactly the kind of thing he never though they’d get to experience.

In the kitchen counter, close to the coffee machine, there was a porcelain mug wrapped with a colorful ribbon. And on it was written “BEST DAD EVER”.

Coffee was something that Cas liked. Especially when it had plenty of sugar. The mug was silly, the kind of thing you’d find at the dollar store, but it made Dean smile just thinking about it. Cas could drink from it everyday. 

Jack followed his gaze and stared at it with a smile. Then he turned to Dean, and to the cake, and seemed to understand something.

“You know he’ll love it too, right?” Dean smiled, but it wasn’t natural anymore. He wasn’t surprised when Jack didn’t buy it. “No, I’m serious. He likes chantilly. He likes chocolate cake. He likes skittles. He loves you. Why wouldn’t he like it?”

 It wasn’t planned at all. It just came out. Easy like that.

He likes all those things. He loves you.

Dean sucked in a breath but before he could reply Jack was staring back at the mug. It seemed like he was already thinking about something else. He was like that, sometimes. Too much energy, a bit like an actual child would have, and not enough place to put it. It wasn’t uncommon for him to lose his train of thought mid sentence. It’s like his own brain was a bit too fast for him.

Dean was like that too, sometimes.

He silently wondered if he should scold him for that, like his own father did to him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, He nudged Jack’s shoulder softly. “Go on. Use plenty of chantilly, ‘kay? You’re right, he likes it.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He hopped to the fridge and got the rest of the chantilly Dean used for the cake. Gently placed the ribbon a little lower on the mug so he could pour something inside it. Turned to the kitchen cabinet and picked up a spoon, and, before Dean, he raised his index finger.

And the coffee machine started working.

Magically.

“Jack!” Dean hissed. He didn’t want to deal with that right now. “Jack, please. Don’t-”

“It’s okay!” he seemed excited “I got it.” he brought a spoonful of chantilly, and the mug floated and stood right in front of him, gravity be damned. “It’s easier this way, I can just-” he held the chantilly container with one hand, the spoon with the other, and the mug was hovering in front of him. There was no way he couldn’t see how that was dangerous.

“Jack, come on,” Dean stopped decorating the cake and reached for the mug “just put it d-”

“Whoa, guys?”

Too many things happened too fast. Sam walked through the kitchen door, rubbing his eyes lazily. Dean flinched. Hard. He thought Cas had discovered them. Jack also flinched, his eyes wide and scared, like he’d been found doing something he shouldn’t be doing. The coffee machine stopped working. The mug fell.

It shattered on the floor, before them.

“Oh, shit.” Sam said, wise as ever.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Come on! Look at it! Goddammit, kid, why did you have to- Come on!”

“Guys? Uh, sorry-” 

“I’m- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I thought- I thought Cas had- I got scared, I’m sorry, Dean, I can fix this, let me just-” he gestured to it, clearly intending to use his powers again, but Dean stopped him, gripping his wrist forcefully with just a little too much strength.

“No. You’ve done enough.” Dean said, his voice cold. He wasn’t sure how exactly things could get worse, but he didn’t want to find out either. Jack struggled to get away from his hold with wobbling lips.

“Dean-” Sam placed a careful hand on his brother’s shoulder “what’s going on?”

“It’s father’s day.” Dean said “We baked a cake and bought Cas a stupid mug but now-” he sighed “the kid used his creepy ass powers and now it’s broken.”

That was like someone had slapped Jack in the face. He finally managed to get his arm free and stepped back like it had burned him. He clutched his wrist, and cried.

“I’m s-sorry...” he managed between sobs.

Dean stared.

He was crying. Outright bawling his eyes out like it was all he knew how to do. If Cas hadn’t slept in Dean’s room (conveniently far away from the kitchen, it was all thought out, that’s definetely the only reason he was there) exhausted from last night’s activities (angels don’t need sleep, per se, but they do benefit from it every now and then if they’re low on grace and already tired from... uh, hunting) he probably would have woken up.

“Oh, shit.” Dean said, for once, somewhat wise.

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t have used th-them. It’s my fault! I didn’t- I didn’t mean-!” he stepped back again, like he was scared anyone would hurt him (or he would hurt anyone).

Dean’s heart dropped to his toes and he wanted to punch himself in the face.

“Shit, kid. No, it’s- Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have yelled like that. Fuck. Sam, a little help here?”

Sam stared at them for a second, his eyebrows knitted together. 

Dean got mad and went a bit too far. That’s happened before.

It happened a lot with John.

But Dean would always chime in and fix John’s messes for him.

Sam turned around, brought a shovel and a broom and in two swift movements cleaned the remains of the mug while Dean stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

And then he left the kitchen.

“What the fuck. Sam, what the- Sam!” but, obviously, Sam didn’t turn around. It wasn’t that he didnt care. He did. So much. He was scared that if he let them there things would only get worse. But he trusted them- he had to.

Dean and Jack needed to have this conversation by themselves.

Jack. The Jack that was pressed up against the wall crying desperately like there’s no tomorrow. Dean wanted to cry too.

“Kid. Jack. Jack, I’m sorry. Hey, listen to me.” he took a careful step but Jack didn’t even seem to notice. He was clutching his own wrist so hard Dean was scared he was going to break the skin. 

He raised his hand and slowly reached for his wrist. Jack flinched again and looked up to Dean like he was surprised that he was so close. Slowly, like he was trying to approach a wild animal, Dean held the kid’s hand and opened it, forcing him to let go.

“There we go. Careful, kiddo. You were hurting yourself.”

Jack scoffed, or tried to, but as he hadn’t stopped crying yet it sounded a little like a scared cat. “Right. Like I d-don’t deserve it.”

“No.” Dean’s voice was suddenly rough again “No, you don’t. Kid- Jack, look at me.”

Jack didn’t want to, but Dean reached for his chin softly and, carefully, as if the Nephilim was made of glass, he brought his face up.

“I-I ruined it, Dean. I broke the mug.”

“Yeah.” his voice was soft again “You did. But it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose. You got scared. You shouldn’t have been so careless, but you didn’t mean to do it. I know you didn’t. Okay? You just have to be more careful next time. It’s fine. You’re fine, okay? I’m... I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Jack stared at him. His lips were slightly parted and his face was still tear stained. Dean ran his thumbs through his cheekbones, drying his tears softly. Jack let him.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have... Used them. My- my creepy powers.”

“No, Jack, it’s okay. Those powers, they’re not creepy, okay? They’ve helped so many people before. They’ve saved us. And they’re a part of you, and you’re not creepy, okay? You’re not. I’m sorry I said that. I was wrong. And I shouldn’t have- Shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack looked like he was waiting for the punchline. He studied Dean’s face, and eventually he stuttered out “It’s... It’s okay, Dean.”

“We both fucked up, huh?” he chuckled softly, and Jack did so too.

“Yeah. I guess- I guess we did.”

“Well, I’m the adult. I can’t let this happen again. I’m not going to. Okay? I’ll be more careful too. I just- I lost it, Jack. I’m so, so sorry. I hope you know how wrong I was. You’re not bad, Jack. You didn’t do this on purpose. You were just trying to be faster. It’s okay. You made a small mistake. It’s no biggie. I need to keep it cool next time, okay?”

“No! No, there won’t be a next time, Dean. I’ll be more careful, I promise!”

Dean smiled. “I know, Jack, I know you will. But you’re four. You’re gonna make silly mistakes like this. Your job is to try a little more everyday. Okay?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “I will. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will, little guy. I will, too, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“I promise, too.” Jack smiled at that. Dean swept his hair from his face, leaned in and kissed the kid’s forehead. He beamed. And then he stopped. Dean glanced at his face.

“But, Dean... It’s, it’s broken, now. We only have the cake and the card.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll love them, Jack.”

“Yeah, but... It’s... It’s Cas, Dean. He deserves better.”

Dean contemplated for a second. And then he smiled. Jack tilted his head in a very Cas-like fashion.

“I have an idea.”

Cas turned around in Dean’s bed, hoping to find the man laying next to him. He didn’t. 

It wasn’t unnexpected, you see, Dean woke up early everyday. Cas wasn’t used to sleeping, but when he did, he slept in late. He only needs his four hours after all. But honestly, Cas couldn’t help but wonder if there was some shame in there.

He glanced around the room and decided it would be best if he got dressed. He got up, groaning softly, then retrieved his underwear and pants from Dean’s desk. His shirt was on the ground. Tie and trenchcoat were perched on a chair. His cellphone was on his pocket. He thought about going out, maybe make Jack some breakfast, but it was still early and the kid was probably asleep. So he decided to go back to bed (without his trenchcoat, mind you, not even he is that formal).

Immediately as he laid down there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” he slurred out, still sleepy.

Whoever was on the other side hesitated. “Are you... Decent?”

Cas couldn’t stop his smile. “Yeah, Dean, I’m decent.”

“No, like... Jack- Jack is here, Cas.”

There was a laugh on the other side. “Dude?” Sam whispered. Cas decided to pretend he didn’t hear him.

“Come in, Dean. Unless you want me to put on my shoes as well.”

The door opened and the first thing Cas noticed is that Dean’s whole face was red as a tomato. The second thing was that he was holding a cake covered in chantilly and skittles and the third is that he was followed by Jack and Sam.

Oh, no, did he forget anyone’s birthday?

But they didn’t sing. Instead, Jack jumped on the bed, holding something colorful. Sam was right behind him, holding a wooden platform and placing it on the bed. It was like a support so nothing would fall. Dean put the cake on the platform and Jack placed something too.

Cas blinked.

“Uh, wh-what’s... Did I... Miss something?”

“It’s Father’s Day!!” Jack beamed. Cas couldn’t help but mirror his smile. But he was still a bit confused.

“O-okay, so...?” Jack leaped at him, involving him in a hug.

“Happy Father’s Day, dad!”

Oh. Oh! “Jack!”

“Kid’s super excited. It’s your first Father’s day without an apocalypse, after all. So, we... Yeah. We did something.” Dean tried to explain. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Cas stared at him like he’d personally brought him the moon.

“They did something for you, too, Cas. Look!” Sam pointed at the colorful package at the improvised table. He noticed, then, that it wasn’t a package. 

It was a mug involved by a colorful ribbon. The one he usually used. It used to be white and bland. But now, there was a blue tie doodled on it, and in Dean’s unmistakable handwriting it was written “WORLD’S BEST DAD”. It was filled with coffee and chantilly, just the way he likes it.

Cas held it in his hands and couldn’t stop the tears flooding his face. 

For a second, Jack panicked. His eyes widened and he looked between Cas and Dean questioningly. Dean reached a hand to his shoulder and whispered “I think he likes it, Champ.”

“But- But he’s crying?”

Cas sniffed loudly, then. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t expect it. World’s best dad, him? “They’re... T-they’re tears of joy, Jack.”

Sam giggled sofly. He brought his cellphone up and started recording. He was happy he did, because just at that moment, Dean leaned down and kissed him wholeheartedly.

Like, on the lips. Full on romantic kiss. The type they show on TV. 

If Jack was surprised, he didn’t show it. But he was happy, that was clear. Sam, however, cheered them on. “Oh, fucking finally!”

Dean showed the camera his middle finger. Jack tilted his head again, and Sam zoomed in on him, mumbling something about “like father, like son”. When they broke apart, their pupils blown and panting softly, Dean cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. Cas was at loss for words.

Jack seemed to remember something, then, and shoved his card on Cas’ face with no mercy. “Oh, oh! I also made a card! And Dean baked the cake! We painted the mug together. He taught me how to draw a tie. Do you like it?” 

“Liked it? Jack, I love it. Look at it! You drew a bee, too! It’s so pretty.” he sighed contented while Dean tried to steal Sam’s phone only to find he had already sent the video to Eileen. Jack stared at him with childlike wonder, and Cas was almost scared for a moment because of how happy he was. But it was okay. He was allowed to be happy. He deserved it. “I love it. Thank you, so much. All of you. It’s perfect- you’re perfect.” he turned to Dean, with Sam’s hand on his shoulder as he cooed childishly. “I love you, Dean.” And then he turned to Jack, the kid smiling in blissful, childish naivety. “And I love you, son.”

“See?” Dean grinned, nudging Jack playfully “I told you he’d love it.”

[corvus--rex]

Semi-abandoned soulmate au. I actually started this one before The Sound of Color, although this is vastly different from that one. This particular au also doesn't have the requirement that soulmates are always romantic (ie Pidge and their soulmate). It jumps around a little, and those sections are marked with dividers. Soulmate strangers-to-lovers. . .

~*~*~*~

Soulmarks. Everyone had one. An indelible mark that bound two people together. Age 13 was when it would start. The mark “waking up” as some called it, and reaching out for its companion mark. Most soulmates were within a few years of each other, so the lingering tingle of a mark searching for its mate usually didn’t last long.

Lance was lucky that way. His mark sprang to life on his thirteenth birthday and quieted three months later. There was no way to know who or where his soulmate was at that point, but he knew they were three months younger than him. He had been getting ready for school that day when the constant tingle in his mark faded.

He’d always liked the quarter note-shaped mark on the inside of his left wrist. What confused him were the numbers that circled it. No two marks were the same, and Lance knew that his soulmate would have something different. But those numbers confused him. 1030211933. Trying to figure it out was a favorite pastime throughout middle and high school, but he never could get there. He hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but he hoped that it would make sense when he did.

Once two marks found each other, the secondary connection opened. The marks on the soul allowed for marks on the body. Words, doodles, full-blown artwork. Drawing or writing on skin would appear on a connected soulmate. Once Lance’s mark had connected, the first thing he did was ask his soulmate about the numbers. They didn’t know either. But he did find out that his soulmate’s mark sat on their right hip, it was a feather, and they didn’t have those numbers but they did have a series of roman numerals along the feather’s shaft that read:

X X X X X X I X I X X X X I I I

They continued to talk for years, learning about each other. They had decided not to share identifying information like names or location, but Lance knew that his soulmate had a twin and that their parents had adopted their cousin when their cousin’s parents died in an accident. They didn’t know anything about the accident because they’d been too young at the time and no one had explained it since. Lance told them that he had three siblings, that he was a twin, too, and that his older sister connected with her soulmate the same day he had.

He lay in his bed in the dorm he shared with his best friend Hunk, rereading the last message his soulmate had sent him about how college sucked and how they already had an in-class performance a month into the semester. He’d responded with a note about how trying to balance classes with rehearsals as the lead in his school’s fall musical was kicking his ass. Lance already knew that his soulmate was studying music at a college close to where they grew up. And they knew that he was majoring in theatre at a college a three-hour drive from home.

Hunk trudged into their dorm room and threw himself onto his bed. “Remind me again why I decided this was a good idea?” he groaned.

“Which part?” Lance asked in return.

“The part where I decided to be a pastry chef and subject myself to the hell that is the one professor I can’t get away from?”

“Because you love baking and always have and one asshole can’t make you hate doing what you love.”

“I swear she just likes to terrorize us. There’s that guy I told you about – Sal, the one I had a class with freshman year and he transferred to general culinary and now he’s back – she hates him. And I don’t know why. But then, she hates me, too. Pretty sure it’s that bun. It’s so tight she doesn’t need a face lift. But I’m also convinced that Chef Dayak is just evil.”

“Hey, at least you have Shay there with you. Not everyone gets to have their soulmate in class with them all day,” Lance pointed out.

“How’s it with yours?” Hunk asked.

“We’re working our way up to talking about meeting. I know I wanted to wait until after graduation, but I’m getting impatient, y’know? It’s been eight years and I don’t want to wait anymore. But I get that they do. So…yeah. Anyway,” he said, shaking himself out of that particular spiral, “You going to the Halloween party this year?”

“Dude! It’s a month away!”

Lance sat up, turning to his best friend, one eyebrow arched. “Seriously? You say this like there’s such a thing as too early. And no, it’s only three weeks. We need to start now.”

Hunk groaned again, this time in only partial exasperation, and sat up. “Fine. The fuck are you planning this year?”

Lance just laughed. Hunk threw a pillow at him, collapsing in his own fit of giggling when a startled Lance took the pillow directly to the face. Lance’s alarm sounded, loud and annoying. He groaned, throwing Hunk’s pillow back, and fumbled for his phone to turn the blaring sound off.

“Fuck me. I have to get to rehearsal.”

In an apartment just off campus, Keith stopped playing and pulled the pencil out of his hair, making yet another correction to his scribbled sheet music. He started over, again, ignoring the key in the door and his roommate coming back in. He ignored their slight form dropping their overpacked backpack on the floor and throwing themselves onto the other end of the couch with their laptop and notebook. Keith was too focused on his music to pay much attention to Pidge.

Except that Pidge wanted his attention right then. “Hey. Asshole,” they said, throwing a ball of notebook paper at him.

“Yes, hellspawn?” he asked casually, setting his guitar on its stand by the couch, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m on the committee for the party. You’re coming,” they said while typing away on their laptop.

“No. I’m not. I don’t go to parties, and you know it. Why the fuck are you so determined for me to go?”

Pidge looked up, fixing him with their stare. “Because I said so. And because Matt’s going to be there. His girlfriend’s going too. You actually like Neve. So you’re going.”

“Including you, that’s three people I’d be willing to talk to. Why should I bother?” he stopped, a dreaded thought sparking as to why they were so hellbent on his going to the party. “It’s because it’s a week after my birthday, isn’t it?”

“What? You mean that thing you ignore every year except for the proliferation of doodles from your soulmate? Why would that have anything to do with it?”

“I'm still not going,” Keith insisted.

“We’ll see about that,” Pidge answered cryptically. They went back to their laptop, typing furiously. They stayed that way, ignoring Keith’s death glare until he gave up and went back to his music.

Eventually, Keith decided that the music portion of his brain was fried and gave up for the night. Pidge was buried in their laptop, writing a paper for their robotics class at top speed. Ignoring them for the moment, Keith opened his own laptop, going back to the English assignment he still hadn’t finished. It was due by the next class, which was two days away, but he’d been putting it off for longer than that. He typed lazily at it for a while before a horrible thought hit him and he realized that his previous assessment had been wrong. He glared up at Pidge over his screen.

“She’s going, isn’t she?” he asked.

“Who?” Pidge asked back, pretending they didn’t know what he meant.

“You know who.”

“If you’re referring to your sister, then yes, she is.”

Keith sighed. “Just because she knows who her soulmate is now, that doesn’t mean that you’re right. Mine could be literally anyone.”

Pidge closed their laptop. “And you’re in denial. I can not believe that your twin sister happens to have a soulmate who has a younger brother who is also a twin and his soulmate has a twin. The odds of that happening are so small as to be inconceivable! Not to mention the part where Acxa’s soulmate and her brother both connected with theirs on the same day.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that it’s weird. But you don’t know anything about Acxa’s soulmate’s siblings, and neither does she. And not everyone’s met theirs yet. You haven’t! All you know is their handle on Steam!”

“So? I also know that Beezer’s on the other side of the country. I know that we won’t get to meet in person until after graduation. All I'm saying is that this is a little too weird to be a coincidence.”

“And I’m not going to let you harass my sister’s soulmate about her siblings on the day they’re meeting face to face for the first time. Leave it alone, Pidge.”

“Fine,” they said, going back to their paper.

Keith knew full well that Pidge would not leave it alone, but there was only so much he could do to stop them.

A few days later, Lance dragged his twin sister, Hunk, and Shay to the nearest Halloween pop-up costume store. None of them had found anything they liked, and Lance was getting bored. Shay had wandered off to the decoration part of the store, and Hunk was making sure the twins didn’t get into trouble. But Hunk had gotten briefly distracted and lost them.

“Jules no.” Ah, there was Lance.

“Jules yes.” And his sister.

“Are you two still arguing?” Hunk asked as he approached the twins.

“Hunk,” Lance said, putting his hands on Hunk’s shoulders, “She wants us to be the Wonder Twins again. I absolutely refuse. We did that once when we were like nine.” He felt something hit his back and whipped around to find his sister holding a Wonder Twins costume. “Ana Julieta Alameda-McClain, get that fucking thing away from me.”

“Oh, fine. You’re no fun,” Jules pouted. She put it back, then turned around, spotting something else. “Ooh! Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch?”

“What the fuck – no! I’m never going Halloween shopping with you again. You’re on your own,” Lance said, wandering off and taking Hunk with him.

Hunk was laughing. “Why do you keep letting her do this, dude?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, I say we go over to The Costume Company. I think I’m done with mass-produced crap.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go find Shay and meet up with you two at the car,” Hunk agreed, heading in the direction he’d last seen Shay.

Lance reluctantly went back to his sister. “We’re going to The Costume Company,” he said without getting her attention.

“Hm? Ok,” Jules answered, not paying attention to her twin.

“Bye, then.” He started to leave without her, getting halfway down the aisle of the Halloween pop-up before she realized what he’d said.

“Lance! Get back here, you ass!” she yelled after him.

He ignored her as payback for her insistence on twin costumes and kept going. She chased him all the way to his car, where Hunk and Shay were already waiting. Lance finally lost his composure, cracking up when he reached his waiting friends.

“Leandro. Alejandro. Alameda. McClain. I am going to kill you,” Jules growled while out of breath from chasing him.

“No you won’t,” he said, “Mamá would kill you in return.”

Shay saw her opportunity and took it. “Shotgun!” she announced, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Shay, I love you,” Hunk said, getting in behind Lance, effectively separating the twins.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Acxa, just promise me you won’t give in to Pidge. They’re being totally insufferable with this,” Keith said. He lay on his bed, earbuds connected to the call he was on with his twin.

“You know me better than that. Gremlin won’t get shit out of me. And she’s not getting anywhere near V at the party."

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[svnflowervol666]

Hey!! Could you write an imagine where the reader is an artist and wakes up early, Harry is sleeping next to her and for a few minutes she's there watching him and then decides to draw him while he sleeps and when she's finishing Harry wakes up? Thank you so much ♥️

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of smut

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request! Like always, if you’re interested, let me know what you’d like for me to write next. Take care and tpwk.

Y/N wasn’t very sure how she’d managed to wake up before Harry considering how hard they partied last night. Her head pounded in her ears and she felt an overwhelming sense of dehydration in her throat. The events of the evening were somewhat blurry after Harry handed her a shot of something wretched and led her immediately to the dancefloor to work up a sweat. She knew judging from the fact that she was stark naked in the bed she shared with Harry and the fact that she could see her dress from the night before shimmering in the sunlight off in the corner of the room haphazardly that they’d at least made love to each other when they got home. Aside from that, her mind was drawing a blank.

Seeing as the blinding light from the harsh, early morning sun made it impossible to go back to sleep, she carefully removed the limp, ringed hand that was draped around her waist and wriggled her way over to her nightstand to grab her phone. Fuck, she thought to herself. Her battery was dead and she couldn’t be arsed to lean all of the way down to the ground to reach for her charger. After lying there for a moment and contemplating how to proceed with the morning, in which she decided she certainly would not be getting out of bed to start the day just yet, she reached a bit further past her phone for the sketchbook and pencil that Harry had gotten her for her birthday last year.

It was almost completely full of her drawings and doodles, something she prided herself in. Often times, she’d lose her sketchbook or spill her coffee on it before she could finish drawing in all of the pages. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had gotten this one for her which meant it was special, or maybe it was just luck, but she’d managed to hold on to this one almost down to the very last page. 

In an attempt to soothe her hangover without getting out of bed, she began drawing away. She started by finishing up the flower she had started the other day after saw the most beautiful bunch of daisies while on her daily walk with Harry. Sure, they were technically an invasive weed that took over greenery like wildfire, but Y/N always thought they were beautiful. 

When she’d perfected that one enough to her liking, she flipped the page and started another drawing. This one was also unfinished, and it was a landscape portrait of the bungalow she shared with Harry while on their vacation to Bora Bora last year. She’d been on many vacations and stayed in many nice houses since that trip, but this bungalow she’d never forget. It was where Harry took her to tell her that he loved her, though she hadn’t known that at the time. They had been having the time of their lives, drinking sugary, alcoholic beverages all throughout the day and lounging lazily by the ocean. Harry finally told her while they watched the sunset on their third night there. It slipped out faster and not as smoothly as Harry had imagined the moment in his head, but the overwhelming, swooning sensation he felt in his chest whenever he looked at Y/N made it impossible for the words to not spew from his lips. She’d never forgotten that trip because it was where she fell significantly more in love with Harry than she already had been.

There wasn’t much that needed to be done on the portrait of the bungalow, just some shading on the roof and a bit more detail on the waves that surrounded the structure. She finished that one fairly quickly then moved on to her next blank page. This one, she fucked up. What she had tried to draw one of her old pets from memory, but for some reason, it wasn’t looking right. She quickly scrapped the piece of paper and moved on to the next page, which was coincidentally the final page in her sketchbook.

She pondered for a moment on what idea in her head would earn the final spot in her book of drawings. She could try to draw her pet again? No, she shook her head softly to herself. Hers and Harry’s favorite table at the coffee shop that was down the block from their London apartment? No, she’d need to get a better look at the place before she attempted something like that. She looked around the now bright and sunny space of their bedroom, trying to find something that would shoot a spark in her brain and cause her to think of the perfect thing to draw. As she turned her head towards the sleeping, seemingly unconscious body that burrowed itself into the gigantic, down comforter beside her, it struck her.

Y/N propped herself up on her side so she could get a better look at the scene in front of her. Harry was sleeping the morning away, though she couldn’t say she blamed him since she didn’t even remember coming home last night (or was it technically this morning?). His face was completely covered by the huge down comforter that he’d hogged from her, but she didn’t mind. All that was visible of Harry was the top of his head, adorned with messy, chocolate-colored waves, and the outstretched palm of his left hand. That was it. His hand.

Her hangover had more or less subsided by now without the need of a greasy diner breakfast or a handful of headache medicine, so she was able to work diligently on her newest and final sketch. She traced over every crease and dip of his long, slender fingers, making sure no detail went unnoticed. Every ring, including the large, gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings on his ring and pinky fingers got their own moment in the spotlight. His bright yellow nail polish, the color that she’d picked out for him last week, was slightly chipped at the corners, but it only added to the uniqueness of the piece. Each knuckle she shaded with the closest attention. Unlike her old pet or the table at the cafe, she was almost certain she could draw this from memory, but a little reinforcement never hurt. Plus, she felt like she could stare at Harry’s hands for days on end without growing tired of them.

Harry’s hands were miracle workers for her. They’d held her through both her darkest and brightest days. They’d made her feel safe in times when she’d never felt so alone, and during big moments when she couldn’t be sad even if she tried. Harry’s hands cooked her breakfast on Sunday mornings, carried her to bed when she’d fallen asleep watching Netflix in the living room, massaged her tired feet after a long day of work, brushed her hair out of her eyes before kissing her goodnight each night, made her see stars as he pleasured her over and over again with his skillful fingers. So many times people overlook what hands do in a relationship, but not Y/N. 

It was right when she was shading the corner of Harry’s cross tattoo that was barely visible from beyond the comforter she felt the bed sheets rustle and the sweet creature beside her come to. The peaceful silence of Y/N doodling away was broken when Harry moved his hand, the one she had been drawing, towards his face to rub harshly at his emerald green eyes.

“Wha’ ‘re you doin awake? ‘ts so early,” she heard his groggy, morning voice pierce the walls of the room.

“It’s almost noon, Harry,” she responded softly, letting the sketchbook fall gently into her lap.

“Oh, shit,” the lanky brunette chuckled, “Wha’ did we do last night?”

“I was actually hoping you could tell me.”

“‘ve got no idea, princess,” Harry groaned before reaching over to pat her thigh, feeling the hard material of her sketchbook instead.

“You drawin’? Lemme see.”

He plucked the open notepad from her lap to examine what she’d been drawing while he was asleep. She didn’t feel embarrassed or like she needed to snatch the book away from him before he could see that she’d been drawing his hands whilst he slept. That was another thing Y/N loved about Harry, how she never felt shy or that she needed to hide her art from him. He always praised her work whenever he crossed paths with it, so she was always willing to share her latest masterpiece.

“M’ hand? You drew my hand while I was asleep?” Harry was still delirious from a combination of his hazy, half-asleep half-awake state.

“I love your hands,” she stated firmly but softly, “plus, it was the last page in my sketchbook so I wanted it to be of something important.”

“Hmm,” Harry pondered as he cased over the drawing once more, “I like this one, but I think I much rather prefer the one you drew of my co-”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Y/N interrupted his sentence and yanked the sketchbook from his grasp before placing it back on its home on the nightstand.

She took her rightful half of the comforter back from Harry and nestled herself back into bed, making sure to cozy right up into Harry’s warm, bare chest so they could have a proper, conscious cuddle before dreadfully starting their day. The two of them were adults now and while they were still granted the privilege of being able to party, they couldn’t stay in bed and waste the day away after a long night of drinking like they used to.

Harry traced soft circles on Y/N’s back with the same hand that she was drawing just minutes ago, almost lulling her back to sleep. He watched as her breathing evened out and her eyes began to droop despite her awareness that they had a late lunch planned with Anne and Gemma in a few hours. 

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her back to consciousness.

Her eyes blinked open quickly, unaware of how she’d almost went right back to sleep in Harry’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve got to meet up wi’ mum and Gem soon. ‘Need to get up.”

“Ten more minutes.”

This made Harry chuckle, seeing how she was acting like a grumpy teenager who refused to wake up for school in the morning. God, how he loved her.

“How about I show you just how important my hands are to you and then we hop in the shower, yeah? Sound like a plan?”

She opened one eye just slightly enough to see that Harry was giving her his iconic smirk that caused one of his dimples to shine through. Leave it to Harry to squeeze in a shag before lunch with his own mum.

She supposed she really couldn’t say no to that.

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets VII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, name calling

•••

You could feel the sunlight on your eyelids, making everything behind your eyelids appear as a dark red. But almost as soon as the sun was on your eyes, it was gone. The side of your bed dipped down when weight was added to the mattress and a gentle hand was holding your shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing you awake. 

“Y/n. . . c’mon, wake up.”

Opening your eyes you could see Jonathan sitting next to you, Nancy next to him, looking down at you, holding a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. 

“Wha?” You didn’t have enough energy to pronounce your ‘T’ in the word, knowing that they understood what you were trying to say while laying down in your bed, early in the morning with your hair sprawled out around your head. 

“Get up, c’mon. Get dressed.” Jonathan was being gentler than he had been the day before. Instead of barging in and making a ruckus while you were just waking up, he was being nice about it. 

“Why?” You asked, leaning more into the pillow underneath your head, pulling the duvet closer to your shoulder that were exposed to the cold air. 

Jonathan avoided the answer to the question. “I’ll explain in the car. C’mon, we got you coffee. Rise and shine.” With that he stood from the bed and you grumbled a bit at feeling the sunlight back on your face. The door to your room, wide open. 

Nancy placed the cup on the bedside table, and she stared for a moment at something on the table by the lamp. Something you didn’t have enough effort to even look at. 

You sat up, grabbing the coffee and taking an unsure sip, testing the dirty bean water to see how hot it was. 

“What’s this?” Nancy asked, picking up what she’d been looking at. You turned your head, feeling your knotted hair move across your bare shoulders. She held up your long dead phone, the black screen smudged with your finger prints and a bit of dried goo by the home button. 

It’s not that you couldn’t charge it, you had the charger for it. You supposed out of all of the moments you could have gone missing and end up in the past, you chose the right one, with all of your essentials being in your bag when you ran off. But charging your phone, only to see the photo your Uncle took of a place called Balboa Park in California, made you nervous. The thought of seeing photos in your camera roll of your family scared you. 

“That’s uh. . .” You struggled for a few seconds for words. “My phone.” You answered. 

“ There’s only one button.” Nancy observed. “Oh, sorry, four.” She corrected herself upon seeing the volume and power buttons. 

“Nancy, we don’t know how future technology works.” Jonathan told her, going to the open door and closing it, returning the room to the dim lighting you usually kept it in whenever you went to bed, or wanted to lay in bed and be depressed. 

Your attention turned to Jonathan as he turned back around and saw you staring at him. 

“I believe you. You left this at my house.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out your sketchbook. With everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed you’d left it at the home when you’d left. But that meant he’d had it for since before the funeral. and hadn’t mentioned it. 

He flipped to a page where there were different doodles you and your Dad had done while eating pastries and drinking warm cafe beverages. He usually always got a coffee, you always got a hot cocoa when you went with him. It was tradition every Friday. 

“That’s not his DnD character. It’s one of his friends.” Jonathan pointed to one figure on the paper, that was colored in with crayon, because yes, you and your father still used crayons. 

“It’s Mike’s. He doesn’t know you, there’s no way you could know his character, so that means you’re not lying” Nancy spoke, placing the dead phone onto the bedside table again while you got out of bed, placing the coffee on the table, not caring that you were wearing a tank top and underwear, with no bra. 

“Y/n-” Jonathan started, only to get cut off by you.

“Why would I lie? What would the benefit be for me, huh?” You demanded, walking to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans and pulling them on over your underwear. “Oh, yeah, I’m Y/n Byers, haha, jk, jk, just fucking with you.” You said in a mocking voice, mostly to yourself as you zipped up the jeans and grabbed your belt. “As if I’m not gonna be talking about this shit in therapy ten years from now, in- oh wait, not my year, but rather fucking 1993! Mean Girls won’t even be out yet, the fucking IPhone won’t be invented yet! I’ll have to continue going to a fucking payphone every time I wanna call someone if I’m not here!” 

It was all getting on your nerves, it wasn’t very late in the morning, meaning they woke you up way before you were supposed to, and while the coffee would help, you didn’t appreciate them somehow finding the spare key you had to the room. 

“Oh, and I’m gonna have to keep saying Czechoslovakia instead of the Czech Republic and Slovakia because they won’t separate for another ten fucking years!” That was directed in Jonathan and Nancy’s way, and they both blinked in surprise, staring at you as though you’d lost your mind, and if a stranger had heard you, they would think you did. 

But Jonathan was the one who stuttered his way back into conversation. “Al- alright. . . Any-anything else?” He asked, holding the strap to his bag that was resting on his shoulder. 

“I have plenty of shit to complain about, Jonathan. I’m choosing to not start a fight right now.” 

Jonathan was stunned back into silence, watching as your demeanor was now that of a sad toddler. Your moods always fluctuated for about an hour or two after you’d woken up. Pulling the belt through your belt loops you reached into another drawer, pulling out a sweater and bra and walking to the bathroom. “Can’t even change in peace, in my own damn room.”

•••

“No! No, we’re not going off of a theory that this thing is like a Lion, Coyote, fucking Bear hybrid in behavior!” You yelled from the backseat, still holding the coffee. “It is 7:52 am, guys! I should be in bed, not yelling at you two for a stupid idea, a- a- a fucking hunch!”

Nancy turned in to face you from her seat, He blue eyes intense with determination as she stared at you. “If Will’s your dad, you want to find him, right?” 

“That’s not fair-”

“If you want to make sure you’re still born, this ‘hunch’ is all we have.” Nancy shot back, silencing you as you sunk into the carseat, holding the cup closer and taking a slow sip, intentionally making the annoying slurping noise, only to be disappointed and even more annoyed when Nancy turned away and faced the windshield again. 

“You’re both gonna get me killed.” You commented lazily, propping your feet up on the center console, continuing to drink your unflavored and unsweetened coffee, grimacing at the taste every time, but hoping and praying that you hadn’t built up a tolerance to caffeine. 

Jonathan pulled into a spot that wasn’t ‘technically’ a parking spot, and turned off the car, turning to face you like Nancy had. 

“Okay, do you- do you know of any way you could possibly get back to, you know. . . your time? I’m sorry what year?” 

You stared at Jonathan for a moment, because he had such a familiar face, and yet, he felt like a stranger. “I think I’d have to go back to that place. And although I really do love being able to say things other people understand, I think I’d rather live through history than go back there.” 

Your attitude changed, going from light-heartedly bitter about being woken up, and annoyed with their plan to get the monster that you called a Wendigo, to sad and down. Because it made it real. 

You’d never fall asleep in the back of the car listening to your Dad and Pa playfully argue and banter while your brother blasted his music so loud you could hear it with your own headphones on. 

Long days where you went to school, your brother’s orchestra performance, and then dinner would no longer be a thing. Your nights wouldn’t end with your Dad putting your music on for you. Because no matter how old you’d gotten, your Dad was still your Dad, and he’d always been there, even if it was for something as simple as turning your music on for you. 

Looking down at your lip you fought against the tears, refusing to cry in front of them. That was only something you did alone. 

“I’m gonna get some food.” You said quickly getting out of the car with your bag in hand. Jonathan followed suit.

“Y/n-”

“Stop.” Your voice shook as you looked at him. Holding the top of your backpack with a death grip, “You two go buy your fucking Sam and Dean Winchester bullshit, I’m gonna get something to eat. It is eight in the morning, on a Saturday! I am tired, I am hungry.” You told him. “So, I am going to go to the cafe down the street and get a muffin or a breakfast sandwich, and I will meet you back here!”

You didn’t mean to constantly be yelling at Jonathan, after all, he was one of your only uncles. But this wasn’t your uncle. He was just Jonathan Byers, whose brother was stuck in a dark and scary place, hiding like you had.

And you were just a kid. A teenage girl who didn’t know what to do. Who felt as if your world was crumbling all around you, pinning you to the ground so you couldn’t get up.

The only thing you could do right now to make anything around you seem even remotely okay, was to eat, try and pretend like you didn’t just choose your fate in the back of an old Ford while a sixteen year old version of your uncle stared at you. 

So you’d gone down the street, fighting against tears until you heard people talking, verging on hushed arguing. So you looked up and saw the movie theatre sign, the letters put into place to say ‘All the Right Moves’ but right after, red spray paint saying ‘Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’ 

You knew the hand writing, with Steve having once convinced you to look over Tommy’s English paper. You’d given up barely halfway in, the spelling getting on your nerves and the grammatical errors hurting your head a bit too much. You’d told him to go to one of the tutors in the library. 

Looking down the street a bit more you saw the culprits, Carol, Tommy, Nicole and of course Steve. 

There wasn’t a reason in the world for this. And although you’d never been in a relationship, you knew how a boy's mind worked. Especially a boy like Steve. Who was turning out to be the biggest asshole in disguise. 

The group of four slipped down into an alley, and as if on auto pilot, you followed them, now ignoring your original plan of getting something to eat.

“Steve!” You shouted when you finally reached the alleyway, watching as Tommy was taking a can of red spray paint from inside his jacket. Their attention turned to you as you made your way over the older male, who’s facial expression and body language was unreadable. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

Tommy uncapped the can and stepped up a small set of stairs that only took him up off the ground about a foot, and started working on a cruel message on a piece of plywood. 

“Y/n, just go home.” Steve said firmly when you reached him. Shaking your head you stared up at him. You didn’t know why you were angry. You had no right to be. He wasn’t your problem, and your dads always told you to ignore men and boys like Steve Harrington. 

“Steve, just tell me what happened.” You urged. You shouldn’t be giving him a chance to explain himself, you could have just turned him and his friends in as the vandalizers of the theatre. You should’ve, because you should still be angry over Jonathan’s camera. 

“What does it matter?” He questioned while you grabbed the sleeve to his navy blue jacket. 

“It matters because that’s public humiliation, not only in general, but to the girl who I’m pretty sure you’re dating?”

Steve only huffed and pulled his arm away from you. “This is why it doesn’t matter. Cause see, you have this little soft spot Jonathan Byers, you’ll defend him no matter what I say.” He huffed, looking away from you and at the letters Tommy was writing with the spray paint. 

“Steve, that’s not fair. You were being a grade A cunt when you broke Jonathan’s camera, okay? And now? You’re acting like a little bitch. Your little feelings are hurt because of something Nancy did, so you’re gonna humiliate her? Stay classy, Harrington.” 

He turned his gaze back to you, glaring. Now his feelings were evident, he was angry and sad. And wouldn’t tell you why. 

“Hey, L/n, wanna know something that even my little sister knows?” Tommy asked, pausing for a brief second and looking down at you, a cigarette between his lips. You quirked up an eyebrow. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

You scoffed a bit at Tommy’s comment, a bitter and fake grin coming across your face as you put your hands on your hips. “I wish I could say I’m surprised that you're a misogynistic piece of shit, but I’m not.” You looked back at Steve, taking a step back from the group. “God. Steve, I thought you could be a good person. But you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met”

You went to leave but the moment you turned around, you saw Nancy, close to angry tears as she walked down the alleyway to where you all were. You stood in place, not leaving her side, and not Jonathan’s either as he followed after Nancy. 

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol said with feigned happiness as Nancy finally reaches her spot in front of Steve. 

“Uh oh. She looks upset.” Tommy stated the obvious while you gave the couple space, leaning against a parked car and watching as Steve turned to face Nancy. As well as watching while Nancy raised a hand to slap him against the side of his face. The only causing you to flinch being the sound that the three other teens made in reaction to their friend being hit. 

You’d seen worse at school before. Having watched a fight go down where a kid tried to brace his fall after being pushed, and broke the bone in his forearm. You still got shivers whenever you remembered the large bump in his skin where the bone was presing gainst. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy inquired. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, being followed by a scoff, as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“What are you talking about?” It was clear that Nancy was just as clueless as you were as to what was going on with Steve’s sudden betrayal against Nancy. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut do you?” If there was anyone at Hawkins High who you hated more than Tommy, It was Carol. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy hopped down from the top of the small set of stairs. “Hi.” He said with a smile, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and wrapping an arm around Carol. 

Turning you saw Jonathan coming closer, his presence finally being registered by the others. It finally clicked. And it seemed to click for nancy too. “You came by last night?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Looking over to Jonathan he was holding out a hand for you to come over and take. You removed yourself from the situation and went over to your uncle, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Because at times, he was just the face you knew as your uncle growing up, who bought you your first camera in fifth grade, and bought you lightroom and photoshop in sixth when you were thinking about going into photography in highschool. And right now, he was that familiar face, who could see how uncomfortable you were and was offering comfort. 

“What, you just let him into your room to. . .” Steve gave Jonathan a quick glance before looking back down at Nancy. “study?” 

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, your grip on Jonathan’s sleeve tightening. 

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” You wished you could intervene, but you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know what happened last night after you left the Wheeler household. “Finish that sentence.” 

You looked up at Jonathan, and saw the way he was looking at the couple. And it slowly made you realize, that this was your aunt. You’d never called her ‘Aunt Nancy’ she was always just ‘Aunt Nan’ to you, and no one ever bothered to correct you. And maybe you were looking too much into things, but she did look very similar to your aunt. 

“Finish the sentence.” Steve challenged. 

Nancy just took deep breaths to stay calm, while you stood and watched as Steve shook his head at her response of choosing silence. “Go to hell, Nancy.” 

Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed onto Nancy’s arm and pulled her back a bit. “C’mon, Nancy. Let’s just go.” 

You went to turn around but Steve began to talk again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Jonathan and Nancy turned away, beginning to walk to the street again, with you following after until you saw Steve give Jonathan a harsh shove to the back of the shoulder. 

“I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah that house is full of screw-ups.” 

The words were getting to you. Because that was your family. Your grandmother, your asshole for a grandfather, and your uncle. And you’d never let words get to you, but these were striking you deep, and hard. But you didn’t turn away, you just kept taking steps like Nancy and Jonathan who tried to ignore the shoving, and Harrington’s cruel words. 

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. An bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Steve, walk away.” You snapped turning to him while Nancy told Jonathan to leave it alone. 

“I mean, your mom. . . I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-” 

You threw the first punch, your dominant hand balling itself into a fist and colliding with Steve’s nose. And the moment you heard the thud of bones cushioned by skin hitting each other, and the deep, yet dull and constant pain in your knuckles you knew you’d made a mistake, even if it felt satisfying to hit him. Because the moment you pulled back swearing and hissing at the pain in your fist, Jonathan had followed your lead. 

Jonathan’s punch had a bit more weight behind it, and made Steve grab onto a pole to regain balance. You started something, but you didn’t know what.

You screamed out at Steve to stop the moment that he tackled Jonathan to the car you’d leaned against, and so had Nancy. 

When Steve had pushed Jonathan onto his back and on the ground, you felt as if the pain was your own, your spine tensing up the moment you heard the thud. 

“Steve!” You yelled while Jonathan switched their positions, rolling them over so he had the better position to hit. You hated that Steve’s friends were encouraging it. Well, at least Tommy was. Carol and Nicole knew when things had to end. 

It happened fast, with barely any time to process it. All you knew was that Jonathan had Steve on the ground a second time, Steve’s face bloodied and already swelling and bruising when the cop car came. Nicole and Carol running off when Tommy told them too. All you knew was that Jonathan hit a cop, and Steve and Tommy ran.

•••

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​​​ @jxnehxpper​​​​ @yllwtaxi​​​​ @songofcosplay​​​​ @potatopooper05​ 

[fics-kats-procrastination]

Elevators and Disneyland (Chris Evans x Reader)

Word Count: 2.5k

Requested: No

A/N: I’ve thought about making a second part to this depicting their day in Disneyland, so let me know if y’all would want that! (: Also, GIF not mine. Credit to whoever made it. 

     It’s common knowledge that everyone is born with a soulmark that leads a person to their other half. Their perfect someone. A human being with a soul crafted entirely with the intention to complete someone else. Soulmarks are an outline of a hand or finger, placed precisely where a person’s soulmate will touch them for the first time. Once the soulmates have touched, the outline fills in with the soulmate’s favorite color. Unfortunately, your soulmark is still just an outline of a handprint on the right side of your waist. The palm resting above your right hip while the fingers press against the soft skin of your lower back. 

   As a child, the story of how your parents met was used to lull you to sleep. It was your favorite bedtime story. Although you never worried much about meeting your soulmate during the stress-free years of elementary school, the thought of meeting your significant other ran rampant in your mind once you reached your teenage years. Growing up in a small town meant that 97% of people met their soulmate during high school; however, you weren’t one of those people. You graduated from high school with a black outline while the rest of your senior class graduated with a variety of colors painting their skins and massive grins etching their lips. Knowing that your significant other didn’t live in your town, you left home and headed upstate for university. After completing two years and still majoring in undecided, the enticement of a gap year made itself known, leading you to where you are now. 

     You and your best friend, Y/F/N, are currently soaking in the last rays of California’s setting sun by the hotel pool. A vacation to Disneyland was sure to kick a gap year off right and hopefully help you narrow down what career path to take. Y/F/N is lying on her front, eyes closed as she listens to whatever song is on her playlist. Her feet lightly bobbing in time to the music. Meanwhile, you are sitting up in a sun lounger, attention divided between relaxing in the heat or ignoring text messages from your family. While you believe taking a year off from schooling is in your best interest, your parents and siblings feel as though it’s a reckless move. They have no problem making you aware of their dissatisfaction either. 

     A muffled vibration from your hand causes one of your eyelids to drift open so you can lazily peek at your phone screen. Instead of another text message, like you had expected, a tweet from one of your favorite actors popped up in your notifications. You make a mental note to read it later before you casually shove Y/F/N’s shoulder. Y/F/N’s head lifts languidly from her arms and she pulls out an earbud to talk to you. “Are you ready to head back up to the room?” You ask, noticing that the sun is barely visible between the many hotels surrounding your own. Y/F/N nods, sits up, and stretches her arms over her head before grabbing her towel to wrap it firmly around her body. 

     “Do you have the room key?” Y/F/N wonders. “I didn’t bring mine, so I hope that you remembered to grab yours otherwise we’re locked out.” A cheeky smile accompanies the teasing words she throws at you. Rolling your eyes, you stand up and copy Y/F/N’s earlier actions, wrapping the towel around your body to hold in all of the warmth you gained from California’s hot sun. The pair of you pad over to the outside door where you swipe your keycard with an obnoxious grin directed at Y/F/N. The flashing green lights signal that the door unlocked, so Y/F/N tugs the door open, allowing you both to waddle inside. 

     Cool air from the hotel’s air conditioner greets you causing goosebumps to rise along your exposed legs. You silently curse at the temperature change while hurrying over to the elevator. Y/F/N follows closely behind, grumbling to herself. Repeatedly pressing the call button for the elevator, you tug your towel tighter around your frame. “Why is it always so cold in hotels?” You rhetorically mutter as the elevator dings. “Thank the lord!” Y/F/N and yourself enter the, thankfully empty, metal box; you press the button for floor 17 on the control panel as Y/F/N presses herself into the corner in a half-hearted attempt to gain more heat. “Okay,” you begin once the elevator has started it’s ascent, “what’s tomorrow’s Disney action plan?”

     Immediately Y/F/N begins gushing about what rides she wishes to go on first tomorrow and which rides could be saved for a later day on your trip; however, you’re only half-listening because the elevator stops on floor 9 to pick up three new male passengers, all of them fit, attractive, and wearing ball-caps as well as sunglasses. There’s something about the blue NASA hat that catches your eye. You squint, studying the cap more intently until you notice the wearer of it flashing you a timid smile, fidgeting with his long fingers. You offer him an apologetic smile for the obvious discomfort you caused him and allow yourself to tune back into Y/F/N’s rambling. “-Mountain needs to be done first thing though!” 

     “Of course!” You agree, trying to appear excited about the following day, although you’re not sure if you caught anything she said. The elevator steadily climbs, reaching around floor 15 before the lights flicker followed by an unusual rumble. A pit forms in your stomach while all of the elevator’s occupants glance unsurely at one another. Your anxiety climbs when the elevator screeches to a halt, causing you to drop the towel and be thrown into the arms of Mr. NASA. His right arm wraps around your waist to catch you and press you firmly to his steady frame. One of your hands land on his bicep while the other presses against his pec in an attempt to steady your own frame. Heart pounding as you right yourself and push your hair out of your eyes with shaking hands, you spare a quick glance around the elevator before asking, “Is everyone alright?”

     Y/F/N pulls herself up from the ground with help from one of the other men on board. A gasp settles in your throat, but doesn’t escape, when you recognize the person aiding your best friend. Although his hair is cropped shorter than previous press junkets and he has more color in his cheeks, you’re positive that you’re standing in the same elevator as Sebastian Stan. His hat and sunglasses lay askew on the floor. “Wait, Y/N!” Y/F/N shouts once she’s fully standing again. Her eyes grow wide, and she crosses the elevator in two long strides before she’s gripping your arm to force you into turning more towards Mr. NASA. His hands automatically find your hips when you stumble a bit from your friend’s enthusiastic push. “Holy…” She trails off and you feel her touch, lighter than air, drawing on the bare skin of you back, visible thanks to your swimsuit’s cutout. 

     “No way!” A deeper voice joins in on Y/F/N’s speculation. A shiver runs down your spine when her touch raises goosebumps on your flesh but your attention is focused on the new speaker. He’s got a slight accent that you're able to connect to Louisiana, New Orleans to be specific. He reaches up to put his sunglasses over the bill of his hat. You notice his eyes trailing along the spot Y/F/N’s still softly tracing-a corner of your mind makes note that Y/F/N’s fingers are doodling the empty, colorless space of your soulmark-before they trail up your arm and Mr. NASA’s arm, settling on Mr. NASA’s broad, strong chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me, bro! Take off your shirt. Take it off,” he bugs NASA. 

     NASA lightly steps away from you with a scoff, exasperation coloring his tone. “I’m not just gonna take my shirt off, Mackie!” Anthony Mackie rolls his eyes at the answer and steps closer to the other male. Anthony reaches for the hem of NASA’s shirt, resulting in NASA swatting at the offending appendages. “Stop it, man!”

     “Take it off, man or I’ll take it off you!”

     “I’m not going to take it off. Stop it!”

     “You made me do this!”

     Soothing motions across your back tear your gaze from the small argument in front of you back to Y/F/N. “Could you please stop that?” You question, goosebumps still littering your skin when she finally stops the constant, moving pressure. Sebastian’s head cocks toward you as you turn to face Y/F/N again instead of NASA. About to thank her for ceasing, your eye catches on a new color in the reflective surface of the elevator’s wall. 

     A small noise of confusion leaves your lips as you twist and turn your hips in an attempt to better stare at the skin there. One last wriggle before the reflection is clear, heart beginning to race faster than a horse at the Kentucky Derby. Your mouth drops open while your eyebrows furrow, hands trying futilely to pull your skin closer to your own eyes. “Judging from your reaction, I’m assuming that hasn’t always been like that?” Sebastian’s inquiry takes you by surprise because...no, it HASN’T always been like this. It’s never looked like this before now! Where a thick black outline of a handprint used to rest, blooming drops of navy blue have filled the entirety of the space. There wasn’t a spot left within the border that your skin was visible thru. 

     Your gaze snaps up to meet Y/F/N’s own ecstatic stare, your hands numbly dropping from their hold on your hips to rest by your side. “Oh...oh!” Pressing a palm to your temple, your body leans until the wall of the elevator is at your back, supporting you as you slide down it to sit. A trembling finger points accusingly at the attractive man still arguing with Anthony. “Y-you’re...you’re my soul…you’re my soulmate!” 

     In spite of your voice being barely louder than a kitten’s snore, both men stop talking and snap their heads towards you. A self-satisfied smirk rests on Anthony’s lips as he cockily says, “Take your shirt off, man.” Eyes slightly glazed over but filled with curiosity, you look over at NASA who takes off his hat and sunglasses then grabs the back of the neck of his shirt and tosses it over his head too quickly for you to see his face. You’re desperate to see what handsome features accompany this Adonis-like body, yet you let your eyes drop to roam over his chest and arms. A splash of Y/F/C dances along his left pec enhancing the same color being sported by his right bicep. A choked off gasp comes from your throat and your breathing becomes shallower the moment you allow yourself to see his face. 

     Eyes bluer than the clearest waters are framed by the thickest set of dark brown eyelashes. They’re overset by well-kept eyebrows, in a shade of hazelnut that perfectly match the messy hat hair he’s currently supporting. A nose shaped like a ski-slope sits proportionately on his face and draws attention down to a full pair of lips. His upper lip is carnation pink and slightly skinnier than the lower lip it rests against but that thought flees your mind when a shy smile causes his mouth to quirk upward while revealing two rows of shiny white teeth, straightened perfectly by years of dental work. Although there’s some light scruff dusting his cheeks and jawline that causes your cheeks to flush, you can tell he was clean shaven a few days ago and your heart lurches at the appealing thought. His tongue quickly peeks out to wet his lower lip while he tries to come up with words to explain the unneeded tension in the atmosphere. You beat him to it.

     “You’re Chris Evans.”

     Chris stares at the floor, gaze resting on his feet that are gently shuffling. His hand rubs at the back of his neck, cheeks flushed with color. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage, sweetheart,” he chuckles, Bostonian accent thick on his tongue. Heat rushes to your cheeks at the familiar sound of his voice. Memories of all the times you’ve gushed with Y/F/N over how attractive Captain America is floods through your brain making the light pink color dusted on your face darken to a rosier hue. A quick glance at Y/F/N’s face assures you that she’s thinking the same thing especially when her eyes meet yours and she laughs awkwardly, cheeks rosy as well. Since he hasn’t received an answer, Chris sweetly prompts again, “What’s your name?” 

     “I’m Y/N,” you answer, a soft grin tugging at your lips that mirrors the one on Chris’ face. Although, you have to admit that the action looks much more enticing on his beautiful features. A strong lurch pushes you against the elevator wall, and soon the elevator is making its ascent once more. Floor 16 passes quickly and soon the elevator stops on your floor. Y/F/N bids goodbye to everyone with a sweet smile and a light wave while stepping out of the elevator. She pauses once outside as she notices that you haven’t followed her. “Oh, this...this is my floor…” you nervously chuckle as you reluctantly side step Chris to exit. You do so and begin to walk away before you whip around and shove your hand into the doors to stop them from closing. You’re able to catch a glimpse of Chris’ downfallen face light up.  “Wait!” You exclaim, “We’re going to Disneyland tomorrow,” you motion between Y/F/N and yourself. “Would you three like to join us?” 

     An awkward silence follows your bombardment. The longer it stretches, the more the smile falls from your lips and the more you’re starting to feel like a fool for even asking. They probably had more important things to be doing than going to Disneyland with you guys. They’re celebrities for crying out loud. Disappointment washes over you and you nod gently while stepping back from the elevator. “Or not. That’s cool too. You’re probably really busy. So um...yeah, I’ll just see you guys another time.” You turn and give Y/F/N a grimace and a shrug. Her comforting gaze just makes you feel even worse. You both start to walk back to your room. 

     “No! We would love to go to Disneyland with you!” Chris proclaims, causing you to turn back to face them. He’s halfway out of the elevator and reaching toward you like he was going to stop you from leaving. “I mean, we’re free tomorrow and Disneyland sounds like a great way to spend a free day.” Matching smiles light up your faces. You can’t wait for tomorrow. 

[sariahsue]

The Open Line - Chapter Eight, Hand Kiss

Ladybug knows that if it weren’t for Adrien, she would have fallen for Cat Noir, hard and fast. And when Oblivio takes her memory, she does just that. Able to keep her memory after the Oblivio incident but still unaware of Cat Noir’s real identity, Ladybug must deal with her growing feelings for her partner, who is desperately trying to win her over. (Rated PG.)

Read Chapter One Here Read Chapter Seven Here

***

A chill autumn wind blew lazily through the park, rustling the leaves, rippling the water, which splashed in its fountain. An owl hooted somewhere behind the bench where two teenage superheroes sat. Both jumped at the noise, the spell of their conversation broken. How long had they been sitting out there? Cat Noir yawned widely, and Ladybug watched with interest as his nose scrunched. Had he always been this adorable? Was she only noticing this now?

"So what time is it?" he asked.

"Uh..." Ladybug quickly fumbled for her yoyo and flipped it open, then blinked at the blinding 1:45. "You have to get up early for school tomorrow, right?" How had they stayed out here that long? They'd never done that before.

"Yeah."

"Then you probably don't want to know."

"Fair enough." Cat Noir stood up and stretched, his tail swinging lazily through the air, the muscles of his back taut. He stopped abruptly, sensing her eyes on him and whirled around. "Like what you see?"

"Yes," she said, standing up.

Cat Noir choked.

"You happy again."

Color rose in his face as he looked down at his claws. "I'll take it," he mumbled.

He was quiet for several seconds, until she thought maybe she'd said something wrong, but just as she was about to apologize, his head snapped up.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for staying out her with me for so long. I don't know if you meant to do that." The words tumbled out of him, getting faster and faster. "And thank you for cheering me up, and even wanting to cheer me up. I appreciated it. You're amazing. I really love spending time with you."

Ladybug could feel heat rising from her heart and into her face. By the time he'd finished, a full blush had blossomed. Why?! He'd said things like this before. Why was he making her blush?

In the darkness, she was hoping he wouldn't notice. She thought about turning away, leaving quickly, hiding her face, but his eyes were so bright in the moonlight that they almost glowed, and she couldn't look away. And when a smile started to creep across his face, she knew she'd been caught.

"You're really pretty, too."

"Wow, shallow," she said, taking a step back. "And I was beginning to think you liked me for my personality." This time, she did turn away to hide her flaring blush. Play it cool, she told herself as she hopped onto the short rock ledge around the fountain. He's just being his normal flirty self. There's no reason to go to pieces. 

Except she was.

"Let me rephrase," he said, walking on the ground beside her. "Your smile is almost as sparkling as your wit. Your eyes are the most beautiful I have ever seen, but they pale in comparison to your kind soul."

"Do you practice these beforehand, or do you come up with them spur of the moment?"

"Oh, I come up with them on the spot."  He poked a black dot on her side, exactly where he knew she was ticklish. She shrieked and almost lost her balance, but as she pinwheeled toward the water, Cat Noir caught her hand and drew her back to safety. Her heart thumped wildly as she stammered a thank you.

This was terrible. Why couldn't she act normally around him? It must be because of how late it was, she decided. She was probably overtired. Even with that new reasoning, she still felt no desire to go home.

"Have I mentioned how creative you are?"

"Are you still doing this?" She picked a penny off the ledge and tossed it into the water before continuing her stroll.

"They way you bring down those akumas." He whistled. "It's like magic."

She laughed. "Aren't you a little too famous to be fangirling?"

"Of course not! And since I know more about you than anyone else..." he trailed off, looking delighted at his insight. He knew her in a way no one else did. She felt the same way about him, honored to be part of this boy's secret life he shared only with her.

"... than anyone else," he continued, "I know more details to fangirl about."

She stopped. The ledge she had been walking around was only a few inches high, but it was just enough to let her look him directly in the eye.

"I'm going to bring a pen to our next patrol," she said, frowning slightly to let him know she was serious.

"Why?"

"So I can autograph your face. You're forbidden from washing it off."

"If you doodle a little heart next to it, you've got yourself a deal," he said, holding out a hand.

Instead of shaking it, she used it to hop down. "We should get going, you goofball. It's late."

"Can I at least get a picture?" He waved his baton around like an overexcited tourist with a new camera, but she suspected this request was real.

"Don't you have enough pictures of me?" she asked. "You took six during tonight's patrol alone."

"Never," he said. "And it was fourteen." Smiling timidly and extending a hand for her, he waited, until she finally slipped in beside him.

"Dork," she said, preparing her camera smile.

"Of course." He moved in even closer. Warmth radiated from him as he held her, letting his head fall on hers. She couldn't help but wrap her arms around him and lean in. When he started to purr quietly, her picture perfect smile morphed into a delighted one.

The baton's camera flashed, the moment was broken, and Ladybug pulled away. "Now we really should get going," she said.

Cat Noir yawned again. "Yeah, I guess."

He bowed, reaching for her hand, which she graciously bestowed. He did this enough that she knew what to expect next, a kiss and a wink and maybe one last flirt, but that wasn't what happened.

He kissed her, his lips lingered over the back of her hand, and Ladybug had to put two fingers to her mouth to remind herself not to call off her transformation. The sudden desire to feel his lips on her skin was as overwhelming as it was unexpected.

When she didn't pull away, he kissed her again. And again. Gently, to make his intentions clear. Again, reverently, so she would know what she meant to him. And again, lazily, a promise that he would kiss her all night if she wished. Ladybug's breath caught as he dragged his lips across her hand, turning it over slowly, and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, where her pulse beat wildly. Unable to respond, unable to do anything but wait and see what he would do next, Ladybug watched as he straightened and held her gaze.

"Goodnight," he whispered, and disappeared into the darkness. She was left stunned, breathless, as she stared after him.

Stumbling back to her room much later, Ladybug collapsed onto her bed and contemplated her ceiling. Since when could Cat Noir shock her into into silence? Actually, she couldn't remember any other time he'd been able to do it. Surprise. That must have been what it was. That's why she had been quiet.

She didn't detransform right away. No doubt Tikki would have words for her about staying out so late or questions about how she felt about Cat Noir. Both seemed like good topics to avoid, so Ladybug waited, her finger idly outlining the areas his lips had touched, until her yoyo buzzed with an incoming message.

Her own face smiled up at her when she flipped it open. Cat Noir had sent her the picture he'd just taken, and it was easy to see why he had wanted to share it. Ladybug had never seen herself so happy in a photo, wrapped around her partner, joyful and absolutely beaming. They were framed by the moonlit fountain in the background, which sparkled like stars.

But it was Cat Noir who drew her attention the most. His head rested on hers, nose in her hair, eyes closed, smiling softly. He was completely at peace as he snuggled against her. There was no one he would rather be with, and it showed in how he held her.

Ladybug debated for less than a second before jumping off her loft bed and turning on her printer. It was too good of a picture not to display. But where to put it? Alya would notice a photo like this, and the questions she would ask about it were best avoided.

By the time it had finished printing, she'd figured out the perfect spot. She tucked it up in a corner next to her loft bed, invisible from below. No one else would see it. It was for her eyes only.

"One more thing," she muttered to no one. She pulled open her yoyo for the last time that night, took a picture of her new decor, wrote a caption, and sent it back to her partner. She detransformed before she got his reply.

Read Chapter Nine Here

***

Author’s note: Cat Noir uses romance.  It’s super effective!  Nice to know his hours of anime research are finally paying off.  

While I was planning this, I tried to stick to what I think their love languages would be, but then when I wrote it, I think I accidentally gave them both mine.  Oops.  Anyone care to take a guess at what it is?  I feel like it’s super obvious in this chapter.

[t0ngue-tech]

Up All Night

“Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.”

↠ fluffy nonsense huhuhu, universityAU ↞

word count: 4.9k

↠ oneshot ↞

A/N: happy new year everyone! 2019 was a ROUGH year for me for so many reasons. i hope this new year will do me good. as a gift for the new year, here’s a little seokjin fic huhu. i hope your new years eve was a fun and safe one (im still hungover a little but im alive lmao) i also hope to put out more fics for you all to love! i love you guise so much! o and there’s a few maplestory references in this fic lol.

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Eatjean: I have no idea why it stopped working. I got this watch last week

Y0urnam3: i think you should just give it some TIME

y0urnam3: get it??????

Y0urnam3: cuz it’s a WATCH!!!

Seokjin slapped a hand over his mouth, but failed to stifle the broken laugh behind his hand. He ultimately released a squeaky laugh that almost had him in tears.

“SEOKJIN. I swear to--”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll log off, Yoongi. Relax.”

Besides studying for hours on end at his desk, Seokjin also spent hours playing an online game called Maplestory. He played for years and even if he was juggling his job, social life, and college, he always made time to play. Seokjin made a lot of friends all around the world through Maplestory and even a handful of his friends in college played. 

“Dude, you’ve been playing since 8:30. I have to solidify this lesson plan and I can’t concentrate with you laughing and slapping your desk every ten seconds.” Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“Sorry, but y/n has been busy with school and we haven’t played together for a while.” Seokjin explained.

Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.

Seokjin met you online through the Monster Carnival Party Quest around four months ago. Being in the last room of the party quest meant having a larger party with characters that had buffs and skills that could be beneficial to the entire team. Seokjin’s party was in need of a healer and happened to choose you, a cleric, to join the party.

For five rounds, Seokjin’s party dominated the party quest and when everyone came to the mutual decision to call it quits, everyone sent each other a buddy request and it all started off from there.

For the next few days, Seokjin found himself logging on around the same time you were online and the two of you spent time farming for mesos, helping each other out with quests, or doing rooms three and four in CPQ because the rooms only required a two-person party. This allowed you two to chat for hours, getting to know each other little by little. Of course, you both took precautions because it was the online world, anyone could be behind their screens and pretend to be someone they weren’t.

After almost a month of chatting as much as possible, you eventually began to trust Seokjin with more personal details of your life. You opened up by venting to him about how your ex-best friend decided to hook up with your newly broken up with ex-boyfriend. Seokjin easily related with you with the same story however, his story happened in high school and he found out himself because he found one of his ex-girlfriend’s blouses in his ex-best friend’s room. Seokjin understood your pain and became an emotional sounding board for you.

Even if Seokjin was your listening ear, the only other information that was shared was each other’s names and major. Honestly, Seokjin was curious about what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, but those things were privileged information that couldn’t be shared that easily. Looking each other up online probably wouldn’t be much help either because there could be a lot of people who had the same names and there would be no way to figure out for sure who was really you and vise versa.

No matter how curious he was, Seokjin respected your privacy and didn’t want to ruin the friendship he had with you.

“You make like you haven’t spoken to her in years.” Yoongi quipped as he typed away at his laptop.

“Just do your lesson plan, Mr. Teacher’s Assistant.” Seokjin laughed and launched a paper ball towards Yoongi’s direction. “I’m packing it in anyways. Y/n has an early class tomorrow.”

↠↞

There were multiple places you could’ve been and your 8 am class was definitely not your first choice.

Your professor for medical terminology had an optional 8 am course which you stupidly decided to attend. It wasn’t because you were failing, your future wouldn’t allow for that. Focusing and studying hasn’t been in your mind for a few days and you needed a refresher.

“Y/n, tell me, why am I even here right now?” Irene dropped her folder on top of the desk next to you and groaned. “I swear my bed was caressing me and begging me to stay.”

You yawned and tapped her desk. “Trust me. I also almost pressed snooze on my alarm but you promised you’d go with me and a promise is a promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you promised you were going to treat me to breakfast after this soooo…”

Fifteen minutes felt like four days. Your professor stood at the front of the class rambling on, clicking through his slides while everyone stared back at him with hollow eyes.

You glanced over at Irene who had half-lidded eyes and lazily swung her pen in between her fingers. She was probably daydreaming about the french toast and hot coffee from the diner across campus.

You found yourself doodling in the corner of your notebook with rough sketches of orange mushrooms, slimes, and a family of snails. The corner of your paper was starting to look like a miniature version of Henesys hunting grounds.

Forty-five minutes dragged on by and your professor finally let the class go. You and Irene both had a 10 am class which was why you promised her breakfast; to pass time and to have girl time.

“Are you sure I can order the french toast and waffles? We’re both broke ass college students, you know.” Irene handed her menu to the waitress and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. We haven’t hung out in a while, so it’s okay.” You assured her.

“That’s because you’re always playing Maplestory.”

Irene wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t mean to spend the majority of your free time cooped up at your desk with your eyes glued to the colorful images on your laptop screen. Some days your logged on to bust ass and level up, but other days you actually waited to see if Seokjin was going to log on as well.

“So, anything new with that Seokjin guy?” Irene sipped her coffee. “Did you ask for each other’s social media yet?”

The answer will always be no.

“I told you, Irene. There’s something about the ‘not-knowing’. Plus, it’s a mutual agreement between us.” You explained for the thousandth time.

“Yeah, but what if he’s a creepy dude trying to hit on you!”

Of course you thought of that, which was also a hidden reason as to you why you didn’t expose too much personal information about yourself. Seokjin only knew your first name, your major in college, and you were sure to change the names of any personal stories that your shared with him.

You made sure to be careful. Always.

“Seokjin has been catfished before on Maplestory and he said it was so embarrassing and painful that he never wishes anything like that one anyone.” This was a story that Seokjin hesitated to tell because of how embarrassing it was, but he knew he had to tell you because he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about him. This was his way of showing you that he trusted you.

“Well, alright y/n. You’re a smart girl, don’t forget that.”

Classes seemed to fly by after breakfast and after a draining study group, you were eager to have some quality time with yourself.

When you fully logged into your Maplestory account, Seokjin was quick to greet you in the text box.

Eatjean: Y/n!!!!

Eatjean: How was class?

You smiled stupidly at your laptop screen.

Y0urnam3: seokjinnnnnn! classes were just as annoying as yesterday

Yournam3: my energy is at 5% right now

Eatjean: I think it’s bedtime for you

A pout formed.

Y0urnam3: nooooo i waited all day to talk to you

Your feelings for Seokjin wasn’t exactly subtle. You weren’t shy to type out things like “I love talking with you” and “I missed you, sorry I couldn’t play yesterday”. It took a lot of courage for you to do so, but you were sure the courage came from not knowing Seokjin face-to-face. If you were to see him in person after saying all of those things, there was no doubt you would shrivel up into an embarrassed raisin.

Seokjin took a little longer to reply than usual. Instead of seeing his screen name, a spam of a character selling a level 200 weapon for warriors filled the chat box instead. Maybe this was a sign that you needed to stop being so forward with him.

/

“Awww, okay then stay uwu.”

Seokjin scrambled around a blocked his screen with his hands. He whipped his head to the side and found Yoongi peering over his shoulder.

“Y-Yoongi, when did you get back?” Seokjin stammered.

“Just now. Aren’t you going to press enter?” Yoongi stepped away from Seokjin’s breathing space and took a seat on his own bed. “And what the hell is an uwu?”

“It’s a way to express, uh, extreme ador--no, just google it!” He learned the phrase from you a few weeks ago and at first, he was just as confused as Yoongi was.

Seokjin took another quick glance at Yoongi who was struggling to kick his converse off his feet and hit the “enter” key on his laptop. 

Within minutes, you replied.

Y0urnam3: OMG YOURE USING UWU ALJDFLKDJ

Eatjean: MY FIRST AND ONLY TIME

Y0urnam3: UWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWU

Y0urnam3: btw can you help me farm for some mesos? I still can’t believe i got scammed yesterday

Seokjin didn’t do anything to hide the smile on his face. Why was the word “uwu” so amusing to him? It was probably because it made you seem a lot cuter than what he originally thought.

In the next hour, Seokjin met up with you help you gain back the mesos you lost. After everything, the two of you circled back to Henesys and stood at a random spot in an empty channel.

Eatjean: Brb ya boi needs a snack lol

He stood up from his chair and retreated to a small table in the room that he and Yoongi dubbed as the snack corner.

“Still playing?” Yoongi asked from behind his laptop screen.

“Yeah. We’re waiting for a few friends so we can LPQ.” Seokjin ripped open a bag of sweet corn balls, sending a few flying to the floor. Just as he bent down to pick up the pieces, he caught Yoongi’s eyes staring at him. “What?”

“I have literally no idea what you just said, but go off I guess.” Yoongi went back to typing away on his laptop. “Oh yeah, before I forget, you’re coming this weekend right?”

Seokjin took a quick second to think about what plans he possibly had this weekend, but nothing came to mind.

“What’s happening this weekend?”

“Dude, Jimin’s party? Penthouse in the city?”

It finally clicked in his brain that Jimin’s uncle lent Jimin his penthouse for the weekend as an early birthday present. Seokjin was invited last week along with Yoongi and they were given strict instructions by Jimin to clear their schedule for Saturday night.

Was it selfish for Seokjin to want to stay back at his dorm and talk to you all night? There was no doubt that Yoongi would agree to go because he has been complaining the entire week about “needing a fucking drink because fuck this lesson plan”. With Yoongi gone for that evening, that meant Seokjin could laugh to his heart’s content all by himself.

“I--” Seokjin dragged on. “I don’t know. I might just stay here and relax.”

“Relax my ass.” Yoongi said in a joking tone. “Seokjin, you’re going. It’s just one night out. Y/n is not going to disappear all of a sudden.”

Of course Yoongi was right. It was just one night off campus and having a drink with his friends was a plan that was long overdue. But Seokjin liked you too much, so it was normal to want to talk to you as much as possible.

Seokjin sighed quietly. An unnecessary battle between the two choices flooded his mind. Going to the party was obviously the answer that settled at the tip of his tongue.

But y/n… ugh but Jimin...

“Fine, okay. I’ll go, I’ll go.” Seokjin lifted his hands in the air in defeat. 

There was no point in telling you about the party because just as Yoongi mentioned, you weren’t going to disappear into thin air. Plus, Seokjin wasn’t your boyfriend. He had no business in telling you every single thing that he was going to be doing.

Eatjean: Okay, back

Eatjean: Sorry my roommate was just telling me about his day

Seokjin waited a few minutes before receiving your reply.

Y0urnam3: ohhhhh this is the teacher’s assistant right?

Y0urnam3: how was his day?

Y0urnam3: and how was yours too!! i forgot to ask lol

He smiled and danced his fingers along his keyboard.

Eatjean: That’s the one! And he’s in desperate need for a drink

Eatjean: My day was alright. We’re already preparing for midterms so that’s a bummer

After hitting “enter”, Seokjin pressed the F4 button on his keyboard making his character have a crying facial expression.

Talking to you was always easy. He never felt the need to force a conversation with you because you both shared the same interests and had an understanding school schedule. If there was a chance where he could meet you in person, he was so sure that it would also be just as easy.

For the next two hours, Seokjin aided you in farming for mesos until the party was full to complete a few rounds of the party quest. Even if his eyes may have gotten dry and his back was tight, he enjoyed the time he spent with you.

Y0urnam3: okay seokjin it is LATE and ya girl needs to sleep

Seokjin frowned.

Eatjean: Already T__T

Y0urnam3: i know in sory

Y0urnam3: im sorry****

Y0urnam3: ive been keeping all school related stuff on the back burner and i need to get accepted into the nursing program i told u about

“Ah..right.” Seokjin muttered to himself.

Eatjean: OH OF COURSE OF COURSE

Eatjean: Pls focus on school too!! Trying to become a cardiologist isnt a walk in the park either so i understand

Eatjean: Study hard and get some rest y/n

After receiving your reply filled with words of encouragement for Seokjin to also study hard, he finally shut off his laptop and flopped onto his bed. Since school was a huge priority for you, this probably meant you were going to spend more time hitting the books and using your computer for actual research purposes.

“If only we had each other’s instagram handles or something.” Seokjin groaned and waited for a response from Yoongi.

The room stayed silent and when he turned around, Yoongi was sitting in his chair with his head tilted backwards and had a red pen tucked behind his ear. His desk was cluttered with debris of papers and his laptop was wide open with what seemed to be an answer key.

Seokjin stared at his sleeping friend for a while. “Yeah. He needs a fucking drink.”

↠↞

“Okay, bitches. Clear your schedules. We are going to get crazy tomorrow..” A mutual friend of you and Irene, Seulgi, dropped her binder and textbook on top of the table where you and Irene were studying.

“Crazy?” Irene questioned. “Really?”

Seulgi dropped herself into the seat next to you and sighed. “No, I’m kidding. I just wanted to invite you guys to my dorm tomorrow to have a study session and a few glasses of wine.”

“Ugh. I’m in. I have been crazed this whole week and I need the alcohol.” You shut your textbook and rubbed your temples.

“Are you sure? You’re not going to isolate yourself and play Maplestory—and I mean that in the nicest way possible.” Irene reached over and clasped your hands with hers.

You laughed knowing there may have been notes of bitterness in her words. “Yes honey, I’m sure. Both Seokjin and I have mountains of work that we’ve been putting off so I don’t know when’s the next time we’re going to be online together.”

Seulgi raised her eyebrows and leaned closer to your shoulder. “And how is it going with Mr. Eatjean? Are you two going to get married in Amoria yet?”

You snorted and gently pushed Seulgi’s head away from your breathing space. To your surprise, Irene laughed along understanding what Seulgi was talking about; she never played the game but you talked about it so much with her that she caught on some of the terminology that was used.

Unfortunately, what you said was the truth. You haven’t been able to play Maplestory in a while and you really missed talking to Seokjin. It wasn’t easy being in the medical field, but you had to give your future career some of your attention at some point.

When Seulgi invited you two over for a study session, you imagined having a few glasses of wine while listening to jazz and getting a lot of work done. However, none of that happened.

Just when the three of you were settled in Seulgi’s room, almost ready to pull out the wine cork, Seulgi receives a very delightful phone call from a friend. Next thing you knew, you were carefully applying lip gloss in the backseat of an uber and Irene was racking her brain over whether or not she wanted to unbutton the first three buttons of her top.

“Ugh, just do it already! Jihyo is going to be there tonight that’s why!” Seulgi gently tugged on Irene’s hand who was holding onto yours. “And y/n, stop pulling the skirt down. That skirt was meant to be that short.”

“I know, but oh my God, the exposure!” You tugged at the end of the black pencil skirt Seulgi let you borrow.

“Sooyoung, should’ve let us know ahead of time about these plans.” Irene complained.

“At least this is way better than studying—hey, Sooyoung!” Seulgi called out.

Sooyoung met the three of you at the elevator and hastily rushed you all down the long hallway that was filled with gorgeous college students. You all entered a doorway that was also filled with students who were either already wasted or making their way towards that level. Some of the students were familiar to you and others were definite strangers; Sooyoung seemed to know most of them.

“Girl, where is your brother anyway? We have to at least greet him happy birthday first.” Irene tippy toed to get a good look of the people in the kitchen.

“He’s in here somewhere. Let’s just find him later.” Sooyoung began pouring vodka into shot cups while you poured sprite into four other cups.

“You know, I keep forgetting you have a brother.” You spoke over the mixed sounds of music and voices of people. “Why don’t you two just go to the same university?”

“Well, you know how it is. Siblings, different majors, scholarships, blah blah blah.” Sooyoung brushed passed the subject and handed out the shots and chasers. “Come on, you girls need to catch up, especially Irene because Jihyo looks hot as fuck tonight—to Jihyo!”

Sooyoung raised her shot cup and while you and Seulgi complied with the cheer, Irene begged you all to tune it down. Although she did mutter, to Jihyo, before gulping down her vodka.

You, Seulgi, and Sooyoung were huddled in one part of the living room to keep an eye on Irene who seemed to be a bit more confident in talking to her crush; all thanks to some liquid courage.

The entire floor was covered with people making it almost impossible to not bump into anyone.

“Oh! Sorry!” You yelled over music. “This place is so boujee! If I ever lived here, I would never leave.”

Seulgi laughed and nudged your shoulder. “Penthouse or not, you never leave your dorm anyway!”

“Ooh! Is it because of that game you’re playing? How is that dude-guy anyway?” Sooyoung slurred.

You scrunch your nose and helped your drunk friend sit down on a nearby chair. “How much did you drink before we arrive?”

Sooyoung gently tugged on your pencil skirt. “Answer me question. When are you and denim jeans getting married in Amoria?”

Seulgi threw a fit of laughter as she explained to Sooyoung that she said the exact same thing.

“We are not getting married in Amoria. We’re not even in a relationship.” You squished Sooyoung’s cheeks with one hand and took a sip from your mixed drink.

“But why not? It seems like you and sack-jeans are into each other. I say, date!” Sooyoung waved her red cup in the air and you and Seulgi did your best to calm her down. A drunk Sooyoung was something else.

“Honey, you need to relax. It’s only eight in the evening and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies right now. We don’t even know what each other looks like.” You stroked Sooyoung’s hair and took another sip of your drink.

“Y/n, just listen to the poor girl and date him!” Seulgi let out a high pitch snicker and gave Sooyoung a high five.

Talking about Seokjin was definitely bringing your mood down. Maybe it was the alcohol messing with your emotions for than usual, but you really missed talking with him.

“Y-Y/n?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around, making eye contact with one of the cutest guys you ever laid your eyes on. He wore a red t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and had jet black hair that was styled upward. If his eyes didn't catch your attention, his lips sure did. The only thing wrong with him was that he knew your name and you didn’t recognize him at all.

“Um and you are?” You questioned, readying yourself to perform some sort of self-defense.

“It’s me.” He gestured to himself. “Seokjin.”

↠↞

Seokjin weaved himself around the kitchen, trying to find a bottle of Grey Goose to refill his drink.

“Damnit, Jimin. How many people do you know?!” Seokjin grunted. “Oh, Joy! Pass me the bottle when you’re done.”

The already-drunk-sister of his friend gave him a thumbs up before filling up the last shot cup and slid the bottle down the counter. Seokjin tried to thank her, but her focus was immediately back to her friends.

“Dude, where’d you go?!” Yoongi bumped into Seokjin, almost making him spill his drink.

“Okay, I know you need this wild ass night, but please relax. This is my favorite shirt. It accents my shoulders.” Seokjin grabbed his friend’s cup to give him a refill.

“Hurry. Namjoon is freestyling in the living room and it’s fucking fire.” Yoongi nudged Seokjin’s arm to make him lead the way into the living room.

Seokjin was more than supportive of his friend’s desire to drink his stress away, but having to deal with Yoongi’s drunk ass plus a few more of his friends was making him wish he was back at his dorm, double clicking the Maplestory icon. But he had to admit, Namjoon was spitting bars.

“Oh! Sorry!”

Seokjin turned around to find one of his friends stumbling over, almost knocking down a group of girls.

“Good grief, Sandeul. Sit here, please.” Seokjin gently forced his friend to sit down on the couch in front of him.

Just a few more hours, Seokjin. Just hold out for a few more hours, then you can drag Yoongi back to the dorm.

“-getting married in Amoria?”

Seokjin chuckled. I guess there are other Maplestory players here.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was trying to catch wind of the conversation behind him. However, the music and crowd was too loud to hear most of the conversation.

“-and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies for now.”

“Y/n, just listen—”

Huh, Seokjin. That’s my name too- WAIT.

Taking the heavy risk of appearing as a creeper, Seokjin turned around and tapped the girl behind him.

Here goes.

“Y-Y/n?”

When she turned around, Seokjin was blessed to see the cutest girl he has ever seen.

“Um and you are?”

Seokjin braced himself and pointed to his chest. “It’s me. Seokjin.”

You widen your eyes and Seokjin could tell you weren’t as convinced.

“U-uh, it’s really me. Eatjean? I just helped you farm for more mesos because you were scammed the day before.” Seokjin’s heart was thundering in his chest. The alcohol could’ve also played a role in that, but it was also because he was extremely nervous that the girl right before his eyes was actually a different person.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You repeated. “Oh my God, you’re really Seokjin!”

The nervousness was slowly exiting his body once he saw the smile that grew on your face. Thank heavens, it was really you.

“Y-Yeah. It’s me! Wow, I just—I’m—w-wow.” Those words were the only ones that Seokjin could muster.

You let out a snicker and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “I can’t believe—”

“Seokjin?! This is denim jeans?! Date her!” Sooyoung suddenly gripped your shoulders.

“Excuse her. Sooyoung get your shit together for a second please—” Seulgi tugged at Sooyoung to leave you two alone. “Continue!”

Seokjin chuckled and looked over his shoulder to check on his friends who were still invested in freestyling. He then took you by the hand to stand in one part of the living room that had a little less people.

“You’re friends with Jimin’s sister?” Seokjin questioned.

“Yeah! We go to the same university. Why the hell hasn’t she mentioned you to me before?” You sighed sadly.

“I’m actually closer to Jimin.” He explained. “I even forget that her real name is Sooyoung. Jimin only refers to her as ‘Joy.’”

You took a sip out of your drink and nodded your head. “What a small ass world.”

Seokjin stuffed his hand in his pocket and leaned in closer to you. “You wanna get out of here?”

↠↞

“I told you to not use the scroll! It only had a fifty percent success rate.” You shook Seokjin by the shoulders who was devastated by the choice he made.

At first, you were feeling hints of regret after quickly accepting Seokjin’s invitation because you didn’t know what his intentions were. But he was just as quick to assure you that he wanted to bring you to his dorm to have some pizza and help him with his character’s accessories.

Seokjin was the perfect gentleman, just as you imagined. He gave you some of his clothes to change into so you were comfortable, he even stepped out of his dorm so you could have privacy. He let you sit in his gaming chair while he took a random stool from inside the dorm. When the pizza arrived, he remembered how much you loved pizza crust so he gave you every single one from each slice he took.

If you knew this was the type of guy Seokjin was, you would’ve gave him your instagram a long time ago.

“Hey, cut me some slack. I took a huge risk here.” Seokjin spun you around in his chair. “And I remember a certain someone who spent almost nine hundred thousand mesos on a staff she ended up not needing.”

“Fine, fine. Touche.” You scoffed and jokingly threatened to leave his dorm.

You scanned Seokjin’s desk and saw nothing but textbooks, what seemed to be study guides, and a few empty coffee cups. Being under the same university major umbrella, you understood the mess all too well.

“How’s your studying going?” You asked, tidying up some of his papers.

“Ehhh. I put the dying in studying.” Seokjin joked and you playfully hit his shoulder. “I’ve been up all night for the past few days.”

“Awww, you poor baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair and his eyelids fluttered closed at your touch. “Well, I guess it’s sort of no different from when you’re playing Maplestory with me.”

“Hmmm, I beg to differ. I actually enjoy spending time with you online.” Seokjin sighed happily. “And maybe I can enjoy spending time with you in person this time around?”

You laughed and brought your hands to your face to hide the blush he caused. “Ohhhhh, very smooth, Seokjin.”

“Do you accept this quest?”

You studied Seokjin’s facial features on more time; his big eyes and pouty lips. After knowing each other through an online game, it was only right for you to finally get to know the real Seokjin. 

From what you already knew, he was a sweet man who enjoyed trying new food, doing word search puzzles, and taking every opportunity presented to him to make some sort of pun. He could be a bit cheesy and a bit dorky, but it was all endearing. And because of all the time you’ve spent reading his cheesy lines through your laptop screen, the next words that came out of your mouth was just as cheesy and dorky, but it fit the moment.

“Quest accepted.”

-

-

-

♡ rae jagi

[tizzymcwizzy]

A Stranger’s New Year’s Resolution - Chap 1

Reposting this cause I messed up the formatting last time!

Here’s to the first fic that I’ve ever written and posted! AUuuGgh okay okay.

Ao3 Link

Chap 2 

This takes place in an AU were there are no powers, and Adrien never goes to public school. So they don’t know each other. Oh, and aged up characters.

There is some alcohol use and talk of alcohol use on this, just as a warning

Summary:

Marinette sat alone at a table for two, sketchbook open and staring out the window at the fireworks that splashed color over snow-covered rooftops. She wasn’t waiting for anyone and no one was waiting for her really. She just sat quietly among the incessant chatter of the tipsy people around her. It was around 10 at night so there was still 2 hours until New Years officially began, but that never seemed to stop people from getting far too drunk far too early.

She flipped the pencil around in her hand and gazed back at her sketchbook. She was doodling some cocktail dresses until she found a design she wanted to stick with and carry onto the next page. 

People-watching is amazing inspiration, she’d found. Especially on nights of celebration when people wore their best and drank lazily, not caring about how they looked. 

Marinette scanned her eyes over the crowd once more and admired a red dress with tassels on the ends. Tassels, hmm. She hadn’t thought about that. She made a quick doodle on her page and put the pencil up to her lips, scrunching her nose. 

“Would you like another drink, mademoiselle?” A waiter asked, peering down at her.

Marinette startled and flipped her pencil. “Oh, no thank you, I’m just fine.” She waved them off with a smile. 

The waiter nodded and smiled as they walked away. Marinette had never been really fond of drinking. Sure alcohol could taste good but hangovers were never fun. Especially alone. She thought, sadly.

She swiped her finger around the edge of her half-empty glass, watching the reflection of the fireworks flash and sparkle. She watched it for a second before gasping. That’s a perfect idea! She swiped up her pencil and made a small sketch. It was perfect. She flipped her page and sketched the dress out with quick lines. 

A hand appeared in her peripheral. Hesitantly tapping the table in front of her. “Excuse me,” he said. His voice was shy, but just loud enough to be heard over the music. Marinette glanced at the hand before looking up. A man stood at the edge of the small table, smiling warmly. “I’m sorry, is anyone sitting here?” He asked. “There’s no other seats open.” He turned around to gesture at the crowd of people that had slowly grown since the evening’s beginning.

“Oh, uh,” she found it hard not to gawk at him. His hair was golden blond, combed back near perfectly and his eyes were stark green, shining brightly with reflections of fireworks dancing in their centers. “Sure, there’s no one sitting there.” She pulled her sketchbook closer to her and gathered her pencils to her side of the table.

“Thanks a ton,” he smiled again. He is really pretty, wow. She nodded and turned back to her sketchbook. He sat down, facing the rest of the bar, away from her. They sat in silence for a bit as he scrolled through his phone and she sketched. Marinette didn’t find it exactly easy to ignore him, but he didn’t seem to be uncomfortable with her presence. As she finished the sketch she found herself wondering what he was doing here alone. Well, she was alone too, but he was far too good-looking to be alone, wasn’t he? She pondered this and glanced up at him. Then jumped internally as she found him watching her. His eyes were trained on the paper and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He noticed her hand pause and he glanced up at her. “Oh, sorry.” He laughed awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” she managed to squeak out in a voice that was close to normal. “You’re fine,” she waved her hand.

He looked back down at the sketch. “That’s really good, you’ve got a lot of talent.” He gestured at the page.

“Oh, thank you.” She gave him a small smile. When most people saw her art they said the same few things like a broken record, she never received just a kind compliment. They sat in comfortable silence, both occupied with their tasks; his being scrolling through his phone and watching the crowd. Her thoughts were drawn back to the fact that he was alone. Was he waiting for someone?

“Adrien! Salut, It’s so grand to see you, would you care for anything?” The waiter appeared at the table again. He smiled warmly and shook Adrien’s hand.

Adrien smiled back just as brightly. “It’s good to see you too, Jackson. You can just get me my usual.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his elbow on the table.

“Would you like anything else, mademoiselle?” Jackson turned to her, pen at the ready.

"No thank you, I’m fine,” she chuckled softly.

“Tsk tsk,” the waiter shook his head and scribbled something down. “You shouldn’t have left her waiting for so long, Adrien. She’s only ordered one drink all night, you’ve soured the poor girl’s appetite.”

The both of them froze. “Uh, um, no, no i-it’s not-” she glanced frantically between them. “We’re not-” she stumbled over her words. Jackson raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like that, Jack.” Adrien laughed good-naturedly and shook his head. “There were just no other seats open,” he gestured to the packed bar.

“Oh, well, you could’ve just asked, Adrien. I’m sure we could get you a place to sit,” he turned to walk back to the front bar.

“No, no it’s fine Jack.” Adrien shot his hands up. “Really you don’t have to. I was just looking for a place to rest my feet." 

"Well, if you insist.” He nodded. “Sorry for insinuating that, mademoiselle.” He glanced at Marinette, who looked down at her sketchbook, ears red with embarrassment.

“It’s alright.” She smiled weakly. He left for the bar. She fidgeted with her pencil and tried to focus on her drawing.

“Sorry about that,” Adrien laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jack can get pretty carried away.”

“It’s alright,” she repeated. He gazed out at the rest of the bar. His eyes were really pretty. “Do you know him?” She asked and took a sip of her half-empty drink.

“Huh?” He turned back to her. “Oh, yeah. I know most of the waiters here. This place is one of my favorites.” He laughed softly. “You come here often?" 

She nearly choked. Thank God she’d swallowed her sip. Had he meant to make that sound like a pick-up line? Or had he just asked that normally without any connotations? "No, this is my first time here.” She tapped the side of her glass lightly.

“Really?” He smiled again. Man, he really was pretty. “Want some drink recommendations?” He turned in his seat so he faced her head on and leaned forward.

“Sure,” she tried to calm her pulse. Get a hold of yourself, girl! Marinette imagined Alya slapping her shoulder and pushing her forward. He’s just a hot guy. She smirked and raised a brow. A strange confidence filled her. “Hit me,”

“Well, you’ve got to try the Devilled Tears To Go with a shot of lime, that’s my favorite.” He waved his hand around as he spoke, strangely enthusiastic. “But the Avant-garde Fruit Punch is another good choice. It depends on how much kick you’d want, though.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And how much ‘kick’ is that?” Is that a normal response? Is this how people talk?

He shrugged. “Depends.” He looked up for a moment and turned back to her with a smirk on his face. “How we kicken’ today, little lady?”

She scoffed and chuckled. Her face started to heat up again. “Was that a pun?” She glanced up at him through her lashes. 

“Maybe,” he leaned back in his chair, smirk still light on his lips.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I’d say I’m kicken’ for something light.” She picked up her pencil and twirled it in her hands again.

“Then you’d probably want to go with the punch.” He nodded.

“Okay, I’ll roll with that.” she glanced over to Jackson who was coming back with a drink. Adrien’s eyes lit up, he caught her subtle pun.

“A Devilled Tears for you,” he placed the purple drink in front of Adrien lavishly. But Adrien didn’t even glance at it, he fixed his eyes on her, a wild gleam sparkling along with the fireworks. “Can I help you with anything else?" 

"I’ll get an Avant-garde Fruit Punch, please.” She rested her chin on her wrists and smiled up at Jackson. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Coming right up, mademoiselle.” He nodded and scribbled it down. As he walked back to the bar he gave Adrien a gentle pat on the back.

“That was a good one.” He chuckled. “Roll with the punches,” he whispered. He pulled his gaze away from her and sat back up in his chair.

“Thank you,” she smiled and picked up her pencil again. He’s a fan of puns? He nodded and picked up his drink.

They sat in comfortable silence once again, sneaking glances at each other as she sketched. The dress was coming along nicely. She peeked up at him and watched him watch her in stolen glances. Why was he so intrigued? Finally, she placed her pencil down and flipped the sketchbook to face him. “What do you think?”

He put his drink down and turned his full attention to the page. “Wow, it’s amazing,” his eyes traced the page for a while. “Are you a designer?” He looked up at her.

“Not independently. I work as an apprentice.” She fidgeted with a pen. “But I hope to be someday.” She took a quick glance up at him before turning to the window. He was still looking at her.

“I feel like you could definitely become a professional. I’ve seen plenty of designers, but this is really something special.” He spoke softly. She turned back to him, there was something soft in his eyes.

“Thank you.” She whispered. He nodded and smiled gently. He was so pretty. Oh, man. And his smile was so kind.

“How long have you been designing?" 

That was a difficult question. She posted and thought for a moment. "Well, I sort of drew all the time, but I started taking it more seriously when I was in sixth grade I think,” she brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Did you always want to be a designer?” He tapped his finger on the table between them.

“Yeah,” she laughed through a sigh, “I was one of those weird kids that always knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. No doubt in my mind I guess.” Marinette scratched a spot on the table. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“I, I work as a model, for my father’s company.” He massaged the back of his neck. Wait, really? Yeah, sure he was good looking but being a model… He grinned at her lopsidedly. Oh yeah, she could definitely see it.

"You’re a model?” She twisted her brows.

He looked at her and laughed. “What, you don’t think I have the dashing good looks?” He joked. Then he squinted at her, still smiling. “You seriously don’t recognize me?” His voice was softer.

“Am I supposed too?” She scoffed.

“Do you know my last name?” It was his turn to quirk his brow. Playfulness laced his voice.

“No, you haven’t told me?” She clearly wasn’t getting it.

He chuckled softly and spun the drink in his hand. “I guess it’s only fair since I know your last name.” He stuck out his hand again. She took it instinctively, still confused. “My name’s Adrien Agreste, nice to meet you." 

She blinked. "Wait,” she froze. “Adrien… Agreste?” She sputtered. “Like, son of the ruler of the fashion empire and my favorite designer, Adrien Agreste?” Her eyes were as wide as the moon.

He burst out laughing, still holding her limp hand over the table. She joined him after a moment. They laughed like a pair of idiots until Jackson came with her drink. He squinted at both of them with a small smile and placed it down without a word, before scurrying back to the bar. 

“Yeah,” he said a little out of breath. “That’s the one." 

"Wow,” she rested her head on her hand. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you.” She picked up her second drink. It was a pretty shade of orange-pink. “I’d like to think I’m bright enough to recognize a face I see on billboards every day.”

He chuckled. “Is my father really your favorite designer?” He leaned forward with his elbows braced in the table.

“Duh, I mean have you seen his winter line? Of course you have, you wore half of it,” she took a sip of the punch. “Wow, that’s good.” She put the drink down.

“I know, right,” he said off-hand.

“Like, his control of color and shape is stunning, do you remember that one blue-teal sweater? It had this little white stripe near the bottom. Anyway, oh my GOD the way it just rested on the model was amazing!” She leaned in with her eyes lighting up. “It was this perfect blend between baggy and form-fitting, I just,” she made a chef kiss and he chuckled. “And I mean off the bat the model had a great body,” she raised her brows.

“Of course,” he nodded with a soft gleam in his eye.

“But it just enhanced it in the most perfect way, and I mean,” she gazed out the window and then back to him. “It’s just a sweater, but I can’t help fangirl over it.” She giggled. Adrien smirked at her. His cheeks were a little pink. Probably from the alcohol. “What, is it weird to hear me gushing about your dad?” She put her head in her hands. “Oh god, that must’ve sounded super weird, sorry.” Her face felt hot.

“No, no, you’re fine,” he laughed. “It’s just, do you remember who wore that sweater?” He peered at her through her fingers.

She sucked in a breath. Oh god. Oh god. OH GOD. Her face must’ve been hilarious because he burst out laughing again. She scowled and slammed her hands on the table. That made him laugh harder. “Stop laughing at me!” She growled, trying to stop her own smile from forming.

He covered his mouth and doubled over. Failing miserably to stifle his laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” he breathed between giggles. She couldn’t help smiling at him. He had a cute laugh. Dammit.

“It’s just flattering,” he looked down at his drink and sighed. His cheeks were definitely pink. Hers heated up in turn. “So,” he played with a strand of his hair. “How is the drink?” He nodded to the glass in front of her.

“Oh,” she picked it up and took another sip. “It’s good, it’s good.” She nodded and closed her eyes focusing on the taste. “It’s definitely got ‘kick,’“ she pursed her lips, then smiled as he laughed.

"Wanna try mine?” He picked up his drink and handed it to her. Is he serious? Oh goodness her face felt hot.

“You sure?” She tried her hardest to smile naturally.

“Yeah, I wanna hear your opinion of the both of them.” He tapped the glass.

She picked up the drink and nearly brushed his fingertips. Chill OUT MARINETTE. She took a sip. And then coughed. “Oh, wow,” she cringed. “That’s definitely got something.” It was super strong, definitely a lot of lime as well.

He laughed, “The after taste is worth it though." 

She squinted and let the taste sit in her mouth. She hummed and wiggled her tongue around. As the lime and strength of alcohol died down a subtle taste of fruit floundered to the front. "Oh,” her eyes widened. He stared back at her, full of anticipation, a slight smile on his face. “Oh!” She smiled. “Passion fruit?” She smirked and picked up the glass and took another sip. He grinned.

“Yup, most people miss that though,” he tapped his chin.

“Must be the baker in me,” she chuckled and switched their drinks back around.

“Baker? I thought you were a designer?” He cocked his head at her.

“My parents run a bakery, I can bake but I’m not all that passionate about it.” She ran her finger over her glass.

“Multiskilled I see,” he raised his brow dramatically and took a sip of his drink. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Hmmm, well I’d probably say some kind of macaroon. The strawberry ones are good, oh but those kiwi ones my mom made were great,” she pondered.

“So, kiwi macaroons are your favorite?" 

"If I had to pick, yes.” She nodded. “What’s your favorite dessert?" 

"Guess,” he smirked.

She pursed her lips. “What would a model have as a favorite dessert?” She tapped her chin. Marinette eyed him carefully. He wasn’t giving her much. He was thin and fit, as models usually were, but he seemed to be a food enthusiast of sorts. Or a drink enthusiast. A drink enthusiast… oh! The passion fruit in his favorite drink? “Let’s see, do you have a passion for passion fruit?”

Adrien’s eyes lit up again as he chuckled. “Right on the nose, Marinette.” He tapped his nose, to emphasize his point.

“How do you like your passion fruit though? Besides in your drinks.” Guessing what kind of dessert it would be in was difficult.

“My go-to is a fruit-filled cake, with frosting on top.” He cupped his hands to show her the size. “They’re so good when they’re crunchy and warm,” he smiled and looked down at his hands.

“I’ve tried plenty of fruit-filled cakes, but never a passion fruit one.” It was more of an acquired taste. 

“You should definitely try it at some point. The ones from Danielle’s are pretty good." 

"Danielle’s, huh. I’ll ask my parents to make one." 

He furrowed his brows. "You’ve got something against Danielle’s?” He chuckled.

“Maybe,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” He leans in and cups a hand around his eat, grinning like the fool he is.

“I do!” She groans. “I know, I know, it’s not nice to hold grudges, but she totally stole our cake design for the annual Cake-fest two years ago!” She throws her hands up in the air and he laughs at her frustration.

“How so?” He asks through giggles.

“Ugh, I don’t want to get into it. I could rant for hours.” She rolled her eyes thinking about it.

“I’ve got time,” he smiled. 

She laughed. “So, the cake was supposed to be based on a specific type of tree, because the prompt that year was nature, right?” She began.

“Right,” he nodded and folded his hands under his chin, paying close attention.

[hoopdiddies]

I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 7)

A/N: This is probably the longest I've written in this series. Again guys, thank you for the support, your comments and likes mean so much! My tag list is always open so feel free to ask. And on a slightly heavy note: the next chapter could be really angsty. Just a heads up right there uwu

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you two met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when the two of you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: Angst, slight drinking, slight swearing, (yeah the fluff is still present)

W/C: 5k-ish

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

Edited// I forgot to link the previous parts

Parts: 6 5 4 3 2 1

(Got the pic from Pinterest hhh-)

Storing the luggage bag you've purchased for a fair price in the spare room, you come across a small box of sundries tucked in one corner with cobwebs clinging to the sides. Your eyes light up with curiosity spiking within you, you pick it up and dust the webs off, blowing the particles away from the top. You squat on the floor and open the flaps, discovering small yet familiar items that had been lost in time– one of them being a sepia-toned polaroid of you and Ben posing dramatically with hilarious doodles drawn on your faces. You forgot about this, feeling a little guilty that you had hidden it away in a drafty box without remembering doing anything of the sort. You flip the picture over and spot a date and an unfinished sentence written in faded ink on the bottom left part. This was taken on Homecoming night.

'I'm not going-' it says, clearly discontinued next to the date. Silly to think that the picture somehow represents a puzzle piece torn away from its board.

You were bound to graduate the week after and barely a day after, not see each other for several years due to your career paths and post-college choices.

You pull on the hem of your shirt, clearing the picture of dust and any more impurities, finally fitting it into your back pocket to finally treasure it the way it was always meant to be treasured.

The door clicks as you bring it close, your eyes gluing themselves at the hardwood floor seconds to having self-pity billow over you at how quickly your tears surface in the corner of your eyes from the memory of Ben spinning Rosy around - the exact way he did with you -and kissing her like she's a pouch full of life.

You clamp down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to stain your cheeks with your pooling tears. "Jeez, you just-" you pace back and forth in frustration, balling your fists as you gesticulate lazily, "you just don't get it, Y/N! Ugh, you're so- fuck, just get over it..." Knowing your harsh soliloquy would be getting you nowhere, you snarl strongly at yourself and roughly wipe your tears away with the back of your hand.

"He loves Rosy. F-freaking deal with it!" The reminder takes a hiss from your quivering lips for it to sink in; you have your own place in his life– a place behind the line you'd drawn in the years prior. The friend zone couldn't be any more hollow and cold than it already is.

And a polaroid pic is the only remnant left of how inseparable you and Ben were in the early days.

At the same time you're feeling your heart tear itself apart, Ben pulls out a picture - similar to what you've found - from the inner pocket of his old varsity jacket in the middle of rummaging through his wardrobe. He leaves his room in his pajamas and tosses himself on the couch next to a sleeping Frankie, softly apologizing to the little beagle for disturbing her cat-like nap. As he cuddles Frankie close, he scrutinizes the picture and it's also from Homecoming, but in it both of you are beaming widely with your arms slung around one another– the doodles ever-so-present on your faces. Behind it, the date and the continuation of the trailed-off sentence written at the back of your share of the memory.

'-anywhere at all.'- it ends in Ben's part of the duality. He grins fondly at the long lost picture, feeling twice as guilty for not keeping it safe and...close to his heart, just as he had promised you that night.

- - - - - - - -

In the convenience of Lucy needing some company to shop with for awards season just as she had returned from her get-away with Rami, she drags you along happily, having to pass through you insisting that you stay at home and study but purposefully ending up under her mercy anyway. You couldn't say no to her, she's basically your sparkly, glam counterpart and you're in need of her life-altering sparkles as of now. Especially since you're going to be tagging along with them, mainly as Joe's date cause you know, you're his 'girlfriend' and all.

You're at the mall, in a stylish boutique full of lines of voguish clothing and shoes that could span miles if not compressed together. For once in the hours you've spent scampering around the mall with Lucy to hoard dresses, skin products and make up, you admit that this is the most aesthetically pleasing space in the entire building.

You traipse along a section with black dresses fashioned into different forms, silently praying that what you have with you will amount to at least one of the varying prices.

Lucy's on the opposite side, ogling at the most colorful section in the boutique for a piece to wear. She peers over at you to make sure you've chosen your 'fighter'. A few swishes of the dresses lined up and you do, holding it up high to evaluate the appropriateness.

It's a sleeveless, halter neck satin that's just a few inches above the knee. Utterly backless but it ends right up the small of your back. The fabric is stretchy enough to move around and breathe in as it simultaneously hugs your shape. You love it but gulp as you prepare yourself for the price. Flipping the tag over, you suddenly wish you could let out the biggest, girlish squeal the human race has ever heard with how surprisingly affordable it is.

"Finally picked out yours?" Lucy pokes her head up playfully and you nod, quite speechless but giddy. She makes a grabby hand at your dress to examine it for herself.

Well she's the fashion guru so why not? You hand her the dress and as she trails her eyes from top to bottom, her mouth falls at the simple yet elegant details. "This is perfect! I highly doubt that it's not going to catch every exposed eye present at the event."

Your flush profusely at her comment. "Thanks but I'll be bringing a coat with me."

That triggered her, but of course you're only teasing. "You better effing not." She warns you and you chuckle, taking the dress from her and evenly brushing the skirt.

"I won't, you can sleep soundly tonight."

You assure her of the possibility. As you exit the boutique with a few bags you're not used to holding, Lucy takes out her phone and gasps, her face contorting with a little disbelief. "Uh oh, this might ruin your mood." She hands you the phone and you gape at her confusingly before taking a quick look.

Ben's posted some updates on his wedding preparations, shockingly tagging you, Joe, Gwil and Lucy in one photo. He's pretty busy alright; unable to text or call you for days but miraculously tagging you out of nowhere.

You come to disregard it until you notice one minute but important detail hidden in plain sight in all of his posts– there isn't a single one with him and Rosy together alone. None of such as well on his new ones.

The only post he's had with a close girl is the one with you, which is at the very bottom of his Instagram feed. You won't admit it but it warms your heart a little. Actually, a whole lot despite wondering why there's none of him and his fiancee. You hand Lucy her phone back and tilt your head to one side, suddenly finding the eagerness to go on shopping. "Let's go."

The following week comes as a radial blur contrasted to the slightly moderate one you just woke up from; your manager phoning you up to take the earliest shift you've had in years at the expense of your allotted time to rest, the heavy workload and rush hours in the upcoming hours followed by the slowest progress of filing your travel documents and visa needed for your departure on the 26th. You've got tons of missed calls from your parents and Joe, who's requested for you to pack up early since you'll be leaving for LA with Lucy on the day of the awards but earlier.

Also noting that you still need to double check the costs for flying to LA and back, ruling out the one exclusive for your flight on the 26th.

For mere days you feel as if you could lose your sanity as your life spirals into madness with everything you're required to do– whether or not you're obliged to do it.

But they are effective distractions for that problem you are still very much preoccupied with. That's a matter noteworthy of later discussion. Amidst all the chaos happening, part of you wishes for Ben to reply to your messages or even talk to you in the slightest. You never bothered to call this week since he's tied up but the least he could do is let you know how he's doing, if he's thinking of you once in a thousand passing seconds.

You give up for a day waiting on him and drown yourself in work.

- - - - - - -

Securing your phone between your tilted head and your shoulder as you indulge in your talk with Joe through the line, you crouch and zip your luggage bag close. Your eyes fixating themselves on two, separate luggage bags for two, separate travels.

"Was that all of it?" Joe's disembodied voice asks. You spring up and take your phone between your fingers. "Pretty much. I better have a kick out of something by the time we touchdown tomorrow– it's my first visit to the US." You inform him, leaping into your bed and landing comfortably.

He chortles softly and ensures you. "I know and you can be sure to expect a good par- ow! Bad kitty!" His smooth transition to a yelp amuses you for split second.

"Are you alright? "

"No. I'm finally feline food to my kid." He refers to his pet cat that has taken a small nibble on his finger, in which Joe returns with a light ruffle to its fur. You can't help but giggle heartily at him.

"Anyway, I'm picking you and Lucy up from LAX tomorrow." He gives you that heads up and you bring your hand up to your forehead. "Where will we be staying?"

"I've booked a hotel earlier so you've got nothing to worry about the moment you land." A faint crunch can be heard from your end and you mind to ask Joe about it. "Are you- are you eating?"

To answer your question, he bites down on his food sloppily and guarantees you of what you heard. You smack your lips together as your eyes narrow in bewilderment.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Sometimes you make it easier for me to hit you with a pillow."

"Is that how you treat your boyfriend?" He taunts at you and cackles, his distorted voice bouncing off of the walls of your room. You sigh, defeated by the fact that this charade is still going on. It's silly and immature yet you and Joe somehow managed to stick to the act.

"Speaking of boyfriend though– would he be furious if I told him that I couldn't be there on his wedding day?" Since you're rested and got nothing else to distract you, you pop the question to Joe.

"Ben?"

You hum softly.

"There are two scenarios that we need to consider," on his end, Joe taps his finger on his lips as he thinks of said scenarios, "Best case scenario- he would get discouraged and slightly unmotivated, and obviously sad, but he'd still support you cause that's your dream."

You sit up and twirl the ends of your hair around your finger, swallowing. "And worst case scenario?"

Joe falls silent before exhaling harshly. "You'd crush his soul, heart, everything ranging from physical to spiritual and it would take a toll– and I mean a substantial toll on your friendship."

"Joe, don't make it sound like a prospect! "

"That is, " he adds strongly, "if he finds out that you had meant for him to be oblivious to it." And he's right. But you had a reason. You still do. Even if you do end up telling him and he supports you, you need a great deal of space to move on.

As long as he's committed to Rosy and you're in the sidelines still in love with him, it's just something toxic. You couldn't love anybody they way you do Ben and you feel like you'll never love someone like him ever again. Albeit how clueless he is sometimes and clumsy, you both had survived every storm and wave. So sticking around to witness him give his hand and heart to someone else is torture for you.

"I'm gonna be direct and say-" just as you begin talking, your phone shrills to another caller, cutting you off from Joe.

One look at the screen and your heart begins racing. Speak of the devil. You reserve an explanation for cutting off and answer Ben, clearing your throat. "You're late."

Ben's gruff chuckle welcomes you back. "I know, I'm so sorry. Busiest week I've had and the lady at Starbucks signed my cup like a snail."

"What are you doing tonight that requires coffee?"

"Call me dramatic- or do so, given that I'm an actor- but I just want to stargaze right now." You hear a light rustle coming from his end, like he's seated out on his lawn.

Silently giving him the 'oh really' look, you spread one side of the curtain to let some moon light in. "Ben, you're leaving early tomorrow."

He hums, seemingly enjoying himself. "But that's not an excuse to not enjoy the night." This boy can not get any cornier. You cast your gaze upon the moon, sighing profoundly. "How did the wedding planning go? Good?"

"Hm, yeah. Church wedding, big reception. Whole lot of booze binging planned out. And a killer bachelor party the day after the awards. " He jokes through the line and you tell him off in a playful chide. "Benjamin Jones, you better-"

"I won't. I won't." You sense his gentle smile from your end, checking the time and reluctantly coming to the decision to hit the hay since you'll be leaving early as well. As much as you want to recreate those late night conversations you once had with him, you can't.

"Hey?" You coo somehow.

"Yeah?"

"I gotta sleep. I have to meet Lucy at the airport at 5."

He gives out a throaty grunt as if he's pulling himself up. "Tragic. I'll see you in LA then, love."

Your lips curl up into the gentlest smile with the moonlight blessing it from the window. "You too. Tell yourself and the rest- especially Brian and Roger- that I'm gonna be rooting for you guys to get up on that stage."

"I will. Thanks for the motivation, Y/N. All the words coming from you just mean so much to me. To all of us." And in his voice, you can hear his utmost sincerity and fondness just highlighting his tone.

"Anytime. Now let me sleep, you bloke. "

"Haha, alright. Love you tons, love."

Shifting your eyes to the sky once more, you reply, allowing the words you're about to say to mean more.

"I love you too, Ben. Good night."

- - - - - - -

24th

You had promised Lucy you'd arrive 10 minutes earlier than her and you really didn't hold on to that promise. As soon as you arrive at the airport nearly bathing in sweat and deaf from the multiple rings Lucy has given you, you both take off to the waiting area with your heavy luggage where you spend an hour and a half waiting for your flight to board. Joe has sent two texts telling you that he's still in the middle of having coffee and it's a questionable action since he's 8 hours behind you and is expected to be asleep by now.

You reply with a simple, "See you there" before heeding to the call of your flight number from the speakers.

All the rushing and you haven't had a bite of breakfast yet. An eleven hour flight doesn't sound so bad, as long as you make sure you don't reel everytime you get up to use the bathroom and acquire jet lag the moment you land from a direct flight without any pit stops. The flight is long as you are awake but by the time you fall asleep in between hours, it shortens the duration. The pilot announcing your arrival wakes you and Lucy from the latest nap you've had on the plane. After gathering your luggage and answering a couple of phone calls on you way down the plane, the arrival area is where you spy Joe behind the red tapes, a scarf around his neck and an eager look plastered on his pale skin, just waiting for you and Lucy to step in. His eyes crinkle as he sees you both treading towards him with a handful of luggage. He greets you both with a tight hug and ushers you to his car, assisting with the transport of your things.

He's booked you in the hotel he's staying in to, of course, avoid some minor inconveniences especially since the awards start at 7 pm and you drastically need Lucy to help you prepare. Upon reaching the hotel, he leads the both of you up the second floor and into the hall for your rooms.

Apparently you and Lucy will be sharing which is the great and Joe will be staying in the room right across yours.

After giving yourselves a brief tour of the room, you settle in and unpack your essentials.

"Y/N, bring out your fighter!" Lucy declares with a giggle, pulling the dress she's chosen from her suitcase. It's a purple, off-the-shoulder, crepe satin and black velvet gown that cascades gracefully against the stable air.

Your eyes widen in awe at how it looks against the light. "No need for a match, Luce. You win," you raise your hands up in surrender, "that's- that's catching more eyes. From Rami of course."

"Oh shut it. You'll look smooth in black." She clicks her tongue and smoothens it at the edge of the bed. You whip out yours and hold it up high, wavering a little at how you'll look like in it tonight. How fortunate you were to find 3-inch, black pumps closeted when you were 'panic packing' the night before. You take it out from your suitcase and set it aside before striding towards the blinds, pulling it up and beholding the breathtaking view of Hollywood before you.

Your first visit to the US and you're already headed to the Oscars. This isn't the real life. This is just fantasy.

- - - - - - - -

"We're having a dinner party afterwards, I don't see any reason for two sandwiches before the ceremony." Staring blankly at how Joe's handling waiting for you and Lucy to emerge from your room, Rami purses his lips quizzically– he's come by to pick up his girl as well. The two men look dashingly handsome in their black tuxes and slick hairstyles– their individual charm strong as they highly anticipate for your appearances.

Joe swallows the chunk in his mouth before speaking. "I'm stressed."

"About what?"

He bites down on his last sandwich, dusting his hands off crumbs as he reasons out. "It's the Oscars. Biggest ceremony of the year."

With a shake of his head, Rami opens his mouth to protest but pauses as the creak of the door behind them butts in their conversation. Lucy - exquisite in her cascading satin gown and look dotted in light to moderate make up - emerges with her purse in hand and eyes heady on Rami.

Joe wishes he could loosen some hinges in Rami's jaw since the latter has got his mouth agape at her girlfriend's evening look. To him, she is his ultimate award and he wouldn't have it in any other way.

"Hey, babe." Lucy smiles delicately and kisses Rami's cheek, to which he responds with a breathless, "Luce, you look..." His starstruck silence finishing his compliment for her. Joe hums, agreeing with crossed arms. "I wish I was as pretty as you, Boynton."

"You boys look handsome, too." Lucy giggles softly and Joe begins to wonder. "Where's Y/N?"

"She'll be out in three...two..." As Lucy deliberately pauses her countdown, you come out of the room, head down as you feel a bit hesitant to continue but you regain your confidence and look up timidly– your appearance putting Joe in the same position Rami was just in with Lucy. The dress really agrees to your form, contouring every curve of your body in a semi-sensual way, guaranteeing that you'll be snagging some looks tonight. Your (H/C) hair frames your face intricately with your light make-up emphasizing the color of your eyes and lips. The light brush of air against the skin of your exposed back makes you clutch your purse tighter, deeming it uncomfortable.

Lucy smiles proudly at her work and that is you. "Well, how does she look Joe?"

Joe lets out a hitched exhale, hazel eyes wide as a sinkhole and a slacked jaw struggling to budge. "Like my girlfriend."

"You wish." You can't help but retort playfully and he brings his finger up to his lips, hushing you. Rami compliments you as well and you thank him as the four of you make your way to the elevator– your arm on Joe's and Lucy's on Rami's.

You've taken a limo for the sake of convenience, since Joe and Rami wanted to propose a pre-toast - with the champagne present in the vehicle - to their successes and hard work in the past year. You have faith they'd bring home an Oscar; considering how spectacular their work was portraying the members of Queen. You're also thrilled that you're about to meet Brian and Roger.

The limo parks just across Dolby Theatre and the four of you climb out, making your way arms-in-arms into the place crowded with paparazzi and attendees. You see yourself as a small fish swimming in a sea full of majestic dolphins. This is the big leagues right here and you're not even one bit of a celebrity– at least you feel like you aren't one. After a couple of shoulder brushes with either familiar and unfamiliar faces and escaping the blinding flashes of the cameras, the four of you reunite with Gwilym who has Roger and Brian present by his side. You are introduced to the two Queen members by Joe and you couldn't be any more happier to meet them in person. A couple of moments of interacting with the rest of the crew and cast, Ben joins the 'party' looking sharp and admittedly drop-dead gorgeous in his white tuxedo blazer and slicked back hair with Rosy by his side.

Before he could even reply to the greetings of his friends, he lays his eyes on you and for a while– his pupils dilate and his expression flits faster than he can command it to. He can't believe what or who he is seeing before him amidst all the glam. Letting go of Rosy's hand for a minute, he steps close to you, indescribably captivated. "Y/N...h-hey."

You keep your composure, musing back. "Hey. You look left out, outfit-wise, and a like a million bucks."

It takes him nearly five seconds to reply with the way hes has his eyes transfixed on you. It's like he's seeing you for the first time. Your evening look setting him back to Homecoming night and something inside him just tweaks. You avoid his mindless gaze and break the silence, trying your hardest not to flush. "Ben, please talk. It's just really-"

"You look...beautiful." He breathes out like he had just gotten up from under water.

[elvendara]

Saeran Choi Week Day 1 2019

29 July

Day 1: Sweets/Flowers  for @saeranchoiweek 

“You nasty little shit! Get away from that window! How many times have I told you to stay out of sight? Why are you so stupid?” his mother screamed. She always screamed. He often wondered what her voice would sound like without that scream. Maybe she didn’t know how to talk nice. He covered his ears and curled in on himself, falling to the dirty floor and closing his eyes. The smell of stale piss and alcohol reached his nose and he knew the blow would hit soon as the smell got stronger.

She used her hands, the sound of the blows echoing off the walls in the nearly empty room. He felt the blood trickle down his nose and mix with his tears. He stayed silent, crying out and pleading for her to stop only angered her more.

“Why was I cursed with such idiotic children!” she grabbed at his thick red hair and pulled him away from under the window. He choked out a gurgle and tried to monkey crawl so she wouldn’t yank out a chunk of his hair. She’d done it before, and it had taken months for him to even begin to grow it back. He cried out, he couldn’t help it, which made her stop and give him a kick, striking his ribs. He sniffled quietly; thankful she was barefoot. He was glad Saeyoung was out, his brother would try and intervene, which would end up with him bruised and bloodied as well.

Yanking him behind her, the dust on the floor flying into the air as they brutally passed, she dragged him to the closet. His eyes widened in terror and he began to resist.

She turned and let go of his hair, before he could backpedal, she grabbed his shirt and easily pulled his small and sickly body up tossing him into the tiny rectangular room closing the door with a ring of finality.

“NO! Please! Mother! I won’t do it again!” he pounded on the door in desperation, the darkness already cloaking him in fear and regret. It clung to him, dragging him into an abyss of unimaginable dread. Of course she wasn’t going to open the door, this was his punishment for disobeying her. He fell to the floor and wept, pulling his legs to his chest and burying his forehead into his knees. With his finger he doodled on the floor. “One loop. Two loops. Three loops. Four loops. Five loops. Six loops. Circle, stem, leaf. One loop. Two loops. Three loops. Four loops. Five loops. Six loops. Circle, stem, leaf.” He created a flower over and over as he rocked back and forth. All he had to do was wait for Saeyoung and keep his eyes closed.

**

He listened to the retreating steps and as soon as he heard the door slam he went to the window.

“One. Two. Three…” he counted to a hundred before he pulled the stained sheet pinned to the wall away from the window. The gloomy room bloomed with sunlight and Saeran stared at the sky. It was bright and blue, the fluffy clouds lazily moving through the sky. He smiled sadly, wishing he could open the window, but even now he dared not. There was so much life outside of his small world, but he was so removed from it, it might as well only exist in his head. He enjoyed watching the people that walked by and making up stories about them in his head. Saeyoung would give him bits and pieces of the truth when he could find it out.

He watched as a woman, shorter than his own mother, walked by slowly, holding a boy’s hand. He stared at that sight, wondering what it would be like if his mother held his hand like that. The boy looked about his own age, his smile radiant and wide. He held a balloon, as vividly purple as his eyes. They were so large it was easy for Saeran to see the color. It took him too long to realize the boy was staring right at him. He felt stuck, immobile, he should be ducking down, his mother would be angry. But he couldn’t and the boy’s smiled widened as he waved to him. Saeran blinked in confusion then waved back.

The boy seemed to really take an interest in him, so much so that he made his mother stop walking and pointed. Saeran ducked out of the way, frightened by the attention. He was so afraid his mother would find out someone had seen him. He backed away from the window and wedged himself into a corner of the room pulling his legs into his chest and once again running his finger along the floor as if he was drawing a flower to calm himself.

**

He stayed away from the window for days, terrified, and barely spoke or made noise. Saeyoung was worried but he just shrugged when he asked what was wrong and said he was tired. But the sun was so bright outside it even seemed to shine through the tattered sheet. It was so tempting, and their mother was downstairs so it wouldn’t hurt to peek. Saeyoung was studying his book which meant that his attention was entirely focused on it, he wouldn’t notice.

He scooted to the window and pulled away the sheet just enough to glance outside, he gasped, but even that didn’t get his twin brother’s attention. On the sill of the window there was a bunch of flowers. The petals were white, and the center was yellow. Daisies. Saeyoung had shown him a picture once, they were the flowers he used to calm himself. How had they gotten there? He stared outside from left to right but didn’t see anyone near. They appeared to have been there at least a day, they were beginning to wilt. The sight saddened him.

“What are you doing?” Saeran jumped, sweat breaking out all over his body but at least he didn’t smell the unmistakable odor of his mother.

“You scared me.” Saeran huffed.

“Sorry. But you know mother will punish you if she sees you doing that.”

“I know, but the sun was so bright.”

“Maybe I’ll be able to take you out again soon, but we have to be very careful.” Saeyoung was firm but his smile softened his harsh words.

“Ok, but look, someone left flowers.” Saeran smiled, his amber eyes lighting up with something that had never been there.

“Flowers?” Saeyoung glanced over his shoulder towards the open door to make sure his mother was not near. She did not allow them to close it. Making sure it was clear, he pulled the sheet away and was also surprised by the daisies.

“Who do you think left them there? Do you think it was fairies?” Saeran asked with a low chuckle.

“Of course not.” Saeyoung wasn’t as excited about the flowers as his brother, he was worried. “We should get them, if mother sees them it won’t be good.

“Ok.” Saeran agreed eagerly.

“Go watch the hall, tell me if mother is coming ok?”

“Ok.” Saeran scuttled towards the door, his eyes and ears open for any movement or sound from down the hall. He heard Saeyoung open the window and then quickly close it.

“I’m going to see if I can throw them away without mother seeing.”

“What? No! Please, they’re so pretty, can’t we keep them?” Saeran begged.

“Why? If mother sees them…” but Saeyoung couldn’t finish, the downcast look on his brother’s face tore at his heart. The brilliant smile from mere seconds ago was replaced with a dejection that was a constant companion of them both. Instead of throwing them away, he gave them to his brother and found a glass, filling it with water, for him to put them in. They placed it in the corner of the room behind a pile of blankets.

Saeran slept with them next to him and over the next few weeks, they found more flowers at their window. Saeran wondered out loud once how the person leaving them knew they were his favorite. Saeyoung laughed and pointed out the flower patterns all over the window that Saeran had drawn through the grit.

Somehow, every night from that first one with the flowers, Saeran dreamed about the purple eyed brunette boy with the balloon.