#updated a few of the descriptions (i HATE writing those though so. only some of them) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

apompkwrites · 4 years ago

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reader impact || first meeting

series masterlist characters: xiao, albedo genre: fluff summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you. notes: have i read a few genshin impact x game character reader stories and impulsively decided to make one too? maybe. you can't prove anything. i don't know if this will be a series but we'll see :D

xiao's playthrough -

xiao, named as alatus on his streaming platform, has made himself known as a gaming streamer with an awkward personality and blunt words.

he's the type of streamer who wouldn't have a set type of game and would, instead, play whatever his viewers recommended.

valorant? sure, he'll try it out.

hitman? why not?

animal crossing? it's a complete 180 from the other games, but sure.

when one of his viewers recommended genshin impact, he was quick to say yes and search for the game.

once the game finishes downloading, he quickly begins the game.

once the opening cutscene passes, he compliments the overall aesthetic of the game, pointing out the smaller details such as the footprints made by his character and the sound their clothes make when they move.

as always, his expressions are quite monotone to a point where it seems nothing draws his attention towards the game.

one of his mods, however, knows xiao well enough to where he knows which character he would like.

they convince xiao that the game is worth sticking with towards the second half of chapter 1, act 1.

he doesn't understand but he trusts his mods so he promises to continue.

it takes a few hours, especially because of the grinding, but a few streams later he's finally made it.

after fighting a one-sided argument with cloud retainer, he immediately begins his trek to the wangshu inn. and yes, trek, he enjoys walking/gliding through the world of teyvat rather than fast traveling everywhere.

he walks up the stairs to the top floor of the inn, resting his hands in his lap as the cutscene begins.

"to the blind, everything may not be as it appears..."

xiao is normally stoic during games, even ones with scenes made to fluster the player and catch them off guard.

but not this time.

once xiao's character is faced with yours, he just stops. his chat is spamming messages, asking if he's okay and if he's actually emoting for once.

he just stares at your character for a good five minutes.

and trust me, at least half of his viewers clipped that.

"... who are they?"

that was his only question after those minutes of silence. never before had he been attached to a character within the first few minutes of meeting them. his mind is racing and all he can think about is how amazing your character design is and how nice your voice is and how cool your character is and--

oh right, he's streaming right now...

anyway, the more your conversation goes on, the more he loves your character.

you're just so sassy and snappy but he loves you either way.

once you turn away with your back towards the camera, he just stares.

he stares at the intricate tattoo on your exposed arm and the mask hanging off of your belt.

and then you're gone.

his face drops so quickly and his viewers are very quick to point it out. he grimaces once paimon starts talking and he's very tempted to just speed through her dialogue.

he just wants to see you again.

once he hears from verr goldet that you've never smiled (at least around her), he immediately turns to the camera and says, "we better make them smile in this game."

once he finds out about your favorite food, he's already asking his viewers if he's able to get the recipe for it.

the next time he gets to talk to you, his face just lights up once he sees your character standing on the balcony.

however, once his characters tell you about rex lapis's death, his heart sinks when he hears how sad your voice becomes, even if your tone is still as harsh as before.

he gets all sad again when the quest ends and he has to wait to unlock the next archon quest.

he ends the game there and decides to spend the last few minutes talking to his viewers.

"i'll stream genshin again soon."

his viewers all know it's only because he met you.

albedo's playthrough -

albedo often does art streams and the occasional science-y stream.

if he does games, he mainly uses them to admire the art/mechanics of the gameplay.

genshin impact was one of those games he decided to play on his own solely because of the beautiful scenary.

(and the opportunity to draw more characters).

he's definitely the player that cares about elemental reactions above all else. pretty much every character he uses is built for elemental damage instead of physical.

most of his genshin streams are him walking around teyvat and pointing out the scenary.

he was definitely excited for the dragonspine event because that meant a better view of teyvat!

what he wasn't prepared for, however, was the reveal of a new character: you.

he isn't too into looking at the updates for genshin on his own, so he didn't find out about who you were until his stream asked about it.

he decided to react to the newest updates live since his chat seemed excited to hear his input.

once he pulled up the latest update details, he spent a few minutes talking about the new subzero mechanic.

but once he scrolled down to the characters... OH BOY

he's able to keep his composure but he definitely spends longer talking about you.

he almost gasped when he saw you were the chief alchemist of mondstadt.

combine that with the fact that you rely on elemental damage instead of physical...

your honor, he's fallen hard.

he'll put a countdown on stream to when your character and event drops, even on his non-genshin streams.

speaking of those streams, on the week just before your event, his streams will all be based around you and the information he's seen on you.

his art streams will consist of you and how he thinks your attacks will work just based on the description (he purposely avoided all pictures of your attacks for this stream).

his science-y streams would probably be based on your element.

once your event drops, that's the only thing he'll stream until it's over.

your assistant used to be his favorite character to play as but they just never clicked. it's not like he hates your assistant, it's just he didn't immediately fall in love with them.

his party definitely has your assistant in it, though.

he would have normally taken his time to look around dragonspine and admire the new scenery, but he couldn't help but speed through it until he finally gets to see you onscreen.

once the cutscene officially introduces you in front of a canvas, he's internally panicking.

you like art too?! and science?! how perfect can you be?!?!?!

he will genuinely feel bad when he scares the hilichurls because he knows that that's what you were sketching.

"who are you? why did you alarm them?"

NOW HE FEELS EVEN WORSE

even when you tell him you've finished sketching, he wants to make it up to you :((

if he were able to, he would've lured more hilichurls to let you sketch more.

some people in his chat would probably spam him to skip your dialogue because it's so wordy, but that's the exact reason why he listens to it all.

he likes listening to your character ramble on, especially because you have a soothing voice.

anytime your character does their idle animation where you give life to something, he will always let it play. even if your dialogue is finished before the animation, he would not progress until it's completed.

once your character asks for help, he would immediately agree before you finished your sentence.

man just wants to spend more time with you.

he likes staring at the tattoo on your neck whenever the camera is close to you. he just thinks it's really pretty on you.

once your other nonplayable assistant begins talking, he'll skip through the dialogue. he doesn't care if it goes more in depth into this world's alchemy, he just wants to hear it from you.

"hmm, looks like the potion's ready. i'll try a little first."

"please don't..."

he doesn't want you to try it just in case it hurts you :(

anytime he is allowed to walk freely with you around, he'd definitely put his traveler character next to you for a few minutes and just let you two stare at each other.

someone asks him why he spends a few minutes doodling on his desk when you talk.

he shows them the notebook that he had been writing notes in. it's filled with little doodles of you and some more information you give on the world of alchemy.

for future streams the involve you, he'd set up another camera to show the notes and doodles he's making about you.

sometimes he'll spend a few minutes on a single section where the camera is focused on you just to recreate the picture in the notebook.

he absolutely loves whoever planned out the camera angles because of how cute you look in every one of them.

he definitely gets a bad vibe from rosaria when she hints at the fact that you may be using alchemy against him.

he will defend you and alchemy to his grave!

that one scene where you create a flower in front of you is one he will always treasure.

he makes sure someone clipped that moment just so he can draw that, make it a print, and put it on his wall.

since most of his viewers most likely consist of artists, he will encourage them to draw you and send him fanart. he will put them all on a wall and dedicate every picture that goes there to you.

"if i one day lose control... destroy mondstadt... as well as everything around it..."

"huh?"

"will you be there to stop me?"

"wait... no."

if people were only listening to that portion, they would still be able to hear the pout on his face.

he'll end the game there but change his stream into an impromptu art stream.

he will only be drawing you in nice situations to distract himself from the fact that there is something going on with you.

"hm? what do you mean something's wrong with (name)? i have no idea what you're talking about."

poor boy's in denial...

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

if i forgot you please lmk!

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mysterious-crimson-lotus · 3 years ago

Note

What's up? Hope you're doing well today! I miss your updates (though I totally understand that you're busy and all...). Do you have any NH one-shot recommendations that are must-reads? To pass the time until your next awesome update. :) Anyway, take care!

Hellooooooo!

Thank you so much, and so sorry for vanishing and taking so long to respond. I took quite a long (and unwanted) break from games, movies, fanfiction and pretty much a ton of things that generally give me joy. Me had final exams! No idea how they went, good chance I blew 'em, but I studied my hardest and tried my best, so I'm pretty pleased anyways. I miss writing, though; it's one of my principle methods of reducing stress, and in my hour of need, I didn't even have the time or energy to do that. But I am up and ready to get back into it all! (I did have a relatively brief period of complete burn out immediately after The Great Trials were completed during which I did nothing aside from binging The Dragon Prince -- amazing show, definitely recommend it to those who haven't seen it.)

As for recommendations, in terms of one shots, the following are some of my favourites. I'll try to keep them a bit varied. There may have been a few excellent items that have been written in my absence that I will have to catch up on, so, if you can, you could potentially recommend me some as well. That would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 9 from Between the Trees by utsu. I've recommended this before; it's technically a chapter from a larger fanfiction, but it's an anthology series anyways. I absolutely love this short piece. Very fluffy, very simple. Halloween with the Uzumakis.

The Life and Chronicles of Neji Uzumaki by tenneyshoes. Technically it's a sequel (to one of my favourites, I might add) but I believe it can work on its own. Warning, it's sad. It details the birth -- or rather, post-birth -- of Naruto and Hinata's child. (linked to this is another related one-shot that technically isn't part of this fanfiction's canon, Easier for Me).

My Right Hand by petran. I'm a sucker for Blank Period canon-compliant stories, and this is one of them. Quite sweet, and details a bit of how Hinata helped Naruto before he had his prosthetic.

i wanna slow dance with you by TheGodWith5Yen. I have a document entitled "Fanfic Archive" where I have a list of all the stories that I have read and deemed worth keeping a record of. Aside from being catalogued based on how much I liked them and on main tags (fluff, humour, etc) they also have brief descriptions next to the links. For this one, I simply wrote "I love how fluffy this is; secret marriage." So yes, fluffy + secret marriage.

The Hokage's Secret Closet by eternalshiva. In my archive I have the description "I hate this so much, it's so good," and nothing more. It's quite beautiful as it details the history of Konoha and covers Naruto's time as Hokage. Not to an exceptional amount of detail, but I quite enjoyed it. Aside from the angst, of course.

Against Policy by tigerowl. First of all, a tigerowl would be absolutely terrifying. Second of all, this one is very funny, and while it doesn't have much direct NH in it, I believe it is worth reading simply if you like Hinata, or Shikamaru, I suppose. In it, there are some.... changes to the Office of the Hokage.

may you find some comfort here by muchosyouth. This one is very short and simple, only 380 words; nevertheless, as the saying goes: short and sweet. Quite a lovely piece, if I do say so myself.

Little Samurai by NarutoDays. This one is a very well done adaptation of a Japanese folk tale. It's very engaging, and the writing is constructed in such a captivating manner. It has tiny Naruto in it, who wants to make it big in the world.

So, that's about it for now. Hopefully I will be able to stock up my archive with a few more stories, and actually get to writing some of my own! Have a good day!

Sincerely,

#naruhina #naruhina fanfic #naruhina fanfic rec

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penguintransporter · 3 years ago

Text

Tiny Clouds (Serge Gnabry oneshot)

You need to ban me from here 😂 I don’t know if it’s the fact that I am on my holidays, or if it’s my mum’s homecooked food, but I have been writing and updating more than ever before. Anyway, you should all thank @disneydaddyevans for giving me the idea to write this little piece that is so cheesy, but I couldn’t help myself. Inspired by his fashion sense and the overall cuteness that the man oozes. Read, heart, reblog, and tell me what you think about it. Also, I wasn’t sure if I should use to name for my OC or just “Y/N”, so I stuck with the way I usually write.

“Max… Max—Maximillian,” Dolores hissed quietly, stopping dead in her tracks, barely fifty meters away from where they were heading. “That,” she pointed her index finger at the outside of the Museum of Urban and Contemporary Art with a horror-stricken face, “it doesn’t look like a regular exhibition opening. Look at all the press. Are you sure they will let me come in wearing this?”

“There is nothing wrong with your outfit, Lola,” her friend replied, using her nickname – a deep chuckle escaping his throat. She couldn’t help but glance down at her attire, narrowing her eyes at the worn-out jeans and a woolly pullover she had knitted for herself, some two years ago. It was already losing its shape and growing lint on several spots.

When Maximilian asked if she would like to join him for an exhibition opening, Lola agreed without thinking twice, not expecting to be thrown into the middle of what seemed to be a huge media fuss. If she was being frank, she could have googled what the exhibition was about or what the artist’s name was, but with her long shifts at work and three papers due for her night courses at the university, Lola completely forgot to do so.

“If you say so,” she mumbled back, glancing once again at her outfit – eyes narrowing at the stubborn stain on her Converse high-tops. For a moment she contemplated licking her thumb and trying to rub the dark spot away, but she decided against it once she realised that it was highly unhygienic and probably a very weird thing to do in front of all the people that mingled around her.

It wasn’t like she hated or didn’t like fashion – on contrary, she thought it was fun, but Lola found comfort in being practical rather than being stylish, and the older she got, the more overwhelmed she felt with the fast pace of fashion and trends in general. There were too many terms, too many weird combinations being pushed in the foreground, so she decided that it would be the best for her if she stood on the sidelines of it all like a spectator rather than participant.

“I am being honest,” Max added as she caught up with him and they slowly made their way towards the entrance – camera flashes that tried to capture very important people hurting Lola’s eyes. “Moreover, I think that jumper is incredibly cute with its tiny clouds. Or are those sheep?” Max asked, grinning down at her as he adjusted the collar on his trench-coat.

“Tiny clouds,” Lola remarked, “better than your Inspector Gadget coat though, if you ask me,” she joked back, making her friend laugh out loud before he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the crowd.

The main exhibition room wasn’t as packed as Lola had expected it to be, and once they were ushered inside by an artist friend of Max, they made their way around it - slow-paced and without any rush or pressure. They stopped ever so often to read the description, comment or even chuckle on some of the art pieces that they didn’t find very interesting.

Lola had visited the museum only a handful of times before this, but whenever she was here she enjoyed the look and feel of it. From the minimalistic approach to the main rooms and furniture, to the small and narrow hallways that led to different rooms with unique art exhibitions and graffiti on the wall.

“Maximilian!” a deep, mature voice called out from across the large room, and Lola reflexively turned her head in the direction of it before seeing a tall and a lanky man in a pressed suit trousers and white button down striding towards them. She could vaguely recognise his face as one of Max’s artist friends, but she couldn’t remember his name. “Maximilian,” he repeated as he stepped closer, blocking Lola’s view of the art installation in front of them, forcing her to look away from it, “there is someone I want you to meet,” he breathed out as both, Max and Lola curiously peered at him. “He doesn’t have a lot of time, but he plays for your favourite team, so I thought you’d be happy to meet him.”

“Maximilian, this is Serge. Serge, this is Maximilian, and…,” the artist friend trailed off, looking down at Lola with an awkward smile, “sorry dear, but I don’t remember your name.”

Lola smiled back nervously, shifting on her feet a little. “Dolores,” she answered, looking first at the man in front of her before glancing at the good-looking athlete only to find him looking back at her curiously, “or Lola for short. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet both of you,” Serge replied politely, sticking both of his hands in the pockets of his wide trousers, and Lola couldn’t help but glance at his well-put outfit that looked very expensive and taken care of. “Are you an artist too?” Serge asked looking in Maximillian’s direction.

“No, no,” Max replied, mimicking Serge’s posture, “just enthusiast. By the way, great season with the team...”

Next to them, Lola was wringing the exhibition brochure she picked up on the entrance in her sweaty palms - bits of the paper sticking to her skin. She wasn’t shy or easily intimidated by other people, but there was something about being in the crowd that made one stick out like a sore thumb with her outfit. It was turning her into a nervous wreck even if she didn’t want that.

Having Serge Gnabry in front of her didn’t help either.

“And what about you, Lola?”

Lola felt her heartbeat quicken at the sound of Serge’s voice saying her name, and when she looked up at him, slightly confused, he had a gentle smile on his face, patiently waiting for her answer. His brown eyes were focused on her face and her eyes, and she suddenly felt at loss of words.

“Lola is not an artist either, but an avid knitter instead,” Max interjected with a grin, and Lola looked away from Serge’s eyes and up at her friend – her eyes narrowing a little. “She’s once knitted an entire winter scarf on her way to Hamburg,” he added as Lola felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she managed to push it away casually.

“It was a nice scarf, though,” Lola sheepishly smiled, feeling the insides of her stomach flip excitedly when Serge chuckled before the silence fell upon the three of them. To keep her thoughts straight, she looked down at her smudged Converse, knowing that Serge probably waited for her to elaborate or keep the conversation going. The only problem was that her mind was blank, her palms sweaty, and all the words she wanted to say seemed to be stuck inside her throat. “I real—really enjoy knitti—,”

“—Serge!” a middle-aged woman wearing a shapeless dress and thick, white-rimmed glasses approached them in a hurry, interrupting Lola in the middle of her sentence. “We have Thibaut from Revver magazine outside. It would be lovely if you could just answer few questions for him.” The woman sent an apologetic smile towards Lola, and Lola only smiled back weakly, not really knowing what else to do.

She looked away to mask her disappointed for ruining her chance of talking to Serge, not noticing the lingering gaze he gave her before he walked away.

An hour into the evening, Lola found herself walking along one of the walls covered in graffiti on her own after Max excused himself to go outside for a “much needed smoke”. Rather than just standing alone and waiting for her friend to come back, Lola continued to walk along the painted walls before seeing another room that was adjacent to the main room, and which seemed to be empty.

Smiling at the several people who quietly talked among themselves outside, Lola pushed her way inside, quickly being mesmerized by the colours and style of the art that occupied the tiny space she was in. It was a collection of the tall yet narrow murals – each one describing a different story that captivated Lola’s curiosity, and she found herself forgetting about the time.

“You don’t like to talk much, do you?”

Lola looked in the direction of the voice before shyly smiling once she realised it was Serge who stood behind her. Quickly, she looked away, feeling her cheeks redden at his words. He moved closer, stepping mere few meters away from her before interlacing his fingers behind his back as he observed the same mural as she did – his lips curled into small smile.

Lola breathed out a short breath before opening her mouth to speak. “It’s actually difficult to shut me up once I get started, but I easily get intimidated around people who…,” she trailed off, unsure in how to phrase her ridiculous insecurities, “nevermind,” she finished, glancing towards Serge for a brief second.

“Are you intimidated by flesh and blood, Lola?” he asked before stopping for a second, “That’s your name, right?”

She nodded, stepping closer to the wall, reaching out to touch it, as if that would help her figure out what kind of materials did they use for it.

“Flesh and blood in trendy, expensive clothes. I will be honest with you,” Lola shook her head a little, pointing at the large museum room where the actual exhibition was presented, “I felt so out of place over there, so I came here.”

“Well, maybe they are expensive,” Serge commented with an amused smirk, “but how many of us are actually wearing a knitted pullover we made ourselves. That’s the real style, if you ask me.”

Lola felt the warmth evade her face yet again as she moved away from the wall, straightening her back and looking at him. “How do you know I knitted it?”

“Pure guess,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “Did I guess right?”

“Yeah,” Lola admitted, “And these are tiny clouds, by the way, not sheep,” she quickly added making Serge chuckle a little. “It’s the confidence and courage,” she muttered, and Serge muttered a small ‘mhmm’, urging her to continue. “I wish I had the courage to experiment a bit more. For example, I like what you are wearing. It’s very,” Lola stopped for a moment, thinking of the word to use for his immaculate outfit, “…fashionable.”

Serge laughed a little at her words, and she curiously peered up at him, waiting for him to speak.

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with what you are wearing,” he responded, looking down at her, “but here…” he trailed off as he turned around to face her before untying the neckerchief he was wearing around his neck and holding it out for her. “May I?” he asked, taking a step closer, and Lola felt her heart start beating faster because of his proximity but she nodded slowly. Serge nodded as well before putting the scarf around her neck, tying it in a loose knot. “There you go,” he mumbled.

Lola smiled, looking down at his hands as he adjusted the ends of the scarf, folding them so that they sat nicely against the curve of her neck.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, touching the neckerchief with her fingers – the silky material soft against her skin.

“Now you’re wearing something fashionable,” Serge commented, emphasizing the word ‘fashionable’ with air-quotes.

“Fashionable, I guess,” Lola smirked, “but you should take it back. It feels so wrong to wear it,” she added with a small and nervous laugh.

“Wear it tonight, and you can give it back to me some other time,” Serge replied, sticking his hands in the pockets of his loose trousers, turning around so that he was facing the wall again. “That’s if you want to meet up, of course.”

Lola was quiet for a moment, trying to stop the butterflies in her stomach from going crazy, but she couldn’t stop the smile that made its way on her face.

“I do,” she answered, moving so that she was standing next to him – her eyes trying to focus on the tiny details on the mural. “I do want to meet up.”

They stood next to each other in silence for a few seconds – neither of them looking away from the wall. “Friday maybe? Sunday afternoon works too. We don’t have to dress up.”

“Friday works for me,” Lola answered, “but if we wait on Sunday you might get a pair of knitted mittens as a thank you gift for making me look,” she stopped to raise her hands in air-quotes, “fashionable.”

“Only if they come with tiny clouds,” he stated, looking at her at the same time as she looked up at him.

“If you want,”

Serge nodded – his eyes never leaving hers. “Then it’s Sunday afternoon.”

“It is,” Lola nodded.

“Perfect.”

Thank you for reading, and this really needs some editing. I apologise.

#serge gnabry #bayern munich #football fanfic #football fanfiction #football imagine #serge gnabry imagine #serge gnabry fanfiction #football oneshot #bayern munich fanfiction #german nt

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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Those who weave (New Series Snippet)

So, I’m starting a new series! I’m not dropping Nostalgia of course, and that series is still my priority so this one won’t have scheduled updates, but I’m having a really tough time writing (in general, and for Nostalgia in specific) so I decided to start posting this one.

It is a Reincarnation fic, basically, with some curse elements. Of course, an AU, takes place mainly in the Viking era, late Middle Ages, and modern times.

It is an Ivar/Reader fic, but it does have a lot of Freydis in it, because...it’s me, of course it has Freydis on it. I am trying a new side of her on this one tho!

A few things about this story:

It is a Reader-insert, and though I do have a faceclaim for her (Turkish actress Özge Törer) it is for graphic thingies, no descriptions in the story. However, it isn’t very inclusive, since in some of their lives her and Freydis are half sisters. I’m sorry for that.

It will be divided into three acts/lives: Sight, Love, and Time.

It is a fucking mess. I have to leave behind very important themes of the canon story, like the aspect of Valhalla, and Ivar’s ambitions of fame, and many other things, because they simply don’t fit as conflicts or themes with a multiple-lives dynamic. But I have fun writing this, and I hope you will have fun reading it.

So yeah, I really don’t know how to make these announcement thingies, but I wanted to make one for this cause a) I worked really hard on that graphic thingy and I want you to see it cause I’m stupidly proud of myself, and b) I wanna check who wants to be tagged for this.

I’m tagging those on my ‘All’ taglist, please lemme know if you wanna be added or removed! Love ya!

Snippet of...something under the cut. It technically happens during the Love Act, but it is a scene that doesn’t happen in the main story, an alternate POV of sorts.

So, quick ground rules: Ivar remembers their past lives (not all of it, but he remembers the Reader and Freydis, and sometimes other people), Freydis and the Reader don’t remember anything most of the time (but Freydis has premonitions regarding her and her sister’s futures).

I hope you like it 😉

Katia sits before you on the bed, her back to you and her eyes closed as you methodically brush her hair. Just like you used to when you were children.

Your mother taught you differently than Katia’s mother did, and she remembers how endlessly fascinated you were while growing up at how she chose to wear her hair with rarely any coverings, just as she was so delighted in finding linens and jewels to make and adorn your shawls and veils.

Your fingers replace the brush, and she feels you carefully toying with the strands of her hair.

You sigh, a little wistfully, a little lost.

“I liked it better when your hair was blonde,” You tell her, chuckling after your words like you haven’t just stopped her heart with but a sentence, “I miss braiding it.”

Katia tells herself this is nothing out of the ordinary. Since you were children she has heard you talk of a world neither of you ever knew, little lost promises of a life that was nothing but a dream.

She remembers how you’d wake her up saying your chest hurt and that you didn’t want to leave her alone, how you’d sit at her side in the mornings and ask if you’d ever be back home even as you had breakfast in the only home you had known; and she remembers how just as easily you’d lay by her side and sleep again with no memory of your pain come morning, how you’d smile wistfully and forget your nostalgia with a bite of a biscuit and the start of your day.

All her life, she has written it off as nothing other than illusions, nothing other than the soft heart of her sister lingering in a world of dreams.

Now, she isn’t so sure they are dreams. Now, she isn’t so sure she doesn’t know Ivar, now she isn’t so sure he is crazy.

The man towers over her, but strangely enough, Katia doesn’t feel fear.

All she feels is anger. All she feels is rage and hate.

And a part of her feels strangely vindicated at the lost look in his eyes, like someone she never was -or someone she never stopped being- is cruelly delighted at his pain.

“You are Freydis,” He tells her, and she keeps careful eyes on him but says nothing, “You’re playing games with me, y-you’ve cursed me.”

“Cursed you?” She asks, the beginning of a smile on her lips. To anyone else, she might look like a woman that has lost her mind, but, to him, she dares think, she looks like a woman powerful, a woman he’d wage war against. “I would think I’d have a reason to curse you. Tell me…did I?”

There’s something there, something human in all the rage of a monster, something like pain, like grief. But the man doesn’t allow it to linger for long, and the pain morphs into wrath before her eyes.

“You took everything from me.” He snarls, rough hand grabbing Katia’s arm and forcing her closer. His eyes are piercing and wrathful as they look into hers.

“What is going on here?” You call out from behind her. And the man’s eyes leave her to focus on you as you approach. His hand drops from her arm, and Katia holds her breath.

Pale blue eyes shine as your soft footsteps approach, and as the man’s expression trembles with something like pain, something like hope, something like love; Katia finds herself afraid to turn around and find a woman she doesn’t recognize in her sister’s place.

She notices the change in him at the sight of you, and for the first time she feels fear.

And she waits now, with baited breath, for you to shake off the veil of dreams, the chimera of something that never was, that never would be.

But you don’t. You continue trailing soft and delicate fingers through her long hair, as if you aren’t making dread and fear poison her from the inside with each passing breath of silence.

“Blonde?” She asks, and her voice trembles, but she doesn’t care.

“Mhm,” You mumble, not really paying attention. After a moment, you take a breath and start again, “Ivar’s eyes were very blue today, di-…”

“His name isn’t Ivar. You should know that by now.”

“That’s what he said his name is.” You insist, but there’s a strange stillness to the way you hold yourself now, when she turns to meet your gaze.

“And he says my name is different too, do you believe him?”

“You aren’t Freydis,” You chuckle, saying the name that haunts Katia’s dreams with terrifying ease. And it feels familiar, coming from your lips. As familiar as the curve of your smile, as familiar as the way you look at that monster that pretends to be a man. You reach with your hand to put a lock of dark hair behind her ear, and offer a soft smile, “Your hair is different.”

She asks what she hasn’t dared ask in a whole life at your side, “W-What else is different?”

“Everything is, and…nothing is,” Your eyes are dazed, and though you are looking directly at her Katia would swear you cannot see her. “You’re my sister, and you love me. That hasn’t changed.”

She doesn’t quite understand why a part of her sighs in relief at hearing you admit you know -knew?- of her love for you, but she does understand why a part of her tightens in fear at the implications that swim in her mind.

And she voices another question, “And what he is to you, has that changed?”

She doesn’t say his name, maybe because she doesn’t know which one to utter.

You smile, and your eyes focus a bit on her, see more of her, “That could never change.”

Her eyes fall from yours, for she cannot keep looking into a familiar hue and see familiar warmth.

She feels you lean forward and press your brow against hers, a gesture of comfort that only makes her shut her eyes tight and bite back a sob.

“Alll our Fates are woven together,” You promise, a death sentence as you grasp your sister’s hand. “We may forget, but those who weave our Fates cannot.”

Come morning, you won’t remember the previous night; come morning Ivar’s eyes will be less blue; come morning, his pain won’t make the memories return to you like strings that tighten and tell you he needs you, or who you once were.

Come morning, you won’t remember. But Katia will.

And she will vow to do whatever it takes not to lose you to him.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading! Hope I could catch your interest! The first chapter will be up between Tuesday and Wednesday :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @aprilivar

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #Those who weave masterlist

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peggysousfan · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Review

Thanks for the tag @happygtyhvf!!

1. How many do you have on Ao3?

59 but not all of them are written works, a handful are simple manips or aesthetics posted individually

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

564,111.... And that’s only published works😅

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Four technically. There’s The 100, Agent Carter, Captain America the First Avenger, and Marvel’s Avengers.

4. What are your top 5 five by kudos?

Alternate World (23843 words and 386 kudos)

What If (Season 5 AU) (33272 words and 310 kudos)

The Head and the Heart (23448 words and 304 kudos)

I Choose You (27364 words and 278 kudos)

Lone Wolf (56405 words and 224 kudos)

All of these are from The 100 and only 3 of them are completed! Whoops

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to each and every comment asap. but on certain stories I try to respond when I plan on updating the next chapter either soon or the following day, just to give the readers and commenters a head’s up. Other times I have no idea what to say in response to not sound like a robot so it takes a while to think of something lol

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ooohh That would definitely be Project New Generation. I am suppose to make a series to rectify the angst and horror and heartbreak of this story but I don’t know if I will anytime soon😭 If any of my followers have not read this it is not for the faint of heart and there are many TW’s in this.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written a few crossovers but in moderately similar fandoms. The its between either Agent Carter/SHIELD Crossover or Agent Carter/ Avengers crossover.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, and it hurts every time. But lately I have been standing up for myself and being politely rude and telling the haters off. There’s no reason for the BS

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Sometimes, but most often only if requested or challenged to do so. Its just basic smut, nothing too kinky (I think I wrote breeding kink once? But it was mild and requested). I honestly hate writing explicit smut, it makes me uncomfortable. As someone who (TMI btw) Has no sexual feelings for people in general and has no experience whatsoever in the department, I don’t like writing smut. I can gloss over the topic but getting into details is not something I like to do at all.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

There was a app that copped fics and mimicked everything on the website and took many writers stores for profit. A mutual had informed me several of my stories were on that app. I have no idea if it is still happening or not

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t believe so

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes and it was rather fun actually!

13. What is your all time favourite ship?

Tough question since I’m in between fandoms. But rn I have to say bellarke, but peggysous is a very close second!!

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ouch. I am doing all that I can to finish all POSTED WIP’s, however those in drafts? That is another story...😐 I’ll do one for each fandom. so for Agent Carter I don’t think I will ever finish a story of Daniel's past before the show with him meeting Peggy during the war and having a romance being torn by war. like they meet and fall in love and she gets selected for the Super Soldier program and is pulled away. Not canon related at all I know, but it was a idea in the back of my head I started and now has been in drafts for a year🤷‍♀️

As for The 100 I started a fic of Spacekru being able to listen to Clarke’s radio calls each and every day but never being able to talk to her. Each chapter switches POV from space and Earth and I haven’t touched it in months🤦‍♀️

15. What are your writing strengths?

I have no idea... does having a million ideas count? If so than that lol But in all seriousness I have no clue. If I had to guess I would say character portrayal and maybe descriptions?

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Same as strength... too many ideas. Once I start a story I get supper excited and then have another idea and abandon the last one for a while. Its even worse if Its published bc then I absolutely have to finish that story😬 Also I am horrible at tenses. I mix them up a lot and its a horrible habit!!

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love the idea and when I see another language being used in stories. My only concern as for reading and/or writing this is accuracy. I am fluent in one language and know very little of two others I’m studying(Well trying to study) So When writers do use other languages and integrate them into their works, I think it is best to be as accurate as possible and ask for help form a native speaker if possible.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

House of Anubis! Though I will never be able to publish them (And I honestly never would if I could) They’re all written in a notebook back when I was 11 and I let my friend have it to read and I have never seen her since I transferred schools, so.... yeah.

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Uh.... That’s tough one. I would have to say for Agent Carter my favorite would be Agent Carter an AU Series. This story is on Hiatus for now until I can find time to write it again but its just a soft story and a slow burn Peggysous with baby Stephanie. Its heart melting and I love it. Granted it need to do a lot of revision and editing but it is my favorite for this fandom. For The 100 I’d have to say The Head and the Heart!

tagging @bellamyblakru, @cuppatealove, @truth-renowned, @xxawalkinwonderlandxx, @fandomsandxfiles, and any one else if you want to! no pressure :) I just chose some mutuals that I know write fic lol

#tag games #fir writer review #some of this was shocking even to me #oop #about me #ao3 statistics #the 100 #agent carter #peggysous #bellarke

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celiabowens · 4 years ago

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Book recommendations, Literary Fiction edition(?)

A companion to this post (which should be updated, at some point lol)

Short Story Collections:

Salt Slow by Julia Armfield: grotesque and disquieting collection about women and their experience in society, how they view and perceive their own body and desires. Pretty strong mythic, magical realism, body horror elements in here.

The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales by Oliver Sacks: fascinating collection in which Sacks reminishes some particularly odd stories of patients who had to cope with bizarre neurological disorders.

Home Remedies by Xuan Juliana Wang: a collection focused on the Chinese millennial experience. Stories about love and loss, family, immigration and the uncertainty of the future. (also there’s an extremely beautiful short story about a pair of Chinese divers that broke me forever!!!)

Bestiary: The Selected Stories by Julio Cortázar: unforgettable selection of short stories that mix surreal elements to everyday life and apparently ordinary events. Would also recommend All Fires the Fire by the same author.

Novels:

How Much of These Hills is Gold by C. Pam Zhang: one of the biggest debuts of 2020, it follows two recently orphaned children through the gold rush era. An adventurous historical fiction piece that focuses on themes like gender, identity and immigration, this is one of my favorites 2020 reads so yeah, I’d really push it in anyone’s hands to be honest.

Burial Rites by Hannah Kent: historical fiction inspired by the last days of a young woman accused of murder in Iceland in the 1820s. A quite bleak, but beautiful novel (the prose is stunning).

The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave: historical fiction novel set in Norway in the 17th century, following the lives of a group of women in a village that recently (barely) survived a storm that killed all of the island’s men.

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead: the 2020 winner of the Pulitzer Prize. The book follows the lives of two boys sentenced to a reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida. A bleak, but important book, with a shocking final twist (side note, I’ve been recommended The Underground Railroad by Whitehead as well, but I haven’t gotten to it yet. If you’re looking for something quite peculiar, if a bit less refined when compared to The Nickel Boys, The Intuitionist is a quite odd pulpy noir set in an alternate NY about...elevator inspectors *and racism*).

The Leavers by Lisa Ko: haunting book about identity and immigration as the main character is apparently abandoned by his own mother (an undocumented Chinese immigrant) during his childhood. Mainly a story about living in between places and constantly feeling out of place.

The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa: when everyone would probably recommend Murakami (not much against Murakami besides his descriptions of women and their boobs), I suggest checking out some of Ogawa’s books. The recently translated The Memory Police, published in Japan in the mid 90s, is an orwellian dystopian novel set on an unnamed Island where memories slowly disappear. Would also really recommend The Housekeeper and The Professor, a really short novel about a housekeeper hired to clean and cook for a math professor who suffered an injury that causes him to remember new things for only 80 minutes.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong: Ocean Vuong’s debut novel, following a son writing a letter to his illiterate mother. The book seems quite polarising due to Vuong’s writing style (his poetry background is really quite clear and the book doesn’t really follow a regular narrative, rather than portrays events and memories in brief flashes), but I loved it and I’d really just recommend going into it without knowing much? It’s a beautiful exploration of language, family history, trauma, sexuality and more.

Exist West by Mohsin Hamid: this book was fairly popular when it came out (in 2017 I believe) and was often incorrectly marketed as magical realism. Hamid’s book is a brief and quietly brutal journey with a few fantastical elements, following a couple trying to escape their city in the middle of war, as they hear about peculiar doors that can whisk people far away. The doors are, of course, a quite effective metaphor for the immigrant experience and the book does a great job at portraying the main characters’ relationship.

Family Trust by Kathy Wang: this has a really low rating on goodreads which...wow i hate that. Family Trust is a literary family saga/drama about a Chinese-American family residing in the Silicon Valley. It’s often been compared to Crazy Rich Asians, but I believe it to be more on the literary side and definitely less lighthearted.

Pachinko by Min Jin Lee: historical family saga (one of my favorites tbh, I’m absolutely biased, but this book deserved more hype) set in Korea and Japan throughout the 20th century, following four generations of a Korean family. While I wasn’t the biggest fan of the prose, the book has really great characterisation and absolutely fascinating characters. (I’d suggest checking out eventual TW first, in this case).

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker: another recent read, The Silence of the Girls, while not faultless, is a pretty good retelling of The Iliad, narrated through Briseis’ perspective. The prose can feel a bit too modern at times, but it provides the reader with some really strong quotes and descriptions.

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng: and also Little Fires Everywhere by the same author, to be honest. If you’re looking for really really good family dramas, with great explorations of rather complex and nuanced relationships? You should just check out her stuff. Vibrant characters, good writing, and some superb portrayal of longing here.

Nutshell by Ian McEwan: i’m starting with this one only to grab your attention (if you’ve even reached this part lol, congrats), but McEwan’s one of my favorite authors and I’d recommend almost everything I’ve read by him? Nutshell, specifically, is a really odd and fun retelling of Hamlet...told from the pov of an unborn baby. But really, I’d also recommend Atonement (of course), The Children Act, Amsterdam? All good stuff.

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles: I’ve read this book this summer and, while I’m still unsatisfied with the ending, I’d thoroughly recommend this? The novel follows Count Alexander Rostov, who, in 1922, is sentenced to a lifetime of house arrest in the Metropol, a luxurious hotel in the center of Moscow. A singular novel, funny and heartbreaking at once, following a vibrant cast of characters as they come and go from Rostov’s secluded life.

Human Acts by Han Kang: from the bestselling author of The Vegetarian (which honestly, I thoroughly despised lol), Human Acts focuses on the South Korean Gwangju uprising. It’s a really odd (and at times grotesque) experimental novel (one chapter is narrated from the pov of one of the bodies if I remember correctly), so one really has to be in the mood for it, but it’s a really unique experience, worth a chance.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon: sort of a really chunky historical adventure novel following two artists in 1940s/1950s NY, who create a superhero and use him to wage a one man war on the Nazis. A bit slow in places (the pace can be uneven at times and the book is quite long), but an enjoyable novel that does a pretty good job when it comes to exploring rather classic themes of American contemporary fiction: the American dream and the figure of the artist (I think there’s a particularly interesting focus on how the artists navigates the corporate world and its rules) and their creative process.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel: this is a pretty classic rec, the book really got a lot of hype when it came out? It’s a dystopian-ish novel set after civilisation’s collapse, following a post-apocalyptic troupe (of Shakespearean actors). It’s a really odd, but surprisingly quiet book. Not sure if a pandemic is exactly the right time to read it, but I thoroughly recommend it.

The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng: I feel like this book is extremely complex to summarise to be honest. In short, it’s a book set in Malaya at the end of the 1940s, following a woman who, after surviving Japanese wartime camps, spends her life prosecuting war criminals. But truthfully this book is about conflicts and contradictions and in particular about remembering and forgetting. Lovely prose.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: and also The Goldfinch. I’m sure no one really needs me to introduce Donna Tartt?

The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton: quite cerebral mystery set in New Zealand in 1866. Honestly you have to be a patient reader who enjoys novels with a pretty complex structure to like this, but if you’re into this sort of challenging read...go for it? It’s a book of interlocking stories (with 10+ pov and main characters) with a really fascinating structure based on astrological charts, which provide insight to the main characters’ traits and personality as the mystery unfolds.

The Hours by Michael Cunningham: ok...do not watch the movie first. The Hours is an incredibly difficult novel to describe to be honest: it begins by recalling the last moments of Virginia Woolf’s life, as she’s writing Mrs. Dalloway. The book focuses on three separate narratives, each one following a specific character throughout a single day of their own life. Goes without saying that I’d suggest being familiar with Mrs. Dalloway itself first though.

An Artists of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro: not one of Ishiguro’s most famous works (most start reading his work with Never Let Me Go or The Remains of the Day), but probably my favorite out of those I’ve read so far. The novel follows Masuji Ono, an artist who put his work in service of imperialist propaganda throughout WWII. Basically a reflection and an account of the artist’s life as he deals with the culpability of his previous actions.

Stoner by John Williams: I feel like this is an odd book to recommend, because I don’t think someone can truly get the hype unless they read it themselves. Stoner is a pretty straight-forward book, following the ordinary life of an even more ordinary man. And yet it’s so compelling and never dull in its exploration of the characters’ lives and personalities. Also, I’ve just finished Augustus by the same author, which is an epistolary historical fiction novel narrating some of the main events of Augustus’ reign through letters from/by his closest friends and enemies. Really liked it.

Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeleine Thien: back to integenerational family sagas (because I love those, in case it wasn’t clear lol), Do Not Say We Have Nothing follows a young woman who suddenly rediscovers her family’s fractured past. The novel focuses on two successive generations of a Chinese family through China’s 20th century history. While not every character got the type of development they deserved, the author does a good job when it comes to gradually recreating the family’s complex and nuanced history.

There’s probably more but I doubt anyone’s going to reach the end or anything so. There’s that lol.

#book recs #book rec #litblr #2020 reads #all the typos are my own LOL #also i didnt put here philip roth or auster #but tbh #i dont think anyone needs me to rec them???

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lonelyleliel · 3 years ago

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Dark academia reading update

Vicious by Schwab (read) - I don’t think I’ve ever read a book so fast in my life. Holy shit. Loved it. I already have Vengeful, but I wanted to read a different book before that one, because I’m weird. (This was my first Schwab book and her lyrical writing style is inspiring in so many ways as a writer myself.) I’m torn between my next book being…

Ninth House by Bardugo (just started) - I like the elements of the premise, but not the narration nor pacing, which is weird because all the posts I’ve seen on here seem to make this novel seem addictive and compelling. I genuinely don’t know why I can’t get into it, but hopefully it won’t feel like a struggle forever. I’m one chapter in. I’m impressed with setting description so far and I like Alex’s attitude on everything. (Just fyi, I was a grishaverse fan when I was younger, so I do like Bardugo, but still adjusting to her writing style.)

Black Chalk by Yates - (just started) I was obsessed with finding this book and then a friend surprised me by buying it for me. The first few pages are stellar, which is what I expect from every novel I pick up, but I don’t want to sing high praises for this novel just yet because that’s as far as I’ve gotten. It’s very tempting to switch my attention to this one from Ninth House though. (I know nothing about Yates, but the writing style so far is very satisfying.)

Anyone reading Ninth House, without spoilers, tell me why you loved it, liked it, are indifferent about it, or disliked it, please?There was a mix of reviews on Goodreads and I keep leaning towards the indifferent/dislike reviews, but I’m determined to give it a fair chance.

Bardugo is one of those writers who does a wonderful job doing a head dive into the protagonist’s mind and personality. However, sometimes it goes too far and I’m not quite sure what the connection is between the protagonist and the direction of the plot. It works very well for YA because that target audience wants to decide if they relate to the protagonist before getting into their world (I even heard some audiences hate it when there’s a poetic prophecy or poem of any kind related to some element of world building lol). For adult fiction, I personally need that to be reeled in a bit. I need a solid connection between the protagonist(s), the setting, and character motive/concern with a cautious, layered development, where enough is revealed to give me direction, but there’s no rush, only intrigue.

I hope that makes sense because I’m doing everything I can not to be cynical about Ninth House only a chapter in. I have no idea what Alex’s motive/concern is other than she exists at Yale via a full-ride and an erased past and is in a secret society with the ability to see ghosts (Grays?) and resents the twats who are so dense because of their privilege. Yes, she’s the odd one out and hasn’t embraced it yet. I’ve seen it before. I get Alex already because that’s where Bardugo shines, but where the hell is this going?

Going to read another chapter now, but…help.

#ninth house #leigh bardugo #vicious #v e schwab #black chalk #Christopher Yates #help me #dark academia reads #dark academia

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missskzbiased · 4 years ago

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I Hate That I’m Afraid to Lose You (5)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 5,3K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?)

Notes: This chapter is a little bit more angsty. I’d say this is the most angst of the one I’ve written until now (11 chap), from here it will take a lighter turn. Kind of.

It contains a description of an anxiety attack. Though I already warned about it, I think I should do it again. The way I described the anxiety attack and the bipolarity of MC’s mother has to do with my own experiences and none of it necessarily reflects all kinds of manifestations of those above.

Feedbacks are always appreciated.

REMINDER: I’m neither a psychologist nor a psychology student.

Updates: I’ll update it once a week [Tuesdays] because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

///

Hyunjin came into the classroom with wide steps, graceful as always, and you burst out laughing.

He waved friendly to Paris before blushing ─ flustered with your outburst ─ and averting his eyes, walking quickly to his seat as all of you waited for Professor Lee. He sat down next to Paris, making sure he didn’t look your way; eyes focusing straight ahead before Paris turned to him smiling, talking about something you didn’t pay attention.

Last night came back to your mind.

The last thing you expected when you came into your place was to see Paris and Hyunjin sitting on the couch holding ice cream pots ─ both of them with their knees to their chin, a spoon hanging from their mouth as their eyes focused on the screen ─, completely taken aback by something that happened on a movie. Therefore, after you came into your dorm complaining about your day, exhausted by your classes and your work, to witness this scene, you could only stop in your tracks, mouth agape as you watched both of them distracted.

You giggled, eyeing them before muffling your laugh with your hand, shaking your head in disbelief.

You wished you had filmed them.

You could remember clearly how Hyunjin widened his eyes when he saw you dumbfounded, holding the doorframe; his knees straightened abruptly, letting the pot fall from his hand to the floor, the spoon falling to the couch as his mouth opened and closed a bunch of times. He cursed under his breath as he picked up the pot, bashfully trying to fix his mess and avert his eyes, floundering as he mumbled, excusing himself because it was already too late and he had classes in the morning.

“—Don’t you think, Y/N?” Paris turned to you, smiling brightly, and you nodded ─ even though you didn’t hear a thing ─, frowning as you heard Hyunjin gasp, clearly surprised by your answer, making you wonder what you got yourself into this time “So that’s it! We’re going to a party this Friday” She decided and you choked, coughing to recompose yourself.

“We’re doing what?!” Hyunjin muffled a laugh, looking amused at you as you widen your eyes, surprised “You know we have to finish our project! We can’t just go partying!” You whined, making Paris roll her eyes at you as she mouthed something silently, mocking you “Hey!” You nudged her “I mean it! We have work to do!” You insisted but this time Hyunjin spoke up.

“Would you be writing something Friday night?” His face showed he knew you wouldn’t, looking at you with a smug expression that made you poke your tongue against your cheek, bothered “Exactly!” He smiled at himself, proud you didn’t answer him, taking it as a victory.

“But I would write on Saturday! So if we party on Friday it’ll disturb our work on Saturday” You retorted, making him roll his eyes “What? Not everyone is unoccupied like you! I work every day, remember?” You scoffed, and Paris sighed.

“Come on? For me?” She looked at you with puppy eyes “It’s been ages since you came to a party with me! We could even invite Han and Chan! It will be fun” her eyes twinkled as she clasped her hands, waiting for your answer.

“Okay… Why invite him though?” You tsked before muttering, resting your cheek on your hand, your elbow on the desk as you watched Mr.Lee finally arriving. Paris chuckled and shrugged before opening her notebook and looking ahead too.

“I think you two should hang out a little bit, know each other so we can make a good project! Don’t you want to ace this?” She smiled triumphantly, knowing you would never turn down a chance to ace anything. You narrowed your eyes at her, scoffing.

“You’re a sly one, I see…” She laughed, turning her attention to Mr.Lee, who was clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention.

The classes didn’t have anything too different this time, few discussions now and then, some people complaining about the project… The usual. When the bell finally rang, you turned your head to Paris as you wiped everything inside your bag, watching her doing the same, ready to get up and meet up with Han.

“Do you want to eat with us?” She asked Hyunjin, a friendly smile on her face “We’ll be eating with Han today” She added, waiting for his answer. Your eyes darted to Hyunjin, who shifted his weight, an unease frown on his face. You realized he would probably be uncomfortable to come along with you considering he fought with Han.

“Maybe next time? Han mentioned he wanted to talk to us” You lied, noticing how he seemed to relax, looking in your eyes, puzzled. He probably didn’t understand why you jumped in to help him. It wasn’t really about helping him though, it was about making sure your lunch would go smoothly, a peaceful day ahead of you.

“Yeah, next time” He nodded “I’m going to meet Chan today anyway, so… Yeah” You arched your brow; sure he was lying as well. Paris didn’t seem to notice anything, so she just waved goodbye and followed you to the halls, meeting an anxious Han out there. He eyed you both, smiling awkwardly when his eyes stopped on you.

“Hey?” He said in a high pitch, making you narrow your eyes “So… You’re okay?” You tilted your head, confused, nodding to him. What the hell was that about? You three made your way to the stairs, chatting up, and you couldn’t help but notice Han was acting really weird for now. You got on the line ─ each one of you choosing something different to eat so you could share ─, before finally sitting down, looking at your friend as he focused on his food, pretending not to notice you.

“Okay, what’s the deal?” You sighed, resting your fork on the plate, the tinkling sound getting Paris and Han's attention “You’re acting weird! If this is about Hyunjin, I already know you punched him, you don’t need to hide it or whatever” He shot his brows up, clearly surprised by the reveal, but not as much as Paris.

“You did what?!” She dropped her fork on her plate, mouth agape “Why would you hit him? Can’t you be expelled or… I don’t know, I don’t understand your sports things!” Her eyes were worried and alert, unlike her usual attitude, and Han swallowed his food, weighing his words.

“You see… No, I wasn’t expelled because no one is really talking about it… I didn’t do much, it was only two punches and he didn’t make a scene either” He explained “Yeah, I know it was irresponsible, I could have lost my chance in this match, I know” He rolled his eyes before Paris could speak up “I just… When I saw you crying, I was so sure he had played you!” He looked at you, ashamed, and you snorted.

“You thought what?” Your voice was high pitched, amused by his delusional self “Han, I don’t like him! I told you a million times, for lord’s sake! I was watching him that day because I was curious, man… I told you! I don’t have a crush and I will never have a crush on Hyunjin, you have to get this on your brain” You whined, making him laugh.

“Wait! You thought Hyunjin had hurt her feelings and you just went straight to him and punched him?! Han, you could have lost your chance!” Paris scolded, far more serious than you and him. She was upset, the frown on her face made it pretty clear; her clenched jaw didn’t let much doubt either.

“She’s right! You shouldn’t even have thought about getting in a fight, in the first place! It’s ridiculous” You were fast to agree with her “What did you think? That you were going to defend my honor or something? Also, you didn’t even explain yourself! He’s thinking you were mad because of a random girl!” He frowned at this, confused.

“No, he knows exactly why I punched him” He tilted his head, a lost expression on his face “I said that he deserved it for making you cry… Chan even scolded me after this and…” He eyed Paris, unsure “And told me it was a family issue” He decided to state, searching any signs of anger on your eyes for what he just said.

You were dumbfounded.

“Wait… He knew you hit him because of me?” You asked surprised. You had a clear memory of him saying Han should have done it because he was jealous of his face. You weren’t crazy. Also, Chan knew it? If Chan scolded him, he surely was close to the fight… He even told Han it was a family issue? So why the hell he didn’t expose Hyunjin?

Then it struck you.

“I can’t believe it! He lied to me” You rested your back on the chair, arms falling to your sides as you looked taken aback “I mean, he’s a liar, okay!” Paris snorted at that, tilting her head as she looked at you, curious about what you were thinking “Hyunjin lied to me but he knew I would discover Han knew I had a family issue” You explained, your thoughts running fast around the place “So I think he lied to protect something important from me! It couldn’t be about Chan telling Han about it, because He knew one of them would talk about this sometime… It can only mean he knows it too and he was trying to hide it?” You grabbed your chin, pensive.

“Well, I don’t know if Chan talked about it with him… He talked to me in private” Han pointed out “He could be mocking me just because he’s an asshole” You considered his statement, wondering if he would do something like this.

Yeah, He would.

“I don’t think so” Paris interjected “He’s not as bad as he seems! I don’t think he would mock Han behind his back like this without a reason… It’s not like it would upset you that much either” She looked at you, and you nodded “I mean, of course, you wouldn’t like him badmouthing your friend but he didn’t insist on it, right?”

“Yeah, he just said and dropped it. It’s not like him… Usually, he likes to bug me a lot more” You agreed “So He was actually worried about me?” You gasped “What the hell?!”

“I’m saying it!” Paris whined “He’s not as bad as he seems… I think you two would get along if you weren’t so settled on hating him” She shrugged “I think he knew you would feel awkward, so he just lied to cover it up” You nodded, flabbergasted.

“I would never guess he had some decency in him” You admitted, making Paris laugh.

“So now we like him?” Han spat, mad “He’s still an asshole! He has been teasing you for years and he’s a fuckboy! He’s just being nice because… Actually, why were you together?” He asked suspiciously. You rolled your eyes. Paris chuckled, resuming to her eating, her eyes attentive on both of you as she ate.

“We have a project together” You clarified “The three of us” You pointed to Paris as well “Why are you so afraid I’m hanging out with him? Do you think I will fall for him and be crushed? It would be easier for me to crush him” You snorted but he remained serious.

“That’s probably exactly what all the girls he dumped thought too” He picked up his fork, bringing food to his mouth, averting his eyes from yours “I just don’t want you to get hurt… There are tons of guys out there for you” He said shyly. Paris hummed, like she knew something, before looking at you mischievously.

“He’s worrying too much” She assured “I think Hyunjin can be a fine guy, he just needs some love… I’m his psychologist, I would know” She joked, and you laughed along with her.

////

Paris waited for you on the couch, her notebook on her lap.

You sighed as you closed the door, expecting it to happen since you needed to do your project and could only discuss things with Paris at night, after work. She looked at you sympathetically, knowing that even though you suggested doing it like this, it would be hard on you. You sat down across her, cross-legged, dropping your bag to the floor and resting your elbows on your knees, your face burying into your hands as you let out a huff of air, tired.

“So, let’s start this shit?” You asked, raising your head to meet her eyes.

“So… I read your essay…” She began awkwardly, eyeing you worried “And I think we should begin from your… Hm…” You snorted, pitying the way she seemed concerned to hurt you. Paris had been worried about you since your outburst on Friday ─ when you explained to her a lot of your problems with your mother and your father─ and you couldn’t blame her. You weren’t the one to cry, so she was probably really concerned about it.

“You can say it, Paris” You reassured her “I have abandonment issues, I know” You chuckled. She seemed relieved that you had said it, sighing as if you took away all the weight from her shoulders, adjusting her notebook on her lap, and nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, and I think we should talk about this” She stated, looking in your eyes “So, tell me about your father” She asked, and although you found the situation amusing ─ Paris looking like a psychologist waiting for you to talk about your inner thoughts ─, you couldn’t smile when you spoke up.

“Well, He left me alone with my mother because He didn’t know how to deal with her illness…” You shrugged “My mother is bipolar and she wasn’t diagnosed correctly in the beginning… They said to us that she was depressed, so she treated her depression, and my father took care of her when she was depressed” You tightened your lips, pausing for a moment before a bitter smile took over your features “Then she got normal again… And then she got maniac” You scoffed, hand trailed to your hair; fingers sweeping it with no need, trying to dissipate the distress “She wasn’t the same woman that he met and loved” You spat, remembering clearly the way he said those words to her.

“So he couldn’t deal with her illness and abandoned you” Paris concluded, noting something down. You laughed humorlessly, head turning to the side for a moment, a habit you had when you were feeling overwhelmed.

When you needed to look away from something that bothered you.

“He abandoned us” You agreed bitterly “He left his ten years old daughter behind with a madwoman!” You raised your voice, anger filling you again before you felt your eyes stinging “He left me there to take care of her all by myself! I don’t want and I won’t forgive him!” Your hands turned into fists, your nails digging deep into your palms “He can’t just come back and say he loves me! He can’t expect me to love him back! He shouldn’t have left me behind!” Paris got silent, attentive as you got things out of your chest.

“Would you prefer if he took you with him and left your mother all by herself?” She asked; no bad intentions on her voice but it still hurt you. You chewed your lip, averting your eyes, ashamed “Is that why you think you abandoned her now?” She asked, referring to your previous rant on Friday, and your eyes darted to hers.

“It’s not that I would prefer he took me with him… I wanted… I wanted someone, okay? I wanted someone” You sighed “How did he think I felt then? She wasn’t the mother that I knew! She wasn’t loving, she was uncontrollable! She was mean, she was… She was a monster” You hid your face behind your hand, feeling the tears coming to your eyes “And then she got depressed again” You choked when you scoffed, holding down your tears as you could “Because he left us… Because she didn’t want to live without him…”

“Did she try to…” Paris didn’t dare to ask, so you shook your head.

“No, we got her on her pills again. This time the doctor knew for sure what she had, so it was a little bit better” You explained “Every time she got a little bit excited though, I thought she could be ill again at any time… We didn’t have enough to all the expenses, so we had to move out. I started to work as soon as I could, and it took all my time… School, work, and take care of her. That was all I had. That was all I was” Paris grimaced, pity written all over her face “Don’t” You said sharply.

“I know how it is to not be able to do the things you want… It’s hard to be closed up in a world you don’t want to belong” She admitted “But in the end I got someone, and I think you do too” She smiled at you, reassuringly.

“Don’t you dare say to me that my father is back and now he loves and cares for me! It’s not the same! Your mother always tried to protect you! He didn’t give a shit!” You slammed your fist against the couch, wrathful. Paris sighed, shaking her head.

“That’s not what I meant… You have Chan and me now, Y/N” She reminded, a small smile on her face “You have Han and maybe even Hyunjin…” She risked, checking your reaction. You snorted, your fingers brushing your hair again before you rested your cheek on your hand, looking at her, discouraged.

“What is it with you? Why do you want me to befriend him?” You felt gloomy, the anger fading away with the sudden change of the subject, the curiosity taking your best “You invited him to a party, you invited him to our lunch, and now you’re trying to make me think he can be our friend?” You tilted your head, widening your eyes in realization as you detached your cheeks from your palms, lifting your head “Do you like him?” You asked surprised.

“What? No!” She looked at you as if you were dumb, grimacing and moving her head backward, getting a double-chin “I think you guys should talk, okay? I read both of your essays and I just think you guys would click! Both of you have a mom issue and abandonment problems” She clarified, widening her eyes as she realized what she had just said, “Don’t tell him I said it!” She pleaded quickly.

“Oh? Does he have mom issues? What a surprise!” You sneered “That explains a lot, actually… So he’s just a needy guy who hides behind a fuckboy facade” You hummed “Disappointing but not surprising if you wanna know my opinion” You chuckled “He just keeps dumping girls around because he has some kind of abandonment issues… I can’t believe I was so curious about him for this” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not following you… Why are you so against him? ‘Cause I can’t believe you despise him so much because he’s needy and has some problems that you also have” She tightened her grip on her notebook, probably expecting you to say something mind blowing for her writing, expectant.

“It’s just that he doesn’t take responsibility! He just hurt people around him and he doesn’t want to face the consequences!” Paris narrowed her eyes, tilting her head, pensive.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” She moved her hand, pencil hovering over the notebook, eyes focused on you, apparently following an interesting trail of thoughts in her mind. You frowned, voicing your confusion, not quite getting what she wanted from you “What you said just now. Why you don’t like him” She repeated, eyes unwavering.

“He’s irresponsible…” You repeated warily “He can’t stop hurting people around him, and he doesn’t want to face the kind of person that he is” Paris nodded, noting things down, reading those few words, again and again, going back a page and comparing something, humming in the end.

“Now tell me again why you’re hating on yourself” She asked calmly.

“I don’t hate myself” You countered right away.

“Interesting... Because my notes disagree with you” She pointed out “You clearly blame yourself for leaving your mom to come to college” She tapped her pencil twice on the page, eyeing you. You nodded, seeing no point in denying something you had verbalized to her before “I know I’m not a psychologist but as a Music Major and as a future lyricist I noticed some things about your writing and your speech… Never once you wrote you abandoned your mom to come to college but you said it twice to me” She looked like she had just discovered something incredible.

“So what?” You blurted, completely confused about what was so revealing about it.

“You also presented in detail a lot of things about your father… How he abandoned you and obviously how you hate him because of this” Your eyes lit in understanding, letting out a scoff “See? You’re also in denial” She smirked, proud of herself.

“Look, I blame myself because I don’t want to be like him… It doesn’t mean I hate myself, okay?” You spoke as if she was a kid “I never wrote that I abandoned her because I don’t like this word and—“ She interrupted you promptly.

“Because you’re in denial” She added, still proud of herself.

“I’m not in denial” You retorted, fuming “I just don’t want to be like him, so I didn’t phrase it like…” Paris eyed you knowingly and you shut your mouth, defeated “I’m in denial…” You realized, eyes widening. Great, that was all you needed! Not only you sucked but you also didn’t want to admit it.

“I know you’ll get angry now… But listen to me, okay?” Paris licked her lips, eyes analyzing you briefly before she decided to speak up again “You also said your father was irresponsible for leaving a child behind to take care of another human being… And you kinda were hurt by him… And you may think he doesn’t acknowledge his mistakes and stuff like this…” You bit your lips, nodding.

“I get it, I’m projecting my father on Hyunjin” You concluded, sighing, the conversation was making you worn out “I can’t believe it… All those years thinking he was a jerk and it turned out I’m the jerk after all” You whistle, taken aback by all your talking. You should have known it before… It was obvious you didn’t give a shit about his grades or the fact he seemed to have everything in the palm of his hands… Chan wasn’t exactly a humble boy and you were best friends with him.

“If I may say it, I think you’re not only projecting your father on him but also your self-hatred” She confessed, shifting her weight in her chair and biting her lips, clearly uncomfortable “I mean, you’re in denial, right? You also didn’t acknowledge in your essay the consequences of your acts… You said you left your mom with your father, and I know you think you’re being like him by doing it but… That was it” You looked at her in wonder, thinking about what she was saying.

“You mean I’m not facing the consequences of my acts” You decided to clarify, eyes narrowing “Just like my father” You added, scoffing. You never felt so disappointed in yourself, the shame washed over you, disgust filling every fiber of your body “I mean… I never thought I hated myself before… I work hard, I study hard, I do everything I can to be perfect and more than enough… I always thought it made me better than him” You sighed “Sometimes I thought it made me better than other people too” You confessed, embarrassed.

“I don’t think you’re like him, Y/N… I think you have to stop overlooking what you really feel” She looked at you sympathetically, eyes filled with pity “You overwork yourself and I think you do this because you can’t stand being alone with your own mind” You shut your eyes, all the things she said sinking into your mind slowly.

It hurt you.

“You’re right… I hate myself” You agreed, voice faltering. You could feel the pang in your heart, the shattering feeling that consumed you “I hate that I’m turning into someone I always despised… What is my excuse for hating him now? He abandoned my mom and so did I, Paris” You felt the tears coming to your eyes, each broken piece you tried so much to ignore and hold together falling apart “He lived his life without a care and I’m living mine now… The first chance I got to run away… I just did it… And I keep telling myself that I left her with him, that I wouldn’t leave her alone… But what if he didn’t come back, Paris?” You let the tears roll freely, the last string that held you back snapped just like this.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You curled yourself, fingers fisting your hair, pulling it as you rocked your body back and forth; heart aching on your chest like a thousand hooks were stinging and dragging it against your will. You were so determined to bring your focus back that you didn’t even hear her getting out of her chair, hand on your back startling you more than helping.

She rubbed circles there, trying to calm you down. The gentle touch was just one of the things your mind had to face right now, wild thoughts spreading everywhere, making you unable to focus on just one of them. Your mind sounded like a riot, thousands of thoughts and voices trying to make their way to your brain ─ trying to make a point ─ and you couldn’t hear any of them, although they were all you could hear right now. Somehow her voice made its way to your brain, a gentle tone in contrast with all the chaos on your mind.

The gentleness was strange.

Unwelcomed.

Like it didn’t belong there.

Like you didn’t deserve it.

“I’m a monster, Paris” You managed to say, voice cracking, fragile “I’m just like him! Just like him!” You spat, pulling your hair harder, trying to focus yourself back with the pain you felt on your scalp “I would abandon her just like him… I would leave her all by herself, Paris, all alone! And now he’s here… He’s here and he’s taking my place! He’s taking care of her and she’s forgetting me, Paris! She hates me! She thinks I’m the reason why they broke up!” You rocked your body faster, hyperventilating, your grasps for air didn’t seem enough to fill your lungs and for a moment here you felt like this was it, you were going to die.

You couldn’t discern what you were saying, what was true and what wasn’t.

You just voiced it.

Everything your mind could bring up.

You grasped for some air, desperate, one of your hands shot to your throat, groping it, trying to feel something you weren’t sure what was. Maybe you wanted to feel the air going through your throat. Maybe you wanted to make sure you were breathing; that you weren’t really suffocating, that you were going to make through it. Maybe you just wanted to feel your veins and arteries, the soft throbbing as a concrete sign that you were indeed alive, even though it felt like your heart was going to burst any second now.

“Y/N, listen to me! Listen to me” Her tone was firm but as hard as you tried to lift your head to look at her, all you could concentrate was on your heart drumming inside your chest and your lungs burning inside your thorax. You breathed deeper, harder, faster, trying the best you could to get some air, feeling suffocated. Your thoughts weren’t behind; they tried to suffocate you, giving you no space to think, no time to breath, making you unable to focus on her voice.

You were sure she was repeating it over and over again but you couldn’t hear it.

Her voice was a soft scratch in the back of your mind.

“She’s right… It was my fault! My fault!” You blurted, watching as your tears wetted your pants “I should have made him stay, Paris… I shouldn’t have let him go!” You choked on your own gasp, coughing while trying to catch your breath, your fingers leaving your throat to hold your face, nails digging into your cheek as you tried to recover some control of your mind, the pain being the only way you could think of.

Then you suddenly did it.

Your heart started to slow down, the loud bang on your head still present; your gasps started to be enough to fill your lungs, tears starting to dry on your eyes, throat hurting from your crying and grip, body trembling as you felt you could uncurl yourself, scalp hurting and head clouded.

“Breathe” She said, frightened by your outburst; watching as you embraced yourself, small on the couch “Are you better? Do you want some water? Nevermind, you’ll drink water” She got up from the couch, getting a bottle on the minibar and coming back, handling it to you “Drink, you have to calm down… Oh my god, you startled me” She sighed, relieved it had ended “Y/N… You’re not a monster for following your dreams, you know that, right? You didn’t leave her behind, she’s with your father now” She reminded you.

“What if she wasn’t?” You asked again, drinking the water eagerly “I know… I know it wasn’t my fault that he left… I’m… I mean, I was a child, I couldn’t make him stay” You sighed “I know that, It’s just… She thinks that I’m the one to blame and… Well, I took care of her all this time, Paris. I literally did everything I could, I left everything I could have behind just to take care of her… And she thinks I destroyed her life”

“She doesn’t think that” She assured promptly “Y/N, she’s ill. She’s in a crisis. Right now, when you said you were the one at fault you didn’t mean it, right?” You shook your head, and she grabbed your shoulder, squeezing it “See? You weren’t in your best state of mind and you said things that you don’t believe… Whatever she’s saying now, she doesn’t mean it”

“She… Well, she used to say that she loved me” You muttered, embarrassed “When she was okay… She said she loved me… She thanked me once” You didn’t know why you felt the urge to say it but it seemed right when Paris smiled at you, encouraging “It still doesn’t change the fact that I would leave her if I could” You sighed and her smile dropped.

“You know you would do something about it… Chan could have helped you… You could bring her to live closer, live with her… You wouldn’t leave her behind because you’re not a monster, Y/N, you never were and you will never be” She reassured, and you smiled weakly at her “I never saw a monster helping someone as you did, okay? There’s no way you’re a monster”

“I… Thank you, Paris” You said sincerely, looking at her, grateful you had her by your side, “I think I needed to hear that”

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dirty-holy-things · 4 years ago

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The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 17 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-16 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. Chapter contains canon-typical violence and descriptions of injuries. Reference to past abuse. Please exercise caution if this is a sensitive subject for you. Also - I promise there's a happy ending, but it might take a bit of angst to get there. For those who have kept up with this fic, sorry for the delay in updating - grad school has kept me busy, but regular updates should resume.

Words: 5.1k update, 80.9k total.

There had been changes within yourself as well, even though you struggled to admit it after having spent so much of your life suppressing that which was now showing itself within you. Your safety had always depended on your ability to mask your powers, or at least conveniently use them, and now they were unexpectedly breaking through your barriers. Through observation and meditation, you had started to put together that your abilities and powers swelled whenever your emotions did, just as they had when you were younger. When Din was once running behind schedule for a bounty, your nerves and fear alone were able to entirely warp the canteen you had purchased for yourself, crushing it to the point that it was unusable junk. And when Din finally returned home to you, bruised and battered, and yet focused only on touching and kissing every inch of you — you found that his cuts and bruises began to disappear from underneath your fingertips without any direct focus or attention. There was an undercurrent of power that was growing within you and Grogu, and it was beginning to breach the walls that you had put in place to hold it back; and you had no way of predicting when that wall may cave in.

These ever-increasing powers and revelations were both fascinating and terrifying. You did not know what would happen from here if you and Grogu continued down this unmapped path. You could understand that power without training could be exceptionally dangerous, but how would you even go about learning how to control it all? You had once been able to suppress your connection to the Force, but you never actually learned how to master this connection; repression is not true mastery or control, as it only delays the chaos.

But who was there to learn from? The Jedi Order was no more, the grasp of the Sith had receded with the rise of the New Republic, and the civilizations that connected with the Force as a form of magic were incredibly closed-off and tight-lipped. You had been extraordinarily lucky to stumble unto the teachings of Ixxith as you had, but now that the seal had been broken, now that Pandora’s box had been opened, you were faced with an impossible question — where do you go from here?

Image credit to my love @knivesareout as she makes beautiful things and supports my writing.

An eternal thank you to @soyelfuegoquearde for beta'ing my baby and giving me constructive feedback.

And love to @bdavishiddlesbatch and @louderrthanthunderr for all of their love and support.

"We fall in love because we long to escape from ourselves with someone ideal as we area corrupt. But what if such a being were one day to turn around and love us back? We can only be shocked. How could they be divine as we had hoped when they have the bad taste to approve of someone like us? If in order to love, we must believe that the beloved surpasses us in some way, does not a cruel paradox emerge when we witness this love returned? If they are really so wonderful, how could they love someone like me?" - Alain de Botton

The universe felt brighter as you traveled through it now, suspended in space and time within the secure confines of your roaming home. You continued to watch the stars streak past you on every journey, still feeling just as entranced by them as you had on the first flight from Chandrila — but it was even more of a beautiful and brilliant thing, as you now had the incomparable comfort of being known, and being loved. For a brief moment, you had worried that your admission of love would make things complicated, awkward, unbalanced; but your fears had been completely dismissed and rendered unnecessary, as it had brought you and Din closer than you could have imagined.

It was the little gestures and moments throughout the day that allowed those fears to be quieted. His hands would brush along your body in passing; he brought you a blanket to the cockpit after seeing you wrapped tightly around yourself to fight off the chill; he would gently tuck away the stray pieces of hair that fell across your face. And you became less reserved in showing your affections as well; you would often drape yourself across the back of the pilot’s seat and over his expansive shoulders as he navigated the Razor Crest through the atmospheres of new planets and hyperspace. You would bring him food and water, reminding him to take care of himself in ways that he often forgot to. And the two of you spent more time encased in the security of darkness, to the point where you joked that you might develop night vision. Very few things can grow in the absence of light, and yet here you were, your love thriving in this unexpected place.

You found that you didn’t necessarily feel as though you were missing anything, by not being able to see his face. Your love felt whole, comprehensive, and possibly even more valuable as it was so unconditional in its nature; you would love him endlessly, and you didn’t need a face to assign that love to, as he was so much more than the anatomical structure that existed behind the helmet. Somehow, the darkness felt more freeing than the light. The comfort and security of the darkness offered you both the opportunity to be completely and entirely exposed; no helmet, no clothing, no beskar, no self-doubt. It was infinite in its nature, and allowed for infinite possibilities.

How beautiful, these little infinities you had created together.

And while you never held any regrets for the life you shared with Din, you understood that some things were not worth repeating. You didn’t offer to help with a job again after Corellia, and it was a decision that you had come to by yourself. Again, you held no regrets for what had transpired on the industrial planet as it had been the catalyst that had brought the truth to the surface, the truth about your love, but it had left some wreckage in the process. Your sense of self-preservation and fear had been reignited when the Twi’lek had made unwanted physical advances, and although you knew you were safe now, it was challenging to quiet that instinctual part of yourself that had risen up, desperately seeking to sustain your hard-won survival.

Following the events of Corellia, you started to have the occasional nightmare, your mind resurfacing old wounds and memories that you had worked to let go of and leave on Chandrila. You would have dreams of the torrential thunderstorms of Eadu, threatening to drown you as your family watched, making no effort to help you stay afloat. You would feel the radiating pain of Orron’s blows throughout your body, every old wound somehow reemerging and aching anew. Sometimes the terror and pain of the nightmare was quick to pass upon waking, but there were some occasions in which you woke up crying and thrashing, a scream trapped in your constricted throat. Sometimes, you would wake up shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, chest heaving as the tears flowed; upon waking, you were always disoriented and scared for a moment, until you realized you were still at home and you were still wrapped securely in Din’s arms. You knew Din hated seeing you like that, tearful and distressed, and you didn’t want to cause any further hurt to yourself or to him. So you made the decision to no longer act as bait.

There was no sense in reopening old wounds, and creating new ones in the process. If you were to live with these pains, you could at least avoid inflicting them onto others.

Din had been supportive of your choice to no longer participate in bounties. He had reassured you that he still believed in your capabilities and value as a companion, but agreed that the reduction in stress would be worth the reduction in payouts. It had been tough to find a way to keep yourself occupied and still feel like a valuable, contributing asset; you knew you would never be content to simply exist here, offering nothing to Din except your body. While your originally agreed-upon partnership ended up not lending itself to you becoming a bounty hunter, you were not about to become a deadbeat, indolent passenger either.

The first few weeks after Corellia were alright, as you found odd jobs around the ship that you could tend to; repairing sagging panels, cleaning away the cobwebs, reorganizing equipment. These were tasks that you could manage, even with your limited mechanical and engineering knowledge. But eventually, as time wore on and your journeys carried you further along, you started to run out of tasks that could be done on the ship. Needing something to do, you then turned to managing additional business responsibilities, hoping to relieve Din of some of the stress that he carried on those broad shoulders. You kept a more organized, detailed record of his jobs and finances, and made sure there was an appropriate stock of supplies to support the Razor Crest’s three travelers.

And then there was the kid — you quite often found yourself managing him.

Following your journey to Bardotta, something had awoken in both you and Grogu; it was as if a creature that had laid dormant for many years had been awoken from its hibernation, and had returned with renewed strength. While you felt this change deeply within yourself, it presented itself most visibly in Grogu and his increasing abilities. You frequently had to search for him within the ship, as he had been working on learning how to cloak himself as you once had, adding this to his other skills. He was not able to fully vanish into his surroundings as you were, but he was decent enough at camouflaging himself to the point where you once had a panic attack that he had managed to escaped the ship into the wild forests of Dantooine while under your supervision. He was also experimenting with bringing larger and larger objects to his small green grasp, most noticeably larger and larger portions of food, or other comfort items like blankets. His growing curiosity and expansion of power hadn’t been allthat concerning until a particularly rough tantrum, during which he pushed both you and Din a good three feet back from him, without ever laying a hand on you. The changes occurring could no longer be denied or ignored, and you understood you would have to confront them at some point.

Your best attempt at navigating this next step was to seek out knowledge in a different format; as Din’s travels occasionally brought you to larger cities, you would spend a portion of the layover browsing the city’s libraries and book stores, if they existed, poring over the texts to see if there was any history, legends, instructions, or insights that could be obtained. You had very little success at finding anything that taught you about Force powers and how to use them, however you had managed to find several interesting texts that chronicled the historical power struggle between the Jedi and the Sith. You had heard whispered stories and legends as a child, tales of heroes and villains who carried out the unending battle of good versus evil.

And as you read of these wars and conflicts, you came to an interesting conclusion — depending on the perspective of the available source material, both Jedi and Sith could be considered good, or evil.

Thinking back to Ixxith’s teachings about the importance of balance, you could understand how these two diametrically opposed sides were continually fighting against the scale of the universe that sought balance. From your wide assortment of readings, you understood that the universe itself truly held no favor for good or evil, Jedi or Sith, and it only ever sought an equilibrium — and yet the universe’s occupants insisted on living within one extreme or the other, the scale never allowed to settle at a place of peace and balance.

You enjoyed studying the texts that you had managed to acquire, and learning more about the history of those with abilities like you, even though it may not have been the specific knowledge you had set out to find. Occasionally, you would talk with Din about the things that you discovered in these books, which prompted him to share more about the history of Mandalore and their role in the galaxy’s history and development. This newfound, strengthening point of connection between you was beautiful and valuable in its own right, even though it may not have offered much help for corralling yourself and the kid’s behaviors.

Reading had given you something to do during the down time while Din was working, and while the kid was self-contained or safely entertained. You had never had much time to dedicate to your own hobbies and interests before, and it was refreshing to be able to have your own passions that you could pursue as you desired.

Having few travel expenses of your own, you were still living quite comfortably off of the bounties you had profited from, and you were able to purchase the things that caught your eye or interest. This led to a steadily-expanding corner of the cabin that became yours as it was occupied with stacks of books, piles of blankets, an assortment of snacks, and a respectable wardrobe. The fresher also now showed evidence of your residency, as some of your specialty products had found their way to the shelves and the shower; silky lotions, a nice brush, hygiene products that didn’t exist in the shape of a bar. The Razor Crest was gradually becoming a shared space, a shared home, and were someone to step foot onto the ship, they would be able to determine that the fearsome Mandalorian was no longer maintaining a solitary existence.

This change in Din’s lifestyle was becoming more and more clear to outsiders as you now frequently accompanied him to his negotiations and trade-offs with Karga when on Nevarro. The older man had been excited by your reoccurring presence, and while he had teased Din for it in the beginning, he had since relaxed and always welcomed the two or three of you with a genuine smile. And with each visit to the volcanic planet, Din grew more comfortable with claiming your relationship openly; he almost always kept a hand on you, tracing pressured circles into your skin, or if you were seated with some degree of privacy, gently stroking the inside of your thigh from underneath the table as a tease for what was to come. There were rarely moments in which you were left alone, and you found you preferred it this way. While Orron had once insisted upon keeping you within arms reach, out of his own need for power and control, you understood Din’s motives to be different. He wanted to protect you, wanted to show you off, just genuinely wanted to be with you because he loved being with you. And you also knew that he would never deny you an opportunity to venture off on your own, to explore the town or take Grogu to play with the local children.

Today had been no exception to that truth; as Din and Karga haggled over upcoming bounties, you grew bored and restless, and decided you would prefer to stretch your legs with a walk around town, and feel some sunlight on your skin as it was a fairly nice day. You squeezed his knee gently, getting his attention before nodding your head to the door of the cantina, where the three of you had gathered for this business dealing. Din nodded wordlessly, trusting you to keep yourself safe and return to him when you were ready. This unconditional sense of trust was new to you, but you loved every moment of it, and loved Din for offering it so readily to you.

You excused yourself from the table and strolled out of the bar, knowing that Din’s eyes had followed your entire journey through the tables and patrons until you exited into the bustling town center. The sunlight felt nice on your skin, and the slight breeze kept the air from feeling heavy and stagnant around you; you stretched your limbs and you felt the cracking and popping of your joints. You needed breaks like this, to be able to physically stretch your body and keep it limber and in shape.

And yet, despite the small space of the Razor Crest, you had still found ways to keep your body moving; Din had certainly made physical exercise more enjoyable. You thought back to all of the nights that had now been spent on the floor of the Razor Crest, as your exhausted bodies had collapsed into one another; you loved every minute of the physical exertion the two of you created, but your body needed more. It needed to run, jump, stretch, bend, without the constraints of the small cabin space. But Maker, did making love with Din feel like the most glorious and exhilarating use of your body; you marveled at every moment of passion the two of you shared, holding nothing back in the pursuit of giving the other what they desired.

You were brought back to the moment by an oddly dressed man bumping into you; you turned to apologize, as you had been the one to have stopped in the middle of the street, but they had already run off by the time you looked for them. Shrugging, you carried on with your afternoon expedition. You had intentionally chosen comfortable and lightweight clothing today, knowing it would offer a nice opportunity to stretch your legs. As you strolled through town, you felt yourself start to pick up your pace gradually until you were jogging along at a decent speed, leaving the town behind you as you ascended the black volcanic hills that surrounded the area that had since become familiar to you. From atop the hills, you could see the cantina, the school, the marketplace, and off in the distance you could see the Razor Crest as it was undergoing refueling and maintenance.

Continuing to run for a while, just along the outskirts of the city, you relished the feeling of the breeze against your skin; while Nevarro was hot and the air somewhat sulfurous due to the volcanoes, it was still a nice change from the recycled air of the ship, and was certainly better than some of the atmospheres of other planets you had journeyed to. You could feel the lava rocks and ash shifting beneath your feet as you ran, offering just enough resistance to make your heart race and your lungs expand with forceful, concentrated inhalations.

Having now circled about half of the city, watching the landscape change from your position above it, you settled down onto a spot that offered some dry grass to sit comfortably on. You waited for your heart rate to slow back to a resting pace, and stretched your limbs out around you, loving the bit of soreness that came along as your muscles stretched and contracted. You allowed yourself to rest here for a while, clearing your mind as you worked to let the Force flow through you, just as Ixxith had taught you. You could feel the Force moving through you gently, almost like a breeze passing through an open window. You settled into this feeling, into the peace that it offered, as silence and tranquility had become rare within the steel confines of your home. Relaxing, you only barely noticed the breeze that seemed to push and pull the air through your lungs, as you sank into the comfortable silence for a while.

Sensing a growing chill in the air, your eyes opened to scene around you. The sun had begun its descent behind the volcanic hilltops and you knew it was time to be on your way, to return to Din and Grogu, to your home and to your bed. Pushing yourself up from the ground, you brushed off the dust and debris that had pressed into your body and clothing, before starting a comfortable pace down the hillside and back into the city.

As you passed some of the houses that made up the outskirts of the city, you could sense that something, or someone, was watching you; turning to look all around, you didn’t see anything unusual. You tried to shake off the feeling as you navigated yourself down a familiar city path, shifting your focus towards your upcoming reunion with Din; thinking of the way he had pinched the inside of your thigh earlier shot your heart rate right back up to its previously racing pace.

And yet there was a persistently odd feeling around you though, one that you couldn’t seem to shake, even with the thought of Din. Deciding to trust your gut, you stepped down what seemed to be a quiet alleyway to take better stock of the situation around you and determine what was causing this unsettling feeling of observation. No, observation wasn’t the right word. The word that came to mind was stalked. Like something was hiding in the shadows and corner of your vision, keeping in step with you but never being revealed. You scanned the street you had just been walking through, trying to find whatever was causing this unease, this growing sense of danger —

And then you felt a large hand grasping your forearm like a steel trap, crushing your wrist as whoever this was pulled you further into the alley and into the seclusion that it offered.

Whirling around as your free hand having found its way into a fist, you intended to punch this unexpected attacker in the face; but before you could complete your movement, a grey and leathery hand grabbed your entire fist and wrenched it away, but maintaining a tight hold on your hand to restrain you. Looking up, you saw a terrifyingly familiar humanoid face.

Maxir Bragant had been a close companion and business partner of Orron Jakar, and you had spent more time around this Delphidian man than you ever cared to recall. He had been a frequent visitor to your shop, and the individuals who he dumped onto your cot for healing rarely survived due to his brutal and unyielding attacks. Being quite fond of cleaving into others with his axe, there was generally very little you could do to improve his victim’s odds of survival; you were no miracle worker, and you recalled how you had been beaten mercilessly for your failures. As you looked down to see that very same black axe strapped to his belt, you felt bile and fear rise up in your throat, not confident that you would be able to escape the crushing grasp of this towering man who now had both of your arms restrained.

His voice hissed out coldly, as his pitch-black eyes stared into yours with the same kind of fury and hatred that you had often seen echoed in Orron’s icy blue ones. “What a surprise to find you here,” he laughed, and the sound turned the very blood pumping through your veins to acid, to ice. He sneered at you, lips curling back to reveal the same ugly grin that showed up in your nightmares. “Figured you’d know better than to show up in a town like this. But, you were never a very bright one, were you?”

You bit your tongue, trying not to snap at that bait that he had flung out to you; you knew he wanted you to respond, wanted you to get mouthy, so he would have an excuse to discipline you, just as Orron once had. He wanted an interesting fight — you knew that he thrived on crushing the life out of a terrified and desperate soul, and you were not going to give that to him. You needed to ignore his jabs, verbal and physical, and focus on how to get yourself out of this situation, how to alert Din, or the Marshal, or any bystander who could offer you some sort of reinforcement against what was surely about to be a horribly painful and ugly fight.

Bragant used his leverage to pull you in closely to him, and you could smell the putrid odor of sweat and blood that radiated from him. It was nauseating and made your head feel dizzy, but you couldn’t let this get to you, couldn’t let this throw you off. From this positioning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to use your upper body to fight him off as he had your arms secured; making a quickly-calculated decision, you brought your knee up forcefully into his groin, and as he bent over in pain with a groan, he released one of your hands. Gods, was it satisfying to see this motherfucker writhing. Having some more leverage and momentum now, you kicked into his sternum forcefully, his massive body flying backwards into the stone wall behind him. You turned to run, willing your feet to move faster than the stars you had watched in hyperspace — but he recovered faster than you expected; you had only made it about four or five steps away when he wrapped his rough, scarred arm around your neck and brought your writhing, desperately fighting body up and into his, pressing his back into the wall to keep you out of sight.

“Stupid bitch,” he spit at you, and you could see the flecks of blood and saliva that landed in the dust around you, standing out in stark contrast to the dark volcanic ash. “Did you really think you’d get away with it, killing him?” You felt the cold and rough-hewn blade of his axe pressing into your chest, a jagged corner digging in just enough to make you gasp as it pierced your skin; the blade was pressed dangerously close to your heart, and you had seen the force with which he could swing his weapon.

“Still curious how the fuck you got out of there like you did, vanishing like that; but we’ll have plenty of time to ask questions when I bring you back home. There are a lot of people that have been missing you.”

You could sense the sick and cruel smile on his face as he pictured what would surely be a gruesome, horrific, and torturous death.

No. No, you were not going to go out that way. Not on his terms, not on Orron’s. Not like this.

You thought about the horrors that would await you if Bragant was able to bring you back to the cartel. You thought about the sickening fear and sadness that Din and Grogu would feel at your unplanned and unexplained departure. Thought about how Din would cut his way through each and every formidable cartel member trying to bring you back to him, to bring you back to safety, to bring you back home. Thought about how one man wouldn’t be enough to fight off an army, thought about how Din would die trying to bring you back, just as you had nearly died bringing him back on Bardotta.

Thought about how the love between the two of you would threaten to shatter the galaxy.

You thought about how Bragant had called the cartel home, and the anger that coursed through you felt as though it was moving through your very bloodstream, each desperate beat of your heart pushing that anger further and further into your body, fueling your muscles and your strength until it was threatening to burst forward from you like a seismic charge.

“Home?” You screeched, the words tearing their way through your throat with vitriol.

“Home?! You keep that word out of your goddamn fucking mouth!” You screamed forcefully, your voice echoing against the stone and clay walls; you heard a loud crack, and the wall that Bragant’s body was resting against collapsed in on itself.

This disruption and destruction caught Bragant by surprise, and he fell backwards into the pile of rubble that your anger alone had created, releasing you from his grasp in the process. Your chest was heaving as you inhaled deep lungfuls of air, feeling the oxygen feed more and more power to your body — you felt invincible, impossibly strong and powerful — and vengeful. Every violent revenge fantasy you had ever had came rushing back to you, as you saw the tidal wave of your abuser’s blood overtake the world around you.

Here was a man who had contributed to your pain and destruction, who had killed countless people with no mercy — and now, you didn’t have a single ounce of mercy to extend to him. And you were at peace with that.

A blinding hot, red wave of fury overtook your body, crashing around you and drowning out the fragile sense of humanity that was desperately clambering to stay afloat. It was as if you were possessed, as you watched your arm extend before you, muscles twitching beneath skin as your fingers pointed in Bragant’s direction, before your hand found itself curled into a tight fist. Your nails dug into the palm of your hand, and you could see redness dripping forth from it — and you saw Bragant’s writhing form being lifted from amongst the stones, until he was levitating in midair. His hands clawed desperately at his throat, and the sight of his now-bulging eyes filling with terror felt beautiful.

With a final, overwhelming rush of immense power, your wrist pulled your hand inwards to your body and you heard a nauseatingly satisfying crack reverberate through the alleyway as Bragant’s eyes went dark and his body went limp, collapsing onto the pile of rocks and clay beneath him with a dull thump.

Your head began to spin as the energy that had previously flowed through you was suddenly ripped away, and you felt as though every cell of your body was now collapsing in on itself in slow motion; the sky above you and the ground below you tumbled throughout your field of vision, spinning both together and apart as your body connected with the dusty floor of the alleyway.

You could vaguely see a blood red stain spreading in your field of vision. Whose blood was it?

Throughout all of the endless spinning and disorientation, your eyes eventually came to rest on one comforting and familiar sight — a tall figure clad in beskar rushed to your side, but you couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t feel the hands that you knew were on your body, couldn’t feel the shift in your form as you were hauled into his arms. Couldn’t feel the heavy breaths and terrified words that spilled around you, as your head lolled to the side in his arms. It felt as though the link between your mind and body had been snapped, like a harp string tuned too tightly, and as the universe continued to tumble through your field of vision, you closed your eyes tightly and prayed for it all to stop.

Stop. Stop.

Stop.

#Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #din djarin fanfiction #Din Djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader #Mandalorian fanfic #the space between

32 notes · View notes

simpsiren · 4 years ago

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dong sicheng x reader, ft, taeyong

“Your brain works like a computer, like clockwork. Yet you just can’t think straight because you’re thinking of her, right?”

description. I watched in pain as my best friend whom I liked for ages become delusional of my feelings and fall in love with another girl. I never told my feelings for him, and I never will. Little did I know that he felt the same as well. The feelings that took him so long to realise, now with hope that it wouldn’t be too late.

genre. aNgsT, fluff, friends au, unrequited love au

warnings. sad but also not a sad ending. depends how you look at it cudndjdn

word count. 9.2k~

a/n. do yall ever feel emo and suddenly want to write a sad ff? yes this is one of those times. i actually never wrote a ff where it was eXtrEmElY sad but oh wells let’s put you on an emotional roller coaster ride while you read this HAHA enjoy!

Dong Sicheng. Winwin as his nickname and what everyone, teachers and students, call him by. He’s smart, kind, sweet, and appearance wise you can never say no to that beautiful face. He’s an all rounder perfect student that everyone adores and admires. He’s extremely friendly, being able to socialise with everyone in the hallways right off the bat. I can confirm in my three years of high school that no one has never disliked him before.

The only thing that everyone dislike though is the fact that I’m his best friend. The only one that calls him by his real name, the one that can get close to him in terms of physical touch, and just have him by my side almost all the time. I received hate for being his best friend since they think he deserves better. But at this point, I really couldn’t care less, opting to stay quiet and accept the harsh words thrown at me with zero care for the world.

Since those insults are given to me when I’m away from Winwin, I never told him about what happens outside of his sight since I didn’t want him to be concerned for me and have him worry over a small matter. Things like this in high school are what I consider childish, which is why I try my best to ignore it as much as possible.

“Here. Another box of cookies and perfume. Also, a ton of love letters.” I said lazily, tossing the bag of gifts to Winwin’s lap and taking the seat beside him with a groan. I hated it when girls asked me to pass their gifts to Winwin because they’re too shy to do it themselves. It’s not like I’m some delivery girl in charge of taking care of their gifts. But I got used to it. Not sure if that’s exactly a good thing or not.

“You can have the cookies.” Winwin took out the box of cookies and handed it over to me. I took it and scoffed in amusement. “The price for the ingredients to make regular cookies is way more cheaper than buying it from wherever she got this.” I inspected the box and the cookies inside, noticing how expensive it looked with the decorations.

Regardless, I opened the box and picked up a cookie to take a bite. “Okay well it tastes good.” I said in defeat. Winwin wasted no time to grab a cookie and try it, instantly humming dreamily. “Oh wow it’s actual good.” Winwin moaned out as he finishes the cookie in his mouth.

“Being the school’s most adored student couldn’t get any more better, huh?” I reached into the bag of gifts and took out a random letter, twirling it around in my hand as I observed the aesthetics of it.

Winwin huffed, leaning back into the seat. “It’s tiring. I’m only down for the free food. And perfumes.” Winwin takes out the perfume, which I could already tell from its packaging that it was an expensive one. He unboxes it and squirts once to smell the fragrance in the air. He shrugged and shook his head. “Expected better. I’ll just sell this.”

I chuckled at his reaction, sniffing the scent that was in the air and nodding in agreement. “By the way...” Winwin suddenly started. I noticed his change in behaviour. He’s acting all shy and somewhat embarrassed, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers and feet. I raised at eyebrow at his unexpected mood change.

“You know the new student that got transferred four months ago?” I clicked my tongue and nodded. “Haeun, right? What about her?” I asked, though I wasn’t fully concentrated on the conversation because I couldn’t stop shoving the cookies into my mouth and admiring it’s savoury taste.

“Would it be weird to say I like her?”

I froze in my spot, a cookie halfway into my mouth as I tilted my head up from the cookies to look at Winwin. Though he was looking down to his feet, I could tell he was smiling to himself like an idiot and blushing intensively.

I knew where this was going. And I didn’t like it. It hurts my heart, like a needle constantly jabbing into my heart as the question that Winwin asked resonates in my head. Not receiving a reply, Winwin called out to me, making me shake my head and blinking my eyes rapidly to snap myself out of my thoughts.

“Um well, how’s she like?” I asked hesitantly. Why was I dumb enough to ask this? I’ll only be hurting myself more with the answer Winwin was about to give.

“She’s a badass. She’s strong, and she knows how to stand up to the students that bully her. I admire her a lot because she’s fearless. The way she can even fight back to the teacher and actually having valid arguments. She’s not like anyone else here.”

Of course she isn’t. She not at all like me either. I took a deep breath, knowing I’ve done a great job at stabbing myself in the back as I lump filled my throat, once again unable to give a single reaction of sentence. “You okay? You seem worked up suddenly.” Winwin suddenly got closer and I quickly inched back.

I felt my body getting tensed up as my face gave a blank expression. I wasn’t sure what to feel. Anger, sadness, heart fluttering due to Winwin’s small action of getting close to my face. Maybe all three.

“You do remember what happened the other times you have liked a girl, right? You know they didn’t end well. I don’t see why you’re still trying.”

That, was the only excuse I could come up with to have Winwin not having any interest in other girls. Before high school, he’s liked plenty of girls. But they’ve all rejected him, causing him to come to me for comfort. It hurt my heart, seeing that I’m the one that has to watch him go through a heartbreak and being the hopeless romantic he was. It also pained me in a way that I couldn’t describe.

If only you were mine, you wouldn’t have gone through any of that.

“What if someone else liked you? What would you do?” Winwin tilted his head upwards with a finger on his chin for a moment as he stopped to think. He had an unreadable expression on his face, only making me wonder what he would reply.

“Depends on who.” Winwin simply replied.

“What if that someone is really close to you?” His forehead creased with raised brows, probably either curious as to why I’m asking such questions or trying to figure out where this conversation is heading.

“The only ones I’m close to are you and Yuta.” A few seconds later, Winwin gaped his mouth open and covered it with the palm of his hand, letting out a shocking gasp. “Is Yuta gay?!” Winwin burst out laughing crazily, smacking his thigh as he had a hand on his stomach.

I could only sit there with an unamused face. I glanced sideways and forced a smile. A simpered smile that would best hide what I truly felt. I rose from my seat with the box of cookies in hand. “I meant the other person, Dong Sicheng.” I looked straight into his eyes with a face of seriousness. Though I doubt Winwin understood what I meant by that.

Not being able to handle this any longer, I walked away, despite Winwin calling out my name multiple times. I walked till I hid behind a wall where it was out of Winwim’s sight, beginning to slide my back down the wall till I hit the ground, my eyes starting to get flooded with tears till they finally stream down my face. I brought my knees close to my chest with the box of cookis in between and hiding my face with my arms.

How long do I have to keep this up? How long do I have to wait till Winwin realises my feelings for him? All this time while he went through constant heartbreaks, I was the only one there for him. Me. I had to watch him cry days on end all because of a girl who doesn’t even mean much.

And now I have to watch him go through it again. But I can’t stop him. It’s his feelings. Despite my constant share of concerns for him, he never seemed to stop being the stupid one in love. Dong Sicheng was, and always will be, a hopeless romantic.

But in a way, I was as well. Not being able to let go of my feelings for him that has kept me tied down for so long. I liked him for years and I knew my love was more than what the girls he liked before could offer. If only he could just see that. But waiting for that moment slowly began to get tiring.

I wondered where Winwin has gone to as I laid on the living room couch with my phone held in the air showing Winwin’s contact on the screen. I contemplated on whether I should call him or not.

There have been days where Winwin would come back to our apartment late, but it’s either because he had family events (which happens quite often in Winwin’s case) or just an outing with Yuta. But I would have known the reason either way since he’d always update me whenever he went. It felt out of place to not know where he was and it made me a little worried.

As I was about to press on the call button, I heard the front door open. Lifting my head from the couch, I turned around and saw Winwin taking off his shoes and walking in. “Where the heck have you been, you dork?!” I shouted, throwing a pillow from under my head.

He got hit by it, resulting him to frown and let out a wince due to his overreacting nature. “Chill I just went out of Haeun, alright?” Winwin picked up the pillow from the ground and tossed it back to me.

I didn’t even bother asking why he went out with her. I didn’t want to hear about it either, knowing that my emotional feelings for him that I’ve tried to hide for so long will start to flare up. Regardless, Winwin ran over to me and pushed my legs off fhe couch to give him space to sit. I groaned at his act and sat up straight.

“Today was so fun! I went to the amusement park with Haeun and holy shit was she good at winning games but I wasn’t able to win any for her and I felt bad so we...”

As Winwin rambled on about his amazingly perfect night out with Haeun, I spaced out and could only think about what I have to deal with once Haeun leaves Winwin again. Though now I’m starting to doubt that because well, who wouldn’t want Winwin? He had a major glow up from elementary school to high school anyways.

But now my mind has wondered off to the possibility that I might actually lose Winwin once he gets together with her. And how the feelings that I’ve kept solely for him would go to waste and my times of waiting on him would mean nothing.

“Good that you had fun. I’ll go to bed now.” I said in monotoned manner when Winwin finally stopped talking.

“Oh um okay... goodnight. Sleep tight. Dream of me, alright?” He probably noticed my sudden change in attitude but didn’t bother asking, and instead tried to lighten the mood with a little joke.

“I always dream of you.” I mumbled under my breath as I walked away and entered my room.

Little did I know, my soft mumble wasn’t as soft as it seemed.

“Why did she sound serious when she said that?” Winwin asked himself as he sat there in silence. He started to think about her weird behaviour these days. Especially whenever he brought up about Haeun. Was there something wrong with talking about Haeun? Why did she look like all the energy was drained out of her whenever he spoke Haeun’s name?

Winwin’s deep thoughts got cut off when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He took it out to see a notification from Haeun asking if they should go out more often. He didn’t bother to reply as his mind was only filled with his best friend, deeply concerned but also anxious.

“What am I feeling right now?”

Yuta and I decided to eat lunch together since Winwin’s chemistry teacher held his class back for a reason that he never specified.

Our conversation was going well till somehow our topic swerved into talking about Winwin.

“I heard Winwin’s going out with Haeun more often, and ditching you too.” Yuta suddenly mentioned, taking a sip of his lemon tea.

I suspired and nodded my head. “Yeah well, I’m not too happy about that.” I swirled my straw in my drink, getting mesmerised at the sight. “Of course you don’t. You like him.”

My eyes immediately shot up to Yuta’s, narrowing my eyes in an intimidating manner as I whispered, “Don’t mention it, please. It already hurts enough that it’s a fact.” I said, my eyes softening right after as I frowned.

“You still aren’t giving me a proper answer as to why you can’t tell him.” Yuta bobbed his shoulders, adjusting his blazer. “I told you time and time again.”

I groaned, covering my eyes with a hand. “He’s my best friend. You know how weird it’ll be if we have feelings for each other. Secondly, even if he does like me back, how will things turn out between us if we argue or something? It’s worse for you because you’re friends with the both of us.” I explained, making random hand gestures like you would do in a presentation.

“But still. It’s important to be friends before lovers. Better yet best friends to lovers. You’re basically saying that a male and female can’t be friends without one of them falling in love. Well. I mean you fell in love but-”

“But what, huh?”

Yuta let out a deep sigh before leaning in, resting his chin on his hands with his fingers interlocked together. “But that doesn’t explain you and me. We’re friends but we’ve never fell in love.” Yuta gave a cheeky smile. I growled and smacked his forehead, hard. “What it’s the truth! Anyways, if you aren’t going to anything about Sicheng, I will.”

As soon as he said those words, I wasted no time to loom over the table to grab him by the collar. “Do anything, and you’ll get brutally killed.”

Yuta simpered, knowing he fucked up as he laughed in fear. “W-with what?” Yuta asked hesitantly. I slowly picked up the fork from my tray and raising it beside my head.

“This fork.” This time, Yuta laughed hysterically, removing my hand away from his collar and throwing me back down to me seat. I let out a huff, slamming the fork back on the plate. “Which body part do you want to hit with a fork, sweetie?” Yuta teased.

I threw him a sharp glare with a line appearing between my brows. “I’ll carve out your eyeballs first so you’ll never see the light of day.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, finding Yuta shaking in fear as he waved his hands in the air in defense. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up. Jeez...”

“I just want him to realise my feelings himself. Have you seen what he’s gone through? I have to deal with his stupid feelings while I have to bear the fact that he won’t see me as anything more than a best friend. His delusional ass that I can’t stop falling for...” I continued.

“I’m more stupid in this situation than him if we’re going to be honest.”

Later that day, Yuta and I invited Winwin to go out and have dinner. We were waiting in front of the restaurant only to be greeted with Winwin and a somewhat unwanted guest.

“Oh! Haha it’s Haeun...” Yuta waved a hand to her. She greeted him back with a gentle smile that could possibly mesmerised anyone if she wanted to. Yuta took a quick glance at me. I was pretty sure we were both thinking the same thing. About how I’m not liking the fact that she’s here with Winwin. He brought his hand to my back and rubbed it gently as a sign of comfort.

Don’t get me wrong. I hold no hatred or grudge towards her. It’s just that I didn’t want to see Winwin with another girl. Clearly, I was jealous. I was just too weary of Winwin’s feelings and mine to own up to it.

“Let’s go in then?” She asked excitedly, looking up to Winwin as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. Winwin smiled back and patted her on the head. I was already not liking how physically close they were.

Little actions like patting the head, hugging, ruffling the hair. Those were all actions that only Winwin has ever done to me. He wouldn’t even be this close to the girls that he used to like. Seeing that he’s now becoming more open, it made me disappointed a lot more than it should due to the deep stupid meaning I hold of the little things he does.

Our conversations while we were eating were quite general. Most questions were about Haeun and getting to know her better. Well, more specifically it was Yuta since I’m pretty sure Winwin already knew a lot about her. As for me, I didn’t bother.

“You should try this. It’s delicious.” Haeun suddenly said, picking up a drumstick of the chicken that was just served to us and bringing it to Winwin’s mouth. Haeun placed a finger in Winwin’s chin to bring his head closer. With Winwin opening his mouth widely, Haeun feeds him with the most brightest smile.

“You’re so cute.” I heard Winwin whisper as he leaned down to Haeun’s ear. She giggled with glee and nudged him in the shoulder. It was obvious that she was liking it. Her blushing couldn’t get any more serious.

He hummed in satisfaction as he chewed on the chicken. “You should try it, too.” Winwin said, passing me a drumstick and putting it on my plate. I forced a smile, which turned out to me only giving a half-smile due to my effort of trying to hide my feelings slowly becoming drained.

Seeing how Yuta kept stealing glances at me, I could only assume that he knew what I was feeling when he suddenly said, “Actually it seems like she’s getting tired. I’ll see her off. You guys have fun.” Yuta swung an arm around my shoulder as the two of us stood up and grabbed our belongings before heading out and leaving the two to hang out by themselves.

“You didn’t have to do that...” I whispered, looking into my bag and checking if I left anything behind. Yuta shook his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I had to. It was hard to watch you die inside while they were being all lovey-dovey.” Yuta replied.

“Anyways, can you go home yourself?” I gaped my mouth and scoffed, glancing sideway before looking up to him with a raised brow. “You brought me out here but you can’t be a gentleman and send me home!?” I hissed.

“The food inside was actually good and I’m willing to finish whatever’s on my plate!” Yuta retorted with a cute pout as a way to persuade me to follow his way. With the unamused face I gave him, he huffed and ran a hand through his hair.

As though a lightbulb was suddenly lif above his head, he snapped his fingers and shouted, “Ahah!” making me flinch back at the sudden noise. “I’ll text Taeyong to drive you home on his motorbike.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, but shrugged in the end as I admitted it was a good idea. “Yeah sure. I find him cute.” I said plainly, which somehow earned me a weird look from Yuta.

“You called him cute?” Yuta asked in a way that told me that he was surprised. I nodded my head slowly, not sure about why he reacted that way but I was quick to figure it out. “Don’t be an idiot and assume I like him. Everyone finds him cute, okay? It’s like how fangirls call their idols cute all the time. It means nothing.” I said with a sigh.

Yuta’s surprised face slowly turned into a sinister one as his mouth formed a wide smirk. “Hey. Honestly speaking, if you can’t have Winwin, You should try Taeyong. He’s a good catch.” Yuta winked at me before looking down to this phone and texting Taeyong.

I smacked him in the arm, making him wince in pain but recovered in no time due to his endurace of me beating him up almost all the time. “You think my three years of affection for Winwin will just magically go away if I liked him? Don’t be ridiculous, will you?” I let out a ‘tsk’ as I threw him a death glare.

“You never know, sweetie.” Yuta breathed out, putting his phone away and getting close to me. “He’s coming in ten minutes so I’ll go now, okay? Text me when you get home.” Yuta gave a heartwarming smile as he reached both his hands out to rub my shoulders before bidding his last goodbye and going back in.

I scratched my head as I sat down at one of the benches near the entrance while I waited for Taeyong. I soon saw the motorbike that looked familiar since it was always parked at the parking lot at school, knowing it was him.

Taeyong stopped in front of me and lifted the shield of his helmet, revealing his face. He stepped down from his bike and headed to the trunk to take out a spare helmet. I walked up to him with a soft smile.

“Thanks for wanting to send me home. I would’ve gone myself.” I said as I took the helmet that Taeyong handed out to me. “It’s fine. I was pretty free and wanted to go out for a bit.” Taeyong smiled back with a light shrug.

“By the way...” I let out while adjusting my helmet. “Hm?” Taeyong asked.

“Can you take me to an ice cream shop? Any will do. I just need to eat something sweet right now.”

Taeyong got on his back and tapped the seat behind him to signal me to get on as he started up his motorbike. “Sure. I have a place in mind.”

I hopped on as I thought we were about to head off, Taeyong turned his head back to look at me. “You should place your hands on my shoulder. If it’s uncomfortable for you, just hold onto the handles beside you. Just... make sure you have something to grip on.”

I looked down to one of my sides to find the handle that Taeyong mentioned but there’s wasn’t any. I didn’t bother asking and made the quick decision if placing my hands on his shoulders to not keep him waiting. He finally puts down the shield of his helmet as we drove off.

Taeyong ended up taking me to an ice cream shop that was opened for twenty four hours. Which I was thankful for since it meant that there’s an ice cream shop I could go to at four in the morning in case I was in my feels one night.

I ordered two scoops of cookie dough while Taeyong ordered three scoops of cookies and cream. We had to sit at the roadside since the shop didn’t provide anywhere to sit. But I was fully fine with it since I wanted to feel the night air as well as look at the night sky.

We both ate in silence till I fed myself a bite and stuck my spoon into the ice cream, looking up to the sky and closing my eyes for moment.

“Are you on your period, perhaps?” Taeyong suddenly asked. I opened my eyes and tilted my head back down to look at him, shaking my head. “Why’d you think that?”

“I know that most girls have cravings that kick in at random times of the day during their periods. I also know girls crave sweet things too.” I chuckled at his response, nodding my head in agreement. “You’re right about the craving thing. But I’m not on my period.”

I paused for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “It’s more of eating something sweet to wash down all the bitter feelings that build up in my throat.” I whispered, grabbing my spoon to take another bite.

Taeyong clicked his tongue and nodded his head slowly. “Do you mind me asking why? I-If it’s too personal you don’t have to-“

“What would you do if you liked a girl who’s your best friend for three years but she ended up liking someone else?” I cut him off, tilting my head to the side.

Taeyong looked up to stop and think. “I’ll probably do something to lose my feelings for her. I wouldn’t want to make myself suffer by keeping my feelings depite me knowing she won’t except it.”

“You know like move on. If I liked a girl for three years, I’ll probably take a long time to let go but maybe with the help of meeting new people and distancing myself away from her, I’ll eventually forget about her.” Taeyong added.

As I listened to his advice, I understood what he meant. Why do I burden myself with such feelings? It’s like I’ve been trapped in a cage due to the unrequited love I have for Winwin. Why make myself suffer any longer?

“That’s true... I probably should- I-I mean a friend asked me- Oh who am I kidding I’m asking you this for my sake.” I let out a sigh in defeat, stabbing my spoon into the ice cream before aggressively taking another bite.

“Let’s play some music. It’ll lighten the mood up a little.” Taeyong said with a warm smile, noticing my somber aura and wanting to do something about it.

He opened his phone as he scrolled through his playlist to find a song. “I really like this song so if I suddenly burst out dancing stupidly, don’t make fun of me.” I chuckled before nodding my head, eagerly as I was curious about the song he wanted to play. “I’m not judgy I promise.”

While the spoon that was filled with ice cream was being brough up to my lips, the song started playing and I quickly took a bite before swallong and gaping my mouth open as I instantly recognised the intro.

“Roses by Finn Askew?!” I asked with excitement. Taeyong nodded his head happily as he began to sing the lyrics, bringing his hands up and vibing to the music.

I laughed as I watched him sing and have fun. I decided to let go and sing as well, grooving my body as I finished my last spoon of ice cream.

Throughout the whole song, the two of us didn’t stop dancing in our seats. I constantly laughed at the weird movements and actions he did while we nodded our heads to the soothing music that we both loved.

Taeyong’s singing talent also shined through as he sang the song. I was definitely impressed by how much of a good singer he was. “I didn’t know you could sing like that, Taeyong.” I complimented as another song began to play in the background.

“It’s just a hidden talent most people don’t know. But I’m more to rapping.” Taeyong said with a shrug, placing his now empty cup beside him.

“Actually you’re one of the few people that know I rap.” Taeyong added.

I giggled in response. “I’m honoured to be one of the lucky few. Send me an audio of you rapping sometime. I’d love to hear it.” Taeyong chuckled lowly.

I quicly glance at my phone to check the time. I realised it was getting late and that I shouldn’t be out any longer. I looked at Taeyong, wanting to ask if he could take me home.

He turned to me and gave me a smile. A smile that I was suddenly to drawn into. The way his eyes formed a thin line as his lips curled up. He looked perfect and could make anyone swoon. He was cute.

“I know it’s getting late but can we just stay here a little while longer? I’m trying to savour this atmosphere.” I whispered.

Taeyong nodded and handed me his phone out of the blue. I raised an eyebrow at his sudden action. “Play any song you want. We can stay here as long as you want to.” Taeyong said in a gentle voice.

With that, I spent at least a few hours just sitting at the roadside with Taeyong as I swayed my head to peaceful songs that fit the mood. Taeyong was kind enough to let me play whatever song I liked even though I know there’s a few he wouldn’t know. Surprisingly, Taeyong and I had the same taste in music, which made us talk sbout our favourite artists etc.

I realised how quickly I got to know Taeyong. In a matter of a few hours, it felt like I instantly clicksd with him and I somehow felt as though I’ve known him for a long time. This feeling with Taeyong was refreshing and new. I liked it without a doubt.

Once we decided it was actually getting late, we called it a nighy and have Taeyong drive me home. When we arrived at my apartment, I got off and took off the helmet, passing it to Taeyong as he got off his motorbike as well to put the helmet back in the trunk.

“It was nice hanging out with you. I actually had fun for the first time in a long time.” I said after Taeyong closed the lid of the trunk and turned to me.

“Just call me if you need more ice cream.” Taeyong winked playfully. I took my phone out for him to put his number in. Once that was done, I stood in front of Taeyong, wanting to wait for him to drive off but he didn’t seem to move, leaning back against the motorbike.

“Aren’t you going to go?” I asked.

“I’m waiting for you to head inside so I know you got home safely.” Taeyong mentioned casually.

I chuckled and shook my head, nodding before making my way to the entrance. I turned around and flashed him one last smile and a small wave before heading in.

“Oi! Why the fuck are you home so late?! Did you know how worried I was?! Yuta told me Taeyong was going to send you home!” Damn, I just had to come home with Winwin shouting at me.

“I went out with him for a bit! And can you shut up it’s late at night and you’ll wake up the neighbours.”

I made my way to my room only to have Winwin following behind me and entering as well. “You shouldn’t be staying out late with a guy you barely know. Who knows what could happen to you?”

I took out my belongings from my sling bag and hung it behind my door, scoffing loudly.

“Oh so now you’re worrying? I bet you were out with Haeun and came home late as well.” I fought back.

“I came home earlier than you.”

“Taeyong is Yuta’s friend. And I do know him. So shut it and get out of my face. I’m tired.” I lashed out, pushing Winwin out of my room and slamming the door shut.

I plopped myself onto my bed as I took in the comfort of laying down on the most comfortable space I’ll ever know.

As I played with my phone, I suddenly got a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number: hey it’s Taeyong. you dont have to reply since i bet you’ll be sleeping by now but hope you made it home safely.

I let out an “Ah...” now knowing this was Taeyong’s number and saving it into my contacts.

Y/n: oMg chIlL i got home just fine thanks to you. hope you made it home safe as well

the ice cream man: i did, dont worry. i hope i got to get rid of any bitter feelings you had. goodnight :)

I left him on seen as I placed my phone screen down beside me and looked up the ceiling.

The night I spent with Taeyong somehow felt, magical. Like Cinderella at the ball. I had a lot of fun with him and I was able to let myself be free. Surprisingly, Winwin wasn’t on my mind for a second while I was with Taeyong. I only wished to continue being Cinderella for more than one night as I craved to hang out with Taeyong.

But also, the advice that Taeyong gave me continuously resonated in my head.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let go after all.

On the very same night, Winwin had to face his feelings as well.

“What’s your real reason for going out with Haeun?” Yuta asked as he walked to the living room where Winwin was at and taking a seat beside him. Winwin took a sip of water from the cups that Yuta brought from the kitchen. “Because I like her.”

“Now’s not the time to fuck with me, Winwin. I know it’s something else.”

Winwin exhaled sharply and fighting back with a, “What else is there? I like Haeun, so I asked her out.” Yuta scoffed and slammed his cup down on the table, his eyes narrowed down to Winwin.

“How long are you going to keep this up? What are you trying to do? Hide your feelings? Use Haeun to distract yourself from her? How low can you get?”

Winwin took in a deep breath and rubbed one hand down his face in frustration. “I told you. I like her as a friend.”

“No.” Yuta replied instantly with a stern tone. “You think I don’t know you? You don’t think I see you staring at her during class? Or that one time where you ranted to me about how she went out with a group of guys from our class.” Yuta got closer to Winwin and he wasn’t fazed at all, determined to maintain this eyecontact that was filled to the brim with tension.

“So? It’s because I care for her. Are friends not suppose to do that?” Winwin retorted back, leaning in as he bored his eyes into Yuta’s.

“She’s right. You really are delusional. I don’t know why I bothered trying.” Yuta downed the rest of his drink and stood up, placing the cup on the table. “Well, she told me I should just make you realise it yourself.” Yuta bent down to meet Winwin’s eye level.

“And you better pray that by the time you do, it won’t be too late.”

With that, Yuta grabbed his belongings and headed to the door, exiting and slamming the door shut. Winwin blinked his eyes a few times and stared at the door.

To be honest, Winwin didn’t understand what just happened. A lot of questions popped up in his mind after Yuta left. What did he meant by delusional? What was he delusional about? What did he have to realise for himself? And what did she have to do with all this?

The longer he sat there in deep thought with analysing everything that Yuta said, Yuta was right in some way. The fact that he gets concerned for her with whatever action she did, but ended up not doing anything about it. He stared at her in class to make sure she wouldn’t fall asleep. He was overprotective about her being around guys because he didn’t want guy to be with her but himself and Yuta. The problem is, why did Yuta talked to him about it as if it was something else? Isn’t this what you do with your friends?

Winwin’s eyes immediately darted back to the front door where he heard the shuffling of footsteps coming. He knew it was her. The moment she opened the door, one last questioned surfaced in his mind.

“What’s too late?”

Little by little, one ice cream date at a time, I began to get a lot more closer to Taeyong. He never lets down an ice cream date and everytime I was with him, he gave me a place where I could go away from my sufferings of my complex love situation. It was as if he gave me a way to escape. Just by being with him, I felt that I didn’t need to suffer.

Our ice cream dates evolved into doing other things like exploring the city, or trying out restaurants we’ve never been to before. To be honest, I would do anything if it meant being with Taeyong. He really was like my very own escape world, where I could run away from the only problem I’m currently facing. Which was Winwin.

Since our exams were coming up, our dates naturally became centered around studying. Today was no different, going to the study cafe that we’ve been to a couple of times.

We decided to sit at the corner of the cafe so that we’ll be able to concentrate better. Me being the relatively smarter one, I had to tutor Taeyong. It was a good thing that he wasn’t one to slack on his studies. He’s avarage in terms of academics but he was willing to try and get better. It made it easy for me to tutor him since he would try his best to understand and stay attentive.

Though, I couldn’t help but notice him stealing quick glances of me whenever I wasn’t looking at him. Does he perhaps like me or something?

“I want coffee.” Taeyong groaned out, pouting cutely in front of me as he desperately asked for a break. I chuckled at his adorable nature and ruffled his hair. “A fifteen minute break, alright? I’ll buy you coffee.”

I was about to stand up from my seat when Taeyong gripped onto my wrist and sat me back down. “I’ll do it myself. Do you want your favourite drink?” I smiled and nodded my head eagerly.

Taeyong rose from his seat. Before he walked off, he bent down and placed a quick peck on my cheek and ran off in a matter of seconds. Taeyong turned around and flashed his cheeky playful smile with mouthing, “That was intentional.”

I giggled and waved a hand in the air, signalling him to turn to the cashier who was waiting for him to order. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel something after that small kiss.

Over time as our friendship grew, Taeyong became more affectionate towards me. He was a natural at it. Without me knowing, he ended up holding hands and giving each other kisses on the cheek of forehead. It made my heart race every time and he would tease me whenever I blushed. Of course I did the same to him.

A little while later he came back with the drinks, placing them on the table before taking his seat next to me.

We resumed studying till I heard the bell above the door rang, signalling that someone has came in. I didn’t really care about it as the music from Taeyong’s phone played on one side of the earpiece that I wore was loud. I then however heard a very familiar voice.

Looking up, I saw Winwin and Haeun standing by the counter to order. With creases formed on my forehead with eyes that were glued to the two of them, Taeyong noticed my expression and looked at where my gaze was at. “I’m assuming that’s the guy you like for three years?” I nodded with a defeated sigh.

“We can go if you want. I’m afraid it’ll distract you.” Taeyong whispered. Right as I was about to reply, Winwin and Haeun turned around with their drinks as they tried finding a seat. While Winwin’s eyes scanned through the area, he made eye contact with me, causing him to give a confused look until Haeun went up to kiss his cheek and urging him to sit at the spot she found for them.

I bowed my head to greet him while Winwin did the same. I turned back to Taeyong after that awkward encounter. “It’s fine. It’ll be a hassle for us to waste time to go somewhere else.” Taeyong shrugged and nodded his head, resuming to look at the question in front of him.

We were studying for quite some time and I started to feel my adrenaline to continue studying slowly disappearing. With my chin on the palm of my hand, I tried to close my eyes to let them rest for a moment while letting out a tired sigh. Suddenly, I felt Taeyong’s hand guiding my head to rest on his shoulder.

I moved my head around to try and find a comfortable position, which ended up with my head being buried in the crook of Taeyong’s neck. I sniffed the strong scent of his perfume that I oh so adore. “You always smell good.” I complimented.

Taeyong chuckled in response. “I’ll continue to smell good if it means that you’ll rest your head on me more.” I tilted my head up with my chin still resting on his shoulder as I looked up. Taeyong brought his head down to make eye contact with me, leaning in slowly and kissing my forehead ever so gently.

“Go sleep. You need some rest.” With a hand slowly snaking around my waist, I got comfortable with Taeyong’s embrace. Before I closed my eyes, I absentmindedly looked towards where Winwin was sitting. For some reason, he gave me a look of anger, with a tensed body and clenched fist on the table and eyes lit with fire. It disappeared almost instantly when Haeun called out to him, forcing him to look back at her with a wide grin.

What the fuck was she doing with Taeyong? When has she gotten so clingy with him? How are they that close in the span of a few months? Questions like these circled Winwin’s mind throughout the time he was at the study cafe with Haeun.

Oddly, he couldn’t get his eyes and mind off her and Taeyong. He observed their very move closely. He felt like raging every time Taeyong even placed a finger on her. You could imagine how Winwin felt when Taeyong had his arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder.

She said they were just friends. But Winwin couldn’t believe that claim at all. Friends are not so touchy like this, right? As much as he wanted to agree to that question, he couldn’t. Because that’s what he’s been doing with her as well. Being physically close while still being friends. He just never imagined she’d do it with someone else.

Winwin knew for a fact that what he was feeling was pure jealousy. It shocked him due to how mad he could get at this.

After his study session with Haeun, he went straight back home. Realising you weren’t there, he assumed you went out with Taeyong again. He rushed into his room and threw himself onto his bed, placing a pillow over his face and screaming into it.

Winwin threw the pillow beside him and huffed, looking up at the ceiling. Once again he was deep in thought as he stared at the ceiling. This time, he was fighting a war in his head as he tried his best not to admit his feelings. The pride he held to deny it. But he couldn’t hold on anymore. Allowing his wall to crumble down as he came face to face with his true feelings. He decided to call Yuta to ask for help.

The moment Yuta picked up the phone, Winwin said, “Okay you’re right. I can’t beat around the fucking bush anymore. I like her. I like her a lot. I denied my feelings for her because I didn’t want our friendship to be at risk. I only used Haeun to get over her but I can’t. She’s on my mind even though I’m with Haeun.”

It took awhile for him to hear an answer from the other end of the line, only silence and breathing could be heard till Yuta responded with a, “Tell her that once you get into college. Right now, she’s probably studying hard for the high school leaving examinations. It would be best to stay out of her way and focus on your studies.” With that, Yuta hung up.

Winwin was left with his thoughts, unable to sleep till three in the morning because all he could think about was her. Whatever Yuta said the other day now made sense. She’s liked him for so long but she never confessed. He realised how dumb and delusional he was to not see that someone liked him right under his nose but he didn’t know it, brushing it off like it meant nothing because he didn’t want to admit his feelings for her. Fuck his pride and delusional ass.

As the days of the exams are coming closer than ever, Winwin tried his best to stay focus and study to the best of his abilities. Though he still couldn’t get her off his mind. It wasn’t the main thing he thought about but it was always hidden in the folds of his thoughts. It sometimes made him malfunction a little as well.

“Sicheng are you serious?! This is basic shit I thought you know about this!” Yuta scolded as he tapped in pen on the table and pointed to the question that Winwin answered incorrectly. Yuta sighed and covered his eyes with a hand for a moment before turning to Winwin.

“You aren’t working right today. You good, bro?” Yuta asked with concern. Winwin frowned and ran a hand down his face. “Is it that bad?”

Yuta clicked his tongue and places his pen down, leaning against the table.

“You’re one of the smartest students. Your brain works like a computer, like clockwork. Yet you just can’t seem to think straight because you’re thinking of her, right?”

It took awhile for Winwin to answer before he nodded slowly and gulping. “I can’t do anytning about it now. I don’t want to disrupt her studies. It’s fucking killing me...” Winwin laid his head on the table and covered himself with his arms, earning a big smack in the back by Yuta that made him jolted back up.

“Let’s forget it for awhile. Stay focus. We need to get into college, alright? Come on, let’s get something to drink before continuing.”

A year later.

I finally made it through your high school leaving examination and got accepted into the college I signed up for. Surpringly, Taeyong made it as well. Despite us having different majors, we did share a common elective for History.

“Today’s class was fun.” I said sarcastically, waving my hands in the air lazily. Taeyong laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Very.” He commented.

Today we decided to stay back and hang out in the music studio where the music majors use to record their singing etc. Taeyong promised me to play me one of the new songs he wrote.

The studio was located on the first floor of the campus and it was near the entrance as well. Basically the window of the studio showed fhe streets and people could walk by and see whoever’s inside. Well, only if they bent because the window is half the size of a regular one due to the studio being a little lower than ground floor.

We chilled in there for awhile. With me laying on Taeyong’s lap while the two of us were on our phones. I got bored of reading the news on twitter so I turned off my put and looked out at Taeyong. “Play your song now!” I whined. He immediately placed his phone away and looked down on me.

“Okay, okay chill!” Taeyong shouted out, leaning in to kiss my forehead. I got off his lap and allowed him to set up to play his new song.

He got inside the recording booth and told me to sit down and wear the headphones. I followed his instructions, though I was confused when he told me to press a button that would play the song but I got around that.

“Can you hear me?” Taeyong asked, placing his mouth near the microphone in front of him. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up, proceeding to press the button that would start the song.

The first few beats of the song already got my hyped up as I began to nod my head to the music while looking at Taeyong while a bright smile. He smiled back before starting to rap. I was intrigued instantly and started vibing to his voice.

As the continued on with the song, I couldn’t help myself but stand up to dance. He saw me dancing and looked to me while he sang into the microphone, starting to move to the beat as well.

I laughed happily as I started to make weird movements which triggered Taeyong to fall off his rhythm a little and laugh, picking up right where he left off soon after.

Absentmindedly, I glanced sideways to the window and saw a pair of legs facing towards the window. Like I said, since the studio was a little lower than ground floor, the window only showed a small portion of the streets.

To see a pair of legs there was weird. Whoever it was, they stayed there for quite some time since I didn’t see them leave until Taeyong finished the song.

Taeyong took off the headphones he had on and got out of the recording booth. “So how was that?”

I immediately ran up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close and placing a warm peck on his lips. “Perfect as usual, Mister Lee Taeyong.” I ran a hand through his hair and giggled with glee.

Winwin’s POV.

I stood there as I heard her laugh. The unique signature laugh that I once used to hear everyday. The one that never failed to brighten my day no matter the situation. The familiarity of it brought me home, but at the same time it brought a different feeling. A hurtful one that made my heart ache. To know that the one that made her laugh wasn’t me.

I couldn’t stop regretting not telling her how I feel. I planned to tell her after the exams, but life moved too quickly for the two of us and we eventually went our separate ways. A year now has passed as I still held my feelings for her close to my heart. I understood how she felt now. Not being able to tell her how I feel for a whole year. How did she survive liking me with an additional two years.

I know I can’t have her back. She was able to let go of me and be together with someone that made her happy instead of the burden I made her go through. But at the very least, I hope to make her happy one last time before I disappear from her sight forever.

One night, I received a text from Winwin. Of course I still had his number because I didn’t see a reason to delete it. We naturally went our separate ways due to college and all. The text said to meet him at the big tree beside our high school. I found it odd. Considering how it was ten in the night. I figured maybe he needed someone to talk to in person.

“Sicheng!” I called out to him, waving my hand up in the air slightly. Winwin waved back as I took a seat next to him. “What’d you call me out here for? It’s pretty late as well.” I glanced at the time on my phone before looking to Winwin.

“I asked you to come because I have something to tell you.” Winwin said, looking down and fidgeting with his thumbs. I grew nervous as I didn’t know what to expect.

“Um... What is it?” I asked hesitantly, tilting my head slightly to look at his face that he hid by looking down.

After a moment of silence, he finally cleared his throat as looked up, staring deep into my eyes.

“I liked you.” He whispered.

Did I hear that correctly? I couldn’t have, right?

“I really did. I liked you.” Winwin repeated himself when he realised he didn’t get a reponse.

I gulped as I could only stare back in disbelief. The words I wanted to hear for years. Why did I feel different from the way I expected to react from it.

I sighed, licking my bottom lip. “It’s been so long, Sicheng. Saying it now... I don’t feel anything from it anymore.” I replied reluctantly.

“I know. I just felt the need to tell you. You’re happy with Taeyong. I understand that.”

Another moment of silence (longer silence this time) filled the air. The two of us looked up into the sky, getting lost in its darkness.

“Just wanted you to know that I did like you back in high school. I was just dumb to realise it myself.” Winwin added on with a soft laugh. The hurtful kind of laugh.

I punched him lightly in the arm, making him look at me with a surprised face. “You really were.” I whispered.

“I actually got a dance gig at America.”

I widened my eyes as my mouth gaped open slightly. “Really?!” I gasped. He nodded.

“It also meant that I’m moving to America in a few days.” Winwin glanced sideway before sighing.

I placed a hand on his back, rubbing it up and down slowly. “You’ll do great there. I’ll keep in contact.”

“I’m happy I get to tell you about my feelings and talk to you before I go.”

I reached my arms out and pulled him into a hug. I suddenly hear him sobbing into my shirt, damping it a little as his sobs were muffled. I brought my hand up to his hair, caressing it gently.

“I’m happy I got to love you for once in my life. Despite it being tiring, it did make me who I am today.”

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