#it was IMPOSSIBLE to pick a teaser

[haleswallows]

Mourning ‘til Dawn Fandom: DCxDP Teen (minor descriptions of injuries, vivisection, off-screen deaths) For the @dpxdcbigbang Inspired by a prompt by tourettesdog where Agent O is a GIW whistleblower.

Arc 2: Healing now live!

Teaser:

Diana holds Danny’s hand between her palms. He lets out a shuddering breath and she bows her head until their hands are pressed to her forehead. From the outside, it looks as if they are posed in prayer.

It isn’t too far from the truth. Diana begs favor from her patron gods. Begs for relief, begs for rest. “Would you like some more ice, brave one?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up. Why does this suck so much? Ecto-Dejecto never made me sick like this before.”

Diana hums, taps a slow rhythm against the back of Danny’s hand. To give him something to concentrate on. “How about a few crackers?” Danny makes a retching sound and smiles when Diana huffs. “If not crackers, maybe a story? I have many League adventures that are amusing. Or stories of the gods.”

Another shiver wracks through Danny. He huffs out a small cloud of mist. “Ugh. Um, silly League stories. They’re much better than mine.”

“Then shall we trade, little warrior? A League story for a ghost story, it is a fair exchange.” And her eyes gleam a little bit when Danny manages a laugh. Diana finds it admirable and endearing that Danny’s sense of humor has been as durable as the teen. 

“You first,” Danny declares. “Hang on, I think I’m going to sneeze and it’s going to be disgusting.”

“The color is amusing at least,” Diana offers as she grabs a tissue. “You’re already better than this morning. The fever has definitely lessened.”

The tissue is wadded up and tossed away, but not until Diana confirms the snot is indeed day-glo green. “Ghost biology is weird. Yeah, my headache is better too.”

“Yeah?” She pushes his bangs back. “A good sign. How do your wounds feel?”

He flaps his free hand in a circle. “Not as painful, mostly itchy. Weirdly slimy. Did you know human bodies make mucus to heal most things? Human biology is weird too!” A beat. “Wait! You promised a story.”

“I believe I negotiated for a trade, little warrior.” Diana lets herself sound smug. “Hm, there’s a lot. I don’t know where to start. I’ve been a hero a long time.”

Somehow, Danny weedles hours of stories from her. A number of Leaguers’ ears are probably burning, particularly Batman and Flash. Reluctantly Danny shares a few of his own heroic tales. She especially loves the story with Jazz and Youngblood. 

He holds things back. Diana can tell. Whether he fears her reaction or wants to obfuscate the real danger he was in, Diana does not know. His stories come with the realization how alone Danny has been. She can’t stop herself from praising him.

“Without a mentor! Impressive. Utilizing the inventions available and optimizing them for your own use is incredible. We can teach how to be a good hero, but we cannot teach how to be clever or how to adapt. You should be proud, I hope you are.”

At Danny’s silence, Diana realizes she has been rambling. She smiles ruefully at him. Shocked, she leans closer to his bed. Her cheeks hurt from how hard she’s smiling.

Danny squints at her. His eyes are barely cracked open. She can just begin to see how blue they are.

“There you are.”

He closes his eyes, squints them back open. Diana’s heart clenches.

“Hello, brave one. Please call me Diana.” He clings to her, one hand in hers and the other on her bicep. She slots their joined hands underneath her chin.

“Would you like to see space?”

[ohtobelovedbyme]

"What do you think of me?" | yjh [ch1]

Pairing: YJH x Reader

Genre: best friend’s brother to lovers (or something), FLUFF, romcom, office setting, yjh and his sister are nepo babies Summary: Now that you've just graduated, you don't know which direction to follow next in your life. That is, until your friend recommends you to start working at her family's company (coincidentally, the same company where her brother works).

A/N: Okay, here's the first ever chapter of (please feel free to include some improvement points!!). It's also super long, just keep that in mind. I just winged this and my friends were also the ones who proofread, so props to them 👩‍🦰👧 Lastly, MILITARY HAIRCUT JEONGHAN>>>

Teaser | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Graduating sucks. Graduating from elementary school was weird, you didn’t even notice that you’d already started middle school. Graduating from middle school wasn’t that bad, actually, but then there was high school. You were a new adult, freshly turned 18, and thrust into an unfamiliar city with skyscrapers taller than your local buildings.  Fortunately for you, you had your best friend, a certified “city girl,” beside you. And right now, she still is.

Your dorm right now is a mess. All of your things are scattered on the floor, and very few were properly organized in boxes. Unfortunately for you, it’s your last day here since you’ve just graduated. Your best friend was lounging on a box labeled “Do not sit,” phone in her hand, pretending to work. Although it’s obvious that her phone is doing all the work.

She finally looks up to you as you’re trying to bite a piece of scotch tape, and says, “You know what you should do?”

You look at her, confused about what she’s asking about, when you were finally able to tear the tape off.

“Apply to our company.”

You blink at her while placing the tape on a box full of picture frames. Your best friend of 8 years never fails to show her nepo-baby tendencies. Ever since you two were teenagers, she has had a habit of suggesting pretty random shit that you’d consider impossible if you said them. 

You knew that she was trying to help you out, after all, you’ve always mentioned how you didn’t know what to do after graduation. But, isn’t it kinda weird since, you know, that would be considered a nepo internship? Besides, her family’s company screams tight-ass.

“Your family’s company?” you repeat. “You mean the scary high-rise building with the marble floors with interns that look like they belong in the Truman Show?”

“Exactly! It’s pretty chill,” she says. “I’m already there anyway. Besides, you’re smart enough to get in. Imagine us slacking off in the break room together.”

You snort out a bit, taking the tape again. “That sounds… corrupt.”

“That’s the goal. Yours and mine.”

Right on cue, as you laugh at her, a knock is heard from the door.

Yoon Jeonghan. In black slacks that elongate his already long legs, with his perfect medium-length hair tucked behind his ears, he gets ready to push up his sleeves like some villain getting ready to torture his captive. 

“You said you were done packing twenty minutes ago,” he pestered as his eyebrows furrowed.

Your friend throws your pillow at him. “I’m supervising.”

He catches the pillow mid-air like it’s choreographed and tosses it on the couch. “Oh, I can tell. You’re sweating from all the effort.” 

Then he sees you.

And smiles.

Smiles?

As his sister steps outside with her suitcase, you find yourself alone with him. Jeonghan moves closer, picking up a box of yours like it weighs nothing.

“You moving back home after this?” he asks, his voice low and placid.

“Uh-huh, just for a bit, though. Job hunting.”

He hums. “That won’t take long. You’re competent enough. Despite… this.” He gestures vaguely to the chaos that is your dorm floor.

You glance up from organizing. “You sound confident.”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “You’re not stupid. I know that ‘cause my sister won’t shut up about you and your work.”

You stammer something like "thank you" but it’s probably closer to “th-thank-you” and he just tilts his head, looking amused. You’re still gathering the fact that he has heard about your work. 

As you were overthinking everything he just said, he stepped closer. He looked at your face for just a moment, then his gaze dropped. To your mouth. A sudden wave of heat instantly flushed your cheeks.

His fingers hover near your lips, just short of touching. He doesn’t move.

You can count the seconds.

 One… two…three… Oh god, are you dying? Is this your ticket to heaven?

He finally steps back. You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath underwater.

But he pauses, standing a little too close. “You’ve got tape.”

“Huh?”

“On your face. Right there.” He gestures vaguely near your mouth, his fingers stopping just short of touching your skin. “Very chic. Love the DIY lip gloss.”

He grins pretentiously at your wide-open eyes, your cheeks heating up from either the embarrassment of having tape on or how his fingers almost touched your lips.

Jeonghan cockily walks away as you quickly try to remove the damn tape.

Fuck, isn’t this embarassing.

After giving it some thoughts, you finally did agree to applying for your friend’s company. With your best blazer on, you walk into the conference room. Your heart was pounding in your ears as memorized words started to jumble in your head.

You haven’t even noticed that you were already sitting when a manager from the panel cleared her throat. You look up to see a few respectable managers on the panel. 

A stern-looking lady whose voice it was. HR, probably

A bald man with the most glittery eyes you’ve ever seen. …Production? I guess so.

A man in round glasses looking at at presumably your file–

Yoon Jeonghan.

Shit?

When your friend told you he also worked in their family’s company, you weren’t surprised. But for him to be in a managerial position? Nope, you had thought he was somewhere higher? 

You nearly fall off your chair. All the nervousness from preparing and now this? 

He doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even blink. He just stares at your resume like it personally keyed his car.

“You coordinated multiple campus events,” he says, voice as neutral as a gray wall. “Tell us about a time you resolved conflict, without any real authority to back you up. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

One of the other managers glances at him like bro, what is your damage?

Before this, he hadn’t even asked any questions to the past interviewees. Hell, he hadn’t even talked.

You blink rapidly. “I-I mediated disputes by implementing sanctions? And promoting emotional… uh… clarity?”

He nods slowly, then his gaze flicks to your shoes. “You’re nervous.”

Sir.

“Well-yes,” you mutter. “Interviews are stressful.”

He finally writes something down. “You think this is stressful? You should see our Slack group chats.”

A pause. Then, he says very softly:  “You’re doing fine, by the way.”

Which, somehow, makes it worse. The Sahara itself would be jealous of how you’re now a puddle on the floor.

After a week of radio silence from job portals and spiraling in jobless anxiety, you return home. Only to find your best friend sitting at the dinner table with your parents like she’s the daughter.

“Why are you here?” you ask, baffled and admittedly peeved.

“Dear, don’t talk to your friend like that.” Your mother suddenly stops her conversation with your friend midway, welcomes you home, and starts talking to your father about some whatnot-home-recreation-whatever.

You sit beside her with a dramatic sigh. “Dinner,” she says. “Also, I have something to tell you later.”

“You better take me out for some soju after this because life is hard.”

“No, it’s way better.”

Your parents chuckle as she leans toward you, whispering with a smug look on her face: “You got the job.”

“You’re in. My brother pulled some strings.”

You scream. Out loud. No shame. You pull her into a side hug, both of you bouncing in your seats.

“Wait, your brother? Jeonghan?”

“He’s the one who insisted,” she says, smug.

“I thought I fucked it up!”

“You were sweating so bad,” she agrees. “Like a broken faucet.”

You groan. “Shut up. You’re the worst. Wait, how do you even know that?

“First off, nope, you’re the worst. Secondly, Jeonghan told me.”

Jeonghan? Oh God, whyyyyy?

“God, you probably looked like how you did when you confessed to Seungcheol back in middle school.”

“OH MY GOD, SHUT UP. DON’T. DON’T EVER MENTION THAT EVER AGAIN.”

“I’m imagining your 14-year-old sweaty head attached to your adult body stuttering–”

You’re mid-lunging at her when you freeze.

There was a soft chuckle behind you.

Jeonghan steps out of the hallway, unhurried, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. He’s grinning like the devil got a promotion.

“I think she made the right call,” he says, as he sits beside you, sipping from a glass like this is a family drama and he’s the cool second lead who actually gets the girl.

Your head turns to him so fast you feel whiplash. “Oh, god, you’re here. Why are you here? How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he says with a shrug. “Also, seriously? Seungcheol? That’s your type?”

Your parents are laughing now, and your friend is conveniently stuffing her face with rice to avoid eye contact.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I hate everything.”

He sets a glass of water in front of you, his voice low.

“I don’t,” he says. “Not even close.”

You peek through your fingers at his smirk. Of course, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Later that evening, you step outside with the siblings to see them out. Your best friend gets in the backseat of the car to place the 20-something dishes your mom packed for them.

As you waited outside to say your goodbyes, Jeonghan walked closer to stand beside you. He drifts closer, his steps unhurried. He’s close enough that you could smell him. His signature sandalwood scent, mixed with the spicy aroma of kimchi and… lavender. A little too similar to yours. Close enough that you wonder—did he pick it on purpose? Or are you just imagining things? Either way, you're drunk on the mix, and it’s hard to tell where your perfume ends and his begins.

“You did fine in the interview,” he abruptly says, while putting both of his hands behind his head.

You raise a brow. “Even if I was a nervous wreck?” Even when you asked me if I was the nervous wreck?

“I’ve seen worse,” he pauses, then continues with a lower voice, “Hell, I’ve been worse.”

He clears his throat. “Anyway. Is that the perfume I gave you?” 

He leans forward slightly, as if about to say something else—or get closer.

“Jeonghan, get in here! I can’t adjust the passenger seat!”

He halts mid-step, clicks his tongue softly. “Next time, then.”

Your hand, which was unknowingly clutching your heart-shaped necklace, suddenly loosens its grip. As he walks to the other side of the car, your friend takes his place and notices the swift blinking of your eyes, pointed towards him.

“Honestly, if Jeonghan wasn’t my brother, I’d think he had a thing for you.”

Then again, your answer is cut off as it was her brother’s turn to call her. 

“See you next week, ex-roommie!”

She ducks into the car like she didn’t just detonate a bomb.

What the hell?

Tags (ngl this is so exciting, lol): @sumzysworld, @lixisoul99, @viciousdarlings

[quinnophile]

forgive me father, for I have sinned (teaser)

this fic has not yet been posted!

pairing. remmick x fem!reader

synopsis. in a coastal town riddled with grief and quiet unrest, Remmick, a shipwright with a haunted past, unexpectedly finds solace in the presence of a young woman suffocating under the weight of her father's iron grip - you. What begins as flirtation in flickering candlelight grows into something deeper; stolen moments at the docks, shared songs, and the burning desire to escape a life neither of them chose.

warnings. human + vampire Remmick, pwp, angst, pining, sacrilegious acts, hierophilia, indecent acts within the Lord's house, parental abuse, religious trauma, irish historical accuracy, virgin!reader, monster fucking smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, possible praise, possessiveness, biting, blood play?, dirty talk, dubcon, piv, inexperienced, ). this is set before and during the events of the film!

word count. 10k. + ( predicted )

author's note. this fic is in no way meant to sympathise with Remmick's character in the film. Ya girl is just horny for some Irish vampire. Other than that, I hope you will enjoy my first shot at smut!

there is no smut in this teaser, but plenty to come. these are just a few different selected scenes <3

The voice drifted out like smoke through a cracked window. He could see her now - no, you - half-shadowed in the soft lampglow outside the door, dancing between tables and grinning at the locals as you sang like you owned the very walls around you.

The pub throbbed with the sound of it; boots stomping in time, hands clapping, the chorus echoing back at you from drunk and sober mouths alike. Your voice had a rasp like old whiskey, but it soared, pure and strange and beautiful, like something holy in the middle of all that sin.

“Remmick?” Eoin nudged him. “You alright?”

He didn’t answer.

You bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “So? Any other tunes hiding in that haunted soul of yours?”

He gave a sly smirk. “You mean aside from the ones I hum while sobbing over gravestones and broken dreams?”

You gasped dramatically. “Christ alive, play something cheerful before I throw myself into the Liffey.”

With a chuckle, he struck a chord - a brighter one this time - and began to play a lively reel. His fingers danced along the strings, strumming a rhythm that skipped across the stones like sunlight on water.

You stood without warning, arms thrown wide, and began to twirl, barefoot now, having kicked your boots off without him noticing. Your laughter rang out like wind chimes as you spun around him, skirt flaring with every step.

Remmick watched, spellbound. Still playing, yes, but barely keeping time as you danced around him like the world didn’t hurt, like there were no bruises or pasts or sorrow or fathers.

“Oh, the summer time is coming,” you sang, your voice soaring again, this time more joyful. Less haunting. “And the trees are sweetly bloomin’…”

He joined in, picking up the melody, and the two of you sang into the wind; laughing between verses, forgetting the hour, the pain, the things unsaid.

For a little while, it was just joy, raw, and beautiful. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this happy. 

Then came the Sunday.

Rain clung to the air in a damp, stubborn mist, and the chapel smelled of old stone and wet wool. You were seated in the second pew, your hands folded in practiced piety, but your heart - as always - felt elsewhere.

Your father stood at the pulpit, stern and stony, preaching fire and forgiveness in equal measure. His voice echoed under the vaulted ceiling as he led the congregation in the “Our Father,” eyes closed, cadence sharp.

You exhaled and joined in, lips moving from memory. The words tasted strange in your mouth. Too clean.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

And then, warmth.

A presence slid into the pew beside you, unannounced and wholly impossible. A voice joined yours, a beat behind, low and lilting and full of mischief.

“…Hallowed be thy name…”

You opened one eye.

Remmick.

[vamptizm]

SNOOZE — p. bueckers ( series teaser )

pairing: paige bueckers x soraya mensima (oc)

synopsis: rookie paige bueckers enters the league with confidence, charm, and a bad habit of gravitating toward things she shouldn’t want— like soraya mensima, the wings’ respected star and reluctant heartbreaker. soraya’s been here longer, knows better, and refuses to let lines blur... even as paige keeps rewriting them with every smile.

warnings: angst. fluff. sexual content. mentions of homophobia. mentions of substance abuse. explicit language. rejection. lots of hoops.

word count: -500

♯┆taglist (open) .ᐟ ★ @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @paige05bby @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @xxloveralways14 @prettygirl-gabi @mariahthealchemist

ana speaks ᝰ.ᐟ ── i’m actually so excited about this series because i’ve been WAITING for p to finally get drafted so i could write ts lol. anyway this might be one of my top 3 favorite oc’s and i haven’t even written her yet. i hope y’all can love her as much as i do, including her flaws. will i ever stop starting a new series before finishing my old ones? i fear not.

soraya mensima 🐆 🏹 — 07/06/2000. dallas wings. 5’10. small forward—shooting guard. #13. introvert. orange cat. 2021/2022 ncaa champion. sc & stanford alumni. 2023 first overall pick.

paige bueckers 🪐🧸 — 20/10/2001. dallas wings. 6’0. point guard. #5. extrovert. golden retriever. 2025 ncaa champion. uconn alumni. 2025 first overall pick.

Before the cameras, before the contracts, before either of them wore ‘TEXAS’ across their chest— there was college.

And in college, Paige Bueckers was the moment.

UConn’s prodigy. America’s darling. She moved like a storm in motion— beautiful, dangerous, impossible to ignore. She didn’t just play the game; she commanded it. A legacy already written before she’d even laced up.

Soraya Mensima was the one who beat her.

Not just by luck, not in passing— but in the NCAA finals 2022. South Carolina versus UConn. A showdown soaked in sweat and legacy. Soraya dropped 31 points and a final three that broke hearts in Connecticut and carved her name into the record books.

No trash talk. No drama. Just cold, clean execution. A win she carried on her shoulders like it was nothing.

People don’t forget that kind of thing. They remember losses like that. They remember the ones who handed them to you.

And now they’re supposed to share a locker room.

Soraya had been with the Wings for two years already, a storm in her own right—quiet, relentless, deeply respected. Two national titles, two powerhouse programs, one tragic injury her freshman year.

She trained like it was religion. Played like the court was her sanctuary. She didn’t waste words or energy. But when she looked at you, you felt it.

She was gravity in motion.

And Paige? Paige was chaos in sneakers.

Rookie, sure. But never small. She walked in with a grin and a confidence that practically bounced off the walls. She made friends in minutes. Laughed at things no one else heard. Danced during stretches. Sang under her breath. Made herself at home in rooms she’d only just entered and made a game out of charm. She took up space and made people enjoy it.

And she kept orbiting Soraya.

A teasing comment. A stupid joke during stretches. A nickname no one else dared try. Paige didn’t bother hiding it—her fascination was plain as day, wrapped in a grin and charm. Bold enough to make people stare.

But Soraya? She didn’t bite.

She stayed distant. Professional. Sharp and unreadable— especially when Paige was near. Like she knew something was coming and was determined to keep the line from moving.

Still... her eyes lingered. Just a second too long, every now and then. Enough to make Paige wonder. Just long enough to hurt. Because the thing about tension is— it doesn’t just go away.

It just waits for one of them to stop pretending it isn’t there.

‎

‎‎ ‎

playlist ᯓ★ snooze .ᐟ sza. pink matter .ᐟ frank ocean. trouble .ᐟ frank ocean. right here .ᐟ justin bieber. art deco (instrumental) .ᐟ lana del rey. once more to see you .ᐟ mitski. tbh .ᐟ partynextdoor. good days .ᐟ sza. bed chem .ᐟ sabrina carpenter. attention .ᐟ bryson tiller. shameless .ᐟ avenoir. dreams, fairytales, fantasy .ᐟ asap ferg ft. brent faiyaz. we can’t be friends .ᐟ ariana grande. guilty as sin .ᐟ taylor swift. useless .ᐟ omar apollo. heart to heart .ᐟ mac demarco. sure thing .ᐟ miguel. love on the brain .ᐟ rihanna. love me 4 me .ᐟ sza. let me love you .ᐟ ariana grande. jealous .ᐟ nick jonas. all that matters .ᐟ justin bieber. exhale .ᐟ sabrina carpenter. next to you .ᐟ bryson tiller. another life .ᐟ sza.

[mochacoda]

[teaser] night d(r)ive | yjh

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x GN!Reader

Synopsis: As a close friend of the most sought-after man on campus, you’d like to think that you know Jeonghan well enough to predict his thoughts on romance and his territoriality over ramen. (Spoiler: You don't.)

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Friends to Lovers | College AU

Tags: short hair jeonghan, extreme pining, liking ramen as a plot device, crying, being losers for each other, insecure reader, lots of konglish w/ translations, overly indulgent kissing, no "y/n,” this is for everyone who voted jeonghan in the poll <3

Word Count: 5K (full)

Release Date: February 9 -> RELEASED HERE

Masterlist

You‘d like to think that you know Yoon Jeonghan well. Surely, you do! Over the years, you‘ve come across—and committed to memory—dozens, if not hundreds, of his little oddities. You’ve witnessed his personality change with the length of his hair, and learned the hard way that cheating at card games is like second nature to him. At this point, you can recite more information about his pet rock than ramen, which is somewhat terrifying if you dwell on it for too long, considering that ramen is your favorite food. 

But despite his chaotic personality, you also know that he’s incredibly smart, having sat next to him in countless college lectures and trivia events. 

Honestly, it can’t possibly be a stretch to say that you know the man too well, can't it? And at times, it feels a bit unfair that you can only reply, “oh, I know him,” when people fleetingly mention him in conversation. It hurts that you can’t clarify that you know him—that you can’t ramble on about how he made the stupidest joke to make you laugh when you were upset about your most recent midterm, or handmade you the sweetest present for your birthday, or let you choose your favorite film for movie night for the third time in a row—because no one wants to nor needs to hear about it.

But, unfortunately, that’s all you can think about these days. 

Because, unfortunately, Yoon Jeonghan is simultaneously the funniest, weirdest, kindest, and most devastatingly handsome man you’ve ever met. 

Yoon Jeonghan is the kind of guy who would drive 40 minutes out of his way just to pick you up, but also wouldn’t yield the last ramen at the local convenience store to you. Though he gives into his internal demands for petty possessiveness quite often, he cares deeply for his friends. 

He’s also the kind of guy people are quick to fall for, only to get crushed by his nonchalant but somewhat firm indifference for dating. You’ve witnessed him casually turn down far too many objectively gorgeous and incredibly intelligent people, which has convinced you that his standards are impossibly high. And if you were honest with yourself, based on the people he’d already rejected, it would be laughable for you to even think about confessing to him.

And so, as a close friend of the most sought-after man on campus, you’d like to think you know Jeonghan well enough to predict his thoughts on romance and his territoriality over ramen.

In fact, you’re sure about the ramen issue, because you’re witnessing it happen right now.

You’re staring at his smirking face in the instant food aisle of the convenience store, both of you gripping the last Neoguri cup like it’s a trophy.

“You gotta learn patience,” Jeonghan tuts, his lips upturned infuriatingly at one corner. 

“No, you should learn patience. 손 빼, [Take your hand off,]” you demand, grasping the cup tighter.

“싫은데? [Don’t wanna,]” he says in a sing-song voice, raising his chin in defiance.

The ramen cup creaks slightly under the pressure of your combined grip, and a terrible thought forms in your head. Your hand is sandwiched between his hand and the cup, making you feel the heat radiating from his body. It’s something you’re afraid you could get used to. 

You narrow your eyes, targeting his ridiculous, perfect lazy smile. “Take it off while I’m being nice.”

“Nah,” he replies immediately, smiling wider, his tongue sliding to the right. 

Your heart lurches at the sight. 

“치사하게 진짜 이럴 거야? [You’re so petty, are you really going to be like this?]” You chew on your bottom lip, eyes flitting between his face and his hand. 

Jeonghan tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes sharp and steady on yours. He’s not really looking at the ramen anymore, and the intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“내가 여기서 이 옷을 입고 있는데, [I’m wearing these clothes here,]” he says, using his free hand to pinch the fabric of the expensive suit he always wears at his internship. “굳이 라면 하나 때문에 나랑 싸운다고? 그냥 빨리 가자, 음? [You’re really gonna fight with me over just one ramen cup? Let’s just go now, hmm?]”

You press your lips together and jut your chin in defiance. 

He sighs dramatically, shaking his head. His shaggy, dark hair flows with it, and you can’t help but think that he looks princely like this, standing in the middle of this convenience store with his stupidly gorgeous face, and that dumb suit and tie. 

“양보해. [Give it up.] I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says, his voice dipping lower. It feels less like an offer and more like a taunt, a challenge. His tone sends a small shiver through you, and for a second, you’re not sure if he’s teasing or serious.

You have to take a slow, deep breath to calm yourself down before even considering what to say next. You’re grateful for the ride (and his company), of course, but that doesn’t mean he can steal your rightful claim under your nose, in the same casual manner he has when letting one of his fans down. 

You’ve always given into him. Because he means everything to you, of course. 

But you’ve had enough of letting him have his way so easily, not with your precious ramen at risk.

You boldly step closer to him, cutting the distance between the two of you in half. You’re close enough to see your reflection in his eyes, now. 

“I’m not letting go.” You firmly shake your head. You wouldn’t let him win this time. “I don’t want anything but this,” you add, stubbornly.

Tugging hard, you try to pull the cup toward you, but it frustratingly remains stuck on the shelf between the two of you. Looking back up, you see that he isn’t even straining to keep the ramen in place! You frown, wondering when your best friend got so strong.

He leans in just a fraction closer. “Keep trying,” he murmurs, and he’s so close that you can feel his warm breath tickling your face. 

The world narrows to Jeonghan, and the faint scent of the cologne he only wears on weekends. It’s dizzying.

“야아아! [Hey!] I was here first!” you weakly defend, voice embarrassingly squeaky.

And then Jeonghan does something that completely short-circuits your brain.

His free hand lifts and brushes your hair away to your back, before resting on the divot between your neck and collarbone, where his thumb caresses the side of your neck. Feather-light, his touch is gentle, and his fingers are impossibly warm, a stark contrast to this slightly chilly convenience store. You just about choke on your surprise, your heart kicking into overdrive at the sheer intimacy of the gesture. 

God, how is it that you never get a rest day with Jeonghan? How is it that he’s always flirting, always disregarding the boundaries of platonic and romantic love, always making you confused? And how is it that you just let it happen, that you just take whatever affection he gives you? How is it that you’re drawn into his dangerous touch, like a moth to a flame? Except that analogy doesn’t really work, because at least moths don’t know that they’re in danger when they reach fire—you know what you’re getting into, and you know all too well that Jeonghan will never be yours. 

“Please?” he whispers.

Your breath hitches, suddenly aware that even for your overly-touchy friend, this level of skinship is extreme. 

Does he know? Has he found out that you’re in love with him, that you’ve been keeping this ungodly secret from him for far too long? Does he know that every time he lets someone down, that every time he complains to you about people confessing and crying over him, you give him superficial laughs as you swallow your own feelings? 

Does he know that you feel like sinking into the ground every time he entertains a random girl flirting with him, and that every time he crosses boundaries with you, it hammers in the fact that he thinks you’re a joke? 

Does he know that you’ve spent over a year trying to convince yourself that you don’t have feelings for him, only to fail miserably, because there is no such thing as cutting Yoon Jeonghan out of your life, because he makes you feel so, so alive? 

He must know. He must be making fun of you, now.

Your eyes widen, frantically searching his face for an ounce of malice. And you expect to see the look he always has when shredding the hearts of the brave people who confess to him, the face he makes when he casually tells someone that he doesn’t feel the same way. You expect to see an almost-cruel, blank stare paired with apologetic lips pressed together. 

You expect him to crush your heart. 

But instead, he’s staring at you with a gaze so, so, very soft, you wonder if you’ve hallucinated it. Shining eyes, raised eyebrows, mouth parted—he looks devastatingly beautiful.

Masterlist

Author's Note: now RELEASED HERE for all the singles who need a big literary hug this valentines week

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Under The Old Oak Tree - Clark Kent X GN Reader

Title: Under The Old Oak Tree

Clark Kent X GN Reader

(Can be seen as any iteration of Clark Kent/Superman.)

Additional Characters: Clark's parents (Mentioned)

WC: 3,560

Warnings: Can been seen as any iteration of Clark Kent/Superman (just got inspired by the teaser trailer for the new Superman movie), italics, teasing, banter, flirting, mentions of his Superman duties, nervous Clark, brief mention of marriage, confessions, crying (good), very mini angst, and fluff

“Can I open my eyes now?” You asked through a chuckle, your voice lilting with playful impatience. The soft fabric of Clark’s red bandana rested over your eyes, leaving you completely blind to the world around you; however, you could hear the changing of terrain, the other cars on the road, and so on, so that was nice. 

The blindfold was his idea, of course - despite being your loving, compassionate, kind, and handsome boyfriend of three years, he didn’t seem to trust you when you said that you would keep your eyes shut the entire ride. He knew that the temptation of opening your eyes would be too much, so blindfold it was.

“Not yet,” Clark replied, his deep, steady voice was laced with a hint of nervousness; that you somehow didn’t pick up - you usually were pretty good at picking up on his emotions but it seemed that the excitement and anticipation were clouding your usual sharp instincts. His fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, a rhythm that matched the quiet hum of the song playing on the radio. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

“Where is ‘there’ exactly?” You teased, tilting your head in his direction even though you couldn’t see him.

Clark let out a soft laugh, and you could picture the way his lips curled into that warm grin of his. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth bubbling in your chest. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

The sound of gravel then slipped away, replaced with what you thought was grass. The truck shifted and rocked gently as it moved. You tried to piece it together but it was no use. And it didn’t matter anyway, in a matter of seconds, you would find out.

The truck came to a stop, and so did your heart for a brief moment. There was a rustling as Clark turned off the engine and unbuckled from his seat. You then felt his presence as he moved over the center console slightly, his movements slow. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine before his lips brushed softly against your skin in a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Clark…” You breathed, your heart sputtering as you turned your head; your hands itching to take off the blindfold.

“Are you ready?” He murmured, his voice low and impossibly gentle.

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, “I’ve been ready since you blindfolded me.” You felt his fingers move to the back of your head, his touch careful and precise as to not accidentally tug at your hair as he untied the bandana. The fabric slipped away, and the light began to filter in, soft and golden. You blinked rapidly, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, and when your vision cleared, your breath caught in your throat. “Oh, Clark,” You whispered, your hand coming up to rest over your chest, where you could feel your heart thudding against your palm.

Before you stretched the field where you and Clark had your first date, and it was as breathtaking as you remembered. Rolling grassy hills spread out in every direction, their lush green softened by the warm light of the afternoon. Dotted throughout were wildflowers in shades of yellow, purple, and white, swaying in the gentle breeze.

At the heart of it all stood the giant oak tree, its massive branches stretching out wide, casting shadows across the grass. Its leaves were the most perfect shade of green. It was the same spot where the two of you spent hours talking, sharing stories and laughter as though the world had stopped for you.

You couldn’t help but be swept away by the vivid memories that filled this place. Like the time you had insisted on climbing the tree. You had managed to scramble up a few sturdy branches, laughing as Clark stood below, clearly amused by your determination. As you got to a pretty thick branch to rest on, you had looked down and teased him about being stuck on the ground, but then he simply floated up to meet your gaze, making you roll your eyes jokingly.

Then there was the quiet afternoon when you had both decided that the day was perfect for reading. So, you both sat at the base of the tree, the shade cool. Clark’s head rested in your lap, a paperback novel in his hands. You’d been absentmindedly carding your fingers through his dark curls, marveling at how soft they were while you tried to pay attention to your own book in your free hand. He glanced up at you every so often, his blue eyes full of warmth, and he’d just smile…

And who could forget the picnic where you had fed him strawberries, only for him to lean forward and kiss you, his lips tasting of sweet fruit? Or the time he’d coaxed you into lying on the grass to stargaze when you both stayed at the field a bit longer than usual. His voice was soft as he named constellations, with his hand warm as it held yours, and your cheek nuzzling into the fabric of his flannel. 

It had been a while since you had had the time to come to the field. With work and life in general, neither you or Clark really had much time to take the forty minute drive down. As you stared at the beautiful scenery around you, you sighed… You really did miss this place.

You turned to Clark, tears welling up in your eyes at the memories that he had brought back to life. “I can’t believe you brought me here.”

He gave you that smile - the one that made your heart ache in the best way possible, “I know we haven’t had much time lately,” He admitted, his tone tinged with both apology and fondness. Deep down, he knew that around fifty percent of the reason why you hadn’t come to the field was because of his… Superhero duties. And he also knew that if he said it out loud, you would immediately brush it off, telling him he didn’t need to feel guilty. What he did helped people, saved people. You understood. The wait is always worth it, in your opinion. Still, the thought lingered, tugging at the corners of his mind. “But I thought it’d be nice to come back here. It’s been too long, and I didn’t want us to forget how special this place is.”

You didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, you smiled at him, your lips curling into something soft and tender as you let out a dreamy sigh. Your gaze lingered on him, drinking in every detail of his face, your heart swelling with such profound love for him.

Clark cleared his throat suddenly, as though he’d just remembered something. “Oh! Wait a second,” He spun on his heel and rushed to the back seat of the truck, opening the door with a bit more urgency than necessary. After a moment of rustling, he straightened up, holding a picnic basket in his hands. He turned to face you, a nervous but undeniably endearingly adorable smile on his face. “I, uh… I thought a picnic might be fun.”

You sighed once more, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and affection for him rising in your chest. Your Clark… Your beautiful and thoughtful Clark… He was simply the best at planning dates.

Clark reached into the basket and pulled out a picnic blanket, but before he could unfold it, you stepped forward, taking it from him with a soft laugh. You stayed close as you did, the proximity enough to make yours and his heart race. Without thinking, your free hand found its way to his cheek, gently cupping it, your thumb brushing along his soft skin as you searched his eyes. 

“This… This is the best surprise, Clark,” You muttered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The kiss was brief, sweet, but it conveyed everything your heart had been holding - everything words couldn’t express. You pulled back gently, a smile curving on your lips as you met his gaze. Clark’s eyes were soft, his lips slightly parted, as though he was still lingering in the warmth of your lips against his. A faint blush colored his cheeks, and his usual confidence seemed replaced by something tender, almost vulnerable; his gaze never left you.

A short time later, the two of you were at the base of the tree, the blanket spread out beneath the branches. You worked together to set up, arranging the food and drinks with care. A small thermos of iced tea, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, and a container of fruit. The simple utensils - plastic forks and paper napkins - were set out in an organized fashion. It wasn’t much, but it was perfect, made all the more special by the fact that it was the two of you, here, in this spot where your journey together had begun.

Clark was nervous. Incredibly so. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed the way his breath left his lungs with a slight shake or how his hands fumbled over the simplest of tasks, like unwrapping the sandwiches. He caught himself stumbling over his words more than once, trying to mask it with small smiles or glances your way. But, maybe you did notice. Maybe you didn’t want to say anything. That wasn’t like you, though - you always noticed. When he was nervous, you’d take notice right away, always asking if he was alright or if something was troubling him. So why now, when his heart raced and his nerves felt frayed, hadn’t you asked? Did you really not notice? Or were you simply giving him the space to sort through it himself?

He didn’t know.

But it was making him more nervous, if that was even possible.

You were telling him about your day at work. All about the boring business meeting you had to go to, it was mandatory for some reason, even though it could’ve just been an email. But, when Clark surprised you by picking you up after work really turned the entire day around. “Seeing your face always brightens my day,” You said with a soft laugh, your gaze meeting his.

Clark tried to focus on your words, to give you the attention you deserved, but the weight in his back pocket was impossible to ignore. And it had been for the past three weeks since he bought it. His thoughts kept drifting back to it - the small, velvet box that felt heavier than anything he’d ever lifted. He shifted subtly on the blanket, his fingers twitching as they clenched around the fabric under his hand as he propped himself up.

“Clark?” Your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, a hint of amusement lacing your tone. “You okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

Oh, who was he kidding? He didn’t have only one weakness. He had Kryptonite and then you. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you a little too intently. “Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He replied quickly, the slight waver in his voice betraying him.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “You sure about that?” Clark bit his lip, casting his gaze down at his half-eaten sandwich, his brows knitting together. Your amused grin faltered, replaced by a softer expression as concern etched itself into your features. You leaned closer, your hand gently resting on his arm. “Clark,” You said softly, your voice laced with warmth and care. “What’s wrong?” 

The subtle weight of your touch and the genuine concern in your eyes made his heart ache. He let out a shaky breath, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as he tried to find the right words. “It’s… Nothing, really,” He mumbled, but even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

“Clark,” You pressed gently, your thumb brushing against his arm in a soothing motion. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here.” He looked up then, his blue eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he was struck silent by the way you looked at him - so full of love and trust. And that only made the weight in his pocket feel heavier. You then tried to lighten the mood, a playful smile tugging at your lips despite the concern still lingering in your eyes. “Come on, Clark, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the time you told me you were Superman.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile almost breaking through his nervous demeanor. “That was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” He murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of fondness and anxiety.

You chuckled, giving his arm a playful squeeze. “Oh, I remember. You sat me down like you were about to confess to a crime or something. ‘It’s a big deal,’ you said. And sure, finding out my boyfriend wears tights under his clothes was a lot to process, but hey, we survived.”

Clark chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar, easing some of the tension in the air. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath as he nodded, his hand absently smoothing over the blanket. “This… Might be bigger,” He admitted quietly.

Your brow furrowed, and your teasing smile melted into something softer, more reassuring. “Bigger than Superman? Now you’ve definitely got me curious.”

Clark cleared his throat, his eyes dropping from yours as his nerves began to take hold again. He sat up straighter, his posture more rigid, and the soft frown crept back onto his face. You waited patiently, your heart racing in your chest, but you didn’t push him. Whatever he needed to say, you’d let him say it in his own time.

He raised his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat once more before turning his body to face you fully, sitting cross-legged in front of you. His eyes locked onto yours - determined but still nervous. “Y/N,” He started, but then he faltered, huffing in frustration as he shook his head. Raising his hands, he tried again, but halfway through the sentence, he stopped. “Do you remember…” He began anew, his voice a little steadier, “That week we went to visit my parents? We stopped at that little diner about twenty minutes from the farm.”

You tilted your head slightly, nodding with a soft smile. “Of course. How could I forget? Their milkshakes are legendary.”

Clark’s lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “Right. You ordered two milkshakes for yourself - one chocolate, one strawberry - because you were so confident you could finish them both. But halfway through the second one, you were practically pleading with me to help you finish it because you didn’t want to waste it, and you were getting brainfreeze.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Hey, in my defense, they were huge milkshakes. I wasn’t expecting the glass to be a foot tall.”

He chuckled along with you, his eyes softening as he continued. “Yeah, they were pretty tall glasses. But that wasn’t what stuck with me. It was the way the sunlight came through the diner window, hitting your face just right. Your hair had that golden glow to it, and your eyes… They were brighter than anything I’d ever seen.”

Your smile softened, and you could feel the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “Clark…”

He shook his head slightly, pressing on as if he had to get the words out now before his nerves got the better of him. “And then you laughed. Not just a little laugh, but the kind that made everyone else in the diner turn to look at you. You didn’t care, though. You just smiled at me, completely unbothered by the world. And then…” His voice grew quieter, his gaze holding yours as he spoke. “You leaned across the table, stole a fry off my plate, and dipped it into your milkshake…”

Your laugh was softer this time, your eyes glistening as you watched him. “Is this an intervention about stealing your food all the time?”

“No…” Clark smiled warmly, his hand brushing over the blanket as he stared at you. “You were perfect. And in that moment, with the sun on your face and that laugh… I knew.”

You blinked, your mouth slightly open as your breath hitched. “Knew what?” You whispered.

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “That I wanted to marry you.”

You watched with bated breath as Clark shifted, his hand reaching back to pull something from his back pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, you knew. The realization hit you like a wave, and you could feel the telltale sting of tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Clark…” You began, but couldn’t finish as you slowly raised both hands to cover your mouth, your breath catching as the small velvet box appeared in his hand.

Clark’s fingers trembled slightly as he held it, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been carrying this around for weeks,” He confessed softly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Waiting for the perfect moment… But the truth is, every moment with you feels perfect.”

Tears spilled over your cheeks as you shook your head slightly, overwhelmed with emotion. “Oh, Clark…” You managed, your voice muffled behind your hands.

He smiled, his own eyes glistening as he opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. The band shimmered with a soft, delicate shine in the light, and at its center was a brilliant stone. “I love you more than anything,” He said, his voice steady despite the emotions coursing through him. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, Y/N… Will you marry me?”

You took in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as tears continued to stream down your face. You stared at the ring, then back up at him, your heart racing with disbelief and joy. Suddenly, you surged forward, collapsing into his arms, wrapping your own arms tightly around his neck. The surprise knocked him backward, his back hitting the blanket beneath you both.

You sobbed into his shoulder, barely able to breathe through your emotions. “Yes… Yes!” You cried, repeating it over and over, your fingers weaving into his soft curls, “Yes, Clark!” Clark’s heart swelled at your answer, and he smiled - a huge, bright, beautiful smile that lit up his entire face. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. You lifted yourself slightly, staring down at him, your heart full as you gazed into his eyes. “I would love nothing more than to marry you,” You said softly, your voice thick with love. Without another word, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss.

The kiss started gentle, your lips brushed against his, warm and soft. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss. You responded, your fingers continuing their journey through his hair, tugging him even closer. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness and you melted into him, completely lost in the kiss.

As you slowly pulled back, your breaths mingling and your heart racing, you couldn’t help yourself - your hands gently cupped his face, and you pressed soft, joyful kisses all over him. First, you kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment, then moved to the smooth skin of his cheeks, your lips barely grazing his skin before you kissed the tip of his nose.

Clark’s eyes fluttered closed with each kiss, a soft chuckle escaping him when you kissed his nose, before rubbing your nose against his. His hands gently gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned into your touch, his face breaking into a warm, adoring smile. He let out a soft sigh of contentment, clearly overwhelmed by the moment. “You’re incredible,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Eventually, the two of you slowly pulled back, sitting up together. Clark took a deep breath as he reached for the small box that had somehow fallen to the side - which were next to his glasses, which flew off as well - and with careful hands, he slipped the ring onto your finger. 

After admiring your ring, wiggling your fingers to watch the gem in the middle sparkle in the sunlight, you looked up at Clark - well, your now fiancé, “Well, guess this means you're officially stuck with me forever, huh?” You teased, grinning playfully.

Clark rolled his eyes lovingly, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’re the one who’s stuck with me,” He said, his voice warm, yet playful. Then, without another word, he gently took your hand, the one adorned with the ring, and pulled you close; his eyes softened as he leaned in, sealing your lips with his. You let out a soft sigh, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek, and for a moment, you let yourself completely lose yourself in his warmth and love. 

And in that moment, there was nothing else - just the two of you, in love, sitting under the giant oak tree.

~~~

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[eightmakesonebraincell]

the essence of youth is summers with you (teaser)

genre: poly!surfers!ateez x fem!reader, childhood best friend!san, sort of college!au, slice of life and coming of age, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.5k (teaser) + approx. 38k (full fic)

c/w: surfer!ateez (deserves a warning), explicit profanity, more angst when you think things will get better, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

synopsis: when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands– choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?

a/n: surprise!! we’re actually using full stops and paragraphs for once! full fic will be released in exactly one week so enjoy these crumbs until then

you’re all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.

dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoung’s skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallows– the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.

someone had then suggested a round of ‘truth or dare’, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them.

but as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.

“mingi,” haneul directs her question at the taller, “ if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?”

his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends.

“i’d date you all,” he shrugs. “but if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since he’s been there for me from day one.”

yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, “your parents would love to hear that answer.”

you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and you’re reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.

“seonghwa, truth or dare?” mingi asks, moving the game on to the next person.

“truth.”

“if you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?”

seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames.

“i think it depends on the situation, because in the end, they’re not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. it’s impossible to say that one is more important than the other.”

there’s a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where he’s coming from.

it still doesn’t stop san from retorting, “the whole point is to pick one.”

seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him.

“what about you, then?”

much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.

“i would probably choose love. i think you’re right in saying you can’t separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,” he muses. “it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.”

a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves.

haneul nudges you curiously, “what do you think?”

you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts.

“i think i would choose love, too. i’ll admit it’s a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be made…it can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.”

hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.

“but at the same time,” you continue, “when you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isn’t always possible with friendship.”

“you and san are both such gross romantics,” haneul pretends to gag.

“yeah, shoot us for it,” you poke her in the side. “wooyoung, truth or dare?”

“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”

“who’s someone you’re sorry towards or thankful for?”

he whines indignantly, “why are we suddenly getting so personal,” but proceeds to think about his answer seriously.

“if i’m honest, i’m sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.”

there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that he’s wrong. it’s just that knowing doesn’t always stop him from feeling a certain way.

“and of course, what i’m sorry for goes hand in hand with what i’m thankful for. but i’m also especially thankful for y/n,” he reveals.

your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.

“i haven’t known you for as long as most of the other boys, but i’ve seen how happy and vibrant they all are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happy– you make us happy.”

mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the younger’s answer, “when i’m here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.”

a home that he’s never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.

“so thank you for giving me a home here,” mingi looks at you earnestly.

if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“no matter how many years go by, you’ll always have a home here,” you tell him instead.

“and the rest of us?” yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.

“you all have a home here,” you amend.

because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.

you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each other’s hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different.

life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.

“you know what we should do?” wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire.

he grins, “we should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.”

“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.

a smile starts to spread across san’s face as he understands wooyoung’s vision.

“no, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,” san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.

seonghwa questions, “are we really doing this?” and yet he stands up as well.

“when will we ever get a chance to do this again?”

one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. it’s silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.

yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, “i want to become a famous choreographer!”

there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but it’s enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.

“i want my parents to accept that i won’t be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!” yeosang calls out.

mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, “i hope i’ll win the lottery one day!”

you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?

reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.

thank you for showing me what love feels like.

you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.

taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.

and even though you’re all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment.

from here on, it’s the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.

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[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#52: The Ring Finger (1.06)

gif cred: @machonnes

We’ve arrived at the TOWL finale. 🥹🥳

And y’all, the way this finale kicks off with that opening scene...🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥. Episode 6 hit the ground running by starting with one of Richonne's greatest moments. I love how in the first episode of TOWL, Rick essentially gave his hand for the marriage. And now in the final episode, Michonne gives her hand in marriage. 🥰

Thanks to this gorgeous wedding ring scene and their parting kiss in the woods, this teaser is top tier. Also, Richonne + candle-lit scenes stayed a blessing to the end 🕯😍...

Sometimes there are scenes that make me want to know exactly who came up with the idea so I can thank them personally. And this right here is one of those scenes. 😋 Whoever’s idea it was to have Rick put the ring on Michonne’s finger while making love surrounded by candles needs a medal lol. 👌🏽🏅

So diving into these finale revelings, I noted that the episode description for The Last Time says “Rick and Michonne have to perform a near impossible miracle” And well, since Richonne is blessed and highly favored of course they pull off a miracle. 😇

The episode begins with Rick saying, “I remember it all. What it was like. Who we were. Who we are now.”

If I’m not mistaken, I don’t think we’d heard Rick say this line before this episode. Like the following sound bites from different characters are all lines previously said throughout the miniseries, but I think this opening line from Rick is new. And it hit me on the rewatch that he’s talking about him and Michonne specifically rather than a broader ‘we’.

Like I interpret this as Rick saying how, after all their years apart, he still remembers everything about the life and the love he and Michonne had before and who they were together. You know that man has an excellent memory. Especially when it comes to Michonne. 😋

And I like that he says ‘who we are now’ because even after all they’ve been through apart, after all the ways they’ve grown and changed, who Rick and Michonne are now is still so compatible and connected. Still soulmates. 😌

Also, the episode after Rick left TWD was called 'Who Are You Now' and I love that years later, this miniseries so beautifully illustrated that who Rick and Michonne are now are still wholly each others.

The first shot as Rick says this is a shot of mountains as the helicopter flies over the terrain. And then I adore that when he says “Who we are now” we get to see Richonne in the now as they lay in this setting that always gives me regal medieval vibes fit for TWD's royal couple. 🤩

gif cred: @nerd4music

Now, I always smile when I think about my first time watching this scene. I knew this episode had an S rating going in but I didn’t know what that would entail since I thought Episode 4 would probably be the last time Richonne had a bedroom scene. And so when they cut to this scene, I remember my eyes immediately focused on what items were left on top of the table because it’s the finale so I thought certainly the stuff on the table was intentionally placed.

But then...my eyes started picking up on some motion going on in the background - and I was gagged. 🫠

I quickly realized that the most important thing going on in this scene is those two lovebirds in the back re-consummating the marriage. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nobleriver

I love everything about this. 🥰 The sensual setting with the abundance of candles. (And I just know it was that true blue romantic Rick that lit all those candles for their special 'wedding night.' 😋)

The rich colors, the lighting, the literal and figurative smokiness coming off this scene, the way the camera slowly glides over the table and inches closer to Richonne fully in their element together. 👩🏽‍🍳💋

gif cred: @nobleriver

After Rick had to watch the memory of Michonne burn away in the premiere, it’s beautiful that in the finale Rick gets to be truly back with Michonne surrounded by the far more romantic and uplifting flames of all those candles. 🕯👌🏽

Whenever I see this scene now, Richonne is all I see. 😋 But the items shown really are intentionally placed and all tell the story of their travels: the noodles, the whiskey, the soda, the map and notes, the CRM uniforms and thread. And the sound bites that play from the characters also tell the story of Richonne’s TOWL journey.

At first, I thought the sound bites were simply recapping the journey, but on rewatch I see they have even more intention in both shaping the story thus far and setting up what's to come in this finale. 

First Michonne says, “My name is Michonne. I lost someone. Years ago.” And in the background it’s so sweet seeing all the caressing going on between Rick and Michonne. Once again, it’s a canon fact that he loves being on top of her. And I love the way they’re holding onto each other and the way he’s tenderly touching her face. 🥹

gif cred: @nobleriver

Then Okafor says, “You both possess something I believe the CRM needs to become what it needs to be.” And while Okafor was originally saying that to Rick and Pearl, the line is reiterated here because it’s Richonne who truly possesses something that can change the CRM for good.

(Side note: Y'all, I must admit it's a true challenge for me to try and write and pay attention to what these characters are saying right now when Richonne is back there like that making me distracted. 😋 I keep having to rewind and refocus.🤭

Like I know we all see the way Rick has Michonne's legs hiked up in the air during this part. These talented actors are very good at selling these scenes, that’s all I gotta say lol) 

gif cred: @nobleriver

Then it’s a bit of an audible jump scare when Jadis says, “People are a resource.” Didn’t quite want to hear a snake at a blissful moment like this lol.

But I'm pretty sure that corpse's line was used because Rick and Michonne are about to protect the people from the people with their plan to expose the CRM higher-ups.

Then we get a palette cleanser from hearing Jadis when we hear the best bestie Nat say, “I know how to build things and I know how to burn things, but it takes more than that at the end of the world.” And the intentionality behind using that line here is definitely because Richonne will end up employing Nat’s techniques to take down the CRM's leaders and also because the concept of building vs. burning was explored throughout the show and led to the answer that sometimes you have to do both. 

As Nat says this, we see Richonne’s backpacks and other things spread out on the ground. The way all their stuff is sprawled out...it seems like the second the mood hit and the candles were lit they threw everything off and got down to business lol.

I like how the most significant items are closest to Richonne’s bed. There’s a bloody sword and ax which feel like they pay homage to some of Richonne’s signature weapons. And I like how the blood on the sword and hatchet just adds to the fact that this stunning love story takes place in an apocalypse of all places, between two apocalyptic all-stars.

Along with the weapons, there’s Rick’s prosthetic, the meaningful iPhone, and the Danger lighter.

And best of all, y’all...there’s the wedding ring. 💍😏

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

As Beale’s voice says, “You tried to escape four times. Why are you here?” Rick slowly grabs the wedding ring, serving as a visual answer to why he’s here - He’s here because of Mrs. Grimes.

And y’all, when I tell you I nearly passed out just seeing that he was slowly grabbing the wedding ring. 🤭 I did not know that this epic love story was going to get this good. #BoundlesslyBlessed.

Along with the visual answer, there's then a verbal answer to why Rick and Michonne are here when Thorne says, “There’s someone you love out there.” I love hearing that play over this visual of Richonne, because truly Rick and Michonne are the one for each other and their love has fueled them to keep going. 

As this is said, Rick proceeds to do the most romantic thing ever when he slowly slides the wedding ring onto Michonne’s ring finger. Just 🫠…our ship is goated for a reason. It just don’t get any better. 👏🏽

gif cred: @msanonships

I love the way Michonne is looking up at him with her hand on his chest and then when she realizes what Rick’s up to she holds up her hand and watches as he puts the ring on her finger all slow and sexy. And Rick is locked in during this moment, honey. 🔥

I adore how honored Rick is to be able to put this ring on Michonne and to be her forever husband and to have her as his wife. She’s Mrs. Grimes...

And I just love that he wanted her to wear the wedding ring for this intimate moment that gives such wedding night vibes. Like there’s something so sacred and majestic about this scene, especially with the lux colors, lush blanket and pillows, and the candlelight glow. 😍

Not only does Rick feel that Michonne deserves the world - he makes it his personal job to give it to her. And he does a damn good job, doesn't he? 👏🏽👏🏽😊

gif cred: @lousolversons

Rick is also very good at making things a moment and this crowning moment very clearly had an affect on Michonne. Because as Rick so tenderly slides his hand down Michonne’s arm and then looks in her eyes, Michonne looks up at her husband like she thinks he is truly the sexiest man on planet earth.

And you know what we always say…Michonne is always right. 😇

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

I love that Michonne’s journey took her from one; looking quite taken by Rick in their pre-canon seasons of TWD.

To two; lying down alone fiddling with Rick's ring on her finger in her final TWD episode. (Which I've always loved that after Rick's season 9 departure, Michonne wore that ring because she knew that who she and Rick were to each other was 100% husband and wife).

To three; now lying down with Rick over her so lovingly placing her wedding ring on her finger. 🙌🏽🥳

Rick always wants Michonne to know, in every way that he can express, how much he loves her. 🥹 And the abundant love Michonne continuously has for Rick is always written so clearly on her face. 🥹

Also, with Rick not having a ring finger himself it feels like placing this wedding ring on Michonne during a moment where they’re this one and interconnected is almost like placing the ring on them. 

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

As they have this eye contact moment that is just chemistry on another level, it’s paired with Michonne’s heartrending line from the masterpiece Episode 4 when she asks Rick, “Do you still love me?” And Rick passionately answers, “Always.”

Those are fitting lines to include because this TOWL journey had Richonne having to navigate what their love looks like now and officially see that they truly have always loved each other and always will.

And now here they are in this beautifully intimate moment, one in every way, letting their undying love just fill the entire atmosphere. 🥰

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

And truly, Rick looks at Michonne like she’s the most beautiful treasure in the world. At this moment, he's looking at her like he’s again thinking “I love you always.” And in all ways. Amen. 👌🏽

I adore how, after he puts the ring on, both Rick and Michonne look like they've somehow managed to fall even deeper in love by the second.

Michonne softly places her ring-clad hand back on Rick's chest and then he leans in as they share another very passionate kiss. And y’all, the only beef I have with this teaser is with that fade-to-black. It comes in too quick lol. 🤭The fade-to-black could’ve waited just a second or two more, because you know some of us be greedy. 😂

But regardless, it’s a great hot-and-heavy kiss and just shows yet again that Rick and Michonne are each other's strongest craving. This whole Richonne ring moment was perfect. 🤩

TOWL really said 'I now pronounce Richonne the hottest husband and wife on television.' 🔥👏🏽

gif cred: @msanonships

Ages ago, I was really eager for Richonne to have rings of their own, and little did I know I’d just have to wait about eight years and then Rick would put a ring on Michonne in a stunning lovemaking scene like this. And once again, it was entirely worth the years-long wait. 😇

I appreciate the way this opening scene just immediately set the tone of how TOWL started as an epic love story and would conclude as an epic love story. What a dream. 👏🏽

And because we’re spoiled, y’all, the teaser doesn’t even end there. 

They then cut to the woods with Rick and Michonne looking like the baddest to ever do it in their black CRM uniforms as they walk forward with the helicopter in the back. Move over Mr. and Mrs. Smith, this is Mr. and Mrs. Grimes on a mission. 🔥

gif cred: @nerd4music

And then as Rick and Michonne walk, they stop and turn to each other and immediately kiss like their life depends on it and I’m always here for it. Like I’ll forever be elated over the fact that there were kisses in every single episode of this 6 episode miniseries, and not just that but most episodes had multiple kissing scenes too. Richonne kissed more in 6 episodes than they did in their four seasons on canon on TWD.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And truly, not even just from a shipper perspective but from a story perspective, it makes perfect sense for these characters who are madly in love and haven’t been able to express it for over eight years to be kissing all the time like this. Cuz I mean...

And now that they’re back together, of course these soulmates are going to make up for that lost time every chance they get. It's just realistic. 😌👌🏽

So I love that our goated captains came back to make this 6-episode miniseries and said guess how many episodes we can fit kisses into...

All 6, baby. 😋 This particular kiss in the woods is meaningful too because Rick and Michonne are about to part for the first time since agreeing to go home together and you know for magnets going their separate ways isn’t easy or ideal, especially when what they’re parting to do is dangerous.

But I love that because their kisses are communication, this kiss was the two making it so clear to each other that no matter what the CRM tries to do, they are each other's ultimate choice and they’re in it together.

Like I love the reassuring vibe of this passionate kiss and the way Rick holds her face and then the way they stare into each other's eyes afterward and nod, again communicating so much. 🥰 They’re about to reenter the lion's den and this moment just felt like them giving each other the strength to do so. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

And y’all, you know I stay getting distracted by Richonne so I forgot Michonne's voiceover is actually saying something in this scene lol. Lemme go happily rewind a sec. ⏮😋

Okay, so while they share this golden kiss, Michonne gives insight into their plan when she says, “It sounds simple, right? We go in. You get the briefing. I get the dossier she left behind. We bring what we know to the city, then go home. Together.”

As this is said, Michonne holds Rick’s arm until the last second as he turns to go which is sweet. They are really each other's baby, y'all. 🥲And as she watches him, we hear her say, “It’s never that simple.” 

gif cred: @msanonships

I know that this last line is meant to be ominous but one thing I'm grateful for about how TWD & TOWL approached Richonne is that it's not like other relationships and things in the show that have to ultimately end in tragedy. Richonne was built to last and be an actual lasting win for Rick and Michonne in this series, which is why I never feared that the two would split up or die because the love they found with each other is the one thing this franchise allows to be unbreakable and triumphant.

So next, Rick slowly walks up to the gates with his hands up as his voiceover says, “I’m Sergeant Major Rick Grimes. You probably think I’m dead.” I like that line because as we know TOWL was a whole journey of Rick dying and coming back to life through Michonne. So now, for the first time in a long time, it’s Alive Rick rolling up to the CRM. 👌🏽

gif cred: @sowhumpful

Then as the CRM soldiers slowly open the gate for him, the teaser ends with Rick recalling his father's words saying, “He said I didn’t need to be scared. That it was just ‘the burning.’” Then the scene fades to black just like how this teaser started and y’all, I just gotta clap it up for that teaser. That ring moment alone had me overjoyed and then the kiss in the matching uniforms and Rick's fine gait up to the gate was the cherry on top. 👏🏽👏🏽

We were already feasting and the finale was just beginning. I appreciate that since this is ‘the last time,’ this show let Richonne do what they do best one last time and just put their love and chemistry on full display. 👌🏽😌

[mostsanefilmliker]

Most upset people are complaining about the muscles and I get it. but what really bothers ME is how dolled up Abby looks in the new teaser.

To me it looks way too obvious that HBO’s Abby is wearing makeup. Actors always have some on them, but I mean those dark bambi lashes, bright undereyes, full brows and bright pink lips. Abby’s beauty is in her no-makeup look. You can barely see her lashes in the game and this is something that could’ve been avoided so easily, even easier than giving Bella Ramsey a side part.

Also, look at videogame Abby’s arched brows. They give her edge instead of a worried, innocent look. OG Abby looks serious, not doll-like.

Otherwise i think that she’s a really close pick. It’d be pretty impossible to find anyone who fully captures all the details of a fictional character.

(btw side note: I think they didn’t bother to give Bella bangs because her hair is very curly)

[mysteryshoptls]

R Epel Felmier - PE Uniform Vignette

"A rampaging golden dragon"

[Sports Field]

Vargas: Alright, that's enough for flight lessons! We'll be stretching in pairs for the time we have remaining!

Epel: In pairs, huh… I don't think there's many Pomefiore students taking these kinds of physical fitness elective classes…

Deuce: Hey, Epel, you alone? Want to pair up?

Epel: Oh… Deuce-kun. Yeah, okay.

Deuce: Then, we'll start with a forward bend… Hm? Hey, you have some sand on your back.

Epel: Eh? …Is it around here?

Deuce: Haha, I guess you can't really see your own back. I'll brush it off for you.

[brush, brush]

Deuce: There you go, all clean.

Epel: Thanks. I guess it got on me during class.

Epel: I actually kinda like this PE uniform, so I should make sure to wash them today before the dirt gets impossible to clean out.

Deuce: I wasn't expecting that. I thought you'd like your fluttery dorm uniform more than the PE uniform.

Epel: …Really?

Epel: Well… The Pomefiore dorm uniform is pretty, sure, but I think casual and sporty stuff is pretty good, too.

Epel: That's why I like these kinds of clothes, too… Yeah.

Deuce: Neat, we're on the same page. I really like this school's PE uniform, too.

Epel: Oh, you too?

Deuce: Yeah. They're sturdy and easy to move around in. What I like best is that it's all one-piece.

Epel: Yeah, and also… It's a pretty simple outfit, so there's so many ways to customize it to suit your own tastes…

Epel: Like maybe something could be embroidered on it…

Deuce: Embroidered?

Deuce: …Hahaha, true, I guess some embroidered roses would suit you, Epel.

Epel: .........

Epel: I mean… I'm not really into floral patterns.

Epel: Besides… Wouldn't a floral pattern suit you more, since you're in Heartslabyul?

Deuce: Now that you mention it, I guess there are roses on my dorm's uniform.

Deuce: Flowers aren't bad, but if I were gonna get something embroidered, I'd want something with more punch.

Epel: More punch…? Like what?

Deuce: Let me think. I wear this during my club activities too, so it'd be great to have something that'd overwhelm anyone who'd try to pick a fight…

Deuce: Maybe like a tiger.

Epel: A tiger…

Deuce: A dragon would be cool, too.

Epel: A dragon…!

Deuce: It'd be cool to have something emblazoned on my back, but it might be cool to have it tucked into the inner lining, too.

Epel: …So like, if the wind kicks up the hem of the jacket, you'd catch a glimpse of a rampaging golden dragon?

Deuce: !! You get me, Epel! You see the vision!?

Deuce: Didn't think I'd find someone who had the same taste here.

Deuce: It doesn't have to be all in your face, right? Giving them a small teaser is good enough!

Epel: Yeah… I think that'd be super cool…!

Deuce: You really surprised me. You look so meek, but you're really just as hot-blooded…!

Epel: Uh… So, uh, I've always been into these kinds of styles…

Deuce: If you like it, you should try wearing stuff like it. If you want, I can even introduce you to an awesome embroider.

Deuce: Oh, but I guess modifying our PE uniforms isn't really something an honor student should do…

Epel: Yeah, you're right. Plus, I bet my Housewarden would get pretty mad…

Deuce: Yeah, feels like Schoenheit-senpai would be even scarier than the professors when it comes to our uniforms…

Deuce: I bet he'd make you change out of it right away, saying it was hurting your dainty image.

Epel: …......

Epel: …Yeah. But maybe one day…

Requested by Anonymous.

[windienine]

been having a stressful last few days.

fangbattle is sick/stressed but we don't really know what's wrong. we were playing with her like usual on saturday night, wherein she was feeling a little agitated (chewing on plants and furniture) and we were trying to get her to use up all that nervous energy with the teaser toy.

she ran into the kitchen at one point and started chewing on the laundry rack, i picked her up, and she just reacted really strongly

hiss, bat, *scream.*

it's been three days now and she screams in terror whenever approached or called by name, like she's in a state of stress she can't come down from. luckily she's still eating and drinking and it's all moving through her, but i've only seen her this agitated during vet visits and in proximity to other cats.

she hasn't tried to bite or scratch me, and at night she even still jumps up on the bed and requests pets and snuggles like usual (nuzzles into your hand till you scritch her), but you can't even enter the same room or talk in a normal register without scaring her. in this state it's impossible to get her into a carrier, so karma put in an order for feliway to try and calm her down

i just don't know what's causing the stress feedback loop. karma's best guess is that she has a broken tooth/kitty cavity of some sort and is just in a lot of pain. if anyone else has ever dealt with a stressy sad kitty like this before, please advise? :(

[sehunniepotwrites]

RISK IT ALL | L.HC (teaser)

read the full fic here!

SYNOPSIS. In theory, playing a card game called Risk It or Drink It during your holiday kickback sounded fun. In reality, it was your group’s wild plot scheme for you and your close friend, Donghyuck, to finally get yourselves together in more ways than one. 

PAIRING. Lee Donghyuck x fem!Reader GENRE. Friends-to-Lovers!AU, Holiday!AU, Christmas!AU, Party!AU, comedy, smut (minors dni!) WORD COUNT. (teaser) 673, full fic estimate ~7k

WARNINGS. original character (Ari), language (crude sexual jokes, talks about sex positions, and profanities), alcohol and food consumption, adult drinking games with dares, explicit content (fingering, oral/sixty-nine, nipple play, praise, penetrative, missionary, etc.), nicknames (princess),  will add more once they come up! PLAYLIST. Up to You - PRETTYMUCH feat. NCT Dream

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

The moment you pulled the card, Donghyuck shifted his head to read the card with you. His body began to shake with laughter as the rest of your crew rushed you to reveal the dare. God, you were not drunk enough for this. He grabbed the paper out of your fingers and took the liberties of saying the dare, “Hold a piece of food in your mouth and have the person on your right,” he paused, grazing his soft fingers on your bare knee, “that’s me, princess—”

“Yes, I know my rights from lefts, Hyuck,” you interrupted him.

“—and have them take it from you.”

“I’m picking the piece of food you use and don’t you dare complain!” Ari yelled before anyone else could claim the job. Everyone watched as she stifled through a plate of French fries. Her playful grin expanded across her pretty face when she found the perfect fry—a thin, crispy piece that was around an inch long. The group exploded with excitement as she held it up. 

“That,” you pointed to the fry in your friend’s hand, “cannot be legal. That has to be against the rules!”

Jaemin pretended to examine the fry his girlfriend was holding. “Hmm, looks fine to me.”

“You’re a menace, Jaem,” you hissed at him.

Jaemin came right back, “Just doing what has to be done to take us out of our misery.”

With everything already set, you resigned to your friend’s wishes and begrudgingly accepted the dare. Ari handed you the tiny piece of food and you sighed dramatically before placing it between your teeth. It barely extended past your top and bottom lip. You shot Donghyuck a widened look, telling him to hurry. If you were to prolong this dare any longer, you were afraid of the fry breaking in your hold before he’d get to it. 

You stood still as Donghyuck approached with a smug look. It disappeared as soon as his eyes dropped to the french fry you held, lingering at the sight of your parted mouth. When he looked back up at you, there was a sort of look in the brown irises you were so attracted to. Hunger. Anticipation. 

“Lean in,” someone shouted but you couldn’t. 

Swallowing back your nervousness, his two warm hands touched your face, both molding to your cheeks. Shutting your eyes as he grew closer, the last thing you saw was his handsome face tilting to get a better angle. Donghyuck’s actions were lightning quick and sudden, making your heart beat skyrocket towards the moon. His breath tickled your skin and then, his lips brushed ever so gently against yours. It didn’t last too long; after all, his goal was to retrieve the french fry. You did your best to focus on that, remembering not to bite down to break the crunchy strip of food–the task at hand was hard but not impossible.

Then, there was a slight pressure, the plushness of his lips pushing into you as Donghyuck bit, tugging the food out of your mouth. 

Still frozen in your spot, you sensed Donghyuck pulling back. You exhaled through your nostrils and slowly opened your eyes. Your best friend was right in front of you, wearing a smirk as he chewed on the fry. He licked around his mouth, gathering the tiny dusts of salt before humming. “Salty,” was all he said while everyone surrounding  you laughed at his antics.

Ignoring the hammering of your heart as he continued to stare at your lips, you cleared your throat. As much as you tried to shove all feelings of attraction aside, Donghyuck kept his sultry gaze fixated on you. You watched as it dipped back down to your lips again, his fingers coming up to brush away the little specks of salt that stuck your mouth. Everything was too much for you–the warmth of his touch, the intensity of his stare, the looks the others were giving you–it was time to direct everyone’s attention elsewhere.

 “Next dare,” you called out, facing away from Donghyuck.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. Hi all! I'm back with a (shorter) one-shot! This Haechan brainrot has been sitting in my drafts since September. I was inspired by a hilarious but somewhat crude drinking game I played with my friends a while back. It's been a minute since I've written something with a lot of tension/smut but please let me know what you think. I've been obsessing over Haechan crying over Mark in the latest youtube contents that were released, so if you see some familiar lines, no you didn't <3

TAGLIST. @nctsworld @johtenrecs @emmybyeakitty @sokkigarden @hyuckworld @baekhyuns-lipchain @yutaholic-main @moonctzeny @suhrocs @smileysuh

tagging my usual friends <3 let me know if you would like to be added!

© sehunniepotwrites, 2023

[toseesoclearly]

ST5 "overall season plot" brain dump

I’m being driven moderately nuts by how we still do not know the overarching plot of ST5 or like, any confirmed details about it really. Things we’d gotten in past season promo cycles by this point (the ST3 Starcourt Mall/NYE teasers, ST4 character descriptions and the four storyline teasers, IDK about ST2 I wasn’t around for that) I think were much stronger fodder for sussing that part of the puzzle out. which tbf is maybe why they’re withholding them this time around.

But it's just so hard to really speculate without that larger framing, so this has not stopped my getting stuck on this. so I'm dumping a recent version of an attempt to think through that below - partially posting this to keep track of my own “theories” (that’s putting it too strongly lol) but I’d also love to hear what other people think/how you’re putting the kind of scant data we have on this together.

So, framing this as a kind of exploration of: what are those big “overarching season plot” details we’re missing, and what are some possibilities based on current available evidence for answers to those questions about the bigger picture?

(the below noodling contains spoilers for all ST5 spoilers we’ve gotten so far, through official or unofficial channels, so don’t read if you’re avoiding any part of that. if you're not caught up on any of the details cited here, I've been trying to keep track of that in a more detail-oriented way in a "ST5 Timeline" Google doc)

I. What is/are the precipitating event/s that cause the story to pick back up in November 1987?

Some options:

A. Vecna’s reemergence begins after he’s spent 1.5 years regrouping (maybe manifesting for our protags via Will’s Vecna connection-related distress accelerating, though if we know anything about Will it is that he is unlikely to volunteer that info to the group himself). What is Vecna’s grand plan, and how much have our protags figured out since we last saw them (both about the plan, and how to finally take him down)? B. Military “stabilization” of the mega-rift starts to show cracks, probably related to Point A. maybe makes the McCorkle Farm UD entry point possible?  C. Something is going on with the kids in Hawkins. Impossible to know at this point if the military’s interest in the elementary school kids is self-initiated or is caused by some kind of supernatural, probably Vecna-related phenomenon, since both military and Vecna seem to have their own separate but surely somehow related agendas wrt the kids. D. Linda Hamilton arrives in Hawkins, probably related to Point C (or maybe she’s been around and the Extended Party is just becoming aware of her/the specific danger she poses, maybe because of Point C) E. Supernatural-caused murder, disappearance, or some other kind of incident, resulting in probably military “forensics” team response, per early extras casting call. Also maybe weird “sickness” of some kind spreading through around Hawkins, considering how much time we seem to spend at the hospital and how Nancy is posted there as a candy striper. F. Supernatural/Vecna targeting of Holly, also probably related to Points A and C, though my current read is this starts up a little later than whatever the real “Ground Zero” launch point for this season is, mid or late ep 1 into ep 2 G. Some new development with Max’s condition? I have no other speculation on this because we've gotten so little on what's up with Max, but seems logical since her situation is probably thee dangling thread from the end of ST4 H. Probably not the precipitating event, but larger town response to whatever the precipitating event/s end/s up being also likely to be a driver, picking up the unresolved ST4 Hellfire Club witch hunt/Satanic Panic storyline

II. What is our protags’ response to this/these precipitating event/s?

A strong possibility is the proposal plan of a plan that the Party brands “The [Dungeon] Crawl." It seems like the enactment of a plan, “crawl” or not, is underway by midseason and has at least has a couple phases with the second phase being at least two-pronged (unsure if El + Hopper prong that splits off at the same time was intentional)

Phase One: “The Turnbow Trap” - they need something from the Turnbow mansion to enact Phase Two. Derek? Some information from a document in the Turnbows' possession? A key? IDK Phase Two: Group A - Upside Down: enter UD via a portal of some kind on the McCorkle Farm. in the UD, visit Lab, Church (Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin). Steve car's antenna may be installed specifically for this UD trip. Group B - Right Side Up: post up at the McCorkle Farm, access the downtown Hawkins military barracks (where the kids are) via the tunnels, end up going to the Hospital and Lab (Joyce, Will, Mike, Lucas, Erica, Robin, Murray, Erica, probably Vickie) Wildcard - Upside Down x2: Are Hopper and El in the UD part of the plan, or were they forced to split off? either way, they also seem to go to the Lab and the Church, but probably on a separate timeline than Group A (unless they meet up at one and go to the other location together?).

III.   What are our protags’ goals with the above plan?

Some options:

Save kids from military custody/possible experimentation

Locate and save Holly

Figure out the Max situation, revive her

Locate and take down Vecna

Solve remaining mysteries about the Upside Down and the Hawkins National Lab, especially as it relates to dealing with Vecna

I think the "sub-goals" to achieve all of these are probably more important for piecing together the big picture, but when I try speculating on those atp it starts to feel like I'm getting a little far afield of responding to the evidence we currently have. so this really basic list is a placeholder.

Appendix: Other important "season big picture" details

that didn't get mentioned anywhere else, woops

WSQK: something more is going on here than just it being the group HQ this season. what is it about a radio station that motivated that choice for our big new season location? (plus the car antennas, Mike keeping a not supercom radio close at hand biking/at school - so much radio equipment all over the place...)

Flashbacks, probably mindscape or vision-y, to Henry's past and Will's 1983 stint in the UD seem to occur throughout the season

[hansolmates]

[teaser] fly to my room

banner made by @eerieedits

summary; with a super huge crush on the super student jeon jungkook, you can't help but feel inferior with your subpar abilities when he's the literal hercules on campus. however, with a potential group of super villain students on the loose, you might have to tamp down your feelings to save your school pairing; superhero!jungkook x superhero support!reader (f) genre/warnings; sky high!au, university!au, mha!au, self deprecation lol, hero elitism, sidekicks can get bullied :(, strong man!jk, jk is a lil cocky and flirty, one lil sexy thing BUT that's it >:D w/c; preview is 561 a/n; no words just AAAAA

“Hey, watch out!” 

A metal discus is being blown through the wind, the cause being Jungkook who’s training on the hero’s side of the stadium. You can only stare wide-eyed, focusing on Jungkook’s arms, still poised mid-air from the throw. The discus is shiny and looks like it’s barely moving from the amount of speed Jungkook has curved onto it, but you close your eyes and push your hands out towards the hurling force. 

Bing! 

You feel the heavy hunk pass through your void, a wink in time that has you feeling dizzy as you try to refocus the exit portal. The speed is what gets you, and has you immediately sweating from your forehead as you force the object to rip back into the current dimension, the discus landing right at Jungkook’s feet. 

“That—was great!” Namjoon teleports right in your face, mouth huge with praise. He is grabbing your shoulders, shaking you frantically in his excitement. “Wow, did you see how fast that thing was going? Maybe it was a fight or flight response—obviously, Jungkook would’ve cut your neck open—” 

“Great visual, Namjoon—” 

“But you teleported it! Aren’t you proud?” 

There’s no time to be proud when Jungkook is bounding across the field to meet you in the sidekick section. It causes all the other Superhero Supports to stop a fraction in their training, wondering how this conversation will go. Namjoon continues to stick by you however, knowing how absolutely abysmal you are in the presence of the famed hero. Having talked to Jungkook once or twice in class, Namjoon begrudgingly understands what’s so charming about the guy. 

You’re too focused on the gilded appearance Jungkook brings to the stadium. His blond hair gleams in the sun, and the lightweight metal that protects his arms wraps around his muscles like liquid gold. He’s absolutely blinding. 

“We meet again,” Jungkook grins, “are you okay?” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you fight the urge to wince when Namjoon pinches your waist. 

“You’re a teleporter, right? Your reaction time was insane!” Jungkook is smiling at you, prattling off your stats with a fervor you fail to understand. “Maybe they can bump you up to Hero-Class next exam, I’m sure you’re not far from the cutoff.” 

“No, actually. I’m just trying to stay afloat,” you force a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair, “thanks though.” 

“I’ll put in a good word to Professor Luna,” Jungkook winks, turning away to return to his training session. 

“Jungkook’s right,” Namjoon squeezes your body again, trying to keep you in this dimension. “Your reaction time was insane. Can you imagine the power you’ll have when you finally gain control? Let’s go to the shooting range right now, test it out!” 

“Oh my god, he talked to me,” you whisper to yourself, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. Namjoon is but a spirit in your vision. 

“I mean, he had to. Like I said, he almost decapitated you,” he waves a hand in front of your face, “c’mon, stop thinking about Jungkook!”

“You're asking for the impossible, Joonie,” you frown, picking up your backpack. 

You take one step at a time, still feeling numb from the interaction. Namjoon insists that you should ride off this high, and train a little more. The only high you’re focusing on is the beating of your heart, and Jungkook’s gleaming grin. 

[sargepilled]

Okay; I HARDLY know how Tumblr works, or write on this app, but I was so sweetly tagged by the impossibly talented: @23fallencomets. I won’t be tagging anyone, but if you see this and have any WIPS I am absolutely advocating for you to post them for this little series and for you to tag me! This is very late, but I've finally got some time to post a little something, so take this.

Consider this the hintest of teasers for one of my project fics this summer. :)

(Sandwich) 2k words.

— LOSCAR: Based heavily off of the film “Dinner In America." With punk lead singer Oscar and neurodivergent Logan. SLIGHTLY NSFW.

After dinner, Logan escapes to his bedroom, which exists in a state of suspended animation, frozen in time like a museum exhibit dedicated to the concept of arrested development. The Star Wars posters on his walls are the same ones he hung when he was fourteen—The Empire Strikes Back, mostly, because Logan has always identified with characters who get their hands chopped off and discover that their fathers are evil.

There's a twin bed with a comforter his mom bought at Walmart during a back-to-school sale, blue and gray stripes that were probably fashionable in 2008, when having a Facebook account was still considered cutting-edge technology. A bookshelf holds his collection of racing magazines, issues of Racer and AutoWeek and Karting magazine that he can't bring himself to throw away but can't bear to read anymore, because every page reminds him of when he used to believe he belonged in those pages himself.

It's pathetic, Logan knows this, but it's also the only space in the house that belongs entirely to him. His parents stopped asking about redecorating years ago, stopped suggesting that maybe it was time to "update" his room to reflect his adult status. Logan suspects they're afraid of what they might find if they dig too deeply into his attachment to adolescent nostalgia, afraid of conversations about failure and growing up and what happens when your childhood dreams refuse to die quietly.

Logan lies on his back and stares at the ceiling fan, which makes the same click-click-click sound as the one downstairs. He counts the clicks like meditation beads, trying to find some rhythm or pattern that might make sense of the noise. Click-pause-click-pause-click, sixty clicks per minute, thirty-six hundred clicks per hour, a mathematical progression toward nothing in particular.

The fan has been broken for three years now, wobbling slightly with each rotation, but nobody bothers to fix it because fixing things costs money and hope in roughly equal measure. Logan has googled "ceiling fan repair" approximately fifty-seven times, has watched YouTube videos about blade balance and motor replacement, has even measured the fan to figure out what parts he would need. But research is easier than action, and action requires admitting that you care enough about your environment to try to improve it.

Logan isn't sure he's ready for that level of emotional commitment.

He thinks about Bradley, the kid from today, and his pristine racing suit that cost more than Logan's monthly salary. He thinks about his father's disappointed face across the dinner table, the way his eyes go distant when he talks about racing, like he's seeing ghosts that only he can recognize. He thinks about the stack of unpaid bills on his dresser that grows a little taller each month, despite his careful budgeting and his habit of eating peanut butter sandwiches for lunch to save money.

Mostly, though, he thinks about Oscar Piastri.

The memory always starts the same way—with Logan sitting alone at lunch on the first day of Ocala Karting Summer Camp, picking at a sandwich his mother had made with too much mayonnaise, watching the other kids form groups and alliances with the casual efficiency of children who've never doubted their right to belong somewhere.

Logan had been twelve and nervous, wearing a borrowed racing suit that was two sizes too big and carrying a helmet his father had bought secondhand from a driver who'd given up racing to sell insurance. Everything about him screamed amateur, from his mismatched gear to his anxious habit of constantly adjusting his gloves to make sure they fit properly.

Then Oscar Piastri had appeared at his table like a small, compact tornado, dropping his lunch tray with a clatter and sliding into the seat across from Logan without asking permission or waiting for an invitation.

"You're the new kid," Oscar had said, and it wasn't a question. His accent was thick and unfamiliar, all rounded vowels and sharp consonants that made every word sound like it mattered more than it probably did.

Oscar was everything Logan wasn't—confident to the point of arrogance, comfortable in his own skin in a way that seemed almost supernatural. He had dark hair that stuck up in all directions despite what must have been liberal applications of gel, and eyes that seemed to see everything at once—the loose chin strap on Logan's helmet, the way Logan's hands shook when he held his sandwich, the fact that Logan was trying very hard to look like he belonged when he clearly, obviously didn't.

"Logan," Logan had managed to say, around a mouthful of mayonnaise and anxiety.

"Oscar. You race much?"

"Some. Local stuff, mostly." Logan had tried to make this sound more impressive than it was, but Oscar's expression suggested that his efforts at casual competence weren't entirely successful.

"Right. Well, you look terrified, so you're either new or you're bad. Since you're sitting alone, I'm guessing new." Oscar had taken a bite of his apple with the kind of confidence that came from never having to worry about whether other people liked you. "Want to see something cool?"

And just like that, Logan had been absorbed into Oscar's orbit, pulled along by a gravitational force he didn't understand but couldn't resist. Oscar showed him the secret places around the camp—the spot behind the timing tower where cell phone reception was actually decent, the loose board in the fence that let you sneak out to the convenience store for candy, the best vantage point for watching the stars after lights-out.

But it was the racing that really mattered, the way Oscar could make a kart do things that shouldn't have been possible, coaxing speed and precision from machinery that seemed to respond to his touch like it was alive. Logan had been fast before, but Oscar taught him to be smooth, to think three corners ahead, to understand that racing wasn't just about going fast—it was about going fast at exactly the right moment, about patience and timing and the particular kind of courage that came from trusting your instincts even when your instincts told you to do something crazy.

"Racing's not about forcing the kart to do what you want," Oscar had said one afternoon, after Logan had spun out trying too hard to keep up. "It's about asking nicely."

They spent two weeks as inseparable as camp regulations would allow, sneaking out after lights-out to practice on the wet track in the dark, sharing stolen snacks from the dining hall, talking about everything except the obvious fact that they were both falling into something that felt bigger and more complicated than friendship.

Oscar told stories about Australia, about the go-kart track his uncle owned in Melbourne, about koalas that slept in eucalyptus trees and beaches that stretched for miles without a single person in sight. He talked about his parents' divorce with the casual brutality that children use to describe disasters they don't quite understand, explaining that sending him to Florida for the summer was probably the most civilized thing his parents had done for each other in years.

"I'm gonna be a Formula One driver," Oscar said one night, lying on his back in the grass behind the dining hall, staring up at stars that seemed close enough to touch. He said it with the absolute certainty of someone who had never been told that dreams were luxuries for other people's children.

"Me too," Logan had whispered, and for those two weeks, it had felt possible. With Oscar beside him, everything had felt possible.

"No, you're not," Oscar had said, but he'd said it gently, without cruelty. "You're too nice. Too worried about what everyone thinks. F1 drivers are bastards."

"You're not a bastard."

"Yes, I am." Oscar had turned to look at him in the moonlight, and his face had been serious in a way that made Logan's stomach flutter like he'd swallowed a live bird. "Watch."

And then Oscar had kissed him.

It was clumsy and desperate and tasted like the lemonade they'd stolen from the counselors' refrigerator, all teeth and tongue and the kind of hunger that twelve-year-old boys don't have words for. Logan's first kiss, delivered by a boy who tasted like artificial citrus and possibility, under a sky full of stars that seemed to be witnessing something important.

The kiss lasted maybe five seconds before they both pulled away, breathing hard and staring at each other like they'd just discovered fire or electricity or some other force that could change the world if handled improperly.

"See?" Oscar had whispered, and his voice was barely audible over the sound of cicadas and Logan's heartbeat hammering against his ribs. "Bastard."

Logan had reached for him, wanting more in ways he couldn't articulate, but Oscar was already scrambling to his feet, already backing away. "Oscar, wait—"

Oscar's fist had connected with Logan's jaw before he could finish the sentence. The punch wasn't hard enough to knock him down, but it was hard enough to split his lip and leave a bruise that lasted for a week. Logan sat there on the ground, tasting blood and confusion in equal measure, while Oscar stood over him with his hands clenched and his eyes bright with something that looked like panic.

"Don't," Oscar had said, and his voice cracked on the word like ice breaking under pressure. "Just don't."

He was gone before Logan could ask don't what?, disappearing into the darkness between the buildings like he'd never been there at all. Logan sat in the grass for what felt like hours, touching the tender spot on his jaw and trying to understand what had just happened, what he'd done wrong, why something that felt so right had ended with violence and confusion and the taste of his own blood.

The next morning, Oscar's bunk was empty. His parents had come to pick him up early—family emergency, the counselors said, something about his grandmother being sick in Australia. Logan never found out if that was true or if Oscar had called them himself, desperate for any excuse to put distance between himself and whatever had happened in the grass behind the dining hall.

And he'd stolen Logan's helmet. Logan only realized it was missing three days later, when he was packing his gear to go home. He'd searched everywhere—under his bunk, in the lost-and-found box, even in the dumpster behind the dining hall where he'd found Oscar sitting sometimes when he needed to be alone. But his helmet was gone, and so was Oscar, and Logan never saw either of them again.

For years, Logan wondered why Oscar had taken it. The helmet wasn't anything special—just a basic white Arai with blue trim and a collection of stickers they'd accumulated over the two weeks. A sloth wearing sunglasses that Logan had found in a gas station vending machine. A faded OCALA KARTING decal. The number 81, which had been Oscar's favorite because it was 18 backwards and he'd thought that was clever.

Logan had convinced himself that Oscar kept the helmet as a memento of their friendship, as proof that those two weeks had meant something to someone other than just him. It was a romantic notion, the kind of story Logan told himself late at night when loneliness felt like a physical weight pressing down on his chest.

Now, lying in his childhood bedroom with his hand drifting toward the waistband of his boxers, Logan lets himself remember the good parts. The way Oscar's mouth had felt against his, warm and soft and tasting like summer. The weight of Oscar's hand in his hair, fumbling but eager, like he was trying to memorize the texture. The sound of Oscar's voice in the darkness, low and teasing: You're too nice.

Logan closes his eyes and lets the memory wash over him, lets his hand slip under the elastic of his underwear as he thinks about what might have happened if Oscar hadn't pulled away, if that kiss had lasted longer, if Oscar hadn't gotten scared and ended everything with a punch that Logan still feels sometimes when the weather changes. If they'd grown with one another. Still kept in contact.

He's always been gentle with himself, careful and methodical even in this most private of acts, because Logan has never learned to be rough with anything he cares about.

His breathing gets shallow as he strokes himself slowly, thinking about what Oscar's crooked smile might look like now at their current age, about the way his accent made Logan's name sound like music and what it'd sound like now with maturity, about the night when everything felt possible and nothing felt impossible.

Logan bites his lower lip to stay quiet, a habit left over from years of sharing thin walls with family members who don't need to know about his private moments. He's close now, close enough that his vision starts to blur around the edges and his free hand grips the comforter tight enough to leave wrinkles.

He's so lost in memory and sensation that he doesn't hear the footsteps in the hallway until it's too late, doesn't register the sound of his bedroom door opening until Dalton's voice cuts through his private moment like a fire alarm.

"Logan, you decent? We're going—oh, fuck, sorry."

Logan scrambles for the bedsheet, his face erupting in heat that has nothing to do with the broken air conditioning. His heart hammers against his ribs like it's trying to escape, and for a moment he can't breathe properly, can't think of anything except the horrible awareness that his brother just witnessed his most private ritual.

"Jesus, Dalton, knock!" The words come out strangled and higher than usual, and Logan pulls the sheet up to his chin even though it's approximately three seconds too late for modesty.

"My bad." Dalton doesn't look remotely sorry. In fact, he looks like someone who's just won the lottery and can't wait to spend the money. There's a grin spreading across his face that Logan recognizes from childhood, the same expression Dalton used to get when he caught Logan doing something embarrassing like crying during Bambi or practicing dance moves from music videos when he thought no one was watching.

"But this is actually perfect timing," Dalton continues, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow makes everything worse. "Because we're going out."

[magalidragon]

a white wood | a Jonerys ghost story | teaser

Enjoy this teaser for a fic that is very, very loosely inspired by Casper. Yes, that one. 👻

"Um...I...forgive me, I've never spoken to a ghost before...do I call you..."

"You can call me Jon." He smiled again; this time the corners of his eyes crinkled, and she briefly saw a young man in the strained, weathered face of someone who seemed to have lived too many lifetimes for someone his age. "And this is my first time speaking with someone of the...lively persuasion, so forgive me as well."

She nodded, not even realizing that Ghost had walked over to join him. "Ah...I take it he belongs to you?"

"Oh aye, Ghost has been with me for...well, a very long time." He cocked his head; one of the springy curls fell from where it had been tucked behind his ear and she had a strange urge to go pull it; even though that was impossible. "What do I call you? Daenerys?"

"Dany." She closed the book she'd been reading, folding her hands on top of it. "You can call me Dany."

He nodded curtly. "Dany."

They stared at each other for a few silent moments, until she couldn't take it any longer, exploding in excitement, jumping to her feet. "I cannot believe this is happening, all this time, I'm actually speaking to a spirit...I...I don't understand, you can pick up things, you can...you can write and communicate...I don't..." She pushed her hands through her hair, which was already standing on all ends, exclaiming, "Why me!?"

Jon looked up, blinking like it was an obvious answer. "Because you believe."

Believe. “That's it?" she whispered. That...was very simple. "I believe in you?"

"You believe in things that have no explanation. I can communicate but...not quite as well as I can with you. This is the first time anyone has ever truly seen me." His smile faded and a blanket of melancholy draped over him. "Not that people want to...my name has been lost for centuries. You know it. That helps."

Don't bother him. That's what Sam said. "But Samwell Tarly knows about you?" she asked.

"Sort of. He knows I am here. I don't like people bothering...things." To her shock, he exhaled hard. Except he was a ghost so clearly it was just habit and not out of necessity. "There are things in these walls...along the Wall itself...I knew you were different when you came. Are you here to bring back the dead?"