#that terrible feeling of your friends moving forward while ur getting left behind

[movedtodykedvonte]

I feel like Addispam angst is heavily looked over compared to current or big shot spam angst.

We don’t know much but what we do know is heartbreaking. Imagine being that friend. The friend that is always struggling. That can never find their foot or get a grasp on things. The one that has to constantly congratulate others and only get half hearted or feigned reassurances that your time will come. That keeps trying and trying and gets no where. Who can’t seem to figure out why everything works for everyone else but him. In a lot of aspects he is relatable as he can be considered even less than the underdog.

Addison Spamton has so much material for heartbreak.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings  @thaticecreambish  @hee-hee-haw  @dearnataliealoveletter  @wasteofspacze  @dcml04  @bbigbbrainn  @dirtydiavolo  @vanhakirja  @rinzyx05  @misselsbells06  @ialexabsuniverse  @im-a-depressed-gay  @energy-drinkk  @mothra-main  @i-need-hugs  @dragons-lurk-here  @katj733  @m4r-s  @vievi  @dykeragee  @waterstrawberry  @aplaintart  @kakamiissad  @myunfinishedsymphony  @nagitokinnieissad  @autumnpleaves  @justanothergirlwithdemons  @zachariethememerie  @moon-asia  @m0on-blue  @strawberrysodababy  @akikko-yataro  @haikkeiji  @shiningsunrises  @cinnamonmochi  @queen-turtle-boiii  @imanewsoul  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelicaschuyler-church  @vixenfoxpup  @ella-ivanov  @shio-yuki  @mosstea-png  @ijustshatbricks

[kirislut]

Hiiii, it is me 😎✌️ I had this request in my mind for a while, and when I found ur page I was like, I feel like you’d write it perfectly!!!! The request: Bakugou or Todoroki having a very tough day, then when their S/O tries to bring them like soup or smth, they throw it on the floor, and the glass cuts the S/Os hands and they try to hide it while picking up everything, and when the boy sees their hand w a bandage later on in the day, they feel SO GUILTY!! Also, w fluff at the end pls! Thank u!

a/n: heyyy 😎✌️, first, thanks for this request! second, i don’t know if i can write it perfectly but i hope you like it absksj. definitely don’t feel any pressure 😳 (i got too excited and wrote a lot....whoops)

warnings: bakugou(swearing), mention of getting cut, mention of blood

Katsuki Bakugou

bakugou is an angry guy, everyone knows that. but today he was especially pissed off. he had gotten into a heated argument with kirishima after training. usually he didn’t care but this time he knew he was wrong but was too damn stubborn and prideful ever admit it.

so instead of working it out with his best friend he was just extra pissed off today. which was unfortunate for you.

when he came back to the shared dorms, you were busy cooking some spicy ramen for the both of you. luckily you had finished training earlier that day, so you and time to surprise your boyfriend!

stomping feet could be heard as you dished yourself and bakugou up, and hearing the stomping meant you knew he was close by. lucky for you he was actually sitting at a nearby table, grumbling to himself about something. you didn’t know what however.

excited to surprise your lover, you practically skip over to the angry blonde. “katsuki! i made some spicy for you~” when you set the bowl in front of him he just grunted and swiped it off the table. “leave me the fuck alone.”

he didn’t even spare you a glance as you just gawked at him, what had you done wrong? gulping nervously you’re just turned to start cleaning up. you used napkins to pick up and wipe up the spilled ramen then started to pick up the broken ceramic.

you didn’t notice that a particular piece was sharp, grabbing it caused you to feel a stinging situation in your palm. so when you pulled away it dragged, creating a now bleeding gash in your palm.

a whimper escaped from you, quickly applying pressure to the wound to delay the bleeding. you moved to the kitchen and used paper towels to clean up your bloody palm, all while bakugou sat there blissfully unaware.

as you cleaned yourself up, the still extra angry male got up from the table and stomped off to his room. he scolded you to leave him alone, because he was actuallt considering apologizing. that thought was pissing him off, and not to mention thinking about how to be kind for once was a slight challenge. only because he was stubborn in this matter.

by the time bakugou was in his dorm room, you had finished up cleaning and were now wrapping up your hand with some gauze because a bandaid wouldn’t suffice. even if bakugou didn’t eat the ramen, didn’t mean you would let it go to waste.

but as your began to ate, you were replaying the situation to try and figure out what went wrong. sure bakugou has a bad temper but this was a different kind of anger which you haven’t seen before. you were absolutely certain you didn’t do anything wrong, so why was bakugou upset?

quickly finishing up your meal and putting away your dishes, you went to bakugou’s room because you were worried about him. it was honestly kinda crazy on how you weren’t even angry or upset with the male, just worried for him because you loved him that much.

everyone has their moments and slip ups were they release their anger on to someone else unintentionally, and you knew that very well. because of a certain boy.

standing in front of your boyfriends door, you knocked. when he didn’t respond after a few seconds you just opened the door and proceeded.

“oi! who said you— oh.” his angry expression faltered when he saw you standing there. lucky for you he was able to calm down after thinking it through and developing a plan. a perfect plan to be precise. nothing less from the ambitious guy himself.

“about earlier, are you okay? you haven’t eaten yet and i know you’re angry.” you shut the door behind you and join bakugou on his bed. bakugou lets out a sigh, leaning back against his headboard and staring at the ceiling.

“you a stalker or something? how can you always read me so well.” bakugou let out another sigh, this time more of a huff as he patted the space beside him. signaling you to sit by him.

as you scooted over to place yourself by him you responded, “i’m your lover katsuki, i think it would be bad if i didn’t know you well wouldn’t it?” the blonde glanced at you then did a little nod. he knew you knew him well, and he kinda loved how sometimes you could practically read his mind.

“i got into a fight with shittyhair, i don’t want to say more because i know i’ll get mad again.” as the spiky blonde explained, he noticed the gauze around your hand. he immediately grabbed your wrist, being gentle, and brought you hand up. “what happened.”

hearing bakugou’s stern tone made you gulp, “i cut myself that’s all! just need to be more careful.” even though you were playing cool bakugou also knew you too well as well. he thought back to when he spotted you in the kitchen, you didn’t have this before. even if you thought bakugou didn’t spare you a glance, he would always look at you once. whether you notice it or not.

his jaw clenched when he realized that he was the cause of this, great today he fucked up twice with two of the people he valued deeply. his silence was definitely worrying you, was he going to yell? you weren’t sure what to expect for once.

his next move you did give you a bit of a surprise. your boyfriend leaned forward and pressed such a soft kiss against your forward. you never knew his kisses could feel so gentle yet loving. “i’m sorry.”

even if his apology was simple, it was all he needed to say. the rest was communicated with his actions. you smiled brightly at bakugou, reciprocating his actions, you pressed a loving kiss against his lips.

the rest of the night was filled with lots of kisses and a plethora of cuddles.

Shouto Todoroki

there is no beating around the bush here, todoroki was having an absolutely terrible day. he was supposed to visit his mother but his father visited him instead. he lectured his son about how he needs to focus on becoming the number one hero, not messing around with a lover. this led to an agruement which also stopped him from seeing his mother because visiting hours had ended by the time he got there.

so when he came back to the dorm, after an entire day basically going garage. he was not happy, in fact he was quite pissed. he didn’t even try to hide his scowl as he passed by you.

“sho? hey sho what’s wrong?” your boyfriend stopped to look back at you. “(y/n) i’m fine. just a little tired.” todoroki went to turn, but you grabbed his hand.

“are you sure? you should eat dinner before going to bed at least. i even have some left over cold soba!” before he could reject you you dragged him off into the kitchen and served him the left over soba you made for yourself not to long ago.

“(y/n) i’m not hungry.” he replied simply. but you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. “sho please eat.” you insisted.

this turned into a banter of back and forth between you two. you kept insisting he ate, whike todoroki kept refusing. he was losing his patience with each time.

as a last cause resort and grabbed his hand and placed the bowl in it, “shouto you need to eat!” your tone was raised and more stern this time. you weren’t angry but just concerned and worried.

but this pushed todoroki over the edge. his hands trembled for a moment before he chucked the bowl at the ground, “(y/n), you don’t need to act like a parent. i can do whatever i want.”

the fact that todoroki didn’t even raise his voice at you, yet it held so much anger, made you tremble in fear. you stood there frozen in shock as your boyfriend proceeded to walk away.

your fists clenched at your sides, now you were getting upset like todoroki was. how could he just throw the food on the ground? besides he was never one to act like this. sure he got angry, as everyone does, but it was another level.

you crouched down and started to pick up the broken pieces of the bowl. trying your best to be careful. but as you reached for a piece of ceramic, another piece of the broken bowl dragged along your finger. immediately you pulled your hand back, cringing at the stinging sensation. there was another piece of bowl beside the one you were reaching, which had a sharp edge sticking up towards you.

you swore under your breath as bleed started to leak from the wound, getting up to take care of it before you finished cleaning up.

on the other hand, todoroki was cooling off in his room. and now starting to feel guilty for what he had said and done. he knew he shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. but you just happened to push him over the edge.

he wasn’t angry with you, no, mostly at himself. he knew he should’ve informed his father himself that he started dating you, but he never got around to it. which led him to finding out on his own and the previous agruement to occur.

but even if his father disagreed, there was no way he was going to lose you. he would prove that you were no distraction, and in fact motivation. before he could prove that, he need to apologize to you first.

leaving his room, he went back down to see if you were still in the kitchen area. but you weren’t, so he went back up to the dorm rooms.

when he got to your room, he didn’t bother knock and just opened the door. “(y/n)?” hearing todoroki’s voice made you look up from your phone. you were just scrolling on social media to take your mind off you little fight with your boyfriend

“shouto, do you need something?” you watched as he came into your room, shutting the door behind him, and going straight to you. he sat himself down across from you, looking at his lap as he thought of how to say what he wanted.

“i’m sorry for throwing your soba. i’m sure it was amazing, but i was just angry. before i was able to visit my mother, my father stopped me give me a scolding about how he disagrees with our relationship.” todoroki looked up at you as he finished, surprised to see how sad you looked.

“but (y/n) don’t worry, i’m not letting him stop our relationship. i can never give you up, please remember that i always love you.” he reached out and gently held your face in his hands, not wanting you to think that he would ever let someone like his father get in the way of you both.

your frown was soon replaced with a smile, honestly you were slightly embarrassed to let yourself think that todoroki would give up on your relationship just because of his own dad.

nuzzling you’re face into his touch, you reached up and covered his hands with your own. but as you did so, todoroki was quick to notice that your finger was covered up by a large bandage.

“was that from me?” todoroki asked as he frowned, letting go of your face and carefully taking your hand so that he could look at your finger.

“no sho! it was my fault, i was careless.” you watched as todoroki lightly shook his head. “no it’s my fault my love, i’m sorry again.” he brought your hand up to his face and placed a warm kiss against your bandaged finger.

watching him made your heart flutter, how did you end up with such a caring boy? todoroki didn’t stop kissing just your finger. he kissed the back of your palm then moved forward to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your lips.

you smiled happily against his lips. you just so happy to know that nothing could get between you and your beloved. not even his father. and not even a bowl of soba.

[ray-ray-writings]

i don't really know how this thought came to me but consider a reader who's a pillager hybrid of their whole family are pillagers but the reader doesn't really... agree with their lifestyle so they run away and move to the Dream SMP and no one knows they're pillager origins until their family comes looking for them?? also i've been binging ur stuff, i love ur blog, this is my first time asking :)

I really really love this idea, I’m such a sucker for things like this hahahaha.

But yeah. So you’re born and raised in a Pillager tower, your mother was a human that your father fell in love with once he saw her being cruel to villagers. Growing up you were always taken on the raids when your parents would go on and you would watch as Villagers were slaughtered left and right with no mercy. It always made you feel sick to your stomach while many others were having the time of their lives. When the raid was over and won, you would go back to the tower and people would marvel in their victories, and you would pretend you were also excited, but those nights were always plagued with nightmares of the villagers’ screams and fire that destroyed the towns. As you grew up, you were able to make your own decisions. So you went on less raids, still going on some to please your parents, but the guilt grew more and more with each town destroyed. So when you finally turned 18, you decided to leave for good. You packed up everything that you could carry in your inventory and wrote a small note to your parents explaining that you had to leave, you couldn’t raid and pillage any longer. You left the note on your mother’s nightstand, pressing a small kiss to both of their foreheads before leaving the only place you’ve ever called home. 

You wander for the whole night, the mobs leaving you alone (after all, like kind recognizes like) and then for half the day once the sun comes up before you stumble into the SMP. From far off in the distance you can see multiple beacons of light coming from inside a really really big stone building. So like a moth, you’re drawn to the light and wander inside this castle. You stumble onto a wooden plank path that seems to go everywhere are the new town you have found. As you’re walking through the castle just looking around, you aren’t paying attention and you stumble, literally stumble, into someone. You catch yourself before you fall and you look to who you just ran into. You see a man with a green hoodie, a white smiley face mask with blonde tufts of hair poking out of the top. “Woah there… Who are you, I’ve never seen you before” he questions, his tone kind of harsh. You don’t blame him though, a complete stranger wandering into this new place uninvited, you’re honestly surprised you didn’t get an axe to the head. “Hi. Sorry, I’m Y/N. I’ve just… I’ve just left home and I saw this place. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll leave now!” You rush out, attempting to turn around and run out of the castle, but a hand catches your wrist. “Hey wait a minute,” he commands softly, turning you back around. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I was just surprised… You said you just left home?” You give the man a shy nod, “Yeah, my people were… doing some things I didn’t approve of and so I left as soon as I was able to… I can leave now if you want” The man doesn’t let go of your wrist, “You said you just left home?” You nod in confirmation, “Well, if you want, you could live here. Well not here in the castle, but here in the SMP. I’m Dream and this is my SMP. There are a lot of people here that are actually very nice. You can build your house in the SMP and live here. But if you want to keep wandering, that’s okay too” the man called Dream offers. You think about it for a moment, “Do you think you could show me around before I make my decision?” Dream gives you a quick nod before letting go of your wrist, “Of course. Do you want to go now?” “Sure!” So Dream shows you around the SMP and introduces you to a few new people who all give you waves and friendly smiles and welcome you to the new land. All throughout the tour, Dream subtly asks you about where you're from, but you brush off his questions and for once in his life he doesn’t push it. “So what do you think? You want to stay here?” You give a quick look around and think about everyone you met, “Yeah, I would thank you!” 

And so you stay. You build your house, something with light wood that doesn’t resemble a tower at all. You also make friends with everyone else on the SMP. Somehow you reveal that you’re really good at combat with an axe and a crossbow, probably while sparring with someone, maybe Tommy because we all know he would definitely challenge a new person to duel him and then call you a coward so you would duel him and win and claim you cheated, but it makes everyone stare at you in wonder for a little bit and become just a little more afraid of you. You never tell anyone where you’re from or that you’re part pillager and that your family is made up of pillagers. You don’t think it’s important. That’s in your past and the SMP is your family now so now your family is made up of even more hybrids and more diverse people. Your past remains in your past… Until it comes knocking at your front door… 

You wake one morning to a pounding on your front door. You of course are very confused because you weren’t expecting anyone. But you get out of bed and answer the door and you find  a panicked Tommy and Tubbo standing there. “Boys, what can I-” “There are a bunch of pillagers here. They’re asking about you. They’re threatening to burn everything down if we don’t bring you.” Tubbo rambles. “We won’t let them take you and we were told to keep you here, but we just thought we should let you know.” Tommy chimes in. Your blood runs cold. Why? Why is this happening? You don’t answer the boys and you ignore their ‘keep you here bs’ before you reach over and grab your axe and crossbow and run out of the house. Tubbo and Tommy yell after you, share a look before, and run after you. You run up and find a few people, Dream, Techno, Wilbur, Philza, Sapnap, Punz, (Ya know, the best fighters… foreshadowing lol) and standing opposite of them your parents with a few other pillagers behind them. The sound of your footsteps caused all heads to snap to you. Everyone from the SMP seemed shocked to see you and stared past you and glared at the two boys. “You were supposed to keep them home” Dream hisses to the children. “They took off before we could stop them” Tubbo pants, trying to catch his breath. “Y/N go home” Techno demands, but you don’t listen. All of your attention is focused on those you used to call your family. “What are you doing?” You ask exasperated. Your father smirks at you, “Oh my dear child we’re here to bring you home of course.” And you can feel all eyes snap to you. A wave of disappointment flooded you, they all knew now. “They know” you’d think to yourself, “They know what a horrible person you are and what terrible past you come from.” You take a deep breath before speaking again, “I’m not coming home. This is my home now. Go away, leave us alone.” Laughter bubbles from the group in front of you, “Oh silly silly child. You are not home, home is back at the tower. Come now.” Your mother says, beckoning you forward. “No. I’m not going.” The smirks and smiles turn into angry stares, “No? Oh, I see how it is” your mother speaks up. “Too bad you are coming with us.” Your father barks before lunging forward for you and attempts to grab you. Before you can even react, you’re being pulled back and you’re now being protected. The two most powerful people on the server, Dream and Techno, have formed a wall in front of you with their weapons pointed at the pillagars. “Now,” Techno begins, his monotone voice two octaves deeper and threatening, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Your father lunges forward once more, throwing his fist out, trying to punch Techno in the face. Techno simply caught your father’s wrist and smirked, “Alright, hard way it is” 

A full on brawl begins. 

Techno quickly takes your father while Dream takes your mother. Everyone else charges and begins fighting the rest of them. Fists are flying before arrows join the ranks in that as well. You begin fighting someone you barely recognize. Your whole energy and focus is on winning because you know if you lose it’s back to raiding and pillaging villages and you really don’t want to. You manage to down the person you’re fighting and you turn and see that all the other pillagers are either also downed or being fought by one of your friends. Your eyes catch Techno and Dream who were still fighting your father and mother respectively. You’re just about to approach when Techno gets your father in a chokehold and manages to completely debilitate him. “Call them off” Techno demands. Your father doesn’t say anything at first, his fingers desperately clawing at the arm around his throat. Techno squeezes tighter, “Did I hesitate? I said call them off” Finally your father comes to his senses, “Retreat!” He gasps out. Immediately all of the pillagers stop their fight and run back to where they were first gathered up. Techno lets go of your father and gives him a hard shove in the direction. Your father moves to stand next to your mother and all eyes fall on you again. “Leave. And never come back, or I won’t hesitate to let them kill you” your speak, your voice stone cold. You can tell your mother wants to protest, but your father catches her wrist and shakes his head no. Without another word, your father turns around and walks through the crowd and toward the direction of their tower. Confused and a little irritated all other pillagers turn too and follow your father back to where they came from. 

You and the rest stand there and watch them retreat until they are out of sight. And once again all eyes fall on you. You can’t help but look to the ground as tears form in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they would come for me… I understand if you want me to leave forever… Now that you know what I truly am… A monster” you spit out the words as if their poison. It is quiet for a moment and you figure that they’re all silently agreeing. You’re about to speak again when a pair of arms wrap tightly around you, and then another, and another, and another, until you’re pretty sure everyone there, even Techno, is in the group hug. The tears that had welled up in your eyes were now freely falling down your cheeks. “Y/N,” Dream begins, “We never want you to leave. Why would you think that?” A pathetic sob escapes your lips, “Because I’m part pillager because I raided and destroyed villages. I’m a monster, Dream. I don’t deserve you guys.” Everyone seems about to jump in, but through blurry eyes you see Philza give them all a look. All of the arms let you go, except for one pair that holds you even tighter, “Y/N, you’re not a monster. What you did today and what you have done in the past proves it. Today you refused to go with them, you ran away from them, you didn’t want to be a part of their lifestyle. You’re not a monster hun, you never were and you never will be” Philza comforts. His words hit your heart. You’re not a monster, no one thinks you’re a monster. More sobs escape your lips, this time they’re sobs of relief. They don’t want you to leave. You’re safe here. Philza lets you cry in his arms, he holds you for as long as you need. After a few moments you compose yourself and slowly pull out of the blonde man’s arms. “Sorry about that” you apologize, clearing your throat. “Didn’t mean to lose my cool there” Everyone around you laughs. “It’s okay Y/N. You’ve just had a big emotional thing happen, and you were pulled right of bed to experience it. It’s okay that you’re a little emotional.” Wilbur comforts, taking a step forward and resting a warm hand on your back. You completely pull away from Phil and give the tall boy a quick hug. “Hey are we doing individual hugs, because I want a hug too!” Sapnap chimes, marching forward and flinging his arms open. You can’t help but giggle and pull away from Wilbur, “We can do individual hugs if you want too” You claim, falling into his open arms. He lets out a triumphant lap and swings you around in joy. “Alright hog, let them go we want hugs too” Sapnap, still holding on to you, looks over his shoulder before picking you up and running away with you. “Hey selfish! Get back here!” And soon everyone is chasing you and Sapnap around demanding hugs. This wasn’t how you planned to tell everyone about your past, you’re not sure if you ever were going to, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

[brandywine-tomatoes]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a fluffy Lydia x reader where the reader is really bad at flirting, but absolutely loves being flirted with, as well as cuddling and being cuddled! Y’know, the usual fluff stuff. ❤️❤️❤️ Love ur aesthetics btw!

Natural Beauty

Masterlist

1 634 words

tw: none, just a bit of fluff in hallways at lunch

a/n: ahhhh!! Thank you so much for the request! I’m sorry it took this long, chemistry is taking up a lot of my time. I hope this is alright!! (and thank you for being my first request 💕)

“You need to learn how to repress your feelings better, it’s incredibly obvious,” your friend Anya said out of the blue from the desk beside you.

You whipped your head around. “What? What’s obvious?”

“You like her, plain as day, you’ve been staring at her for weeks. She’s your best friend, just tell her,” she went back to writing whatever was written on the chalkboard.

“I do not!” Your voice rose an octave. “She’s just that, a friend.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she smirked at you.

You hadn’t been staring at her, just... admiring her. She was a work of the best artist, her smile perfect and lifted the clouds from your mind, how could anyone not admire her? But this was different. She was your closest friend, and you were her first friend at school, though that had been a different time. You both were young and innocent, now you were a year away from graduating and everything seemed to become more free-flowing and fast-paced. But Lydia was always there, she was the constant throughout all of it, who helped you when no one else could. She laughed at your terrible puns and stayed late on the phone to help you stop crying. She’d trusted you enough that she even invited you to meet her dad and stepmother and told you ghost stories until you drifted off to sleep beside her.

“You’re staring again,” Anya mumbled.

“I’m never sitting next to you again,” you sarcastically grumbled, trying to catch up on the photography notes.

Lydia sat a couple rows in front of you beside the window, her face always illuminated by the natural light while she furiously scribbled down notes and listened intently. She was incredibly talented; she could be accepted into the best schools for photography and that would be with her ‘worst’ photos. She just loved it so much.

“Okay class,” the teacher started, standing up to pack her bags. “There will be a project due in the next couple of days, very simple and covers what we’ve learned so far. I want you to find a natural beauty and capture it, keeping in mind the composition techniques we’ve learned. This will determine your status in the course.”

As she finished, the irritating bell rang over the intercom, signalling the start of lunch and a bit of freedom.

You and Anya packed your things and left the classroom in a hurry, not wanting to be caught in the stampede of students. You both stood close to the wall, waiting for Lydia.

The highway of students thinned out and only the ones who hung out in the hallways at lunch were occupying it.

“What’s taking her so long, I’ve got food to eat,” Anya asked.

“Dunno, maybe she’s talking with Ms. Wilson?” You shrugged.

“If she doesn’t come out soon, I’m gonna starve to death. I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, she can’t be much longer,” you reasoned, looping your arm in hers so she wouldn’t abandon you.

“This could be considered hostage-taking,” she retorted.

“This is a sign of friendship.”

She chuckled at that. “You’re so ‘sunshine and rainbows’, maybe Lydia will change that.”

“What am I changing?” Lydia walked out of the classroom with Ms. Wilson behind her, walking in the other direction.

“Apparently I’m too much of a ray of sunshine for little miss ‘I’m a hostage’,” you looped your other arm in hers to her surprise and started walking towards your lockers down the hall.

Lydia held onto your arm, the gesture warming your cheeks a bit. “Oh yeah, 100%, we’ve gotta work towards corrupting you.”

“New project for the spring, corrupt little miss sunshine.” Anya unlopped her arm and went to unlock her locker.

You realized Lydia was still clinging to your arm and your free hand found itself wrapped around hers. Your heart started pounding and you quickly let go to unlock your own locker.

“Any other projects I should be aware of?” You asked jokingly.

Anya gestured to an occupied Lydia opening her locker beside you. “Many in the works.”

You playfully slapped Any’s arm, feeling the heat rising up your neck and locked your locker.

The 3 of you slid down the lockers and started talking about whatever came to mind and shared the food you collectively had. As the minutes ticked away, somehow Lydia’s head ended up in your lap and your hands played with locks of her short black hair while Anya couldn’t stop smiling at the sight.

“So, then I was like ‘he wouldn’t do that! You’ve got be kidding me!’ and they were all ‘nope, he did, he let every bug he could find in into the house’ and then I was like ‘well where is he?’ and they were all-” Lydia went on about her step-uncle, her hands animated in the air for emphasis.

You had a little smile on your face as you looked at her passionately going on about her family. Your back was getting sore from leaning on the locker, but you didn’t dare move.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Lydia’s voice interrupted your thinking.

“Yeah?”

“You were staring,” Anya almost vibrated off the floor in excitement.

Oh no oh no you thought. Lydia could get the wrong idea... or was it the right idea?

“I wasn’t staring, just thinking,” you defended, Lydia looking up at you with curious eyes, causing more anxiety.

“Anyways,” Lydia thankfully interrupted, seeing you were uncomfortable. “I asked if you had any ghost stories.”

“I mean, I believe in them, sure, but I’ve never met any.”

Lydia’s lips quirked up. “You’ll meet some one day.”

“Is that a promise, Deetz?”

“You betcha babe,” Lydia winked. Anya choked on a french fry and you looked anywhere but Lydia, laughing nervously and your face feeling incredibly hot. You were suddenly very aware of your hands still playing with the locks of her hair and slowly pulled them away reluctantly.

“Aw, you’re blushing! You’re so cute when you blush!” She excitedly said as she sat up, her face inches apart. You swallowed and looked to the ground, to the wall behind her, to your fidgeting hands, anywhere but the gorgeous girl in front of you. You finally turned your gaze to her and saw hers was observing your lips. She looked from your lips to your eyes, then again, and you swore the corners of lips turned up when you let your gaze slide to hers.  

The irritating bell rang out, echoing off the walls and made you jump back. Lydia smirked and gathered her things into her bag. You sat there for a moment, stunned and really confused. You thought she was actually going to kiss you, in a school hallway, in front of Anya, around everyone else, against the no PDA rule. You told yourself you didn’t want that to happen as you packed up your things and let Anya help you up who was grinning like an idiot. 

Your breath hitched when Lydia looked at your lips, you almost leaned in, you imagined cupping her cheek and holding her closer then would be considered just platonic, you wanted that to happen. But you always felt like that, you always felt your heart pounding when she grabbed your hand to lead you to class and tried to keep your breathing even when she was bumped closer or when she flirted shamelessly with you.

You vaguely remember saying goodbye to a beaming Anya and walking slowly through the crowd to your next class, lost in thought. Well, lost in figuring out what you were going to do about Lydia.

“What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours, Y/N?” Lydia came up beside you. You snapped out of it and halfheartedly smiled.

“Oh come on, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?” She stepped in front of you, her eyebrows turned down and a worried look in her eyes. The students behind gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

“No, of course not, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You gave her a reassuring smile, though she didn’t look convinced. You put your hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore your rising heartbeat. “If you did anything wrong, I’d tell you.”

She put her hands on top of yours, a relieved smile overtaking her features. “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.”

“Isn’t your class the other way?”  

She winked and pulled you forward, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “I can run.”

Her short hair tickled your jaw and you could see her dark purple lipstick shimmer in the fluorescent light. The crowd thinned out as everyone got to their classes, leaving you two walking through the empty halls. You walked to your art history class in a comforting silence, consumed by your own thoughts.  

You finally got to the plain entrance of the class and Lydia slid her arm off your shoulder to your dismay. You both faced each other, waiting for the other to say something, a goodbye or a confusion.

“You wanna come over after school? You know, to do the photography assignment?” She asked.

“Uh, sure!” You replied a little too eager. “I don’t really know what to do for it, but I guess I’ll think of something.”

Lydia smirked at you and began walking back down the hallway. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Well, what’s the idea?”

“You.”

She blew a kiss and ran back down the hall, leaving you fumbling and blushing like crazy.

Once your heart slowed down, you smiled to yourself, wondering if the goth girl of Winter River really had a thing for you. Maybe she really did think of you like you thought of her. Maybe you could really be her natural beauty.

[tetsurobunni]

Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker

☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words

☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya

☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel

☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)

☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))

hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit

You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.

This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.

He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.

You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.

Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.

Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.

You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.

Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.

You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.

Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.

A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.

“You look like shit.”

That was not Kita.

“Suna? what the fuck?”

“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”

Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please

“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”

You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.

The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.

Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”

“What.”

“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.

Infuriating.

“You’re shivering.”

It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.

“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.

He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.

“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”

You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.

Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.

You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.

“Hey, you okay?”

Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.

“Hey, hey now, look at me.”

The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.

“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”

Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.

Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.

This is purgatory.

You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“S’fine.”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.

Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.

“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”

You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Like I care.”

“Yea, okay princess.”

You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.

This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.

The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.

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

You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.

You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.

A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.

“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”

A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.

“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.

“Yea...how did you-“

“I pay attention.”

Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?

“You look good in my clothes.”

So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.

“Should wear ‘em more often.”

“Shut- shut up.”

“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.

“A little. Still feel like shit.”

“Look it, too.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.

“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean, hm?”

You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…

“That bastard.”

“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”

Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-

“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.

You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.

After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.

“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”

“You’re going to catch my cold.”

“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.

what the fuck did i do to deserve this?

You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.

“Y/n.” You ignored him.

“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.

“What, Suna.”

“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.

“Why am I any different than anyone else?”

“Because…”

You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”

Okay, now you were annoyed.

“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”

“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“

“Would you shut up for one second and think.”

You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.

“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”

It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.

“You...you like me?”

“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”

All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.

i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.

“You are a menace, Rintaro.”

“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Oh shush, ya love me.”

“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”

“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”

“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.

“Hate you, too.”

[apocalypticbadass]

I F**king Love You

Not my photo!

A/N: hi friends! here’s my first post lol, yes it’s a smut if that tells you anything about me. this one’s pretty light because i had the idea at work and thought it was cute, but plenty more hardcore stuff is coming ;) there’s never enough Cullen smut out there, so hopefully i’ll have the drive to keep writing more. let me know if you guys like this, or if you have any requests, i would be so happy to take those!

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Description: Reader comes home from work exhausted, Emmett knows just how to fix her up and make her feel alright.

Warnings: Light smut, fluff, cursing, ur fav himbo Emmett Cullen.

Word Count: 1.72k

Masterlist

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Emmett cradled (y/n) in his arms as she groaned, her phone alarm shrilly announcing that it was time for her to get ready for work. The girl nearly slunk off of her and her boyfriend’s shared bed. After she slipped on jeans and a work shirt, she turned back to her vampire boyfriend. (Y/n) straddled him and tangled her fingers into his dark hair, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.

“Fuck, I don’t want to go to work.”

“I’ll make it worth your while when you come back, beautiful.” Emmett said suggestively.

“Yes please. Need you to fuck me really good, I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.” (Y/n) whined, now 100x more reluctant to go to work.

He smirked and let his mind wander for a moment. “That I can do, babygirl. Just be good for daddy and go to work for a few hours first, then this cock is all yours. ‘kay honey?”

She smiled humorously, pulling him in for one last kiss. “Yeah, yeah. If it’ll get me fucked real good I’ll do anything.”

Emmett’s massive hands gave her butt a quick squeeze. “Your ass looks bangin’ in those jeans, babe.”

“Thank you, bubba.” She giggled, kissing the tip of his nose sweetly. “I love you, I’m off.”

“I love you so much, sweetheart. Have a good shift.”

Even though (y/n) ended up having a pretty routine shift at work, her feet were killing her and everything seemed to be getting on her nerves today. She barely had the energy to walk out to her car. Tears began to prick her eyes as she thought about Emmett and how he was probably getting ready for her arrival. She knew for a fact that she was far too tired to have the sex she promised tonight, but wanted to avoid disappointing her boyfriend at all costs. (Y/n) shut the door of her car and drove home listening to the radio, trying not to be too upset. After driving all the way home on autopilot, she parked and entered hers and Emmett’s home, dumping her bags by the door. She trudged upstairs before sighing and pushing the bedroom door open slowly.

There he was. Emmett sat shirtless on their bed with a warm smile on his features, ready to welcome (y/n) home. The way his abs rippled as he perked up at the sound of her made the girl’s mouth water, but her eyes began to do the same.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Emmett was at (y/n)’s side in a flash, picking his girlfriend up like a child and hooking his index finger under her chin so they were eye-to-eye. “Talk to me, sugar.”

(Y/n)‘s lip trembled before she spoke “Em, I’m really tired, too tired to have sex. But I’m so angry with myself because I really didn’t want to disappoint you and I know you were looking forward to sex and I promised sex so I feel terrible not following through and I-”

Emmett cut her off gently with a sweet kiss, they could both taste the tears that had begun to stream down (y/n)‘s cheeks. “Sweetheart, please calm down. I’m not disappointed in the slightest. You really think I would be mad because you stood up for yourself and changed your mind? It was simply an incentive to go to work, just so if you needed something to look forward to, I would be there. We can have sex another time, my love, we do it almost every day.” He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and wiping tears away.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It was just stressing me out because the amount I want you isn’t even funny, I just don’t have the physical energy tonight.”

You could almost see the lightbulb that turned on above Emmett’s head. “I have an idea. If you’re stressed and you still want me to make you cum, I would be happy to put my mouth to work. Only if you want me to, of course.”

The change in (y/n)’s heartbeat and breathing told the vampire right away what her answer was. However, she wouldn’t give it to him that easy. “But then you’re not getting anything out of it! That’s what I’m upset about, I promised you pleasure and I didn’t deliver.”

“Are you kidding me? You think eating your pussy isn’t pleasurable for me? I could prolly cream my pants just eating you out and listening to the noises you make for me.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened and her jaw fell slack. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”

He smirked. “Is that a yes, princess?”

“Yes please, Em, that would be so nice.”

Emmett gave her a quick eskimo kiss and they teamed up to remove all of (y/n)’s clothing, besides her panties. He flashed her a wide grin before gently flipping her onto her stomach. His strong hands massaged circles down her back as he kissed her neck. She moaned almost immediately as his fingers worked the stress out of her body. Emmett’s thumbs came to circle the small of her back as he sucked marks into her shoulder blades. He cupped her butt with his two hands and felt that for a moment before placing her on her back and pressing his lips to hers. 

“I love you so much.” He murmured, trailing his lips down her neck and collarbones, stopping for a moment to pay some attention to each nipple. He truly was the king of foreplay, making sure she was completely turned on before they started anything. As his lips made contact with (y/n)’s hipbones, his thick fingers brushed against her clothed core. He could feel just how soaked she was, and he internally jumped with excitement. No matter how many times he got the pleasure of making her feel this way, Emmett still reflected on how lucky he was that the beautiful woman underneath him loved and trusted him with her whole body. He was sure to never disappoint.

Emmett’s hand gripped her hips lightly, and he used his thumbs to stroke the skin underneath (y/n)’s waistband, teasing her slightly, before gently pulling them down her legs and off of her. His large hands smoothed out her inner thighs and spread her legs. He paused for a moment to take in the beautiful view in front of him, her pussy glistening and ready for his mouth.

“Emmett?”

“Yes ma’am?” “Would you please hold my hand?”

Emmett’s un-beating heart simply burst with love at this moment in time. “Of course I will, kitten.”

The fingers on Emmett’s right hand intertwined themselves with those on (y/n)’s left, and he placed his other hand on her hips to steady her.

He kissed her thighs a few times before licking a stripe directly up the center of her folds and plunging his tongue deep inside of her. This earned him a breathy groan, sending a jolt straight to his cock. He hadn't realized how hard he was until this moment, but stuck it out of his mind. He would be damned if he let anything get in the way of him giving his woman a mind-blowing orgasm tonight. (Y/n)’s free hand dipped into Emmett’s dark hair, pulling at it’s roots and scratching his scalp. The vampire moaned into the touch, sending vibrations through (y/n)’s pussy. He wrapped his lips around her clit and began to lick, suck, and nip at the bundle of nerves, quickly making her fall apart underneath his touch. Emmett continued building up the pressure, pushing the girl closer to her orgasm with every move.

“Fuck, Em, please. Please, God, don't stop.” Emmett smirked into her pussy and continued at a fervent pace, noticing again how his cock ached as she said his name. He realized how true his earlier statement was about to be, as he neared his own orgasm. “Jesus Christ, baby, please! I'm so close, fuck!”

This was all it took to send them both over the edge. (Y/n) squirted all over her boyfriend’s face, and he wasted no time lapping it all up and coaxing her through her orgasm. Emmett did, in fact, cream his pants listening to the way his name fell off of her lips and feeling her tug on his curls. “Look what you did to me, babygirl.” He chuckled sheepishly and pulled his sweats down to reveal his grey boxers. A dark spot was prominent on the front of them.

“Fuck, that’s really hot.” She smiled, eyelids half-closed, sleep fighting to overcome her.

“Ah ah, no sleep yet, honey. Go use the bathroom first, no UTI’s for you.”

“God, you’re such a good boyfriend.” She smiled, cupping his cheek, which was soaked in her own arousal. “Come with me and I’ll clean off your face for you. And your dick.” (Y/n) giggled, grabbing him a clean pair of boxers and herself one of Emmett’s smallest t-shirts, which (of course) she was still swimming in. She took his hand and dragged him into the bathroom, where she pressed herself into his bare chest and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Look in the mirror, we look hot as hell.” His big hands slid down her back to squeeze her ass, making her laugh.

“We sure do.” He gave her a dirty kiss and slid his shirt over her body, removing his sweats and underwear as she went to go pee. Emmett used a cloth to first clean his face. Before he could reach for his cock to wipe it off, his girlfriend rushed over and sunk to her knees in front of him. Her doe eyes never left his as she sucked the cum off of his member, leaving it spotless. Emmett’s jaw dropped and he had to fight in order to not get hard again. (Y/n) tugged the boxers from his hand and tapped his ankles, asking him to step into them. She pulled them up and dropped the band low on his waist, dragging her hands up his chest before she kissed him.

“I fucking love you.” Emmett said, carrying her off to bed.

“I fucking love you more.”

[avasghost]

When We Drown Update #1

wip intro here.

DISCLAIMER: this is my original work. please do not plagiarize in any way.

hello!! i’m back with the first when we drown update!

so. i’m around 8000 words into the draft. i started writing on february 15, and its currently march 20, so its already been over a month which is ... wild. time flies when ur having fun kids.

its flowed a lot smoother than crane anatomy so far. i’m really enjoying the process, since i’m not trying that hard to make it good?? i didn’t know i was capable of “not trying to make it good” but maybe i am 👀

the writing style is very different from crane anatomy. CA is very flowery, but the prose in WWD is a lot plainer. i really like both prose styles, which is why it’s nice to be able to alternate between them when i feel like writing in one and not the other.

i used to get these random line ideas when i was only writing crane anatomy, but they didn’t fit the prose of that book. i’ve realized that those lines fit perfectly into the style of this book so yay my children found a home <3

excerpts under the cut.

chapter 1: the lighthouse

the story opens on a lighthouse on new years eve, 1999. this was an image that popped in my head while i was brainstorming and i decided to jump in and start writing because i was Intrigued. it’s a snowy night, and a woman and her four-year-old son (elias) are on the run from other members of the cult she is part of. we see her finally picking up the courage to run away, because unfortunately in this cult leaving isn’t allowed and they want to kill her. this is why she’s so depressed all the time because :) cult trauma :) they escape from their pursuers by hiding in the lantern room of a lighthouse, and then the woman gives birth to a daughter, the protagonist. her brother, elias, is referred to as “you”, and even though she wasn’t born yet, april narrates this scene because she’s been told the story so many times that she thinks of it almost like a memory, sometimes she wonders if she actually does remember it slightly.

the first line:

The first time I met you was on the lighthouse. It was the midwinter of 1999, new years eve, five p.m., already dark. I wasn’t born yet.

i quite like this opening! every opening i’ve written for the last four books has been good so that’s good

anyway here’s some night ocean and moon imagery:

The black ocean dilated in a gauzy breeze far below, waves ruffling like crow’s feathers. The distant sloshing drowned out some of the noise of the men’s boots clattering on the stairs. A cloud slipped in front of the moon, puddling its glow.

then the woman and elias hide under some tarps in the lantern room and the men who are hunting them come and look for them and somehow don’t find them which is completely unrealistic but :) if they got found april would never be born so :) that wouldn’t work would it :)

and then the men leave and april is born in the lantern room which was the most aesthetic birth i could think of okay. i had to. also the new years fireworks start going off:

We slept in the lantern tower. The beam that guided sailors lanced over our heads, a pinprick you hardly noticed. The fireworks all burst at once – a blur of  orange, green and blue lights popcorning in the dark. I was tiny, too skinny, I shouldn’t have survived the night, but I did. Mother told me years later that I was the last baby of the 20th century, and that made me lucky.

the irony <3

chapter 2: lacuna

this is a chapter that takes place years later (and covers the first nine years of april’s life) and talks about her awful childhood. her older brother, elias, is her only friend other than two other girls (Elena and Magnolia). lets just say her life is terrible and i’m v happy i’m not her!

Mother always said I looked like her, and you looked like our father. I never thought so, even though I’d never seen pictures of him. Mother never showed us any. I couldn’t bring myself to associate you with him. From what I’d heard of father, you and him were opposites, different entities, born in different worlds and buried in different graveyards.

and their mother tells the story of april’s birth so often that april thinks of it as a memory, which is why she was able to narrate it:

She retold the story of my birth so frequently that every detail was visceral in my mind: the snow sparkling in juts of moonlight, a lonely rowboat almost invisible in the dark sea, the footsteps thudding along the passage, fireworks sparking in the sky and lighting the night on fire.

chapter 3: found and lost

in chapter three, ten-year-old april and fourteen-year-old elias play hide and seek and april fails to find elias. he is unfortunately never seen again.

the first line of the chapter:

There was a stretch of time when life was at its fullest, even if, for me, that meant half-empty. Ten years old, you were fourteen. Still friends, we didn’t share the usual sibling rivalry. It was midwinter, four days before my birthday. Ice glossed the branches of the spindly elm trees that studded our quiet street, scabbed the pavement so it was hard to walk.

yes i know this is set in BC and it doesn’t snow that much here but the aesthetic was too perfect so this is apparently an alternate BC where it snows a lot <3

another brief lighthouse description:

The lighthouse was a pinnacle that made an incision in the sky, clouds spiralled around it. Close enough to walk, too far to see in detail. Its lonely beam jittered over the water, even in broad daylight.

april counts and then goes to look for elias

Snow crinkled in my mittens, numbed my fingers so I could hardly move them. Rice-paper clouds obscured most of the sun, so the light that dribbled through was watery and lukewarm.

but she can’t find him

I searched every corner of the forest, every backyard of every stranger, I searched the lighthouse where I was born, I searched the rim of the ocean, which churned like a flame, licking the sand, eating it, spitting it out. The world snowglobed around me, disorientating every thought and movement. No birds, no beasts, no you. In that frozen world I was alone. The sky melted into a deep Aegean blue, and the stars winked like exit wounds, every tear an ocean, every finger an ice cap. Tears shuddered down my cheeks. They shattered on the icy pavement as I walked home, hoping you would hop out from behind a tree, a house. Maybe you were already home, maybe this was all a joke.

and time passes and they still can’t find him

Everyone said you must have drowned, even though they searched the ocean floor for days and never found your body. Maybe it had already drifted beyond our reach, they said. Maybe you were eaten by something, and your remains coated the mouth of some sea monster long assumed to be extinct.

at the end of chapter three, there’s a scene break that flashes forward to when april is fourteen, walking along the beach in a mist, and she sees elias’s ghost for the first time, and is momentarily convinced that he’s still alive, just like she thought.

It was almost unnoticeable, the way you popped up. A face in my peripheral, probably just a memory in the corner of my mind. But when I looked, you were there: a pearly mist with a face, eyes, a mouth. You breathed daylight, basked in fog like a natural habitat. I stared, unsure of what you were, where you were. Was this it? Had I been right all along? You were here, drifting in front of me, disembodied but still very much alive.

chapter 4: gooseberries

short flashback chapter! i wrote this entire chapter in about half an hour. its only 700 words, but i’m a very slow writer and that’s a lot of words for me to write in such a short time. also this chapter helped me realize that i want to write this book non-linearly! i love non-linear books and i think its a perfect form for this book!

the flashback goes to when april is still a baby (i know she shouldn’t be able to remember this but? she just does okay) and their mother takes her and elias to the woods and they hide in the roots of this tree while she goes and gets stuff for them to eat: gooseberries and pine needles (had to look up an article about edible wilderness food). april chokes on a gooseberry and elias helps her, which creates trust, and distrust of the mother because she didn’t try to help at all. thats it thats the chapter. not entirely happy with this, it needs a lot of work, but i think its still necessary to keep in the book for now.

She left, and like a mother bird, found food and brought back heaps of veiny gooseberries, her pockets stuffed with red pine needles, which she knew were edible from a wilderness survival course she took in high school. I had no teeth back then, the craggy flesh of my gums wasn’t enough to chew berries or pine needles, my throat too frail to swallow.

that’s all i have for this update! i know i said in the wip intro that there wouldn’t be updates very often, but i think the next WWD update will be soon because i’m really in flow atm!

- Ava

Taglist (please ask to be added or removed!) : @shaelinwrites​​ @august-iswriting​​ @wildswrites​ @nodeadnarrators​ @annlillyjose​ @shaonharryandpannisim​ @letsgetsquiggly​ @strangerays​ @mel-writes-with-her-dragons​  @chloeswords​ @teaandtypewriters​​

[witcheswritings]

Rest in me

Summary: (Modern!AU) In the aftermath of a terrible accident, Hinata and Sakura struggle to start anew. 

Lenght: 3098 words 

Author: CireneMQ (Nohara-Cirene)

Translator: Rainbow.feathers (Rainbowfeather)

Fandom: Naruto

Relationships: Sakura Haruno/Hinata Hyuuga

Warnings: Descriptions of severe injury, descriptions of recovery. 

Disclaimer: This fanfiction was written as a commission for the very creative @wombatking who was kind enough to prompt us this beautiful idea! If you want to commission us anything don’t be afraid to ask!

September and the leaves lose their color by fall. In a tenuous way, as, little by little, the greenery gives way to ocher tones.

Intricate parallelism with reality that is not yet assimilated; the irrecoverable loss of everyday life and the illusions that take rot like leaves on the ground. Compost for pain, distant hopes that try to sustain the impending collapse of the will.

And the juxtaposition of effort and resentment, of resignation and denial.

Sakura leaves the hospital, withdraws from the care and the smell of antiseptic that for three months have kept her in a different world and now they’re part of a bubble that no longer exists. She returns to the real world with that involuntary feeling that she is living in a very long nightmare, but that sooner or later it will end.

During her recovery, she repeated herself that although it was all bullshit, life would be lighter when she finally returned home. She missed the fresh air, the school, her friends and Hinata.

Yes, her girlfriend had done almost the impossible to stay by her side.

During her stay in the hospital there was not a single day where she did not visit her, even with the pressure that Hiashi exerted on the schedule and mandatory activities for his first-born. Sakura, aware of the peculiar family situation, kept repeating to herself about how lucky she was to have her. There was nothing she could ask for that Hinata hadn't done for her. For that reason, seeing her waiting in front of the door was not at all surprising.

Hinata was there, with the kindest smile in the world and affection coming out of her pores..., and everything that Sakura anticipated that she would feel, the happiness of being free, of returning to "everyday life" with her, turned to bile in her throat; life was not lighter, the nightmare was not going to end.

She tried to smile, but the joy didn't reach her green eyes. Hinata understood instantly, trying to dilute her sadness in the subtle touch of her lips, a moment of tangible calm.

“Let's go home, Sakura.”

Suddenly the world turned upside down. Ordinary details became unrecognizable, from the drive home to sinking into the mattress; the air was different, smelled of cracked faith and a chaotic form of suppressed despair.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Well... it's not like I feel anything.” Vinegary smile that Hinata sweetened with the warmth of her own.

She arranged cushions behind her back, taking special care not to move her abruptly. Sakura gritted her teeth, annoyance stemming from the boredom of being treated with the fragility of a dry leaf, yet she said nothing. It was the truth, the plainly crude and revolting true.

The time, when "Sakura! Sakura!" was chanted by those who attend the soccer games and the adrenaline of scoring a goal ran through her blood, would never return. She was a brittle leaf under the sole of a world that was hers, but that no longer recognized her as someone capable of setting the pace.

Still in grief, she held Hinata's gaze and invoked the iron of her own character; she couldn't give up.

“My mom says the wheelchair they ordered has arrived. I'd like you to help me set it up, it'll be fun, don't you think?”

“Of course! Your strong lungs will do a lot...”

The months of hospitalization were filled with "solutions" to her situation, such as the new computer that, based on voice commands, allowed her to communicate with the world in the same way as she did before. Sakura's mother had taken the time to research all the rehabilitation therapies she could, including pseudo-sciences that promised fantastic results. Sakura agreed to practically all of them, even though they were mentally exhausting.

“I plan to go back to school, although I'm not sure how I'll do it. Mom has her doubts, and I don't want to depend on anyone for that.”

Hinata sat on the mattress, tilting her head and giving her a look full of tenderness. She had known her long enough to know that dependency was unthinkable for the usual Sakura, so she preferred not to pull that string. The Hyuga's hand raised to Sakura’s cheekbone to give her a sympathetic caress that said everything that the pink-haired woman did not want to hear in words; namely, compassion.

“Then, we will have to hurry up so you can handle that chair.”

However, things do not always turn out as you imagine them, Sakura would learn this as soon as her inert body was secured by the security straps to the device. What began with the excitement of starting over ended in tears and anger.  

Her lips were dry, and she was annoyed at the failed attempts to get the wheels to obey as Hinata, standing in front of her, urged Sakura to reach her.

“Blow again, Sakura. Remember; a loud puff is forward.”

“I know, I know.”

The lips formed an "o" again and stuck to the bulb. Instantly, the girl released the air forcefully and the wheels began to move, but again drew back as she took a breath before withdrawing completely.

“You have to inhale when you have already removed the mouth from the bulb, otherwise the reader interprets it as you want to go backwards.”

Her jaw was trembling. She had already memorized the theoretical instructions, but putting them into practice was something totally different, something Hinata couldn't understand as much as she wanted to. Sakura clenched her eyelids wanting to calm down, until the sweet voice of her girlfriend pierced her eardrum with the annoyance of a bell.

“Let's see again what the manual says...”

“I already know the fucking manual, Hinata!”

The girl's eyes widened, and she recoiled from her girlfriend's outburst. The anger was evident and even understandable. Sakura Haruno, the one who was a star and was always going a thousand an hour, tied to a chair and without the immediate patience to assimilate it. Hinata looked down and fiddled with her fingers.

“I'm sorry… it wasn't my intention.”

“It’d be better if you go home, I’ve had enough of feeling useless ... For today.”

“I’m really sorry, I…”

“Please, Hinata.”

Although what Sakura said sounded more like an order than to a request, Hinata did not add anything, except for the goodbye kiss that her girlfriend received coldly.

That same cold ended up keeping the girl awake until dawn, but it was the debacle in conjugated tears that each one kept in their respective beds, which encouraged them to do something for the other.

Sakura to apologize for her attitude, Hinata to change her empathy for the love that covers everything, even if she doesn't understand it.

With their hearts set on each other, they recalled the tragic events that led them to end this way.

********************* ********************* ********************* *********************

********************* ********************* ********************* *********************

The darkness was beginning to beat the light. It was getting dark, but visibility still revealed the silhouette of two girls playing next to the pier. Sakura and Hinata, with joviality and tenderness on the cusp of falling in love at their short sixteen, sitting with their feet in the water.

“I will do it! I'll swim to the rock and show you that I could also be the star of the diving team; I don't care what Ino says.”

In between stolen kisses from Sakura and laughter that was heard alongside the first crickets. Hinata was smiling softly, enjoying her girlfriend’s energy that used to fill her with warmth.

“You don't have to prove anything to me, plus you already know Ino.”

Sakura stood up, letting go of her girlfriend's hand. Her will and the desire to feel the adrenaline that conquering every challenge left her, led her to jump into the water and submerge to start swimming to the huge rock that was on the other side.

Hinata looked at her, while she shook her head at the audacity she manifested in everything. That was one of the things that made her fall in love with Sakura; the freedom she lived with. It was a pleasure just to watch her exist, an extreme fascination that the Hyuga couldn't ignore, just like that moment.

The mauve eyes watched her girlfriend's head come out every so often to take a breath, while the distance between them grew. At last, Sakura touched the rock with her hands and instantly turned to look at Hinata and smile at her. The damp feet began to help her climb slowly, making sure twice to hold on firmly to some protrusion and fitting her feet in every nook and cranny.

The effort ended when she was able to sit on the rock and then pull herself up until she was standing on it. Hinata narrowed her eyes, barely appreciating the movement in which Sakura blew her a kiss with her hands and lowered herself to jump.

Sakura, for her part, watched the dark water and her mind made quick calculations of how far she would have to push herself in order to rid herself of the bulging rocks looming below. It was at least five meters high, and the race would have to be sped up to go far enough and land at the proper depth.

She stepped back again, counting back five steps. Good thing the rock was big enough, otherwise no one would have the courage to run and jump, as she was about to do.

3, 2, 1…

The initial impulse was good, Sakura perceived it the same as when she started to run from three quarters of the field towards the goal. It was going from zero to one hundred in just a fraction, but she was more than used to that lift off. The floor was about to run out and with that she prepared to bend her knees a little and take as much momentum as possible in the last two steps.

However, when the right leg leaned against the edge of the rock, the moisture left by herself before, betrayed her in the most brutal way possible.

The foot slipped. Sakura's momentum was nullified and she violently rushed down. The worst of the case is that she already had her center of gravity positioned forward, just a fraction of a second before she slipped. The inertia did its job, Sakura fell headfirst into the water, while the last rays of sunlight allowed Hinata to watch the crash.

Hiashi's daughter's scream occurred as she threw herself into the water to go after her girlfriend. She was never the best at athletics, but this time she didn't give up. Her arms worked their way through the water, swallowing some liquid that she ignored in her desperation to advance.

When she finally arrived, Sakura was sunk beside the rocks, inert as a scandalous amount of blood swirled around them in the scariest landscape she had ever witnessed. She took her in her arms and dragged her so that her head could be in the open air, then she gave her the kiss of life and luckily, the pink haired girl responded promptly. However, what gave her some peace soon turned into a different nightmare.

“I can’t move,”

Hinata's screams overshadowed the crickets, the sound of running water, and the music of some friends who were also enjoying the first party of the summer. Immediately, several approached the lake in order to respond to her call for help.

The next thing Hinata could remember would be the blue and red lights and the sirens that beat her intermittent crying. Paramedics who with a grimace, revealed the terrible state of her girlfriend. Upon arriving at the hospital and after the respective medical tests, Mr. and Mrs. Haruno received the sad news.

X-rays and the subsequent tomographies as well as complementary resonances that confirmed what the doctors had already anticipated: Severe neck injury.

Fourth and fifth vertebrae fractured, with oppression to the spinal cord and consequent injury to it. Loss of mobility and sensation from the neck down, on top of what all of it entailed; paralysis.

The collapse of illusions and dreams. The severed wings of the young woman and the despair and fears that came with it... In addition, guilt on Hinata, the same guilt that brought her down in the hospital corridor when her girlfriend's mother explained the situation to her.

The debacle of a newly blossomed button and the broken heart of whoever witnessed it right before their eyes.

********************* ********************* ********************* *********************

********************* ********************* ********************* *********************

With the rays of the sun lighting up the sky, Hyuga left the comfort of the sheets to gain ground on all the tasks that her father overloaded on her shoulders.

She fulfilled this, yearning to make Hiashi change his mind and give her dreams a chance. The same dreams that, with what happened with Sakura, took on greater strength and filled her psyche with decision.

Hinata would be a nurse, she’d take care of people's lives with her characteristic tenderness, but she would spice up her courage with the strength that her girlfriend showed... And she would start immediately.

She changed her clothes to more decent ones and descended the stairs with renewed will. The sleepless night and the memories strengthened her walk and she tried to stay that way.

In no time, she was, once again in front of the Haruno's front door and they let her in with their usual kindness. If they had anything to be grateful for, it was the time and heartfelt support she provided for their daughter.  

Hinata knocked on the door of her girlfriend's room and the characteristic "come in" didn't wait, nor did she have to say anything before Sakura spit out the same thing that hadn't let her sleep the night before.

“Before you say anything, I need you to forgive me. Yesterday I was..., it's no excuse, but...”

“You don't have to say anything, I'm sorry to pressure you like that.”

“No, Hinata, listen to me...”

“I don't want to hear it. Just tell me what clothes do you want to wear, let's go out.”

Sakura frowned. Although she understood what was coming out of Hinata's mouth, she couldn’t digest the intention behind it, nor that firmness in her voice, something completely out of the ordinary in her.

“Go out? Where?”

“On a date.”

With more love than Sakura thought she deserved, Hinata took time to help her get dressed. As they did so, she kept talking about the activities she had planned to do together at school. Sakura's green eyes scrutinized her girlfriend's movements and expressions, her throat tightened in a knot and the feelings that threatened to break out of her orbs, condensed into tears.

Gritting her teeth, she drowned out the tears and blamed the sunlight for crystallizing her eyes. Hinata smiled, she knew she was hiding behind a lie, but she wasn't going to dig; she wasn't going to expose her.

“Alright, dear. Let's go!”

Ten minutes later, they were walking down the sidewalk on their way to the park. It was the first time that Sakura had transcended the world from her wheelchair and that filled her with an inhospitable vulnerability.

She barely spoke, the silence was filled by the banal comments of the other, in addition to the noise of the cars moving down the street.

The habit of going for an ice cream before taking a seat on their favorite bench, was a routine that both maintained as something sacrosanct, and this time would be no exception.

Hinata asked for two cones, the same flavors as always, the vendor handed them to her while looking curiously at Sakura in the chair. Hinata caught that and directed him her sharpest gaze, intimidating him with the hostility he perceived in her.  

She paid and turned around, suppressing the kindness that characterized her in order to teach a lesson to the vendor who was watching Sakura with that rude curiosity. But when she got to her, she realized that it would be difficult to maneuver with two ice cream cones and at the same time push the chair.

Sakura looked away, not wanting to see her struggle accommodating both ice creams in one hand and taking her to their bench with the other. Feeling humiliated, she endured the grief of the situation until they were both face to face; Hinata on the bench, Sakura tied to her hopelessness.

“Do you want to try mine?”

In a simple question, the pink haired girl broke down. She was not even able to eat a little ice cream on her own, something so easy and absurd became impossible in her situation and that was only the watershed for everything else that would come; school, life… Bullying.

People like the ice cream vendor, who were used to seeing her energetic and unstoppable, now looked at her like a freak. Sakura's sob could no longer be contained and Hinata could see in the foreground the cry of defeat and doom that split her girlfriend in half.

In another time, she wouldn’t have thought of having the emotional strength to give a word of comfort to anyone, she’d always considered herself as a nerd without charm, a crying girl who depended on everyone; weak, invisible. But since Sakura came into her life, her perspective on herself had taken a momentous turn. That pink-haired girl, with beautiful green eyes, had supported her when needed and taught her every day how valuable she was.

Hinata could never put into words her love for her or her gratitude for everything.

Sakura had built bridges of steel in between Hinata and her inaccessible willpower. It supported her in the fight for her dreams and diluted the negative feelings that stemmed from her father's continued disapproval.

Rising from the bench, she reached for one of the wildflowers growing in the grass. She knew she couldn't ease the pain, but at least she would try to give back a little of everything Sakura had given her. Hinata squatted in front of Sakura, filling her eyes and her smile with love trying to lighten the situation.

“It's going to be difficult, but I'm not going to leave you. I love you.”

With the utmost delicacy in the world, she brushed the cheeks bathed in tears, tracing the path of the salted drops that now trickled like a spring. Sakura paused at the feeling, stunned by her girlfriend's actions.

“Go ahead and get it out. I will hold you, you can rest in me.”

[se0kie]

kimchi helps the heart heal– myg (m)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst, smut, lil dash of fluff

bestfriend!yoongi, unrequited love, f2l

this is for @ficswithluv​‘s luv library project, do check out the other fics they are absolutely amazing and I had such a fun time with the other authors :) 

warnings: angst, unhealthy eating habits, no eating d*sorders but reader is super careless about her diet so if it’s potentially triggering pls be careful!!, dirty talk, vanilla smut really, sliiiightly rough, little to no foreplay (yikes sorry) unprotected sex but reader is on contraception (wrap ur dingdongs)

summary: being dumped weeks before valentine’s day is not the best feeling. sulking and chocolates are the only obvious medication. but your best friend is set on fixing you up and showing you how much more you truly deserve. innocent kimchi jiggae dates or are there deeper feelings behind your and min yoongi’s weekly meals?

Life is pain. Love is a lie.

There’s no way in hell Rose loved Jack, that bitch just let her man drown. That’s what people do, pretend to love you and then throw you away like some used gum.

Man I hate Eunwoo.

I’m hungry. Should I order? When was the last time I ate something from other than out a takeout box?

These were just some of the thoughts running through your mind. You had just been dumped by your boyfriend and to say the least, you were not taking it well.

You were excited for your first Valentine’s day with an actual valentine, you had been looking at options of restaurants to go to when your then boyfriend Eunwoo abruptly let you know that he in fact did not want to stay together.

No explanations, no excuses, not even breakup sex. You were annoyed and shocked to the point that he left your house and you couldn’t get a single word out in protest. 

You may not have been as upset about losing a boyfriend than you were at the fact that you couldn’t give him a piece of your mind, even angrier because yet again another romantic holiday would pass you by and you would be utterly alone.

Sad.

Pathetic and sad.

You didn’t know why you were so affected by the incident, it wasn’t like you were in love with Eunwoo, yeah sure he was cute, sure he had the body of an angel.

But the only reason you had even started dating him was because... well that didn’t matter right then.

You had fallen into a routine. Waking up at 1 in the afternoon, ordering some or the other greasy, unhealthy food from the large collections of takeout places in your neighbourhood, watching terrible romcoms and ignoring your friends.

They had made multiple attempts at trying to reach you and get you out of your hobbit hole but you tried your damnedest to not give in and suffice to say you had succeeded.

You were caught in one of your usual blank periods of contemplating what was so wrong with you that all your relationships failed, why you couldn’t just satisfy anyone you dated and what the hell would you order for dinner tonight?! You were leaning towards fried chicken and cheese when the bell rang and you were whisked out of your reverie.

You got up from your seat and peeked through the hole in the door.

Somebody was standing outside with bags and bags of groceries, to the point that you couldn’t see their face behind the brown paper bags they were carrying.

You opened the door and without waiting for a word from you the figure rushed into your home and then into your kitchen.

You let out a squeal of shock and followed the intruder, angry and ready to put your second grade karate lessons to the test. But before you could go ahead you heard the man speak, it was a voice you knew more than your own, your best friend since middle school Min Yoongi.

“What the hell Yoongi?! You can’t just barge into my house.” You were furious. Not really, cause it was your closest friend but still you were annoyed and you had been known to be a drama queen of sorts for all your life.

“No Y/N, don’t you ‘what the hell Yoongi’ me. What is wrong with you? Where have you even been?! D’you have any idea how worried we’ve been?! How worried I’ve been??! All I knew was that Eunwoo said something and then left.” 

Yoongi was going off at you and all you could do was stand there and listen to him, after all you knew you were in the wrong, Yoongi was the one person you always stayed in touch with and not speaking to him for a whole week is a never before happened situation. You sighed as he continued with no sign of stopping, “I didn’t know if you were alive, if you died, what Eunwoo did. If he had abducted you and killed you? You’re not replying to your texts or taking any calls, I even emailed you! You have any idea how desperate someone is when they fucking email as a form of communication??!” He finally stopped to gasp for breath after his long ass speech, seeing as you at least had the decency to look sheepish he chose not to continue his tirade and you were grateful for it. Yoongi had a serious parentlike reaction to mistakes and you always felt like you were 5 again being chided by your mom.

Taking his silence as an opportunity you started, “Look I know I was wrong to ignore you but I just needed some time to myself okay? Eunwoo dumped me.” 

Your voice was small and Yoongi felt the sudden need to wrap you in his arms and hold you for hours, comfort you and give you the love you needed. But he knew he shouldn’t test his boundaries so instead he made a little noise in his throat as if to brush away all the explanations he knew you were about to give. He chose to instead divert the topic and make the atmosphere lighthearted , “Whatever, we don’t need to talk about it right now. Anyways I know you’ve probably been eating shitty food and neglecting your health—” You were about to protest when Yoongi had cut you off. “Do not try to deny it Y/N I know you like the back of my hand” 

He really did know you like the back of his hand.

He continued, “I’ve brought groceries, some veggies and fruits and I’m gonna make you dinner for the next few days okay?” You nodded in agreement. This wasn’t new for you. There had been times when you looked for comfort in unhealthy food and habits and your best friend had come to your rescue to nurture you back to normalcy, besides, Yoongi was an amazing cook and even you were getting tired of the greasy pizzas and pints of ice cream. You knew your body needed Yoongi’s cooking to recover from your junk food spree.

Not waiting for any further conversation, Yoongi went back to the kitchen and you could hear him rustling around pulling out ingredients for dinner. You went to see him and poked your head from the side of the doorway into the kitchen, exactly like you used to when your mom would cook dinner when you were a child. He was cutting pieces of chicken into little cubes and his face had the cutest little look of determination. You couldn’t help but coo internally at how sweet he was being. He was bobbing around soaking noodles in water and mixing sauces together, he looked so domestic and it suddenly hit you just how much he cared about you. Unlike anyone else ever had.

 “What are you making for dinner?”

 “Kimchi jiggae and chicken stir fry. Is that alright or do you want something else?” You hummed in agreement.

Your tastebuds salivated at the thought of it, Yoongi’s chicken stir fry was something you had been eating for years and it only tasted better each time you tried it.

You felt warmth flood at the sight of your friend taking care of you, “Hey Yoongi.”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“Thanks for caring about me.” You said with a small smile.

Yoongi smiled with a little sigh. You knew it was enough reciprocation.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence though he chimed up, “Hey Y/N why don’t you go take a shower while I get dinner ready? You stink.” 

You scoffed at his statement but you knew your hair was greasy and your body had been subjected to a whole week of sad eating. It was time to get your shit together. So you obediently went to take a much needed shower, letting the warm water roll over you and release the tension from your back and shoulders. You had lost count of how long you had been under the water when you noticed your fingers beginning to prune.

You got ready and left with restless steps towards the kitchen, which was now smelling deliciously of soy sauce and chicken. The dinner table had been laid with plates and heaps and heaps of delectable dishes. Kimchi jiggae, some japchae, chicken stir fry and rice. You sat down opposite Yoongi and mumbled a thank you before digging in. 

Yoongi looked at you fondly as you ate. He hated when you retreated away from him during times you truly needed a friend, he always wanted to be there for you but it was hard when your first instinct was to isolate yourself and drown in junk food. He ate silently with you, chuckling every now and then at your squishy cheeks full with noodles.

After you were both done and the dirty dishes had been cleaned the two of you sat down on your couch, Yoongi insisting on having a talk that was long overdue. He sighed, “Tell me what happened between you and Eunwoo, Y/N.” You looked at him with wide eyes. It’s not like you would hide it from him but the truth is you were embarrassed of what had gone down. “Eunwoo dumped me. There’s not much to it. We were sitting on the couch having a normal evening when he just randomly tells me he doesn’t love me. That he couldn’t be with me knowing that our relationship would go nowhere.” You said with a sad smile. Its not like you were deep in love with him either, but you were excited about being with him. It was your first real relationship as an adult and you were looking forward to being cheesy and going on Valentine’s day dates. What a waste.

Yoongi gave a sigh of understanding, moving quickly to your side and wrapping his arms around your shoulder, pulling your back to his chest. He murmured into your ear, “Oh Y/N, you should’ve told me. I would’ve come over as soon as possible, you had to go through that all alone. Oh sweetie I’m so sorry. He’s an asshole.” You chuckled dryly, “Well I’m more disappointed about the fact that I’ll once again be alone on the wretched day. Can’t believe my one chance at Valentine’s day roses and chocolates is over.” Yoongi scoffed at your bluntness, “It’s okay I’ll be there with you on Valentine’s. Who needs relationships when you can have a best friend, right?” You nodded slowly at his words, basking in his familiar warmth. 

You were grateful Yoongi had barged into your home, that he had taken the first step and extended his arms towards you. You needed him, you truly did... but you were just too scared to reach out.

It had been a solid week of Yoongi coming over to your home and spending the evenings with you, cooking dinner and then watching trashy movies together. Your house had been smelling deliciously all week, Yoongi had been thoroughly pampering you, with his food and attention, suffice to say your ego along with your stomach were well fed. You and your best friend had fallen into a weird rythm together. He would always show up to your house in the evenings, cook dinner that left you fantasizing about it well after it was eaten and watch movies with you that would obviously be ignored so that you could gossip like you used to when you were kids.

You could also feel yourself slowly slip into the feelings you had before you got with your ex. You had always had a massive crush on Yoongi. He was your senior in school who had taken you under his wing, the two outcasts of Daegu High, it had always been you and him. But you knew that your friendship and bond with Yoongi outweighed your otherwise romantic feelings and you learned to ignore them whenever you were around him, so every single waking moment.

You were getting carried away with your thoughts when you heard the usual ring of the doorbell, you got up from your seat at the couch and opened the door to a red cheeked Yoongi, walking into your home to escape the cold. Not wasting time on pleasantries, that’s just how you two were, he removed his coat and went to the kitchen that now felt more like his than yours. 

“I was thinking we could have some steak tonight, huh Y/N? Feels like a steaks and potatoes kinda night, doesn’t it?” 

You could hear Yoongi’s voice amidst the clanging of pots and pans, you replied, “Yeah I could go for steak. I have some really great wine too,” walking into the kitchen to show him your treasure, “I got it from Eunwoo’s friend when they came over for dinner this one time.” 

You gazed at the dark sheen of the bottle. Eunwoo was useless but at least his friend was still helping you days after your breakup. 

Yoongi nodded, “Yeah sure, as long as you don’t get a wine headache and beg me to massage your head.” You feigned annoyance, “Min Yoongi! How dare you?! You’re the one who gets wine headaches, not me. Do not accuse me of things I’m not guilty of.” Yoongi laughed at your antics, gummy smile on display. You could feel your heart skip a beat at the way his face glowed, it was a feeling you hadn’t felt in a very long time.

And just before you could turn on the full fangirl mode, Yoongi cleared his throat and said, “Help me with the potatoes now, we’ll get done faster if you put your ass to work Y/L/N.” You gave him a dirty look and set out to find the potatoes and peel them.

You found the ingredients you needed for the mashed potatoes and started peeling the skin off while observing your friend spearing the cuts of meat and rubbing them with seasoning. You had always admired how great he was with food, he never cooked for just anyone. You had to be special, someone who Yoongi truly cared about, for him to cook for you. And that’s why you loved it so much that he was always making you something or the other to eat and munch on. It seemed like you mattered to him, like you were someone worthwhile of knowing and being friends with. Surprisingly, it was a feeling you weren’t well acquainted with. 

Not wanting to think about depressing things during such a sweet moment you instead chose to focus on how Yoongi caught his tongue between his teeth while handling the meat, how he peeled the garlic and seared the steaks in the oil. His face had a look of utter concentration and you were sent back to being 13 and making papier-mâché volcanoes for your eighth grade project with Yoongi. Some things never changed.

Having deemed you useless in the kitchen Yoongi banished you to the living room after you accidentally sprinkled sugar into the potatoes instead of salt, his exact words were “Y/N you are a hazard to our dinner, please leave and let me be.”

Not like you were hurt or anything, pssh.

You watched a show on Netflix while waiting for Yoongi to finish up which was thankfully not very long. You set the dinner table with the cutlery as he served the steaks and potatoes, a delicious smell wafting from your plates. You cut a piece of the meat, seared on the outside and perfectly pink in the middle. You moaned at the taste of the garlic and beef as it spread through your tastebuds. 

Yoongi asked as he watched you, “You like it?” 

“Mmhmm.” You could only hum as you savoured the flavours, an enthusiastic nod confirming your feelings. A small smile made its way to his face as he felt his ego swell at the blissed out look of appreciation on yours. The two of you ate in comfortable silence punctuated with mindless remarks here and there and random questions thrown in. It would have been awkward for anyone else, anyone else but you and Yoongi.

Yoongi swallowed his morsel before saying, “You know Y/N I never really liked Eunwoo. Ever since I met him I always had a bad feeling about him.” 

You set down your fork at having finished your meal and asked, “Seriously? I didn’t know that I just thought you didn’t want to get too involved in our relationship.” You gave a sigh of realisation. This was news to you. Yoongi continued, “No, yeah I didn’t like him at all. He was always so shady, too nice to people’s faces I didn’t think he was genuine at all.”

“Wow, well you know I can understand. He was sort of an asshole. He was always nice to people but he rarely ever said nice things about them when they weren’t around.” You continued, “Guess I got lucky then, huh?” “Yes definitely. You’re too good for that snake.”

“But still it would’ve been nice to have him as my valentine. He might’ve been a reptile but he had a reaaaaally long–” 

“Y/N!! Shut up! I don’t wanna know!!” he squealed.

 You laughed at Yoongi’s horrified expression. It was so easy to rile him up you couldn’t resist it.

“Jeez loosen up grandpa. No, but really I hate being dumped, especially when the dumper is so ruthlessly gorgeous. Ugh.” You sighed. Life was cruel to you, it was decided, you were sure.

Another moment of silence ensued. You glanced at Yoongi and caught him already looking at you. Big brown eyes boring into yours. You were reminded of all the times you had sat across from him like this. You didn’t know what came over you but you found yourself suddenly saying, “Hey Yoongs, you wanna know a secret?” Yoongi hummed in response. A nod followed.

“I used to like you before I dated Eunwoo.”

A pin could have dropped and you would’ve heard it, it was that quiet. Yoongi just continued to look at you, a peculiar expression on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. Something bordering on frustration and hesitance. “Oh...” All you could do was glance at him and your fingers on the table.

After a moment of mulling over it, he said, “Why are you telling me this? You’re not kidding, are you Y/N? Cause this would be a really cruel joke.”

“No! Of course not! I’m not messing around, I promise. I really don’t know why I said that I’m so sor—”

But before you could get another word out of your mouth his face smoothed over. “Thanks for the lovely evening Y/N but I think I need some time alone. I’ll see you tomorrow.” he said with a sad smile. He gathered his things from the seat beside him, and then he got up and left.

To tell the truth, you were not expecting to be greeted by Yoongi’s face at your door the next day. You thought you had messed up your friendship for good. Or at least for a few weeks. So suffice to say you were thoroughly surprised to see Yoongi once again barge into your house without an invite and carrying on preparing tteokbokki and samgyeopsal for dinner.

Silence reigned for minutes as you gathered enough courage to face him in the kitchen. You walked into the tiny space of the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, waiting for him to speak his mind. You were just about to start when he cut you off and said, “I’m sorry for last night.”

“Oh- No it’s okay, Yoongi. I know it was a shoc-”

“No it’s really not okay Y/N. You just shared something with me and I obviously blew it out of proportion. I shouldn’t have walked out on you.” He looked at you he said this, sincerity gleaming off his face.

“It’s okay Yoongs, I wasn’t mad. In fact I should’ve kept it to myself.”

“No!” He said suddenly, cheeks reddening at the realisation that he was way too quick to correct you. Sheepishly, he continued, “I’m really glad you told me Y/N. Thank you.”

Although you didn’t entirely know why he was thanking you, you just went along with it. Not wanting to cause further awkwardness you left him as you usually did, bustling around looking for pots and pans while he entered his own little world right there.

Dinner had been amazing, as it always is when Yoongi was cooking. After polishing everything off your plates you and Yoongi were now watching Clueless on your laptop, huddled together to keep the chill out. Yoongi’s arm around your shoulder and yours latched across his waist. 

To an outsider this would seem like an intimate position for a pair of ‘just friends’ to be in but you and Yoongi had always been like this. Affection and skinship weren’t things that were openly (or ever) shown to the both of you when you were children, so it only made sense that the two of you looked to the other as a source of comfort. You were never afraid of being your childish self in front of him. One time he had taken care of you when you were drunk off your ass and although you barely remember that night, Yoongi had made sure to tell you had puked on his new trench coat. If it were anyone else in the world you would be mortified, but it wasn’t anyone. It was your best bud Yoongi.

 Not knowing how to deal with this intense nostalgia and appreciation you resorted to what you always did when you didn’t want to get too emotional.

Pillow fight!!!

You reached for the blue throw cushion to your right and smacked Yoongi square in his face. He blinked, registering what had just happened. And then in a split second he had ripped the pillow out of your clutch and thrown it behind him. His arms flew out to trap your wrists in one of his hands as he yelped, “Hey! What was that for? Usually you notify me before smacking me in the face.” You rolled your eyes at how cheesy he sounded, “I’m boorrrreed Yoongi!” 

“Oh well are you still bored now?” He says as he hits your shoulder with the cushion he had apparently been hiding behind his back the entire time. You squealed at the sudden impact and grabbed a pillow of your own, face scrunched up at the soft blows that you were landing on his platinum blonde head.

While the both of you went at each other with all your might you had somehow ended up on top of Yoongi, hitting his chest with a too small cushion that you knew wouldn’t hurt him. Your legs had slotted around his waist and you were currently sat on his thighs. The warmth from his skin soaking into yours.

Limply the pillow you were holding fell out of your grasp as you and Yoongi breathed heavily, staring into each other’s eyes while trying to catch your breaths. Your eyes scanned his face, brown eyes boring into yours, lips soft but slightly chapped, tantalisingly red like cherries smeared upon them. You felt an overwhelming urge to just lean down and peck him. 

Would he taste as sweet as he looked? Yoongi looked at you as you focused on his lips. Waiting with bated breaths to see if you would do what he ached for you to do. He had always been scared of being the one who approached you, the one who put his feelings out in the open for you to accept or reject. He had instead chosen to let you come to him if you felt similarly, he wanted you to be with him only if your heart said so and not because of any obligation you felt towards him. He wanted you heart, not your calculated decisions.

Right when he thought that maybe he was looking too much into it you bent your head down to his and captured his lips in yours.

You could taste Min Yoongi. Soft, slightly rough from the cold and sweet from his strawberry lip balm. You held your position for a few seconds, scared to move in fear of him not wanting it when you felt something below you. Something hard and poking into your shorts, definitely not the TV remote. Unexpected heat flooded through your stomach at the thought of what you had done to Yoongi. Surely this was your doing, you could feel Yoongi starting to kiss you back when he stopped abruptly. A soft “fucking hell” leaving his lips as his gaze flicked downwards to where your core sat upon his. His eyes flew back to yours, strangely apologetic. If only he knew that you frequently dreamt of being in this exact position.

But the last thing you want is for Yoongi to feel uncomfortable around you so like the good, responsible best friend you are you unmount from his lap and put some safe distance between your bodies.

“Yoongi I am so sorry.” you say softly.

Confusion paints his face, “What? Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know what came over me, I should not have done that. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncom-”

“Y/N fucking stop apologising for a second.”

You clearly looked shocked at this point you were sure of it, you were expecting the sudden change in tone. “Fine, I just...it wasn’t my intention to come at you without any warnings. Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.”

Yoongi scoffed internally at your words, what the hell were you saying? Did you not want to kiss him? Or were you worried about what he would think of you? Because he sure as hell did not want to forget about it, it being something he had spent hours fantasizing about. Yoongi felt sudden irritation fill him, you were still rambling about how you weren’t thinking clearly and it was a mistake. All of which was just contributing further to Yoongi’s annoyance.

“Y/N I think I should leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said simply as he picked up his coat and gave you an unexpected kiss on the forehead. A simple brush of his lips against your skin and you knew you had fucked up. You should’ve just stayed shut and let him speak about whatever he was obviously wanting to say.

 Once again you cursed yourself for your inability to read people’s emotions. The last thing you had wanted was to make Yoongi feel uncomfortable but you had failed to consider the fact that maybe he had wanted to kiss you too. As you heard his footsteps slowly die down into the hallway outside your apartment you let out a groan of frustration at your own thickheadedness and burried your face into the blue pillow in your lap. What were you gonna do with all these damned emotions?

You woke up bright and early the next day, your mood significantly better than it had been the past month. And then you were rudely met with memories of the previous night. Everything flashed past you as you recalled kissing your best friend and the ugly debacle that followed after. You were about to dwell on your stupidity and how naive you had been to think that maybe, just maybe, your friend of more than a decade would somehow return your feelings when your phone rang. You scrambled to find the gadget which had been lodged under your pillow and checked the caller id. It was your colleague Irene. She never really called, preferring to talk over text so you assumed it must be important. Busy conversing with your friend you missed the familiar jangling of the keys at your front door as you made your way into the kitchen to prepare your ritualistic morning cup of coffee.

Unbeknownst to you Yoongi had slipped into your living room, depositing the bags of grocery on the table. He could you hear you giggling in the kitchen and just faintly made out the words you were saying.

“I can’t come Irene, I have...plans.”

A pause, he assumed said Irene was speaking. His brows furrowed as he took in what you had said. Who could you possibly have plans with on Valentine’s? Unless you had struck up a date and hadn’t told him. His heart ached, totally unnecessarily but he was used to it by now.

“I would love to get piss drunk on Valentine’s Irene, trust me, but I have plans with someone and I really can’t ditch.” Another pause and then you were saying, “I mean I don’t really know if it’s a date? We haven’t discussed it yet. But enough about me, you go and have loads of fun for me, okay? I’ll talk to you later, buh-bye!”

He stood near the door, not having moved an inch since he entered.

You were absolutely not prepared to be greeted by Yoongi’s figure as you left the kitchen. You let out a yelp of shock at seeing him. “AGH!! Yoongi?! What the hell? You have got to stop entering my house without a warning, you scared me half to death.”

“Oh stop being so dramatic Y/N I told you I’d come over for breakfast today. And since I know you’re such an early bird I just let myself in instead of waking you up.”

“Oh. Right, of course.”

 After a moment of contemplation you said, “Listen Yoongs, should we, y’know, talk about last night?”

You noticed his eyes widen for a split second and then a mask of composure, smooth and swift, so Yoongi.

“Let’s not. We can discuss it after breakfast, sound okay?”

You hummed in agreement, nodding at his statement.

The both of you stood in the silence. When had things become so awkward between you?

“Hey Y/N?”

You looked at him, telling him to go on.

“I couldn’t help but overhear and uh...are you planning something for Valentine’s Day?”

“Uhh, yes. Duh. You promised to spend it with me, remember?”

Yoongi felt the blood rush to his cheeks, face reddening at the implication of your words. And then those familiar twinges of pain puledl at his heart. He couldn’t bear to keep doing this. Falling back and forth into these weird spaces of loving you and hoping to be with you and then turning back into the mature best friend.

“Y/N I don’t think I can spend Valentine’s with you.”

Your face an image of confusion at his words, “What? Why? Did something happen?” As a new theory dawned on you, “Oh my god, is this about last night? I’m sorry, I really am I shouldn-“

“No! It’s not about that. I just...”

“You just what?”

“I have a date that night. I came to tell you that over breakfast.”

“Bullshit.”

Yoongi’s face easily gave away his lie, he may know you better than yourself but you knew him too. He would never keep something like a date a secret from you.

“Tell me really why you won’t spend Valentine’s with me. It’s about the kiss, isn’t it? See, I knew it, I really am sorry Yoongi. Don’t shut me out because of that I promise it won’t happen ever agai-“

“Damnit Y/N! It’s not about the fucking kiss okay! I loved it. I loved kissing you and that’s exactly where the problem lies. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t love you. I can’t act like maybe, just fucking maybe you want me the same way I want you. So I’m sorry but I can’t spend that damned day with you, Y/N. It kills me to hurt you like this but I need to do this for myself.”

You were speechless. Words rushing through your mind but none settling on your lips. You really needed to practice how to control your mouth when you were shocked, so many troubles could have been prevented if you’d just. fucking. say something.

But of course, fate would have Yoongi walking out on you. Something that he had been doing increasingly since the past few days. And you, dumbstruck, standing in your living room. Mixed feelings of joy, confusion and sadness rendering you voiceless as you stood and watched your best friend, your childhood crush and the person you loved the most step out of the threshold with faint, glistening tears in his eyes.

It had been three days since Yoongi’s outburst/confession. You had texted him non stop, called him at least 50 times and yes, even emailed him. You were that desperate. 

But Yoongi was surprisingly resilient, he had ignored all your advances and completely shut you out. You felt stupid and frustrated and stupid yet again, after a point you lost count of how many times you had kicked yourself for being a brainless jellyfish while your first love walked out on you. After confessing that he loved you too. 

Your life was like the worst romcom with all the comedy and none of the romance. 

You sighed, once again forgetting how many times you’d repeated that action.

Finally after a somewhat convincing pep talk (it wasn’t convincing nor a talk, you had watched Marley & Me and cried thrice and then decided to just fuck it all and go for your crush, but let’s pretend it was a pep talk) you decided to take your chances approaching Yoongi. 

You threw on your most flattering sweatshirt and pyjamas and speed walked to the corner take out store that sold your favourite pork ribs and fried rice, placed your order and then thrummed your fingers agitatedly against the counter for the agonising time period of ten whole minutes.

Take out bags in hand you were feeling quite like the prince in a fairytale out on an adventure to woo his princess. Except you weren’t a prince and the only adventure at your hands was finding a damned taxi ready to take you to Gangnam on freaking Valentine’s evening. Yoongi did fit the part of the brooding young maiden sulking in her tower. Oh gosh you were rambling to yourself, the nerves had truly gotten to you.

Finally a cabbie decided to take you to Yoongi’s neighbourhood, surely alarmed at your expression that looked dangerously close to tears.

You tapped your feet inside the taxi, driving the man in the front seat to madness while he drove you to your soon-to-be beloved’s skyscraper apartment. As you reached your destination you shoved a few bills into the driver’s outstretched hand. You rode up the elevator to Yoongi’s flat and hoped with all your heart that he would be home. If you knew your best friend, and you thought you really did, he would be wearing his brown pyjamas binge watching Friends.

You quickly reached his door and sure enough, you could hear the faint shouts of Ross claiming ‘they were on a break!!’

 You smiled to yourself, and rang the bell. Feeling a strange sense of deja vu, you realised that you were in the same position as Yoongi had been in the past few weeks. Bags in hand, ringing the doorbell to the other’s house in an attempt to reach out after days of no communication. 

With horror setting in you thought, what if he didn’t open the door for you at all? What if he was mad beyond repair and you would be left out there in his hallway as he completely ignored you even after you’d shown up at his front door? You were once again, dangerously close to tears when the door flew open, revealing a suspiciously red-faced red-eyed Yoongi. Had he been crying? You felt your heart crush at the thought. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and hold him close and never leave his side.

But first, explanations.

“Hey Yoongs.”

“Hi Y/N.”

You were expecting him to say something, anything. Scream, shout, ask you why you were here. You were completely unprepared for the silence.

“Uh...can I come in? If you don’t mind?”

“Oh yeah, sure come in.”

He stepped aside to let you into his oddly familiar apartment. You had spent countless days and nights here. It had been way too long since you’d visited you realised as you took in the new furniture arrangement.

“I brought pork ribs.” you said with a weak smile as you raised the now cold bag of take out.

“Thanks. Just put it on the counter.”

You did as he said and sat down on the stool opposing the couch.

You started as he sat facing you on the white couch, “I think we need to talk.”

Yoongi chuckled drily, “Yeah I’d say so.”

“You said your piece, but I didn’t really get a chance to say mine. Is it okay if I speak?”

“Listen Y/N you don’t have to coddle me okay? Just say you don’t like me like that and go, don’t dig at the already salted wound I’m jus-“

“Yoongi shut up for a second, please.” you said firmly, you needed him to just shut up and listen for once.

“You’ve been doing a whole lot of walking out on me, right now I need you to just listen to me, okay?”

Yoongi pursed his lips, and after a few seconds nodded, gesturing at you to continue.

“I’ve liked you ever since we got stuck together as outcasts in high school. I’ve liked you since the first time you got into a fight for me, since you started taking care of me and cooking meals for me. I’m so, so deeply sorry I couldn’t say this to you before. I was so afraid of losing your friendship I just couldn’t bring myself to confess.” You could feel fresh tears sting at your eyes, your gaze trained at your fingers that laid in your lap. Briefly you panned your eyes to Yoongi’s face and you were sure his expression was mirroring yours. With a renewed breath of determination you continued, “But i’m not going to sit by and watch you slip through my fingers anymore. I like you, Yoongi. I like you and love you and want you. So much so that it hurts from the sheer need to have you around me. The only reason I could even think about dating Eunwoo was because I was afraid I couldn’t keep up the facade anymore. I love you and I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”

You breathed, trying to control your uneven heart rate. The muscle pumping like crazy in your chest you were scared he could hear it.

And just like that Yoongi was getting up from his seat and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, his face buried in your hair as you clung to his figure and hid your face in the crook of his neck. He spoke with his voice muffled by your hair, “You won’t believe how relieved I am to hear you say that, my love. I love you, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you so so much.” 

“I love you too, Yoongs.” you murmured into his neck. It felt good to say that, as if the invisible weight you’d been carrying for years as unrequited love had just been lifted.

The two of you stayed like that for minutes, hours, you don’t even know.

But now Yoongi had brought his face down to your neck, nuzzling it with his nose and pecking the sensitive spot at the base of your throat.

You could feel the change in the atmosphere, the air charged with electricity, heat flooding your body as the man in your arms sucked bruises onto the smooth skin of your neck and collarbones.

“Let’s go to my bedroom.” Yoongi rasped, voice husky with need.

You stumbled your way to his room, not wanting to take your hands off each other, Yoongi tearing at your clothes trying to undress you.

You broke away for a second and a whine left his lips in annoyance, you giggled at how needy he sounded. Taking off your top and pants you settled into the fluffy blankets of Yoongi’s bed as he hovered over you. Apparently Yoongi was more dominant than you had thought him to be. He continued lapping at your neck, butterfly kisses at your jaw and rough hands on your hips.

“I’m gonna mark you up, gonna let everyone know you’re mine. You’re mine, aren’t you, angel?” He kissed you again but this time it was with more force and urgency. As if he was afraid of you being a hologram, afraid that you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“Yes, only yours Yoongi.” you gasped as he nipped at the spot below your ear. You felt wetness gush through your sex as his rough, calloused fingers swiped at your slit. Prodding at your leaking hole and giving an experimental rub at your swollen clit. A moan ripped through your throat at the feeling. You had been deprived of sex for way too long, along with your heightened emotions at being with the one you loved you were wetter than you’d ever been. 

And Yoongi knew this. “How are you so wet, angel?” he marvelled at the copious amounts of slick you were producing, his cock standing tall with pride knowing he had done this to you. “Yoongi please, I can’t wait anymore please fuck me.” you pleaded.

“Tsk-tsk Y/N. I need to prepare you first baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m wet enough Yoongi please, I need you so so badly please.” You were sure you looked close to tears, Yoongi looking at you with equal amounts awe, adoration and lust.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I really wanted to taste you before fucking you.”

“We can do that anytime else Yoongi please, please fuck me please!” you would’ve been embarrassed at how whiney you sounded any other time but right then you felt like you would die if another second passed and Yoongi wasn’t stuffed balls deep in your sopping cunt.

“Okay fine, angel lemme just grab the condom.”

“I’m clean, and on birth control. You can cum inside me but just fuck me please, I’m gonna die if I don’t feel you inside me!”

Yoongi groaned at your words, “Fuck, Y/N you’re gonna be the death of me. You’re talking like such a cumslut wanting me to fuck my cum inside you. You want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes Yoongi I do, please I want your cum so bad.”

“Well what my baby wants,” he says as he lines his cockhead against your cunt, “My baby gets.” He thrusts into you with unimaginable vigour, you feel stuffed and oh so full. Every ridge of his perfect cock pressing into the walls of your pussy. You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his plush ass. “Yoongi please move.”

He pulls out of you all the way until only his tip rests inside your cunt and then slams back in with an animalistic growl. “You look so beautiful, my perfect little angel, my babygirl.”

You clench around his cock at the nicknames he showers upon you. He pulls out all the way to the tip and thrusts into you again with a jolt, sending you both slamming against the pillows. He does it once, twice, thrice and then you’ve lost count, forgotten your name and who you are as only one names lies on your tongue. Yoongi.

“I’m close Y/N, I want you to cum with me baby, come on angel.”

His hand reaches down between your conjoined bodies to where your clit meets his pubic bone as he thrusts mercilessly into you. Fingers rubbing furious circles against your clit, the squelching sounds of your juices making the scene even more perverse. And with a final thrust you’re cumming with a loud scream of his name as you feel spurt after spurt of hot cum rush deep inside your belly. You pant together as his cock softens inside you and his thick cum leaks out of your battered pussy.

But that can be overlooked for now because you’re in love and together and his arms feel like home when they pull you close to his chest.

You are at the brink of falling into deathlike sleep when you hear his soft voice flow to your ears, “This isn’t a dream, is it Y/N? You’ll be here in the morning, won’t you? Promise me you’ll be here.”

Your chest tightens at how unsure and meek he sounds, wanting to speak a thousand words and kiss him a hundred different ways to show him that you’re real. But in your tired state you settle for kissing the arm that’s around your chest and saying, “You can’t get rid of me even if you tried Min Yoongi. I love you. Now go to sleep and you’ll find me in the morning right here. In your arms.”

[kpopfanfictrash]

A Line Drawn

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Content Contributor: @baebae-goodnight (thank u for this moodboard I keep using ur the bestest)

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: PG-13 [ fluff + enemies to lovers!AU + Hogwarts!AU ]

Word Count: 1,540

Summary:  A series of drabbles about Slytherin!Jimin and Hufflepuff!Y/N, the sister of his self-declared mortal enemy.

A/N: These drabbles are non-sequential.

Squinting hard, you raise one hand to shield your eyes from the sun. The Quidditch field you stand on is boiling, especially while dressed in the dark robes that you are. Pushing hair from your forehead, you release a sigh and wonder what time this class ends.

Gingerly, you rotate your other hand and stare at the broom in the green grass below you. Lucas is the only one in your family who is talented at sports. You, on the other hand, are highly uncoordinated and mildly fearful of heights. All in all, you would make a terrible Quidditch player. Still, everyone at Hogwarts must take Intro to Quidditch; much in the same way a normal high school student must take gym, or physical education.

Everyone needs a passing grade, too and – frowning wearily – you wiggle your fingers and wait for Madame Hooch to begin.

“Now,” she declares from several rows up. “All I want you to do is to get up off the ground. Place your dominant hand over the broomstick – yes, just like that – and say, up.”

“Up,” you declare, staring down at the wood.

The broom wobbles before remaining stubbornly immobile. Already, you find yourself hating this.

“Very good!” cries Madame Hooch – presumably, not at you. Half of the class is chattering excitedly, having succeeded the first time they commanded their broomsticks to move.

Frown deepening, you return to the object at hand. “Up,” you repeat, feigning conviction.

Apparently, your broom can see right through this. It wobbles again, half-rising before it flops down on the grass, rolling to a stop at your feet. You glare at this, incensed. Staring at the object, you wonder if you can set it on fire with a non-verbal spell. That would likely lead to failure of the course, though and you scowl.

Perhaps you will fail this class. Perhaps you will fail out of Hogwarts. Perhaps they will say to you there must be some mistake, you must be a Squib and –

“What are you doing?” barks a familiar, male voice. “That’s a broomstick, not a dog. You’re not playing dead with it.”

Stiffening, you attempt to ignore the person standing before you. He does not move though and eventually, you glance up. Park Jimin stares back, both arms crossed and barely a foot away from your face. Park Jimin: your brother’s mortal enemy. Park Jimin: the person who usually assists your class as Seeker to the Slytherin Quidditch team. Park Jimin: the guy who fucked you last night in a broom closet near his common room.

Arching a brow, he does nothing to reveal this fact and yet, you see it written all over his face. It is obvious in the way that he stands, as though he owns that particular piece of landscaping. It is obvious in the way that he stares, as though he is already undressing you in his mind. It is even obvious in the way his lip curls, as though he harbors a secret.

“Jimin,” you hiss, tightening your grip in mid-air. Stubbornly, the broom remains limp. “Go away.”

Chuckling lightly, Jimin moves forward. “Why?” he teases. His grip adjusts yours in mid-air, making you flush.  “That wasn’t what you said to me last night,” he murmurs, breath hot on your ear. “As I recall, it was more along the lines of – closer, Jimin. Harder.”

Jimin’s impression of you is breathy, whiny and you frown, pulling abruptly away. “Shut up,” you inform, haughtily lifting your chin. “Or next time, you’ll be doing both parts of that routine on your own.”

Jimin’s smile disappears. “So... there’s going to be a next time?” he asks, sounding curious.

Blinking, you attempt to discern his level of interest. Jimin can be difficult to read but he seems serious now, almost holding his breath. “I – would you like there to be?” you query, hating how hesitant you sound.

Last night was only the second time you two hooked up, after all. The first time was rushed, hurried and mostly foreplay, if you are being honest. You left immediately after, full of dread about the deed you had done – and with your brother’s enemy, no less. This horror was exponentially lessened though, by the certainty that you had never been fucked that well in your life. No one had ever made you feel like Park Jimin did.

This was what led you back to him last night. This is what led you to lounge inside the Great Hall, finishing your ice cream at a maddeningly slow pace. Jimin sat at the Slytherin table on a bench directly facing your way. He chatted with his friends, not even pretending to eat as he pretended not to notice you.

You say pretended, because when you stood from the bench and stretched both arms overhead, Jimin was staring at you when you opened your eyes. You say pretended, because when you wandered into the hall and waited expectantly, Jimin came barreling out, grabbing you by the waist to pull you into a closet.

Last night was harder, rougher than the first time but you found that you liked it a lot. It makes your body burn just to think of it, which is mildly inconvenient given where the two of you are.

You have not spoken to Jimin since then. Both times, the only words exchanged were ones in passion – exactly as Jimin said. Closer, Jimin. Harder. An actual conversation has yet to transpire, regarding what the two of you are and where this is headed.

Not that it is headed anywhere, of course.

Jimin hesitates. He blinks and, for the first time, you notice how long his lashes are. They are surprisingly delicate for such a sharp face. Slowly, Jimin nods. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you again,” he murmurs, low enough not to be overheard.

His words make your heart race. The way he worded that was peculiar, almost as though – no, he would never want that. “Well, alright,” you respond, releasing a breath. “Then – stop being such an ass to me, before I say no for good.”

Jimin laughs easily, his smile returned. “When did you say no before?” he teases, re-gripping your hand in his. “Now, seriously,” he adds, glancing down. “This is magic, just like any other class. You know how to do this, I’ve seen you before.”

This is surprising to you, and you cannot stop wondering when. You cannot stop wondering when Jimin might have been looking. Turning your head sharply to face him, you stare.

“What you need to do,” Jimin continues, oblivious to your motion, “is consider the broom as an extension of yourself. It will listen, it will move because you make it move. Think of it like your wand, right?”

“I – right,” you exhale, taken aback by how kind and patient he is being.

Lucas has always said that Park Jimin is the lowest of the low, incapable of feeling for anyone but himself. Obviously, you cannot explain to your big brother how you know this – but Jimin seemed pretty in tune with your feelings last night. Also, the time before that.

Before you can think too deeply about those memories, you return to the broom and try as Jimin says. His hand remains on your wrist, fingers wrapped about yours in a way you find thoroughly distracting. There are several rings he wears on each hand and you wonder about each of their meanings before catching yourself.

“Just to be clear,” you announce, staring down at the broom.

Jimin looks at you, surprised. “Yes?”

“This… doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

For a moment, he remains silent. “What – sex?” Jimin states; blunt as ever.

Flushing, you nod. “Yes – us having sex,” you repeat, dropping your voice even lower. “This doesn’t change anything between us. You’re still, well, you and I’m still Lucas’s sister. This is just about sex, right?”

A flicker of something crosses Jimin’s expression but before you can dissect this, it is gone. “Of course,” Jimin snorts, returning to his earlier arrogance. “We’ll just fuck until we’re tired of it. No strings attached. No one has to ever know,” he adds, lower still.

“Right,” you exhale, distracted by his proximity to you. When he speaks like that, with his voice in your ear – you shiver. “Up!” you demand and, to your astonishment, the broom leaps into your grasp.

“Excellent job, Ms. Y/L/N!” cries Madame Hooch, from clear across the lawn. Jimin breaks quickly away. “Now, move to the other end of the field to practice mounting.”

Stepping backwards, Jimin laces both hands studiously before him. “Yes, excellent job, Y/N,” he agrees, loud enough for others to hear. “You know, for a Puff.”

When you hiss, his grin broadens.

“See you around.” Jimin winks at you before striding cheerfully away. The gesture is casual, twisting your stomach and you wince because fuck, is he attractive.

“Whatever,” you mumble, scowling darkly at his perfectly pert behind.

Once he is out of view, your lips twitch into a smile. Apparently, you will see Jimin around. Wiping your expression quickly clean, you turn to head for the other side of the field.

Over your shoulder, Jimin turns and watches you go.

A/N: [ Master List ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[fuwafuwamedb]

To Sail the Stars Pt 9 (Hakuno, Enkidu, Gilgamesh)

Previous Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight,

_____________

“Hakuno.”

Hakuno groaned a bit, feeling her body ache terribly. She felt strangely out of sorts, like her body was upright rather than snuggled into her bedsheets.

“Princess, are you waking up?”

There were two other voices getting after the voice speaking to her, warning them to stop their talk immediately. They were instilled with a great task and they were going to be lucky to manage to get her to avoid Ereshkigal’s claim.

What was happening around her?

Hakuno opened her eyes.

A pair of clay colored eyes looked back at her.

“Enkidu.”

The sounds of relief all around her revealed a handful of medics and maidens around her, the maidens trying to fix her hair while the medics were working on her back.

“You were injured,” Enkidu explained, noting her attention flying to the others in the room. “Do you remember who injured you?”

Injured…

Her memories whispered through the confusion.

Her father had come up behind her, slamming the weapon into her back. He had threatened her, hurt her, left her the-

Hakuno felt her eyes drift to the nightstand.

The potion.

It was gone.

“Look here,” Enkidu cooed. They brought her eyes back to them. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Whoever it was, we have doubled the security around your room. The king is furious, but everyone is keeping silent about the situation. Your wedding is this in a couple bell chimes from now.”

A couple bell chimes?

She barely had any time.

“Who did it?” Enkidu asked of her again. “Do you remember?”

Hakuno shook her head.

Enkidu was her only friend. They were the only one in the entire world who had listened to her babbling and had truly believed that she could build her dream ship. They had not only believed in her, but they had helped her. They had created a beautiful piece of craftsmanship of which any of the smithies would have killed to acquire to sell.

Soon, after the final parts of the ship were finessed, she would be free to fly away from all of this.

It would do no good in the meantime to cause any kind of stirring or ruckus.

If she didn’t diminish the king’s power, then Gilgamesh could kill her father. It would start a war, but Uruk could take on Ur. She’d known that from the start.

What they couldn’t take was losing a wonderful being like Enkidu.

“I don’t remember,” Hakuno told the being. “It was late. I was tired.”

Those dull eyes dimmed at her words. A part of her whispered seemed to sense that they didn’t believe her, but they were letting it go.

They were her friend and they trusted her to keep her confidence until she was ready to talk.

Enkidu, if there were ever a better friend, I hope I never meet them.

Let Enkidu alone be the best friend that any person could wish for.

“Your back is still wounded,” the asipu behind her informed her. “We have bandaged it and your maidens are planning to cover it with fabrics. When you lay with the king tonight, be careful. We shall tend to your back again on the morrow. Eat deeply at the dinner this evening.”

The maidens moved in from where the medics, the asipu, were leaving. Enkidu continued to hold her up, allowing the maidens to do their work.

Her arms were starting to ache from the grip.

“We may need you to hold her a while longer,” one of the maidens told them.

“I will remain here.” Enkidu smiled.

They were quiet from there.

The maidens were still hard at work. The being hummed softly, their eyes drifting to the windows where the sun was just starting to sink into the distance. The pale blue was turning to golds and coppers. The clouds were turning a deep violet.

It was hard to think of what to speak of with the maidens present.

It was hard to think of anything to say even if the maidens hadn’t been present.

“I’m sorry.”

Enkidu looked over at her, blinking a moment before they leaned in close.

“We’re going to sail the stars, aren’t we?”

Hakuno glanced up at those eyes, nodding. “Y-yes.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for. You are my friend. I trust that everything will work out in the end.”

She didn’t.

That was why she needed to get out of here.

Vimana was waiting for her to finish the wing details and then she needed to go. Before anything else went wrong, before anyone else was threatened or hurt; she needed to fly off into the heavens.

“She is ready,” the maidens declared.

Hakuno found herself set lightly on her feet, but her back began to ache immediately.

“You will need to walk,” Enkidu stated. “It won’t be far, but it will be painful.”

Each step was like walking one step further into agony. She felt Enkidu at her side the whole time though. Their arm held hers, leading her further and further along through the palace.

She was near tears by the time they made it to the entrance, looking out at the crowd gathering.

Her father was finishing the discussion with Gilgamesh, no doubt the payment part of the ceremony. A bride price was often given to her father, the man himself looking at the meager tablet and nodding quietly.

He had no need to argue when he thought he was going to kill the king that evening.

Hakuno found her arm released.

She moved forward only to pause.

“…What is this?”

Her father glared to the king. “Why does my daughter look hurt?”

Hakuno felt her insides freeze.

“Child! Come to me.” Her father began to move forward, but Gilgamesh moved in the way, strolling forward to her side.

“They didn’t finish their work, did they?” He murmured.

“I-I was just taken aback by you,” Hakuno said aloud. “You look quite handsome this way.”

The predatory grin on his face was without a doubt the most terrifying thing in that moment. Those red eyes drifted over her, taking in those words before he closed his eyes and laughed. It wasn’t even a quiet laugh either.

He laughed to the very gods themselves.

“Did you hear your princess, Ur King?” Gilgamesh barked. “She was taken aback by the fine example of a king! I do believe she is prepared nicely to become my queen consort.”

Hakuno stared at him.

Her father stared at him.

Queen consort?!

She would never be able to escape Uruk with that title!

[as-write-as-rain]

Once Upon A Dream (remix) - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A Sleeping Beauty/Winter Soldier remix, featuring the reader as a SHIELD agent who might have powers (or just a really finely tuned intuition)

Warnings: None. If you’ve seen and enjoyed the Captain America films, you shouldn’t find anything troubling here.

The third chapter of my Fairy Tale AU for @moonbeambucky’s 5k Writing Challenge! Life seems to be keeping me pretty consistent at publishing a chapter every two weeks, despite my attempts to go faster. That bug I picked up laid me low for longer than I would have liked -- that’s an unfortunate side effect of fibromyalgia, stuff hits me harder and lasts longer than it would for regular people. I promise I am working hard and hopefully will be able to publish more frequently in the near future ❤️

Chapter 3

Less than 24 hours later, you were rendezvousing at Pentagon City mall with Steve and Natasha, and trying to come up with a plan on the fly. While they headed to the Apple Store in an attempt to decode the contents of the zip drive, you were tasked with finding a getaway car. As you scoured the parking structure for the perfect vehicle, your mind was racing with the events of the last 12 hours – Director Fury was dead, and the three of you were now on the run from the organization you’d once considered your safe haven.

I still can’t believe he’s dead, you thought, shaking your head. Your thoughts kept drifting to those final moments, watching helplessly as the doctors struggled vainly to save him. If you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it. If only I’d gotten in touch with Maria sooner, or been able to really make her understand.

Yet, even as these thoughts floated through your head, the rational part of your mind reminded you that you had contacted her with plenty of time to initiate a contingency plan. You’d definitely done everything you could.

Unfortunately, sometimes that’s still not enough.

You sighed and tried to refocus. You hadn’t even slept well, because of course you hadn’t had one of those nice dreams where you and Bucky cuddled in hammocks on the beach. No, instead you had to dream that you were wandering the dimly-lit hallways of a creepy old building, searching for someone, becoming more and more desperate to find them. You always woke up from those kinds of dreams feeling disoriented and horribly, terribly alone.

Which was definitely not helping things right now.

You finally targeted the perfect truck – a Chevy Silverado Z71 that would be able to handle whatever terrain or road conditions lay before you, all without calling attention to itself or its passengers – and were in the middle of hotwiring it when your phone beeped with a text from Nat.

Hope ur rdy 4 us, company’s here [kissy face]

You chuckled. Of course, even when she was in mortal danger, Nat always had time to send an emoji.

You hurried to finish your task, praying that whoever had been dispatched to bring the three of you in would stay busy inside the mall instead of wandering out here. At the very least, you were confident that your intuition would let you know if you were in immediate danger. Finally, the engine roared to life, and you dove into the driver’s seat.

You pulled up to the 1st floor mall exit, the squeal of the tires echoing throughout the garage, just as your friends came barreling through the door.

“Howdy, Strangers. Need a lift?”

Steve didn’t even react to your pithy greeting; instead, he opened your door, taking you by surprise for once. “Hop in the back, I’ll drive.” When you didn’t move immediately, he clarified, “I know where we’re going and how to get there; we’ll fill you in on the road.” With a nod, you clambered into the backseat, and in minutes you were on 395 headed (roughly) north.

“So…” You leaned forward between the seats and blew a bubble with the gum you’d stolen from Nat’s pocket. When it popped, you prodded, “What’s the plan?”

Nat stretched a leg up on the dashboard and smirked, her eyes on Steve. “We’re taking a little trip down memory lane.”

“What, like Brooklyn? That’s like…” You tried to calculate the distance, but quickly gave up. “…a million hour drive.”

Steve rolled his eyes at both of you, but the split-second twitch of his lips told you he wasn’t really mad about your teasing. “We couldn’t crack the zip drive, but we were able to trace where it came from: Camp Lehigh.”

At the blank look on your face, Nat took pity on you. “New Jersey.”

You sat back with a huff.

“I think I would have preferred Brooklyn.”

Steve shook his head and glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Me too, to be honest.”

You sagged against the window, watching trees and cars speed past. At least the drive would be somewhat scenic; that’s something, right? You were just about to ask Nat to turn on the radio, hoping to find some good road trip tunes, when she spoke up again.

“I have a question for you, Rogers.” She studied him for a second before quickly adding, “Which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know?”

He cut off her rambling. “What?” His tone, while exasperated, didn’t sound annoyed so much as amused.

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?”

You almost swallowed your gum. “WHAT?!”

Grabbing her arm, you practically yelled in her ear, “Did you kiss Steve???” You turned to the now bright-red super soldier. “Did you kiss Nat?????”

“No! I mean, yes, technically, but – ugh! It was a diversionary tactic!!” Flustered Steve was always your favorite, and you fought to hide your grin.

“Aww come on, no need to be coy. I know you felt something,” Nat cooed flirtatiously, fluttering her eyelashes, and he looked like he might combust. You would have started cracking up if you weren’t so eager to hear more details.

Your grip on Nat’s arm tightened and you shook her a little, and you couldn’t resist adding a little teasing of your own. “All this time we’ve been wondering why he won’t go out with any of the girls we try to set him up with. Now we know, it’s because he’s been sweet on you!”

Steve squawked, turning even redder and clenching the wheel so hard you were afraid he might wrench it off. “It – it’s not like that!! We saw the Strike Team, they were searching the mall for us, and we needed to avoid them so the civilians would be safe….. And then we were about to pass Rumlow on the escalator, and then Natasha here said that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable and…” He trailed off, and the whole thing was so funny, you couldn’t hold your laughter in anymore.

Camp Lehigh was abandoned and overgrown, and definitely far from welcoming. You tried to squint your eyes and visualize a skinny pre-serum Steve running laps or striving to complete an obstacle course, using pictures and footage you’d seen in the Smithsonian exhibit to help anchor the scene. The image never quite crystallized, though; you always had trouble truly envisioning Steve as that small, scrawny figure in the photos. He’d been such a solid, powerful figure for as long as you’d known him.

Plus, from the minute you entered the camp, your senses had been on high alert, which really didn’t help your imagination either. You were overwhelmed with a really bad feeling, and knew danger was lurking somewhere nearby. You couldn’t identify the source, though, because it didn’t seem to be coming from a specific direction.

Except maybe…down? But that didn’t make any sense.

“What is it?” Nat had been in the middle of announcing that this was a dead end, when suddenly her tone changed. You turned to see Steve stalking towards a bunker, Nat trailing behind him.

“Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks. This building is in the wrong place.” Thank goodness Steve knew rules and regulations like the back of his hand, or you might not even have noticed anything was out of place.

He smashed the lock with his handy shield, and the three of you entered the cold, musty building. Shivering, you brought up the rear, severely disliking the way it felt like a mausoleum.

Steve flicked a switch, and ancient fluorescent lights flickered aglow, illuminating an unassuming office space of some sort. Clunky old desks, filing cabinets, and office chairs were arrayed throughout the room; thick dust and cobwebs coated every surface, making it clear that no living being had been in here in a very long time.

And, inevitably, your feeling of impending doom increased.

Glancing around, you spied a large symbol on the wall just as Nat did, and realized that this must have been where SHIELD began, all those years ago. You supposed it made sense; Captain America began here too, and this had been their homebase of sorts. Of course when they came back from overseas, they would have chosen somewhere familiar, somewhere the seeds of SHIELD had already begun to sprout.

You followed your partners into a library or storage room of some sort, where a trio of prominently displayed photographs confirmed your hunch. You recognized all three people from the Smithsonian exhibit; but apparently Nat had never been, because her next question made you cringe.

“Who's the girl?”

You purposely avoided making eye contact with Steve, because you already knew how he must be feeling. This camp, the place where they first met and got to know each other, was already brimming with memories of her – and now her face was on the wall. Young. Vibrant. Fierce. Just the way he probably remembered her. He’d been to see her just yesterday, confronted yet again with the fact that a lifetime had passed him by in the blink of an eye; and he was left with an obsolete snapshot of a moment in time, and an ache for what could have been.

There was a long, awkward pause, and then Steve literally sidestepped the question by striding deeper into the room.

You’d just opened your mouth to whisper a quick-but-vague explanation to Nat, when he pointed to a cobwebbed bookshelf and pondered aloud, “If you're already working in a secret office...” He paused to insert his hand into the space between the bookcases, and then, with surprising ease, slid them apart, revealing a hidden alcove. “…why do you need to hide the elevator?”

A sudden spike of anxiety shot through you, and you knew that only danger waited below. But the feeling was different than the one you usually got when you were about to be physically attacked – and before you could pinpoint what was different about it, the elevator ride had ended and the doors were already opening into a cavernous basement filled with ancient computer relics.

[whirlybirbs]

a date ; part two.

summary: PART ONE. #bittercoffee. after the museum, you two head to bucky’s favorite diner. this is sickly sweet, just like the milkshake you share.  word count: 2.6k rating: T for some smooches a/n: i hope you guys like this one -- it’s a long time over due. hold onto ur butts. the bittercoffee ship has sailed! also, i made a playlist for the diner! want to listen while you read? click here! 

Bucky Barnes forgot how much he liked french fries.

He had never been a picky eater -- he remembers not having the luxury as a kid. French fries, like anything else greasy and good during his childhood, were a rare occasion.

He’s essentially hoarding his basket, one bare hand and one gloved hand wrapped around a very, very big burger as he shoves it halfway down his throat. It’s a force of habit. Protect your food from scavenging younger sisters, and eat quickly before the guards come and take it away. Two separate habits built from two separate personas.

You’re sitting across from him at the table, grinning as you lean and take a long sip from the chocolate shake poised in the center of the opalescent table.

Behind you, echoing out the jukebox, some soft war-time ballad sways along through the nearly empty diner.

It’s late.

He’d gained his appetite on the walk to the diner -- you were good at distracting him like that. You chatted about work and class and anything that came to fruition. It took his mind off the darker parts of himself. You knew it was working when you made him laugh.

Now, Bucky is thinking about one thing and it’s that these burgers were better than he remembered. Steve and him used to split a basket of fries and grab their shakes to go. It was cheaper back then, and things were a little bit shinier, but it seems like the diner had stayed in the family and whoever had inherited it had taken care of it.

Bucky chews happily, a bit of tomato slipping from his burger as he juggles the mess. You watch how he eyes the meal, face relaxed and demeanor significantly different from before at the museum. His sweater is pushed up, rolled around his right wrist -- but his left? He doesn’t dare push it up.

Maybe you were staring for too long.

You look up from his arm, gaze darting up the muscle there before realizing he’s got you pinned under the same type of curious look.

You quirk a brow, head tilting a bit as you munch on an onion ring. “What?”

“How are you eating it so... easily?”

His head motions to your burger -- you’d been careful to take calculated bites, to poke the lettuce and cheese and tomato and onion out evenly. Your face blooms into a triumphant grin. In comparison, his own burger is a massacre in it’s basket.

“You’re looking at a burger champion, old man.”

Bucky fights a weighted smile, licking his lips and nodding as he returns to his burger and takes a big bite. He talks with his mouth full. You think it’s kind of cute. You’re in deep.

“I’m not an old man.”

You shrug, picking up your own burger and taking a clean bite. Bucky wrings the napkin in his hand, wiping at his face. He smiles, chewing on a couple of fries as you speak, “Whatever you say, old man.”

Bucky shakes his head, battling a grin as he clenches his jaw. His boot toes your own under the table and you laugh into the bite, covering your mouth and chewing quickly. Your eyes are soft with humor.

“Are you trying to play footsie with me, James?”

His grin is big as he leans, sipping from the shared chocolate shake and shrugging.

“So what if I am?”

“Then I’d say you’re pretty terrible at it.”

His foot nudges yours again and you beam, taking a big bite of your burger and nudging him back. Bucky leans back against the booth, eyes taking you in. You’re beautiful, and Bucky can’t think he’s ever thought that when watching a girl shove a burger half-way down her throat. But, there’s a first for everything. He munches on his fries.

A bit of ketchup dribbles down your chin.

“You’re staring again, Bucko,” you chide through a mouthful as you reach for a napkin, “I know I’m pretty but --”

“Beautiful.”

The correction slams you in the chest and you feel a little jump of your heart spur heat across your face. You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you swallow and wring the napkin in your hands.

“Yeah, well,” you mumble, foot nudging his - but gentler this time, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Even when I eat like animal?”

He’s biting into his burger again, condiments smearing along his cheek, and half of the toppings slipping from the bun. It only makes you laugh again, bright and happy. You move, snatching a napkin. Bucky chews, burger lowered as he watches you lean up on your elbows, moving to wipe the smeared mess from his cheek.

“Even when you eat like an animal.”

He closes his eyes, face screwed into a smile, before pulling them open once you seem to get most of it. The gesture leaves his heart burning -- and it shows. His cheeks are rosy. You notice, but you don’t say anything. You just admire the lovesick look that washes over his face.

A comfortable beat of silence washes over the both of you, each finishing your burgers respectively and moving onto the basket of fries. The jukebox shifts tracks; you recognize the song -- and Bucky seems to as well, though the recognition lights up his eyes.

“They’ll be bluebirds over… the white cliffs of Dover… tomorrow, just you wait and see…”

“Vera Lynn,” Bucky mumbles, “This is Vera Lynn, isn’t it?”

You nod, watching him drum his fingers on the table. He’s thinking, eyes bouncing back and forth.

“Falsworth. Falsworth had the hots for her.”

James Montgomery Falsworth. Little memories, little words, little strings of songs and laughter come to mind. He sees Falsworth’s beret. It’s red.

He must be talking about one of the Howling Commandos. You settle back in your seat, watching him bloom into a contented smile. Bucky seems a little bit more sure of himself, listening to the song and mouth moving as he recognizes small lines here and there. You watch, eyes taking in the way his fingers drum and his head bobs and he laughs a little to himself.

“You’re really something, Bucky Barnes.”

It’s just barely a whisper and it’s drowned in affection; Bucky’s eyes snap to you, blue and bright, and he swallows as you smile at him. He feels a little bit like a deer in headlights when you say things like that -- but inside he’s blooming with a healthy and happy feeling that soothes the aches and fears settled in his bones.

“If you weren’t so far away I’d kiss you.”

It slips past his lips before he can even stop it, and the air seems sweeter now that it’s out in the open. You chew your lip, fighting a bright grin as you lean up on your elbows again -- but this time you bright yourself closer than before.

Bucky shifts, leaning himself forward onto the table. His own smile is boyish; it’s reminiscent of the photo you saw of Sergeant Barnes back in the exhibit. You like it.

“How’s this?” you ask, cheeks sore from the smile that’s dug into your dimples and set a permanent residence there.

Bucky’s about to answer, about to close the distance and throw his self control out the window until he makes immediate eye contact with one of the three teenagers who stroll through the door. Bucky’s smile melts, eyes closing for a second in mild annoyance. You notice, just in time to hear a cheerful shout cut through the quiet of the diner.

“Mister Barnes! Hey!”

“Hi Peter.”

It’s said with such potent annoyance you have to smother a laugh with your hand. The teenager, no older than seventeen, skips over quickly; his face is plastered with an excited smile and you note how his friends watch the interaction. The girl, tall and dark skinned, seems to scoff as Peter stammers.

“It’s -- uh, it’s good to see you, man!”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, Peter?” Bucky says slowly, eyebrows quirked as he leans around Peter to peek at his friends.

“It’s a Friday, Buck,” you nudge his foot, giving him an amused look, “Bedtimes don’t apply to Fridays.”

Peter’s grin falters a bit, realization socking him in the jaw as he puts two and two together. You’re both… sitting. Alone. His eyes bound to the empty milkshake in the center of the table with two straws poking out. And -- he’s never seen you before. Not around the tower at least. And Mr. Stark had mentioned Bucky having some sort of date this week. The high schooler swallows, balking slightly at the daggers coming from Bucky’s eyes.

“I’m interrupting.”

“You are,” Bucky offers, “So, if you wouldn’t mind, Peter --”

“How do you two know one another again?”

Bucky and Peter blink back at you; you’re reclined in the booth, arms crossed with an amused look plastered on your face. You know, of course, and Bucky exhales slowly as Peter begins to trip through an explanation.

“I… I, uh, I do the Stark Internship a-and, uh, Mr. Barnes here does…”

Peter’s hands motion, a pained expression on his face.

“I do repair,” Bucky deadpans, shooting Peter a look.

“I thought you did security?” you feign confusion and Bucky nearly laughs; he chews his lip, hiding an evident smile.

“He… uh, he does… secuuuuuurity repair,” Peter draws out the words as he tries to think of how the heck that would even make sense, but you seem a bit preoccupied in watching Bucky fiddle with his hands to notice Peter’s discomfort, “Well, uh, it was nice to meet you --”

You offer a hand and a name. Peter graciously accepts it.

“Sorry for interrupting your date, Mr. Barnes!”

“Do all of your coworkers know you’re on a date?”

Bucky’s face is hot and he exhales again, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. Peter suddenly gets it, and is quick to hightail it out of there -- returning to his friends at the bar as the settle in to order milkshakes.

Bucky’s thankful the waitress arrives shortly after, scooping up the trays and empty milkshake glass and swaps the mess for a check.

You speak quietly. “The Stark Internship? Is that what Tony Stark calls it?”

Bucky gives you a look, blinking up as he folds a five dollar bill in for a tip. Tucking his wallet into his back pocket, the Winter Soldier scoots out of the booth and snatches your coat from the peg on the side of the booth. You watch as he holds the jacket out, motioning for you to stand.

You do, and Bucky helps you into your coat.

His fingers brush your neck and you try not to think about how close he is for too long -- it’s tempting.

Grabbing your purse, Bucky’s quick to entwine his fingers with yours. He waves goodbye to the waitress and gives Peter a quick nod. Meanwhile, you grin, waving your free hand at Peter as Bucky ushers you out of the diner.

“Good luck with your internship, Peter!”

“Oh! Thanks!”

The second your out the door, you’re laughing and Bucky is too -- he shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you press yourself flush to his side. Your laughs drift, hands tucked under his coat and scaling along his back as you walk. The feeling is nice. Bucky smiles down at you.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” he mumbles, shaking his head as you grin up at him.

“Good,” you chide, “You guys need to work on cover stories.”

“It’s mostly just Peter,” Bucky offers, leading you along the sidewalk and back to your apartment, “He’s young. And bad at lying.”

“Really bad.”

“Terrible.”

There’s a beat of silence before you laugh again, a hand braced against his abdomen as you walk. You feel the muscles tense there under his dark sweater. Your ponytail dances against his shoulder as you lean, matching his strides. You like being this close to him. He’s warm.

Bucky thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“...You never kissed me,” you say a few minutes into your walk. You’re a few feet from your apartment now and you know Marissa is going to be waiting up, peeking out the window to see whatever she could. If anything, you’d much rather kiss him out here on the street than back on your stoop. Away from prying eyes. But, Bucky keeps walking.

He hums. “I didn’t.”

His steps slow before he stops in front of your apartment’s stoop. You try and calm yourself down, enough to at least remember to breathe, but your words come out rushed and quick when you speak.

“So are you going to?”

The question spurs his own heart into a kickup, and Bucky think this has got to be a dream -- some sort of twisted fantasy that isn’t real. He can’t remember the last time he was this happy, the last time someone touched him and wanted to touch him more. A kiss, though small, seems so precious and perfect and validating. He feels normal. He feels like he isn’t some broken man.

“I think so,” he says quietly, “I figure Marissa will be watching --”

Your hands travel to his waist as you stand in front of him. Bucky’s stomach jumps at the touch. You smile. “She’s nosy.”

“Let her be.”

It’s a mutter, words slipping across your lips as he leans down and kisses you carefully. He’s gentle and slow and his hands slip upwards to cradle your jaw like you’re made of porcelain. To Bucky, you’re a dream and he’s afraid of waking up. Your fingers bunch into his sweater and you pop onto your tiptoes, enough to gain a bit of a sturdier kiss.

Bucky hums, smile blooming against your lips as he presses onward, hands holding you a bit tighter and lips moving against yours with a little bit more intention. He’s the one he pulls away, whose lips are pulled apart in slight awe -- you move to touch his hand, to thank him for dinner and tell him you had a good time.

But, he kisses you again, quick and fast and peppers another two kisses along your cheeks. His stubble tickles and you screw your eyes shut, nose wrinkling as you’re swept into his arms. It’s easy, it doesn’t feel forced or uncomfortable. His nose bumps yours and you smile.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Next time I’ll pay?”

“Only if it’s somewhere cheap,” he says, leaning back and squeezing your hand, “You have bills to pay.”

“What, they don’t charge you rent over at the tower?”

“No,” he laughs, “I earn my keep.”

You bite your lip, smothering a laugh as you drag yourself back to him; you slip onto you tippy toes again and kiss him sweetly. Your words are quiet. “Tell the Winter Soldier I say hi, okay?”

Bucky’s face is hot as he ducks his eyes to the pavement. You pull away, letting go of his hand reluctantly as you begin to hike up the steps. He watches as you dig your keys from your purse.

“I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

Another smile.

Bucky feels like he’s going to pass out.

“Good night, Bucky.”

“Night, doll.”

Your door closes, but not until he hears the excited shrieks of your roommate echo off the walls of the apartment. He laughs, toeing the ground as the door closes.

Sure enough, the moment it does, his cell phone buzzes in his back pocket.

It’s Stark.

Overhead, Bucky hears the whirr of jet propulsion engines and suddenly he realizes Marissa wasn’t the only one watching.

[aion-rsa]

Read an Exclusive Excerpt From Charlie Jane Anders’ YA Debut

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

We need hopeful, critical, and empathetic voices in speculative fiction now more than ever, and Charlie Jane Anders is one of the best. The io9 co-founder who has gone on to write Hugo-nominated speculative fiction novels All the Birds in the Sky and The City in the Middle of the Night, is coming out with her first young adult novel, and we couldn’t be more excited. The upcoming science fiction adventure is called Victories Greater Than Death, and it’s being billed as perfect for fans of Star Wars (us) and Doctor Who (also us). We’re honored to bring you an exclusive excerpt from the novel—but, first, the synopsis:

THE UNIVERSE IS CALLING—and time is running out. Tina has always known her destiny is outside the norm—after all, she is the human clone of the most brilliant alien commander in all the galaxies (even if the rest of the world is still deciding whether aliens exist). But she is tired of waiting for her life to begin. And then it does—and maybe Tina should have been more prepared. At least she has a crew around her that she can trust—and her best friend at her side. Now, they just have to save the world.

And now for the exclusive sneak peek…

1

I have a ball of starlight inside me. A globe, containing a billion bright  pinpricks. It’s always been there, since I was a baby—but lately I’ve been chewing up the inside of my own mouth waiting for it to burst out of me.  Sometimes I feel all these little suns whirling, like they’re getting ready to  emerge from the hollow of my collarbone.  My whole life has been leading up to this, and I can’t stand the waiting. 

I’m dangling by my waist from the side of the highway bridge. All the blood  rushes to my head as a sixteen-wheeler truck rushes past, so close that I  can feel the air disturbance and smell the fumes. The bridge quivers, and so does my heart. I feel like I’m going to pass out. 

“Anything?” asks Rachael Townsend, who’s holding my belt in her strong grip. 

“Nothing,” I gasp. 

“Maybe you’re not scared enough,” Rachael says. 

“I’m definitely scared enough. This . . . isn’t working.” 

Rachael helps me pull myself upward, back behind the rusted old railing. I collapse on the hot cement walkway, next to a graffiti tag with a picture of a snarling puma. 

“Okay.” Rachael smiles, sitting cross-legged on the walkway with her eyes looking wide and extra green in the midday sun. She’s dressed like a fourth-grader, as usual, in corduroy overalls and a long-sleeved stripy shirt.  

“So it’s not reacting to fear. Or adrenaline.” 

“And we know it’s not triggered by anger,” I say, “or it would have activated when Lauren Bose put dirt in Zuleikha Marshall’s new shoes. For sure.” 

“Is Lauren Bose still harassing Zuleikha Marshall? And the school is doing nothing?” Rachael shakes her head. “This is why I’m being homeschooled.” 

“Yeah. And yeah, the administration is both-sidesing the hell out of it. Makes me want to scream.” 

“Okay.” Rachael reaches into her backpack and pulls out a folder. “So I’ve  personally seen your rescue beacon light up on three separate occasions, and you’ve told me about four other times.” She shows me a chart, with beautiful handwriting and amazing doodles showing different versions of me with a bright blue-tinged glow coming from my sternum. Because Rachael is the greatest artist of all time. 

Each cartoon version of me is labeled with things like: 

1. Tina about to go to junior prom with Rob Langford  2. Tina right after cops broke up our flashmob outside the slumlord  offices  3. Tina finds out she flunked trig midterm 

“I got a D on that trig test,” I protest. “I did not flunk!” 

“So I don’t see a huge pattern,” Rachael says. “I mean, it’s supposed to turn on when you’re old enough for the aliens to come get you, right?” 

“They’re taking their sweet time.” I drag myself to my feet. “My mom keeps saying it might not happen until I turn eighteen, or even twenty-one. She just doesn’t want me to leave. As if it would be better for me to just stay trapped here forever.” 

Rachael stands up too, and we walk back toward her rust-colored old Dodge hatchback. She’s being quiet again, which . . . a lot of being friends with Rachael is learning to interpret her many flavors of silence. 

Like, there’s the “I’m mad at you and you won’t find out why for a week” silence. Or the “I’m figuring something out in my own head” silence. The most common is the “I need to be alone” silence, because Rachael has major hermit tendencies. But this silence is none of those, I’m pretty sure. 

We drive for a while, without even any music. I’m one-quarter wondering what’s up with Rachael, but three-quarters obsessing about my rescue beacon and why it won’t just spill all the stars already. 

At last, when we’re stopped at an intersection near the upscale mall and the tech campus, Rachael glances my way and says, “I wish I could go too. When the aliens come to collect you. I wish I could come along.” 

I just stare at her. I don’t even know what to say. 

“I know, I know.” Rachael raises her hands from the steering wheel.  

“It would be ridiculous, and I would be useless up there in space, and there would be creatures trying to kill us, and it’s your destiny, not mine. But still. I wish.” 

I want to tell Rachael that she’ll have a way better life down here on Earth. She’ll go to art school, find a new boyfriend to replace that loser Sven, publish tons of comics, and win awards. She’ll have adventures that don’t involve things like an alien murder team trying to kill her. She has plenty of reasons to stay. 

Unlike me. I don’t have any real friends at high school, since Rachael dropped out. And the only thing I have to look forward to here on Earth is more people talking down to me. More bullies and creepers at school. More feeling like a bottomless pit, crammed with garbage emotions. 

When Rachael drops me at my house, I just say, “I wish you could come too.” 

“Yeah.” She smiles and hands me the folder. “Here. You should have this. Maybe it’ll help.” 

She drives away. While I stare at a painstakingly annotated chart full of cartoon Tinas—each one bursting with pure dazzling light. 

A few hours later, Rachael and I are already chatting again: 

Chat log, Aug 19:  Trashstar [5:36 pm]: its gonna happen soon. i can tell. the beacon. it’s gonna light up.  Inkflinger [5:36 pm]: thats what u said last spring. and last winter. and five other times.  Trashstar [5:37 pm]: its different this time i swear  Trashstar [5:37 pm]: my mom is doing that thing again where she just stares at nothing  Inkflinger [5:38 pm]: oh man, i’m sorry  Inkflinger [5:38 pm]: what do u really think will happen when it lights up????  [Trashstar is typing]  [Trashstar is typing]  [Trashstar is typing]  Inkflinger [5:40 pm]: helloooo?!  Trashstar [5:40 pm]: i dont know  Trashstar [5:41 pm]: they didnt tell my mom much when they dropped me off  Trashstar [5:41 pm]: just . . . alien baby. massive legacy. evil murder team.  Inkflinger [5:41 pm]: i hope there’s a dragon that u get to ride on  Trashstar [5:41 pm]: like my own personal dragon  Inkflinger [5:41 pm]: ur personal dragon that u share with me  Trashstar [5:42 pm]: i’m pretty sure there will be at least a suit of armor  Trashstar [5:42 pm]: rocket boots!!!!  Trashstar [5:42 pm]: my theory is i’m the heir to a space casino  Inkflinger [5:42 pm]: u’ve had YEARS to think about this  Inkflinger [5:42 pm]: and space casino is the best u’ve come up with????  Trashstar [5:42 pm]: or maybe a wizard school  Inkflinger [5:43 pm]: its definitely either casino or wizard academy  Trashstar [5:43 pm]: pretty sure i’ve narrowed it down to those 2 options yea 

This beacon is a part of me, like my liver or kidneys. Except sometimes at night, a faint growl wakes me—and I feel like I have a pacemaker, or some other foreign object, jammed inside my chest. And then I remember that my body isn’t the same as literally everyone else’s. 

I fill our electric teakettle, with the switch jammed in the “on” position. And then I lean all the way over the side of my bed, so the steam is hitting the exact spot where the beacon is located. Mostly, the steam gets up in my nostrils and makes me choke. 

My mom hears the kettle squealing. “What are you doing in there?” She peels back the curtain that separates my “bedroom” from the rest of the apartment. “Stop messing around. This is ridiculous.” 

“It likes the steam! I can feel it reacting.” I cough and sputter. 

“It’s an interplanetary rescue beacon, not a pork bun.” My mom turns the kettle off. 

“I’m just so sick of ‘almost.’” I flop back onto my bed and bury my face in my knees. 

Lately, my mom spends her time either trying to hide her tears from me, or acting like I’m already gone. Last week, I caught her folding the same shirt for five minutes, just creasing and tucking over and over until it looked like a paper football. She’s started calling up friends she hasn’t seen in ages, signing herself up for adult education classes, working on ways to move on with her life without me. But then, she’ll blow off some social plan that she spent hours making, just so she can sit at home staring into a Public Radio mug full of Chablis. I want to comfort her, or reassure her, but I don’t know how. 

For all we know, the people who left me on Earth as a baby are all gone, and there’ll be nobody to answer the beacon when it does come to life. 

“You could just stay here on Earth and have an amazing life.” She stares at her refrigerator door, with all the old photos and the terrible artwork I did in fifth grade. “You’re already helping people down here,” she says with the full force of her midwestern Presbyterian earnestness. “All of the things that you do with the Lasagna Hats, everything you make happen . . . Nothing could ever make me prouder of you than I already am.” 

“Yeah.” I stare at the floor. I don’t know what to say. My mom knows I want this, more than anything, even though it’s going to destroy her. 

My mom sighs and drinks from her wine-mug. “Just promise me one thing.” 

“Sure. Whatever.” 

For once, we are actually looking at each other. Her red hair has wiry  streaks of gray, and her eyes have new lines around them. 

“When the beacon lights up, you have to run.” Her eyes blaze, out of nowhere, with an intensity I’ve almost never seen before. “Run as if armies were chasing you. Because I’ve told you, the moment your beacon activates, monsters from beyond our world will try to kill you. They won’t stop. Keep running, until you’re sure you’re being rescued for real. Promise me.” 

I kind of shrug it off, but my mom grabs my wrist. So I say, “Yeah, yeah. Of course. I promise. Jeez.” 

That night I wake up, and there’s someone next to my bed. 

All I can see at first is a pair of coal-black eyes, glinting in the moonlight filtered through the branches of the yew tree outside my tiny window. 

Then I make out his face. Pale, like a ghost. Grinning, like a serial killer. 

Something lights up in his hands. I glimpse a shiny metal tube with four wings on all sides, and an opening, full of bottomless darkness, aimed right at me. Somehow I know this is a weapon. 

He stands over me, huge as a mountain, blocking out everything else. Even if I had the strength to rise, I would still be a speck next to him. 

“I take no pleasure from killing you.” The giant speaks in a low purr. “Satisfaction, certainly. And an adrenaline rush. And oh yes, a sense of vindication. Your death will probably give me closure. But still, I feel sad that it came to this.” 

My skin is so cold, my hands are numb and my arms feel prickly. I can’t breathe. 

“I want you to know that I feel nothing but pity for your miserable state.” The huge figure raises the gun to my head. 

I scream until my throat hurts. 

The gun hisses. I’m about to be burned down to nothing. 

I’m so cold, I can’t stand this cold. 

The word “miserable” rings in my ears as I scream and brace myself for death. 

2 

The next thing I know, my mom is shaking me and yelling my name. “Tina!”  

My mom wraps my quilt tight around me. “Tina, are you okay? Talk to me.” 

I still can’t breathe. “He was here,” I wheeze. “He was right here. He wasn’t even human. He was about to kill me.” 

“Honey, it’s okay,” my mom says. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re here with  me, it’s only human beings ’round these parts. I promise.” 

“I’ve never been so scared in my life.” 

That sentence takes me several breaths to say, with all the shivering. The  quilt (with squares containing famous women who fought against oppression) helps a little. So does my mom, whispering reassurances in my ear. 

That wasn’t just a random hallucination, or a dream. It was a memory. A  memory of the person I used to be. Whoever that was. Don’t ask how, but I  just know this was a glimpse of her life. The rescue beacon whirs inside me. 

“I’m glad you saw that,” my mom says, “because I keep trying to tell you.  The moment that beacon activates, they’ll be coming. I only saw a glimpse,  and that was enough to make my skin crawl.” 

My stomach flutters. “Tell me again.” 

My mom hesitates, then nods. “I had just failed another infertility treatment, and they showed up at my apartment. They had a baby, with skin  the color of fresh-picked lavender, and big round eyes, and they said you  were a clone of someone who had just died, someone important. They  took some of my DNA and used it to make you look like my daughter, so  I could watch you until they were ready to come get you. They showed me  a hologram of the monsters that I needed to keep you hidden from, and it  was like seeing an army sent by death itself.” 

My mom leans on my quilted shoulder, like she’s about to start crying. 

Then she takes a deep breath instead. “Let’s do something fun tomorrow.  I have a day off. Worthington Garden Party?” 

“Wow. What? Really? We haven’t played Worthington Garden Party in  forever.” 

The beacon goes back to sleep behind my breastbone. 

“Oh! There’s that brand-new mall near the tech campus that we haven’t  even been to yet. I can wear my church-lady hat!” My mom laughs, and  rubs her hands together, and I can’t help smiling too. 

But after she leaves, I close my eyes again, and I still see the pale giant  leering at me. Raising that terrible gun. I feel frozen to the marrow, like I’ve  waded neck-deep into a lake on the bleakest day of winter. 

Worthington Garden Party is a game my mom and I invented, where we  go through the mall looking at things we could never afford to buy, and  we pretend that we’re planning a fancy garden party for the Worthingtons  (who don’t exist, just in case it wasn’t already obvious). 

My mom puts on her scariest hat, with the carnations and the pink ribbon, and I wear bright apricot capri pants. And we drive to the new shopping center, over on the rich side of town. 

The kitchen store has this red-chrome machine that turns fresh fruit into a decorative fountain, and you can program it to spray a few different patterns. “I don’t know,” my mom says, in a very serious voice. “The Worthingtons are quite particular about their juice formations. We wouldn’t want to have a fruit salute that lacks proper parabolas.” My mom says the words  “fruit salute” with a straight face. 

“Yes, yes,” I say. “I mean, the Worthingtons. How many times have they said they prefer their papaya juice to really soar? So many times.” 

My mom nods gravely. “Yes. The Worthingtons have strong opinions about properly aerodynamic papaya juice.” Over in the corner, the salesperson is hiding her giggles behind her hand. 

This is the mom I’ve been missing lately. The one who decided that she and I would treat everything like a grand ridiculous adventure, the two of us against the universe. Even when we went camping and set fire to our tent, and got ourselves menaced by beavers. (They were really terrifying. I swear.) 

“I always knew that you were going to be taken away from me,” my mom told me a while ago. “I thought about taking you off the grid, or trying to find people to train you in survival skills. But I decided it was better for you to have some good memories of your time as a human being. However long that lasts.” 

We keep moving through the mall, along marble floors that are so shiny, I see a murky ghost of myself reflected in them. We gaze upon shiny shoes, in a riot of colors, that cost nearly a month’s rent. These kid-leather saddle shoes, with peacock feather heads all around the sides, might be just the thing to help the Worthingtons launch the season. “Mundane,” my mother proclaims, squinting at them. “Frightfully mundane.” 

The only thing we actually buy is a basket of truffle fries, which we eat in the food court. They smell of rich oils and spices, but they taste like regular fries, just a little sweeter. 

My mom chatters about the book club she keeps missing, and I let myself breathe. It’s okay. Only humans ’round these parts. 

Then I look away for a second, and see the pale man, standing near the video game store. Watching us. His lip curls upward, and he pats the ugly gun attached to his dark tunic. 

When I look again, a second later, the pale man is gone. 

The next day at Clinton High, someone has posted a slut-shaming video about Samantha Kinnock, and it has a hundred likes already. Only thirty seconds long, just a close-up of Samantha’s ass in this pair of booty shorts that she decided to wear one weekend, with ugly messages popping up. I hear Lauren Bose and her other friends whisper about it in the hallway. 

It never stops. The cycle just keeps going and going. People only feel like their footing is secure when they can step on someone else’s head. 

Why would I even want to be human? 

I step into Lauren’s path and the rage settles onto me, like armor. 

“Leave Samantha alone.” 

I get tunnel vision, and my nerves are jangling, and Lauren’s dimply smirk gets under my skin—and the beacon wakes up. Something to add to Rachael’s chart of cartoon Tinas. 

This ball of light throbs and pounds against the wall of my chest like a trapped animal, pale glow showing through my hoodie. And I think, It’s happening, damn damn damn, I’ll finally be who I was meant to be. 

One of Lauren’s friends, maybe Kayla, sticks out her foot, and trips me. I fall face-first onto the tile floor, hard enough to scrape my palms. Everyone is laughing and chattering and aiming their phones. 

The beacon sputters. 

All at once, I’m not picking myself up off the hallway of Clinton High. I’m raising myself, painfully, off an opaque black surface made out of glass, or plastic. The floor quakes under my hands and knees—and all around me is nothing but darkness, peppered with tiny lights. 

Stars to my left, stars to my right, stars all around. 

I’m standing on top of a spaceship, in deep space. 

And my skin has turned purple. Not grape-soda purple, more like a pale, bluish purple that shimmers as it catches the starlight. I’m wearing a crimson suit, or some kind of uniform, with a river of lights on the left sleeve and a picture of a strange mask, like for an opera singer, on the right. My violet palms are cupped around a holographic message that I somehow know is telling me this spaceship is about to explode. 

“You mustn’t blame yourself,” says a voice like the rustling of dead leaves in the wind. “You were always doomed to fail.” The giant from my bedroom turns his depthless black eyes toward me. He’s wearing a bloodred sash across his long dark tunic. 

His face looks wrong, even besides the paleness and the big dark eye pools. I can’t figure it out at first, but then I realize: he’s too perfect. No flaws, no blemishes. The two sides of his face are exactly the same, like a mirror image. His dark hair is cropped short across his white scalp. 

“Marrant, even if you kill me, that doesn’t mean I’ve failed,” I hear myself say. “There are victories greater than death. I might not live to see justice done, but I can see it coming. Also, that sash makes you look like a third-rate CrudePink singer.” 

The giant—Marrant?—snarls and lunges forward, and his right hand holds the same weapon as in my vision from the other night. I’ve never even seen a regular gun up close, but at this range, I can tell this one will rip my entire body in half. 

The darkness in Marrant’s eyes makes me feel tiny, weak, a speck of nothing. 

Then reality comes crashing back. My skin is back to its usual shade of  pale cream. I’m standing there in the hallway, trembling, and the bell is ringing, and I’m about to be late for class. My legs won’t budge, no matter how hard I try to make them. 

3

Saturday morning, the sunlight invades my tiny curtained-off “bedroom” and wakes me from a clammy bad dream. Even awake, I keep remembering Marrant’s creepy voice—and I startle, as if I had more layers of nightmare to wake from. 

My phone is jittering with all the gossip from Waymaker fandom and random updates about some Clinton High drama that I barely noticed in the midst of my Marrant obsession . . . and then there’s a message from Rachael on the Lasagna Hats server. 

Monday Barker. It’s happening: disco party! Coming to pick you up at noon. 

The Lasagna Hats started as a backchannel group for Waymaker players—until the game had one gross update too many, and then we started just chatting about whatever. And somehow it turned into a place to organize pranks and disruptions against all of the world’s scuzziest creeps. 

I grab my backpack, dump out all my school stuff, and cram it full of noisemakers, glitter, and my mom’s old costume stuff. I’m already snapping out of my anxiety spiral. 

The back seat of Rachael’s car is covered with art supplies and sketchpads, and I can tell at a glance that she’s leveled up since I last saw her works in progress. As soon as I get in her car, Rachael chatters to me about Monday Barker—that online “personality” who says that girls are naturally bad at science and math, and women should never have gotten the vote. 

Then Rachael trails off, because she can tell I’m only half listening. 

“Okay,” she says. “What’s wrong with you?” I can barely find the words to tell her I’ve started having hallucinations about an alien serial killer. 

The artwork on Rachael’s back seat includes a hand-colored drawing of a zebra wearing a ruffly collar and velvet jacket, raising a sword and riding a narwhal across the clouds. Somehow this image gives me the courage to explain about Marrant. 

“Pretty sure these were actual memories from . . . before,” I say. “I think this means it’s going to light up soon.” 

“That’s great.” Rachael glances at my face. “Wait. Why isn’t that great?” 

“It is. Except . . . I’ve been waiting and dreaming for so long, and now it’s suddenly a real thing. And . . . what if there’s nothing out there but the evil murder team? What if all the friendly aliens are dead? Or don’t bother to show up?” 

“Huh.” She drives onto the highway and merges into traffic without slowing down. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” 

I close my eyes, and remember that oily voice: You were always doomed to fail. 

“Maybe I can’t do this.” I suck in a deep breath through my teeth. “Maybe I’m just out of my league and I’m going to die. Maybe I’m just not strong enough.” 

Rachael glances at me again, and shrugs. “Maybe,” is all she says. 

She doesn’t talk again for ages. I think this is the “working something out in her own head” silence. 

We make a pit stop at a convenience store, and Rachael pauses in the parking lot. “Remember when you decked Walter Gough for calling me an orca in a smock?” (It wasn’t a smock, it was a nice chemise from Torrid, and Walter deserved worse.) “Remember the great lunch lady war, and that Frito pie costume you wore?” 

I nod. 

“The entire time I’ve known you, people have kept telling you to stop being such an obnoxious pain in the butt,” Rachael says with a gleam in her eye. “But here you are, preparing to put on a ridiculous costume and prank Monday Barker. This is who you are. So . . . if some alien murder team shows up to test you, I feel sorry for them.” 

Rachael smiles at me. Everything suddenly feels extremely heavy and lighter than air, at the same time. 

“Oh my god,” I say. “Can I hug you? I know you don’t always like to be touched, but—” 

Rachael nods, and I pull her into a bear hug. She smells of fancy soap and acetone, and her arms wrap around me super gently. 

Then she lets go of me, and I let go too, and we go to buy some extra-spicy chips and ultra-caffeinated sodas, the perfect fuel for confronting asshattery (ass-millinery?). I keep thinking of what Rachael just said, and a sugar rush spreads throughout my whole body. 

I feel like I almost forgot something massively important, but then my best friend was there to remind me. 

Monday Barker is scheduled to speak at the Lions Club in Islington, and we’re setting up at the park across the street. Bette and Turtle have a glitter mist machine and a big disco ball, and a dozen other people, mostly my age, have brought sparkly decorations. I wander around helping people to figure out the best place to set up, since this “disco party” was sort of my idea. 

“We got this,” says Turtle, buttoning their white suit jacket over a red shirt. “Why don’t you get yourself ready?” They’ve put pink streaks into their hair-swoosh. 

In other words, Stop trying to micromanage everyone. Message received. 

I retreat to Rachael’s car, where I rummage in my knapsack and put on a bright red spangly tuxedo shirt and a big fluffy pink skirt I stole from my mom, plus shoes covered with sequins. 

Rachael sets to work finishing some signs she was making, which are full of rainbows and stars and shiny Day-Glo paint. I pull out the tubes of glitter-goop I brought with me, and she lets me spread some around the edges using a popsicle stick. 

I coax Rachael into telling me about the comic she’s working on right now. “It’s about a group of animals living on a boat. They thought they were getting on Noah’s Ark, but the guy they thought was Noah skipped out on them, and now they’re just stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean alone. There’s a pair of giraffes, and a poly triad of walruses. They have to teach themselves to sail, and maybe they’re going to become pirates who only steal fresh produce. Once I have enough of it, I might put it online.” 

“Hell yeah,” I say. “The world deserves to learn how excellent you are.” 

She just nods and keeps adding more sparkle. 

I wish the bullies hadn’t driven Rachael away from school. She just made too easy a target for ass-millinery: her parents are nudists, she’s a super-introvert who sometimes talks to herself when she gets stressed, and she wears loose rayon clothing to hide all her curves. 

The rich kids, whose parents worked at the tech campus, took her picture and used filters to make her look like an actual dog. Kids “accidentally” tripped her up as she walked into school, or shoved her in the girls’ room. One time, someone dumped a can of coffee grounds from the teacher’s lounge on her head. I tried to protect her, but I couldn’t be there all the time. 

So . . . homeschooling. And me never seeing Rachael during the week anymore. 

Soon there are about twenty of us across the street from the Lions Club, everybody feeding off everyone else’s energy and hoisting Rachael’s glorious awning. And a pro–Monday Barker crowd is already gathered across the street, on the front walk of this old one-story brick meeting hall with flaking paint on its wooden sign. 

A town car pulls up, and Monday Barker gets out, flanked by two beefy men in dark suits holding walkie-talkies. Monday Barker is about my mom’s age, with sideburns enclosing his round face, and a huge crown of upswept hair. He waves in a robotic motion, and his fans scream and freak out. 

Someone on our side fires up a big speaker on wheels, playing old disco music. The handful of cops between us and the Lions Club tense up, but we’re not trying to start anything. We’re just having an impromptu dance party. 

The brick wall of the savings and trust bank seems to shiver. I catch a glimpse of Marrant, the giant with the scary-perfect face and the sneering thin lips, staring at me. 

But I remember what I said to him in that vision: There are victories greater than death. I can see justice coming. And then I think about Rachael saying, If an alien murder team shows up, I feel sorry for them. 

The throbbing grows stronger . . . but Marrant is gone. The brick wall is just a wall again. 

The Monday Barker fans—mostly white boys with bad hair—are chanting something, but I can’t hear them over our music. Rachael and I look at each other and whoop. Someone starts the whole crowd singing along with that song about how we are family. I know, I know. But I get kind of choked up. 

We keep on, chanting disco lyrics and holding hands, until Monday Barker’s supporters vanish inside the Lions Club to listen to their idol explain why girls shouldn’t learn to read. Out here, on the disco side of the line, we all start high-fiving each other and jumping up and down. 

Afterward, we all head to the 23-Hour Coffee Bomb. Turtle, Bette, and the others all go inside the coffee place, but I pause out in the parking lot, with its scenic view of the wind-beaten sign for the Little Darlings strip club. Rachael sees me and hangs back too. 

“I started to get another one of those hallucinations.” I look down at the white gravel. “During the disco party. Snow-white serial killer, staring me down. And this time . . . I faced it. I didn’t get scared. And I could feel the star ball respond to that, like it was powering up.” 

“Hmm.” Rachael turns away from the door and looks at me. “Maybe that’s the key. That’s how you get the rescue beacon to switch on.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah. Makes total sense. When you can confront that scary vision of your past life or whatever, then it proves you’re ready.” She comes closer and reaches out with one hand. “Okay. Let’s do it.” 

“What, now?” 

“Yeah. I want to be here to see this.” She grins. 

I swallow and shiver for a moment, then I clasp her hand and concentrate. Probably better to do this before I lose my nerve, right? 

I remember Marrant and his bottomless dark eyes, and the exploding spaceship, and that curdled blob of helplessness inside me. And I catch sight of him again, striding across the road with his death-cannon raised. The icy feeling grows from my core outward, and I clench my free hand into a fist. 

Then . . . I start to shake. I can actually see the dark tendrils gathering inside that gun barrel. Pure concentrated death. My heart pounds so loud I can’t even think straight. I couldn’t even help Rachael feel safe at Clinton High. How could I possibly be ready to face Marrant? 

“I can’t,” I choke out. “I can’t. I . . . I just can’t.” 

“Okay,” Rachael says. “Doesn’t have to be today, right? But I know you got this. Just think of disco and glitter and the look in Monday Barker’s eyes when he tried so damn hard not to notice us in all our finery.” 

She squeezes my hand tighter. I look down at the ridiculous skirt I’m still wearing. And I focus on the person I am in those visions—the person who can see justice coming, even on the brink of death. That’s who I’ve always wanted to be. 

I’m ready. I know I can do this. 

I growl in my throat, and feel a sympathetic thrumming from the top of my rib cage. 

The parking lot and the strip-club billboard melt away, and I’m once again standing on top of a spaceship, and my free hand is cupped around a warning that we’re about to blow up. The stars whirl around so fast that I get dizzy, and Marrant is aiming his weapon at point-blank range. 

But I can still feel Rachael’s hand wrapped around mine. 

I gather myself together, step forward, and smile. 

I can’t see what happens next, because a white light floods my eyes, so bright it burns. 

Rachael squeezes my hand tighter and says, “Holy bloody hell.” 

A million stars flow out of me, inside a globe the size of a tennis ball. I can only stand to look at them through my fingers, all of these red and blue and yellow lights whirling around, with clouds of gas and comets and pulsars. 

Way more stars than I’ve ever seen in the sky. 

All of my senses feel extra sharp: the burnt-tire smell of the coffee, the whoosh of traffic going past, the jangle of classic rock from inside the café, the tiny rocks under my feet. 

Everybody inside the coffee shop is staring and yelling. I catch Turtle’s eye, and they look freaked out. Rachael has her phone out and is taking as many pictures as she can. 

As soon as the ball leaves my body, it gets bigger, until I can see more of the individual stars. So many tiny hearts of light, I can’t even count. The sphere expands until I’m surrounded. Stars overhead, stars underfoot. This parking lot has become a planetarium. 

I can’t help laughing, yelling, swirling my hands through the star-trails. Feels like I’ve been waiting forever to bathe in this stardust. 

Used with permission from Tor Teen, an imprint of Tom Doherty Associates; a trade division of Macmillan Publishers. Copyright Charlie Jane Anders 2021. 

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Victories Greater Than Death will hit bookshelves on April 14th, 2021. You can find out more about Victories Greater Than Death, including how to pre-order, here.

As a kid, all I wanted was for aliens to show up and take me away from this planet. So I put that dream into a new YA book, #VictoriesGreaterThanDeath. Now there's a brand new pre-order page, with links to all the places! Pre-ordering is awesomely heroic!https://t.co/K9v5vUsiSV

— Charlie Jane Anders *Victories Greater than Death* (@charliejane) November 18, 2020

The post Read an Exclusive Excerpt From Charlie Jane Anders’ YA Debut appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3qk1QwT

[doctorharley-md]

horror renaissance aesthetic edition

Tagged by: (I stole this from @belladoniic c:)

Tagging:  i don’t feel like tagging anyone but do this and then tag me as having tagged u in it so i can read urs pls (also i put it under a read more cause it’s long ur welcome)

the vvitch: the darkness of a cluster of trees. a crackling campfire. the snap of a twig underfoot. the sound of children’s laughter. a sense of kinship with animals. isolation in the wilderness of life. fighting to free yourself from repression. cutting ties with toxic family members. feeling lost, alone, and afraid in the forest of your own emotions. the feeling that something – or someone – is watching you.

it: the refreshing feeling of summer vacation. spending time with your best friends. the feeling that something important is missing from your life. waking from a nightmare in the middle of the night. the sick feeling of missing a step while walking up the stairs in the dark. thinking you see something moving just out of your line of sight. cotton candy. red balloons. a shiver running down your spine.

mother!: a sense of peaceful isolation, relief in solitude. the spike of anxiety upon being thrust into an unfamiliar situation. feeling protective over the things that are yours. a tumultuous turn in a relationship with someone you love. smoke billowing from a roaring fireplace. a thunderstorm raging outside an open window. the gutwrenching sound of a baby crying. your heartbeat pounding in your ears as your blood boils.

annihilation: embarking on a new adventure. the pursuit of knowledge and truth. the discovery of something you don’t quite understand, but want to. something strange and powerful running through your veins. sheer otherworldly beauty. the lump in your throat when you know you’ve done something wrong, and want to make up for it. the aurora borealis. a rainbow across the sky in the wake of a terrible storm.

halloween: a flickering jack-o-lantern on a front porch. distant sirens. being haunted by your past. a constant sense of vigilance. the sound of shattering glass. living like it’s the last night of your life. coming together to protect the people you love. a secret passageway. feeling the need to look over your shoulder as you walk home alone at night. blood staining your clothes.

hereditary: the creeping dread of walking through your house alone in the dark. dark family secrets, buried and then brought to light. strained family relationships. the feeling of something crawling on your skin. fear so suffocating that you struggle to breathe. an eerie light coming in through your bedroom window. losing your head. a heavy depression that threatens to destroy you.

suspiria: a curtain of long hair spread out across a pillow. the comforting touch of a hand against your cheek. a close circle of friends. music that carries you to the point where you just can’t help but dance. the thrill of having accomplished one of your goals. great power hiding behind innocence. straining to try and remember something you’ve forgotten. extending your hand in friendship and solidarity to others.

midsommar: a garden of brightly colored flowers bursting into life. a beautifully embroidered dress. dancing hand in hand. flowers braided into long hair. paint smeared across blank pages. billowing smoke. pristine white cliffs. the feeling of being left out of an inside joke. herbal tea. a close sense of community. letting go of painful memories and toxic relationships and moving forward in happiness.

us: feeling a disconnect with what you see when you look into a mirror. finding catharsis through dance. coping with trauma. hiding secrets from the people you love. fearing rejection. the haunting sight of an empty street. an ominous silhouette against the horizon. the lingering, unwanted connection to someone else. the rush of adrenaline as you run. rabbits. letting your past finally die.

black swan: the tune of the main theme of swan lake played in a music box. fighting and destroying yourself. going too far in order to find perfection in one’s art. a neurotic tendency which effects your mental state. black wings. losing innocence through sexual encounters. the haunting sound of wind instruments imitating the sound of swans. losing yourself through the music. the tragic story of the swan queen.

helter skelter: obsessed with one’s own beauty. feeling like your time is running out. flashing lights from cameras. the sound of the clock ticking. the abuse of drugs that make you unravel. feeling like you’re being forgotten by the world. mirror mirror, on the wall. the ugly reality of plastic surgery. manufactured beauty. a romantic partner that uses you to climb the social latter. the color red. dirty secrets let out by someone you trusted as revenge. disappearing into obscurity.

Sympathy for Lady Vengeance: an angel passing over a quiet dinner. red eyeshadow. being punished for someone else’s crime. getting revenge from the person who hurt you. spiritual transformation during isolation and imprisonment. pure as white snow. taking the blame to save your loved one. promising to never sin. singing happy birthday with a candle-lit cake to ghost children. reuniting with a child. snow falling during the night.