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firstfullmoon · 4 years

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Do you have favorite quotes related about the importance of small details?

“The precious intimacy of little things.”

— Daphné du Maurier, I Will Never Be Young Again

“On my windowsill when I got home, there was a tumbler with pink jelly in it, and embedded in the jelly, sliced strawberries and bananas… [my neighbour] cooks at odd hours. She must have made the strawberry jelly this morning. When I buy baklava, which is not often because I eat too many, I leave a few for her on her windowsill, with a headscarf over them so the wasps don’t come. For these little gifts we don’t thank each other with words. They are commas of care.”

— John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters

“I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that’s really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives, our social lives, we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking. Holding open doors. Offering elbows at crosswalks. Letting someone else go first. Helping with the heavy bags. Reaching what’s too high, or what’s been dropped. Pulling someone back to their feet. Stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog. The alternating merge, also known as the zipper. This caretaking is our default mode and it’s always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise. Always.”

“One of the woman was gently arranging an older woman’s collar beneath her sweater, freeing it from the cardigan’s neck, using both of her hands to jostle it free but also seeming to spend a little more time than necessary, creasing the fold of the collar, the other hand kind of resting on her shoulder, the two of them chatting the whole time, sitting there holding each other, nodding, my head twisting toward them like a sunflower as I finished the stairs and walked by, so in love was I with this common flourish of love, this everyday human light.”

“but her need to share the photo with me [...] smiling and looking at it, smiling and looking at me looking at it, me smiling and looking at her looking at it, which is simply called sharing what we love, what we find beautiful, which is an ethics.”

— Ross Gay, The Book of Delights

“He’s got a fever. He’s all alone. So I’m gonna buy him something to eat.” “The congee downstairs is quite good.” “He doesn’t want congee.” “What does he want?” “Can’t taste anything so he wants sesame syrup.” [...] “What are you cooking?” “I had a sudden craving for sesame syrup.”

“Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.”

— In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

— Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses”

“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”

— Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise

“I’ve never told you this,” she said. “But there’s something about taking the cart back instead of leaving it in the parking lot. I don’t know when this came to me; it was a few years ago. There’s a difference between leaving it where you empty it and taking it back to the front of the store. It’s significant.” “Because somebody has to take them in.” “Yes. And if you know that, and you do it for that one guy, you do something else. You join the world…You move out of your isolation and become universal.”

— Andre Dubus, “Out of the Snow”

“It’s true that, in Vietnamese, we rarely say I love you, and when we do, it is almost always in English. Care and love, for us, are pronounced clearest through service: plucking white hairs, pressing yourself on your son to absorb a plane’s turbulence and, therefore, his fear. Or now—as Lan called to me, “Little Dog, get over here and help me help your mother.” And we knelt on each side of you, rolling out the hardened cords in your upper arms, then down to your wrists, your fingers. For a moment almost too brief to matter, this made sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, made something like the word family.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel

— Ada Limón, from “The Great Blue Heron of Dunbar Road”

“I’m doing a balancing act with a stack of fresh fruit in my basket. I love you. I want us both to eat well.”

— Christopher Citro, from “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled WIth Shrieks”

“One of the primary ways we connect with each other is by eating together. Some of the connection happens simply by being in the same place at the same time and sharing the same food, but we also connect through specific actions, such as serving food to one another or making toasts: ‘May I offer you some potatoes?’ ‘Here’s to your health and happiness.’ Much of our fundamental well-being comes from the basic reassurance that there is a place for us at the table. We belong here. Here we are served and we serve others. Here we give and receive sustenance.”

— Edward Espe Brown, Tomato Blessings and Radish Teaching

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

“Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.”

“it is a serious thing

just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

— Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays / from “Invitation”

— Wendy Cope, “The Orange”

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A4″

“Then there are the things, if you are particularly lucky, that this person has done for you while you’re away: how in the pantry, in the freezer, in the refrigerator will be all the food you like to eat, the scotch you like to drink. There will be the sweater you thought you lost the previous year at the theater, clean and folded and back on its shelf. There will be the shirt with its dangling buttons, but the buttons will be sewn back in place. There will be your mail stacked on one side of his desk; there will be a contract for an advertising campaign you’re going to do in Germany for an Austrian beer, with his notes in the margin to discuss with your lawyer. And there will be no mention of it, and you will know that it was done with genuine pleasure, and you will know that part of the reason—a small part, but a part—you love being in this apartment and in this relationship is because this other person is always making a home for you, and that when you tell him this, he won’t be offended but pleased, and you’ll be glad, because you meant it with gratitude.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

#this is a mim supremacy account #w #compilation #the precious intimacy of little things #john berger #hanya yanagihara #naomi shihab nye #wendy cope #mary oliver #ada limón #ocean vuong #danusha laméris #ross gay

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

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Title: tough luck Pairing: GN! Reader x Suna Rintarou [college au] Genre: domestic fluff and my bad comedy (teeny tiny angst if u squint)

Synopsis: “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.” [this request of suna rintarou + fluff ]

Warnings: minor bad language but thats it Notes:

omg i was finally able to write something fluffy yay! Hshdhdhd the mind- after all that angst. I hope yall enjoy this domestic college au suna hakhak where can i get one of these.

im posting three requests per week (its to help writers block and well, my english in general, they’ll be posted on random days) ill probably limit it to one when school starts though sike currently have four more requests to finish aye.

navigation

Thesis papers be damned.

You might as well burn your group mates to the depths of hell for leaving you to dry these past few weeks. They weren’t even replying to your messages tonight and you were having a mock presentation first thing in the morning.

You aggressively started to mix more cake batter after frosting the cupcakes.

“Baby?” a low voice echoes throughout the quietness of the kitchen, your steely gaze snaps to find your half-awake boyfriend standing there in his sleepwear, his raven hair completely a mess, if it were a normal day, you’d coo and snuggle next to your good-looking man and annoy the fuck out of him but no, you just had to be in a bad mood, “It’s four am, what’s with all the sugar overload?”

“I’m celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and my sanity. Want a cupcake, baby?” a sarcastic grin makes its way to your lips and honestly, despite his deadpan features, Suna was very worried. He had been bugging you these past weeks to stop living in coffee and instant noodles so he decided to crash your place tonight to scold you, cook yourself a hot meal, and smother you to sleep with his hugs but it seemed like it didn’t work at all and you just violently wormed your way out of his grasp.

He slowly made his way to you, eyes half-lidded, and grabbed the rubber spatula from your hands and snuggled his head on your shoulders like a kitten, “Sleep, Y/N. It’s not worth to stress over those shits.” his voice was blank as usual but you knew he meant well.

“Well those shits will be my downfall tomorrow if they can’t answer the panel’s questions.” You spat as you cracked the eggs harshly on the batter and snatched back the rubber spatula from his hand, letting out a loud huff as you continued to mix aggressively.

“Y/N…”

Silence.

“Y/N…”

“Fine.” you grumbled, “Just let me-”

“I’ll clean up.” Suna sighs, grabbing the spatula once again from your hands, “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up at seven am, just in time for your class, right?”

“But i can-”

“Y/N.” Suna narrows his eyes, determined to get the last say between you two.

“Ugh.” You grumbled, shoulders slouched, “six thirty-”

“No, seven am. Your class doesn’t start until nine. You need more rest. No take-backs.”

Giving your boyfriend one last stink-eye, you slowly trudged yourself to the bedroom and just flopped yourself towards the bed. Ah, how bad could this day even get?

You shouldn’t have jinxed it.

You were almost late since the professor had moved the presentation time to eight am, thank god your apartment was near your uni, your boyfriend literally watched you shove the most decent outfit you could find and throw yourself out the door in a hurry. In the midst of the presentation, your stomach started to grumble too since you weren’t able to grab a cracker or your usual bread to go before class.

Even worse, your stink of an eye group mates weren’t able to get their parts right.

You were downright ready to throttle them, thank god that this was just a mock defense.

Your mood doesn’t exactly brighten even after the defense, you sit there and look like those cartoons who had fumes coming out of their ears. After class ended, you decided to bring it up to your professor and he tells you it’s too late to take the names out.

Your mood dampens even more.

Exiting the classroom with a scrunched up feature, you stop to see a very familiar figure standing there holding a brown paper bag and a cup of steaming hot milk on his other.

“Mornin’” Suna quietly greets you as he gives you a light feathery kiss on your cheek.

You blink.

“Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“The professor was absent, he had some staff meeting so I decided to get you a bento box and some milk. Try to avoid coffee for the time being.” Suna explains as he transfers the cup of milk to his other hand so that he could hold your hand, “Let’s have breakfast, Y/N. You don’t have class until another hour, right?”

Before you could protest, your boyfriend drags you to the field and under the shade of a large tree to eat the bento he bought.

Suna quietly listens as you rant on about how annoying and how much you want to throttle your good-for-nothing groupmates, occasionally wiping the little crumbs on the side of your cheek, “...You should take it easy.” Suna simply replies after you finish your rant, “You’ll get a cold if you keep this up.”

“My okaasan will definitely let me live in the cold if I fail a class.” You shiver at the mental image of your mother giving you a sermon. Suna just sighs as he fixes up your trash, he could never argue with you.

“Come,” he stands up and holds out his hand for you again, “I’ll walk you to your next class.”

The sun shines brightly yet your day doesn’t get any better, you had a pop quiz on one of your weakest subjects and you couldn’t even finish the readings since you were too preoccupied with your thesis and your groupmates.

You inwardly let out a groan as you made your way to the library, your phone rings and your brows contort in confusion at the name of your boyfriend. “Hello?”

“How’s class?”

“You’re such a miracle worker.” You sighed, “You always know when to call.”

“That bad?”

“Everything just sucks, ah life feel so shitty these days-” You confessed, scratching your head in annoyance.

“Hey.” He cuts you off, voice dead serious, “It’s just a bad day, Y/N. Don’t worry, we all have these days. How many classes do you still have?”

“Just two.” you huffed out, completely frustrated by how bad your day was going.

“Take a deep breath and drink some water, alright? I’ll see you after class, let's walk home and order some takeout then sleep early alright? My class ends the same time as you today.”

“B-But…” You stop protesting, realizing that Suna would shut down the idea. Saying goodbye to your boyfriend, you take in a deep breath and do as he instructed.

Thankfully nothing major happens on the next subject and as you were about to proceed to your last class, Suna texts you that he has some milk bread on your locker and your favorite banana milk. A small smile made its way to your lips, one more subject and this wretched day was over then you’ll get to snuggle next to your boyfriend.

Again, you shouldn’t have jinxed it.

Someone had accidentally spilled the banana milk you were drinking all over your white shirt along with his cup of mocha drink (which thank god was cold because if it wasn’t, you’d be suffering a burn)

You had to sit through the whole class with the sticky feeling on your chest and that ugly slosh, you really should’ve brought a jacket today.

“Hey baby- jesus christ, Y/N what happened?”

It’s quite hard to gouge a reaction from your boyfriend most of the times but you can’t believe that something as easy as the big ugly slosh of mocha and banana milk stain on your plain white shirt would actually shock him.

You pressed your lip into a tight line, pissed, as you open your arms, “This,” you exclaimed, “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.”

Suna shakes his head at your antic and just takes his sports jacket to place it on your figure, he’s awfully reminded of a Pomeranian when you’re angry but he’d never say that out loud.

Instead he softly grabs your hand and tugs it lightly, your quiet on your way home. He notices that maybe the fatigue is slowly sinking in, so the minute you guys enter your apartment, he urges you to change into your pajamas while he orders take out.

After a quick bite, you lay on top of him and snuggle on his neck, humming an unfamiliar tune as you draw circles on his chest, “Thanks.”

“Hm?’

“For being there.” You hummed, “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if you weren’t my boyfriend. So yeah, thanks...”

Suna feels a small smile make its way to his lips, he doesn’t respond, instead he just kisses your head and lets you lay on his arms, “Hey Y/N…” He paused and when he notices that you’re soundly asleep on his arms, his smile turns wider. i love you, he thinks randomly as he watches you sleep, “Goodnight.” he whispers instead out loud, kissing your forehead again and hugging you into his arms.

#suna rintarou #suna rintaro imagine #suna imagines #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro scenarios #suna fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu boyfriend scenarios #haikyuu x y/n

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Text

Crosswind, Chp.2

A Frankie Morales x OFC love story

Chapter 1

Thanking my loves @songsformonkeys and @heatherbel for the beta and the enthusiasm! <3

She woke to a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she gaped at the stranger in the seat next to her, an inquisitive expression on his handsome face.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he was saying. “Stewardess couldn’t reach. You want something?” He removed his hand from her person, gestured to the trolley where an immaculately dressed attendant waited, trays of snacks in the multi-drawer cart she pushed.

“Oh. Um, thanks,” she told her fellow passenger.

“Blueberry muffin, apple chips, or fresh banana?” the steward asked.

“Chips. Thanks.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Just water, please.”

The stranger requested coffee - black, one sugar, no snack.

The stewardess moved on and Lara noticed the seatbelt light was off. She unstrapped, unplugged her headphones and put her tray table down.

“Thank you for waking me up.”

“No problem.” He had the headset hooked around his neck - a very biteable neck, she noted.

“I’m Lara.”

His gaze flicked to her, and he paused, coffee halfway to his lips. “Francisco.” He took a sip, winced.

She smiled. “Bad?”

“It’s obligatory on aircraft, I think,” he coughed.

They passed the next hour in companionable silence. Eventually the bottle of water hit Lara’s bladder.

“Sorry. I’ve got to get up.”

He nodded, unbothered, stood up to let her out. The top of her head would fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder, Lara noted, and that thought gave her stomach a serious case of butterflies. When she brushed past him, she caught a gasp of his scent - woodsmoke, citrus, clean sweat, coffee.

The bathroom was tiny but clean. Lara looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes could use more sparkle, but her Asia-straight hair was reliably tidy.

Has Francisco noticed?

Her belly tightened and she scoffed at herself.

You can’t just fall in love with every nice-looking man who’s polite to you. She knew her ego was bruised - and that hurt, because she was starting to realise that maybe her heart wasn’t.

She should be more torn up about Drew, but she felt… not a lot.

And that meant - what the heck did she do now?

She flushed, washed her hands, patted her hair for no real reason and returned to her seat. Francisco let her back in, a slight smile ticking up the left side of his mouth. Oh no. That made him hotter.

She did not allow herself to look at his left hand to check for a ring, or a tan line.

She switched on a recently released action flick that required minimal thought. At some point during it she looked around and noticed Francisco had the same thing tuned in on his screen. She glanced over - he slept, his chin resting on his chest. It was kind of endearing.

The trolley came over as the credits rolled on the action film. Lara leaned over and patted Francisco’s thigh to wake him up - it was the easiest part of him within reach.

He jerked away, his hand coming down to clamp over hers, eyes dark and hard as he met her gaze.

She recoiled for a second, scared.

“Shit. Sorry. Sorry,” he murmured, eyes soft now, large in his honey-gold, weathered face. Now he looked so very… tired. “I’m ex-military. Light sleeper. Not used to being touched.” He released her hand as the trolley rolled into view.

Lara recovered. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I am. Thanks. And sorry - really. I swear I’m not the kind of creep who scares women for fun.”

Their gazes held for a moment.

“I believe you,” Lara said softly.

Dinner was mediocre - options of either a beef stew with bread roll or a vegetable pasta bake. Lara and Francisco both opted for beef with a diet soda on the side.

“So,” Lara said at length. “Military?”

“Pilot.”

“Wow.”

“The flying bit is. The military part, well. It’s a long story.”

I have time, Lara almost said, but she bit the words back. They didn’t know each other, and would likely never see each other again after the plane landed.

The stewardess came to collect the empty meals, and now that she’d eaten, tiredness caught up with Lara. It was full dark outside the window now. She started to close it, hesitated.

“Mind if I shut this?”

“Go ahead.”

She unfurled the blanket from under her seat, checked behind her - an empty seat, perfect - reclined herself, and, eventually, slept.

She didn’t dream this time.

*******

The light woke her, along with the dulcet tones of the airplane pilot over the intercom, and the blinking of the overhead seat belt light. The whirr of the landing gear made her sit up.

“We’re here?”

Francisco looked over at her from where he was packing up his headphones. “We’re here.”

Lara pushed her hair out of her face. Wondered if she’d drooled in her sleep. She busied herself with folding the blanket neatly.

“You got far to go?” Francisco asked. His voice still held that wonderful gravelly rasp that made her stomach flip - in a giddy, teenage kind of way.

“No, I’ve got a pick up.”

“Well, then. You have a safe trip.” His gaze held hers for a long moment, and she saw something pass through his eyes - sadness? Wistfulness? - and then the plane stopped, everyone stood up, and the moment was lost forever.

“You, too.”

She waited for the majority of people to disembark at KL airport before she stood up herself. She’d never liked the rush and press, the squeeze of bodies. Her hand luggage came free from the locker easily and the flight crew thanked her as she exchanged pleasantries with them and disembarked.

Francisco stood about six people ahead of her in line for passport control, head bent a little, curls sticking out of his cap, typing something on his phone. A message to his wife? Girlfriend?

Calm down, Lara reminded herself. But she did relent a little and let herself peek at his ass in those ancient jeans.

Great ass.

Figured.

She watched until he’d cleared passport control. The line of his back was quite something in that button-down; it fit him in all the right places.

And then he walked through the gate and out of her life.

The cheery Mr & Mrs Tuthill sign held by the smiley driver at the arrivals gate didn’t make her feel the sudden sadness she expected - more a sort of resigned numbness.

Had choosing to keep her maiden name of Chen for some stuff been a harbinger of her marriage failing?

No, we had so many good years. Didn’t we?

She just needed to escape her own fucking thoughts. For a while.

Wine, she told herself. Hotel, unpack, wine.

“How was your flight?” the driver asked in impeccable English. He wore a loud, oversized Hawaiian print shirt and an earring that glinted in the airport strip lights.

“Fine, thanks. Quiet.”

“Where is.. Mr Tuthill?”

“He won’t be joining us,” Lara said shortly, trying to keep her tone friendly. “Please call me Lara.”

“I am Ashraff.” He reached for her suitcase and she thanked him as he wheeled it to the waiting estate car.

“How far is the hotel?”

“About one and a half hours, Mrs - Lara,” Ashraff replied as he set her case gently in the trunk. “It is the closest one to the Elephant Sanctuary. Are you planning on a visit?”

“Oh, yes.”

Ashraff went to open the back passenger door, but Lara hesitated.

“Um, do you mind if I sit in the front with you? Kinda lonely in the back.”

“Of course.” If he thought she was weird, he didn’t show it.

“I’ve only been separated from my husband a few days,” she explained, settling in and clicking in her seatbelt.

Ashraff flicked a glance at her as he pulled out of the pickup space. “I’m sorry.”

The car AC kicked in and Lara sighed. The heat was more than she’d expected - she’d become used to London and its usually mild or cold climate.

They drove through the built up area of KL in companionable quiet for twenty minutes or so. Ashraff had the radio on, Taylor Swift playing. It was strangely comforting to hear familiar pop music.

“Have you been to the elephant sanctuary before?”

Lara jerked from her reverie. She’d been staring out the window, looking but not seeing, replaying pivotal moments in her marriage. What she could have done differently. If Ally were here, she’d be disgusted.

“No. My cousin runs it - but we’re not close. I’ve been meaning to come out for years, but…”

“Life got in the way?” Ashraff filled in.

“Yeah.”

And for the rest of the car ride, Lara closed her eyes and lost herself in her own thoughts, wondering what else her life had pushed from the path she could have taken.

She would never regret Drew, because he had given her Ally. But this whole time, had she been loving the wrong man?

And if she wasn’t Drew’s wife anymore, who organised lunches and dinners and client events and who kept the family’s schedule running tight -

Then who was she?

*****

Tagging: @thirstworldproblemss @mitchi-c @roxypeanut @holographic-carmen @mrsparknuts @mskitty790 @lackofhonor @ijustlovetoreadalways @cassiopeya81 @rsunflowerks @inlovewithloki16 @joanbushur @littlewingcreates @myoxisbroken @alienprincesspoop @frannyzooey @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @sketchy-britt @jazzelsaur @pedropascalito @keeper0fthestars @filthybookworm @a-seeker-of-imagination @astroboots @abuttoncalledsmalls @autumnleaves1991-blog @10-96dispatcher @liakrichards @einbuergeraufirrwegen @strangelittlenobody @graveyardnails

#frankie morales x ofc #francisco morales fic #triple frontier fic #older ofc

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pianogal · 3 years

Text

Flirting Lessons

Summary: Just as Dan was about to give up on love, Dan becomes Phil's tutor. (University AU)

Word Count: 2k

This phanfic is a gift to @phanetixs from @phandomgiftexchange !! I hope you like it!!

꧁꧂

In an attempt to cheer me up, Pj has offered his vast knowledge in the art of flirting. He's convinced me that a good distraction will occupy my mind. As Pj and I walk down the hallway to the cafeteria, we rehearse this week's lines.

"You're cute, wanna bang?" I say sarcastically.

"C'mon Dan! If you really want to be back in business, you have to take it seriously!" Pj complains.

I know exactly why he urges me to 'get back in business.' Deep down we all know that I haven't gotten over my breakup. Although it's been 4 months, the thought of Charlie churns my stomach. It's not that I miss the guy, it's the way he chose to dump me. It wasn't the typical: "It's not you, It's me." He went ahead and said: "It's definitely you."

I always thought flirting was stupid. And the reason for it is because I really have no idea how to flirt. People make it look so easy, but to me it's worse than math. It's my fault for asking Pj to teach me how to flirt.

The cafeteria is a wide open space filled with round and square tables circulating the area. From the direction of our dorms, the smoothie bar is positioned to our left, right next to a group of fairly attractive college students. Although Pj made me practice my lines, I was not ready to put them in practice.

"Do you remember what to say?" Pj asks.

I look at him and widen my eyes. I realized what little confidence I have in walking up to random guys, let alone flirt. "I think this is a bad idea," I admit.

"No it's not! I say you should walk up to them and ask them to marry you," Pj encourages. Before I could protest, Pj began pushing me towards their direction.

As I walked to my doom, I realized a pair of eyes staring at me. I see Charlie to my right watching as Pj forces me to interact with the group of guys. Pj notices where my attention is and whispers behind my ear, "Show Charlie how much these guys would kill to date you."

Pj stops pushing me just a few feet in front of the group. All 4 guys notice my sudden appearance and look side to side as if silently questioning which of them knew me. I turn back to see Pj heading to the smoothie bar while Charlie patiently waits for my failure to sink in.

"Uh, do you guys take Literature with Professor Starch?" Was the only sentence I could come up with.

Each guy looks at their group before saying anything. The tall brunette on the left answers, "None of us do. Sorry." After his response, they all began to walk the opposite direction of me. I then turn to see Charlie walking towards me while laughing at my misery.

"Did you really think you could find a rebound?" Charlie chuckles.

"Yeah I was hoping to do the same thing you did," I harshly replied.

Charlie straightens his posture so as to stand taller than me. He pushes his dirty blonde hair from his face and relaxes his devious grin. "You wish you could find a rebound like I did," Charlie walks away after saying what I thought to be the worst thing I needed to hear at that moment.

"What the hell happened?" Pj rushes to me while holding his newly purchased strawberry and banana smoothie. "What did that jerk say to you?"

Although Charlie meant nothing to me, his words would always take a toll on me. Probably because he knew exactly what my biggest insecurities are. He used every single one to taunt me. In this case, he made it very clear that I would never be good enough to earn love.

"I need to go. Class starts in 15 minutes and I need to talk to my professor about an assignment," without waiting for her response, I walk away and head to class.

I lied to Pj about speaking to my professor before class started. It was just an excuse to get away from everyone. I needed time to process all the events that went down. I sit on the far end of the room. No one is here yet, but soon enough students will start rolling in.

I feel stupid. I don't want to tell anyone about how I feel because they'll probably think I can't get over a breakup. It's not that I still love Charlie. It's the fact that Charlie dumped me because he wasn't happy with me. 4 months ago, Charlie said he preferred to be single than to be with me.

I loved him and for a while I thought he loved me too. I couldn't understand why someone that loved me would dump me out of nowhere. And I wonder if I wasn't good enough for Charlie, who the hell is going to love me? I'm not attractive, my personality sucks, I'm not outstanding in any way, and I don't even have my shit together.

"Is this seat taken?" A tall, well built guy broke me away from my train of thought. I look at him for a second to take in his completion. Fair skin, black hair to match with his pair of blue eyes. He wears a plain white t-shirt along with black jeans. I stopped myself from drooling.

I look down at the seat and look back to his eyes. It's been two weeks since class started. The only person who sat next to me dropped out the second day of class. With a sly smile, I say, "Nope, you can sit here."

"Thank you," he smiles back. He pulls the chair away from the table and relaxes into his new seat, "My name is Philip, but you can call me Phil. I've been absent for the past few weeks due to illness. Have I missed anything important?"

"Well, uh… I’m Dan." I'm dumbfounded. I couldn't believe how someone this attractive is sitting next to me. Then again, I'm sure the only reason he's hanging out is just to pass the class. Even so, I already failed flirting this morning. I was not planning at all to fail again.

"We had several assignments due each week, but they're not worth much. Probably ten points each. Maybe if you talk to Professor Starch he can give you an extension for them," I smile politely once more.

Phil sighs and leans back into his chair. Our gazes turn over to Professor Starch waltzing into the classrooms as he hurriedly reaches his desk. He logs on to the monitor and turns on the projector screen. I steer my attention away from our Professor and redirect it to my notes to hide my face. As much as I'd love to get to know Phil more, I can't stand but feel like it's a waste of his time to speak to me.

"Good afternoon everyone!" Professor Starch greets. "I hope everyone is doing well. I apologize for being late, I was deciding if I wanted to come to work today." Light chuckles fill the room. "Today we will be discussing ‘Don Quijote.’"

As I flipped through my notes, Phil lays his hand on my wrist. I look over to see him staring straight at me. "I know this is sudden, but do you think after class we can meet up and go over what I've missed?"

I really want to, but I don't know how Pj would feel if I bailed out our study session for a cute guy. "I don't know if I can after class. But I'm sure if you talk to the professor he'd be cool. He's really nice and-"

Phil moves closer to me and says, "I don’t have anyone else who can help. Can we please meet after class, Dan?"

"Of course," I immediately reply.

I have absolutely no idea why those words came out of my mouth. It is almost as if I had no control on what I said. I didn't even think about my answer. I realized my eyes are still trained on Phil. I can feel my face heating up and quickly look away. I didn't want him to think I was desperate to meet with him. There goes my last bit of dignity.

"I really appreciate your help, Dan," he smirks and turns to look at what Professor Starch has written on the board.

I sigh and reply, "No problem."

꧁꧂

"The reason Don Quijote turns into a knight is because..." It's been an hour of nonstop tutoring. Although I'm grateful for the view, it is time consuming to be teaching two weeks worth of Literature.

"Because of the books he’s read?" Phil almost asks.

"Yep! We just have to finish chapter five and then you'll be all caught up," I say to him, but also with the intent of reassuring myself.

We are seated in the right corner of Amy's Baking Company. We chose this spot because it's quiet and has comfy chairs. Not many people are here today. A couple of students spread across the Bakery, but other than that, it's pretty dead today.

"Do you mind if we take a little break," Phil asks.

"Yeah sure," I was hoping he'd feel as tired as I was. I close my notebook and focus on my new assignment that popped up on my computer screen.

"Tell me about yourself," Phil speaks up. I stare at him for a second. I'm trying to decide if there's any possible chance that Phil could be interested in me. Now I think about all the things I could say to sell myself.

"Well, I'm 20, I'm in my sophomore year, I'm a Political Science major and..." How do I make a move?

"And?" Phil leans forward against the table, as if intrigued by what my last response could be.

"I'm single…” My response of the year.

Phil chuckles. I couldn't read him at all. I wasn't sure if he was ready to walk out the door and drop out of class or go along with my answer/question. I thought I'd had enough earlier, but I guess I came back for round 2.

"I'm 24, I took a gap year to figure out what I wanted to study. I'm now an English major and I'm single too," he then winks and smirks at me. "Why are you single?"

"I'm not good at flirting," I admit. "What about you?"

"No reason," he says without blinking.

"Why not?" I press for more information.

"There’s no one that interests me,” Phil deadpans.

"That sucks," is the only thing I could muster. By this point, I couldn't look at him directly. I tried to avoid his gaze by looking at my laptop's screen.

Part of me was hoping Phil would ask me out. Guys never ask me out for anything. The fact that Phil wanted to study with me after class is news to me. Curiosity washed over me. I want to know why he wasn’t interested in anyone.

"How come?" I ask, now returning my full attention to Phil.

Phil then tilts his head. I suppose my question must've caught him off guard. "Well, you don’t know how to flirt.”

“That I… what?” I ask.

“I’m not interested in you yet because you haven’t flirted with me,” Phil smirks.

My eyes widened. I feel my cheeks heat up once more. “Why would I flirt with you?”

“I guess I thought you liked me,” he smiles cheekily.

“What makes you think that?” I ask while my cheeks readen.

“Just a hunch.”

I sigh and say, “You seem to like me then.”

"Tell you what," Phil pulls out his cell and unlocks it. He hands me over his phone with the 'New Contact' screen laid out. "Let's exchange phone numbers. When you learn how to flirt, give me a call."

“For what reason would I tell you?” I ask knowing his response.

“So you can ask me out,” Phil stands from his seat and winks before he turns and leaves the bakery. I suppose I’ll have to beg Pj for more lessons.

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nattspencer · 4 years

Text

In case of boredom - Part 1

Missy x reader

Part 1 (you’re here) / Part 2 / Part 3 - Complete

Summary: The reader was always intrigued by the Time Lady. When she jumps into the TARDIS, the readers decided to write a little novel to take her out of boredom, putting little annoying riddles as a password to each file.

A/N: English is not my first language, I’m really sorry for any mistakes. Also, this is my first fanfic here, so please be kind. I already have a part two in mind for this, let me know if you want it.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.9k

The GIF is not mine

Sometimes you think your major problem is having too much empathy and caring so much for other people. You can’t just see someone feeling miserable and not try to do anything to cheer them up, even if this means just standing beside them, however, despite your best intentions, it often ends up hurting yourself, since you always internalize some of their issues. This wasn’t any different when a intergalactic murder time lady started traveling with you, Bill, Nardole and The Doctor.

You had analyzed Missy since the first time you entered the vault with Mr. Eyebrows - you definitely adore calling him that way, the eyebrows always grows frowny proving your point right - primarily, it was just part of your hobby, you loved study people’s personalities - it always helped to create amazing characters for your tales - but there was something about her, something that scary and attractive at the same time and you never were so intrigued. Slowly, piece by piece, observing from a distance every single detail about her, you started to finally understand bits of what's going on under those pale blue eyes.

The memory of Nardole’s panicked face when he saw Missy sitting comfortably on the TARDIS after your meet with the ninth legion flashed in your brain and it still makes you giggle, it wasn’t supposed to be funny, you were kinda scared in the moment as well, but his reaction and protests were really hilarious. Bill also tried to complain when she found out that the Time Lady would become a regular in the police box, but The Doctor promised that Missy wouldn’t kill any of you, and also the ship needed maintenance.

As time passed by, you couldn’t agree more with the Time Lady’s words, she was as much a prisoner here as she was on the vault, and defitinaly as lonely too. Missy spent hours immersed in maintenance work while you all rushed throughout the universe in inimaginable adventures, and when the TARDIS finally fills up again, none of you dare to initiate a friendly conversation with her or even just be alone in her presence, too afraid of her impressibility. Nonetheless, the intriguing mocking smile never left her lips, always ready to toy with any of you, and without a doubt, always ready to annoy the Time Lord. No one would dare to say, but all of you loved to see her messing with Mr. Eyebrows.

“Head in the clouds?” Bill asked sitting on your side, in the stairs of the console room.

“Kinda, was it that obvious?” You just hoped not to be a weirdo for too long.

“Looking at a random spot in the ground for hm… fifteen minutes? Yeah, very obvious, and knowing your eyes, you would probably stay like that for some hours”

“Sorry, sometimes I just wonder off, you know” You smiled shyly.

“I do” She smiled back “I also know that your best histories comes out when you are like this, and believe me, I would let you wander off for hours just to read whatever you would write, but a certain Time Lady was starting to stare at you way too much, so I had to save my beautiful writer from weeks of mocking”

“Oh, you are really my hero” You gave her an exaggerated hug that made you both lay down on the stairs, laughing.

“Nothing is for free sweetie, I want a new tale on my table by tomorrow” She teased.

“As you wish ma’am” You did a floppy continence to her order, and then, an idea crossed your mind.

“Are you okay?” She asked when you got suddenly serious.

“I think I just found a solution for something”

“What something?”

“You’ll see” You answer simply.

“Just stay out of trouble little girl” She talked with a warning voice.

“Considering where we are and who we travel with, I don’t think that would be rather possible”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right” She admitted with a little chuckle while she stood up “I'm going to bed, try to go sleep soon as well, it was a tiring day”

“I’ll do my best, boss” She just showed you her tongue and left the room with a smile still dancing between her lips.

Books! Missy was always reading something to try free herself from boredom, it wasn’t unusual to find some bloody murder mystery novel around her, so the thought came to your mind, maybe, just maybe, you could try to help her through the characters, encourage her to be good and, with some luck, write something that she would really get excited about. Howbeit, you know it wouldn’t be so easy, the plot needed to be tricky, mysterious, unpredictable, and also, you needed her to wait between chapters while you write them - patience was definitely not among her qualities and because of it, she could get bored really easily - so why not put a password in the each file, leaving a little riddle for her to find out? That could be fun.

A week or so of planning and plotting has passed away and you started writing, thankfully it didn’t take long before two chapters were brought into life, although, you wanted to make sure that she was into your thread before finishing it all, so you began to ponder how to set the perfect bait. You waited until Missy and the Time Lord started their regular argument about some alien knowledge to sneak into the ship, fully aware that they would be busy for some hours and you wouldn’t get caught, you took one of the library's laptops and place it right in the middle of the central reading table, quickly transferring your files to the computer’s main workspace, aside it, you put a little printed note sticked to the screen with the words: In case of boredom. You knew it would trigger her curiosity, now you just have to wait.

Hours later, when you came back from another intergalactical adventure, you innocently decided to pick a book from the library just for the sake of bed entertainment, of course, and you glanced a little hand write on your sticked note: Pick harder riddles next time. She definitely was on it, and you almost couldn’t hide a little victorious smile crawling to your lips. You kept feeding her with new chapters almost every day with the same strategy, waiting for her to get distracted before you sneak into the place and every single night, after you write, you stood up for hours in front of the computer trying to come up with an even harder riddle. Were in one of these nights that you suddenly realized, nothing would be more challenging for her than riddles about earth’s history, she probably didn’t bother in researching any of it before since Missy despised the planet. It was perfect, and it actually worked.

Surely, even a terrestrial would have some problem solving your last one ’when the never setting sun empire had to apologize to the biggest lazio’s last flower’ but you didn’t expect to see one of the last of the Time Lords spend a whole three days in just one riddle. You could see by the little popped vein in her forehead how irritated she was for not finding the answer, however you didn’t dare to tease her about it or even talk about it at all, just allowed yourself to sense the little rewarding feeling taking over your chest.

On the fourth night, when you were walking towards your bedroom, after checking the Time Lady’s progress, you suddenly felt two arms smashing your body painfully against the corridor walls, and you didn’t have to look to know who it was, actually you were quite expecting this.

“What is the answer?” Missy demanded with furious eyes and an arm crushing your chest to the wall.

“Gave up already?” You don’t know where your courage was coming from.

“If I were you, I would turn all the mocking down, kitten, I’ve killed for much less than that” She placed a hand in your face roughly rubbing your cheek.

“You wouldn’t kill me”

“Why not? Did you forget? I’m bananas” She said very close to your face singing the last word.

“You wouldn’t do it because you’re too into the story to let it go, too curious, but also too stubborn to ask for a tip from a insignificant little human, especially a tip from the history of a equally insignificant planet, so all your ego allowed you to do was pin me to a wall and demand for a answer, that was the only way you would get what you want and still be in command” Her grip loosened a little bit, and you could see a hint of shock on her beautiful ice eyes, probably no one has ever read her like that “Or I’m just wrong and you’re bananas, of course” You smiled “Either way, I’m willing to give you a tip: Lazio is a italian region, its name refers to the latins, people from whom the Romans descended. Romans in its turn, had Latin as their official language and the vulgar version of it originated tons of others languages, the most recent creation, as people believe, is Portuguese, witch the largest speaking country is Brazil, also, last lazio’s flower is a metaphor used by a important brazilian writer, Olavo Bilac, in one of his famous poems to refers to his mother tongue”

“And how the hell I was supposed to know that?” Her teeth were clenched and her fingers were pressing your own jaw, not being gentle at all.

“You weren’t, that’s rather the point dear, but before you throw all your anger in tiny little me, you were the one who asked for harder riddles, and all the information were on the internet, you just needed to find the right track”

“That’s not harder, that’s just insignificant knowledge” She growned.

“I know, but that was the only area that I probably would had a little more knowledge then you, so why not take it as a learning opportunity?” Your heart was pumping on your chest, and the adrenaline was present all over your body. Suddenly, she redrew her hands from you.

“You’re interesting, pet, I’ll play your little game, but you better keep it high level, I get bored pretty easily you know, and you wouldn’t enjoy to talk with me like this when I’m not captivated, you might get kinda too dead”

“I do acknowledge your facility in get bored, Mistress, had this in mind since day one”

“Don’t get too arrogant, puppet, you don’t know so much of little old me as you might think”

“Or you’re too used to be the attention focus to realize that someone, in the corner, is actually observing and analysing you”

“Am I this important to you kitty cat? The Doctor might get a bit jealous” She raised a eyebrow teasefully.

“You’re intriguing, Missy, and as you can see, I love intriguing people, always a good inspiration to my characters”

“So you might want get a closer look” A smirk was growing in her lips as she got closer.

“I would, if you hadn’t a research to make, you’re four days late” You said as you placed your forefinger in her lips, pushing her back.

“You escaped this time baby girl, lets see for how long” the mischief was playing in her eyes.

“You might be a good flirt, but so am I” You winked at her and started to walk calmly to your previous destination.

“This will be definitely fun” Soon you heard her heels clicking quickly towards the library.

#missy x reader #missy/reader #missy doctor who x reader #the master x reader

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exeggcute · 4 years

Note

Would you mind elaborating on your job search experience? I found your sankey chart really interesting and informative!!

Did you get something related to your degree?

In my experience most job applications I hear back from turn out to be spam or BS. Which is SUPER exhausting and SUPER disheartening. What are some warning signs you have learned to look out for that something is sketchy or exploitative or scammy?? Thanks for anything you’re willing to share 🥺

yeah for sure! I'm glad you liked the chart, tracking my job applications in a spreadsheet finally paid off lol.

I may be a bit of an outlier in the typical millennial experience of Job Search Hell (at least this time around) because I finally managed to get a foothold in my field and have pretty concrete experience for a specific job title that (1) has consistent hiring demand, albeit with a fair amount of competition among candidates and (2) was already remote-friendly prior to the pandemic so it's somewhat easier to scour job listings when you aren't restricted to your immediate geographic location. (granted, the wider selection of remote roles to choose from is somewhat offset by the fact that everyone else in the applicant pool is also unrestricted by location, so you have more choices but also more competition. the ratio likely evens out overall). I exclusively applied to (or considered) remote roles, but there's a handful of on-site jobs in my area (at least in the Before Times)—though those only crop up sporadically and are also hypercompetitive.

for context, my 2018-2019 job search (immediately after graduating college) spanned nine miserable months, although not continuously; I had three separate false starts where I quit a shitty internship, quit a shitty online job, and got fired from an in-person job, but over the course of those nine months I probably sent in like four hundred applications total and had about a dozen interviews, most of which were fucking bananas. nearly all of these job applications were for in-person roles, and I was applying for stuff pretty much at random—unlike this last time around, when every single job I applied to (or was approached to consider) either had the same title as my last role or was functionally identical in terms of job duties but had a slightly different name. all of this is *related* to my degree, broadly speaking, but in practice almost nothing I studied in college applies directly to my job. it's a weird situation because you can technically major in this exact field (or enroll in certification programs for it) but very few people do. having SOME kind of degree is pretty much a requirement (undergrad at a minimum, grad school is nice but not necessary unless you're really specialized), but having a BA in english or communication is about as common as having a BS in comp sci or engineering. (literature major here.) the preference for a BA or BS varies between company and specific sub-industry (more specialized roles generally prefer people who have a degree in that particular area), but once you have a few years of experience under your belt people stop caring for the most part.

getting my foot in the door with experience was 100% the most difficult part of this—and honestly, was the main differentiating factor between this job search and the last. I did have some pre-graduation job experience that I was able to leverage at the end of my nine-month search that landed me my last job, but I didn't figure that out until way too late in the game. it's not a one-to-one analogue with what I do now, but it was close enough that I figured out ways to classify it as relevant experience and boost my "years doing X role" number from 0 to Not Zero. (the "you need experience to get experience" paradox is only solved by a bit of creative reframing, lol.) once I had that purported experience under my belt, I was able to get a job that gave me actual tangible experience, which blows the whole thing wide open on future job search cycles.

which is all to say: there's nothing wrong with twisting things a bit for your benefit, so long as it's not something that'll bite you in the ass later. reframing particular skills or experience to suit a potential role is a workable strategy as long as you know you're actually capable of doing the things that role requires. don't lie about knowing how to build rockets if you’re applying to a job at NASA.

the spam shit is way too common with job applications these days, whether it's outright fake listings or vaguely scummy shit masquerading as a cool place to work. specific red flags vary, but some things I look out for:

job listings that don't clearly name the company you'll be working for. exceptions obviously apply, like if you apply through a specialized job board or staffing site that anonymizes its clients, but if a listing just says it's an "exciting opportunity" or "fun workplace," it's probably not. if there is a name, google it.

check out glassdoor ratings from past employees. if a place has a really shitty rating or reviews that consistently mention egregious shit in the workplace, you're better off saving the effort. certain places will also have ratings from applicants and interviewees, which might give you more insight into whether it's worth looking into.

anything that requires you to pay the employer for the privilege of working there.

for writing gigs specifically: any freelance gig that requires you to submit fully-completed work but doesn't guarantee that they'll pay you for each submission, only the ones they approve, and you won't know if it's approved until after you already wrote it. content mills suck across the board but these are the worst of the worst.

general corporate bullshit speak like "work hard, play hard," "fast-paced environments" where you "learn on the job," any indication that you'll "always be in a working mindset" or that "you're never truly off the job," or job listings that make it sound like you'll be doing completely random things on any given day with no consistent job duties.

any place that lists "free coffee" under a list of employee benefits. it doesn't sound like a big deal, but I swear it's a huge red flag... if cheap instant coffee is their best shot at convincing you it's a good place to work, it's gonna be a nightmare.

#sorry this was WAY longer than I expected it to be #also if you're searching right now best of luck!!!

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annafm · 4 years

Text

(MEDALION RAHIMI, NONBINARY) - Have you seen ANNABEL MAJIDI? ANNA is in HER/THEIR JUNIOR year. The LITERATURE + INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM MAJOR is 22 years old & is a SCORPIO. People say SHE/THEY are DILIGENT, ADROIT, CYNICAL and AUSTERE. Rumors say they’re a member of WINTHROP. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY ARE FAKING BEING A PSYCHIC. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

hllo this is anna i hvnt .. played her in a while <3 bt thts okay i think she is very fun 2 play bt like in the way tht she is <3 serious n mean a bit ... bt its okay .. LHKDSGFHLKSDHLKG im sorry this is long this is. an old intro i hvnt rly changed much >.>

CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY TW

aesthetic.

falling feathers darkened at the tips, tweed and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, worn jackets and awkwardly cut t-shirts, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

basic.

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (father only), anna-banana (father only)

b.o.d. - october 31st, 1997

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the minefield, etc.

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

favorite song: you’re dead, norma tanega / now, your hope and compassion is gone / you’ve sold out your dream to the world / stay dead, stay dead, stay dead / you’re dead and outta this world

background.

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to attend yates for their reputation despite her hatred for pretentious schools (very ironic because she herself is pretentious) & also. she had a scholarship <3 so.

in the midst of writing her first book that’s based heavily on her experiences as a low income student at a private school but like. she’s side-eying all these societies and seeing a Big Money Grab if she were to. write abt them instead

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors & still tends to barge her way into theatre rehearsals to <3 give her unwarranted opinion

personality & facts.

she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain - took advantage of the archery club at her private school. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

wanted connections.

who do u think i am ;; either uh. people who have seen her around campus being a bit of a freak like <3 kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage <3 or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat near her so she could pet it <3 or having a that’s so raven moment <3 or someone who tried to help her out with something and she was like. excuse me. what the fuck. get away from me freak loser. maybe threatened them.

slowburn but make it evil ;; uh. when i played her as older she hd a plot where she <3 ws engaged n then broke it off bcos her fiance cheated <3 so i wld like another. plot where she actually <3 tries to enjoy someone else’s company and presence and it just ends up hurting her n reaffirming her idea tht love is? fake n dumb n stupid. thank u.

ykno ... a little dash of spice ... ;; uh. yknow just hookups. hateships <3 or they never talk abt what happened <3 or an awkward drunk one night stand <3 maybe a pregnancy scare and shes like Ah. motherhood Scares me. because she <3 hates her own mother <3 LDSLKFHLGSHLK. it leaves their relationship rly weird the whole ordeal ... maybe even just a blind date <3 or someone she ghosted

read my future ;; customers very classic uh. just people who come to her for her psychic readings <3 and her uh. talking to the dead <3 but also alternately. skeptics ?? people suspicious of her ?? very epic.

like actually Die? ;; enemies. she hates them so bad. maybe its one-sided. maybe theyre an annoyance. maybe she annoys them? very bad not very good.

and we dance dance dance, dance dance dance <3 ;; this is just. fr ballet students. or, hold up, consider this: someone who recognizes her frm this. very tragic event where she cld no longer b a ballerina bc i think it ws. like not the Biggest deal bt if ur muse ran in private school circles ykno ??

pet the feral cat ;; these r the soft <3 normal connections <3 someone she’s soft for / protective of. friends that she doesn’t completely hate.

i Do Not Know ;; i will. take anything. please. weed dealers, people she’s totally sus about for no reason. she steals and reads their mail. they have been rivals for years. they hv a special bond. they r strangers but they get stuck in an elevator. she’s tutoring them bt she wont let them take a break n she keeps making them recite fucking. shakespeare. anything is sexy and fun n cool

#yatesintro #car accident tw #injury tw #ptsd tw

9 notes · View notes

kim-seungmine · 5 years

Text

love you right

title: love you right

characters : reader x seo changbin of stray kids (ft. yang jeongin)

genres: angst, i wouldn’t call this fluff but this is sweet, soulmate au, roommate au, filmmaker!changbin.

synopsis: have you ever wondered whether your soulmate would still love you if you weren’t destined to be together? because in a world where everyone has someone who’s meant for them, what matters isn’t finding them, but what happens next.

warnings: cursing

word count: 6969

a/n: I FINALLY finished this! It turned out to be shorter than my expectation but i think it’s still okay. After 1000 words or so I just realized that Changbin’s “If” probably inspired me. like i said before, i’m pretty sure i broke like 10 rules of soulmate au so please forgive me.

The sound of shutters is accompanied by the audience’s cheers. You take a glance at the television, watching the artist in spotlight bow deeply. You feel Jeongin’s eyes on you before averting your gaze back to the customer in front of you. “Here’s the change. Thank you for coming!” you exclaim, seeing Jeongin frantically looking for the TV remote from your peripheral vision.

“We’ve been waiting for this one since last year, and he’s finally back with a full album. Let’s welcome, Bang Chan!”

“First of all, Chan, congratulations on your wedding!” the MC chirps and Chan blushes. “We were all shocked when you told everyone you’re married last week. Mind to share how you met your soulmate?”

Jeongin is mouthing profanities now, opening the drawers as quiet as possible. You, meanwhile, are glued to the screen. “I’d rather not talk about this at a public event, so I’ll keep this brief. I met my soulmate during a party, and then the timer on my wrist stopped. That’s when I knew,” he shares.

“Go to hell,” Jeongin spites as he finally finds the remote and shuts the television off. “Don’t watch this shit.”

“It’s okay. It’s how things are supposed to be,” you respond flatly. Your best friend points at your fingers, which are balled into fists without you realizing. “I’m fine!” you convince him. “In fact, I’m glad I don’t have to see that goddamn timer ticking anymore. And going on dates in secret was such a pain in the ass.”

Throughout your 1-year relationship with Chan, you never felt at ease. Movies and novels always make having soulmates seem like something beautiful, but in fact, it’s a headache. Everyone in the whole world has different soulmate things. Some are color blind until they meet their soulmate, some has timers like Chan’s and some others have the first words their soulmates say to them inked on their arms. It can take someone years before they find their special one, and when they do, they’re willing to do anything to be with that person.

Technically, it wasn’t Chan fault that he left you for his soulmate, but everytime you recall the time he broke up with you, your blood boils.

All the beautiful memories, all the struggles you had overcome… everything meant nothing.

“Changbin’s coming in a minute,” Jeongin informs. “Have you thought about it yet?”

When you asked Jeongin to find you a quiet and responsible roommate, you didn’t mean Seo Changbin. It’s not that you two don’t get along, but Changbin has a tendency to be very snarky towards you and it’s kind of annoying (and intimidating, but you will never admit that). College and part-time job have made you tired enough, you don’t need to deal with a scowling Changbin and his sharp mouth when you get home. What surprises you more, however, is the fact that the boy approves of you.

“Don’t think too much,” Jeongin says as he wipes the counter table. “You want a quiet and responsible roommate, plus you don’t have to pay as much as you do now. Changbin fulfills both of your conditions, what else could you ask for?”

You put the last cheesecake inside the display counter, loving how fluffy and cheesy it looks. It also happens Changbin’s favorite menu, though he doesn’t strike you as someone who would love cheesecake. Great, out of all things, that’s what you remember about him? “What are Changbin’s conditions then?”

Someone enters the café, ending your conversation with Jeongin who quickly dashes back to his station, but not before whispering, “He just wants you.”

“Jeongin-ah I’m hungry!”

There’s still an hour before closing time, but all the customers have left and now there’s only Changbin on the table near the window, brainstorming for his screenplay. You heave a sigh and takes out a plate from the drawer. You’re the barista for today, why does he pretend like you don’t exist?

You put the plate on the table and ring the bell, causing Changbin to look up from his notebook. “Oh, it’s you, Y/N.” He gets up from his seat, approaching the counter while opening his wallet. “What do you want to eat?”

Changbin examines the display counter, frowning as he browses through the available menus. You notice him panicking a bit as he scans the second row. “I’ll take—”

“It’s okay,” you mutter. “Take your time. I won’t rush you.”

He slowly nods, continuing to read the cakes’ labels one by one before settling on his favorite menu.

“Are you sure you want me as your roommate?” you ask, putting the last slice of cheesecake on the plate. Changbin looks almost flustered, and you feel a bit proud of yourself. He always seems to be very in control of every aspect of his life, so seeing him a bit taken aback because of you feels satisfying.

Changbin starts slicing his cake, not bothering to return to his table. “I mean, why not?” he says. “I know you already and if Jeongin decides that you’re not crazy, then I believe him.”

“You feel that you know… me?”

He shrugs, lifting his eyebrows at the younger boy as the latter comes out from the pantry. “You’re Jeongin’s best friend, an English major, and he said you’re never late for anything—especially rent.”

“You hate morning shifts!” Jeongin shouts.

“You ranked first in your batch, right?” Changbin continues.

“Y/N hates bananas.”

“You love pizza—wait what you hate bananas?”

“I don’t hate them but bananas are definitely my least favorite.”

“Whoa that’s amazing.”

Changbin goes on to list everything he knows about you with Jeongin’s help, sometimes correcting each other although you’re still with them. You get to see Seo Changbin giggling for the first time, and maybe you want to see it more often.

“When are you going to move in?” he asks after helping Jeongin clean the tables. He’s back to the cool, almost cold Changbin, but you tell yourself to take the risk.

“How about this weekend?”

“Awesome.”

You plop yourself onto your bed, staring at the ceiling of your room that used to be Jeongin’s. It’s Saturday, but all you can think about is your reading assignment and other tasks. Changbin knocks on the slightly ajar door, carefully peeking inside.

“I ordered dinner,” he informs. “It’ll be here soon.”

It’s only been a few hours, but so far Changbin is much better than your old roommate. He helped you unpack quietly (he did make some hurtful comments about your dreamcatcher collection, but you could handle it), gave a space for your cactuses in the living room, and let you decide the menu for dinner.

The bell rings soon after, and now both of you are enjoying a pot of kimchi jjigae. “Are you sad that Jeongin’s not here anymore?” you attempt to start a conversation. Changbin snorts, glancing around the flat. “I’m glad he’s not here anymore,” he answers in a fake mocking tone. “He always wakes me up too early.”

You nod, remembering the painful memory that is your school retreat back in fifth grade. Jeongin was the dorm leader and he forced everyone to sleep early only to wake all of you an hour earlier. “I hope his soulmate will be able to live with that,” you laugh.

Changbin’s ears perk up at the word soulmate, clearing his throat as you look at him in confusion. “You’re still here,” you point out. “I figure you haven’t met your soulmate yet?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, slurping his soup in one go. Love is probably too lame for Changbin, and while you’re never really obsessed in finding your true love yourself, his response makes you feel like someone pricks your heart with a needle. “Never really tried looking for them, to be honest. How about you?”

“You mean, do I want to find my soulmate?

Changbin places his bowl back to the table, his lips a bit red due to the spicy soup, and you almost want to laugh. “The idea of having a soulmate is beautiful, I suppose,” you answer. “But I’m fine with the way things are now, it’s not like I’m desperate or something. We’re still young anyways.”

“Do you believe in it? That there’s someone in this world who’s specially meant for you and only you?”

His question intrigue your interest; you’ve never met someone who’s doubting the concept of soulmates. But then again, this is Changbin. He’s the only person you know who has never asked about your soulmate bond. “Well, people do meet their soulmates, don’t they? I guess I’ve never had a chance to doubt it, because it’s there. People have soulmates, it happens.”

“There’s one thing that’s been bothering me for quite a while, though,” you add. Changbin sits up straighter at your statement, and suddenly you wonder if it’s a good idea to tell him. You never share this with anyone—not even Jeongin—because you don’t want to be such a killjoy. Besides, you know how their reaction will be: they’ll think you’re a pathetic pessimist who probably will never meet your soulmate.

“You can trust me.” His voice sounds light, but the weight in his words feel real. Changbin flashes you one of his rare smiles (you’re pretty sure you saw it on his birthday last year) and you gain a surge of confidence.

“Do couples simply love each other because they’re soulmates?” Your voice is almost a whisper, but Changbin raises his eyebrow, encouraging you to continue. “Having opinion is not a crime, Y/N. What are you so afraid for?” he deadpans, but his gaze remains warm and it kind of messes with your whole system.

“I mean, a lot of us date other people before meeting our soulmates,” you continue. “It’s like, you have feelings for one person, but all of those feelings vanish just like that when you meet your soulmates. How is that possible? Are you being with your soulmate because you love them? Or do you love them simply because they’re your soulmate?”

You’re met with silence as Changbin only stares at you in… awe? That’s probably not it but you swear to God his eyes twinkle, boring into yours and making you blush due to the intensity. You almost feel disappointed when he tears his eyes away from you before gathering the empty plates.

“Let me wash the dishes tonight. This is your housewarming gift,” he mumbles, heading to the sink. You watch his back in silence, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his humming and the water. As you’re about to close your eyes, he looks over his shoulder.

“What’s your soulmate thing?” he asks.

“Soulmate thing?”

“Shit, I forgot the term—the one sign that makes you realize that you’ve met your soulmate.”

You give him a sleepy smile, closing your eyes when he starts humming again. Gotta ask what that song is later.

“Once my soulmate tells me they love me, I’ll stop having nightmares.”

You want to ask Changbin what his soulmate bond is, but sleep has taken over you before you can voice it out.

What Seo Changbin knows about the world is the fact that nothing is certain. Sure, the Sun rises in the East and the Earth is round, but what about the other things? The human beings? He’s seen so many people walked out of his life, he’s witnessed the most hurtful lies and changes.

Changbin has seen enough to know that trust is overrated. You can’t trust anyone, not even your loyal pet. What happened last night, though, was beyond his imagination. Him telling you that you could trust him?

He was so close to take back what he said, but seeing the tiny sparks of hope and confidence in your eyes made his heart do somersaults. God, if only you knew how much power you have over him…

“It’s barely 10AM and you’re already being productive.” Your voice greets him, snapping him out of his daydream. “What are you working on?” you ask, pouring fresh milk into your glass. Changbin collects all his papers as you sit beside him.

“Sorry for all the mess,” he apologizes. “Jeongin and I never used this table so I always work here.”

You shake your head, glancing at his laptop screen before suddenly pulling away, as if you just did something inappropriate. “No, it’s okay, you can see,” he quickly says, sliding his laptop to you. Changbin suddenly recalls all the moments he shoved Jeongin away because he hates it when people read his stuff before it’s finished.

You’ve been here for less than 2 days but he’s already breaking so many of his own rules.

“Yeah. My graduation project. My ride or die.”

Changbin is lost in his own world after that. You’re still sitting there, debating with yourself if you should stay. Roommate-Changbin may still intimidate you, but Director-Changbin only excites you. You want to know what’s on his mind, how he pours his questions and views about the world into his films.

You don’t notice that he’s stopped typing and is now watching you. “Y/N? You’re still here?”

“O-oh!” you yelp, instantly regretting the shock in your voice. “I’m just wondering…” you trail off.

“Yeah?” Changbin waits for you patiently, holding your gaze.

“Can I watch you work? I promise I’ll stay quiet.”

“I started writing this 3 years ago,” Changbin shares. “Somehow I could never writing the perfect ending, nothing felt right. I thought maybe I should use this as my graduation project.” He laughs, “So I could force myself to end the story.”

“What is it about?”

Changbin doesn’t answer you right away, staring at his laptop screen instead. He thinks long and hard—something he does often that infuriates Jeongin, but you’ve come to appreciate it. “Loneliness. Cliché, I know, and that’s why I’ve been struggling.”

He stops to take another sip of his coffee. “About whether it’s better to just be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s cliché,” you reply. “It’s something everyone has to deal with for the rest of their lives. It’s familiar. Important.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t know how to end it!”

“Then just say so.”

Changbin shakes his head before deleting a whole paragraph he previously typed. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be. People want answers.”

That shuts you up. You may be an English major, but this is Changbin’s field. And it’s his work, not yours. “Sorry. I crossed the line, didn’t I?”

“Nonono, you’re right,” he mutters. “Maybe I should try.”

“No, Changbin, this is just my opinion. You don’t need to—“

“And do you want to be the main character? I think you understand the material well, and this role suits you.”

Rejection is already on the tip of your tongue, but the way Changbin’s eyes twinkle is clouding your brain. He continues to stare at you as you’re debating with yourself, and when you meet his eyes, you melt. The cool, almost cold Seo Changbin is asking you for a favor, and while you’re not obligated to fulfill his wishes just because he’s suddenly nice to you… you want to.

He yells when you finally give him a firm nod, averting his eyes back to his laptop. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you with everything. I’ll finish this soon, okay?”

Once again you can only nod, admiring the small smile on his lips.

“You agreed to what?!” Jeongin shouts, resulting in you smacking his lips with your hand. “Shut the hell up we’re in the library!” you hissed as you bow in apology to all the people sending you death glares.

“Just man up and admit that you’re so whipped for Seo Changbin!” Jeongin has closed his book and is now trying to close yours as well. “Come on, tell me the details! All the embarrassing cheesy details!” he pesters.

The librarian has cleared her throat thrice in the past 5 minutes and you’re sure that means you’re going to get kicked out soon. You sigh at Jeongin, who takes this as a sign that you want to leave. He gladly put all your things back into your bag, dragging you out of the library with a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

You don’t know if you like Changbin. Maybe you do, but maybe you’re just missing the feeling of having someone. “I don’t know,” you mumble, sitting on the bench across the library. “Everytime I think about Chan I still want to cry, I still want to curse the hell out of him for ending things a day after he told me that he loved me.”

“Maybe things are going to be different this time,” Jeongin tells you. “Try to see him as Seo Changbin, not as the next Bang Chan.”

“Once you do, you’ll be able to see Changbin clearly.”

Everything has started to feel lighter.

You never remember your nightmares anymore even though you’re well aware that you still get them. And you have someone to go home with after your classes or your shift at the café now that you live with Changbin. Jeongin never shuts up about it, constantly pointing out that Changbin likes you better than him because he’s always with you.

And tonight is no exception.

“Hyung, why are you still here?” he asks, pretending to be curious.

“I’m working, leave me alone,” the older boy says flatly, not even glancing up from his laptop.

“Oh Y/N you’re done?!”Jeongin exclaims.

Changbin quickly closes his laptop, searching for you before he realizes that his friend is messing around with him. Jeongin laughs hard, patting Changbin’s shoulder as he dashes to you. “Finish up quickly, your boyfriend is waiting for you!”

“You’re such a dumbass,” you retort, wiping the counter one last time. You glance at Changbin who’s now looking at you, his lips curling into a soft smile when your eyes meet. Sometimes you really think that he’s into you, and you can never get used to that.

“I’m done anyways,” you inform. Jeongin’s phone buzzes, his face lights up as the name of his soulmate rolls out of his lips. He gives both of you a quick wave and leaves as you lock the door. You chuckle at the sight of Jeongin running to the bus stop. “He’s so in love.”

“He smiles all the time now it’s scary,” Changbin adds.

“Well I guess that’s the magic of being with someone you love.” you mumble. “And being with someone who loves you.”

Changbin’s breath hitches at your statement, causing you to eye him. “What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Have you ever wondered where your soulmate is?”

No matter how much Changbin has changed around you, hearing him talk about soulmates is still one of the weirdest things ever. You two can talk about anything, except this. The whole soulmate talk always reminds you that he’s not yours, that whatever you have now will end when he finds his soulmate or when you find yours.

“Of course. Especially because of the nightmares,” you admit. “But then I realized that I was looking for my soulmate with the wrong purpose. I mean, you shouldn’t want to find your soulmate just because you want your problems solved, right?”

“Are you still talking to Bang Chan?”

Besides Jeongin and Changbin, no one else knows about you and Chan. When you just started dating, Jeongin asked so many things about him, but Changbin never said anything. Not even a congratulation.

“How do you know that we broke up?”

You wince as soon as that question rolls out of your mouth. “Fuck. Of course you do. He got married.”

“Sorry,” he sighs. “Forget it.”

“No, it’s fine,” you interject. “Why did you ask?”

“I saw him picking you up at campus once. It was already super late,” Changbin reveals. “He was dressed in all black—with mask, cap and all that… celebrities-in-disguise attire.” You chuckle at his choice of words, causing his cheeks to slowly turn pinkish.

“You could barely did anything freely, yet you looked happy Y/N,” he continues. There’s a long silence afterwards as because you can’t figure out whether he could possibly mean. With each day you spend together, you feel his wall crumbling. You love it so much that you’re afraid one small mistake will destroy everything.

Changbin takes a deep breath, biting his lip as you finally have enough courage to look into his eyes. “What can I do to make you smile like that?” His whisper is soft but determined. Genuine.

Right in this moment, something in your heart clicks. Seo Changbin has you under his spell, enticing you with his words, his action, his heart.

“Can you sleep with me tonight?” you blurt out.

“Excuse me?!”

“Not like that,” you laugh. “Just stay until I’m asleep. Maybe the nightmares will be less scary.”

They won’t, but you’re not planning to tell him that.

You just want to see him as you fall asleep.

“Don’t you want to sit here?” you offer, patting the empty space beside you. Changbin smiles from his spot on the floor, right beside the bedside table. “I want you to sleep well Y/N. The two of us won’t fit in there,” he politely rejects although his brain is screaming at him to take the offer. There’s nothing he wants more than wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tight all night, whispering pretty words in your ear all night long so you will see rainbows in your dream, but maybe he still needs to wait.

Or he can just say that he loves you now.

“Good night, Changbin. Thank you for doing this.”

“Anything for you.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“I’m not taking it back, though,” he singsongs. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You grin, wrapping yourself with your blanket. “I’ll try.”

A few hours later, you wake up with a jolt, panting hard as the horror of the nightmare you just had leaving you. After downing a glass of water on the bedside table, you try to recall what you dreamed of. It’s strange, you think to yourself. Back then, one nightmare could haunt you for weeks, but now you forget everything as soon as you wake up.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Changbin rushes to you, cupping your cheeks to examine your face. “Ch-Changbin,” you mumble, eyes widening as you realize how comforting his touch is. It makes you feel like you’re floating, before landing on fluffy clouds. You feel lightheaded, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help at all.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he panics. Changbin circles his arms around your shoulders when you nod. You’ve never had a sweet dream, let alone dreaming of Changbin, but if this is a dream then you don’t want to wake up. Ever.

He envelops your entire body with his arms as he presses feathery kisses on your exposed shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this,” he says again. From the tone of his voice, you know that he’s frowning. “What’s going on, Changbin?”

Changbin pulls back, eyes holding your gaze like you’re the one he longs to see. “I love you,” he states.

You prompt yourself to wake up before this dream overtakes your reality, but everything stays the same and now Changbin intertwines your fingers with his.

“Are you sure?” you croak, gripping his fingers.

Changbin dips his head to press his lips onto yours, pulling you into his embrace as he pours all the love and adoration he has for you into the kiss. He kisses you slowly but firmly, nibbling your bottom lip when you curl your arms around his neck. Changbin chases your lips when you pull away, whining when you stop him from placing another searing kiss on your lips.

“I need to tell you something first,” you mutter, lips trembling. “Once I decide to love I don’t hold back, Changbin. I don’t hesitate, and honestly I don’t know if I’ll be ready to hit the brake when we reach the dead end because it’s you and—”

Changbin cradles your cheeks in his hands again, shaking his head as he peppers passionate kisses all over your face. “Please don’t hold back,” he says, almost begging. “Love me. Love me however you want to, okay? Because I don’t want to hold back either. You mean everything to me.”

You’ve got to be dreaming, you must be. Your feelings for Changbin are too strong that for once, you’re having a sweet dream. The sweetest dream. Universe is giving you a chance to live your wishes and in the midst of ghosts, murders, airplane crashes and death. Seo Changbin is here and says that you’ll be able to bask in the warmth of his skin and the fiery touch of his fingers whenever you want to.

But his grip on your waist feels too real and the loving gaze in his eyes feels too hard to resist. “You’re not dreaming,” he tells you, reading your mind and crushing your doubts.

“Can I stay here? Please? I want to hold you,” he asks, almost begging. You nod, your eyes feel heavy as Changbin kisses your cheek.

“What happened to Mr. Oh-Y/N-we-won’t-fit-in-there?” you tease, burying your face in the crook of his neck, his shy laugh being the last thing you hear before falling into deep slumber.

It’s been 10 minutes since you woke up, and you don’t understand what’s happening. Changbin is still sleeping beside you, his arm curling around your waist loosely. Waking up next to him is something you’ll need to get used to, but there’s another thing that makes you wide awake at 6AM.

You stopped having nightmares.

Carefully, you remove Changbin’s arm from your waist before shaking his shoulder. “Changbin,” you call out, smile dancing on your lips as he blinks. “Hmmmm,” he hums. “Good morning, babe.”

You try to ignore your burning cheeks and pulls him up instead. “I didn’t have any nightmare,” you announce as he sits up, his hair sticking out in various directions. “Changbin, I’m serious,” you demand when he fails to respond. “What’s your soulmate bond? Is it just me or are we really… soulmates?”

There’s a tension in the air before Changbin starts sniffling. You quickly climb into his lap, taking him into your arms as he starts sobbing and mouthing words you can’t make out. “Hey, what’s wrong?” you question.

“My soulmate bond is I’ll only be able to cry after touching my soulmate,” he says, smiling softly when your hand comes into contact with his cheeks, wiping his tears. You start to tear up as well; everything must have been suffocating for him. He had to bottle up all his feelings inside, not having the privilege to let everything out while it’s easy for everybody else.

“I can call you a crybaby now, huh?” you joke, pressing kisses on the top of his head.

Changbin nips your collarbone in return, your heart soars when you feel him smile against your skin. “You can dream of me every night now, huh?”

You never have any nightmare again, but nothing beats waking up in Changbin’s embrace and knowing that you don’t have to say goodbye to him.

Beaches are scary at night and the chilly weather only makes it worse. You watch Changbin walking around to thank his crew one by one, including Jeongin whom you dragged out of his flat at 2AM to become a replacement for Changbin’s boom operator that bowed out last minute. Your best friend waves you goodbye from afar, his red hair is the only thing you can see.

The beach is now empty, leaving only you and Changbin as the wind gets harsher. “You did well,” he praises, intertwining your hands together. “I only did this for you,” you answer. “After today I realized acting is not my thing.”

He bows at you. “I feel honored.”

You laugh; after everything that’s happened it’s still somehow satisfying to see him say sweet things to you. The cool, almost cold Changbin is long gone—now he’s your Binnie Binnie Changbinnie who whines when you leave bed too early or come home too late.

“Y/NNNNNN.” And here he goes again.

“What?”

“Why won’t you ever tie your shoelaces properly? I taught you the double knot before!”

You give him a playful “tsk,” sitting down on the soft sand to do the double knot exactly the way he showed you. Changbin watches you with amusement, guiding your fingers everytime you make a wrong loop. “Sometimes I wonder how we would find out we’re soulmates if I didn’t tell you my soulmate bond,” you murmur.

“I would’ve told you that I love you any other way. It doesn’t matter,” he responds. “I only wish I said it sooner.”

“Did you mean it?”

“That I love you? Of course, why would you think otherwise?”

You shrug. “I don’t know how this works. Do you just have to say it? Or do you have to really mean it?”

“Haven’t those before me told you that they loved you?”

“Those? There were only 2 before you,” you share. “And yes, they told me that. Nothing happened.”

Changbin closes the gap between you, gripping your waist a bit tighter than usual and pressing his lips on yours a bit harder. You bite your bottom lip after he releases you, causing him to frown. “I love you,” he says, tugging your lip with his thumb before replacing it with his lips once again. Both of you are gasping for air when he pulls away, but this time you smile at him.

“I mean it,” Changbin tells you firmly. “Don’t ever question that. Now let’s get you home, you’re freezing.”

“Have you asked your uncle if we can stay in his place?”

You and Changbin are cuddled up in bed, planning your upcoming trip to Daegu to celebrate your birthday. “I forgot!” you gasp, noting it down on Changbin’s favorite notebook. You flip the page to write some other things, but the page isn’t empty. The whole page is full of Changbin’s notes—messy and confusing.

Aug 11 – I cried (around 10PM)

Aug 12 – Should I tell Y/N?

Oct 2 – Y/N moved in

Oct 30 – I’m not sure… a good listener, makes me laugh…

Nov 4 – asked about soulmates. asked about my movies à amazing answers.

Jan 10 – i love them….?

Feb 11 – tell Y/N you love them (what will happen…?)

“Changbin what the hell is this?”

Changbin looks up from his phone, resting his head on your shoulder to see what you’re reading. His face hardens the moment he realizes what you’ve discovered. He snatches the notebook away and rips that certain page, throwing it into the trashcan.

“Answer me, Changbin. What did I just read?”

“I swear to God it means nothing, okay?”

You really hate this conversation. It sounds like the typical romance movie where your lover insists that everything’s fine when it isn’t. You don’t want to end up questioning Changbin for the rest of your life, but you love him too much to let him go.

“You knew right from the start that I’m your soulmate.”

He reaches for your hand, and at times like this you hate how much he affects you. “You’re right. I knew.”

“And then you decided to test me,” you reply. “For what? So you could judge if I deserved your love? If I deserved you?”

“I didn’t test you!” he half-yells. You remove your hand from his and stands up. Your eyes meet your photos together he’s pinned to his wall, the most recent one is from yesterday. Changbin smiles in every single photo, arms wrapped around your shoulders or your waist. Seeing the little corner he dedicates for both of you always warms your heart, but now you’re not sure about anything anymore.

Changbin follows your gaze, smiling fondly at the memories before darting his eyes back to you. “I didn’t mean to test you. I just wanted to know if soulmates are real—if there’s really one person in this big, big world that’s meant for me.”

“But I just realized that to you, that was a test.”

“There’s a line between getting to know each other and testing each other, Changbin. The fact that you purposely hid this from me then asked me to be your roommate so you’d be able to ‘grade’ me… that shit hurts,” you admit.

You sigh when Changbin doesn’t respond, turning around to return to your own room. “What happens when someone separates from their soulmate?” you ask softly, turning the door knob.

“I won’t be happy ever again Y/N,” he rasps. “You know that.”

Changbin trails behind you as you’re walking back to your room. He grabs your hand when you’re about to close the door. “You can’t expect me to be okay, Changbin,” you state. “I want to be alone.”

“I know,” he answers. “But—”

“Good night.”

You sleep well without any problem now, but tonight is the worst night you’ve ever had in your entire life. There’s no nightmare, only reality.

Changbin didn’t mean to lie.

He had a quite difficult past due to his inability to express his feelings well. His parents had tried everything: meditation, medication, therapy… you name it, but nothing cured him. He was longing for that one release and spent his whole life trying to channel his anger and frustration into something that didn’t scream scary to no avail.

Filmmaking helped him, but not enough. His parents bought him his own place when he was 15 because they were—in his brother’s words—“are tired of your shit” and his brother stopped talking to him the moment he moved out. In the end, Changbin gave up. He shut everybody out, never tried giving anybody his time of the day because he knew how everything would turn out.

He decided to rent a new place after high school and got Jeongin as his roommate. Jeongin brought him to you, and then everything changed. Changbin didn’t care whether he would finally be able to cry or not—he just wanted to be with you.

Somehow, along the way, he screwed everything up. As usual.

He scrambles to get up when he hears the door opens, hoping it will be you.

“What the fuck happened?”

It’s Jeongin, but Changbin is still thankful.

“You know what Y/N has gone through yet you still did that?” Jeongin spites, dropping a box of pizza on the table. “And you lied to me!”

“Sorry.”

Jeongin sighs. “I thought you would treat Y/N better than any other man because you’ve been through the same thing, but you dared to test someone who constantly questions whether it’s possible for them to be loved without the soulmate label? I don’t get it.”

“I know it was a bad idea, but I wanted to be sure, Jeongin. I want—”

“Save it,” Jeongin cuts him off. “Y/N is the one who needs to hear this, not me.”

“Will you forgive me, though?”

Changbin is prepared for a “fuck you” and punch on his face, but Jeongin only walks to the door. “I’m Yang Jeongin. I’m not your parents, I’m not your brother. I’m your best friend,” he prompts.

“And Y/N is your soulmate.”

There’s something different about today. Is it the way the sun shines on your shoes? The way people dress? The way the stray cats in front the café greet you? You’ve made a list of things that may have caused you to feel different, happier, but you can’t find it.

Whatever it is, your list certainly doesn’t include Seo Changbin standing in front of you, casually ordering Americano and cheesecake. You enter his orders in silence as he’s handing you his card. Jeongin is cleaning the display counter, unusually silent although you attempt to make a conversation with him. When he looks up, he gives you a look that screams, “I have nothing to do with this!”

Jeongin puts a cup of hot Americano on the table, smirking when Changbin protests that it’s way too hot. “I ordered a Hot Americano, not So Fucking Hot Americano,” he says sourly. The younger boy shrugs. “You should’ve told me you were coming.”

“Why? So you could—”

“Guys the line is getting long,” you cut them off. Changbin grabs his tray, looking at you with a stare that reminds you of the day he asked you to be in his graduation project. “Can we talk later? I’ll wait,” he asks.

After your shift ends, you’re walking around your neighborhood with Changbin who insists to take you home. You’re able to converse like normal although you expected things to be incredibly awkward between the two of you, especially after that day when you moved out and he just helped you pack your things, no words spoken.

You didn’t say goodbye, but maybe you have a chance to now.

“So when’s the drama going to air?”

Changbin takes a deep breath, counting days with his fingers. “Around next week? I’m nervous as hell. I’ve never been involved in a production this big.”

“What’s the title of the drama again?”

“Arthdal Chronicles! I met Song Joongki, Jang Donggun and Kim Jiwon! How cool is that?” he boasts. Listening to Changbin talk about his projects never fails to bring smile to your lips. At times like this, he only cares about what he loves and sees just that. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t think too much, he doesn’t control himself.

He glows.

“Hey Y/N.” Changbin grasps your wrist, gaze falling on your untied shoelaces. All the memories of him nagging at you to tie your shoelaces flood your mind and you have to do something, anything, before you fall apart.

You miss Changbin. You miss waking up to his sleeping face in the morning. You miss the way he looks at you when you praise him. You miss his beautiful voice lulling you to sleep. You miss taking him into your embrace whenever he cries, convincing him that he’s free to pour out his feelings now.

You love him—like soulmates do.

Crouching down, you connect the laces together, ready to do the first step. But Changbin stops you, completing the knot swiftly as you stare at him. When he looks up, his eyes are already glazed with tears. “I want you back,” he states.

His gaze becomes apologetic when he feels your body freeze, but he quickly wraps his hands around yours when you want to run away. “I let my doubts against the world overpower me. I spent so many years looking for answers to convince myself that not everything is bleak, yet I let the darkness consumed me,” Changbin says.

“You’re the warmest, brightest light I’ve ever encountered but I failed to see that. And I’m sorry.”

He pulls you up, wiping your tears you didn’t know you shed. Changbin takes a step closer, cupping your face softly. “Fuck soulmates, I don’t care about that. I’m goddamn lucky that you really are mine, but even if you weren’t, I would still choose you.”

“And I can’t believe there’s a day when I’m gonna be the one saying this, but we can take things slow. As slow as you want.” Changbin gives you a small smile when you finally look him in the eyes. He’s awaken all kinds of feelings inside you, even the ones you didn’t know exist, but there’s only thing you can identify now: yearn.

Changbin lets himself cry when you decide to circle your arms around his neck. “I know this is too much to ask,” he sobs. “But I just want you to know that I want to love you right. I didn’t have a chance to show you that yet, and it’s all my fault.”

You shake your head. “It’s my fault too. I only cared about my fears. I forgot about yours.”

Your soulmate sobs even harder at your answer, only calming down when you start running your hand through his hair. “You’re such a crybaby,” you murmur against his neck as he returns your hug, laughing at your favorite nickname for him.

Enveloped by Changbin’s warmth, you feel something you’ve never felt before. The feeling of being able to love someone without thinking about how things are supposed to be, without hesitation, without limits.

You realize how beautiful it feels to be able to love someone right.

EPILOGUE

“Happy birthday, stupid!” Jeongin yells at Changbin’s face, shoving as sloppily decorated birthday cake into the birthday boy’s hands. Changbin stares at it in mild disgust as you exit the counter, placing a black box wrapped with a white ribbon on the table. “I clearly told Jeongin to just buy you a cake. I’m not claiming that,” you explain. “But what’s done is done. Happy birthday, Changbin!”

You take a step forward to pat his back. A little awkward, but it’s enough to cause Changbin’s insides to flip. You remember his birthday and actually bought him something; he can just cry now.

Wait.

The unfamiliar sensation in his body is almost too overwhelming for him to handle, so he runs to the restroom, leaving you and Jeongin behind. He barely reaches the restroom’s handle when his legs give up. Soon, he’s crying silently, tears keep rolling down his cheeks no matter what he does to stop them.

Crying feels horrible, Changbin thinks, but it also feels wonderful. Liberating.

And he realizes that he’s already fallen in love with you even before he found out that you’re soulmates.

Changbin hates clichés, but he wouldn’t have things any other way. Now he just needs to figure out how to tell you.

yeah, i know i probably made soulmate au lost its magic but honestly those are the questions that i have in my mind everytime i wonder how it’ll be like if the system is real (curse me and my incredible talent to overthink). to everyone who’s finding love out there, you are loved. maybe you haven’t met the right person now, but you will!

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