#in her crayon thought bubble style

[bluestation]

[shveris]

malibu

mysta was scared of the ocean but he was glad shu brought him to the beach.

tags: bubble tea shop au, strangers to lovers, my writing style drifts into the poetry area some times good luck deciphering that

chapter two: i

the way he jumped at the soft vibrations of his phone made mysta groan internally. since when was he so desperate?

shu: it was okay, today was busier than usual :(

mysta: damn prolly cuz of the fair

shu: ahh yea u might be right mr detective

mysta: 🕵🏻 !!

the brunette put his phone away to bury his face in his pillow. exchanging number with shu was the bravest thing he has done since asking that one girl in kindergarten for the black crayon, just to get scolded for making her cry. at least shu didn’t seem to mind texting him every now and then, even replying during his shifts and sending him pictures of drinks he made for himself.

it may have only been a week but mysta felt like shu has always been a part of his life; a constant, flowing with each other like waves (rocking back and forth in a steady and unchanging rhythm) and he felt so incredibly ridiculous for thinking about that innocent angel in that way. he didn’t even swear or curse, he’d notice, and it made his chest arch in a way he can’t seem to explain to himself even.

every word shu exchanged with him gave him a certain sense of nostalgia and comfort, his voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket during london’s grey winter and mysta felt like the world would finally be at peace with shu existing next to him.

his phone vibrated, startling him once again.

shu: wanna go to the fair tmrw? c:

mysta could hear the rushing of his own blood in his ears, forgetting to breathe for a second while hovering his thumbs above his keyboard. he was sure the train of thoughts he followed a split second ago, had just vanished into thin air, along side any other coherent words of the english language inside his brain.

mysta: yea!

mysta: dont u have work tho?

shu: o yea u can pick me up at 8:40

mysta: sounds goodd

everything inside his mind was racing; racing against the suddenly rapid beating of his heart; the realization of spending an evening with shu trying to kick in. does this count as a date?, he asked himself, trying to calm down.

he sat up in his bed, combing a hand through his ash brown hair. mysta felt like he was sinking into the pit of his darkest thoughts, low self-esteem nagging at every inch of his skin — sickness was setting at the pit of his stomach, adrenaline making him dizzy.

mysta knew he had to keep himself grounded, but not at the bottom of the ocean. long nails with chipped black paint leaving red lines on the skin of his throat and the soft burn of it reminded him of diving down too deep, the lack of air making him lightheaded in a way he’d never enjoy.

when mysta left the house the next evening, nina was nowhere to be seen (not that he would care because he didn’t) and the summer sun was still out and very much too bright for him — at least malibu was giving him good reasons to wear his sunglasses again because the uk surely didn’t — but he could handle it now.

the shop still had all its lights on, though the sign at the door said “closed” and shu, on the inside, was wiping down the tables while one of his co-workers stood at the sink. mysta wasn’t sure if he was allowed to enter so he softly knocked on the glass of the door. shu shot him a happy smile and a thumbs up before he turned around, speaking to his colleague.

two minutes passed before the ravenette came out of the store, a small bag strapped around his chest. they awkwardly looked at each other before mysta remembered “this might be a bloody date” and offered shu open arms, a shy invitation for a hug, and how could shu ever say no to a blushing mysta.

“how was your shift?”, the ashen asked after they parted, feeling awfully stiff — mysta will probably never get used to physical touch as he grew up without it, and strange things scared him, but the bad attempt at small talk could’ve also been a reason for the sudden amount of stress. to his relief, shu answered with a genuine smile and words, and it felt like a dream come true, that’s how deep mysta had his head in the ocean.

the walk to the fair was short, filled with a light breeze, warm words, lucid laughter. the bright and colored lights of the venue made shu look like a painting mysta could stare at for hours and he’d never get tired of it.

seagulls around were patiently waiting for opportunities to strike for food, screaming children and loud voices went blurry in a hunch the closer they got.

mysta would be lying if he’d say he liked those kinds of events — with a lot of people, colors, sounds, smells —, most of the time he avoided them for the sake of not getting sensory overloaded. but tonight, he could feel it, would be different. tonight he had shu with him, shu who took away all his attention, even on the ferris wheel when they could look over all of malibu; all the way to point dume while catching the silhouettes of the santa monica mountains, with the channel islands and santa barbara to the other side.

the various food stalls did a great job at making mysta a poor man, which was also partly his fault since he insisted on paying for everything (much to shu’s disagreeing (cute) pout). they had also found a takoyaki stand and after tasting their food, the ravenette had told mysta he could make better ones at home, which he took for a future invitation and, perhaps, a second date.

the sky above was dark and clear, mysta had asked to put his sunglasses into shu’s bag and he could only see a few stars above them, the lights of the city cancelling out magic he liked to watch when in the uk; the part of london he lived in was small and not as lively as malibu. over the years the brunette taught himself to love the loneliness those suns, constellations and galaxies would grace him with. the sky felt wide and open, he could see danger approaching, he could prepare himself to get lost — the ocean on the other hand was blurry, filled with pressure and everything humanity didn’t dare touch.

“frick.” the ravenette looked over his shoulder, someone had run into him and didn’t even apologize. mysta didn’t like how packed it was but chaos was a natural occurrence when it came to darkness, he should know and shu knew it better.

“c’mere”, mysta shuffled as close as he could to shu and grabbed his hand, he was so scared of losing shu in the crowd — it would mean getting a panic attack in the middle of a dozen people, strangers, people he didn’t know- oh god, why were there so many people? air, where was all the air all of the sudden? why did he even say yes to this? this was an awful idea, he should leave, immediately-

“let’s go over here”, shu swiftly intertwined their fingers, dragging the ashen through the stream of chatter to a more open area with activity booths and arcade machines. his brows were furrowed when he looked at mysta’s face in the dim light the lanterns and decorations offered: “deep breaths, deep breaths.” shu’s free hand made up and down movements with every breath he took, hoping the visualization would help mysta. people passing them looked at shu with judging gazes, and usually he would go hide somewhere the sun would never reach, but mysta’s panicked expression felt like a hit to the stomach.

“okay, okay”, the ashen whispered after he felt more stable again, “okay, i’m okay.”

“you are, you’re doing well. i’m here, i gotchu.” shu looked at him with so much innocent determination, it washed away the strain on mysta’s lungs. his sunset eyes stared into shu’s before he was starting to take in his surroundings again.

“let’s relax a bit”, the ravenette grinned, relieved, before giving mysta’s hand a gently squeeze — and both of them didn’t want to let go of each other — before dragging him to a stand that seemed to be advertising goldfish catching.

they watched each other play their rounds, giddy laughter whenever the little fish managed to jump or wiggle off the flimsy scoop net and in the end neither of them managed to get a good catch (or any catch, really).

mysta wasn’t quite surprised when he found out shu was above averagely skilled at crane games although he still couldn’t stop himself from staring at the ravenette in awe. mysta was holding onto their sixth pokémon plush toy and he could already feel all the kids around them staring in envy.

“another one, let’s gooo, babyyy”, shu presented a snorlax to the brunette and maybe it was the way his eyebrows rose or how he hold it up to him, but mysta couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small laugh.

“come on”, shu grinned and helped the other one with carrying the different plushies. mysta looked at him, puzzled: “where to?”

“the kids will eat you up alive if we won’t share some of our prizes”, the ravenette giggled and mysta swore someone just stabbed him with amor’s arrow, right through his chest, into his fast beating heart.

it didn’t even take them five minutes to hand out all the toys and when it came down to the last one, shu insisted in keeping it. mysta didn’t mind, he won it himself and he personally had no need for more plushies as his bed at home in the uk was already overflowing with those.

“so vulpix is your favorite pokémon?”, mysta grinned but instead of answering, shu’s face flushed bright red, which mysta didn’t even notice due to all the different colored lights painting the scene like they were in a dreamy movie.

“y- yeah!” mysta had to stifle a giggle, shu was an awful liar.

after about two hours shu could feel exhaustion settle in his bones, he bet he could stay longer if it weren’t for his shift. walking and standing around started to hurt his feet and his legs felt heavy to a point where they had to sit down on one of the benches for some rest.

“i’ll bring you home once you feel be’er again”, the ashen said and the tone in his voice was unfamiliar to shu, though he didn’t dislike it. he’s never heard such a determent mysta so he welcomed the change of air, feeling glad to be seen as trusted enough to see an unfiltered version of his new friend.

“sure”, shu smiled, tired but still welcoming, “we can walk along the beach, i live nearby.” mysta got up, dusted off his pants, and offered his hand to the other. shu grabbed it without hesitation and thanked him after getting pulled up. their fingers intertwined automatically and the both of them enjoyed the subtly touch of warmth, the secure feeling it gave them. they were each others life boats, softly seesawing on a never ending navy fabric between the stars mysta never got to reach and the salty water shu had seen one too many times in his life.

once they walked off the fair, the loud chatter got drowned in beach sounds. they had to cross a small plastered part with vehicles parking left and right, trailers attached to most of them. mysta was almost fascinated with the bizarre sight until a group of four men stopped them in their path.

mysta may have grown up in a secluded area of london, but distance had never stopped gangs. this wasn’t the first time he’s encountered gang members and it will never be his last — simply because he did not possess something even close to luck — so his first instinct was stepping in front of shu. there was no way he’ll let them harm the obsidian haired and if this would be some of those crazy cliché manga he read in his spare time, he’d stab out their eyes because “how dare they lay their eyes on an angelic being like shu yamino”.

“you’re kosaka’s kid, right?”, one of them asked and mysta got upset at the darkness he usually loved to bathe in because right now, he couldn’t see shit, only the silhouettes of four strongly build men with shoulders wider than his fridge.

“kosaka’s what?”, the ashen asked in confusion, dragging shu behind him even closer to his back (and to be really honest with himself: the weird angle his arm was at began to hurt him), trying to shield him away.

“don’t play stupid, boy, we saw you with her multiple times. even the color of your hair is similar.” oh. oh. they meant nina. mysta completely forgot about her last name as he associated it with his dad; all memories and information in relation to him got shoved into the back of his mind when he was old enough to understand that he was the reason his mom cried every evening for three years.

“i seriously don’t know who you’re talking about, i don’t know no kosaka or wha’ever you mean, dude”, he explained slowly, eyes narrowed, tone cold and careful. what did these men want and how was his weird aunt related to this? for christ’ sake, he didn’t even know the name of the street she lived in.

“he’s a good liar, you have to give him that!”, another guy laughed with a raspy tint in his voice, as if his throat was made out of rough corned sandpaper — it wasn’t, mysta knew, he was just a smoker and a heavy one at that, too —, “let’s just get him, she’ll react instantly.”

get him? get? as in “kidnap”? oh hell nah.

mysta’s legs were faster than the four men’s thinking process’ as he death gripped shu’s hand and ran back to the fair, into the clutter of people. the yells behind him doubled in volume and amount since mysta did not really care about the three kids he just ran over or the middle aged woman with her portion of overpriced fries.

they fought themselves through the crowd, taking turns and corners over and over; if mysta was good at something, it was mind games. he knew how to trick people, knew how to get rid of them, knew how to fuck them up real good if necessary. and for mysta, shu was his top priority and after looking over his shoulder to make sure shu wasn’t about to pass out, all he saw was a determent expression and parted lips, a small sign to the pathway to success.

they never let go of each other because if they would drown, shu was there to stop them and mysta knew that reaching for the stars would keep them afloat for a while.

chapter 1 / 3 / 4

the fic on ao3 and my twitter

[helpimhyperfixating]

Mother’s Day - Jotaro x Reader

Is it mother’s day? Absolutely not, but people are nice to me so here is a cute fic

Word Count: 1844

Stretching softly in your barely awake state, you softly reached your hand to your right, only to sleepily open one eye. Your husband wasn't sleeping there where he usually would be.

Shrugging it off, you just rolled onto your right side and curled a little in on yourself, missing the warmth he usually gave you. Did you steal his warmth every day and bully him by putting your freezing cold feet and hands on him? Yes. Did you regret it? No. Did you wish he was here now so you could put your freezing feet under his shirt and on his stomach or back? Absolutely yes.

While musing about your cold feet however, you already slowly drifted off to sleep again. It was Sunday, there was no reason to get up.

- - - -

Tapping on your nose and cheek suddenly brought you out of dreamland, making you groan softly.

"C'mon, Jojo. Wake mommy." You heard that being whispered in the familiar voice of your husband, followed by an attempted hushed giggle. Your cheeks were then grabbed and squished together into a fish face, making you groan once more as you rolled onto your back.

Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with the adorable sight of Jotaro holding Jolyne, his hands on her torso as he held her hovering over you while she held the biggest of smiles, having her hands on your cheeks as she kept smushing them together repeatedly.

A distorted chuckle left your lips and Jolyne was set onto your stomach, making her let go of your cheeks. "Morning." You sleepily drawled. You never really were a morning person.

Jolyne's bubble seemed to be unable to hold and, as she practically vibrated of excitement while she sat on your stomach, it burst. The little girl flung herself forward, practically knocking the wind out of you while wrapping her arms around your neck and burying her head into the pillows behind you, screaming, "Happy Mama Day!"

Shocked, you automatically put your arms back around the girl, hearing Jotaro softly chuckle from besides the bed. "'Mother's Day' Jolyne, it's Mother's Day."

"Oh." Jolyne sat up, now sitting on your chest as she looked down at you. "Happy Mother's Day!" She shouted, shooting her hands high up into the air as if in a 'tadaa and surprise!'

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you looked to the left to see Jotaro with a rare soft smile on his face, now holding a tray. Honestly, you had no clue that Mother's Day was even coming, so to say you were surprised was an understatement.

"What's all this?" You asked, the disbelief audible in your voice, making both Jolyne and Jotaro grin a little wider.

"Surprise." Jotaro spoke softly before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Trying to copy her dad, Jolyne put her hands on your windpipe, leaning her full weight on it and cutting off your air supply briefly as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your head too before sitting back up, shuffling her butt a bit to sit comfortably on your chest while beaming a smile.

Despite the brief loss of air, you couldn't help the giant grin that spread on your face.

You opened your mouth to speak something when Jolyne suddenly gasped loudly, putting both of her little hands over your mouth, crossed over one another.

"Daddy! We forgot 'it'!" She whispered loudly while looking at her father; as if the hands over your mouth were supposed to keep you from hearing her speak.

"Go get it then." He encouraged and Jolyne immediately jumped into action, lifting her hands from your face before getting off of your chest as if dismounting a horse, carefully sliding and hanging off the bed until she got onto the floor, immediately taking off and disappearing from the bedroom, leaving you and Jotaro.

Shaking his head, Jotaro got closer and you sat up in response, resting against the headboard so that he could place the tray on your lap.

Once it was situated and he was sure the tea wouldn't spill, he gently took your chin between his forefinger and thumb and tilted your head towards him, pressing a soft and loving kiss on your lips.

"Good morning." He mumbled softly after pulling away a bit, looking into your eyes.

"Morning." You replied, the smile returning to your face.

"You had no idea it was today, did you?" Jotaro spoke, his face still so close to yours.

"Absolutely no clue." You admitted. "But it adds to the surprise!"

"Mommy!" Jolyne shouted as she came sprinting back inside, nearly dive-bombing onto your bed if it wasn't for Jotaro's quick reaction who grabbed her mid-air.

Not even caring that she was grabbed and now hanging in the air, Jolyne was giggling, firmly holding onto a piece of paper and waving it in front of your face, not giving you the opportunity to properly look at it.

"I made this for you!" She called out and you took the drawing from her. As you moved it back from your face a bit so you could properly look at it, Jotaro pulled Jolyne back and just carried her rugby style as he walked to the other side of the bed, putting Jolyne down on the foot of it while he himself lifted the covers and slid back under.

Immediately, Jolyne crawled over to you both, worming her way in between before Jotaro could slide up against you and starting to try and get under the covers with you both.

You giggled softly at her while Jotaro good-naturedly rolled his eyes, helping her lift the covers in the end. Once she was situated, he let the blanket go again, the three of you now sitting underneath it, leaning up against the pillows and headboard of the bed.

"This is already really well made, Jolyne!" You suddenly spoke up and she looked up at you, a large and happy smile on her face. "Can you tell me what I am looking at here, I would love to hear the artists thoughts." You spoke as if you were a reporter, leaning down slightly and tilting the drawing so that all three of you could look at it.

There was a good reason you had subtly asked Jolyne to explain. Because, while the drawing itself was very much appreciated by you, you couldn't exactly make out what your daughter had tried to draw.

"That's you. You're a mermaid." She pointed to the figure with a tail on the middle. That was indeed the one thing you had been able to decipher. "That is me." She then pointed to a red blob with several branch-like lines coming out of it.

"And what are you?"

"I'm an omctopus!" She cheered happily, still unable to pronounce the word correctly, or just flat out refusing to now, despite how often Jotaro had tried to correct her. "Cause I can now be sneaky and grab so many things at once with all my arms!" She smirked evilly, rubbing her hands together as if concocting an evil scheme right then and there.

"Ah, that makes sense." You chuckled a little nervously. "And... this?" You hovered your finger over the last figure on the drawing. You already knew it had to be Jotaro, not only because of process of elimination, but mainly because of the white hat that sat atop the brown crayon mass.

"That's daddy. He's a walrus 'cause he's so big and always warm."

Jolyne held such a cute and innocent look and you couldn't help but just burst out laughing at her statement, absolutely losing at and nearly knocking over the tray with breakfast on your lap as you howled.

Luckily for you, Jotaro was not offended and had the brain to lift the tray away from you, allowing you to move as you wished as you laughed, clutching your stomach.

"You don't like it?" Jolyne asked when you calmed down a little and you immediately turned to her, gently grasping her face while still giggling.

"No, Jolyne, I love it. This is the best Mother's Day gift." You smiled and kissed her nose, making her scrunch it up before happily beaming at you, quickly turning to her dad when you let go of her face.

"Aha! My gift was better!" She boasted, pointing at him.

"Well, I can't compete with a walrus and an octopus now, can I?" Jotaro spoke while holding the most deadpan expression, making you try so hard to stifle your giggling again. Jotaro then huffed a bit in amusement and set the tray back down, one half of it now on your leg and the other half on his own, making it hover over Jolyne's lap - to which she happily took hold as if she was the one to keep it steady and in place. "Here is my inferior gift. Even though it is from both Jolyne and me." Jotaro said as he reached his hand over Jolyne and to you, passing you a small box.

Gently taking the box from his fingers, you sent him a grateful smile. "Thank you." You softly said. This was already way more than you ever could have expected. Hell, you didn't even know it was coming.

Grasping the small box with both hands now, you slowly lifted the top to reveal plush padding. On top, sat a beautiful bracelet; the silver chord holding an intricate pattern while the focal point of the jewellery was undoubtedly the three beads in the centre. All of them see through, two of the beads were a little larger; an aquamarine one and a silver one, the both of them encasing a smaller green bead that sat snuggly between the others.

Your little family.

A soft 'awe' escaped you and you looked up at Jotaro, your eyes a bit glossy. "Thank you." You softly spoke and Jotaro leaned over Jolyne to press a soft kiss to your lips, shielding her eyes with his large hand so she wouldn't see. Once he pulled away and leaned back, removing his hand from Jolyne's eyes, the little girl was pouting grumpily at her father. "I love this so much." You started, eyeing your daughter to see her deflate a bit, the pout turning less angry and more disappointed. "But nothing can compete with me as a mermaid." You spoke and Jolyne lit up again at your words.

"Queen of the mermaids!" She then called out and you raised your brows up.

"Queen even?"

"Mhm!" Jolyne nodded in confirmation. "I made you the queen!"

"Oh, well then definitely nothing can compete with that." You giggled, smirking a little as you glanced at Jotaro who just held a tiny soft smile as he looked at the scene in front of him.

He then noticed your stare and snapped out of it, clearing his throat. "How about breakfast?"

"Oh, well, maybe that can compete with it."

"Nooooo! Mommy!"

[marlahey]

under the same roof part three: all the time you need

a harry styles rpf part three of six written by annie and aj (marlahey and formerly harryonstage) ratings/warnings: disaster gays, endangered ovaries from dad!harry, women aggressively supporting women notes: enter the rest of harry’s family unit! in case anyone’s curious, annie tells sylvia to give her dad a kiss in vietnamese, to which he responds, good girl. before anyone comes for me, there will be plenty more opportunities for bed-sharing to come. side note: aj always pictured olivia coleman as officer warren.  masterlist | part one | part two | part four (21.12.20)

............................................... • saturday, 5th january 9:18 am • The second time you’re roused from sleep, sunlight illuminates Harry’s room. You lift your head, squinting, but more quickly you recognize where you are.

Harry is nowhere in sight, but a fresh glass of water is within reach on the nightstand, and a cardigan knitted with primary-colored patches lies folded at the foot of the bed. After slipping your arms through the loose sleeves, you take a few gulps of water and make sure to shut his bedroom door quietly on your way out. You hadn’t spent much time in the living room as per Officer Warren’s instructions to avoid the windows, but you can see into it from the hall. And since there’s still no sign of Harry, you take a minute to discreetly look around at the place he and his daughter call home. His flat is obviously larger than yours—he has two bedrooms versus one—but the morning light seems to stretch the space even further, like an open armed welcome. The atmosphere bustles with a little dose of chaos. Two brimming bookshelves span one wall of the living room, and plants line the windowsills. A half-sized Christmas tree stands off in the corner, wrapped in twinkly lights and strings of popcorn. A white fender guitar decorated with various stickers stands with a speaker beside the couch, and records tile the wall behind it: Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, The Stones, The Cars, Hello I’m Dolly.  There is ample evidence that a child lives here, too. The walls are dotted with drawings in watercolor, crayon, and sparkles. You can see pieces of Lego strewn out on the carpet; they must be from that towering box Harry had towed into the lift a week before Christmas. A small smile tugs at your lips as you follow the smell of espresso into the kitchen. You find Harry leaning against the counter looking contemplative, holding aloft a cup of coffee that he seems to have forgotten about. He’s wearing the same shirt he’d slept in, but thrown on a pair of joggers. You bid a quiet, “Good morning.” He inhales sharply as his head whips toward you, his drink sloshing over the edge of his mug slightly. “Jesus, sorry,” he laughs softly, shaking his head at himself. You watch as he wets a dishrag and cleans the small mess. “Not really used to company my age.” “Oh… Sorry.” “S’alright.” His voice is covered in sleep; it almost sounds like he has a cold. “Coffee?” You hum appreciatively. “Love some.” “Were you able to get some sleep?” he asks, pulling a mug from the cabinet. “Enough, yeah.” All you can think about is waking up locked in his embrace, on the still-dark cusp of sunrise. “Thank you for letting me, um…” “Course. Cream?” “That’s great, thanks.” Harry nods over his shoulder towards the bedroom. “It help at all?” How are you supposed to answer that? “The real bed?” he clarifies, like it is at all necessary.  You listen to the spoon clink rhythmically against the ceramic, and settle on “I think so,” as noncommittally as possible. “How did you sleep?” “Very well.” In passing you your mug, Harry catches your eyes for the first time today in a way that feels like not an accident. “More importantly, how are you feeling about everything else?” You shrug, eyes glued to the cream swirling in your coffee. “Better, a little.” “That’s good.” “What about you?” you ask. “You’ve kinda been through the wringer, yourself.” “I’m good, yeah.” Harry pushes up his glasses. “I was thinking—if you don’t mind—I’d like to come with you to the police department this morning.”  “No, no, Harry.” You wave away the offer. “Don’t worry about that.” “No, really. It might make more sense. I saw him in the hall last night, and I was with you in the lift. They might need to ask some questions of both of us.” You consider this a moment. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” “I don’t have to,” Harry counters. “I want to. I want you to, y’know… ” he trails off. “I want them to get this guy.” You blink at him. There’s a strange feeling in knowing that Harry has clearly thought about your wellbeing beyond the night that you’ve effectively been trapped in his flat. Regardless, it’s too early for a battle of wills, and he has a point. You slouch against the fridge. “Alright. Well… I still have India’s car so I can drive us,” you concede. A smile lights Harry’s face. Suddenly your stomach rumbles so powerfully and for so long that it interrupts the conversation. You cover a small, mortified laugh with both hands as Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Well,” he begins, exaggerated. “Let’s take care of that… You take the first turn in the bathroom, I’ll fix us some breakfast.” “You sure?” “Go ahead.” He grabs a skillet from the drying rack, turning on one of the burners. “Thank you, Harry.” “It’s no problem.” You wash your face with something you find above the sink and brush your teeth on auto-pilot before considering your bundle of clothes from the night before. Your cardigan lays at the top of the stack. Four of your fingers fit through the gaping hole in its collar, and dirt covers one of the sleeves. You hadn’t forgotten about the shape it was in last night, but you didn’t consider it a problem until now, as you hold it up in front of you by the shoulders, frowning. You try to tame your hair with a purple, sparkly brush to no avail, so you take a quick look around to see if Sylvia has any spare barrettes or pins. Thankfully there’s a single hair tie floating in the bottom of your purse. You shrug back into Harry’s patchwork sweater—oddly comforting in how fully it swallows your shoulders and hands—and slip back out to the kitchen, where Harry plates grilled tomatoes and bacon. “We’re about ready to eat.” Harry turns the stovetop down to a simmer as the toaster pops. “How do you take your eggs?” “Sunny side up, please.”  He salutes you with his spatula, attention already returned to the pan.  “Can I help with anything?” Harry nods to a drawer. “Yeah can you pass us a couple napkins from just there? I’ll be right back,” he rushes, already halfway out of the kitchen. You pull a few paper napkins from their packet as he returns with two chairs that you recognize from his small wicker table. “Blinds are open in the other room, thought it might be best if we just eat in here.” He sets the chairs apart, facing one another. “Now this is living,” you deadpan. Harry laughs lightly as he gestures for you to sit. The two of you get adjusted with your plates on your lap, and your knees almost bump in the small space. “This is great, Harry. Thank you.”  “I’d make you bubble and squeak, too, but we’re fresh out and Sylvia hates beans so we don’t keep them on hand. So technically...” Harry lowers his voice to a whisper. “S’not a full English fry up.” You can only smile around your mouthful, unexpectedly endeared. The rest of breakfast passes in silence. You shouldn’t have slept on an empty stomach; you’re ravenous from skipping a meal last night.  He looks up at you eventually, a touch more serious than before. “Shall we think about heading to the police station soon?”  You dab your mouth with your napkin and nod. Harry stands from his chair and reaches an open hand down to you for your plate. “No, no,” you nudge him away with your elbow. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”  “Let me deal with these. You’re a guest.” “I’m a captive.” “No you’re not! You’re—” He breaks off, hesitating a moment before plunging on with an amused slant to his lips. “You’re my sort-of friend.” Your assumption he hadn’t overheard that comment to your mother last night on the phone was clearly in vain. You press your lips together against any inadvertent reaction. Your head swivels toward him, eyes full of lighthearted reproach. “Look, just let me do the dishes to give myself the illusion that I’m not just a freeloader here. Besides, I’m already ready to go.” "Fine,” he caves disapprovingly. “I’ll get myself sorted and be out in a minute.” “Take your time.” While Harry is preoccupied, you finish slotting the clean plates from breakfast carefully into the drying rack and pull out your phone to message India. Hey, I have a lot to update you on but it’ll be much easier to explain in person. I still have your car and I need it for one thing this morning but I promise I’ll fill the tank ASAP. It’s about the guy that’s been following me. Just know that I’m safe and everything’s okay. I’ll call you when I can. Love you. Send. That’ll have to do for now. Harry returns in jeans and a sweater. It’s still strange to see him so dressed down. “Ready?” he asks. “Yeah. You mind if I wear this to the police station?” you ask, pinching the fabric of his cardigan. You feel the urge to explain yourself—the hole in your sweater, the grime—but Harry’s already shaking his head. “Not at all. Do you maybe want something a little less… loud? I don’t even wear that one out, myself, really.”  You consider the bright cacophony of color like it’s brand new to your eyes. Loud is right. “Yeah, that’s not a terrible idea.”  Harry’s lips twitch. “C’mon then. You’re welcome to pick anything you’d like.” Pick? You nod because you’re worried the surprise is painted on your face. “Okay.” Harry leads you to his bedroom again, and over to the large wooden wardrobe.  He pulls the double doors open and you cannot help yourself from gawking a little. You’re taken by all the exquisite patterns and intricate textures of the suits, but it’s oddly wistful to run your fingertips along all of them hung in a row. You smile privately, a bit removed. “What?” Harry laughs from behind you. “Nothing!” you reply, glancing over your shoulder before saying more softly, “I just recognize some of these.” “Oh, thought you were sizing them up. My mates all take the piss… They say my suits are eccentric.” He rolls his eyes, reciting the insult like he’s quoting their words verbatim. You turn back around to his closet. “I think they look nice—I think you look nice in them.” You take a step back and crane your neck to the shelf of folded sweaters above the hanging rod. The extensive array of muted wool and cotton is a bit overwhelming. You spot the planet sweater he’d worn the first time you saw Sylvia, the oversized yellow one that reminded you of Charlie Brown, the black one with half a red heart and the letters, NY in bold white text… It takes a minute of jogging your memory before you can recall him wearing something more plain. Harry doesn’t own a lot of plain. You still can’t quite reach the shelf up on your tiptoes, but Harry is at your side immediately. “The brown?” He tugs it from the stacks and passes it down. “Yeah, thanks.” You examine the camel colored fabric with tiny flecks of black thread, and run your hand along the smooth purl. “This should do.” You tug the sweater over your head; it’s boxy, your arms aren’t long enough to fit, and it isn’t doing any favors for your shoulders. You have to roll the sleeves up past your wrists before the outfit can half pass as something you purposely wore out of the house. You spin around to face him. “Does it look normal?” Harry’s jaw flexes as he gives you the up-down. You fiddle with one of the sleeves. “Yeah,” Harry says stiffly. “Looks normal.” It’s bizarre walking through the level six hallway; it’s identical to your own, but the last time you’d been here, everything down to the carpet and light fixtures had been tainted by your deafening fear. What’s more is that riding down in the lift with Harry feels entirely different now. You see it all from his perspective, and try to visualize what you look like to him most mornings, standing in the corner with your school bag and a book tucked beneath your arm. The lift picks up a few people on its way down, but by the time it reaches the garage, you and Harry are alone. You catch his eyes in the reflection of the doors a second before they open. He clears his throat. “I know it’s probably… we’ll be fine, but stay close, yeah?” You look up at him and nod. It’s easy to keep to your word. Harry guides you to walk in front of him the entire way as your eyes scan the shadows in between the rows of cars. You’re sure you will never be able to see this garage quite the same way. “It’s the old Volkswagen.” “I see it.” You’re so out of it that you almost try to get in on the passenger side. It’s the kind of slip up that Harry might have teased you about, but he’s quiet and looking around, too. You pull the jacket you’d left on the seat last night into your lap, the two of you strap in, and you cannot pull out into the street fast enough. The mustard yellow envelope in the back seat is an unwelcome passenger, visible in your rearview mirror.  Who else knew about these photos? How many are there that weren’t in your envelope? Are they online somewhere? Would they follow you to law school? Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as you grind your teeth. “Alright?” Harry asks. His voice brings you back down to earth. He’d asked you that question when you pricked your finger on the poppy in your jacket pocket. He’d asked you in his bed on the most terrifying night of your life. And he’s asking you now. You nod. “I will be.” • saturday, 5th january 10:42 am • In the parking lot behind Lavender Hill Police Station, you’ve killed the engine but remain in your seat. Part of you is still reluctant to have Harry come along; keeping your composure in front of the police feels hard enough without the prospect of him being there, too, but maybe that’s the one thing that will get you through this. “Sorry.” You shake your head, suddenly aware of how long you’ve been sitting motionless at the wheel. Harry’s gaze is unperturbed. He watches you push anxiously at the sleeves of his sweater. “Take all the time you need.” It’s the same phrase the initial officer who’d taken your statement all those weeks ago had used. It’s what Officer Warren had said to you on the phone last night, and you’re so tired of hearing it. You don’t want to have as much time as you need to feel calm or steady or normal again. You want your time back. You want to reclaim all those extra seconds spent checking over your shoulder, the minutes lost to changing your routes, and the hours spent staring up at the ceiling when you should have been asleep. Rationally, you know that there will be time to relearn how to walk down the street and feel at ease, and plan that trip to Brighton you and India have been talking about for months. There will be time with Harry that isn’t this… stuck in a cramped space, crushed by the weight of your own fear. You hate the way you felt with him in the lift this morning; you want that back most of all. “Faster we get in there,” you say—half to Harry, half to yourself, “the faster we’ll get to leave.” Harry nods. “C’mon then.” The heather grey of the building is no less intimidating than it was in October, but at least this time you don’t have to pull the heavy glass doors open on your own. Inside, you speak with the woman at reception, who gestures for you to sit in a small waiting area just beyond the desk. People in uniform bustle back and forth. Harry’s leg brushes against yours as you sit. He doesn’t move. Neither do you. You have no sense of how long you sit waiting—this doesn’t feel like a place where it’s appropriate to play Solitaire on your phone. You can feel Harry looking at you periodically, but you don’t glance back until a woman with a familiar voice appears before you. She ushers you to follow with a quick, professional smile. Harry doesn’t quite offer the same, but you’re reassured anyway. “I’m Officer Warren.” She stops at a desk with an empty chair beside it. You take care to shake her hand firmly, introducing yourself with all the confidence you can scrap together. “Are you comfortable sitting here?” “Yes, this is fine.” If either Harry or Officer Warren notice your voice is an octave higher, neither of them make any sign. “Good.” She reaches past you to shake Harry’s hand too. “Harry.” “Nice to meet you both. We can also find a conference room, if you’d like somewhere more private, or if you’d both like to sit.” Harry speaks up when you don’t right away. “I’m fine standing.” He looks exactly as he had in the car—calm and willing to take your lead, so you sit before you can change your mind. Officer Warren smiles again, clearly trying to put you at ease. You wish it was more effective. “Right, well I won’t take up too much of your time. Since I took your statement last night, I’ve already got a copy of the transcript from our conversation over the phone, and you won’t need to go over all of that again.” Your shoulders cave a little in relief. Harry’s fingers hook gently over the top of your chair. “Okay.” “But,” she continues, “there is the matter of how to proceed. What we talked about regarding your flat still stands… it really isn’t safe for you to remain there, especially since the suspect seems to know which one is yours, and we still don’t have a clear idea of where he is now, or how he was able to access the car park in your building in the first place.” “So…” You shake your head, in either confusion or denial. “I can’t even go home?” “I’m afraid not, for the time being.” Her eyes are soft, regretful. “Not if he knows where you live. Not if there’s a chance he could get more photographs, or try to break in again.” Your stomach twists. “Were you able to figure out who he is?” You’re not even sure you want to know. Officer Warren’s mouth pinches apologetically. “Not yet. We have a couple technicians working on the security footage and the photos you’ve turned in, so hopefully we’ll be able to get something from them. The car he was driving had no plates. You haven’t seen any sign of him since we spoke last?” You shake your head, and she glances up at Harry as if to confirm. “Alright, that’s a good sign at least. He knows we’re watching, now. On the other hand, there’s a chance he’ll carry on, but be stealthier about it. Is it possible for you to physically stay inside, completely out of sight for let’s say, a week?” “I mean… where?” “Do you have somewhere else you can stay for the time being? With a friend?” You open your mouth, but the “Yes,” is not your own. You force yourself not to turn back to look at him; Harry’s fingers touch your shoulder again. “Yes, she does. She can stay with me. We live in the same building after all, so it’ll hardly be disruptive.” Officer Warren gives him a long look. You can’t tell if she approves or is displeased with him for speaking for you, but now that the initial shock has worn off, gratitude washes over you. Asking India to stay with her indefinitely would have been out of the question; there’s no way you’re endangering your best friend any more than you already have. You’d be putting her in a position where she couldn’t say no. She has four roommates. She doesn’t even know about the photos yet.  “That works,” you hear yourself say. This will only be for a few days, you reason—it’ll buy you just enough time to find your feet. By then, you can sort out a longer-term place to stay if the police still haven’t found the man. Officer Warren is speaking again, and it takes effort to actively refocus on the conversation. “The objective here is to make it seem as though you’re gone. On holiday. He’ll be keeping an eye on the building, no doubt, so he’ll notice if the car is gone, or your flat is empty. Is there any way you can take your classes remotely?” You find you can barely speak, so you just nod instead.  She leans in a little, her eyes finding yours more carefully. “I know it’s frightening, but you’ve been incredibly strong. This won’t be forever. In the meantime, we can send an officer back with you this afternoon so you can gather a few of your things.” You nod again. “Do you have any questions for me?” You force yourself to say, “No, thank you,” which Harry echoes. Officer Warren nods, almost perfunctorily, and stands. “If you wait here just a minute, I’ll introduce you to the officer who’ll take you back to your flat. You’ll be in an unmarked car, and we can arrange for yours to be retrieved.” “Thank you. I’ll call my friend now,” you say. “Maybe she can… I'll have to ask her to look after my cat. And it’s her car, anyway.” Officer Warren nods, apparently satisfied.  You shake her hand again, though your mind is stuck on this won’t be forever. As you rise from the chair, you feel the gentle pressure of Harry’s hand on the small of your back. When Officer Warren returns with another uniformed policeman, you don’t want to move, but your legs carry you anyway. Harry’s gaze finds the side of your face periodically like a lighthouse beam while you call India from the backseat of the police car. After reassuring her again that you’re fine, you gloss over the details of staying in Harry’s flat. You can tell even in her silence that she’s not going to let you off the hook that easily, so you start rambling about what to do with Chowder before she gets the chance to say something embarrassing while Harry is sitting right there. “Of course I’m taking Chowder,” she says before you get the chance to phrase the question. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ll get in a cab right now. Do you need help packing up?” “Yeah sure, thank you. But what about your car?” “I’ll take the keys from you and get it after. Honestly, it’s fine. It’s not like it’s gonna get stolen from the bloody police station.” It’s a stupid joke but you’re comforted a little anyway. “Okay.” “Be there soon. I love you.” “Love you too.” Harry glances over at you. “Everything okay?” “Yeah.” You smile a little and for the first time in ages, it doesn’t feel forced. “She’s gonna meet us at home and take Chowder for me.” “That’s great.” “I know,” you reply, a little distant. “Harry, thank you for coming with me… It was nice not to have to, y’know, do that alone.” “That’s alright.” His voice is equally gentle. “We’re gonna… They’re gonna find him. And they’re gonna fix this, and then everything’s gonna go back to normal.” You aren’t sure which of you he’s trying to reassure, but Harry meets your eyes and you nod. Back at your building, you meet up with India. “Think I might just pop home, if that’s alright,” Harry says, going in for the sixth-floor button on the keypad. “I told Annie a bit about what’s going on, but I owe her an update.” “Of course.” You look up at him in the reflection of the doors. “We’ll see you down there.” It’s your first time seeing the dent and scratches on the door to your flat in person. You shiver, turn the key, and push the door open.  “Chowder!” you shout as a flash of orange darts through your legs, meowing down the hall. The officer’s hand lands reflexively on his baton as your cat scares all three of you half to death. Once you manage to corral your cat back to your corner of the hallway, you struggle to keep him still in your arms. “Indy, his crate is under my bed—” “Hold off a minute, I’m going to do a quick walkthrough. I’m sure everything’s fine, but wait out here.” The officer leaves the door cracked open behind him. India offers a small, encouraging smile when you flinch at the sound of him announcing himself in your apartment. You stroke between Chowder’s ears; he is heavy and warm in your arms, and his fur sticks uncomfortably to the sweat on your palms. “All clear.” The officer reappears. “Let’s try to be quick about this.” India immediately ducks through the door following him, but you have to take a deep breath before stepping through the threshold. The place looks completely untouched. Had you been expecting company, perhaps you would have thought to clear the dishes from the sink or remove your laundry from the drying rack. After coercing an unusually talkative Chowder into his travel crate, you and India work as a team to stuff as much into your duffel bag as will fit. Shirts, bras, and pants hurtle past your head. “Indy, I’m staying at a neighbor’s for a few days—what on earth am I going to need this for?” You hold up the silk, strappy dress that just landed on your neatly-folded stacks, shooting her a disapproving look. “I’m just grabbing and throwing!” “Well just, y’know… let’s make sure we’re not speeding through this at the expense of packing with a little common sense.” “I’ve got this,” India says, waving down at the open duffel. “Go sort whatever toiletries you need, yeah?” Thankfully you’ve stayed overnight at her place enough times to warrant a travel case of essentials that lives under your bathroom sink. There’s makeup cluttered all over the counter. You stare at it a moment before rolling your eyes at yourself. “We should probably get going.” The officer’s voice from the other room startles you both as India zips up your duffel. “Are you two about ready?”  As you stick your head out of your bedroom, the officer is peeking through the blinds across the street. “Yes,” you reply. “We are.” Overnight bag and Chowder in tow, you clamber back onto the lift. “Did you get your toothbrush?” “Yes.” “Face wash?” “Yes.” “Pillow?” “Indy, you saw me putting it in—” “Towel?” “Yes.” “Phone charger?” “… Shit.” Ding. The officer steps out with you on the sixth floor as you thank him, and bid a quick goodbye once he reassures you to call if you need anything or, of course, if anything happens. India turns to face you next. “He’s this way.” You nod down the hall, and she leads. “It’s right at the end. The one with the wreath.” The doors of the lift close. You don’t want to think about the last time you’d been walking down this corridor and heard that sound from behind you. India moves aside holding Chowder’s crate by the handle, and the shopping bag full of his supplies as you step up to the welcome mat with your things. Harry swings open the door to his apartment after the second knock, immediately taking the duffel bag from off of your shoulder. “Oh, Harry, you don’t have to—” “I got it.” India elbows you in the ribs. Harry turns to carry your bag to Sylvia's room, and when you look behind at her, her eyebrows are raised above an animated smirk. “Don’t,” you whisper through gritted teeth. She raises a hand in defense as Harry returns before reaching out to accept his offered hand. “Hello, I’m India.” “Harry.”  “Pleasure.” He flashes her a warm smile. She nods appreciatively as they shake hands—at you, however, instead of Harry and your cheeks ignite. “Okay great. That’s settled then. Shall we—um… Indy?” You cut in, then turn to her, nodding to the door with I’m going to kill you in your eyes. “Lovely to meet you, Harry!” “Cheers, dear. You as well.” Harry’s attention returns to you for a moment. “I’ll just be…” He gestures vaguely to the kitchen. You step out into the hall with India. Chowder meows from the crate in her arms and she almost drops him. “What,” you hiss, “was that?”  She ignores your tone, then says your name like it’s a plea. “Call me if you need absolutely anything, or text me—no matter what time it is. I’ll drop everything and come straight to you.” “I’m sleeping two floors below where I usually do, Indy, I’m not dying.” “I know, I know… How’s a Skype dinner tomorrow night? I’ll order us a take away.” “Definitely.” You wish you could squeeze her in another tight hug, but Chowder’s crate impedes you. “Thank you.” “Love you, babe.” “Love you too.” She looks unsatisfied. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. Text me when we’re eating, okay?” You begin to walk backward into Harry’s apartment and blow her a kiss. “I will… Bye!” “Please don’t kill my cat!” You lean on the door frame, watching India’s silhouette shrink as she heads back down the hall to the lift with Chowder. You sigh and close the door, but as you turn around, your hand rushes to your chest in a gasp; Harry is standing just behind you, rubbing his face. “So I’ve just rung Annie while you were upstairs… ” He steps aside to give you a clear path through the hallway. “Oh?” “I’m sorry—they’re just coming,” he rushes, sounding a little panicked as you step into Sylvia's room. You set your phone and laptop down with the rest of your things. “They insisted ‘cause they’ve got a spare mattress, and I told them you needed a place to crash for a bit and also that you stayed here last night so… yeah. You don’t have to be here for that. When they come—oh, and they probably have Sylvia, too, if that’s… ” Harry trails off.” “Wait, I’m sorry.” You close your eyes and shake your head. “Annie? You mean—” “Sylvia’s mum, yeah, and um… her fiancé, AJ.” Harry tilts his head down, as if to gauge your reaction. “And they want to give… they have a spare mattress? But you already have a mattress.” “That’s what I said!” Harry gestures wildly. It must have been a lively phone call. “Oh, well that’s… awfully kind of them,” you begin, trying to keep up. “Would it be easier if I wasn’t—” “No.” He’s clearly surprised at his own volume as he cuts you off. Harry literally leans back, hesitating. “I mean… stay. They’d love to meet you. They’re my family and you’re…” His eyes flit back to yours and hang on. “You’re obviously gonna to be staying here a bit, and they drop by all the time so I jus’ don’t wanna overwhelm you, is all.” Suddenly, it’s your turn struggling to look at him. “Well, I—” “H, open the door! This is heavy!” a voice bellows from beyond the front door. Harry’s eyes shut momentarily. “Coming!” he calls. You stand there, in the doorway to Sylvia’s room, stunned at the pace with which this is all unfolding. Harry jogs to the door. You poke your head out as an explosion of noise disrupts what had before been so peaceful. A child’s high-pitched shriek rips through the flat, followed by a long, labored groan from Harry as Sylvia barrels into his arms and he crouches down to lift her. “How’s Daddy’s girl?” he greets. Sylvia simply continues screaming and tries to bend over backward out of his arms. “Hi, Harry.” A striking woman with jet-black hair waltzes in, carrying a large dish of food wrapped in tin foil, seemingly unphased. Harry shifts Sylvia to one arm, bending over to greet her in a side hug and quick kiss to the cheek. “Hi, love.” What appears to be a twin sized mattress with twig legs follows in suit, grunting softly. “Still heavy.” “Right, sorry.” Harry hands Sylvia off to who you assume is Annie as he hurries to take the mattress, revealing a second, much taller woman with sunglasses atop her blonde head of hair. She’s wearing red lipstick and bright suede pumps. “There we go,” she sighs. “I need a fag.” Harry almost takes out a light fixture as he hauls the bed. You press yourself up against the wall as he offers a quick, “S’cuse me,” and passes you to Sylvia's room. The two women look at you as simultaneous smiles light their faces. “Hi!” “Hello!” Sylvia waves at you, too. “Guess this one doesn’t need an introduction,” the dark-haired woman laughs, approaching with a hand extended. You notice that she’s the one wearing the ring. “I’m Annie.” “It’s great to meet you, Harry has spoken so highly of both of you.” You turn to the other woman after introducing yourself. “AJ.” One corner of her mouth quirks up. “It’s a pleasure.” “Thank you so much for the mattress, ” you begin, wringing your hands. “It seems like everyone’s done so much to help me in the past few days… It’s really meant a lot.” AJ tilts her head to look at you with a more meaningful gaze, and Annie steps forward to rest a hand on your forearm. “Harry hasn’t gone into a terrible amount of detail but… we’re so, awfully sorry for what’s happened to you.” She squeezes gently, her fingers in the crook of your elbow. The strange familiarity of the gesture disarms you. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through, and with your family so far away—I just… we heard about what was going on, and that was it. We had to help.” You nod and suddenly have trouble swallowing. There’s just something different about discussing this with women. “Harry’s air mattress,” AJ chips in, sardonic, “belongs in an incinerator.” “Hey!” His voice comes muted from the open door of Sylvia’s bedroom. Now that you’ve seen the both of them together up close, you realize how wrong you were in thinking that Sylvia only took after her father. Annie’s features are evident in her daughter’s deep, brown eyes, her nose, and the high angles of her cheeks.  “Well,” Annie starts, raising her eyebrows at everyone, “we’re obviously feeding you.” You laugh in disbelief. “No you’re not!” “We are!” She smiles as she sets Sylvia down, who weaves through everyone’s legs to her bedroom. “And relax, it’s already cooked so there’s no use in turning it down.” AJ pulls you in for a side hug, which you were grossly unprepared for. “Thank… you.” In your bewilderment, it’s all you can manage to say as Annie removes the tin foil from a full pan’s helping of chicken and vegetables. “Isn’t this supposed to be tomorrow’s roast? The Sunday roast?” Harry appears in the kitchen with Sylvia on his hip. He frowns, poking his head over Annie’s shoulder as she preheats the oven. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies. They lock eyes. Something tender passes between them; part of you feels like you should look away. “Annie… ” Harry says, softer now. “You didn’t have to do all this.” She ignores him, setting the timer on the oven as AJ slides a small mountain of tupperware into the fridge. The kettle starts to scream. You hadn’t realized someone started tea. You’re not sure what to do besides stand by the sink and stare. AJ rushes over to fill four steaming mugs, portioning different amounts of cream and honey into each. She turns to the few stray dishes in the sink, beginning to wash. “AJ, stop tha—” “Harry, relax would you?” She whips his leg with a dish towel and he relents. “Why is she staying in my room?” Sylvia pipes up from Harry’s arms. He looks across the kitchen at you, and then down to her. “Well see, bug, Daddy’s got a friend who’s gonna stay here for a little while.” Harry points at you and twists so she has a better view. You wave your fingers at her, and Harry asks Sylvia if she can say your name, but she simply buries her face into his sweater. “Like a slumber party?” “Um—” Harry falters. “Sort of, but not quite.” “It’s a grown-up slumber party?” AJ chokes on her tea. The tips of Harry’s ears go crimson.  “Honey, it’s like when Auntie Kristen comes over to Mummy and Mum’s to stay on holiday,” Annie salvages. Harry’s shoulders visibly relax.  Sylvia tugs at the collar of Harry’s sweater. “How long?” she begs. Your heart falls. “‘M not sure, Vi.” Harry moves some hair from her face as she pouts, then kisses her forehead. “Not forever.” “This’ll be good for you, Harry. You need more friends.” Annie pinches Harry’s side before turning to you with a smirk. “Maybe you can finally start hanging out with people your own age.” You shrug to play along, pursing your lips against a smile. “I mean… ” “Harry doesn’t go out much.” Annie’s comedic whisper fills the room as she carries your tea over to you. “Neither do you!” Harry retorts, frowning playfully over his shoulder, attempting to smack her; she narrowly dodges. “Yeah, just the one time,” AJ deadpans, pointing between them and then nodding to Sylvia. “Jesus Christ,” Harry breathes before they break into laughter. You can’t help but join in. Sylvia’s head swings from parent to parent, smiling in oblivious delight. “Alright, alright,” Annie wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Just leave the roast in there until you’re ready to eat. We should get going soon.” “Have you got sheets that fit the bed?” Harry asks, bouncing Sylvia on his hip. “Right!” Annie’s eyes go wide. She turns to AJ, “Darling, you mind popping down to the car to get those?” “Since I already hauled up the mattress, am I allowed to play the gender card?” AJ throws eyes at Harry. “Hands are full,” he replies cheerfully. He holds one of Sylvia’s arms up to wave. “Fine,” she relents, plucking the keys from Annie’s back pocket. “Thank you!” Annie calls after her. AJ simply waves a hand behind her head. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while later!” AJ begins to walk faster. Harry shoots Annie a jokingly scandalized look with a hand covering his gaping mouth. She squints at him and rolls her eyes. He puts Sylvia down, whispering in her ear as he points to the miniature arts and crafts table in the living room.  Sylvia takes a seat on the colorful stool, her tiny features already pinched in concentration as she finds a crayon and begins to draw. Harry crouches at her side, watching her for a moment before kissing the top of her head. He breezes past you before you hear the bathroom door lock shut and now it’s just you and Annie alone together. “I love Harry, but he’s a man and he doesn’t know anything.” You shouldn’t laugh, but you do. “We live ten minutes away. If you need anything at all—anything, I mean it, please call us. Mine and AJ’s mobile numbers are both on the fridge.” “Thank you, Annie.” She hesitates, playing absently with the tag of her tea bag before nodding to the living room. “Let’s sit.” You have a seat on the couch; Annie takes the small leather armchair on the other side of the coffee table. Her eyes are warm. You see a flash of that expression that had passed between her and Harry. “He is a good man.” Annie’s voice is so low, it’s almost a whisper. “One of the best I’ve ever met… You’re in good hands, I promise.” There isn’t a chance for you to respond as the sound of the faucet running in the bathroom interrupts. Harry re-enters the living room, his eyes flitting between yours and Annie’s with a curious look on his face. “Am I interrupting something?” “Course not, lovely. We’re just waiting for AJ with the sheets,” Annie replies. She must be killer at poker. AJ slips through the door with a folded bundle of checkered sheets nearly covering her face. “Miss me?” She perches on the armrest of Annie’s chair upon returning from Syvia’s room, an arm wrapped around her shoulders. You are acutely aware of the warmth of Harry’s leg against yours, suddenly too nervous to shift and potentially draw attention to it. Though you try hard not to, you can practically see the silent conversation happening between the three other adults in the room; if you had to guess, it’s probably about you. You categorically refuse to look at Harry, so you’re left with AJ’s nearly imperceptible eyebrow-raising, and a curl of Annie’s lip that seems to be a question and a confirmation all at once. The three of them are a little… too quiet. “Well we should be off then,” she says, drawing her hands together in a clap. “Someone needs a bath tonight.”  Sylvia hurries over and locks her arms around Harry’s legs. He scoops her up like she weighs absolutely nothing. “C’mon now, angel,” he murmurs, glancing over his daughter’s head to look at you with a vaguely resigned expression. “Gonna see you tomorrow, aren’t I? Gotta be good for your mums.” Harry fixes Sylvia’s wobbling lower lip with a stern look. “Hey, now. What’s this about? S’not any different from Mummy’s normal turn with you, right? You know you’ve got too much love pumpkin, we gotta share ya.” Sylvia mumbles something too soft to make out; Harry ducks his head close. “Tell me?” You don’t catch all the words, except, “stars.” His face crumples a bit. “Oh honey, of course you’ll still have your bedtime stars. They’re not going anywhere. Nobody’s gonna take your stars.” “And that sounds like the beginning of a meltdown,” Annie says, standing quickly and pulling Sylvia from Harry’s arms. “Best be on our way before she tests all our eardrums.” Sylvia momentarily seems like she might reach back for him, but then she looks at you as though by accident, and shrinks back into her mother’s arms. Shame knots in your stomach as the two women head for the door. Sylvia peeks over Annie’s shoulder as AJ slings her purse over her arm with the car keys in hand. You busy yourself clearing the empty mugs of tea in some small attempt to give them privacy. “Come ‘round about six, yeah?” Annie says as AJ waves at you and disappears first out the door. Harry is sliding Sylvia’s arm through the second sleeve of her coat. His and Annie’s teamwork seems fluid and practiced. “Sounds good.” He tugs her tiny knit hat more securely over her curls. “Love you, bug.” “Hôn ba đi, Vi.”  You have no idea what Annie’s just said to Sylvia but Harry leans forward to receive his daughter’s kiss, placing an audible one on her forehead in return.  He says something else to Sylvia that’s not English. That deeply tender look in Annie’s face returns. Harry’s hand falls to her waist and she touches his jaw to place a quick peck at the corner of his mouth. “Call us if you need anything.” She turns back to you. “You too. Our numbers are—” “On the fridge,” you finish with a smile, waving. “Thank you, Annie.” Harry shuts the door behind them and the flat falls silent for the first time in what feels like ages. You hear him laugh once before he turns to you. “Sorry about that.” “No. Harry, I should be the one apologizing. Sylvia’s so upset, I feel awful.” Harry looks from you to the door and back again, shaking his head as he moves towards the kitchen. “Oh no, don’t worry about that. She was mostly tired, is all. Happens all the time.” He pauses before joking, “Sorry you had to hear my really terrible Vietnamese.” You watch as he begins to rifle through the cabinets. “What are you doing?” “I’m sure I left it in here somewhere—aha!” He holds an empty mason jar aloft before grabbing a sharpie and the magnetic pad of Hello Kitty sticky notes from the fridge door. Harry scrawls quickly, the cap of the pen between his teeth, before sticking a note on the glass and holding it up for you to read the big, block letters. APOLOGIES.

[writer1]

A 501st Christmas

Chapter 8

Your eyes flutter open as you wake up, you feel excitement bubble up as you realize what day it is. It's Christmas day, you turn over too Rex, giving him a kiss to wake him.

Today's one of the few times Rex doesn't transform in his sleep, his eyes open as soon as you kiss him. He smiles groggily at you, leaning over and kissing the tip of your nose.

"Merry Christmas, Cyar'ika." You sit up and so does he, you both get changed. You can't wait to give Rex his present, you had it all finished yesterday. You hope he likes it, you're really nervous that he might not like it.

"Come on, the boys are probably out there already waiting for us." Rex grabs your hand once you're finished changing into your regular clothes, he's wearing some civies that you got him. You both walk out of your room, walking through the halls, you make it to the tree and see a lot of troopers there.

"Hey, y/n! Rex!" You turn to see Fives and all the boys sitting on a couch, they have already grabbed all the present's and put them in a pile near them.

"We got a comm from Obi Wan, he's going to bring Gida over later. She hardly slept last night, she was to excited for Santa." You nod at Cody, it brings up memories of waiting for Santa when you were a youngling.

"So does he want us to wait for them?" Rex asks but Cody shakes his head.

"No, he told us to go ahead. Supposedly Gida has presents for all of us to open when she gets here." You and Rex sit down with the boys.

"M-merry Christm-m-mas, y/n. And merry C-Christmas Ori'v-vod." You and Rex both smile at Stutter, he's such a sweetheart.

"Merry Christmas Stutter."

"Merry Christmas Vod'ika." Stutter smiles at the both of you, he's so happy to have everyone here, even if all the troopers aren't sitting right in their area.

"So who opens their presents first." You grab Stutter's presents from the pile, handing it to him.

"Stutter should go first." He blushes a little from being in the spotlight, and grabs the gift. He starts ripping the paper of and a gasp of delight leaves him at what he sees.

"A-An art set! I l-love it so m-much, it's g-got everything I-I needed. Thank y-you so much." You smile at his excitement.

"You welcome Stutter, you deserve it." Everyone else starts giving him gifts, and of course almost all of it is art supplies. Tup gives him some new brushes, while Fives gives Stutter a book of construction flimsy in all the colors of the rainbow.

Jesse gives him a skit that comes with three boxes that he can paint how he wants, and much more from others, including a bunch of pencils, flimsy and crayons curtisy of the 212th.

And last but not least a portrait of Stutter's closest brothers from Rex, including Hardcase and Echo. That makes poor Stutter tear up and he gives Rex a hug, he wipes his tears away and thanks Rex and everyone for the gifts.

"T-Thank you s-so much Ori'vod." Rex smiles sweetly at his Vod'ika, it warms your heart, seeing how close they are.

"No thanks needed, Vod'ika. You deserve everything." Stutter smiles brightly, he still acts like he did when he first got here, young and skittish sometimes. But no one cares, Stutter can act mature on the battlefield but his brothers love letting him act like a kid sometime's like right now.

"So, w-who goes n-next?"

"How about we go youngest to oldest." Everyone nods in agreement with Cody, which means that Tup goes next. Rex stands up and grabs his presents, sitting them beside Tup, he opens the first one from Dogma. It's a bunch of hairstyles, they are multi colored and have different designs and patterns.

"Thought that you'd like em, and they'll keep your hair in regulations." Dogma says quietly, not looking up at anyone. Tup has a huge smile on his face as he leans over and hugs dogma, giving him a keldabe kiss.

"I love them Dogma, thank you so much." He pulls away and Dogma has a tiny, shy smile on his face.

Tup starts opening his presents from the rest of his brothers, he got a lot of hair products and even an instruction booklet on different hairstyles and braids. He gets to your present, opening it and immediately seeing the conditioner.

"Thanks y/n, I love conditioner, especially the stuff that specializes in curls."

"Of course, I'm glad you like it." Next is Dogma, who looks surprised at all the gifts that are in his pile.

"Why look do surprised Dogma?" Fives asks him, everyone looks confused.

"I didn't think that you guys would get me anything, after Umbara..." All the troopers wince, they hate the memory, even the ones who weren't there. Rex walks over as Dogma stands too leave, feeling bad for bringing up the memory. He places a hand on his shoulder.

"You're our brother, Dogma, we love you. We already forgave you for that, please don't leave." Dogma looks around as everyone nods and sits back down, grabbing a present, it ends up being your's. You actually added an extra item after the mini journals, he carefully rips the wrapping paper the way only Dogma could and opens the box to see a stuffed animal on top.

His eyes are filled with confusion as he pulls it out and looks it over, it's a little stuffed Loth wolf that you found. Tup told you that Dogma wanted a stuffed animal, ever since he saw a trainers daughter with one while they were cadets.

But since he liked to follow the regs a lot before Umbara he never got himself one, and after he was to shy to ask for one either. So you thought that Dogma deserved one, you already told Tup about it before and he loved it.

Everyone holds their breath, you told them about the gift, just in case they might have poked fun at him. After hearing the backstory everyone thought it would be a great idea.

"I... What... H-How did you know." He whispers quietly, tears filling his eyes as he looks away, Hugging the stuffed wolf to his chest.

"Tup told me, and as soon as I saw him I knew that you'd love him. If you don't like it I can exch..."

No! No. I love it." He says loudly at first, going back to his usual, quiet manner after. You smile as he looks into the box again, pulling out the mini journals.

"I figured that you could write down lists and rules the way you like too on sticky notes, and you could write your feelings down too." He smiles and nods.

"Thank you." He opens the rest of the gifts from his brothers, a lot of them are candy and Dogma's favorite sweets.

You proceed to go through both Waxer and Boil, Waxer loves the album that you and Boil give him. He also opens up the gifts from everyone else, and ends up getting a book of parenting from the whole 501st and 212th. (Everyone knows that Numa is pretty much his daughter.)

Boil loves his travel mug for his caf, and he got many different kinds of caf for it from his brothers. The best gift was the book of manners from Waxer, you all laughed when Boil opened that one. He got so grumpy seeing it.

Next is Jesse who gets many different presents, he gets a prank book that comes with supplies for pranks from Fives and bursts out laughing. (Absolutely no one has any idea why except Kix who also laughs, they tell everyone that they'll know soon enough.) He gets a free dinner from Dex's coupon from Kix and the jokebook from you, from Stutter he gets a book, it's called treasure planet and is one of Jesse's favorites.

Kix gets a free spa day from Jesse, a day off from you and Anakin, another day off from Rex. He also gets some coupons that the rest of the 501st chipped in making for things like a week of no visits from Fives to the medbay, and a day of no Jesse bugging him and so on, he also gets a coupon from Stutter for a week of having him as a helper.

Fives loves the comb and cookbook from you, he gets the same prank book from Jesse, making everyone burst out laughing. From tup he gets a book of hair styles since fives loves playing with his hair and from Dogma he gets some chocolate's. From Stutter he gets some sweets and a hand drawn picture of him, Fives and Echo, prompting Fives to tear up and pull him into a hug.

"Thank you so much Vod'ika."

"You're welcome, Ori'vod." From Rex he gets some prank supplies to everyone's surprise. And from Kix his favorite candy.

All that's left is you, Rex and Cody, so you're next, you start opening your present's. From Fives you get a picture of you and him, on the back of the photograph it says. *Me and my sister* you pull him into a hug.

"Thanks Fives!"

"You're welcome little sister." He says as you get back to your gifts, you get some prank supplies from Jesse so that you can help him and Fives once in a while, and some cooking supplies from Kix.

From the 212th you get some new holo-film's and from Stutter you get a little stuffed Loth cat, from Dogma you get a book of recipes since you love to cook.

You make sure to thank everyone. You don't get anything from Rex since you both decided to give your gifts privately.

Rex gets some coupons from everyone, including a whole week of no pranking from both Fives and Jesse. From Kix he gets some caf and he gets some sweets from both Dogma and Tup and from Cody he gets some new clothes.

"Since you keep ripping your's." Rex glares at Cody as he chuckle's, from Stutter he gets a picture of both of them together.

Cody finally starts opening his gifts, opening yours and Rex's first, he gets an orange strap for his belt for Obi Wan's lightsaber.

"Since you pretty much own it " Rex explains with a smirk, earning a glare from Cody. Cody gets lots of caf since everyone knows that he has a caf addiction. And the best gift of all is a book from Fives and Rex called, *how too date your General*

The blush on Cody's race is evident, everyone knows about his crush on Obi Wan. Suddenly Obi Wan and Gida walk in, and Cody scrambles to hide the book. Gida's already opened her presents from everyone except you and Rex, since you both wanted to give her them in person.

"Mr. Rex!" She runs over and hugs him, then starts her ritual of hugging everyone.

"I got you all presents!" She runs up to Obi Wan, grabbing a bunch of papers from him and handing the out, seems like she drew pictures for everyone, they all thank and hug her. She gets to you and Rex, giving you each a picture, you look at yours, it has both you and Rex hugging little Gida. You laugh at how cute it is, it's pretty good too.

"Thanks Gida." You hug her then look at Rex's picture, hes holding back laughter as you look and see a crudely drawn Rex in his wolf for with little Gida hugging him.

"Thanks sweetheart." He hugs her tightly, he absolutely loves the picture and already has a place to hang it in his room on the Resolute.

You and Rex give Gida the box containing your gift for her, she opens it and instantly squeal's at the stuffed Loth cat in it. She pulls it out looking it over.

"Rex picked that out just for you, sweetheart." She hugs Rex tightly.

"I love! I love it! I love it!" She takes out the bracelet you got her, putting it on and hugging you.

"Thank you, I love it so much. Thanks Mr. Rex." You both say you're welcome to her, happy to see her happy.

×××

For the rest of the day you hang out with your family, you love every last one of them. Anakin even joins you later on after spending time with Padme.

Now you and Rex are sitting in your room, you both are ready to give eachother your presents.

"You open yours first, darling." Rex hands you your gift and you smile, already ripping the pretty wrapping off. Inside the box you find a charm bracelet, it only has three charms on it so far, ones a charm of a star, ones a wolf and ones a pair of Jag eyes, there's also a piece of Rex's armor, it's one of his hand guards, the one with the tally marks.

"Oh Rex, I absolutely love it." You jump up and give him a tight hug, as Rex laughs. You cup his face and give him a deep kiss.

"I'm glad you love it, now can I open mine?" You nod but your smile drops a little, the bracelet that Rex got you must have cost a lot, and his hand guard is so special. You only got him the locket.

"Cyare? What's wrong darling?"

"I... My present is only one thing that I made." Rex instantly realizes what's wrong, you don't think that your present will be good enough. Well, he's going to change that.

"Hey, I'm going to love it, it'll be perfect no matter what it is." You nod and Rex starts opening the box, he freezes when he sees the locket. His expression is blank as he looks it over, opening it up to see a picture of you both, taken only a month ago. In the picture you're both looking into the camera, arms wrapped around eachother and you head on Rex's chest.

Yiu think that he must hate it, because of the blank expression. But then you see a tear fall from his eye.

"Rex? Rex what's wrong? Why are you crying, sweetheart?" He slams into you, wrapping you up in a hug.

"I love it, thank you so much cyare." You wrap your arms tightly around him, moving away a little and wiping the tears.

"You made it yourself, that makes it precious to me. And I love the picture of us both in it."

"It also extends so that you can wear it even in your Wolf form " Rex pulls you into a kiss, you both pull away after running out of breath and Rex puts the locket on.

"I'll never take it off." You and Rex hug again, you find that meeting Rex and his brothers was the best thing that happened to you since losing your parents. One thing you know for sure is that this is the best Christmas you've ever had.

Taglist: @captainrexisboo @tobitofunction @pentaghasm @ohmsjedi @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @ellie1366 @marine-captain-deku @reimet @commanderrivercc-3628 @ahsokatano-thetogruta

[recurring-polynya]

Apparently, if you send someone an ask, but then deactivate your Tumblr, the ask gets deleted. I got this from our old friend k-rukias, and fortunately, I already had it copied over, but anyway, that’s why this isn’t in the standard ask format. Anyway, k-rukias, I hope you’re still out there somewhere and there’s some way you can see this!

k-rukias asked:

you grasp byakuya’s character SO PERFECTLY it always makes me laugh out loud, especially your “Uncle B” stories. i’d love it if you could write more of the kuchiki-abarai family+ichika(maybe throw in some byakuya&toshiro being bffs) I SWEAR YOU DO THE DOMESTIC GENRE SO WELL one can tell you have kiddos 🥺💕

“Give Uncle Byakuya a big hug, Ichika,” Rukia instructed, stifling a yawn. “You’ll see him again on Saturday.” Despite the cheer in her voice, the second Ichika’s tiny face was buried in Byakuya’s chest, she shot her brother a thumbs up and a quizzical look.

Byakuya gave a very firm thumbs up in return. His inconsiderate adjutant was having yet another birthday, and Rukia had asked if they might hold a small family celebration at the manor this year. Byakuya wasn’t sure why. Surely the man would prefer not to see his commanding officer on his own birthday, but Byakuya loved his sister and had made the arrangements she requested.

Ichika finished rubbing her sticky cheeks all over the silk of his kimono. “Here, Uncle B,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. “It has to be just like this, okay?”

“Of course, my blossom,” he promised.

“No, it doesn’t,” Rukia mouthed to him behind Ichika’s back. “Okay, kiddo, you ready to go home and see if Daddy missed us?”

“I bet he fell asleep on the couch again!”

“We’ll find out! See you, Saturday, Brother!”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sister,” Byakuya entreated her.

“If you have any questions, please call me,” she begged. “Or send a Hell Butterfly, or however you communicate with people these days.”

“I am very good at Text Messaging,” Byakuya assured her.

Rukia gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look, which he tolerated, because she looked very much like Hisana when she made it.

“I will not have any questions.”

As his beloved sister and niece took their leave, he unfolded Ichika’s piece of paper.

He stared at it.

He had so many questions.

--

“I do appreciate that you texted before you came over,” Captain Hitsugaya informed him stonily. “But next time, could you text, like, more than a minute before you show up? Maybe wait for a reply?”

“Is now not a good time?” Byakuya asked. “Have I interrupted Squad 10 napping hours?”

“I just… would have picked up first,” Hitsugaya grumbled, trying to keep a stack of paper from falling off his desk. “And it’s always Squad 10 napping hours.”

Currently, Lieutenants Matsumoto and Kuna were sprawled out on the Squad 10 couches, snoring quite loudly.

“I have seen it worse in here,” Byakuya replied. “I am your,” he swallowed, “friend, and I accept your imperfections.”

Hitsugaya glowered at him. “What do you need?”

Byakuya spread Ichika’s instructions out on Hitsugaya’s desk. “Can you tell what this is?”

Hitsugaya’s eyes scanned the drawing: the lumpy creatures that might be rabbits, the crayon scribbles, the puddle of glitter. “Is this a test?”

“If it is, I am in danger of failing it,” Byakuya admitted.

“Ichika made this?” Hitsugaya guessed.

“I imagine the glitter gave it away.”

“Can’t you get Abarai to decipher it for you?”

“I cannot. I am hosting a ‘Surprise Birthday Party’ for him this weekend, and this represents Ichika’s vision of it. I need to identify the items in the picture so I can have them for the party.”

Hitsugaya nodded slowly. “Ah. These are probably balloons, then?”

Byakuya straightened up. “Balloons or lanterns? Or possibly the overhanging blooms of the wisteria?”

“You’re overthinking it. She’s five. It’s balloons. Can you ask Rukia?”

Byakuya’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Ichika’s art style bears a certain… resemblance to her mother’s. I am worried that if I ask for help…” he trailed off.

“Gotcha,” Hitsugaya replied brusquely. He sucked his teeth, and poked a finger at the page. “Well, this is obviously Abarai.”

“Yes, he is always distinguishable by virtue of the fact that she draws him three times as large as the rest of us.”

“Also, he’s the only one with pink hair and stripes,” Hitsugaya replied, raising an eyebrow. “Oversensitive, much?”

“I am only three inches shorter than he,” Byakuya grumbled. “The hair makes him look taller.”

“You are not getting any sympathy here, give it up,” Hitsugaya grumbled back. “He’s got a hat on, I think? A party hat?”

“Yes, I did get that far. We are all wearing hats.”

“Abarai also appears to either be wearing a lei, or he is in bankai.”

“A lei?”

“A flower necklace? We should have some around here, from the last time Matsumoto threw a luau.”

“Ah, thank you,” Byakuya replied. He had not actually expected Hitsugaya to be quite this helpful, and he wondered how he was going to repay the man’s patience in this matter.

“All this stuff on the table is… food, maybe? Gosh, I cannot tell what any of this is. These things look like fish, but they’re brown… taiyaki, maybe?”

“Oh, yes, I had figured that part out as well. Even I know that taiyaki is Abarai’s preferred celebratory food. I actually have a specially made mold--”

“You should make normal ones. Fish ones.”

“He likes Admiral Seaweed taiyaki.”

“It’s the man’s birthday, don’t make him pretend to like your weird taiyaki.”

“They have more crispy bits because of the arms and legs! He told me that specifically, in a complimentary manner!”

Hitsugaya gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look. Unfortunately, the young man did not have the advantage of resembling Byakuya’s beautiful late wife.

--

Byakuya was distinctly Not Sure About This, but Hitsugaya had hit a wall and decided they needed to bring in ‘a bigger gun.’

Byakuya hadn’t actually set foot in the Squad 5 offices since Aizen’s departure. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Aizen, generally, but at least the man had a classical taste in decor. Now, his former workspace more closely resembled the interior of an eclectic Living World coffee establishment for beatniks. One wall (but not the others) was painted orange, and covered in strange, stylized art that appeared to have been done by the captain and lieutenant themselves. The rug hurt his eyes. There was a beaded curtain.

“I don’t know why you thought I was going to have any insight on this, Shirou,” Lieutenant Hinamori grumped, squinting at the picture. “Renji’s the only one who can decipher these things.”

Byakuya could not help feeling the tiniest bit smug that he was not the only one who was sassed by his loved ones.

“Well, I figured you’d been to an Abarai birthday party or two,” Hitsugaya excused.

“Yeah,” Hinamori replied. “The grown-up ones. Unless this thing over here is supposed to be a tokkuri, and Captain and Lieutenant Kuchiki are arm wrestling, I can’t help you.” She frowned. “You’ve been to an Abarai birthday party, haven’t you?”

“They’re a little wild for my blood,” Hitsugaya excused. “And nobody likes drinking around their captain. I’ve been, but I usually leave before he starts bench-pressing people.”

“There are captains who come,” Momo pointed out. “And I doubt your presence would slow Matsumoto down, anyway, she’s impervious to that judgemental thing you do with your eyebrows.” She contemplated the paper. “What are these weird marks? Is this a speech bubble?”

“We couldn’t figure those out,” Hitsugaya admitted.

“Lemme take a look,” Captain Hirako, who was unfortunately present, announced. “Sometimes you gotta look at things from a different perspective.”

He turned the paper upside down. He turned it backwards. He turned it right side up, and turned his head sideways.

“I got nothing,” he replied. “Kid’s got good style though. And I think Momo may be onto something, actually. I went to Abarai’s last birthday party, and Kuchiki the Younger beat me at arm wrestling in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

“It’s your noodle arms, sir,” Hinamori supplied. She stuck out her lower lip. “A different perspective, though, is not a bad idea. You know who you should go ask?”

Byakuya did not want to hear the answer.

--

“This is dango. This is katsudon. This is shaved ice.”

Byakuya was frantically taking notes.

“How… how can you tell?” Hitsugaya gaped.

Hachigou Nemuri regarded him with her serious, dark green eyes. “I have seen many of Abarai-chan’s drawings.”

Akon made a grumbling noise. “Abarai-chan’s drawing fuuuuu---udged up Nemu’s image recognition subroutines for months. I mean, it was a good thing, in the long run, I ended up implementing an entire art appreciation suite of dynamically created subroutines. It took me forever to figure out why she couldn’t recognize normal drawings of things, though.”

“What are these marks?” Byakuya asked, pointing to the funny squiggles hanging above everyone’s heads.

“Abarai-chan can’t write yet,” Nemu explained.

“Yes, I know that,” Byakuya replied.

“Writing is a form of communication that utilizes mutually understood symbols to convey an idea from one party to another,” Nemu recited. “Abarai-chan does not yet grasp the importance of a common dictionary in the delivery of information.”

Akon scratched his neck. “You’re saying Abarai-chan doesn’t know very many kana, so she just makes them up.”

“Correct,” Nemu agreed.

“Can you read them?” Hitsugaya asked hopefully.

“She does not employ a self-consistent character set.”

Byakuya and Hitsugaya’s eyes darted to Akon, who was unwrapping a piece of nicotine gum.

“She makes it up as she goes along,” he elaborated, cramming the gum in his mouth. “There is no translation.”

“Momo thought it might be a voice bubble, like in a cartoon,” Hitsugaya mused.

“Maybe it’s just a title to the piece,” Byakuya surmised. “Father’s Birthday Celebration’, for example.”

“Abarai-chan calls Lieutenant Abarai ‘Daddy’, not ‘Father’,” Nemu corrected.

“It was an example,” Byakuya bit off testily.

“This could be cherry shaved ice or strawberry shaved ice,” Nemu added hopefully. “Abarai-chan likes strawberry shaved ice, but I prefer cherry.”

“You are not attending this party,” Akon reminded her.

“I just thought Captain Kuchiki might be interested to know,” Nemu sniffed. “In case he felt like buying me a shaved ice. As a thank you for my services.”

--

Byakuya examined Ichika’s diagram and compared it to the celebratory items currently marring the beauty of his garden. He had the balloons. The hats. The dango. The taiyaki. Both strawberry and cherry shaved ice. “I think I have replicated everything,” he declared. “Have I missed anything?”

“You don’t have rabbit ears,” Hitsugaya replied dryly.

“The rabbit ears are symbolic,” Byakuya explained. “I am wearing the lei. You should put on a lei.”

“I am not putting on a lei. I am not in the picture at all, actually, so I think I should probably scram.”

“You could stay,” Byakuya replied, feeling a little odd about it.

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a family thing?”

Byakuya blinked. “Family gatherings are large, mandatory, and unpleasant. This is a small party and I am very fond of the Abarai.”

Hitsugaya just stared at him.

Byakuya squirmed. “The fact is… I am not good at things like this.”

“Of course you are. Ichika adores you. Rukia and Renji do, too.”

A normal person would have wrinkled their nose, or sucked their teeth, but Byakuya wasn’t really into making facial expressions, so he just made his usual one and stared off into the middle distance briefly. “Hisana was very good with people. At these times, I often think about how easily she would host a birthday party for a brother-in-law, how natural she would have been with Ichika. She loved children.” He contemplated the drawing. “I am sure she would have interpreted this perfectly, text and all.”

Hitsugaya, who did make facial expressions, blew air out of his cheeks. “If it makes you feel better, I can stay.”

“I would, very much, appreciate it.”

Seike, Byakuya’s chief retainer, shuffled out onto the engawa. “Lord Kuchiki, the Abarai are here.”

“Please escort them out here,” Byakuya replied, plunking a hat on Captain Hitsugaya’s head, and one on his own.

“It’s so unusual for Uncle Byakuya to invite us over on a Saturday,” Byakuya could hear Rukia’s voice before he could see her. His impression was that the ‘surprise’ involved in this party was a figleaf for Ichika’s sake. Abarai was a fool, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“What is this?” Abarai exclaimed as he and his family stepped through the doorway, although he did a genuine double-take at Byakuya’s flower necklace.

Ichika’s face lit up as she took in the decorations, the food. But then her expression turned to dismay at her uncle, standing still and awkward. He had missed something. It was the text. It was important after all.

Hitsugaya’s elbow jammed into his ribs. “Surprise!” the younger captain yelled. A voice bubble! Of course!

“Surprise!” Byakuya added, belatedly.

“Happy Birthday!” they shouted together, with Rukia and Ichika joining in a beat later.

“Well, I’ll be!” Abarai did his best impression of a surprised person.

“Were you surprised, Daddy!” Ichika asked, jumping up and down and tugging on her father’s hand. “Were you?”

“I was very surprised,” Abarai reassured her.

“Why is Captain Hitsugaya here?” Rukia asked, utterly befuddled.

“I heard there was shaved ice,” Hitsugaya excused very quickly.

“Uncle B did all of it, Daddy, just for you! Isn’t it perfect?”

“Of course it is,” Abarai snorted. “If Uncle B did it, how could it be otherwise?”

[juniebjoneswrites]

Bring Me Home // Harry Styles

This is War (2)

What does running do for me? Other than being a gateway drug to mindlessness, it shows me places I didn’t know existed. It also gives an incredible high that puts some meat on my bones. Like seriously. I could write love letters to my endorphins. I would ask how they’re doing and if they missed me while I was gone. I would ask how they felt in the dark and when it came time to play, I would dream of their favorite games. They have answers to questions I can’t ask, and know when to turn a blind eye to the darkness in my mind. I am thankful for their wilful ignorance. 

There’s a street I run that has a name I’ve never cared to remember but I know the way there like I know my way up the cliff. It’s been an ongoing venture. I see the lives there in the mornings as they wake up, innocent to the day that reaches beyond their grasp. I know if they stretched a little further they could touch it. Would they hand it to me if they could? They’ve seen me running for so long now they think I’m just a girl from down the street. I belong, so I must be safe. Right?

I see them in the night when they stumble home after a day when their outstretched hand just wasn’t quite good enough. They have all the makings of myself. I revel in their sorrow, but offer help. “Ah, one of the runners,” they say. They ask how I am and if I’m liking the neighborhood.  I smile politely, “It’s beautiful, I’m just around the corner,” I always motion behind us regardless of where we face. “It’s the brick one with a balcony,” usually they’re too wrapped up in their day to realize they’re all bricks with blaconies, or too polite to press further. Maybe they just think I’m being clever and safe. 

“Let me help you inside,” I call out to a man as he stumbles from his car. He gives me a look of recognition as he hands me his keys. I smile in return. We’ve spoken before. 

“Thank you,” he licks his lips. I smile wider, fighting back bile in the back of my throat. “Would you like to join me?” It would be a lie to say that all our conversations were innocent. 

“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t like that,” I respond coyly. 

“No wife,” he holds up his bare ring finger. ‘Bare’ being a generous word. There’s a tan line where his band would be, he's taken it off for the night. Maybe wants me to think he’s newly divorced. 

His wife is on a work trip for the night. I know this because she told me the day before as I helped her put a big, fancy carseat in the back of her car as the child herself was throwing a fit. “Of course it delivers the day before my trip and I have to rush before work to get it in,” she laughed and wiped her brown hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. Her wedding ring glistened in the morning sun. “Husbands are useless, but I’m sure you’ll learn that eventually.” I laughed with her and commented that he must be okay if he’s going to be watching the child while she’s gone. She tells me her daughter will be with her grandparents.

His words tumble out together and I hear them fall around me like a castle under attack. “But seem like  someone who wouldn’t care,” A flattery king. Knights may be able to stop the soldiers but they can’t fight catapults. My anger bubbles. I steal my smile. I move up the stairs and grab his keys. This is a war.

 Leaning against the frame I put the key in the door and swing it open wide. He smiles, I whistle a tune, he stumbles through. I lead him to the couch and he pulls me on top. He tastes like a deep bourbon and nachos with extra onions. I let him take my running jacket off. The knife I have in a hidden pocket clatters to the floor and I worry he’ll question the sound. He doesn’t, and it’s clear he doesn’t care that I have, in fact, been running. I tell him I need to use the restroom and that I'll be right back. He gestures vaguely so I find my own way, but not to the bathroom. How easy to trick with a promise of reward. I line up my men. 

Their family photos are on the walls telling stories of vacations and holidays. Just the three of them, the prettiest lie of them all. I stare as if I could learn some secret as to how a mother could do what she did and move on. I see theirs play out like a book and I’m filled with an anger that blinds me. They’re ready for orders.

I think of my knife so I stock back to the man on the couch only to be met with snores. Sometimes it just works out. I pity him, in his suit and tie, his loafers haphazardly in the entryway. I fantasize my life in this home. I walk their rooms and lay in their beds, I drink their juice and eat their snacks. My fingers trace the walls for fault lines and I wonder if there had been a boy here how different it would look. She wouldn’t have needed the child’s seat, he was already grown. The crayons of the walls in his room would look different here. The dolls and gowns, replaced with his stones and telescope. I am angry. A life he never knew and will never see. He would have liked a sister. Fill it with rocks.

I pull his picture from the pocket of my running pants and look for a marker.  “1993-2016” I write. “You killed him.” I am not the only one to blame. ‘He found you!’ I wanted to scream at her, ‘You left and he still found you,” but that wasn’t entirely true. I had found her. I brought her name into his home and changed things, so now I will bring his name into this home and change these things. “Elijah Perry” I write near the bottom, “Taken three months before his death.” I clip the photo to the fridge and walk out. Release.

When does the sheep become the wolf? Or was I a wolf in sheep's clothing this whole time? I am growing claws and my teeth cut my mouth as I speak. It fills with salt and blood. Maybe I’ll become like cured meat with all this salt and my decay will be slow. Agonzing. My fur will matt and my family will become afraid. I will age slowly and watch them leave, seeing their funerals from the woods edge. And when the wolf finally leaves to possess someone else, the only one who will see me to my grave will be a ghost. 

I don’t run again. I walk the veins of the city and let them guide me through it’s ebb and flow. It feels like I’ve thrown the daughter of a cliff into a stampede of wildebeests and I wonder what she’ll think when she’s older.  When do I get that scar over my eye? I think I deserve the mark. If Cain did then so do I. 

“Hey sweetie,” a voice calls from the shadow of a rundown bar. Unfortunate luck for him if he tries anything further. I flip him off and keep walking. I recognize my surroundings. There’s a pizza place up the corner.  A long night of treachery will leave you hungry. 

The warmth of the pizza fills the coldness in my body. I didn’t realize I started shaking until I reached for my water. I quickly fist my hand and push my pizza away, my breaths becoming fast and impatient. Resting my head on the table I let the solid coolness rush my mind and steady my thoughts. I focus on my breathing and count backwards from one hundred. 

100, 99, 98, 97, 96, I can see his face. 95, 94, 93, 92, I watch him at a New Year's Eve countdown grinning and blowing his whistle. 91, 90, I squeeze my eyes tighter. Press my head harder to the table 89, 88, 87, I might be sick. 86, 85, 84, 83, 82, 81, 80,79,78,77,7767574737271 

I see him on the cliff.

I’m telling him to stop.

He doesn’t.

I throw my head back and open my eyes. 48, 47, 46, 45, 44, the warped window reflects a distorted version of myself with no discernable features, just a shadow ready to disappear at the first sign of light. A fly crawling on the window stops on my face and I’m wondering if it’s an omen. 

The door opens with a jingle from the bells and a figure stands behind me. I don’t care to look at the reflection. “Fuck off,” I let out through a cry. I am very intimidating. 

They don’t say anything and walk away. I drop my head, tears sliding off my face. A moment later they return and hand me some napkins. I glance at them and then at my greasy, sauce stained pile of my own. Reluctantly I take them, “Thanks. Now please leave.” 

I wipe my face as they shuffle in place and hesitantly clear their throat. I’m instantly annoyed. I spin around to face them, “What?” I say in more of a defeated, angry tone. 

Well kids, I guess we get to answer that question here and now. I let my head fall to my arm that rests on the seat’s back. “Of course,” I mumble. “Why not?” Turning around I pull the pizza back to me and take a bite. He still doesn’t move. 

“Well if you’re going to,” I motion to the seat next to me. He takes it and looks even more uncomfortable which makes me laugh slightly. “You’re being really weird, you know,” I say through a bite of pizza. “If I didn’t know you you would have a bloody nose already.”

He sits up straighter, “Sorry,” he picks at the paint on his nails. “I, uh, just saw you and recognized you from running and the gas station. Just wanted ask if you’re okay,”

“Why?” I ask harshly then, closing my eyes, wince at my stupidity. 

He looks confused, “You don’t remember?” “I remember the gas station just fine,”

“No, uh, we’ve been waving at each other... while we run,” it sounded more like a question than a fact. His eyes dart around. “For, like, a few months before the gas station and then I stopped seeing you,” he trails off. 

I started running after Elijah went missing. I wasn’t a runner before then so what sparked this new interest, I couldn��t tell you. I ran night and day after realizing it was the one thing that stopped my thinking and focused my breathing. There is a lot I don’t remember from the past year, this being one of them.

“You don’t remember?” he asks. I don’t say anything. He nods understanding, “I just thought you recognized me but didn’t want to…. Interrupt… or something,”

“I have no problem interrupting,”  I reply. He slightly laughs, “but what’s wrong you can’t fix, so,” I take another bite of pizza. “And I wave at all the runners I pass. Good to have people remember you if you go missing,” I give a slight wave of my hand and shrug. 

He nods. “Well I hope I see you running again,” he gets up, unsure of his movements, I guess not wanting to push any further.

“June,” I say, as he rights the chair, “That’s my name. Fair since I know yours.”

“Nice to meet you, June.” 

My smile lasts until he’s past the shop's window and I'm back to staring at my face. I think of Mulan crossing her bridge and wiping half her makeup off in her reflection. I think of Harry and what in the actual Wattpad hell just happened. I close my eyes and rest my chin in my hand while I finish the second pizza. Harry’s face turns into Elijah’s and the waves start crashing. My body tells me to run. 

(1)/ 2 / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6)

[waternilly]

The End of an Era

Ship: Blackleg Sanji x f!OC Language: english Word count: 1.5k Warnings: none Ao3 link: here | Wattpad link: here Summary: Musicals! But what if this time the rivals were lovers in real life?

Many weeks and hours of hard work had come to their end. Tonight was the big finale of the musical Florence had built with both old and new friends over the semester. It hadn’t gone without troubles, but they had made it in the end.

As she waited between the wings on the side of the stage, the young woman let her mind drift off.

She thought back about the moment Mozart l’Opéra Rock had been announced as this year’s project. How all the students who would graduate in June shared the same excitement and thrill at the prospect.

She remembered the audition and how learning the lyrics to “Si Je Défaille” had been easy, being engraved in her memory ever since she was ten. She also remembered when she had to show up at the next audition to sing “Tatoue-Moi” on demand of her professor.

Florence had already performed as a male character in a previous project and she knew the professor’s demand was far from innocent. They had something in mind.

And she was right. The next week, once auditions for both singers, actors and dancers alike were over, the results were published.

1. Florence Moire ..... Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

A smile had crept on her face instantly. But what made her even happier was the name just two lines under hers.

3. Sanji Vinsmoke ..... Antonio Salieri

Not only would she perform as the main character of what was probably her favourite musical. The one to act as her rival was her own boyfriend.

Images of her sweet Sanji in black hair and eyeshadow had immediately crossed her mind and she couldn’t wait to see it happen.

That evening, the entire crew had gone to a local student pub and celebrated all night long. Florence lost count of how many times she got congratulated or all the teasing her and Sanji had gotten for acting out rivals.

It was one of Flo’s favourite memories. Everything felt right. No pressure or stress related to the production, school or the internship yet. Only pleasure, joy, excitement.

Rehearsals had started the same week, beginning with a script reading. Songs from the original musical were played whenever they were reached throughout the session. A few voice cracks and poorly acted sentences were uttered, but they were laughed off.

Florence and all the singers then went through some coaching first. Even though they were all decent already, they were still merely amateurs. Some had gotten such lessons the previous years, but everyone welcomed the tips from the teacher with open arms.

While those were reaching their end, they simultaneously started rehearsing with the actors. Their friends had already started learning their lines and now it was time for them to do as well.

To help with that process, Florence would often play the entire musical as background noise while studying or working on anything, to Sanji’s greatest amusement.

He early on realized that the one he tenderly referred to as ‘princess’ was nervous about the pressure put upon her shoulders. He often reminded her that the professor wouldn’t have given her the part if they didn’t believe her to be capable of it. He also loved to add that she would make for a great Mozart and an amazing rival, which would often help her calm down, at least temporarily.

As the dates approached and the rehearsals became longer -every song being performed in their entirety, accompanied by the dancers- the pressure among the whole crew rose. People started worrying about costumes or set pieces not being finished on time, about black outs on stage, about wigs falling off or ladies tripping over their massive dresses.

All of these faded shortly after luckily and everything was done in due time. The final rehearsal in full costume and make up also reassured everyone about what they had created. Which meant, representations could start. But not without some last minute preparations.

Bonney was left with her bright pink hair despite the professor’s reclamations who feared she would steal the show. The young woman’s determination was stronger however and she refused to incline, making her the very first pink haired Constanz Weber.

Luffy, who interpreted everyone’s favourite comic relief, Rosenberg, got his hair coloured grey with sprays often used for Halloween. It was slicked back and his face was painted bright white with two outrageously red spots on the cheeks. All of it, topped off with pencil-drawn eyebrows and two fake moles.

Sanji agreed to changing his style for the occasion. He got his hair dyed in a dark brown and slicked it all back except for one rebellious lock. Needless to say he was a sight for sore eyes like this. But every evening, before the representation, the benevolent make up artists who were fellow students painted his eyes with black eyeshadow, crayon and eyeliner. Black lipstick had also been considered at some point but was eventually discarded. And aside from all of that, he also walked around with black painted nails for a week.

As for Florence, the main thing she had to do was get a haircut. Her pixie hair had grown out during the semester and it required some touch ups. She was the one who had the wildest, most natural hairdo. It only got comped and sprayed to create some extra volume, but nothing too perfect. Her eyes got the same treatment as her lover’s however, which they liked to point out.

And then it was time.

The premiere.

Everyone was nervous to their core while simultaneously trying to help their friends calm down. Singers and actors alike reunited back stage to warm up their voices, a loud buzzing sound filling the room. Dancers took that opportunity to stretch and prepare as well. The entire crew was in its own bubble, in symbiosis with each other. Any conflicts that might have existed before were forgotten for now.

“Are you nervous, my love?” Sanji had asked his girlfriend just before she had to walk on stage.

“Yes,” she admitted.

With a smile, he had said: “You’ll feel better once you’re up there.”

She thanked him with a smile.

“Maybe turn on your microphone before it’s too late though,” he had teased.

Florence agreed, flipped the switch and ran up on stage. Sanji had been right. Merely seconds later, as she was uttering her very first line, she was calm, confident, poised. Every movement, every sentence flowed naturally. She felt good, at home.

To everyone’s surprise, nothing went wrong during the entire first act, which their professor naturally pointed out backstage during the break. They also complimented everyone’s acting, singing and dancing, clearly ecstatic with the result.

Flo knew what would come next. Someone started playing music while another person shouted to turn off the lights. Everyone jumped around and loudly shouted in unison with the music. A few even climbed on the table in the middle of the room to dance on it in a silly way, making the whole crew laugh.

That little tradition remained during the entire week of run, lasting the entire entre act every time. A twenty minute break of partying halfway through the musical.

Except it was now time to walk back on stage for the last time.

A loud ominous music played and Florence stepped into the light.

She gave everything she had in her, jumping and running around on stage.

Sanji then walked up himself, followed by Bonney who gave her best vocal performance yet.

Before long though, they reached the end of the musical and with it, the famous “Vivre à en Crever” scene. The only time Flo got to sing with her boyfriend throughout the entire performance.

She started, careful to keep a steady and clear voice. Then Sanji joined in. And ultimately, they sang together.

It was always one of the most poignant parts of the show and Florence had lost count of how many times she had almost kissed Sanji during it, never giving in however. Until now, whoever didn’t know them personally couldn’t have guessed they were a couple.

But that was about to change as it was time to salute and Florence had an idea in mind.

Once everyone had bowed in their usual position, they all started singing the most famous song of the musical -”Tatoue moi”- to celebrate the final representation. Florence took advantage of the context to ask Bonney to switch places with her since she was traditionally between her and Sanji. Florence wondered if the audience would react and how if they were to. By now, majority of the public wasn’t even from their college.

She started by just tangling their fingers but soon enough they were smiling at each other while singing eye to eye. When they reached the end of the song, Florence stood on the tip of her toes and pecked Sanji’s lips. He only grinned down at her before kissing her back.

Audible gasps, soon followed by extra cheers, could be heard throughout the audience. The public’s reaction was even better than what Flo was hoping for. She imagined the surprise it could be to see two people you pictured as rivals during the past two hours suddenly kiss. It amused her as well.

It might have been her last performance with this great crew of people but Florence had no reason to be sad. They had all gone out with a bang; Ace, Kid, Bonney, Sanji, herself. That night wouldn’t be one of mourning the end of an era. It would be a night to celebrate what they had achieved.

A/N: Bit of a cheesy ending yes, but oh well ^^” Please let me know what you thought of it, I haven’t written 3rd person fanfics in English in literally so long! Also, yeah, OC! Long time since I last wrote one. Any comments are welcome ^^ Thank you very much for reading <3

[geminimoonbeamx]

Of All The Things Unsaid

A/N: Lately my life has been emotionally taxing af and I needed to project it somewhere. I’ve never written anything quiet like this- I hope you guys get some enjoyment out of it? Side note- listen to Goodbye by Apparat if you really want to hurt. 

Rating: Pretty M- heavy cursing, sexual situations, drug use and character death. All around heartbreak.

Summary: You loved him, and he loved you. That’s the tragedy of it all, isn’t it? A Bucky x Plus Size Reader one-shot

You and Bucky had a routine.

One that was easily fallen into- that you'd stuck to for months. Seven months and two weeks, give or take, to be exact...christ. Had it really been over  half a year since that fateful night in the thirty first floor commons? The one where he had been plagued by old demons, and you by new ones and the electric attraction that had always fizzed between the two of you, the one that you’d both shyly ignored and toyed with, had finally come to a head that night.

Both of you need a crutch. Something tangible that could quiet the dark thoughts that we’re pitt like in your head. You could keep them at bay during the day time- but there, in the midnight haze it was harder. 

And you’d found it, something to quiet your head, that chilly night in December.

In his arms, your back pressed against his chest as the two of you had turned your friendly cuddling on the expensive couch, into slow, deep dry humping. The kind where he had been panting in your ear hot and present and so real and you’d let out sweet little hums as you pressed your ass into his crotch, like you’d been wanting to for so long.

When he finally kissed you, his big hand cradling your jaw as he turned your head and sealed his lips over yours, you should have known you we’re way in over your head.

You thought you’d felt good before- thought you’d felt pleasure and attraction and all that good stuff- but kissing Bucky felt euphoric on a level that was, and is, still hard to comprehend. The way his lips felt, soft and firm and scratchy because of his close cut beard. Wet and warm and searching.

After that night, after the two of you had made each other come so many times that there was no room in your lust ridden heads for darkness-

The routine had started.

It only happens twice a month, on good months usually. Sometimes, rare times, its an opposite case and the two of you fuck every day for a week.

But it always goes a little something like this:

The two of you act normal around each other in public- like you haven't tasted every part of each other there is to taste; spit and come and the breath from each others lungs,

and the team is none less the wiser. For the most part- you do however work with the top agents, assassins and superheros in the world. A couple of people have figured out. Everyone keeps their respected space though, which is appreciated..

It’s always you asking for it.

By text, or call. By small touches and longing glances. You’d figured that it was because he still wasn't the best at asking for what he wanted, at first. That maybe it was just him not being the boldest crayon in the box.

But everyday he seemed to bloom brighter- Steve frequently telling him stories about the “old days”, about Bucky in his prime and how much of himself he had gotten back. That swagger- he’d never lose it. That magnetism, that charm that lied just beneath the surface. Well it wasn't so hidden anymore.

He smiled. Cracked jokes. Was a stark contrast to the man that you’d first met, all those years ago in an airport in Berlin.

And yet, for some reason, he continued to keep you at arms length. Sometimes farther then that actually.

He made you feel...so many things. Overwhelming things. For one, no man had ever put the effort into your body and making you feel good. Bucky would wring three, sometimes four orgasms out of you before he even fucked you some nights. Would make you scream and writhe and beg and then quiet you, by giving you even more.

It was more then the sex, too. It was the tenderness. It was the way he’d drag his hands, and his mouth across every part of you. All the parts you’d kept hidden. Jiggly parts, sagging, marked. Scars and stretch marks, Bucky didn't mind. He liked all of you. He wanted all of you, on those nights.

Worshiped every part of you.

And you did the same. All the ugly he saw about himself, you saw none of it. He was all hard muscle and sinew covered in soft skin and soft hair. Adonis, Apollo, Zeus himself. A god, your god.

Being on your knees for him, just felt so right.

At first.

But then…

Well there’s only so much one’s pride can take. Especially someone like you, who had always been so, so prideful. Out of the seven deadlies, that one had always gotten you into the most trouble.

It wasn't just that you always had to reach out first; the multiple calls and texts that it took to get through to him sometimes. Getting left on seen could make anyone itch, irritated.

But it was the fact that he’d open up to you, just tiny fragments and little bits at a time, and then close all the way up. Ziplock style. Airtight and unyielding

In the darkness of your room, or his; in soft sheets warmed by each other’s body heat you cracked open like an egg for him. Spilled your guts, yellow yolk of your soul to him as he massaged your scalp, his fingers tangling in your hair. Pressed kisses that seared into your skin.

He listened to you, talked to you. Laughed with you. Fucked you- hard and mercilessly and then gently like you were the most important thing, the most fragile, beautiful thing.

The intimacy that had built between the two of you was overwhelming and one day it slapped you in the face, knocked the breath out of your lungs that you we’re very, very much in love with him.

And Bucky? Well you could tell that those feelings we aren't reciprocated.

He didn't want this, whatever this was, to exist outside of the moments where it was hidden in the cover of starry nights and locked rooms.

It wasn't like you'd never experienced this before, because you had. Many a time. It came with the territory of being a plus sized woman in a world we’re European beauty standards didn't quite cover you.

Bucky wasn't embarrassed of you. You strongly believed that...at first.

He just wasn't ready for any kind of relationship. Not yet. Maybe later on…

But seven months later and you we’re starting to doubt what his intentions we’re.

It was little things:

The pats on the shoulder he gave you in front of the team.

The way him and that agent- the SHIELD one who was nice enough but looked at him like a piece of steak- seemed to be so chummy.

The way he ardently argued that he didn't want to go do things in the daylight; he was tired. Beat from missions. Hated people. Just wanted to be with you, or so he said. 

--

The beginning of the end came one night. After a long intense session of Bucky pounding you into the mattress, of his grinding hips and bruising lips-

“How was therapy today?” You questioned innocently as he laid his head on your chest. You played with the damp, sweat dried, tendrils of his hair idly.

“It was okay” Was all the answer you got.

“Yeah? How is it going with her? I was talking to Dr. Tessa(your own therapist) and she said that she was one of the best?” You press on. You shouldn't have.

Bucky looks up at you, resting his chin on your soft breast “I miss the ones in Wakanda, but she’s fine I guess. I just need to get to know her a little better before I can say for sure, you know? It’s not...easy...for me to talk about som’a the shit in my head”

Yeah you did know. You play with his hair a little more, as he stares at you and waits.

“You know you can talk to me, always. About anything, right?” you say, forcing yourself to look into his storm blue eyes. He blinks, long. And then looks away.

“I know. But trust me when I say you don't want that, Y/N” He announces after a moment and starts to pull himself from your breast, from you. From this conversation.

“I don't really think you know what I want” You reply strongly, holding on to him. Trying to keep him close.

It doesn't work. He’s stronger than you, in more ways than one.

The two of you lay there on your backs, for longer then a moment. Staring at the ceiling.

You don't know why you feel like crying, but this feels like all those thoughts that you’d had bubbling up- you knew he didn't want more and here you we’re, pushing anyway. He must be getting annoyed. Must be sick of the constant texts. Of you buzzing around him-

“What do you want?” His deep, velvet voice rings out in the dark room and you force yourself to stay calm. With his hearing, he’d pick up if your breathing changed. If you started sobbing.

Because you cant tell him- can't stand the idea of his rejection.

“I just want you to be able to trust me like I trust you” You whisper back and he wiggles closer so that your shoulders touch.

“I do trust you” He chuckles and you're happy he keeps it so damn dark in this room. If you guys we’re in yours there would be candles everywhere. He’d see your face and the expression on it.

“Then what happened on the mission? You came back...in pretty bad shape”

“It went south- I was able to get it right again. What happened in between isn't really any of your concern, baby doll” you wonder if he means to sound so? Void.

“But I am concerned...if you wanted to talk about it, about any of it-”

“I dont Y/N. Especially not tonight, okay?”

Ouch.

But you guess it was warranted. You we’re trying to make him do things he didn't want to. Trying to make him feel things he didn't.

You had no right.

“Okay, I understand. Um, sorry. I can go” You start as you sit up.

Where had he thrown your shirt?  You’re scrambling, trying to locate your clothes in the dark while pulling the sheet to your chest because it doesn't feel right to be naked around him anymore “I’ll go. I just”

“No, you dont have to” Bucky protests, as he sits up too,

and reaches for you  

You avoid his grabby hands and slide out of his bed. Hah, there's your shirt, tossed haphazardly on his night stand.

“Really, Bucky it’s okay” You insist, feeling stupid as you flail around in the dark, hunting for your pajama bottoms. Hating yourself and this situation. Why? Had you let it get this far.

“Doll, Y/N. Stop” He schooches to the end of the bed and grabs your small, doughy hand in his large one. You look down at him, can make out the silhouette of him staring up at you.

“Stay” is all he has to say.

And you should go. Protect what's left of your heart and run.

But you crawl back into the circle of his arms.

You don't feel much better as you drift to sleep. But you know he does, as he nuzzles his nose in your hair. Makes that almost purring sound he does when he’s truly content.

And you realize...you’ve traded your happiness for his.

Would move heaven and earth to see this man that had been through so much pain smile. Even if it hurt you. 

--

Days later- the nail is driven into the coffin when you happen to stumble upon a set of assassins in a conference room.

That sounds unlikely right? Like the universe would have to set it up for that to even happen?

You’d been running an errand for Pepper-  not minding because to you she was the queen of the universe and you liked hanging out with her, made you feel normal even though you’re literally the farthest from, when you stopped in your tracks.

The hallway outside the cracked conference room isn’t empty, assistants and Stark industry employees with clearance to this level  walk freely.

You think that’s how you manage to spy on the spy’s.

They speak in broken Russian, Bucky and Natasha.

He’s sat on one of the swivel chairs and she’s perched on the table.

You admit, you don’t hear much, as you stand by the door, just out of sight. Lurking in the shadows doesn’t feel as cool as it looks in movies.

“I don’t know, Natalia. It’s just- I’m overwhelmed a little bit by it. By her” Bucky admits, jaw clenching for a moment. You can only see the back of his head really but you can imagine he doesn’t look to pleasant.

“Then you need to tell her. She deserves to know” Natasha argues, soft and firm in that way that only she can pull of.

Overwhelmed? Who is She? Are you she? Is she you?

“She doesn’t deserve it- I- I don’t want to mess her up over it” Bucky goes on but Natasha cuts him off.

“So just being distant is your game plan? What? Are you just going to be an ass until she gets the point? You and Y/N both deserve better then that” and then she speaks in Russian, it sounds like a curse. She punctuates it with a shake of her head.

Your heart is pounding. You’re surprised he can’t hear it. It’s making you dizzy, it feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest- she said your name. It is you they’re talking about.

You should leave. Why are your feet suddenly cemented to the ground?

They speak in Russian some more and you’re really trying to grasp it some of it so you can look it up on google translate.

“I just need space to figure it out ? You’re not making it any better! I already feel like shit about everything, okay?” Bucky snaps in English and ice water floods your veins.

You knew it. You had overwhelmed him. He didn’t know how to let you down easy. He’s telling Natasha as much and you’ve never felt so embarrassed, shamed in your life.

You cling to the thin tablet full of documents Pepper had sent you away with, cling until your fingers ache and force yourself to walk away.

You don’t want to hear anymore. Think you’ll literally be sick if you do.

You’re halfway down the hallway, all but running away from the scene you’d stumbled on. You don’t have super soldier hearing, so you don’t hear the rest of the conversation-

“She deserves more than me. It doesn’t matter that I love- that I feel how I feel about her. She’s- she’s fucking sunshine. And I’m-“ Bucky struggled to get out. He feels so much for you, it’s hard to put it in words.

“A good man?” Natasha interjects with a raised brow. Daring him to deny it.

“Tainting her” Bucky corrects her. And he’s wrong, so wrong but he thinks he’s right and he’s so stubborn and Natasha knows not even she will get him to budge.

“If you don’t tell her how you feel, you’re going to lose her. You ready to deal with that, soldat?”

And Bucky's mouth gets dry at the thought.

What he doesn’t realize, in that moment, is he already has. 

--

It starts off with you being more distant towards him then you ever had. You keep a wide berth, never in the same space as him unless forced. Team meetings and meals/ but even then you are all but running away from him.

You used to text him all of the time- memes, asking him about his day. Little things that made him glow bright.

Not anymore- there’s radio silence from you now. He dims a little darker every day that he receives nothing from you.

Weeks go by. You drift further from him and it’s like his heart is unraveling in his hands. He can’t manage to pull on a string that will pull you back to him- when he tries it just seems to unravel further.

He texts. Multiple times. An embarrassing amount of times.

You don’t even read them. Don’t even open them.

He goes out of his way to aim conversations at you when you are around- and you avoid it. The awkwardness handing heavy around you as you avoid talking to him directly.

He wants to see you. He misses you. Wants you. Your skin and your laughter and your eyes- the way they used to be soft and accepting for him always.

What happened? Had you finally realized just how fucked up he was? Finally come to the conclusion that you needed to cut it off.

He hasn’t felt like this since before the war. He remembers the way heartbreak tastes, acidic and at the back of his throat.

Had it ever burnt this bad, though? Cut this deep?

He hates everything, the pain causing him to dig up old wounds.

He hates Hydra and what they did to him. He hates that he’s not dead, that it would take a hell of a lot to kill him now.

He hates that it takes Asgardian mead to get him drunk and Thor seems to be out of it at the moment and it takes three hundred years to brew.

He hates that Steve and Natasha and Sam seem to pick up on his sour mood and won’t leave him the fuck alone. He hates that Natasha had him thinking for even a moment that you loved him back.

He can’t hate you though. It would probably be easier than loving you, but Bucky can’t do anything but love you. It’s like he was built to love you- to adore you with every fiber of his being.

He’s tainted goods. Some days he feels like he’s redeemed himself- or at least is on that road. And others he feels the blood on his hands threaten to drown him.

He wasn’t kidding when he said you were sunshine - that you’d come into his life and brightened it in a way that he couldn’t have expected. That he now realized he didn’t deserve.

Bucky takes every mission he can. Anything to run away from the pain of you not loving him back. 

--

Three months later; Tony Stark decides to have a party. It’s not a rare occurrence by any means. This ones a luncheon for the reinstatement of SHIELD.

It’s a controversial topic and not everyone is on board, but the decor is beautiful and the catering is superb.

You’d forced yourself into your old routines- ones that didn’t involve Bucky. Kickboxing, yoga. Gotten your sleep schedule back to where it was- at least when you weren’t on missions. Flew back home whenever you could to see your family. Spent time with your friends *couch, Wanda*

You were still fucking devastated, but you were maintaining.

No one would ever know that you were heart broken beyond repair; not with the pretty, black and long sleeved off the shoulder pencil dress you wore. Not with how perfectly sculpted and highlighted your face was- your hair shiny and styled.

You charm with the best of them; mingling with the three hundred or so SHIELD agents, Stark employees and congress people.

If there’s one thing you’d worked hard to perfect in your time as an Avenger- it was your public persona. Your game face. It’s why you always made sure to look presentable, all caked up and girly. Being fat, you already had to try 10x harder than you would, but also being enhanced? A mutant? A previously labeled terrorist? Oh yeah, the game face was a must.

It breaks when you see Bucky at the bar, laughing with that agent. The pretty red headed one who looked at him like the whole meal he was; petite and tight all over, you’d be lying to yourself and also being the world's biggest hater to deny her beauty.

He looked...like he was having a good time. Laughing with her and Sam and Steve. Looked right next to her.

He had a thing for redheads, any how, right? Steve had mentioned one from the forties and him and Natasha…

Maybe you’d never been his type. That would make it all make sense.

You excused yourself from the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Wanda can feel you bubbling and you smile and nod, like you always do, but she knows you feel like you’re dying.

She can feel it, too.

“I just- um- I’m going to go powder my nose, or something”

Powdering your nose equals you doing a line of coke in a private bathroom. Trying to recenter yourself enough to go on with the rest of the lunch.

You knew it would help, it always did. Had been getting you through some nasty shit as of late.

So you suck up those fine white lines, off of one of your credit cards and let them turn the chaos in your head to a dull buzz. The drip tastes foul, but feels good, as good as you’re going to get.

You make sure your nose is clean, that your hair is fluffed and your lipstick is re applied. No evidence of what had happened.

You don’t need to be labeled the coke head superhero. You doubt that will do for the teams image.

Running into Bucky in hallway on your way back- well considering your life and luck, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

Hell, there were literal hundreds of hallways in this building- and yet there he was.

In his form fitting charcoal trousers and his black button down. With his hair pulled back into low bun. His sharp jaw on display.

You miss kissing it. Missed the way it felt beneath your lips.

“Hey…” you trail off. Feeling alien and high and anxious.

He keeps his eyes trained downwards at you, like he can’t look away and internally you squirm.

“Hi- it’s um, good to see you” He gruffs, sounding equally as awkward as you feel “I- you haven’t been around much lately”

“Yeah, I guess not”

He bites the inside of his cheek.

“I hope you’re doing alright” is all he can think to say, out of all the things in his head, that’s what he chooses.

And you can’t help it. You snort. At the audacity.

After all he’d put you through, for him to say that? God, why is your life like this?

“I’m fine, Bucky, if you’d excuse me” you try to walk around him and it’s like muscle memory, like he doesn’t even have control of himself.

His blood and bone hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, halting you.

Your stomach bubbles with emotion.

“I-I miss you” Bucky whispers. He’s so close you can feel that heat you’d longed for radiating from his body. You can smell him. Taste him on the back of your tongue…

“That’s so not fair” you protest, looking him in the eye as you say it. For the first time, mustering up your courage and saying your piece “You don’t get to say that to me- not after I literally begged you- you pushed me away, Bucky”

“I know”

“You did this to me. Fuck” your voice is shaky and his eyes are pained.

“I know, doll baby, I’m so sorry. If we could just, if you could just let me-“ You hate that you want to cave. That seeing him this hurt destroys you.

You can’t let him finish. You’ll want to do what he says, you’ll want to make him happy again.

And you can’t trade your happiness for his anymore.

“No, I can’t. I just can’t, so please let me go. I have to go” you tug your wrist out of his grip and he lets you. His own hand, balled into a fist slapping back down to his thigh as he watches you walk as fast as your heels will carry you down the hallway.

Away from him.

His face feels numb as the tears rim in his eyes.

Everything in his body tells him to chase you- but you’d asked him to let you go and although it feels wrong, and he hates it, he’ll do as you asked. 

--

It was supposed to be a routine mission. Not exactly an in and out, taking down a Hydra cell in Beirut.

You, Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Tony were supposed to be more than enough. Supposed to be, being the key word.

Hydra was a lot of things, never to be underestimated. And you guys hadn’t. All the recon, didn’t prepare you for the fact that they had been planning on you guys finding them.

There were extra men. It was a fire fight- with Tony in the sky and Steve and Bucky literally ripping men limb from limb in an attempt to even the ante-

You hold your own, your training coming in handy.

But it all happens so fast.

Youre caught mid teleport.

You feel a crushing weight in your chest. You just think you’d just been punched, hard. It’s just pressure, really, until the man in tax gear pulls the large knife from your flesh.

Blood, your blood dripping coating and dripping from the blade that had just been embedded in you,

Cold shock runs through you and your ears ring so loud you can’t hear anything over them. He goes to plunge it back, but your eyes snap closed and you use all of your energy to teleport from his arms.

You don’t get far. Falling in a heap at his feet, but it gives you enough time to watch the bullet pierce his head from behind. A bullet in his forehead oozing before he drops, dead weight beside you.

Youre gasping. Both hands clutching at your chest that you almost can’t feel. It doesn’t hurt, and that scares you more.

No pain. That’s bad right?

No pain, but your hands are slippery wet and when you look at them, coated in crimson.

No pain but you can’t catch your breath. Can’t take a breath. Are gasping around the hole inside you.

Then there’s black pant clad legs infront of you, heavy combat boots familiar, before you’re laid on your back, a hand coming to cradle the back of your head, tilting it off or her cold, cement floor.

Then, you’re looking up at Bucky who has yanked off his eye mask and who is staring down at you, his blue eyes wide. Scared, more fear then you’ve ever seen in them

His pink lips moving. He’s saying something but your ears are ringing so loudly still.

“B-Bucky” you gasp. Really- it comes out as more of a gurgle. Fear runs through you at the sound of it and you tremble.

“You’re okay, it’s okay, Y/N. Don’t talk- we have to keep pressure on the wound” he moves your hands so that his big one can hold the wound. Yours instantly reach to grip his, bloody fingers intertwining.

You’re leaking.

From your eyes and your mouth. From the hole. Tears and blood and soul exiting your body.

And all Bucky can do is watch. Is grasp you, try to keep pressure as he screams into his com that you need a medevac, that you’re hurt bad, that you need help bad.

He’s usually stony, calm. All his years in the army, and then in Hydra. He’s always calculated on missions.

How can he be calculated when you’re dying. When there’s nothing he can do. When sunlight is melting in his hands.

“I-“ it’s a gurgle again, bloody and frothy and your eyes unfocus. “B-b-b”

“Shh, baby, please don’t talk. It’s alright, you’re gonna be o-kay” he chokes on a sob because it’s a lie. You’re not. He knows the human body- he knows that where the knife had pierced you- he’d hit an artery.

You’re bleeding out, he knows it- you have minutes. Less than. And there’s nothing he can fucking do.

You don’t hurt, you want to tell him. It’s okay. You want to tell him.

I love you so much.

You’re so stupid for never telling him.

You try to open your mouth but it’s full- you can’t swallow and blood flows from the corners. Into your hair, across your face.

Instead you smile, and it’s bloody and morbid, and you squeeze his hand with both of yours. It’s weak and barley there but he can feel it. He squeezes back.

Squeezes long after you’ve gone limp and the spark, all that light and life and vibrance, leaves your eyes. Until Steve grabs his shoulder, forces him to let go of you. Of your corpse.

I love you, he thinks as he watches Tony, in his iron man suit, carry you away. You’re limp and stiff in his metal arms.

I love you.

Neither of you ever got the chance to tell each other.

And now you never will. 

@peacefulwriter88 @geekyweed @gifsbysimplysonia @prettybubblesintheair @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @sad-af1121 @thatawkwardtinyperson @brieannakeogh @paulxrudd @prettyyoungtragedy @whichwayisthebeach-seabass @shay-iamiam @kagome1414 @thejamesoldier @papi-chulo-bucky @spidey-babe-parker @rachelle-on-the-run

Aaaaaaand all I can say is I’m sorry? That I don’t know where this came from and I apologize for trauma? I love you guys?

Let me know what you thought of this one and we can all be sad together.

[sixnna-contixllo]

Squigly's Birthday Out

When Squigly wakes up, the first thing she is treated to is a lovely handmade breakfast made by Simon and Daniel, both of whom present her the breakfast covered in a dusting of flour. The breakfast consists of fresh blueberry crepes served in a rich and delicate cream and shaved dark chocolate, served alongside a cup of Squigly’s favorite oolong tea with a careful mixture of honey and spices. On the tray is a handmade card, decorated by the little artist himself, and signed lovingly by each member of the family- Simon, Selene, Roberto, Leviathan, and Daniel. Inside the card reads.

“Happy birthday, Squigly! We hope we can make today wonderful for you! Enjoy your breakfast and get ready for what we got planned for you!”

While Squigly eats, Simon happily cuddles on his mother’s lap, the little bomb wrapping his arms around her as he snuggles into her. He loves getting to celebrate birthdays, how much fun they are, how happy they are when they celebrate together. Seeing his mother happy and smiling makes him so happy too, and when she enjoys what he and his father made makes it even better.

After breakfast, and everything is cleaned up, Daniel escorts Squigly to the bathroom, ready to give her the second treat of the day. Inside the bathroom, Daniel was gone above and beyond to make an absolutely superb bubble bath. Everything has been given plenty of attention, from the pink and white mountains of bubble foam swirling on the bubbling steaming water that give off sweet aromas of high-end perfume to the variety of candles and incense that twinkle in the dim room. Music pipes softly from the radio, a glass of relaxing red wine and a small plate of chocolates-in a heart-shaped box no less- sit aside magazines, books, and an awaiting neck pillow for Squigly to slip herself into and enjoy a nice rest.

And, as a special treat, Daniel gives Squigly what he describes as a “massage he picked up from reading a book on Eastern traditions” for a history part he wants to record. The massage involves warm oil, hot stones, and a special trick that involves sending soothing vibrations across the body to ease muscle joints. It’s nothing lewd, rather, Daniel takes his time to ensure he does everything right, from adding just the right amount of hot stones to balance soothing heat, to gently moving her arms and legs as she relaxes, making sure not to mess a single step up while his lover relaxes in her bath.

After the soothing bath, everyone gets ready to head out shopping. Selene would explain that, since it was kind of hard to pick out a single gift for her that they didn’t know if she had, they thought it would be a nice trip to take her to the shops and malls and let her pick out whatever she wishes. Daniel, however, almost mention something else but quickly stops himself before saying anything else.

At the mall, Squigly is taken through all sorts of shops and boutiques- bookstores, music shops, fashionwear of all varieties and styles, even a store that caters exclusively to retro items. Whatever she wants, be it clothes, books, a new radio, anything she desires the family makes sure she’ll receive. Money is no object for her, and whatever she wants, she will get. It’s not spoiling her, but rather letting her know that she is worthy of that type of care.

After the mall, with whatever Squigly got in bags and boxes, the Contiellos feel a bit hungry, so they decide to head to a little café and bakery just by the hotel, for a light lunch. There, among sandwiches, meats, pastas, and pastries, everyone orders a delicious lunch, enjoying some good old fashioned conversation and banter as any family would do, Simon happily drawing on the placemat with his always ready crayons as he cuddled in Daniel’s lap, to Roberto tells Daniel a story about when Squigly was younger, she once ate almost a whole cake and spent the rest of her birthday in bed, wiping icing off her face as she dealt with a stomach ache. This makes Squigly blush, and just as any woman would do, young or old, hides her face as her father relates such a story-although she can’t help but giggle at the silly thought of her at the age of 7, wiping buttercream from her cheeks as she sang Happy Birthday.

They come back to the house, and setting everything down, Leviathan reminds them that it is now 2:30, and they “must be getting ready if they’re to make it to 4:30.” At these words, everyone starts to get changed- although, Squigly doesn’t know why. Everyone starts to get showered and changed into more formal wear- suits, a formal dress, even Simon gets a little bath and polish with a little bowtie! Through all this, Squigly goes the flow, albeit a bit confused, as everyone just tells her it’s a surprise. Leviathan even answers with just a chuckle and a promise that he has be sworn to keep the secret just that- a secret, and she’ll find out soon.

At 3:45, everyone heads out, decked out in fancy formal wear. Daniel’s arm linked around Squigly’s, wearing a formal jacket that was kinda itchy in some spots but since Squigly said he looked handsome in kept it, his one arm gingerly cradling Simon, who was all bundled up in a white scarf to keep warm, Selene and Roberto behind them, with Leviathan keeping a close eye through Squigly’s head. The afternoon air was cool, kissed with the slowly setting sun to streak the endless ocean of blue above into a crimson and orange miasma. Past the crowd of people, be they those with four arms with one girl on each arm to the funky looking guys with the sunglasses and bags of money, Squigly is held close, not alone, but kept walking alongside her family, who eagerly thrill her with hints and stories of what her surprise would be. Simon draws a little picture to show her a big looking room, Selene and Roberto slyly suggest that perhaps it’ll be “much too late” to head back home, and Daniel could only blush and chuckle, kissing her cheek as she racks her brain to figure it out

Then, after hopping a train- the 4:30 Meridian Area Rapid- the Contiellos find themselves at their destination. Outside the gates of the Contiello Estate. The golden courtyard gates draped in streamers and balloons, limos and sports cars driven by flashy bachelors and old money line the circled drive leading to the massive opera house, which since restoration, has transformed into a breathing center of art, music, and celebration. The air is filled with music, swing jazz or the newest piece performed by in-house artists, laughter, cheering, the clinking of cocktail glasses. It’s a gala event- held by the Meridian Restoration Society, to display the walls and halls with memories of pre-Renoir tradition, music, songs and art.

To the Contiellos, it’s a dream from the past, molded and fixed here in plain sight. And, if you could see the look on Squigly’s face, she’d be flushed seven shades of purple how excited she was.

The evening is compromised of heading to the great hall, where tables stand lifted above a dance floor to watch couples and troupes dance to the melody of a 20-piece band. Here, the Contiellos rest, order some house wine, and enjoy the atmosphere. Roberto says this reminds him of when he first took Selene on their first date, with Leviathan playfully adding some commentary to his old master’s story, while Simon and Daniel busily tend to Squigly, delighting her with questions on how she likes it and what she wants to do first, which if they know Squigly, is enough to make her fluster like royalty.

Then, the family heads to the banquet hall, where they are served a banquet of epic proportions- lobster, steak, fresh cut roasts, exotic seafood imported from high-end shop, sushi, and poultry, as well as a dessert table of cakes, pastries, chocolates, and even a wine tasting table to taste old cultural flavors mixed with new broader flavors. The dinner hall is filled with lively conversation, even more so at the table where the Contiellos sit, where among plates of delicious food, they laugh and joke and talk, happy not to be here itself, but with those they care about.

Then, for Squigly’s final gift of the night- what would going to an opera house be without, you know, an opera? Escorted to a VIP booth looking above the stage, the Contiellos watch a show performed by some of the most up and coming actors and thespians of Canopy Kingdom. The booming orchestra fills the air, the sound of sopranos and baritones roll through the aisles, and the light flicker dramatically, as if to show the Contiellos the taste of opera they have helped to build. Daniel sits on a comfy couch with Squigly nuzzled to him, his jacket draped over her shoulder with Simon cuddled between them, Selene and Roberto on another couch, chuckling softly as they watch their family enjoy the show while nuzzling in each other’s arms.

After the thundering applause has ended, Squigly wonders what time they will be home- it is almost midnight, and do the trains even run, she wonders? But to this, Daniel smiles warmly and explains what the plan is. You see, he booked a suite here to stay a night and has sent their clothes over early in the day by courier from the opera house- thus, all they have to do is go to their suite, book in, change and relax.

And so, journeying through gilded halls and crowded rooms, the Contiellos ascend in a lift to the upper halls, to a suite waiting with their name marked on by a silver paper. In their suite, their suitcases lay neat on the bed, neon lights from the city outside pour in through the patio door, illuminating in shades of purple, white and gold a bucket of ice with fresh champagne and a small white box on the guest table. After everyone is changed to more casual attire, Simon eagerly fetches the little white box from the table and opens it for his mother to see.

Inside is a delicious, decadent, rich chocolate cake, topped with a layer of creamy white chocolate frosting, and topped with a colorful array of chocolate-dipped cherries and blueberries. In the middle of the cake, written in beautiful cursive in blue letters surrounding a small circle of candles that illuminate with a soft purple flame are the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”.

Then, just as Squigly would look over the cake, someone shuts the lights off, bathing the room in the glow of only the candles and the neon lights spilling in. Slowly, starting with Leviathan, then Roberto, then Selene, and then Daniel, everyone begins to sing to her. Even Simon, who obviously is unable to sing, happily sways and dances to the song, spinning and twirling adorably as everyone gathers in song.

“Happy Birthday to You~! Happy Birthday to You~! Happy Birthday, dear Squigly~! Happy Birthday…to You~!”

As each candle slowly flickers as they are blown out, the darkness of the room is contrasted by the sound of cheering and laughter, even without light the room is filled with warmth. When the lights are flicked back on, and everyone has finished lavishing Squigly with attention and hugs, it’s time to relax.

The TV plays an old classic movie on the late channel. The bottle of champagne is popped, Daniel cuts the cake, and everyone enjoys a delicious dessert. The fresh linens seem the most welcoming thing of all, as everyone slips comfortably under the warmth of the sheets, to fall back against the soft pillows after such a day of walking and running around. Daniel pulls the blankets up over Squigly and Simon, gingerly tucking the sheet into the bed to make it nice and cozy, before draping his arm lovingly around them as they snuggle together.

As the night goes on, and the neon lights seem to brighten as they spill into the suite, the air of drowsiness and peaceful calm washes over them. Selene and Roberto both wish their daughter, grandson, and son-in-law a wonderful night, before curling up together to fall into a deep comfortable sleep. Simon stretches his little arms and legs, nuzzling his mother and father happily when they give him his good night kisses and hugs, nestling into his little nook to fall asleep, his fuse twinkling like starlight out the window as he falls fast asleep. Leviathan bows his head, and wishes them all a good night’s rest before curling his tail around them to rest his head on his mistress’s shoulder, leaving only Squigly and Daniel awake.

Just before Daniel falls asleep, he leans over and presses his lips deeply to Squigly’s. The taste of blueberry, chocolate and champagne mingle with the scent of her perfume as their lips melt and press together. He could never tire of kissing her, of just being able to hold her like this, and he tells her this, his voice soft and warm, adoring and gentle. He says that he loves her, that he loves them more than anything in the world, and even if he didn’t love them, he would want nothing more than to love them forever. He hoped they had made today absolutely amazing for her, their undead darling, and that if they could, they would make everyday as wonderful as could be for her.

She’s their opera singer after all, the best thing to ever happen to them. And she deserves nothing less.

And, as Squigly would slowly begin to fall asleep, she would feel Daniel’s hands gingerly run through her hair, rolling through the tasseled blue curls of her done-up hair back and forth oh so slowly, his arms warm and strong, protecting her and Simon as they curl up in bed. His voice gently hums, although it’s not as spellbinding as anything the Contiellos could sing, but echoing with love and care for Squigly, humming Happy Birthday into her ear as he holds her tight, letting the blankets fall and melt over her until the singer is buried in a mixture of his arms and the linens. Just before her eyes close, Daniel whispers into her ear once more.

“Good night, Squigly~. I love you more than anything in this world~.”

As Squigly would wake up the next morning, there would be a smell of fresh Belgian waffles being made at the little kitchenette and fresh coffee being made, the opera house suite filled with the melody of music, and sunlight streaming in through the frost-tinted windows. Simon and Daniel happily work at the kitchenette, flipping waffles or carefully pouring glasses of juice, Selene and Roberto nuzzle up in their robes to listen to the radio as they enjoy a cup of cappuccinos, and Leviathan purrs comfortably, fixing Squigly’s pillow as he curls around her, smiling warmly at his host as her eyes flutter awake.

Hey, just because it’s not her birthday, doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve star treatment, right?  

[postpunkpontypandyphantomthief]

Lolipops and Gumdrops (The Young Ones) (written October 2nd 2018)

The Young Ones was written by Ben Elton,Lise Mayer and Rik Mayall

The Young Ones was a sitcom that lasted from 1982-1984 

this fanfic is a exploration of the past,present and future for the characters

as in the ending of the show they were killed off because the writer’s had ran out of ideas.

The term "Lollipops and Gumdrops" is a made up term to describe feelings of wholesome mixed nostalgia

it's second meaning refers to the development of Vyvyan and Rick's relationship.

Chapter 1  (this explores the past of the characters prior to the events of The Young Ones)

 Before Scumbag

It was the early 1970s

In a fancy neighbourhood lived a family, and their son was sitting at the dinner table,

His parents were having an argument he had a vest and rolled up trousers with a few spots on his face.

His dad growled as he slammed his knife and fork on the table

“I SWEAR THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD HAS BEEN TAKEN OVER BY FILTHY HIPPIES!”

His mother nodded,

“Dominic I couldn’t agree more  useless layabouts all they want to do is do drugs and take up space on the roads with their protests”

Rick rattled his teeth as he nervously shook and timidly asked

“can I be excused?”

His dad shouted back

“Richard for the last time I said no talking when your mother is talking!”

His mum scoffed

“Yes, that’s incredibly rude  GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

Rick mumbled before he yelped, “I don’t have to do what you say fascists” as he attempted to flick a rude hand gesture

His dad glared

“HOW DARE YOU USE SUCH A OBSCENE GESTURE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!”

Rick staggered up to his room when he shut the door

Rick’s room was his escape his shed of wonder, music and revolution

Philosophy and Marxism books on his nightstand, posters of Cliff Richard and The Who on his wall

And his prized possession...his record player   he looked through his records and put on his Ziggy Stardust ep as the opening chords of Starman were music to his ears

He stripped off his white shirt, replacing it with his black shirt while he sat on his bed reading a graphic novel and wrote a bit of poetry

He said

“I wish I could be like Ziggy or Cliff...be someone else for a change...not lonely pathetic Richard

Someone not like that, Someone who isn’t boring someone who doesn’t take rules from anyone...except Marx”

While he finished flicking through the pages he looked through his dressing table and took out...his makeup compact  he wouldn’t dare tell anyone at school about his androgyny

But he felt that he could be something unique…

He adjusted the brushes and applied the various eyeshadows, blush and lip gloss to his face canvas

He had a cigarette in hand and relaxed in his chair bobbing his head to bowie’s inviting eclectic voice.

Elsewhere down the street was another high class family the mother and father were a few generations older but they still moaned about “workers” and how the youth were a threat to society” in their back garden was their son Neil he normally had slicked back hair and fancy suits but when he’d go outside he’d show the hippie wallflower he’d later become

"Oh what a lovely day it is today Hello flowers, hello sun, hello clouds, hello plants"

anthropomorphic vegetables and plants grinned back at him "Hello Neil!"

he’d catch insects, wander the hedge mazes and grow vegetables..but amongst the pretty vines that decorated the patio he’d sometimes think about wrapping those wreaths around his neck until all he could see would be the beautiful sunlight...one of the days he did that his parents found out and he was diagnosed with clinical depression,his parents saw that as a disgrace he lost sleep and would stay up on some nights but as much as he was miserable he knew he wasn’t the only one so Peace Studies was what he decided to study once he finally got a place in uni.

In the city in a more dangerous side of town lived a barmaid Lindsay and her daughter Vivian

Lindsay would work at the pub the Kebab and Calculator leaving Vivian alone on some days

"Viv I'm just heading down to the pub alright"

"ok Mum"

Vivian waved and nodded frowning as she shut the door

"Vivian put on the cassette player and the sound of the Misfits was blasted, Vivian turned on the television to watch horror films and aggressively punch pillows.

Vivian had gotten used to bad luck,he had to buy her own birthday presents Lindsay would just give booze as presents while Viv liked the odd babycham it got old after he hit 17 when Vivian would be alone Vivian would either play video games,watch tv,get in street fights with fascists,study for her science exams or go to clubs to mosh to punk music Vivian at times felt lost...it didn’t help that at times socialising was hard for Vivian she’d retaliate with violence often

when Vivian was little she'd just listen to enter sandman on her walkman while blowing bubbles.

Vivian didn’t feel like a girl. she would dread looking in the mirror, Vivian eventually decided to transition, Vivian became...Vyvyan being a punk Vyvyan felt like he could show more of his self-expression through his appearance and attitude  he made his dyed orange hair spiky, got a few piercings and bought a ton of band merch and patches for his “battle jacket”

Vivian would bind but he'd only do it when he'd be alone when his mum did find out his mum couldn't tell the difference

There was also Mike a runway model influenced by classic Hollywood who would scam people for money usually the money was just so he and his papa wouldn’t end up on the streets again.

Chapter 2  (considering the original ending resulted in the characters getting killed off via a bus crash with no answer to what happened afterwards this chapter gives an alternate ending of what would happen if they did survive)

: Summer Holiday Part 2

The aftermath of the bus crash

It had been a few decades

Rick, Vyvyan, Neil and Mike were at Uni, Scumbag College specifically

Richard took up a different name "Rick", he took inspiration from ziggy's style and put plaits in his hair projecting an androgynous appearance he would've been able to show previously he openly wrote his poetry and got interested in political science and Anarchism self-proclaiming himself as "The Peoples Poet"....however, his tory side still could be seen in his pretentious, egotistical attitude.

Vyvyan didn't change anything, Vyvyan didn't give a toss what people thought of him sure his explosive violence and anger were repetitive at times but sometimes his compromises of destroying property were needed considering their lack of money and food stock.

Neil expressed the flower child that he truly was...but he was also a bit of a hypochondriac believing superstitions easily not the brightest crayon in the box but at least he had good cooking skills using the vegetables he had grown to make soups, lentils and other dishes

Mike just kept his "cool person" persona he couldn't get enough qualifications to get to mainstream colleges so he bribed the deen his course was business and advertising

It was kinda depressing...having to eat leftovers half the time, often having to deal with fights either from Vyv and Rick or from the people outside.

but they knew that they had nobody else, the country was in political hell so Rick's constant thatcher bashing was justified, Vyvyan's habit of destroying stuff was needed so they'd have money left, without Neil they'd not have much food and without Mike they wouldn't have someone to be the "voice of reason" in times of such chaos.

Thus the bank robbery ironically being at the same time as another bank robbery, in that bus, everything was nothing as they happily sung Cliff Richard's "Summer Holiday" only to drive off the cliff.

BOOM!

Neil and Mike got away quickly with minor burns...Vyvyan and Rick, on the other hand, we're stuck inside amongst the flames and debris

Neil shouted "Oh Mike this is very heavy, like more heavy than anything else we've ever experienced"

Mike nodded in response "I agree this is starting to be dangerously serious" as he flicked out his phone and called emergency services

"YOU BASTARDS YOU COMPLETE UTTER BASTARDS ARE YOU JUST GOING TO LEAVE US HERE TO ROT HELL?" Rick screamed in panic

"Oh damn I never thought it would end this way, I never got to have my first love, my first shag none of that I am going to wilt like the great leaders that came before me I guess the pigs have won I guess there is no future, no future for me," he started sobbing

Rick stopped sobbing when he noticed an uncomfortable silence outside of the roaring flames around him...the silence was coming from Vyvyan at the front of the bus

Rick out of his seat and crawled underneath the flames up to where Vyvyan was "Vyvyan?" he quietly asked as he shook the unconscious punk in front of him

he repeated himself "VYVYAN?" he yelled at the top of his voice

Rick knew this wasn't good "No! God no, please not him sure we had our rows, fights and disagreements but he never left, I enjoyed when we'd take the piss out of each other, I don't know how I'd continue life without him, I'm not letting the fascists win...Vyv he..., Rick gulped "he was my friend"

he grabbed Vyvyan's body and carried him over his back while kicking the doors and windows open

now on the ground away from the flaming inferno, Rick tried to process the situation and his background knowledge of CPR

he rested Vyvyan on the flat surface and begun to tilt Vyv's head back slightly putting pressure on his jaw

smirking in relief Rick noticed there was something else he had to do he looked sideways

he inhaled pinching Vyvyan's nose with his thumb and index finger as he placed his mouth over Vyvyan's and took some quick breaths

Vyvyan started to be coming back to him Rick released his nostrils he could sense Vyvyan breathing again

Vyvyan was confused as he attempted a punch only for Rick to block Vyv's fist and kiss it

eventually, emergency services arrived Vyvyan didn't give more punches as wires and patches were put onto him while he was placed onto a stretcher and being checked for injuries and burns"

Vyvyan coughed a bit and said

"What happened?"

Rick stood nearby smirking

"We crashed a bus over a cliff conveniently placed next to a billboard of Cliff"

Vyvyan gave a snarling type of expression

"No, you bastard to me, what happened to me?"

Rick kept his smile but spoke more solemn

"You...you almost died your oxygen was low and because you were at the front of the bus you took the most damage"

Vyvyan tried to process the information and raised his eyebrows

"and you saved me?"

Rick nodded,

Vyvyan gulped speaking in a less rough raspy voice

"Thank you"

Rick kept smiling cheerfully at Vyvyan when he saw Neil and Mike running up

"There you lot are what were you waiting for? the end of the world? there's more to life than being a cloud you know" he scoffed.

Neil moaned

"Sorry Rick, but that was very heavy"

Mike folded his hands

"Neil's right that was horrible what you and Vyv were dealing with" "still it was smart of you to save him like that, I'm proud of you

Rick blushed at the compliment

Mike continued "I understand why you call yourself a peoples poet you're a poet for the people, you care for the people or the "workers" as you call them" he then patted Rick's head in a fatherly way"

Rick smirked "Yeah not all people some people are fascists but...some people..some people are alright"

Later they were in the hospital and it was no different than when they were at home instead of moaning about thatch Rick moaned about the NHS, Vyvyan would threaten to attack him with medical instruments and they'd chase each other, Neil would get leftovers from the vending machines and cafes nearby and Mike would flirt with the nurses.

Rick sat in his hospital bed, bored beyond belief, "I hate this, the stupid education system, the ruddy NHS, it's no different than prison"

Mike read his magazine "Well you're lucky we aren't in prison I'm never going back into the slammer you hear"

Neil moaned, "we get it but maybe if we got jobs, we could get the house back and avoid prison"

Rick scoffed smirking "WELL FOR ONCE NEIL HAS THE RIGHT IDEA!"

Mike said, " Rick I'm trying to read"

Rick answered back, "well then again we are innocent, we scrapped through our GSCE's, the bus I stole was already about to be destroyed anyway and the bank was already being robbed when we tried to rob it,we've all got social diseases but our opinions shall be justified by the riots going on in this country, and if the pigs do give us a visit we'll give this alibi

"Gee, Officer Krupke, we’re very upset; We never had the love that every Child oughta get We ain’t no delinquents We’re misunderstood Deep down inside us, there is good!"

Mike groaned, "Oh no he's singing Broadway songs"

Rick kept singing out of tune "We’re no good, we’re no good We’re no earthly good Like the best of us is no damn good!"

Vyvyan yawned and lept out of his bed grabbing a plastic knife and fork, aiming them at Neil and Mike

Rick said, "if it wasn't for me you'd be dead"

Vyvyan shrugged, "well it does feel more like hell than it does a hospital"

Neil asked, "Vyv why aren't you, your usual aggressive self?"

Vyvyan chuckled to himself "I'm taking a break from that, the doctors say my anger levels give me a risk of having high blood pressure, headaches and other problems

Mike emotionlessly turned his head "Oh"

Neil then walked  off to the cafe and vending machines to get food

Vyvyan fidgeted with the plastic fork as sat by Rick's hospital bed smirking at him

"Well this is it, new world, new people yet you're still stuck with us aren't you?"

Rick grinned, "Yeah, in a way we are kind of like a weird family, We're the children, Neil's the mum and Mike...."

Mike rolled his eyes "your the one thinking of weird ideas, Rick"

Rick snorted "well your the one to talk Dad"

Vyvyan fell on the floor laughing, while Mike blushed bright red "Oi! nobody who isn't a date of mine can call me that!"

Vyvyan got up "I think we've heard enough out of you've listened to too much Frankie goes Hollywood"

Mike tried to backpedal "T-They said that song was about motivation"

Vyvyan and Rick smirked at each other ".....Sure"

Rick then looked at Mike smiling innocently "it's ok Mike, we accept you for the gay dad that you are"

Mike said, "I'm not gay, I like men but I like ladies as well"

Rick cheered, "So your Bi, like Freddie Mercury wonderful"

Neil walked back carrying a wooden tray of sandwiches, chocolate bars, chips, toast and sausages, placing it on the nearby coffee table

"Hi Guys, I got us some supper, and it's not lentils"

Rick jumped for joy hugging Neil "Thank you, Neil, you shouldn't have  Now! let's have the last supper"

Neil smiled "Uh, your welcome Rick, but why are you suddenly being so nice?"

Rick grinned as he walked back to his bed "I, Nice? Neil the people's poet is always thankful for their people and goods, it's just part of my nature"

in between bites of food he got more honest speaking in a softer tone "I've learned a lot from you,Vyv and Mike, I was an internally homophobic twat back then,I would lash out at others when I was really angry with myself,I became sarcastic I was angry with the world but was still learning how to shake off my parent's conservative values for the revolutionary Marxism I was studying,I am grateful I know you, and how your able to put up with a bastard like me, I love you, my comrades, we are all Young Ones,and I've accepted who I am too,I'm Rick and I am brilliant"

Vyvyan sat on the side of Rick's bed smiling at him hiding tears "that is the soppiest thing I've ever heard but now you've made cry, hope your happy"

a few years after that they performed alongside Cliff himself for Comic Relief 1986 their cover got the song in the charts again and it felt like they would always be "ThE YoUNG ONES"

who weren't afraid...to live, love while their love is strong even when they wouldn't be Young Ones anymore.

Chapter 3  (this explains what the Young Ones were up to in the 1990s)

: Common People

It was the 90s Rick was into Britpop, Vyvyan was into glam punk and industrial music like KMFDM, Neil was grunge and Mike wore dad Hawaiian shirts

they weren't tv stars like before though, the most they got was from US Reruns on Comedy Central

they still lived in the same house they just changed it up a bit Vyvyan spent more time going to industrial mosh pits or appearing in advertisements Neil also appeared in advertisements,advertisements for petrol in Austrailia...yeah I don't get it either Mike got back to college but studied a different topic he studied film and Rick well out of his still active political life oh! you should've seen

Rick stood on a blue stage that had his name sparkle on a neon sign above him he was in his old outfit of a rolled up shirt, tie and jeans

She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge, She studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College, That's where I, Caught her eye. She told me that her Dad was loaded, I said "In that case, I'll have a rum and coca-cola." She said "Fine." And in thirty seconds time, she said, I want to live like common people, I want to do whatever common people do, I want to sleep with common people, I want to sleep with common people, Like you. Well what else could I do I said "I'll see what I can do." I took her to a supermarket, I don't know why, But I had to start it somewhere, So it started there. I said pretend you've got no money, She just laughed and said, "Oh you're so funny." I said "Yeah? Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here. Are you sure you want to live like common people, You want to see whatever common people see, You want to sleep with common people, You want to sleep with common people, Like me. But she didn't understand, She just smiled and held my hand. Rent a flat above a shop, Cut your hair and get a job. Smoke some fags and play some pool, Pretend you never went to school. But still you'll never get it right, 'Cause when you're laid in bed at night, Watching roaches climb the wall, If you called your Dad he could stop it all. You'll never live like common people, You'll never do whatever common people do, You'll never fail like common people, You'll never watch your life slide out of view, And dance and drink and screw, Because there's nothing else to do. Sing along with the common people, Sing along and it might just get you through. Laugh along with the common people, Laugh along even though they're laughing at you, And the stupid things that you do. Because you think that poor is cool. Like a dog lying in a corner, They will bite you and never warn you, Look out, they'll tear your insides out. 'Cause everybody hates a tourist, Especially one who thinks it's all such a laugh, Yeah and the chip stain's grease, Will come out in the bath. You will never understand How it feels to live your life With no meaning or control And with nowhere left to go. You are amazed that they exist And they burn so bright, Whilst you can only wonder why. Rent a flat above a shop Cut your hair and get a job Smoke some fags and play some pool Pretend you never went to school, But still you'll never get it right 'Cause when you're laid in bed at night And watching roaches climb the wall, If you called your dad he could stop it all Yeah You'll never live like common people You'll never do what common people do You'll never fail like common people You'll never watch your life slide out of view And then dance and drink and screw Because there's nothing else to do I want to live with common people like you.....

"I LOVE YOU JOHNNY MARR,DAMON ALBARN AND MORRISSEY!!!" Rick shouted into his microphone

Vyvyan snarled at Rick "Shut up Britpop bastard"

Vyvyan snatched the microphone and bulged his eyes out at the audience he had dark purple eyeliner and vampire esque contour on "Oh the beautiful people, the beautiful people

Neil then took the mic "Where the lights out, "ENTERTAIN US!", "HERE WE ARE NOW!"

Mike finger-gunned the audience "I'll be here" singing the spice girls I'll be there out of tune

Chapter 4 (and now the present and future,how the characters are interacting in the 21st century)

: The Young Ones: Years on into the vaporwave moonlight

The Young Ones in the 2010s note:this chapter is littered with Internet references

Rick was on a parade float holding a guitar filled with "angst" he had a military type outfit on and his pigtails were undone so his semi-long hair could be shown

"When I was a young child, my dad took me into the city, to see the marching band," "he said, Richard, you'll grow up would you be the poet saviour for the people, broken, beaten and the damned

Neil would play post-grunge songs with local bands for events like weddings, pub parties etc. , Mike was in a rockabilly revival subculture and Vyvyan was a fan of White Stripes and Gorillaz

But a new decade was just starting to show

Rick said,

"Vyvyan that's the wrong tape rewind it"'

Neil moaned as he worried about the camera

"Oh guys stop being so heavy it's just a polaroid"

Vyvyan then adjusted the camera correctly and handed it back to Neil who was wearing hipster attire with a star necklace around his neck and tarot cards in his other hand

.......SHUTTER...........rec:o beep 02:10:18

Rick rested on his bed posing in an "aesthetic" way decorated in an 80s anime styled sweater with his name written in Japanese characters, a pastel coloured cardigan and his plaits out like before wearing light orange shades singing the song lyric "I want blood, guts and chocolate cake"

Vyvyan ran over to his side placing a tray of crisps, ketchup and chocolate on the dressing table dipping the crisps in the ketchup eating them as he begun to fidget with a fake rainbow coloured butterfly knife before shoving Rick's face into the chocolate cake

"VYVYAN YOU RUINED MY AESTHETIC!"

Vyvyan screamed "I WAS BORED, IT'S NOT THAT HORRENDOUS TO OFFEND OSCAR WILDE IS IT"?

on a book cover, a ghost of Oscar Wilde is folding his hands sarcastically "no I suppose not peasant"

later that night Vyvyan was sitting in front of his laptop recording with a torch, microphone and horror figurines around his room "Hey mates it's Vyvyan's spooky storytime of True Crime" "so there was this girl in Liverpool and she knew some boys of the neighbourhood who would frequently mock and harass her so...she stabbed them and hid their corpses in the local pond"

"BE QUIET IM TRYING TO LISTEN TO JAPANESE 80S MUSIC WOULD YOU STOP BEING A HYBRISTOPHILLIAC!" Rick shouted from next door

Vyvyan shouted back, "CULTURAL APPROPRIATOR"

Rick overdramatically gasped "How dare you I am no weeaboo unlike you"

the next day they were at Mcdonalds when Neil noticed something about their meal

" I don't think we should eat this, it's not vegan you don't get it I'm literally eating death"

Vyvyan shrugged

"It's no different than the rest of the manufactured garbage you get in these places"

Mike nodded and Rick smirked, "Yeah Neil, if you hate the place so much eat somewhere else"

Neil moaned "but I don't go anywhere else without you"

they all groaned while Neil kept complaining

"You see all your doing is killing and torturing these animals"

Vyvyan rolled his eyes "Yeah animals that eat their offspring"

Neil wouldn't shut up so Rick stabbed him with a fork

when he noticed Mike was telling a waiter about what happened he hid in the bathroom "I can't believe it I killed Neil, it was all over one silly argument how could I?"

Vyvyan opened the door "you, miserable sod you can come back out now Neil's still alive nothing serious"

Rick breathed a sigh of relief "Thank goodness"

a few days later Mike wanted Vyvyan to stick his head out the window again.....for the vine

"ok Vyv just do what you did before on university challenge," Mike said as he manoeuvred his phone

"Do not stick your head out the window, mmm I wonder why" Vyvyan then slammed his head against the window as the video was done being recorded

Mike smirked to himself "this will get me lots of hits" Vyvyan had a few cuts on his face, he wasn't happy "You bastard my face is gonna need stitches now because of this!"

Mike ignored him only for Vyvyan to say "It's not stopping me from wanting to kick your face in" as he chased Mike and had a slapstick fight with him

while they were in the middle of that Billy Balowski was nearby rapping badly "Hey it's Lil Balowski and this is what I'm doing today I'm kneeing this two for not giving their pay"

It was night-time and Vyvyan and Rick were watching the sunset Rick said, feeling nostalgic "remember the good old days when we would attack each other with cricket bats and call out thatcher in our satirical performances"

Vyvyan finished his cigarette and said "Yeah, those were wild times of complete madness the chasing like Tom and Jerry and constant mentions of bottom"

Rick laughed it off "I recall you wanted to kiss my bottom" Vyvyan smirked "I did not, you wanted to kiss my bottom, anyways we were young ones then and we aren't young anymore"

Rick looked out into the now present moonlight "technically we will always be young ones, the floating timeline keeps us this way, it's like hell but it's our personal hell an anarchic fun open hell, not a fascist one"

Vyvyan nodded "hey, what was your life before this like anyway?" Rick inhaled and said "Well it certainly wasn't all lollipops and gumdrops" "I had some elements of self-expression and I did love some parts of my life but other parts are overshadowed by negative memories being told to believe on the right wing side of things. Where nothing but political lies were fed to you with Teresa and Trump the world seems to be repeating itself, but I never got a chance to fully spread my wings until meeting you. I was usually a quite timid, shy bloke, heh I do like the others but it was you who I felt the most connected to...you had an energy that I wanted but now I know I already had it now I have someone beautiful to share it with."

Vyvyan was surprised that all of that was hidden in those whining tantrums Rick had back in the 1980s but he felt like his eyes had been opened he felt the same way, he held Rick's hand and smiled at him "I think so too, you, annoyingly revolting, amazing sod"

Rick blushed under his glasses

Vyvyan mumbled smirking, "P-Peoples Poet"

Rick then kissed Vyvyan he kissed back as they cuddled throughout the night

no cricket bats, no punches, no fighting

just love sickeningly revolting but wonderful...love

......Love is the answer ~ Rik Mayall (1958-2014)

[renherh]

Idea 1

This animation style and story I did a lot of change, initial ideas, I use the way of painting is just flat coloring , no prominent characteristics,then,I design a girl,her eyes were wrapped around the gauze, but later found that a little strange, so I choose to change the glasses, and then using the crayon style paintings.

Idea 2

I designed the dress in yellow, yellow stands for positive, sunny, optimistic. In the previous design, the girl was originally dressed in green, but it didn't make much sense.

Idea 3

Girl's imagination. In the previous design, I wanted flowers to sing along with the music and birds to sing in the trees, but I thought the plot was too flat without any ups and downs. So I changed the idea, the girl needed a trigger point to make the story more vivid, so I changed the car start, let the girl think it is a gun shooting because she has not seen what the real car looks like, so this can be an innovation point.

Idea 4

In this animatic, I added a bubble to the screen, but the bubble does not have much meaning, thus, I may choose to delete or replace it with another object.

[richiesmashmouthtozier]

BITE ME!

CHPT.  3/??

read: 1 | 2 | 3 |

A/N: This chapter is way longer than the first two but this is, without a doubt the best chapter yet. So sit back and read all about betrayal and trust issues hahahahahahahaha...

mentions: big thanks to @edsrich for reading the first version of this chapter (i rewrote it lol) and just generally showing interest and being nice:)

also a little mention to @tobzier for showing interest, you may not think you’ve done anything but you actually encouraged me by showing that you liked my idea so thanks:)

description: The losers are only 15 when Derry changes forever. The scars from It are barely faded when the newest threat hits the small town, Zombies. Most adults start getting infected one-by-one leaving many kids to fend for themselves, including the losers club. When Beverly is attacked and bitten by her father she can’t help but think she’s a danger to the club, there’s no escaping yourself.

Pairings: reddie, stenbrough, benverly

!!!!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!!!!!: description of gore and lots of it (it’s a zombie apocalypse), a lot of angst, so many swears oh mY GOD

this chapter: trust issues and angst

And without further ado,

Enjoy :)))))

————————

“You’re hair is winter, fire january embers, my heart burns there too…”

“No not that!”

“Come on Ben think!”

“Ugh this is stupid!”

Beverly woke up with very little memories of what happened the night before, she didn’t even know what time or day it was. She slowly opened her green eyes to reveal a foggy vision starting to adjust. her headache rushed through her brain making her squint. Her stomach was in agony as she curled into a ball. It rumbled and made weird noises, she was hungry. She was so fucking hungry goddamnit.

She thrashed the covers away and used one hand to support her getting up by holding the end table, her other hand, of course, was clenching her stomach. Her legs were shaking bad and felt numb as they hit the floor with every small step. The feeling went from her feet up and caused a wave of exhaustion spread despite her sleeping more than usual.

“He- help…” her voice was raspy and broken. She attempted walking but she had to remain hunched over. This position allowed her to notice all the little things around the room. there was paper scattered along the floor and around the window they threw their trash out of. Along with that there were crayons and broken pencils, almost every typical writing utensil you could find. She didn’t have the time (or energy) to think about what that was all about and kept walking, very slowly.

she took off the giant coat that had been wrapped around her to reveal the bloodstained inside caused by her bloody clothes from the previous zombie wave. She was burning hot but once she took off the jacket she was cold, so she draped the coat over her shoulders without putting her arms through the sleeves. Her steps were slow and she swayed back and forth but she finally reached the door. Her shaking hand pulled the handle down and the door opened. She continued walking down the hallway.

“Bev, what the fucking hell?” Richie quickly finished the stairs and came to the girls side, “You look like complete shit!”

“Richie…” she said at a whisper, “I- I need food…”

“This is all because you’re fucking hungry?” he said surprised as she used his arm as a support beam, “What type of dreams are you having to make you this goddamn hungry?”

“Shut up…” he stomach felt like it was being stabbed and it made weird bubble noises.

“Bill! Get a plate of food!” He yelled. She squinted from hearing the loud noise and her ears started mildly ringing. He picked her up wedding style and carefully walked down stairs.

“Wuh-wuh-what’s wruh-wrong?” Bill said placing the plate on the table with stan resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Bev is starving? I’m not really sure what’s happening either to be honest,” Richie replied helping her in her seat. Eddie took a breath from his inhaler in shock of what he was seeing.

“Jesus Bev!” Stan said. She was gorging the beans as fast as she could with the small fork. The three boys stared at her with confusion that it made Mike confused when he entered the room.

“Um why are we all starting- the hell is she doing?”

She lifted her chin from her last bite and dabbed her napkin around her mouth, “Why is everyone staring?”

“Why? You were eating faster than any animal I’ve ever seen!” Mike said. She glared at him.

“I’m sorry i got hungry,”

“That’s seems like an understatement,” Stan said.

“Yeah that seems a little unhealthy,” Mike said.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m fine?” she got up with both hands on the table, “You don’t need to worry about everything that happens to me,”

“Buh-bev-“ Richie nudged him and gave him the “this won’t help anything so just stop talking” look and Bill nodded.

“I grabbed your guys’s backpacks while I was down there and two of the flashlights need new batteries- BEV!” Ben came from the basement and dropped everything in his hands to run over and hug her, “Holy shit I thought- well i didn’t know what to think!” Bev hugged back but needed to double take on what just happened.

“Uh.. Thanks ben,” she did the only thing she knew what to do when she liked someone and tried to ignore him and focus on something else before she made a fool of herself, “Are you guys going out to town?”

“We were planning on going to the convenience store on Woodblock street,” Mike said rolling up his map.

“Well then I guess I woke up just in time then,” she gave ben his coat back and hesitated but winked, “I’m not waiting up!” she grabbed her backpack hanging over a chair.

“Beverly you can’t be serious,” Stan said parting from Bill.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gave the sassiest look she could.

“Bev i don’t think this is the best idea,” Ben said holding his coat real tight.

“You legit just died, stuffed your face and now you want to fucking go on an adventure? You’re fucking high, dude,” Richie said looking to Eddie to see if he agreed, he didn’t look at him but he could tell he did.

“Look are we going or not?” Bev said tapping her foot.

“Leh-l-let’s just guh-guh-guh-go,” Bill said walking towards the door.

“Bill,” he looked back to see Stan with his hand on his shoulder and the rest of the boys. All of them were staring at him with mixed expressions: angry and confused.

“Big Bill you might want to rethink this,” Richie said leaning with one hand on the table.

“Yeah you’re going crazy,” Eddie said shaking what was left of his prescription (he’s been saving it up since the apocalypse even though he knew it was all bullshit).

“Luh-luh- look, Bev just guh-got a little sih-sih-sih-sick, she slept all day, o-o-obviously she was huh-hungry,” everyone knew they should follow Bill- he was their leader after all- but in the back of their minds they thought it was wrong. Stan especially was wondering why he kept defending her. Ben was thankful for it but he was worried about his crush, he had spent the whole time she was sleeping making a poem about her just in case something… bad happened.

“We’ll wuh-wuh-wait about a-an hour t-to prepare some muh-muh-more, than we’ll go,”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bev said and threw her backpack on the table top and ran upstairs.

“What the fuck is up with chick,” Richie said out of the silence.

Bev stared herself down in the mirror of her room. Her overalls were covered in blood as for her skin. Her hair was starting to grow out more and it was halfway down her neck. She felt weak. She felt scared. She didn’t feel like herself at all. She started pacing. The feeling of terror hadn’t crossed her this bad in two years when she was forced to face her biggest fear. What was her biggest fear now?

She shook off the thoughts. Don’t be stupid, she said to herself and she did the only thing that felt right.

Exactly an hour went by and Bev came downstairs wearing the same outfit she had worn when they first defeated It. Everyone stared at her surprised, she hadn’t wore that dress since that day. Just seeing Bev in that outfit made them all shiver in fear.

“Is that hair on your shoulder?” Stan pointed out.

“Probably,” She shrugged and dusted it off. She had cut her hair as short as it was with worn down scissors she found in a closet. Of course she didn’t look like she did when she was 13 but, hell, it was close enough to make the rooms air fell thin.

“Wuh-wuh-well we better get going,” Bill said looking back at everyone as they gathered their stuff.

They walked in a in a horizontal line with Bill in the middle holding a fence post nice and tight (with Stan right next to him and the butt of his gun sticking out of his backpack).

Ben stood awkwardly at Beverly’s left (Bill was at the right) and tried to observe Richie and Eddie on the other side. Everyone knew they liked each other, especially after last night's bonfire, and Ben wanted to see how they did it. How they would be so close and nothing was weird. Then he observed Beverly. That outfit made all her features stand out more since the last time she wore that was 2 years ago.

She had grown and he hoped he did too but he never noticed anything new with himself but the people around him seemed to be growing physically and mentally. That wasn’t always a good thing considering Stan was officially diagnosed with OCD and Eddie’s Anxiety got worse to the point where the pills weren’t (gazebos) placebos. His mental health wasn’t right after the event but his mother was too poor to pay for a medical bill to check if there was something they could do about it, but all they could was hope it didn’t get worse.

“This is it!” Mike said almost triumphantly as they walked between an old flower shop to see at the other side of them was an empty convenience store. They had taken the path through the canal where less zombies roamed and kept a sharp eye out. They never talked unless they were in the building that was already checked for those rotten corpses.

Richie went in first and checked to see if there were any zombies in the front and the rest poured in and checked the isles.

“All clear!” Stan yelled after checking the last aisle.

“Oh-okay guh-guys, get wuh-whatever you want,”

“I love being able to take anything I want,” he breathed taking in the scene. Trash mouth Tozier adapted the easiest to the whole apocalypse, no one to miss and no one to miss him, except for his losers. Everyone thought that was sad but they couldn’t lie about the single moments of feeling free.

“Don’t take too much, Tozier we gotta haul this back to the house,” Mike said picking up more cans of baked beans in the third aisle.

“Do you think they’ll have jerky here?” Bev spoke up from the “female product” aisle. Mike audibly gagged at the thought.

“Since when do you like beef jerky?” Stan said while getting jars of peanut butter.

“I dunno, I was just kinda craving something,” Her eyes scanned the store in a hunt for the dried meat. Stan rolled his eyes, after that everyone figured it was just “that time of the month” so no one said anything. The simple sounds of shuffling and small talk was abruptly interrupted by the shrill voice of Eddie Kaspbrak’s high pitched squeal.

“EDS?” Richie yelled running to the other aisle.

“FUCK OFF ME!” He’s voice pierced through the air.

“Eddie?” Mike ran with Richie.

“What’s happening?” Ben yelled as loud as his timid self would allow him next to the girl he loved. Bev started to smell something.

Was that blood?

Why could she smell that?

It smelt like meat?

Did it smell g-

“GET OFF HIM!” Richie yelled interrupting her thoughts.

“Holy shit!” She grabbed Ben’s arm and ran past the empty aisles clutching a fence stick in her other hand.

“FUH-FUH-FUCK!” Bill yelled. When they finally got to the other end of the store they saw the bunch of losers swinging their arms. Eddie was being ripped through the wall by a pair of rotting hands tearing at his clothes and skin. Eddie had one arm on the decaying hand trying to choke him and his other arm was being pulled by Richie who was being supported by Mike. Stan was shooting hands best he could without hitting their victim, but nothing was working.

“Stay out of my way!” Stan was yelling to all of the conflicted teens.

“HELP!” Eddie’s voice cracked. Beverly felt something inside her switch.

“Sorry Stan!” She shoved him out of the way and did the only thing her brain would tell her. She got a good grip on one of those arms and yanked it.

“HOLY FUCK!” Eddie screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Stan said. Ben stared in utter shock.

“SHI-SH-SHIT!” Bill stuttered out.

The arm had been ripped out and the blood was pouring everywhere along with chunks of skin. After the arm was detached Richie took his chance and wrapped his arms around the small boy’s waist and lifted him up with all his strength. He got him far enough from the wall that Ben could use the extra axe the store kept to cut off the arms. They were all running out of the horrific crime scene but Ben stopped at the door, “Bev?” he yelled. She was standing there shaking with the arm in her hands.

What the fuck have I done.

Why the fuck was I gonna do that…

“BEV?” Stan yelled louder.

“Oh shit! uh… sorry,” She threw the at the floor and stumbled into things on her way of running out. After everyone was outside Stan used his second to last bullet and shot the zombie in the head. After that they ran to the back hesitantly and continued along the stream.

“AUGH!” Bev screamed as she hunched over and fell down. Everyone turned to her.

“Uh… Bev?” Bill crouched down and reached a supporting hand.

“GO AWAY!” She swung her arm out and pushed him off balance into the water.

“Bev what the hell?” Richie walked towards her. she started to crawl backwards onto land, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” She was bent over due to the incomparable pain rising in her stomach.

“Bev calm down!” Mike tried to sound supportive.

“FUCK YOU!” She threw a rock at him.

“Beverly?” Ben said quietly walking ahead everyone.

“Bev stop!” Richie yelled. She stared at him with betrayal.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie said under his breath behind the trash mouth.

“AUGH!” She started to cry.

“Bev!” Ben ran to her. she lifted her head up to look at him in the eye. Her eyes started rolling back showing the whites in them.

“WOAH!”

“SHIT!”

“HAYSTACK!”

Stan ran to the front ahead of Bill who was stunned and stuck in the dirt.

He pointed his gun at her.

“Bev what the fuck!” his voice cracked.

“Woah Stan!” Richie yelled, he motioned forward but Eddie grabbed his arm and gave him a scared expression.

“UGH!” she grabbed her face and clenched her hair. She grabbed her bag and stuffed her arm into it. She grabbed the jerky and ripped off the top with her teeth and gorged on it, crouching over her knees. She whipped her head towards the losers club and as if fog had cleared in her eyes, the polished emeralds appeared again.

“I- What- I uh,” She tried to spit out.

“Hey,” Ben said timidly out of the crowd, “You’re okay. We’re- We’re all okay.”

She started crying against a tree as the rest of the gang dragged out of the water to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry…”

Ben was in the room with Bev, Richie was sure they were asleep by now. The rest of them sat on the ripped up couch in the living room. Eddie was leaning on Richie with what was left in his tear ducts stained on his cheeks. Richie was in the same disoriented condition, but everyone knew it was worse. This was the first real loss he’d experienced and she wasn’t even “gone” yet. Mike was in the kitchen cleaning up, it’s what he did when he stressed out. The three could hear Bill and Stan yelling at each other in the bathroom.

“YOU-YOU WERE GUH-GUH-GOING TO KUH-KUH-KUH-KILL HER STAN!”

“SHE COULD’VE KILLED YOU!”

Richie squinted while listening to the yells. Eddie was squeezing his hand noticing the tense feelings.

“WELL FUCK BILL! I DIDN’T KNOW WE WERE KEEPING ZOMBIES HERE NOW!”

“STUH-STAN STOP IT! DUH-DUH-DON’T TALK ABOUT BUH-BEV LIKE THE-THAT!”

“Whatever, Bill,”

“YOU’RE FUH-FUH-FUCKING JEALOUS!”

“OH DON’T YOU FLATTER YOURSELF BIG BILL!”

“You’ve ah-always been jeh-jealous of Bev! YOU-YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN-”

“YOU’RE A DICK! THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME! THERE’S A FUCKING ZOMBIE IN THIS HOUSE GODDAMNIT! AND I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO SEEMS TO CARE!”

“S-STAN STOP IH-IT!”

“STOP WHAT?”

“STUH-STUH-STUH-STOP!”

CRACK

“What the-“ Mike flinched.

Everyone jolted upright. There was a hole in the bathroom door and blood around the left splinters. Bill started crying uncontrollably and fell into Stan's arms, the bird boy just looked at the door in shock while holding his lover close to his chest. All the while two emerald eyes were silently pouring rains from the hallway at the top of the steps.

———————-

A/N: HEYOO!!! I have no idea on how y’all are going to react to this lmao but sorry for my shit writing pretending that what i wrote was so good and hyping it up haha.

Be the first on my tag list? send me an off anon ask!!!!1!!

I don’t have any previews for the next chapter yet sorry:/ but just a btw I’m writing this while crying my eyes out because of the last episode of stranger things.

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Lee Hanbyeol, spotted prancing about in the Southwest Side. I remember seeing him with The Marauders back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say secretive and creative? Apparently now he spends time as an editorial model and a barista at Hello Stranger, and keeps skeletons buried at Geumsang Apartment Complex; A103. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Mr. President; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

the quiet life was never meant for lee hanbyeol, whose family often chased the spotlight. growing up in wealth and recognition, hanbyeol was used to being the centre of attention - whether he preferred it or not. going to school at cheongnam high was merely the next step in his parents’ plans towards a bright future for their child, though hanbyeol had hoped to gain some independence in deciding in which circles he’d like to mingle. unfortunately decisions were out of his hand, and he found himself dragged into a little clique of misfits and little demons. his association with kim jongin brought him in acquaintance with a boy he loathed ( oh sehun ) and a studious girl ( song yoori ) who happened to be the only one he was fully comfortable with in their little group. of course his father was ecstatic to hear his son was doing well by the family’s reputation. within the school, hanbyeol was seen as the stoic member of the marauders. not cold per se, but a boy of quiet reserve. difficult to read. hanbyeol was known for getting good grades without too much effort, and a perfect track record of attendance. however, lee hanbyeol was not all that interested in academics. to the marauders, hanbyeol was a goody two-shoes to a certain degree, always the one to keep them troublemakers out of trouble, or saving their asses from detention or expulsion. the class president would not complain, safe for those rare moments yoori managed to catch him struggling with his emotions. to friends, hanbyeol was confident boy who liked to tease those he was comfortable with. a winsome guy with stars in his eyes and high expectations for his future. to everyone else, lee hanbyeol was an unapproachable entity. the class president with the piercing stare, who happened to doodle in notebooks and make a sharp remark every now and then.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

during his years at cheongnam high, lee hanbyeol was offered a modelling contract. at age seventeen, hanbyeol first featured as a model for jeans company jambangee, a brand for which hanbyeol still models. after graduation, hanbyeol worked full time as a model to kick start his career while still living at his parents’ place. when he realised he wasn’t making the money he expected ( and was pressured by his father to join his company ), hanbyeol moved out and took up a part- time job as a barista. he currently lives on his own with his cat. lee hanbyeol has not changed much from when he was a teenager. he remains stoic, though has learnt to school his features in a more approachable expression in social situations. the man is secretive, and appears to enjoy alone time above moving in socialite circles. however, hanbyeol can appreciate a party, though has to be coerced into going to one. not much is known about lee hanbyeol’s relationships, though he is rumored to date an actress or singer every other week. currently, he is a model most favoured by photographers but still working towards gaining the affections of the general public.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

“dream the impossible dream,  fight the unbeatable foe, strive with your last ounce of courage, to reach the unreachable star”

O1. he was born a girl with constellations on her face and a bright future prophesised. the sixth daughter in line, lee eunbyeol, was both a gift and a curse. his birth left a father disappointed, unable to swallow the bitter realisation that he had once again failed to produce a male heir, while the girl’s mother whispered her happiness into infant ears, promising a world of riches and admiration. to the family, eunbyeol was a girl both loved and ignored. her name held dreams while her purpose was to obey. she was a mere number in a seemingly endless line of other daughters who were unfit to lead - or so the family patriarch believed. their big family was conservative; the household ruled with an iron fist from a militant man who asserted absolute authority in both professional as personal lives. the coming of another daughter did not change the manner in which a father ruled and asserted his beliefs on the gullible women in his world. and while a mother beamed and a father smiled wryly at a wailing infant, the two parents remained oblivious to the shift (and rift) the birth of their last child would bestow upon their expanding family.

O2. the first few years were peaceful. not even the sporadic tantrums of a crying three-year-old, pulling her sisters’ hair, could break the family’s harmony. a five-year-old eunbyeol who refused to sleep in her flower-patterned bed was easily soothed. a loud-mouthed six-year-old had the pillars upon which their perfect little family lived tremble when she refused to be called a girl, started roughhousing with the boys in a nearby park (returning home with dirt in her long raven locks and worn shoes) and refused to wear her school uniform. those pillars started cracking when a girl nine years of age thought it smart to bring a pair of scissors to her beautiful hair, injuring her scalp. at the doctor’s office, the child was referred to a therapist. oppositional defiant disorder, whispered the doctor; gender dysphoria concluded the therapist.

O3. eunbyeol had always been a talented child. as if her name had carved her future in the stars, her mother believed her child to grow up to be successful in life. eunbyeol was artistic, albeit a bit clumsy with wobbly legs that were oddly endearing. one of the few items the child had been given to play with which eunbyeol had accepted were crayons and colouring paper. throughout her childhood, eunbyeol doodled. she drew animals, coloured scenery and sketched doraemon figures on any piece of paper she could get her hands on. we have a little artist in the family, her mother squealed giddily during one of the many family dinners and formal events where boasting achievements and spending one’s money recklessly were considered appropriate. always remember to reach for the stars, eunbyeoli, the woman whispered as she pecked her child goodnight that same evening. the next day, the therapist called. eunbyeol was to never go to those sessions again.

O4. the pillars of their perfect little family came crumbling down when eunbyeol stopped speaking. one fateful morning had eunbyeol’s father find his daughter curled up in the bathroom after a shower, confronted with his child’s confusion over the family’s insistence to treat him like a girl when he was not. a father’s greed for a male heir overrode his conservative principles and beliefs. he allowed his daughter to transition, against the desperate pleas of a mother. hanbyeol, his father told him sternly, make your father proud, son. with teary eyes, his mother regarded him as she cupped his cheeks and begged him to stop doing her wrong. but hanbyeol had already promised - he would reach for the stars, and this time he would shape his own future.

O5. idols were glamorous, even hanbyeol could see that. having grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth, he wasn’t left desiring much. hanbyeol was content with most of his life, and didn’t ask for much. there wasn’t really anything left to ask, or so the boy thought. the entertainment industry called to him like a bee on honey. although his voice was gentle - the tone a gentle timbre - he wasn’t blessed with singing talent. it was then that hanbyeol happened upon one of his sisters’ fashion magazines. mesmerized by the pictorials, lee hanbyeol spent hours upon hours observing the photos with the models in expressive poses, oozing a confidence that had a flush rise to the boy’s face. a newfound desire bubbling in hanbyeol’s chest because he wanted to be just like them. hanbyeol realised that he wished to covet a model’s glamour and elegance, to grow to be the subject of admiration; of reverence. lee hanbyeol had always been pretty and now he was a handsome male, with favourable proportions. a mere month after hanbyeol decided his future, bermuda entertainment offered him a seven-year contract, as a model.

O6. of course hanbyeol could never give up on his art. the path to fame was long and tedious and after graduation, the young man was forced to take up a job as a barista, his love for coffee supporting the decision. soon, hanbyeol realised he could create a different kind of art. four years down the line, and lee hanbyeol settled into a comfortable life style between photo shoots, runway gigs and preparing vanilla lattes for appreciative customers. secretly, hanbyeol enjoyed his work as a barista more than getting his face caked in make-up and walking unnaturally on a catwalk while being scrutinised by industry officials. his art steadily improved and now hanbyeol’s wishes have changed from stardom of immeasurable magnitude to becoming a humble latte artist, recognised for talent rather than looks.

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “The Last Donnycorn“

Written by: Jake Goldman, Haley Mancini

Written & Storyboarded by: Kyle Neswald, Benjamin P. Carow, Julia Vickerman, Cheyenne Curtis

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

The last Donnycorn is in captivity. The galaxy is at peace. Oh, I wish.

It’s a start of a brand new season of PPG 2016, to the delight of very few people. The ratings weren't very good, and the merchandise isn't selling. What could possibly salvage it? How about a special episode that is a whole half-hour long? It’s so special, the title card has all three colors! And who else should be the main focus but the character everyone wanted to see the least?

Donny: Help me, help me! They’re after me!

For those who are lucky to not know, this is Donny the Unicorn. This is Bubbles’ “BFF” that has once beaten her to a pulp in a “transformation ray”-caused rage, and ditched her for a “friend” who turned out to be a killer robot in disguise. I would write about any of the positive experiences Bubbles has had with Donny if she had any, but she’s still his BFF anyway because...he has a horn?

The two times he actually affected the plot in a way that serves the girls is in a situation that he caused the girls to in in the first place. That’s counting the comic he was in; Donny did nothing good in Horn Sweet Horn. Let’s see if he’s any better here, I say not knowing the answer immediately. Just letting you know, I might not be honest about that.

As one can tell from that opening quote, the episode starts with Donny waking the girls up at night because he is in danger. Bubbles immediately starts running and screaming along with him, because she's his BFF, and that means she just does everything Donny does. Blossom comforts Donny, saying he’ll be safe with the Powerpuff Girls. Donny accepts this, saying that he’ll be safe in the only place he knows outside of Unicorn Land. I think that's supposed to be a joke.

By the way, they were apparently sleeping in their normal clothes instead of their pajamas. Clearly, the animators must be paying more attention to that kind of thing since this is the special half-hour episode. How can the writers distract from this? Cue an explosion from a Terminator Unicorn.

Terminator Unicorn: (looks at Bubbles) Sugar.

(looks at Buttercup) Spice.

(looks at Blossom) Everything nice.

(looks at Donny) Wimp.

I can think of a thousand different insults for Donny, and I guess that could be one of them. Donny’s being followed by a muscular unicorn who is eventually called a Killercorn. He may as well be the Terminator Unicorn, as the only way this reference could be less subtle is if he was also a governor.

The Powerpuff Girls attempt to fight him, as I cringe for the inevitable Monster Punch, Girls Down scene, but Donny stops them before they even try. He uses his teleportation ability, because he’s a magical unicorn, to transport them...

...to a bowling alley. Donny has the ability to teleport, but only to bowling alleys because the episode felt that would be funny. Buttercup yells at Donny for being a chicken, which Donny responds to by...acting like a chicken. The main problem of the episode makes itself apparent: the episode's plot hinges on him being the comic relief, and like most comic reliefs, he's not funny.

Donny tells his story on how he got in his situation, asking the Powerpuff Girls to go to the bathroom first so he doesn't have to interrupt himself. Buttercup tells him to get on with it. Anyone who can guess what happens during the middle of this exposition gets absolutely nothing. No, it doesn't turn into an Austin Powers reference to fill the half-hour running time, though I was expecting that.

Donny’s story starts in Unicorn Land, which, of course, comes with a chorus saying its name. Donny is playing Frolicball, just go with it, but he accidentally makes the ball roll into a dark, black forest. He falls into a hole into a dark, black cave with a magic mirror in it. He decided the best course of action is to make funny faces at it, which somehow causes 5 evil unicorns to come out of it. He does the most courageous thing he could think of: running away. To be honest, I wouldn't blame him.

However, the Powerpuff Girls do; even Bubbles sarcastically tells her BFF that he ran away like a coward. Before Donny could defend himself, the Killercorn arrives in a stolen helicopter. Donny attempts to transport them to the bowling alley in Citiesville, but the Powerpuff Girls aren’t having any of it. Even the original writers couldn’t do Citiesville justice, I have no hope for the reboot writers.

The Powerpuff Girls rush in, and to nobody’s surprise...

...they actually beat him up. Wait, what? Sure, the punches and kicks are covered up by hit flashes, but I was not expecting that from the reboot that takes the Puffs down with glitter and crayons. It helps that these are the same relatively good hit flashes from People Pleaser and not the slow Nike swooshes.

Buttercup: I call that three strikes, you turkey!

Wow, a decent one-liner that ties into the setting. Hopefully they had enough faith in it to not outright tell people it was supposed to be funny...

Blossom: Nice! (fist bumps Buttercup)

Damn it. Speaking of damn it, the Killercorn gets back up. Buttercup forms a bazooka aura, and actually blow him full of hole with bowling balls! Wait, we can have a robotic unicorn get blown full of holes by what is essentially a gun, but we can’t show him getting punched in the face? Whatever, it’s still a decent scene.

Unfortunately, he’s able to put himself back together Iron Giant-style, and finally take two of the Powerpuff Girls down. Just in case you didn't who the Killercorn is supposed to be, he says a big twist on the most famous line of the movie.

Killercorn: Hasta la pasta, Donny!

Wait, why replace the word that doesn't rhyme with pasta? What does pasta have to do with anything? I expect better from the writers who came up with "A Star Is Blossom", "Odd Bubbles Out", and, well, "The Last Donnycorn". The Killercorn fires his laser at Donny, only for Bubbles to fly in and take the shot for him. This, of course, knocks Donny's BFF out, and he reacts in a realistic manner.

Donny: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I get that he's the comic relief, and doing a big no after someone dies is a common thing in fiction, but the way the face is drawn feels like this is being played for laughs. This could have been an emotional moment as Donny is all alone, his all-powerful BFFs defeated, against an unstoppable foe that cannot be reasoned with. This should be a dark time, but that face ruins it. Eventually, even Donny realizes he ruins everything, but not now.

The dark time ends when, in a plot point taken directly from his last full-but-not-as-full-as-this-one-length episode, Donny uses a macaroni trophy, a running gag in the first part of the episode, to reflect a laser beam right back into the Killercorn. While disintegrating into a sock, just go with it, he slowly mentions that Donny is the chosen one. That is a saying that gets brought up a lot in this episode, and it never feels more than forced.

The Powerpuff Girls instantly wake up and realize that Donny gained the courage to save them. To celebrate, he decides to teleport to a different bowling alley in Unicorn Land...

...which is currently in ruins. They even get surrounded by the evil gang of unicorns! For the first time in the series, we have a commercial break.

In a great twist, it turns out it was not the evil unicorn gang, but Donny’s parents in disguise. I read Goosebumps books that had better chapter break twists. Oh, and there’s also Gretel, a chunky unicorn that speaks entirely in raspberry noises. See, it’s funny because she’s different!

We get even more exposition about the rest of the evil unicorns. They’re known as the Four Unicorns of the Apocalypse, and their leader, Stanicorn, is stealing the magic of all of the unicorns so he can break free and rule the universe. They got banished into a mirror, Donny freed them with the power of silly faces, and we’re all doomed. However, if they can get to the evil mountain lair and make that funny face to the mirror again, they'll be re-banished again.

The Powerpuff Girls get dressed up in unicorn disguises, available at your local Sears for just $49.99. Unfortunately, an argument between Bubbles and Donny over where a bathroom is causes them to rip each other’s costumes apart, revealing themselves to the guards, and getting them thrown in a jail cell. Well, at least there’s one problem in the episode that wasn’t caused solely by Donny.

Just outside of the jail cell, the four unicorns of the apocalypse finally introduce themselves. There’s Joeicorn, who symbolizes War, Petercorn, who symbolizes rock and roll, Tanyacorn, who symbolizes being a token female, and I already realize they gave up on the whole “four horsemen of the apocalypse” reference a quarterway through.

Oh, and there’s the aforementioned Stanicorn, who apparently symbolizes not having a sense of humor. He shows this off with a zoomed-in face gag, and lasering Blossom’s bow before she can fist bump Buttercup after making fun of his height. Is he supposed to be this show's haters?

They leave the room to get some shepherd’s pie, and Donny cries some more about how he’s a “big dumb-dumb” while they’re trapped in a jail cell. This is the equivalent of a He-Man episode where Orko whines about how he's a useless magician. I'm sure that episode exists, and it probably wouldn't be very good.

One would think a jail cell would be nothing to a group of girls that can lift buildings full of people. In the original, they broke out of jail by busting through a wall, but I assumed the reboot wouldn't do that. I mean, these are heroes that got their arms broken when they got tail whipped into a wall.

However, that's what they actually do! Or at least Buttercup does with an off screen supersonic punch. They immediately go to the mountain, which is apparently unguarded now, and confront the evil unicorns. This kind of makes the jail scene pointless as they could have just combined the fight scene with these introductions, but I appreciate that the reboot knows how strong the Powerpuff Girls are supposed to be. Blossom tells Donny to get to the mirror while they take care of the unicorns.

Here’s a rundown:

Blossom uses her ice breath to break the rocker-corn’s guitar. It’s later implied that she then gives him an off-screen beat down.

Buttercup’s fight is a little gross, as the war-corn literally pulls his horn off, only to get it chopped in half by Buttercup’s sword aura. Kind of noticed that only Buttercup uses the auras in this whole episode; I guess animals and office equipment weren’t needed.

After Blossom yells at Bubbles for having a pillow fight with the token female-corn, Bubbles hits her with a pillow so hard, she spits out blood.

Wait, WHAT?

Well, okay, it’s actually Valentine hearts, but this episode sure fooled me for a second. While these fights aren’t perfect, I still wish they could punch people on screen, they’re great compared to the Monster Punch, Girls Down scenes of the first season.

Instead, we get Annoying Unicorn Does Random Things. Every time they cut to Donny, he's getting leg cramps, playing video games, and, even when he finally gets to the mirror, he gloats about how he did it instead of doing the thing that he was supposed to do. Which, by the way, is to make a funny face, something he does at random most of the time, like when he's mourning his BFFs.

While Donny is doing all of that, Stanicorn finally gets enough unicorn magic to...

...get super buff. He fires some rainbow beams at Donny, but the Powerpuff Girls seemingly make a sacrifice and fly into it. This, of course, knocks out the Powerpuff Girls, bringing Donny to the same low point he was in 12 minutes ago. He does get some help from Obi-wan Kenobi his mother in a bubble.

Donny's mother: What's the most important thing about you?

Donny: That...that I'm terrible at everything?

Donny's mother: No. That you bring joy to others around you!

Yeah, I don't think so. After destroying the bubbles, Cho Aniki-corn grabs Donny to steal his unicorn magic. Because I guess he didn't have enough already. Donny counters this with a face so funny, this reboot's animators couldn't possibly animate it. Stanicorn finds this so funny that he explodes! See, if the most cynical person can find Donny funny, why can't you? The day is saved, but we can't have a Narrator to talk about it anymore. I guess he decided to skip Townsville. Wise choice.

New season, new rules for the last segment. I barely used the Remarks, so that's no longer here. There was one question I've answered in there in the recent reviews, so here you go:

Does the title work?

The title is a pun on the movie The Last Unicorn, except it’s not really a pun when you’re just combining a character’s name with what he is. It would be like calling Blossom a “Blossom-puff Girl”. It doesn’t really work.

How does it stack up?

The Powerpuff Girls actually act like superheroes and actually have some good scenes. The villains aren’t too bad either. The fight scenes between them are above the very, very, very low average of PPG 2016 “fight scenes”. By far, not only is this the best episode that has Donny in it, it's not that bad of an episode in my opinion. No surprise, they probably spent a lot of time on a double-length episode.

Part of this might be because of that abomination that came right before this, but none of this has to do with Donny himself. He may not have been infuriating as Mr. I Made A New BFF But You Better Not Be Jealous, but all he really does is whine about how useless he is and prove that he is, both in action and in humor. 30% exposition, 30% unicorn whining, 40% okay-at-worst action comedy.

So despite Donny’s best efforts, this episode breaks the streak of Disgusted Buttercups. I originally gave this a Happy Buttercup at first, but after some consideration, I decided to change it on 4/7/2017. Mostly to be consistent, while the good scenes are on the upper end of the scale, when this episode is bad, namely the scenes with the hell-horn in it, it's bad. As a whole, it's not that bad.

But that's my opinion.

And so the new season begins with a sort-of bang. Next episode is something the Powerpuff Girls clearly haven’t done before: an episode where a Powerpuff Girl meets up with an old superhero! Yeah, this season’s quality is probably going to be falling like the arches.

← Bubbs and Donny Get The Mail (Short) ☆ Green Wing →

[jiminwolf]

When the cherry blossoms fade

Soulmate!Jiminxreader oneshot

Genre: Soulmate AU/ Fluff

Summary:The fate entwining You and Park jimin are much stronger than they seem.

A/N: The whole story was inspired by this song written by B1A4’s Jinyoung. I actually started writing this story in May last year when the song first came out, but I guess I took too much time to work on it and even after IOI disbanded I'm still not done with this. If there are mistakes and sudden changes in writing style, please keep in mind that i spent an entire year on this. This is still unedited.

Prologue

Year 00

Tuesday 2:11 A.M.

The hospital

A new life is brought into the world, loud wails and cries filling the small operating room, the pungent smell of blood filling the air. The new mother tears, her husband grasping her hand tightly, still unable to let go after the tedious 6 hour delivery filled with painful contractions that made her feel like ripping all her hair out. The doctors and nurses smile at her brightly, and she can only reciprocate with a weak smile.

The newborn is wriggling, struggling against the doctor’s grasp, as he brings the child over to the exhausted parents. A mark is fresh on its tiny, pink wrist.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl.”

The parents lean over to carry the small bundle of joy, excited to see her mark. They both gasp in shock, as the mother’s fingertips smooth over that certain spot.

“She has two, what does this mean? Is there something wrong with her?”, the mother worriedly questions, for she has never seen anything like it before.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Babies that have two marks combined together are very rare, yet very lucky. It just means that she has a second chance to meet her soulmate again if she happens to miss the first chance.”

The pair sighs in relief, and return to staring lovingly at their child.

The soulmate system was established to save mankind, for there were simply too many people in the world who failed to find a partner in life. A tattoo, often known as ‘the mark’, forms on every newborn. Each mark is unique to two individuals in the world, and often acts as a hint to a significant event occurring in both of the soulmate’s lives where the two will finally meet. However, once the two meet, it is necessary for the both of them to recognise each other as soulmates. If the opportunity to find each other is missed due to the both of them failing to recognize each other in the crowd, the mark gradually fades to nothing. A person with no mark is looked down upon in society, and to have no mark is a disgrace to the family name. Once the soulmates successfully recognize each other, both their marks remain permanent and stay for life. The meeting between soulmates can occur at  any point in time.

---

The start.

Year 04

Saturday 4:55 P.M.

Your house

The summer was getting to your head, the heat rising up around you, surrounding and suffocating you. The climate is hot and humid, the sweat dribbles down your tiny forehead and the baby hairs that fall out of the little braid your mother did for you stay plastered to your neck, the minimal amount of clothes on your figure all glued onto you with sweat. Sticky, icky, disgusting sweat.

Despite the sweltering heat, you were sitting outside by the steps that led to your little house by the countryside. Mommy is in the living room watching television, you think, swinging your small feet around where they are unable to touch the ground. You hum a familiar tune, the same tune that you hum with the other neighborhood kids when you go out for ‘adventures’ around the small cluster of houses.

You glance at the daisies, the marigolds, the budding tulips that sprout up in your garden; the bees that buzz excitedly around them in a frenzied dance. You pause, and wonder, how nice it would be if I could draw the flowers with my crayons and give the picture to mommy as a present? You immediately scramble to your feet but turn to meet soft fabric.

“Daddy!” You exclaim excitedly.

He puts a finger to his lips, and you immediately quieten down. In his hands, he has two red packets, dripping with water from the packet. You have no idea what it is called, yet you love it so much. He passes you one, and you desperately tear open the packaging to reach for the sweet treat within. It is icy cold and tastes like fruit, yet the artificial taste of it lingers on your tongue afterwards. As you continue to gobble it up, your father whispers, “ It’s called a popsicle, sweetie.”

You glance up at him with glassy eyes, your pouting lips stained by the red food colouring found in the popsicle, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. He smiles with you too. The two of you sit side by side, watching the cars drive past the front gate, whilst sucking on your strawberry flavoured popsicles.

The heat causes the popsicle to melt quickly, sending glossy red syrup running down from your hand to your arm. You rub at the ruby red liquid, only to make your hands stickier and the situation messier. You stare at your dirtied arm in disgust and discomfort. Your father laughs again.It is then you first notice the weird looking mark on your right wrist.

“Daddy.”

“Hm?”

“What’s this?”

He turns to inspect your tiny wrist; but he knows very clearly what you are talking about, the mark on your wrist still ever so clear despite the intrusion of the new sticky, red lines across your skin.He holds your tiny wrist delicately, rubbing soothing circles on the porcelain smooth skin.

“It’s your mark.”

“My mark?”

“It will help you to find your future husband, a person you will love even more than Daddy and Mummy”

Your lips form an ‘O’ shape, then you frown in thought, the deepest kind of thoughts a four year old could possibly have.

“But I think I’ll still love Daddy and Mommy so much more.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, one a four year old will only interpret as happiness, before turning to face the little girl and gaze at her lovingly. She looks ever so innocent, so protected from the ways of the world.

He mutters under his breath,“We’ll see then.”

---

Year 18.4

Monday 10:47 P.M.

Someone’s House

The party is still going strong, but you feel like you’re dying. Young adults your age are scattered around the house, some grinding feverishly against each other on the the makeshift dance floor, loud pop music blasting from the cheap speakers, flashing lights that seem to make your headache even worse. Others are either seated on the couch beside the dance floor or are in the backyard. Most of them are couples, making out wherever they can. If your parents were here, they would have commented, “No sense of social modesty!”

But they aren’t here, which makes things 10 times better and 10 times worse.

The heavy bass of this music is deafening, and you aren't sure it's the music or the alcohol clouding your mind that sends the surrounding walls thumping to the beat.

Your roommate, Claire Park, the one that got you stuck here feeling like shit in the first place, is nowhere to be seen. You scan the place, the bright, flashing lights impairing your vision. Your head is throbbing like crazy and you are very sure you look very haggard. All you want to do now is get out of this damn place. You had a shot too many, despite knowing very well that you cannot handle liquor. The guys that were initially hitting on you have also moved onto other girls, leaving you drunk and stuck to the kitchen counter.

You saunter over to the living room, the current dance floor, and finally spot Claire. She defines the word ‘goddess’, literally. She is right smack in the middle of it, flaunting her jaw-dropping physique accentuated in a sparkling silver dress, grinding on a jock at the same time. He looks so familiar, yet you can’t lay a finger on who the hell he is. You, on the other hand, look like a potato. Absolute crap, decked out in a suspicious looking hoodie and sneakers, which earns you dirty looks and sniggers from the cheerleader group a few meters away from you.

Just before you can reach out to her, you feel bile bubbling over in your stomach and you instinctively cup your hand over your mouth, rushing upstairs towards one of the available toilets, only to find that it is locked because of some stupid couple in there. You rush into the other toilet and breathe a sigh of relief when you find that it is unlocked. You lean over the seat and release. Wiping off the excess spit on your mouth, you rise and flush the toilet.

Your phone suddenly rings and when you see the Caller ID, you feel like slapping yourself. It’s your parents. You’re supposed to be studying in the dorm as finals are round the corner. You hesitantly pick up the phone.

“Hello? Are you studying now?”

“Uh..um yeah, I am.”

“Why can I hear music in the background?”

“Um...I like to listen to music while studying??”

You are such a horrible liar.

“You get your lying ass back to your dorm right now! I am in your room right now and there isn't a single soul in here! Don't you get how important studying for your exams are? How can you still go to parties at times like this?”

You mutter a few apologies to your parents on the other side of the line and sigh as you end the call. What a bummer.

Pissed and grumpy from the alcohol and the phone call earlier, you storm right onto the dance floor, pushing and shoving other party goers away to grab Claire’s hand, earning a few glares from the surrounding partiers as you practically drag the girl shouting in protest out of the house. The both of you stumble out, and your lungs relish the feeling of fresh air after being trapped in that stuffy old house for the past 4 hours.

“Hey! What the hell man! I just managed to meet some cute guys. The night is still young!” Claire whines. She's the kind of girl you would classify as a goddess and a troublemaker at the same time.

“My parents just called. I just got myself into some deep shit.”

“What?! You should have told me earlier, I would have left with you.”

“Says the one who got me into this kind of shit party.”

“At least there were cute guys! You should have seen! I—-”

You cut her off abruptly.

“No thanks. Now can we get both our asses back to the dorm? I’m strangely hungry after puking so much.”

“..Or maybe we should go check out that new Chinese Korean restaurant near the dorm. I heard they open till eleven!” She giggles.

Sometimes you really just love and hate your roommate at the same time.

Year 18.4

Sunday 2:31 P.M.

Wang’s Chinese-Korean food

Jimin

Earning pocket money has never been this nerve wrecking.

It’s his first day working as a part-timer at Wang’s Chinese-Korean food, and already females are eyeing him like a tasty morsel.

He had only ended up there because of his stupid roommate, Kim Taehyung, who told him that the part time job would be a good deal, good pay, flexible hours. What he wasn't told was that it already had a reputation within the campus despite it being a new store, something that only transfer students that had just joined this term would not be well aware of. That is exactly what he is.

The restaurant is situated near the campus, and is known to have attractive waiters. Very attractive waiters. As a result, both senior and junior girls flock to the place after lectures, determined to either talk to them or score one of their numbers.

Sadly, he wasn’t aware of this particular situation at all. He didn’t feel that he was particularly good looking whatsoever, or rather, when he was compared to the other six boys working the same shift as him.

Kim Seokjin, a tall wide-shouldered lad slightly older than him with the face of an idol, makes him seem like your typical Prince Charming. He cares for every single customer; and girls swooning over him has become so common that he is used to it already.

Min Yoongi, with flawless, glowing skin that snow white would even be jealous of. He seems like an ice prince, but once you get to know him, he can be pretty chill. He has legs that are too pretty to be on a man.

Kim Namjoon, tall and charming, with a gentlemanly air that makes girls flock around him, desperate for attention. His pastel pink hair can be easily spotted around the restaurant, accentuating his glowing olive skin that girls drool over.

Jung Hoseok, a cheerful and energetic man, is super nice to everyone around him, and has a perfect ski slope as a nose bridge. His radiant aura infects everyone around him, giving everyone in the shift a newly found energy.

Kim Taehyung, perfect height, perfectly defined features,a perfect deep voice that surprisingly does not fit his age. His annoying roommate and a fast worker, yet he tends to goof around on the job.

Jeon Jungkook, his favorite and also the current maknae, has flowing onyx locks that frame his doe like features. He is often nicknamed ‘The Golden Maknae’, and he does not deny it, though his only current weakness is girls, but it increases his likeability by a ton.

Then there’s him, just good old Park Jimin, who has totally no idea why girls are chasing him like crazy. He doesn’t mind anyway, since the job earns him good money and the others treat him well.

Then he has an absurd thought : Was there the slightest chance that he could meet his soulmate? Unfortunately, he is dragged out of his reverie for the umpteenth time by Hoseok’s shrill screams for help with the ice water at table 10.

The rest of them chuckle and he rushes over to give Hoseok a hand, but the thought embedded in his mind just doesn’t fade away. It sticks to his mind just like bubblegum to the sole of a shoe, and he smiles to himself, and the group of girls in the far corner start squealing like crazy.

Maybe, he thinks.

Just maybe.

Year 18.9

Friday 10:35 P.M.

Campus

Your stomach growls for the very fifth time, and you are only halfway through the first lecture. The other students that sit near you stare at you in disgust, and you whisper silent apologies to them. Claire is all the way at the back of the hall, already making herself comfortable with the surrounding students.

You scoff at her, only to slump back in your seat in agony because of how hungry you are. You have food in your bag, in fact lots of food that your mom prepared for you that morning. There is carbonara, a tub of salad, Oreos and a bag of chips in your bag, but it would be too risky to start eating in the middle of the lecture. You calculate your chances, considering the fact that the current lecturer has hawk eyes and he would not hesitate to shout at you with that microphone of his and publically embarrass you for life. The students around you would also cause a big commotion upon sight of food which would in turn result in you getting spotted by the teacher.

You sigh, and reach into your bag, fingering the smooth plastic packaging of the Oreo packet, before sneakily popping one in your mouth. You chew once, twice, then reach for the second chocolate biscuit in the pack. The now empty blueberry coloured packaging is then abandoned in the small bag you own, and you hum a soft merry tune to yourself. The students behind tap your shoulder and shush you up. Three small chocolate biscuits would obviously never be able to satisfy your hunger, yet it is enough to last you through another lecture.

You turn your attention away from the scripts, notes and colorful stationery scattered around your tiny makeshift table and scan the hall; shifting uncomfortably in your seat Most of the students look super bored while taking notes down from the lecture. The lecturer is busy telling everyone his life stories while forcing them to listen as if it is some inspirational speech. Nobody is listening, except for the few new faces you spot within the crowd. Most of the girls and boys scattered amongst the front row are busy taking down whatever he says, a telltale sign that they are newbies in this school. One boy with hair the colour of a setting sun; the colour of maple leaves hanging on the trees in breezy autumn, sits in the second row. It makes him stand out in the whole hall full of students. None with a colour as striking as his. His hair looks so velvety soft, just like liquid gold.

He casually threads a hand through his gorgeous hair, then moves to continue taking notes down. Even with such a simple gesture, he oozes charm from every part of him. His aura built from sunshine is basically that alluring.

Wow, what a find.

You lean forward to take a closer look at him; your new interest. To be honest, you have never been this attracted before, not in this particular manner. You almost never take much notice of your surroundings, as you could not care less about the people around you but this, this boy, immediately catches your eye the moment you spot him. It isn't just because of his hair, instead something else, something you just can't lay a finger on, that makes your heart race at abnormal speeds.

At this moment, he chooses to turn around and meet your eye. Even from such a far distance, you notice how his beautiful eyes twinkle. A connection as thin as a string of spider silk forms between you and him, and the world feels like it stopped for that three seconds for the both of you to hold your breaths and just stare.

You quickly turn away and cup your face, feeling it heat up rapidly; your heart fluttering. The string is broken, and you are left dangling and confused. You turn back to look at him, only to realize that his back is now facing you once again.

You slump back into your seat and whisper to yourself, “What the hell was that.”

The bell suddenly rings, and the whole student body is in a hurry to escape the tiny hall. You are the only person still glued to your seat, eyes staring into blank space. The students quickly drain out and take to the halls, enjoying their next 5 minutes of freedom between empty classrooms and lockers. You don't even notice.

“Earth to y/n, earth to y/n, are you in?”

You snap out of your trance and glare at the waving hand in front of your face. You suddenly remember the boy and shoot out of your seat, startling Claire and sending her stumbling back a few steps.

“Where is he? Where has he gone?” You exclaim, whipping your head around the now empty lecture hall, leaving you with a confused Claire.

“Whoa wait what who?”

“Y’know, the orange haired boy.”

“Oh him? He’s a transfer student isn't he.”

“I already know that. Did you see where he went?”

“Yeah,he just left the hall like 1 minute ago.”

You grab your bag and sprint out of the hall and into the corridor, desperate to find his familiar face again, but all that meets your eye is an ebony crowd, no boy with hair like sunsets in sight, except for a senior year student with pastel pink hair leaning against a locker, smirking at you.

You sigh in disappointment before a panting Claire collides into you head first from behind.

So much for luck.

Autumn boy is gone.

Year 19

Friday 6:46 P.M.

Dorm room

It’s been a few months since you last saw him.

Okay maybe not just a few. About

You seem to have forgotten him, yet it doesn’t seem like it too. What have you been doing with your life.

Music blasts from your room, and you lie motionless on the bed. Thoughts of studying have already been abandoned and you honestly just feel like staying in your room for the rest of the day doing nothing. You glance at your desk, back at your hand then back at the desk again. The feeling of skin against fresh linen. The refreshing scent of the sun that is embedded in your blanket makes your toes curl in pleasure. You roll yourself up in the sheets to form a giant human burrito, the warmth from your body contrasting with the cool, humid air that tickles the tips of your toes that stick out from inside the blanket.

Soft rhythmic tapping of raindrops on your window have been overwhelmed by the heavy bass of the song. You wiggle out of the comfy blanket and turn to sit at your bedside. Your toes trace tiny circles on the cold wooden floor. Staring at the raindrops against the backdrop, the window forms a barrier, separating the two worlds. The soft lavender fabric of your oversized sweater pools around your figure. It is raining heavily outside, yet it accentuates the lovely colour of the sunset outside. It reminds you of your favourite season,autumn, where the leaves of maple trees gradually transform to a beautiful amber shade.

You then remember the boy you had seen last month, his bright, silky hair standing out in the crowd. You sigh to yourself, then land softly onto the heap of linen spread across your bed. You consider calling Claire to ask her to go out and get take out for you, before you remember that she is already outside that the emptiness of the house finally strikes you. You then contemplate calling home delivery, reaching out for your phone.

You turn the music off, and the house becomes eerily quiet. Using your phone to scroll through the contact list, you lift it above you. Just as you were about to press ‘dial’, your phone rings loudly, and you drop the gadget on your face in shock. Speak of the devil.

You answer hurriedly, your voice still shaky, “Hello? Claire?”

Instead, someone else is on the other line.

“Uh um yes? Hello? This is Claire’s phone and um.. Oh Oh we’re calling from Wang’s Chinese-Korean food. Is Claire your friend?”

The person on the other line is definitely a male; his voice deep and mellow.

You clear your throat.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

He mutters something on the other line that you can’t make out before replying, “You see, we have a bit of a situation here. Your friend, er..Claire, has gotten herself slightly drunk and is disrupting business here. Just wondering if you would be able to bring her back?”

You mentally slap yourself. You should have known better to let Claire go out alone on a friday night.

“Sure, I’ll make my way over now.”

You throw the first pair of jeans you find in your closet on and head out with your trenchcoat, only to curse yourself when you realise that you have no idea where the hell ‘Wang’s Chinese-Korean Food’ is. Goddammit.

Thank the world for whoever invented GPS.

You spend the next 40 minutes of your life scrutinizing the small text on your phone, listening to the machine telling you where to go and trying to locate the restaurant, only to realize that it is just outside campus. How dumb was that.The rain only makes it worse by wetting your hair, clothes and brand new shoes. Great.

There is a pretty long queue outside the restaurant, and you push and shove your way through the crowd, cursing when someone steps on your already dirtied shoes. The smell of oily food wafts out of the place; the air conditioning blows the hair out of your face. Standing right at the front door taking orders is someone you recognize as a senior on campus. You’ve seen him around because of his striking pastel pink hair, but you have no idea what his name is.

“How many people?”

“Looking for someone.”

He moves out of the way, gesturing to another waiter within the restaurant, and your shoes make contact with the magenta ‘WELCOME’ rug.

You don't even have to scan the place to know where Claire is.

Jimin

He looks up from the cashier time to time, glancing worriedly at the girl drowning her sorrows in alcohol. He feels sorry for her, he wants to help her out, but the circumstances do not allow him to do so. He continues to observe the girl and takes a profound interest in her actions.

She continues to call for more soju, and Hoseok shoots uneasy glances at her then at him again, as if trying to determine if the girl has gotten herself drunk enough the night, but he signals to Hoseok to continue supplying her with soju. Hoseok stares back at him in confusion, then shrugs it off unwillingly and gets back to work. Jungkook and Taehyung walk past the girl occasionally to check on her, and they both walk off with worried faces.

The tapping of his fingertips on the wooden counter becomes a rhythm, just before shouts from the table in front of him interrupts his daze. It is that girl, bursting out in horribly sung pop songs in her drunken fit. Jin and Taehyung immediately stop in their tracks and tend to the girl, but she smacks Taehyung right in the face, and Jin is struggling to keep her under control. He has to cover his mouth to stop himself from bursting into a fit of giggles. Jungkook apologizes profusely to the other customers affected by the commotion as the other two men try to calm the girl down.

Taehyung somehow manages to gain access to the girl’s phone and calls somebody while Jin pacifies the girl with iced water. He straightens up at his seat, and continues with his duties as cashier.

He doesn't know how long it's been, but he notices the instant where a new customer has just entered the store. He stares at the girl, strangely feeling a warm tingle crawl up his spine. The girl is breathtaking, and every step she takes is effortlessly graceful. She is dressed so casually, a lilac sweater pulled over her figure, the faded jeans fitting her legs perfectly, her hair swaying with every movement.

But she looks like an absolute goddess to him, and she would most definitely be his religion.

Jungkook leans over the counter and nudges at his side, motioning to the girl.

“Whoa Hyung, you’re totally drooling at the sight of her. She’s your type?” Jungkook jokes, earning a sharp glare from him.

“I don't know,” he shrugs, “but she's really attractive though. I mean, she's not pretty or anything, but for some strange reason I feel like finding out more.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“Eyy,You should go for it Hyung.”

Jungkook nudges his side one last time, winking at him before getting back to work.

Jimin huffs in annoyance at the maknae.

A few more hours left to the end of his shift, and he's going to give this girl a shot.

You

You don't even notice the boy approaching your side because you're so preoccupied with Claire and that really good looking blonde waiter with wide shoulders attempting to help Claire out.

Claire has black bean sauce smudged all over her pretty lips, a streak of her mascara inching down the side of her left eye. You frown at the sight, and the handsome waiter in front of you grins sheepishly. Before you can blurt out your apologies, the feathery light tap on your shoulder has you whirling around. You wince at the whiplash, only to make contact with a pair of beautiful brown eyes, the colour of roasted coffee that is warm on the tip of your tongue, and dark tea that swirls within delicate china porcelain. The tiny specks of caramel in his iris flash, and you feel the bond forming all over again, this time even stronger and even more overwhelming than before. The feeling of warmth shoots through your entire body and spreads, just like the shimmering fireworks on the 4th of July.

You shudder slightly and glance back at him, realizing that he is wearing the exact same expression as you are. You scan his face, a pink blush crawling up your cheeks. It’s the same boy from the lecture hall, the autumn boy,  just that under closer inspection, his olive skin carries a warm glow and you realize how deliciously plump his rosy bottom lip is. He looks starkly different from the encounter at the lecture hall, for his hair is now a stunning onyx, the colour of the city night sky devoid of stars, hinting at the infinite number galaxies that lie beyond earth, engulfing us entirely in a world of mystery.

You make eye contact with him once again, noticing that he has the exact same blush spreading across his cheeks. You swallow and look down at the ground in embarrassment, feet tracing tiny circles on the tiled ground. The handsome waiter takes note of these small actions, chuckling softly to himself before taking his leave. Claire is too forgotten within 3 seconds within the entry of this ‘new’ character, despite the fact that you were here for her in the first place.

“Uh, hello.” He meekly asks, his voice pitched slightly higher than most men you know. As a result, he sounds like an absolute angel to you.

“O-Oh, hi.” You awkwardly reply.

He rubs his neck, then he flashes a super cute smile at you. What he doesn't know is that he's already got you reeled in with just his eyesmile.

“Uh she's your friend, I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, she kinda got herself pretty drunk, and it's pretty embarrassing for the both of us, considering that most people already know who she is.”

He nods in agreement, the both of you bursting into laughter.

Just as you were about to ask this beautiful angel for his name, Claire chooses to lean over and attempts to puke over you, sending you jumping back. Unfortunately, she does puke all over the cement floor, and some of it stains the fabric of your jeans. Several customers turn to scoff in disgust but a waiter behind you with flowing locks like caramel sighs and heads over with a mop. You sigh too, but turn to ask the waiter with large doe eyes and Raven hair in the corner for a mop to help clear the area up. He’s actually been staring at you and the boy with hair that once reminded you of flames for the past 7 minutes, yet you shrug it off.

“No, no it's alright. I can do this on my own. You better head back to take care of your friend.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping-”

“No! I-I mean it's better if you don’t. Your friend there needs help.”

You glance back at Claire who is now banging the table and notice how all the other customers are complaining about the ruckus to the distraught waiters. Leaving might be the better choice. A step forward, and you trip over thin air like the klutz you are. Your fingertips touch when he reaches out to grab your hand to pull you back, and the both of you flinch away. It sends a warm tingle shooting down your spine. You smile awkwardly; blush again.

“I-I guess I gotta help her out then. Nice meeting you?”

“Nice meeting you too.”

You apologise to the other waiters and pay the bills with Claire’s money before practically dragging Claire by the arms out of the shop. You look back at Autumn boy in the shop, sending him an apologetic smile. He reciprocates.

Unfortunately, it’s drizzling outside, and the walk home with Claire leaning over you every few minutes gets the both of you soaked by the end of the journey. Thankfully, after the GPS incident earlier, it only takes 20 minutes for the both of you to stumble back into the dorms, arms linked casually.

After helping Claire change into fresh, clean clothes, you peel off your clothes too, stuffing the big heap of cotton and denim into the washing machine before dashing into the hot shower. It soothes your nerves and your freezing body, sending you into a dazed trance after you drag yourself out of the steaming bathroom. The moment your hair is blown dry you collapse onto your bed and knock out, sprawled across soft linen.

2 days later.

Claire is awake.

Wide awake.

Someone keeps screaming like a banshee from the bathroom, and it's already been the third minute straight. It's loud enough to wake the whole building of students.

She groans and shouts back in irritation, “What's with all the racket so early in the morning.

The screaming stops for a moment, then it intensifies.

Claire has to reach for the emergency earplugs in her drawer before heading over to the bathroom with a metal bat in her hand. The door is wide open for Claire to enter, and there you are standing in front of the mirror, a toothbrush still in you mouth full of toothpaste. Tears are streaming down the side of your face, your hand trembling while brushing your teeth. She doesn't realize why you're so overcome with grief until she glances in the mirror and recoils in shock, metal bat clattering noisily on the white tile floor. She gasps, and takes a step back. The chopstick part of your mark has already faded halfway, the chopsticks now a translucent red against your skin.

You stop screaming and turn to stare at Claire with reddened eyes.

“What do I do now.” you whisper, your voice trembling.

She is shocked into nothingness, and stares at you like a deer caught in headlights, a blank canvas in her head.

“Erm, but do you have any ideas about who your soul mate might be? Like maybe it was that other guy on our campus or some guy you passed by..”

“No no no… If my mark has a pair of chopsticks, it MUST mean something, but I can't think of anything now. THIS IS SO DUMB!!”

Claire suddenly lights up, snapping her fingers.

“Chopsticks! Chinese restaurant! Did you feel a connection with anyone you met there?”

“Shit, I just might. That guy, I felt something for him. I felt something.”

You lurch forward to engulf her in your embrace, and she giggles along with you.

“Well no time to waste! We’ve got to get you your soul mate!”

You nod feverishly, and within minutes you are fluttering out of the house, a grey coat draped over one arm, running as hard as you can to that restaurant from yesterday. You can't afford to miss him again.

Thankfully you reach the place in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately everything is wrong. Totally upside down kind of wrong.

The staff staring at you with suspicious eyes in the restaurant are totally different people from the ones you met yesterday. You feel an invisible Claire wingmanning you, and you clear your throat to speak.

“Uhm excuse me, but do you know this guy who works here at night with like really nice brown hair and uhh like equally nice brown eyes?”

You start gesturing and drawing figures in the air to explain your point better but the staff there just low key judge you for everything you do. You then proceed to lose all hope, as well as the image you never had in front of them, but not before someone calls you from behind.

You spin around so quickly that you experience whiplash to meet your saviour and realise. It's the raven haired boy from yesterday, and he smirks at you. That kid. You frown, obviously feeling personally victimized and slightly cheated. (You had hoped for it to be that manly pink haired waiter or… Oh oh!! That waiter with really pretty plump pink lips instead of this cocky kid)

“You’re looking for Jimin hyung?”

“Wait Jimin who??”

Jeongguk literally facepalms himself.

“Like, that hyung you were talking to just yesterday, the one with the brown hair and sparkly eyes?”

You snap your fingers in triumph and start hopping on the spot. Your heart soars.

“Yes him!”

You start nodding your head vigorously and Jeongguk has to literally hold you down in order to effectively convey his message over to the hysterical you.

“You see, Jimin hyung told me to tell you that he's not in town now because he has to return to Korea for an emergency trip. He doesn't know when he’ll be back...or if he'll ever be back.”

Your jaw drops and you feel an irresistibly strong urge to start shouting hysterically and tear everything in your way apart.

But you don't, and stay fine, calm and cool like the civilised student you ought to be. You take a deep breath. Exhale. Ignore the tremble in your heart. Ignore your shaky exhale.

“I understand.”

You turn on your heel and calmly walk out of the shop. One foot out, and you start bawling like a three year old kid on the streets as you run back to the dorm, tears streaming down your embarrassingly red face. The sleeves of your pastel pink hoodie serve as temporary tissues for you to dry your tears.

Life is unfair to you, so unfair.

So much for finding your so called destined soulmate.

What utter bullshit.

Still year 19

2 days after the ordeal

King Ramen Shop

7.42p.m.

The tiny shop located at the end of a staircase leading to the basement is filled to the brim with people, some college students, mostly the working class. They all huddle in their assigned seat, head down, busy slurping down the ramen noodles swimming in the hot, miso broth. The whole restaurant smells like a mix of faint soya with boiling ramen noodles. Chattering echoes off the walls in waves, and the chef is busy serving the other customers seated in front of him. A bowl of happiness served, freshly made, steaming with the scent of miso enveloping your senses.

You noisily wolf down the hot shoyu noodles in front of you while Claire rambles on about the theories taught during the boring ass lecture that morning. The two of you engage in a heated debate about whether or not to buy the new campus jersey in navy blue or black, bursting into laughter when Claire just shouts out “BLUACK!!!” in the middle of her meal, the whole restaurant of customers turning back to stare at her. Even the chefs stop for a moment to smile a little and shake their heads in disapproval,

 While the whole restaurant gets caught up in the atmosphere, you are suddenly reminded of the fact that you might never see your soulmate again. At officially the worst timing ever. A surge of anger fills you, then a hot tear of mixed disappointment and fury slides down your cheek. You hurriedly wipe it off, awkwardly laughing it off, but Claire has already noticed.

She places her warm hand on your back as you forcefully stuff the noodles into your mouth

“Thinking about him?”

You choke a little, then place the chopsticks on the rim of the porcelain bowl with a soft clink and face her.

“Telepathic.” you mumble under your breath.

“What?”

“Oh no no it’s nothing, I mean yeah kinda I guess. The full weight of the situation is still sinking in and I’m feeling pretty crushed under it. It’s pretty vexing to me considering the fact that I have no idea if he’ll ever return and I’m already feeling overwhelmed by university life, so it’s all piling up on me and stuff. You feel me?”

Claire sighs and looks you in the eyes; her warm brown eyes carry a sort of considerate and loving glow.

Her reply pricks your eyes with tears.

“I feel you.”

.

Jimin (3rd person POV)

Year 23.3

12:24 P.M.

Airport

“The white of the airport is too much, glaring even but then again, where is my luggage? Which row do I collect it from? Shit.” were the thoughts running through his mind, hidden behind the thick black sunglasses, covered by the ochre coloured beanie. He absently glances around, desperately attempting to spot the screen with his flight number displayed on it. People just stream past him, their shoes tapping lightly against the large white tiles on the floor.

He casually jogs over to the correct conveyor belt when he spots his ‘lucky number’, grabs his sky blue luggage and strides off as if his whole internal ordeal never occurred before. Not before flashing a bright smile to the friendly old lady whom he had sat next to in the plane.

The airport somehow has a faint jasmine fragrance spreading through it. Glorious sunlight pours through its large glass walls and delicate installations are everywhere. He steps out of his designated gate, relishing in the moment-

“Jimin hyung!! Over here hyung!”

He removes his sunglasses and smiles. The whole crew he worked with at Wang’s Chinese Korean food is here to welcome him back, with Taehyung holding up a large, glittery pink sign that says ‘Have you seen this handsome boy called Park Jimin?” Taehyung chants his name repeatedly as Jeongguk smiles to himself from aside. Jin runs forward to envelop him in a big hug, pull his beanie off and ruffle his silver-grey hair which smells faintly of blossoming flowers.

“Yah, kid, we missed you.” Yoongi comments.

“Especially your ass.” Taehyung adds, sending the whole bunch of rowdy boys bursting into laughter.

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you some rest after that tiring flight from Korea. After that, we’ll party.” Namjoon says while loading Jimin’s luggage into the boot of his car.

“Besides, I believe you have someone you’re looking for here too.” Jeongguk mutters. Jimin smiles.

“I do.”

Day after

8:04P.M.

Juniper Bar

Jazz music plays in the background, with Taehyung mimicking the saxophonist’s nimble finger movement as he rambles on about his prior experience with the saxophone.

“It was like she was my lover. I needed her, she needed me. We would then have our private concert where she would be the star and the sounds of her would mesmerize the crowd. Sexy sounds, I would say.” Taehyung describes, with the occasional wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Dude, that sounds so suggestive.” Jimin comments as he exaggerates his shiver, his hands running all over his body.

“Goosebumps.” Jeongguk whispers. The group of them burst into laughter.

“Yo, Kookie, betcha couldn’t bust a note even if you tried, like, on the saxophone. Took me like three months and if that isn’t fast I don’t know what is.”

Tae finishes his blue cocktail and waves his hand carelessly in front of Jeongguk’s face.

“I betchu I can. I bet it on Jimin hyung’s fine ass!” Jeongguk retorts.

“Hey! Don’t drag me into this!” Jimin exclaims in fake horror, and the group of boys laugh again, with Jin’s window wiper laugh being especially loud this round.

Namjoon leans onto Jin with a low groan, grabbing only thin air when he tries to reach for Jin’s dark brown hair. Tired and half-drunk, he mumbles, “Did y’all hear about the festival thingy next week. Heard some peeps mentioning it a few days ago.”

Some ‘yes and ‘nos’ here and there, but then Jimin nudges Jeongguk’s side. Jeongguk stares into the addictive caramel brown of Jimin’s eyes. Light flashes across his irises, akin to shooting stars in a dark night sky when he says, “Hey, Kookie, how bout we give it a try. It sounds fun.”

Hoseok hollers, “Hell yeah!” before he stumbles onto his barstool. Namjoon chuckles at his fellow 94 liner, gently nudging Jin’s side.

Jeongguk almost trips over his tongue in his hurry to reply.

“Sure.”

You

Year 23.3

9.52 p.m.

Your room

F(x)’s ‘four walls’ reverberates against the walls of your room, quite literally the four walls of your room, as you shuffle across the wood flooring in your fluffy pink bunny slippers. Hopping, twirling like an ice skater across the ‘ice’, you take a calculated jump and land on the comfort of your bed, screeching, “triple axel!!!” ,proceeding to kick the blanket vigorously.

Queen Y/N claims the day again, as the crowd chants her name crazily, waving their big blue banners around. You stand up on your bed, take a deep bow, wave to the imaginary audience; blow a kiss.

“Love is four walls-”

You let yourself drop onto the bed, then wrap yourself up like a lil tiny warm fluffy sushi roll and huddle in the soft linens of your comforter, preparing to sleep in your super cute pastel pink rabbit pjs.

Well, not before the door to your room slams shut.

“AaaGhhH!! Will you please shut up!! I'm trying to have some beauty therapy time here!”

Claire charges in with a charcoal black mask plastered to her face; fiery red hair wrapped up in a white towel. Two thin slices of cucumber are held delicately in her left hand while her right tightly clutches the doorknob. She embodies rage; written in big red letters across her face.

“Sorry.” You sheepishly mumble, lightly tapping two of your fingers together in an attempt to appease her with your ‘cuteness’. She is unfazed, and only agrees to leave the war zone of your room after cursing loudly against your even louder music.

Amazing how she managed to put up with you as her roommate for the past few years.

You sigh in relief, but it is short lived, for Claire returns with a loudspeaker and shouts, “SHUT UP AND SLEEP! DON'T FORGET WHAT WE HAVE TO ATTEND TOMORROW.” right in your face. She storms out once again. A grand entrance, a grand finale.

Oh, right. Tomorrow. The ‘big’ day.

It’s the annual spring festival tomorrow, where practically almost everyone in the town gathers to celebrate, sing, dance, watch the cherry blossom petals fall. Mostly couples, though, who attend because of the ridiculously romantic atmosphere of the whole getup. Lots of families attend too, their children showering in the pale pink petals that flutter down from the trees; kiss them gently on the tip of their noses.

It’s especially important for you, too. You still have one more chance. One more chance to find that wretched soulmate of yours again and whoop his ass for escaping the first time. It’ll be a sight to see under the pretty spring backdrop.

Your fingertips trace the cherry blossom on your wrist, then press onto it slightly harder at the empty spots. The mini Claire in your head nags you to doll up and look real pretty tomorrow, for someone you are destined to see again, but just not today. You kiss your mark tenderly, then drift off into the world of dreams.

Tomorrow

You

11.52 a.m.

Apartment

“ Y/N!! Hurry your ass up! The festival probably started already!” Claire hollers from across the room, jamming her bright yellow strap on heels onto her tiny, perfect feet.

“Coming! Coming!!” You retort, hopping out of your room in a white blouse and a  flowery pleated skirt. You double check your makeup in the glassy reflection of the window while slipping on your white sneakers.

“We’re gonna make it on time.”

“So this was your idea of a fast way to get to the festival?” Claire half questions, half screeches.

“Yup!” You shout back, pedalling even faster on your bike to overtake the cars which stop at the red flash of light.

Thank goodness you wore safety pants under, and that your hair is in a loose mini bun.

Jimin

12:44 p.m.

Festival Venue

Though it’s only mid afternoon, the festival is happening. Children are running along the petal scattered road, ice cream and cotton candy in hand. Couples with matching marks stroll, hand in hand, under the trees, smiles plastered onto their faces. Love is written clearly in their eyes.

Jimin stares enviously at the pair while lapping away at his sea salt cherry blossom flavoured ice cream, Jeongguk by his side. The spring breeze is surprisingly refreshing, for it carries a tinge of flower fragrance which tickles at his nose. People stream past him continuously, as he sits there in silence with Jeongguk, soaking up the festive atmosphere.

Ice cream drips onto his hand when he doesn’t notice; it leaks onto his wrist.

“Aishh, not again.”

Jimin stares blankly at his wrist, the pink mark, identical to the current romantic backdrop of the festival, and smiles. Jeongguk glances over his shoulder, raising a brow at Jimin questioningly.

“Hyung.”

Jimin doesn't respond to the call.

Instead, the pink petals call out to him, entrance him, make him remember. They reach out, kiss his cheeks, tug at his cotton candy pink hair. They make him remember. He recalls his sole purpose in returning, for the image of her flashes right before his very eyes; it flits across his mind. He has to find her, no matter what.

And today might just be his day.

You

Claire literally drags you off the ridiculous get up of a pink bike and right into the heart of the festival, where music blasts at crazily high volumes. Cherry blossom ending by busker busker, a favorite amongst spring songs plays, and everyone starts to hum along; tap their feet to the rhythm.

Even you look up from your box of cherry blossom mochis to sway to the song ;relish in the cool spring breeze that blows at your hair lightly, the cotton candy held in your other hand fluttering in the breeze.

You, now let’s hold hands on this street How is this love song that you hear right now? I hold hands with you, whom I love As we walk together on this unknown street As the spring wind blows The scattering cherry blossom petals Spread out on this street As we walk together

At the back of your head, you suddenly feel a familiar ring, then a tingle that shoots down your spine. As though possessed, you look around for a figure, someone that resembles him. The wind pulls your hair to the left, as though to tell you :Hey! Look there! He’s there! Your legs decide to have a mind of their own, and you wander away from Claire, chasing your formerly lost lover solely based on feeling. You can feel it, 100 percent, that he’s around here somewhere. You just know it.

When the wind blows, my heart sounds to pound without knowing When the wind blows, from way over there, I keep seeing you When the wind blows, my heart sounds to pound without knowing When the wind blows, from way over there, I keep seeing you

A boy, from across the street, matches your eyes. He stares at you curiously, despite the petals that attempt to obscure your vision; to cut the connection between the two of you off. You would have missed him; you almost missed him, just because of his cotton candy hair that hides him delicately in the surroundings. It is impossible to miss him now, because you've already figured him out. The longing in his eyes that feels like a reflection of yours had already given him away. Nothing is stopping you now.

Jimin

He looks around, his eyes holding no purpose, except for the girl he is looking for. People walk around him, in front of him, beside him, but he takes no notice. Some girls walk past him and Jeongguk and giggle softly to themselves, but he does not heed them and neither does Jeongguk. The ice cream has long been finished and forgotten and the two just sit there in comfortable mutual silence.

Jeongguk glances around upon hearing the spring song from the other side, his ears chasing the melody, and he spots a familiar figure bouncing along at the other side of the street. She moves like a dandelion floating through the air, dancing in the breeze. Eyebrows scrunched, he thinks hard about who she is. It clicks in his mind.He turns around to tell Jimin.

“Hyung! Isn’t that-”

Then he realises that Jimin has already seen her. The girl on the other side locks eyes with Jimin, and Jimin rises to his feet.

No words further exchanged, he makes his way over to her.

Jeongguk smiles to himself while he watches Jimin’s silhouette get smaller and smaller as he gets further, further.

“Lucky him.”

3rd person POV

The two of you automatically gravitate towards each other, just like how unlike poles attract, the force pulling the two of you together is simply too strong to break. He runs towards you, you run towards him too. You meet in the middle, below the big cherry blossom tree, where the spring breeze blows once again, taking petals and the faint fragrance of flowers with it. Some petals entangle themselves in your hair and his. The two of you stand there and smile at each other because finally, finally you've found each other.

The both of you stand and stare; stare into each other’s eyes; immerse yourselves in their endless galaxies filled with stars and unexplored planets. You are his moon, and he is a lonely astronaut floating within your orbit, pulled towards you by gravity.

It’s almost as if you’ve read each other’s minds. Face flushed, you breathlessly mutter, “ Y/N, my name is Y/N.”

He timidly smiles to himself. His heart, his insides are bursting with colour upon hearing the sweetness of your voice; a sweet honey that he would absolutely get hooked on; a love drug he would submit himself to. Absolutely illegal.

“Park Jimin..from last time.”

Your heart leaps across oceans, continents and back. You hold your trembling hand out for him, your hand that trembles as much as your tiny heart. Your sleeve pulls back slightly to reveal your mark, a cherry blossom with two faded lines in the middle. Jimin glances back at his own wrist, and his mark matches yours.

“Soulmates?”

“Soulmates.”

Just before his hand meets yours, a tiny cherry blossom drifts down from the tree above. Slowly but surely, it lands in the square of your palm.

Surprised, the both of you let out a hearty laugh. His eyes form tiny crescents, twinkling and beautiful.

He closes in on the distance between you and him, enveloping you in his warm embrace; his arms wrapping around you tightly.

The cherry blossom tree rains pink on the couple below; it rains love, and love is quite literally in the air.

As for the both of you, nobody knows what the future may hold, but like what they say,  you will marry your first love if you catch a falling cherry blossom.

He was your first love.

And you were his.