#with small changes and. it's just not fun to rewrite everything in a notebook when i know i could be pasting into a doc on my laptop 😫 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purpleyoonn · 2 years ago

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Hi ! I'm a new anon who find the courage to send you a (pretty long maybe ?) message..... idk why I'm so talkative when irl I'm a quiet person LMAO.

First, I hope you're doing fine and your day went well !

Second, just wanted to say that I'm in love with your writings ! You're one of my favorite writer on Tumblr and AO3 !! I'm totally addicted to soulmates + poly!bangtan x reader more than I was before thanks to you 😭 /pos

My favs ones are The Line between Love and War, Dance of Time, Baby you complete us, Doughnuts and Shell Casings and of course the My universe One shots (Yoonie as a dragon... so soft omg he has all my heart and soul omg I'm OBSESSED... Jinnie as a vampire ? YES PLEASE. And Joonie as Hades ? On my knees. )

I don't finish reading all of your stories tbh, but it's in my plans, hehe. I started Ethereal today ! I already love it, I can't wait to binge read it !!

AND if I send you this, it's because I have some questions... because I'm a writer too, and I want to try and write a poly bangtan x reader soulmate AU too 🥺

Do you plan your writings ? Like taking notes in a notebook about your ideas, characters, story, any world building when you write something fantastic ? Do you plan your chapters and everything in advance, or do you just write what pass in your pretty head ? Do you have any tips for a baby writer like me ? 🥺

Again thank you so much for sharing with us all these stories, really, I read your stories in the bus, at uni waiting for my classes or during my breaks because I don't have any friends, and I'm a very anxious person who suffer from adhd and bpd, plus I'm autistic so reading your writings helped me to cut myself to the noisy world a little, and it helps me so much so thank you...! (you'll probably find all of this weird, I'm sorry 😖)

Ah! Sorry I talk too much... it's always like that when it's about my specific interests like bangtan, writing, and fantasy world....

Also, sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (I'm Belgian, so I speak french hehe), I hope you'll understand what I'm saying 😣

Have a nice day/afternoon/night, wish you all the good things in your life, you deserve it !! ♥ - 🐋

omg hello new anony! Im gonna call you whalien❤️

My day has gone really well so far! My little sister had a field trip and used her spending/gift shop money to buy me an octopus plushie (she knows I love octopuses and that they are my favorite animal) so im super duper today!

thank you so much! im glad you love my works! (I have no clue what /pos means though)

omg so you favorite almost all of my works so far then! watch out for ethereal though, there is a loooott in there and pls pls take the warnings seriously for each chapter!

but yeah, I love dragon yoonie and pretty much any and all dragon bts aus. like there is something about possessive bangtan that treats mc like their greatest treasure!

So as for writing, I do actually plan everything in my notebook! I write out like hopes for the story as well as like, a summary and plot line weird box structure thingie. I also write out anything for my characters like backgrounds and likes/dislikes. I try to plan everything in advance but I don't plan the small details. I plan ahead for the big like, plot changing things but other than that, I write what comes to my head! Its fun when you don't necessarily know where things go but have an idea of the plot! as least to me😊

My biggest tip for any writers out there is actually pretty simple.

write.

like everything.

any little or big idea that comes to your head. write it down. you are never going to get any practice or improve your skills if you don't write. for me, the little fox was the first like actual fic ive ever written (besides a twilight fic on quotev that I will happily take to my grave) and I want to go back and rewrite it so bad but I won't because I like knowing how ive improved my writing over the years.

im the same way with fics ive falling in love with. ive like perfected my straight face in public, ive got the best poker face. ill even read directly in front of my grandpa and he'd never know I was reading the dirtiest smut ever. Im happy though that I can help you escape your world and all the noise for even the slightest second. as a fellow autistic individual, I know how overwhelming and overstimulating the world can be so im glad you can find comfort in my works!

Please never think that sharing your thoughts on something you love is weird or strange. I could go on for hours about the history of fan fiction or octopuses for hours. ask me about my favorite book and you might as well plop down on the couch with a nice pillow and a snack because we will be there for hours while I bring out my white board with theories and characters connections.

also pls don't ever worry about any English grammar/comprehension mistakes when talking to me! I am goof about asking questions and my comprehension levels are usually through the roof so pls don't ever worry! I wish I could speak French! I only remember some words! my family is from one of the states that was a French colony so its pretty common to still hear some French being spoken. but unfortunately my family didn't like it, (mainly my grandma sooooo) .

I hope you have an amazing morning/day/night!!!!

#purpleyoonn #purpleyoonn ask #🐋 anon

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zeldas-cigarrette · 4 years ago

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⊱┊𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃

— pairing; ⚢donna sheridan x fem!reader

— word count; 3.3k

— summary; Sophie organised an afternoon of speed dating for her mother. You happened to be a customer at the certain restaurant it took place, and it seemed as if Donna was more interested in you than in all the guys that came for her. (lots of fluff because I can’t bring myself to write smut atm. ) xx

— fluff 🍰₊˚.༄ ೃ -

—❥ author’s note; My obsession with Meryl Streep keeps me sane during all those exams I have atm… Again, I’m so sorry for not posting my requests but I tried finishing them all but when I read them again they were so insanely bad, I can’t upload them… I will rewrite them probably next weekend (if I have enough time). But thanks for sticking around although I’m not as active (which will change in a few weeks, when I’ve finished my finals).

..⃗.🕊•̩̩͙⁺⤾·˚ ༘ ◡̈ ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ✧˖*°࿐

🏷 tag list; @paulawand , @pearplate

The sun was already burning down when Donna found out about her daughter's plans for the afternoon. Apparently, Sophie decided to host a speed dating for her mother in some restaurant on the island. She wasn’t interested in the first place but for the sake of her daughter, Donna decided to give it a try - maybe she’ll find the love of her life? It wasn’t until both mother and daughter arrived at the chosen restaurant when the older woman started worrying about what’s to come behind those doors. The few birds that gathered on the windowsill started chirping as if they were trying to warn her, „don’t go in!” but it seemed too late for that. „I don’t know if this is the right thing Soph,” Donna lurked through the window, seeing a couple of older guys waiting eagerly for someone to entertain them. „It’s gonna be fun Mum, just let it happen,” and with the huge smile spread over the young girl's face, she pushed the door open. Quickly the smell of food surrounded both women.

Only a couple of women were interested in dating as well, everyone was already sat on separate tables only waiting for the main host to start the thing. On the first look, none of these men caught her eye, none of them looked attractive. However, who was she to judge? Said and done, Donna took a seat opposite of a man with full fair hair and glasses. The two minutes started in which they were supposed to get to know each other.

You were sat in the corner of the restaurant, observing the show you were offered from afar. The people, including the owner, were making a fuss about the speed dating someone had arranged. You had moved to the island just a couple of months ago and though such things as speed dating were a pretty common thing in England, it seemed to be hardly a thing around here. Chewing on a shrimp, you wanted to hold back the laughter when you saw the angelic-looking woman’s face when one of the guys seemingly told her an interesting fact about him. She didn’t look very happy with the selection of men. Luckily you had an amazing view of the ocean and you could watch the sun gleaming on the water.

For every passing minute, Donna regretted the decision she made. The first guy was as dull as his name, Tom had 15 cats. He told her a story of when a few of his cats got sick and vomited in his flat. It was a full-on ramble for two minutes not letting his opponent get to word for once. Donna wasn’t sure if she had control of her face, but if she wasn’t at least the guy knew how horrible he was. The next one - didn’t even introduce himself - was shy. So shy that he only stared down on his fingers. Therefore when Donna made the first move and told him a little about her life, he could only nod and blankly stare a hole into the hotel owner.

Sunken in a daydream, you scribbled something in your notebook hoping the words would turn into poems. When you first came to the island you had hoped to overcome the ongoing writer's block, but until now not even the alluring landscape could change that. It ever so often occurred that your eyes landed on the woman with the golden locks not sure if it’s because of how dissatisfied she looked or if it’s her that captured you. Often you came to this restaurant to get the words flowing or to talk to the owners. They have been welcoming from the first moment, so you decided to go there again and again until it became the only restaurant you’d go to.

Meanwhile, Donna was meeting the fourth guy that wanted to meet her. It seemed to be a better start than the rest of the guys, he wasn’t perfect but neither was he as self-centered as the ones before. Their conversation was good until he dropped the 'women belong in the kitchen’ bomb. It ruined everything for her. „Alright people, we’re gonna take a short break so everyone can let the impressions sink in,” Sophie quickly interrupted when she saw how uncomfortable her mother felt. Each of the participants got up and walked out on the terrace or ordered drinks from the bar. Donna scoffed and buried her head in her hands. „This is awful,” it was only a whisper but audible to her daughter. „I’m sorry, I really thought that you’re gonna have fun,” the girl replied. Without another word the woman got up and wanted to walk a few steps to stretch the tense muscles in her leg when she spotted you sitting in the corner of the room.

She took small steps to reach your table, she was curious about what you were doing there all alone scribbling in your notebook. At first, you didn’t notice her coming towards you, but when you did she seemed as if a halo would enlighten her. The notebook was closed in an instant when you realized that you were the aim she was about to reach. „Hi” you greeted her with a wide smile. „Hello, I noticed you sitting all alone,” it was obvious that Donna searched for an opportunity to escape the dating hell her daughter had organised. You saw in how deep of misery the woman was. „Would you like to sit with me for a while?” you requested and pointed at the chair opposite of you. The noise in the overfilled restaurant was deafening so the blonde woman didn’t bother using words and just pulled out a chair. „You don’t know in how many ways you just saved me,” she smirked and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. You blushed but tried to hide it while leaning your face in both of your hands.

„I saw you’ve been busy over there, isn’t speed dating fun?” you teased not knowing if it was alright to overstep this line. „They’re all abhorrently boring and irritating,” the woman huffed and throws a disapproving look at the crowd of men. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, you’ve never had the problem with weird men. „I’m Y/n by the way,” you reached out your hand which she gladly shook. „Nice to meet you, my name’s Donna.” Even her name sounded angelic. The woman’s company brought you joy and even ideas for new poems came to your mind. „You could stay here until it’s over, I don’t mind,” you suggested avoiding eye contact, fearing rejection. „I’d love to,” it sounded like heaven to you. Therefore she stayed and every time you looked at her, you hated to avert your gaze the next second. Although Donna seemed to enjoy herself, the men on the other side of the room looked as if they were disappointed that she left. „One of their cats vomited in their flat,” she told you rolling her eyes. „Aww, I love cats but without the vomiting,” you giggled and tried to find out who it was by just scanning them. „It’s the blond one,” she pointed at a tall, skinny guy. „Oh yes, he absolutely looks like a cat guy,” you remarked dryly not averting your gaze from the giraffe-like man.

Sophie saw her mother sitting with you, smiling and giggling sometimes. She didn’t dare to make her comeback and go through another round.

„Would you like something to eat while you’re waiting for this to be over?” you asked shyly. „Actually, yes! I’ve been starving since we’ve come here and the conversations I’ve had didn’t make it go away,” Donna explained and bit down her lip. You waved for Elias, a waiter, for her to order. You’ve been exploring the island with him a couple of times and learned that he would rather like to work on the mainland as a teacher than work at his parent's restaurant. The food was served in less than ten minutes and she hummed while eating. „This has to be the best one I’ve eaten yet,” Donna declared while putting the cutlery on her plate.

Donna admired you for your kindness of letting her stay with you, she was lost in the eyes of yours and how your y/h/c hair was blown from the wind from time to time. The opened window offered her a marvellous view on the deep blue ocean. She felt safe in your company and the stories you’d told her about your future plans captured her. „Then why have you decided to come to Kalokairi when you plan on becoming a writer?” the older woman curiously asked. „Well, I had a very severe writers block and wanted to be surrounded by nature and I’ve a lot about this place in tourist guides so I decided to come here to get my writing flowing,” you explained. „Oh I’m sorry, I hope you’ve overcome it by now.” „I think I just did,” you cheekily replied. Unknowingly that your time was up by now, Sophie strutted over to the both of you.

„Mum, I’m sorry to interrupt but we’re done,” the young girl smiled while looking at you. „I’d really like to do this again,” Donna circled with her finger on the table, „I’ll just give you my address and you can come over some time.” Donna scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to you. You tried to hide the huge smile that was about to form on your lips. „Thanks, I’d also love to repeat this,” your whisper was barely audible. Donna just winked before leaving with her daughter, she was gone and left you with butterflies in your stomach. That day you’re writers block seemed to be gone and you were finally able to bring some words on paper.

»As I sat and looked at her and the rolling hills she sat upon I thought, what amazing luck I have that the world had created such beautiful things and given me the eyes to see them.« *

At first, you’ve been too afraid to drop that little poem off at her house, but when you gathered enough courage you just went for it. It was only when you arrived that you realised she was managing a hotel. You quickly dropped it off with your phone number written on it, not brave enough to give it to her in person. The following hours consisted of you having almost a nervous breakdown not wanting to receive rejection again. You had enough of that for a lifetime. Was she even interested in that way or was she just being nice? It took her until the next morning to get back to you, but when she did, it brought your heart to quiver.

She invited you over for a walk along the coastline by sunset. Whenever Donna laughed, it felt as if the world was changing for the better, and she smiled like a goddess. When the sun was almost gone and barely visible, it made the whole island shimmer in a shade of magenta. The older woman seemed as if she took a liking to you, that’s when you realised the arm sneaked around you. It was that day when you never wanted to leave Kalokairi or the high you’ve been on since you first saw her.

—♡︎

Over the weeks you two had somehow developed an unspoken romantic relationship, none of you were brave enough to talk about the strong feelings in between. When Donna wasn’t busy working in the Hotel, you did almost everything together, sat by the beach while you used her as your muse for writing or you two cuddled on the couch.

You had sent your work to a publisher in New York when you had gathered a few more poems and one night you received an email. They actually wanted you in New York, the head of the company wanted to meet you first and if everything goes well he wanted to offer you a contract and an apartment in which you could get your words flowing. Although that sounded like a dream to you, so surreal and perfect to be true, your true new home was the island and the mere thought about leaving was too much. That’s why you didn’t tell Donna. You weren’t sure if this was the right time or if she’d even care.

„Why did they have to leave her out, just because she couldn’t pay for the country club?” the thing you loved about her, was that she always commented on the movies you watched. „It seems unfair to me,” you added and snuggled closer. You were partly on your laptop to check your mails for a confirmation on an order you placed. She was holding you close while her head was resting on yours. It was the smell of the ocean that comforted you and made your eyelids heavy. You had never stayed overnight at her house because you didn’t know if that was alright for her, so you fought against tiredness. Few strands of her hair slightly covered your eyes which only caused you to give in to your exhaustion more.

The steady sound of the movie and her beating heart made you even more tired until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. A comforting wave of sleep hit you and soon you were comforted in a dream. It wasn’t until the woman you’d fallen asleep on moved abruptly, that you woke up. „Ouch,” you murmured and your head jolted in an upward direction. „I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Donna sounded weird but you brushed it off due to the late hour. „Don’t worry, is everything alright?” you then asked while straightening your back. Only a light hum was a response to your question, she then focused on the movie again. Minutes passed and your eyelids started to feel like cement. „Okay, you know what? It’s not okay. I know going through your things wasn’t right, but your laptop was open and I’ve seen the email from the publisher and internally I’m going mad and-“

„Stop,” it was a short but loud enough interruption of her rambling. Donna's eyes grew wide. „I don’t mind if you’re going through my things, but before you assume something you could’ve asked me, because I wasn’t planning on going,” you didn’t want to snap in that way. Only a regretful „Oh..” broke the uncomfortable silence. You felt bad for speaking to her in that tone. „I’m sorry but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, I just found you.” A small but proud smile formed on your lips, maybe the feelings were mutual. „I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly replied. Both of you started staring at the screen of the tv again, wordlessly. „Y/n?”

You hummed in response. „I think I love you.” „You think?” you laughed, „because I might love you too.” Her hands quickly found your face and pulled you in her direction, „Is that alright?” A slight nod confirmed and Donna’s lips found yours. They moved against yours in sync and that’s when you first noticed how soft they were, she tasted like peach and lavender. „Your hair’s so soft,” she mumbled when she stopped for air, after that Donna quickly found your lips again. „And your cute when you’re all worried,” you added when you gasped for air.

That night you stayed with Donna and fell asleep cuddling her. She wore a blue pyjama with puppies all over it, you were gushing over how adorable she looked.

—♡︎

„Come on we’re going to be late for the ferry if you don’t hurry up,” Donna rushed past you to turn off the kitchen lights. „Yeah yeah don’t rush me or I’m never gonna finish,” you replied and closed your suitcase. You were going home for your father's birthday and they wanted to meet the woman that you couldn’t stop talking about. „Ready?” „Yes.” Donna stretched out her hand for you and pulled you after her. „I hope they’ll like me,” she pondered while loading the suitcases in the trunk. „They will absolutely love you, trust me,” you said and helped her closing up.

The ferry was crowded as usual and you two barely had enough space so Donna demanded you to sit on her lap. „I hope we’re gonna catch our flight,” the woman mumbled and nervously checked her wristwatch. „Don’t sweat it, we’re gonna make it on time it’s still early,” you cackled, knowing that she was nervous. The ferry sailed over the water just as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. When the ferry reached the mainland, Donna and you quickly rushed to a cab and drove to the nearest airport. The sky was flawlessly blue, not a cloud could be seen.

Not a lot of people decided to fly to England on that day, you could count 17 people at the checkpoint. In the meantime Donna was a nervous wreck, the woman constantly fidgeted with the keychains. „Ew your hands are sweaty,” you joked when you took hers in yours, „don’t be afraid, I’m with you the whole time.” Donna forced a smile on her face then followed you on the airplane. It wasn’t a long flight, maybe four or five hours. The start was a rough patch, Donna’s anxiety of flying was at its highest and she was seemingly about to throw up. Luckily you could talk her down and she soon fell asleep.

Arriving in London Southend, which was close to your parent's house, your girlfriend's nerves seemed to be calmed and you almost thought she’d taken something. „Let’s get out of here, my brother’s gonna pick us up,” you declared as both of you got your luggage. „He’s very much into cars and all that stuff, so if he’s annoying you just tell him to shut up, I do this every time.” „Oh I hope it’s not getting too complicated so that I can keep up,” she stifled a laugh and cheerily followed you along to the exit. As usual, your brother couldn’t shut up about the new cars he is about to tune, but luckily the ride was only about 40 minutes.

Your father was fascinated by Donna, the two of them got along quite well and even your mother seemed to approve of your choice this time. There have been a few women she wasn’t fond of, almost hated them and in retrospect, she was right about them. As it got darker outside, your father's guests said their goodbyes and left one by one until only the five of you were left at the table. „We’re gonna go to bed, it’s getting late and I’ve got work tomorrow,” your father declared and clapped his hands on both of his legs before getting up. „Yeah me too,” your brother said.

„Wanna sit in front of the fireplace for a while?” you asked as all of them were gone. „Absolutely.” „Thanks for coming, I was afraid you wouldn’t like my family because of how crazy they are sometimes,” you whispered when you draped a blanket over the both of you. „They’re all lovely people, I’m happy they don’t seem to hate me,” Donna joked. „They don’t, they love you but maybe not as much as I do,” you sweet-talked. Her finger booped your nose before she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. „Can I hold your hand?” she quietly asked. You nodded, feeling her soft palms against yours was enough to make you feel safe. While you sat there watching the fire die out, the grip around Donna got tighter, fearing she’d be gone as soon as the sun rises. But she wasn’t, she was still there in the morning and the morning after and so on. You were happy with her, happier than you would’ve imagined.

* used a poem from atticus

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cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 4 years ago

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Pinky Promise

Summary: Fred and Y/N have been rivals for a while, but no matter if it was pranks, or quidditch or something else, they always had their limits to not hurt the other. In fact, for the past few months Y/N and Fred have been growing closer, and even developing feelings for each other, but everything changes when one of Fred's pranks go to far, and he needs to find a way to fix it to save their relationship.

Warnings: Swearing, Fred being kind of a dick, Reader getting angry, confrontation, some angst, kind of a lot of angst actually, ends in major fluff though, also humor because I may not not how to spell but I’m hilarious.

Word count: 2.7K

A/N: comin at cha with ANOTHER ENEMIES TO LOVERS FRED WEALSEY FIC??? Why am I so uncreative? Idk, anyways I hope you enjoy!

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You were beyond furious. You didn’t think there was a strong enough word to describe how angry you were, and you were pretty sure if you were any angrier steam would be coming out of your ears. And the reason for all this anger you may ask?

Fred Fucking Weasley

You stormed through the hallway, heading straight to the dining hall. It was late, and you barely anybody would be in there, but you knew he would be.

You stopped in the doorway, scanning over the tables until your eyes landed on a familiar mop of red hair. Locking your eyes on your target, you stomped over, clutching your bag tightly in your right hand.

“Oh shit- what did you do this time?” You heard Lee whisper to Fred, as you got closer, but you paid him no mind, eyes locking with Fred’s, who had that same stupid smirk that he always did. It made your blood boil.

“Good evening love, how’s your night going?” Fred asked nonchalantly, as if you were friends and not life long enemies.

“I have to say, it was going quite well, until I found this” You seethed, slamming your bag onto the table in front of him. “Say, does this bag look familiar to you?”

“Nope, can’t say it does” Fred shrugged, but the glimmer in his eye said differently.

“Really? Why don’t you take a closer look” You insisted, grabbing the bag off the table, flipping open the top, and flipping it upside-down, causing an eruption of water to fall from the mouth of the bag.

The water continued for what felt like forever, pieces of paper and pens falling out with it as the contents emptied out onto the floor, soaking yours and Fred’s shoes, but neither of you made a move.

After the water had finally stopped, you threw the bag into his lap, causing him to look down at it, a thoughtful hand on his chin.

“You know, now that I’m looking more closely at it, it does look a bit familiar” He said simply, and judging by the nervous looks on George, and Lee’s face when they saw you, you for sure had steam coming out of your ears now, but you kept your composure.

“Oh, well that’s good. You see, I’m trying to solve a bit of a mystery of who could have done this. Would you have any ideas?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of you.

By now, most of the cafeteria had cleared out. They have seen you and Fred get into heated arguments before. But this was different.

This was going to be fatal.

“No clue, but I have to say whoever thought of it is a bloody genius” He complimented, giving you a grin.

“Genius you say? So you think, flooding my one bag, and ruining all my homework, as well as my ten page essay that I’ve been working on all month, that’s due tomorrow... is Genius?” You asked, the calmness in your voice adding a coldness to the room that shot straight to everyone's bones.

And judging by the now terrified face Fred wore, he was feeling the effects of your voice as well.

“Oh, I see there's been a mix up, I’m actually George-”

“You are fucking not! Don't get me caught up in this” George interrupted, standing along with Lee to flee the scene

“So sorry about him, Y/N, he can’t be helped. Try not to go to hard on him-” Lee started, but a quick glance his way shut him up instantly “Actually on second thought, do what you see fit, see ya Fred”

With that, George and Lee practically sprinted out of the dining hall, leaving you standing over Fred, who suddenly felt very small.

“I swear, I had no idea your essay was in there, if I had known I wouldn’t have-” Fred started apologizing, but was quickly cut off when your hand slammed down on the table beside you.

“You see Fred” You said, taking a seat on the bench next to him. “I think you did know. We’re in the same class, you’ve seen me working my ass off trying to get this essay done, and you’ve even asked for my notes, which I refused because of this kind of shit you pull”

Fred swallowed thickly, his heart beating out of his chest at your anger. He had seen you angry before, and he’s been cross with you a few times as well, but those died down fairly quickly, and most of the time there weren't to many hard feelings. And you were right, he had seen you working on that essay, both in class, and at two in the morning in the library.

“Now” You continued “We’ve had out little quarrels in the past, you prank me, I prank you, you hit me with a quaffle at quidditch, I hit one back at you, nothing too serious. But this” She paused, picking a sopping wet pile of papers off the floor, and plopping it in front of him “Is really really fucking low. Did you know, I was already failing this class?”

The question put Fred on the spot, and he felt his heart sink to his stomach. He had always known you to be extremely smart and quick minded, so to hear you weren't doing so well in that class came as a surprise.

“Yeah, I’m failing because, fun fact, I’m fucking exhausted. I’m staying up till three in the morning every night, trying to get caught up in classes. I’m writing back and forward to my family constantly because they’re going through financial problems again, Umbridge is constantly writing me up for no reason, and on top of all of that, I still need to be worried about this”

Your voice was beginning to shake a bit, and you both knew you were about to cry, but you were determined to keep the tears in until you were done. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“So... Fred, consider this little rival, or fight, or whatever the fuck this is, over. I’m done, you win, just please, for the love of fuck, leave me alone”

With that, you stood up and left the dining hall, quickly wiping the stay tear that snuck out on your way. All the while, Fred sat in shocked silence. He had always seen your little back and forwards as friendly competition, and had even thought they were a bit flirty at times. In fact, you two had been getting a bit closer these last few months, and had even started hanging out as friends. But now, he had royally fucked that up, and he needed to fix it.

The next day, you were exhausted. You had spent a lot of the night crying, which you hated but all the pent up emotions just came flooding out. Yes, you were absolutely pissed at Fred, but most of all, you were hurt. In the last few months, you’re arguments had died down a bit, and you found yourselves hanging out from time to time, always accidentally, but you enjoyed his company none the less.

You had even begun to like him a bit, maybe even more than a friend. He was nice, and charming, and wicked funny, and always tried to make you smile, but now, after seeing how careless, and almost mean he had been, you knew you needed to shove those feelings down. So you did.

Your first class was potions, which of course you had with Fred. He sat behind you, and for a while, he made the class bearable, passing notes back and forward. But now you were absolutely dreading it.

Fred was sat in his usual seat, waiting for you to walk in. He had come in early, hoping to get the chance to talk to you, but when you walked in just as class began, he knew he would need to try a different approach.

Not even five minutes into the class, you felt a piece of paper land beside your elbow on your desk. You looked down, finding a folded up piece of paper, which you immediately knew was Fred's.

You could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head, but instead of turning around, you simply flicked the paper off your desk, returning your gaze to the chalkboard. A few minutes later, another piece of paper, this time on top of your notebook. Again, you flicked it off.

Finally, five pieces of paper later, you smacked your quill down and picked up the newest piece of paper from your desk, unfolding it and looking it over, Fred watching you closely as you did

Can we please talk? I’m sorry

You finally turned around to meet the boys gaze, his eyes instantly lighting up at the change, but his spirits quickly fell when he saw your face, not angry, or frustrated, but sad.

You had had enough, facing the boy, you placed the paper back onto his own desk right as the professor dismissed the class, quickly slipping out of the room before Fred could follow you.

You avoided him like the plague the rest of the day. You didn’t have many other classes with him, and the ones you did share you made sure to find an empty seat far away from him, you even skipped lunch, choosing instead to read in your next class.

You even skipped the class where your essay was due, not wanting to show up and hand over nothing, you decided to spend the rest of the day alone, and try to redo your assignment, even if you now only had a day to do it.

Fred only saw you again after class by the forbidden forest. He had found you pretty easily, you weren’t in any of your usual spots, so he knew this would be the next best spot to check. As he approached you, he found you had changed out of your uniform and were now in some joggers and a sweatshirt, sitting with your back against a rock as you scribbled in the notebook in front of you.

You chewed your lip as you tried to rewrite your essay, looking to your textbook and back every few second, before messing up on a word. Frustrated, you scribbled out the paragraph you had been working on and threw your notebook and quill to the side, resting your elbows on your knees as you held your head in your hands.

You quickly snapped out of it though when someone behind you cleared their throat, getting your attention and making you jump out of your skin. Panic surged through you, expecting a teacher, or worse, Umbridge, but the fear was soon replaced by irritation when you made eye contact with none other than the very red head you had spent all day trying to avoid.

“What do you want Fred?” You asked, turning back to face the forbidden forest, away from him.

He didn’t answer, instead you were met with the sound of grass shuffling beneath his feet as he got closer, taking a seat before holding something out to you, causing you to look over at him.

It was your bag from yesterday, but now completely fixed and dry. It looked like brand new.

You took the bag from him and looked it over, going over the seams and the straps before finally opening it, finding your notebooks, pens, and homework assignments all neatly tucked inside.

“How did you- When did-” you rambled trying to find the words and you shuffled through your belongings, finding them all intact and dry before finally turning to look at him “Why did you do this for me?”

Fred wasn’t expecting that question, but he still answered, looking down at the grass.

“I felt really bad after yesterday, and not just because of that stuff you... anyway, I know I went too far, and I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I wanted to have a reason to talk to you I guess, and I did it in the worst way possible, and I wanted to make it up to you. I’m sorry”

You looked at him, before turning back to the bag, noticing there was something missing, but before you could say anything Fred continued.

“I was also able to save your essay, it took a while but it was all there. I was going to give it to you in class, but you didn’t show up so I turned it in for you and said you were sick. I got to read some of it by the way, its really good and I would be surprised if you-”

Fred was cut off by you moving your bag to the side and turning to face him, wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a hug.

Fred was too shocked to move for a second, but quickly found himself returning the embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you closer. You sat like that for a minute, your face buried in his neck as a thousand emotions flooded over you. Finally, you pulled away, looking him in the eye.

“I’m not saying I’m not entirely grateful” you started “But you could have just come and talked to me, why did you feel you needed to do that to talk to me?”

At this, Fred’s face began to heat up a bit and he looked back down, fiddling with the grass. He was hoping to fix your friendship and move on, maybe one day growing to be something more, but now he was faced with the choice to tell you his feelings, or lie, and he didn’t want to deny it anymore.

“We’ve always had our little competitions and stuff, ever since we were kids, and for a while we really hated each other. But then, these last few months I got to know you a lot more, and I always knew you were funny, but you’ve got a wicked sense of humor, and you’re super smart, and are always helping people, and you’re always kind to everyone you meet, and I thought I might have had a crush or something. And I didn’t really know how to interact with you in a not competition way, and I didn’t want to freak you out, but after the bag, seeing how it hurt you, it broke me. And I realized that I liked you a lot more than I thought I did”

Fred looked up at you, waiting for your reaction. Were you angry, upset, happy? Your face wasn’t giving him any signs, but then, a small smile crept to your lips, and despite how hard you tried to fight it.

You laughed.

“I’m sorry” You started, trying to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest “I’m not laughing at you, I’m not, it’s just-” Another laugh. “God were just a bunch of idiots aren't we?”

Fred was looking at you like you’d gone crazy

“What do you mean?”

“I like you too dumb ass” You confessed.

“You... oh... Oh!” Fred exclaimed, finally putting the pieces together. “Wow, I really fucked up didn’t I”

“Oh for sure” you nodded, causing Fred to let out a groan, shaking his head before looking back to you, a smile on his face.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the rest of the space between you and pressing your lips to his. Fred returned the action, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in closer, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds, you both pulled away, each with goofy smiles on your faces.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Fred asked.

“Only if you promise to never do it again” you said

“Deal” Fred answered quickly, holding out his pinky to you, which you wrapped your own pinky around, shaking on the agreement.

“Wow a pinky promise, that's some hard core shit” You joked in a serious tone.

“Hey, if it means I get to spend more time with you, I’d pinky promise to anything” Fred replied, to which you gave him a feigned shocked expression.

“Anything?! Aww, you like me like me” you teased, laughing as Fred playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Shut up you like me like me too” Fred argued

“That is true” you nodded, before smiling and grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss, smiling as he pulled you even closer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Heeey, so I was hit with the biggest surge of motivation today and I literally got two weeks of homework done, deep clean my room, and wrote this, so if I go dark for a few months its probably because I’ve used my adrenaline budget for the year lol.

But seriously, I know this fic gets a bit... deep ig? Idk, I’ve been going through it recently and I wanted some angst that would actually reflect how I would react in that situation if you know what I mean? Like I see a long of angsts where the love interest does something really mean, but a simple apology solves everything and yeah. No hate if that’s your writing style, its just not my thing, and I wanted to express my emotions through here, because nobody directly fucked up an entire month of my work but it certainly feels that way sometimes.

Anyways, rant over, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any feedback or recommendations you may have.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley headcannon #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley has me SOFT HOLY SHIT #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley request #fred weasley enemies to lovers

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mingtiddies · 4 years ago

Text

heart on the line

member: seungcheol

genre: mostly angst, not much cheese but the cheesy part is cheesy as hell

word count: 4413

warnings: mentions of sex (very brief)

a/n: what??? a fic??? for real??? wendy omg!! anyways, as promised (more like announced), here’s a nice fic that i don’t hate. i hope you guys will enjoy it and like it as much as i cherish it. it’s a fic i wrote years ago while in a different fandom, and i decided to rewrite it for seungcheol!! I felt like it fitted him best out of all 13 members..

You had been dating Seungcheol for a little while now. Since freshman year, the two of you were inseparable. First days made you all kinds of nervous. And so of course, you had been a nervous wreck on the first day of high school and he had been there to help you through it.

The closer you got to Seungcheol, the more your mutual friend Jihoon would subtly imply that the two of you made the perfect pair and looked like a couple. None of you would catch on his remarks, but shortly after that, you did end up dating.

And everything had been good between the two of you. Until he met her.

Last year of high school. A milestone in your relationship with Seungcheol... Two, technically. While you had celebrated your fourth year of having met, your two-year anniversary as a couple was right around the corner. The boy had been your rock since day one; he made you happy and you were still hopelessly in love with Seungcheol.

Halfway through that year, your school buzzed with news of a new student transferring in. Na Yoojin, and she would be in your class, as it turned out. Although at first you couldn’t recall how they had met, it came back to you on a warm afternoon when all of you hung out after school. After Yoojin’s transfer, your best friend’s younger sister quickly befriended her. Haeyoung befriended her after that and so naturally, you became her friend as well.

Seungcheol and Yoojin had met on a regular school day. He would often come by in between classes to catch glimpses of your face and hold your hand away from the prying eyes of your classmates. He would come, even if it meant you could only see each other for a minute or two.

Sometimes it would be the other way around; at the sound of the bell, you’d rush out of your classroom and get to his. But this year, he would make it a point to get to your classroom before you could even get out of yours.

That day, he greeted you outside just as you walked out of the room with Yoojin, getting some fresh hallway air before your next class started. You had noticed Seungcheol right when you stepped out of the room and walked over to him, with Yoojin following you.

You had introduced him as Choi Seungcheol, and feeling like it would come off as defensive for no reason, you with-held the detail that he was your boyfriend. “I see you’ve made friends with my beautiful girlfriend,” he had said, with the cutest smile on his face. He had gone on to say that you and the Shin sisters were the best company she could have hoped for.

Seungcheol falling for a friend of yours seemed so laughable at the time. You knew him inside and out. And you hated yourself for not seeing it sooner. The more you thought about it, the clearer it was to you that there had been a few signs.

Hanging out with you when it was supposed to be just you and the girls. Always suggesting for everyone to hang out together, and insisting on inviting everyone.

By the end of the year, Seungcheol’s behavior had changed in small but many ways. He wasn’t much of the same boy you had started dating, and not just with you, but with the others as well. In the way he would smile, in the way he would laugh. He would never feel comfortable around you. And much less around all of you together.

You had realized by then that he had fallen for Yoojin, he wasn’t just crushing on her. But you knew Seungcheol. And he would never cheat on you. Nor would he break up with you only to get together with your friend. At least not right away...

And you hated it. Every second of it. It felt like you were keeping him from being himself, and you hated that more than anything. And so you did what you thought was best, for both of you.

You were sitting in front of him, cross-legged on the floor of the library, while he sat back against the wall, cross-legged as well, his nose buried in a book. You were both studying for different tests, but as soon as you looked up at him, your mind wandered to that fateful afternoon when Seungcheol and Yoojin had met.

You thought about how he looked at her when she wasn’t looking and how his eyes would light up. You held your breath. “Do you ever think we should stop this?” The words had escaped your lips before you could truly think about it.

You weren’t ready for that conversation. Not here, not now...

He lifted his head to look directly at you, curious, “What do you mean?” As much as you regretted bringing it up, you had an opening. If you backed down now, later you would overthink and chicken out.

You had no idea how to approach the reasons that were forcing you to do this to him, but this was your chance to let him go. “I mean... us.” He was confused. Only at first though. But then you could read a mix of surprise and relief on his face, that he was obviously trying to hide.

“Are you breaking up with me?” You wanted to take it back, so bad. You loved him... so much. But that was exactly why you couldn’t bear to see him so... out of character. “I just- yeah, I am... I’m sorry.”

It felt like you were apologizing for breaking up. But you were apologizing for not letting go of him sooner. And you couldn’t look at him anymore. Tears filled your eyes and you looked away. “I- I should go. My mom won’t be happy if she gets home before I do,” you forced a chuckle out of your throat.

“I’ll uh, pack the things you left in my room so you can pick them up... whenever,” you said, as you gathered your notebooks and threw them in your backpack. “Yeah, okay...”

You stood up, turned away, trying to hold back your tears and walked away without a word. You wanted to run away. Run away and never look back. But you knew it would make Seungcheol suspicious, and the last thing you needed was for him to confront you about breaking up.

Instead of going home, you headed straight towards Haeyoung’s house. You knew she was home; she had kept you updated on her fourth date with Jihoon, and you knew that she had gotten home safely a few hours ago. You knocked on the door, and waited for a response, expecting Haeyoung’s father, but you were met with your best friend’s face.

In a matter of seconds, you noticed her face go through at least three different emotions. First was joy, as she would always be delighted to see you, then her brows furrowed in confusion at your lack of reaction. Why weren’t you as happy to see her as she was to see you?

And last, you watched her confusion turn to worry as you offered her a teary eyed smile. “What happened?” You shrugged, “We broke up.” Her eyes widened in shock, “What?” She grabbed you, pulling you inside her house and dragged you to her room.

“Are you sure? What did he say exactly?” she asked as she sat on her bed, looking up at you in disbelief. “Haeyoung, I broke up with Cheol,” you said when you realized that she thought he had been the one to break your heart. You hadn’t thought it was possible for Haeyoung’s eyes to open even wider than they had before.

“B- But I thought you loved him!” she stuttered. “I do,” you replied, as you felt the tears burning your eyes again. You sniffed, fighting them back, “But he likes someone else, Haeyoung. I didn’t want him to be trapped in our relationship. That’s not who I am.”

She jumped to her feet and rushed to wrap you in her arms as you finally stopped holding back your tears. That night, Haeyoung had asked her father to call your mom to ask if you could stay the night. You were in no mood to face your mother, or your big brother.

Besides, being in your best friend’s arms was the only thing that felt somewhat normal for the time being. You ended up telling her who Seungcheol had fallen for and that you had let him think you were okay with breaking up.

Just as you had told each other goodnight, lying in the dark, you rolled to face your best friend. “Hey?” you whispered. She hummed in response. “Please try and set him up with her,” you requested. That had probably been the dumbest thing she had ever heard you say.

“y/n...” you heard the disapproval in her voice. “Please, Haeyoung,” you pleaded. You heard her sigh very loudly before she finally said, “Fine.”

After graduation, you, Jihoon and Seungcheol had been accepted into the same university, while Haeyoung had been accepted into a university from the next town over. On that very day of graduation, Seungcheol told you that he was going on his first date with Yoojin.

Haeyoung had kept her promise; she had dug around a little, maybe even cornered the poor girl, but in the end, she had found out that Yoojin had been falling for Seungcheol too. And even though the thought of the two of them falling for each other behind your back while you and Seungcheol were together made you feel worse, you let Haeyoung proceed to set them up with each other.

Integration was a fun experience. A chance to get to know other students before classes started. That was where you met Jeonghan and Joshua, and made friends with them. As it turned out, Seungcheol had met them at a summer camp when they were kids.

Your friendship with Seungcheol remained somewhat intact, despite the fact that you still felt the same about him. But your ex-boyfriend still believed you had decided to break up because your puppy love had flamed out.

Seungcheol and Yoojin kept a long-distance relationship all throughout freshman year and sophomore year. You found it impressive.

You sat in front of Jihoon at a coffee shop on campus, Joshua and Seungcheol both sitting on his left, while Haeyoung and Jeonghan sat on your right. You glanced at your best friend and smiled at her, slightly nudging her.

It was one of those rare moments where you could all be together; especially with Seungcheol dating someone off campus and Haeyoung being at a different university. She was staying for the day and would be going back to her dorm first thing in the morning.

You had no doubt that the boys would try to sneak her into Hoon’s dorm. And if that plan fell through, she could always stay with you. Since your roommate had cleared out for the semester and for some reason unknown to you, they wouldn’t assign you a new roommate.

Jeonghan stared at all of you and silently chuckled, which caused Jihoon to frown at his friend. “I just find it funny that most of us are in a relationship.” You mentally scoffed, knowing that you were the only one at this table that was still single and that your last boyfriend was literally sitting a feet away from you.

You decided to wait and see where the conversation was going, as Joshua looked directly at you, “When was your last relationship, y/n?” Your eyes widened at the sudden question. You had expected them to tease you about being single, not to ask you about your most recent relationship.

“Wow, um... The last boyfriend I had was... in high school,” you answered, desperately trying not to look at Seungcheol. You felt Haeyoung squeezing your right hand in an attempt to comfort you, making you realize that your right hand had been on your lap while the other was tightly holding your tea cup.

Haeyoung was still the only one who knew the real reason behind the break-up, what it had done to you and that you were also the reason Haeyoung had set the two of them up with each other. And she also knew that you still had feelings for him.

She finally let go of your hand, when Jihoon loudly snickered, staring at his coffee cup. “Your last boyfriend is definitely not the last person you slept with.” Understanding what he was referring to, you brought your free hand to rub your face and sighed, “Oh my God, Jihoon. Will you drop it?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you, “Never!” You rolled your eyes at your friend as the others shared looks and you could’ve sworn you heard your best friend attempting to and failing to contain a chuckle next to you.

Jeonghan looked at you in confusion, “Who did you sleep with that’s so terrible, that even Jihoon of all people won’t let it go?” he asked. He was right. Jihoon usually didn’t care too much about who his friends were sleeping with. So who had you gotten involved with, that would make Jihoon so bitter?

It only took them a few seconds to realize who it could’ve been. You tried to ignore Seungcheol, Jeonghan and Joshua as they looked at you as if you had murdered someone. “Kim Yeongsik?!” Joshua whisper-yelled.

You rolled your eyes once again and sighed, face-palming yet again. “It happened once, guys. Chill.” Jihoon mumbled something, too faint for you to hear.

After a couple dozens of minutes, you decided it was time to go home and walked out of the coffee shop. You hugged Haeyoung goodbye, in case she did stay at Hoon’s dorm, knowing that you wouldn’t be seeing her in the morning, because of an early class you had.

You walked home with Joshua and Jeonghan seeing as they lived closer to your dorm than the others. They were also the only ones to share a dorm together; both Seungcheol and Jihoon had gotten single room dorms, being in a relationship and whatnot.

Less than a week later, you were able to hang out together again at the cafe. Except this time, Haeyoung couldn’t make it, so you went on your own with the guys.

You heard Jihoon muttering just as you all noticed Kim Yeongsik walking in to get a cup of coffee. You honestly couldn’t tell how many times you had rolled your eyes at how dramatic Jihoon was being. The muttering went on for a few minutes after Yeongsik left, but then your conversation finally went back to normal.

It felt different without your best friend, but you had gotten used to the boys being around. Even though you would never be alone with Seungcheol. And it somehow felt like Jeonghan was to thank for that. After all, he was the most observant of your friends, and you had met him at a time when awkwardness was palpable between you and Seungcheol.

If it weren’t for your obligations as students and young adults, you most likely would have stayed at the cafe for a few more hours. As you all stood up to head out and go your separate ways, Jeonghan groaned. “Shit, I forgot we have to go grocery shopping.”

Jihoon chuckled, asking why they had to do it now. “Because Joshua forgot to do it last time, when we still had a bit of food left. And now we have nothing,” he answered.

He turned to you, concerned, “You’ll be okay, walking home alone?” You opened your mouth to reply, but Seungcheol beat you to it, “I can walk you. It’s... actually on the way to my dorm. I usually just drop by Jihoon’s dorm first,” he suggested. “Always stealing my food too,” the latter muttered under his breath.

Joshua patted Jihoon’s shoulder as Jeonghan waited for you to tell him whether or not you were okay with it. Oh, he definitely knew. Of course you didn’t want Seungcheol to walk you to your dorm.

The last time he had walked you back to your place was back when you were still together. The day before you had broken up was the last time, if memory served right. But all of them knew you hated walking home alone, and so if you refused, it would only make you suspicious. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed, nodding.

Perhaps you imagined it, but you could’ve sworn you saw Seungcheol sighing with relief all over his face. You brushed it off and bid goodbye to your friends, before you left the premises with your ex-boyfriend.

After two very long minutes of deafening silence, despite being in broad daylight in a populated area, you realized one thing. As much as you wished you hadn’t, you noticed Seungcheol’s change of attitude. It would always be something you would be able to pick up on, especially when it involved him.

You opened your mouth to ask about Yoojin, but for the second time that day, he cut you off, “Why did you break up with me?” Well shit, you thought. You would much rather be asking about his girlfriend than have him rehash the past like that. You took a deep breath.

“Because of college, at first. Uh, I didn’t think we’d be in each other’s lives and I didn’t think we’d last. And uh, then I realized our relationship was going nowhere,” you lied.

You had to admit, you didn’t think you could lie so blatantly about the breakup. But you couldn’t find it in you to tell him the truth; that you had never wanted to break up with him and that you had done it so he could be happy with Yoojin. Which often sounded childish and stupid, when you would think about it. You just knew that you would do it again, for him, if you had to.

“So you’re happy now?” he asked, which automatically made you frown. “I guess...” you shrugged. “I’m doing alright, classes are okay, I have great friends.” He nodded, listening to you.

You sighed. You couldn’t not mention the fact that there was something off. You took big steps forward, stepping in front of him and turned around so you could make him stop.

“What’s up with you, Choi Seungcheol?” you asked. He was being weird again. “Listen, if it’s about the Yeongsik thing, you have nothing to worry about. I know he’s an asshole and I’m not dating him, nor will I, ever,” you said.

He briefly shook his head, “I know that. I know you.” You raised an eyebrow at the man in front of you. Then what could be the problem? The last time he had been acting so off, it led you to find out he had fallen for someone else. You immediately frowned, “Something happened with Yoojin?”

For a second, he looked at you confused, with a hint of panic, but he tried to compose himself the next second. Too late, you had noticed. He had always done a poor job at concealing his emotions. “Something did, didn’t it?”

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact at all costs, “We broke up,” he admitted. They what?? “What?! Wait. What happened?” you asked. Your mind was racing at this point.

You had ended your relationship with Seungcheol, pushing him into someone else’s arms, just so that you could see him be happy. And they had broken up? “It’s fine. It was five months ago.”

You had spent three years heartbroken about this decision that you had made. Every time you started to regret making that decision, you reminded yourself that he was happy with Yoojin. And that was what you had wanted for him.

The past few months had been harder on you, especially since your friendship with Seungcheol had gotten back to normal. Back to how things were before you got together. But, they weren’t together anymore?

“I thought you loved her,” you stated, trying to keep your composure. He sighed, “I did,” then he corrected himself, “I do! But that’s just it... I love her, but I wasn’t- I’m not in love with her.” He added something that you couldn’t quite make out. But it felt like you somehow knew where this was going, especially the second he looked up to stare directly into your eyes.

Unintentionally, you took a step back, shaking your head as your eyes started to water. And this time, Seungcheol didn’t try to hide the panic or the confusion that was written on his face. “Oh God,” you breathed. This was happening.

“You can’t do this. Please, don’t do this,” you pleaded. Suddenly you were eighteen again. “y/n...” You lifted your hand, wordlessly asking him for a minute to think as you noticed how much your hand was shaking. “y/n, talk to me, please,” he asked in the softest tone you had heard him use in a long time.

You clenched your shaking hand into a tight fist and closed your eyes shut, as a scoff escaped your lips. It came out as a strangled laugh, maybe more of a sob, as you were on the verge of crying again. All this heartache... Racing back into your heart. “I was heartbroken,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“y/n.” You looked up at Seungcheol, noticing the worry written all over his face. “I broke up with you because I thought you were in love with her,” you said.

You scoffed, running a hand through your hair as your eyes drifted to the scenery around you, “And I told Haeyoung to set her up with you...” you added, not speaking to anyone in particular. How lucky you were that there wasn’t anyone anywhere near you.

“Why?” he asked, raising his voice so you could hear him. “Because I love you and I wanted you to be happy,” you exclaimed, your head snapping in his direction, vision blurry with tears.

There was silence again. Upon seeing his reaction, you realized you had messed up. And so you did the only thing that crossed your mind, you took off running.

Luckily for you, Seungcheol didn’t seem to be on your trail and after a while you realized you didn’t really know where you were going, so you stopped altogether and pulled out your phone. You scrolled through your most recent contacts, taking a breather and swiped right to call your best friend.

“y/n?” Haeyoung’s voice filled your ears. “He- He’s not in love with her. They broke up. He said- he said they broke up months ago. And then I told him. Haeyoung, I- I told him I still loved him. He knows. I-” your best friend cut you off, “Wait. Wow, slow down, please. Breathe.”

You took a deep breath. “What happened?” she asked. You breathed in again, walking back to your dorm and started over, explaining how you and Seungcheol had ended up having that conversation. “y/n, that’s a good thing! You don’t have to carry that anymore. So why did you call me?”

You cleared your throat and scratched the back of your neck, “I panicked... And I might have- ran away, literally.” She yelled your full name as you reached your building, scolding you about doing things like that, causing you to sigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you spotted Seungcheol, sitting on the floor at your door. “Shit,” you muttered. The moment he saw you, he stood up and walked up to you carefully, offering a smile. “I figured I’d catch you here.” Of course. You thought about Haeyoung’s words.

“You’re not gonna run away again, are you?” You softly chuckled and shook your head to reassure your freshly perm-haired friend, “Not making any promises.” Getting Haeyoung back on the line, you told her you would call her back later and hung up.

You sighed, “I’m sorry.” Seungcheol frowned, which somehow made his light brown eyes pop. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said. You shook your head, “But I do. You don’t deserve any of this, Seungcheol. I- I put myself through this, I know that. And because of that, I’m scared. That’s why I reacted that way,” you explained.

“Cheol, I would break up with you again if it meant that you’d be happy. And I’m scared that all of this will happen again.”

He reached for your hand and squeezed it. It had been years since he had held your hand like that. “y/n, I don’t think I’ll ever love someone as much as I love you,” he admitted, as it brought a small smile to your face.

He intertwined your fingers together, looking down at how your hands fit together as you took a glimpse at his face. “I’ve been in love with you for more than five years. You have to believe that’s enough.” You slowly nodded, accepting and knowing that he would never hurt you in any way, not on purpose anyway.

“Yeah?” he asked, bringing your hand up to his face, giving it a soft peck before smiling. You nodded again, having trouble finding words. “So we’re good? You still love me?” You chuckled at the face he made before confirming that you were. “You’re a lot more cheesy, but I’m still in love with you.”

He looked at you for a moment and the look in his eyes turned serious. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked. “We will be,” you replied, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“Do you wanna stay? It kinda feels empty without a roommate,” you offered. He gave you a smile that put his dimples on full display and accepted to stay over. You reached for your keys in your pocket and walked to your door.

He took the keys from you, smiling at you when you frowned, and he unlocked and opened the door for you. You let him walk in first, reaching for the light switch to turn it on.

“I can’t believe you slept with Kim Yeongsik, though,” he commented, slumping on what he correctly guessed was your bed. “Oh my God, Cheol,” you groaned as you closed the door behind you.

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #scoups #scoups imagines #finally omg #cheesy as hell if you ask me #but that's ok

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seungminotes · 5 years ago

Text

Charming Worries Away

Hello @n8dlesoupguk I was your skz secret santa! I had so much fun talking to you this month and you are so so sweet I wuv you now. I know this is a bit later for you because time zones boo :( but I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and enjoyed today to the fullest! Hope you enjoy this, much love.

word count: 1.5k

desc. / warning: hogwarts au, Gryffindor!Jisung x reader (no house specified), gender neutral

note: hope you enjoy!

It was already past the newly implaced strict curfew, but you couldn’t get the sound of Jisung’s frantic whispering of enchantations out of your head. There was no doubt the guy was practicing his charms that evening when he skipped supper in the Great Hall, without even giving you the usual heads up when he missed.

You knew his upcoming NEWTs were stressing him out as of late, his Charms exam more than any other, as expected from the forgetful boy. He’d always managed to change up spells a bit, placing emphasis on the wrong parts of words, even replacing some with awfully incorrect ones. You wish you could somehow help the troubled Gryffindor, but you knew Jisung was often too prideful to ever actually accept your help.

Which is why you were currently tiptoeing towards the astronomy tower, exactly where he was to take his exam next week. He’d been practicing there for the past few days, figuring out mnemonic devices he could possibly use from the surroundings to little avail. He was well aware of the great possibility he had in failing this one NEWT and it slightly discouraged him in his hopes of someday becoming a great auror, like the ones he’d see on the daily newspapers the owls would drop during breakfast. Ever since his first year, he’d dreamed of becoming such a figure, having been muggle-born though, he knew there was a lot to learn. But he never thought his forgetful tendencies could ever hold him back this much.

When you opened the creaky door to the Astronomy Tower’s roof, Jisung was sure enough hunched over his Charms notebook that you had binded the week prior, insisting that he stop lugging around and losing dozens of sheets of paper around campus. You had even offered to transcribe them into a separate book for him, worried his awful handwriting was only contributing to his trouble in remembering the right words to charms (though you hesitated in specifying this reasoning). He of course rejected your offer, adamant on getting by on his own somehow.

“Sung,” you called.

Jisung promptly looked up, sighing internally as his gaze was met with your glowing eyes looking down towards him. He immediately took notice of the aluminum wrapped bowl you held, surely from the kitchen you so often would sneak to this late at night with him on weekends.

He stood to take the bowl from your clammy hands, placing it on the roof’s concrete barrier, just at his own chest height.

“It’s late,” he sighed, this time externally, heaving a deep breath after. He wouldn’t normally mind meeting up with you this late, but this wasn’t the time to be fooling around, his Charms NEWT was the very first he was to take next week, he couldn’t risk getting distracted now.

“Benefits of a prefect in training-in-training I guess,” you shrugged before pulling out the badge given to you earlier that night.

Jisung’s face quickly ridded itself of any signs of exhaustion and frustration, his bright gummy smile on full display at the sight. You’d wanted to be a prefect for a while now, and though he never understood why, he was suddenly so full of happiness for you, momentarily forgetting his own worries.

He quickly pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Sneaking out will be a lot easier now huh,” he teased.

“I could deduct points, watch out,” you countered, causing him to scoff with a feigned hurt face.

Your banter soon died down from the news and Jisung’s worries suddenly came crashing down onto him once again.

“I’m gonna fail,” he signed, still somehow maintaining a small smile from before. He knew his dream of becoming an auror was crushed if he couldn't pass this measly test.

“So what if you do?” you stood by him, looking over the roof’s barrier over to the darkness of the Forbidden Forest

He scoffed again. “What do you mean ‘so what?’ I can’t be an auror if I fail, stupid,” he ruffled your hair harshly.

“You could always retake it you know, there’s no shame in it, but Jisung…” you began to reason, but soon trailed off not knowing how to put things into words correctly enough for this conversation to be of any help for Jisung.

“But…” he mocked.

“I probably couldn’t be an auror anyay, right? Are there even muggle-born aurors? Do you think I could make it?” he asked, turning his gaze towards you, surprised to meet your eyes on him again. He was letting his thoughts eat him up now and you of course knew this because Jisung would never voice out such insecurities, he was your token Gryffindor, prideful, strong, self-assured, sometimes cocky kind of Gryffindor, a poster boy for the damn house, though muggle-born.

“Jisung, of course you can make it. You’re Han Jisung, the best seeker Hogwarts has ever seen, the ‘best Defence Against the Dark Arts student’ Snape has ever had, you’re good at everything you’ve ever touched, are you kidding me? I wish I was half as good as you with the spells you can barely cast sometimes and I’ve been in this magic shit my whole life. Are you seriously doubting yourself now, oh so prideful Gryffindor?” Your attempt at reassuring him was not a complete miss, Jisung’s heart swelled at the mention of your admiration for his skills, but that Snape comment did the trick in getting him to show off his bright smile again.

“Snape did not say that,” he laughed off.

“Best muggle-born I’ve ever met,” you mocked in the best impression you could muster, placing that hateful emphasis on the ‘muggle-born’ as your dreaded professor so often does.

“That’s a compliment if I’ve ever heard one, take it or leave it, that’s the best you’re getting from that grinch.”

“I’ll make him give me a better one, one of these days,” he sighed.

“That sounds like my Sung,” you reach over to his hand clutching his notes, gently taking them from him, unknowing of the red spreading all over Jisung’s face at your comment. ‘Your Sung’ he repeated in his head.

“You should eat and get to bed, you’re pressuring yourself too much these days, you’re gonna jumble up your spells in there,” you playfully knock on his forehead.

Your caring nature isn’t unusual, but for reasons unknown to Jisung at this very moment, it makes him nervous. He feels a slight bump in his throat, keeping him from voicing out his refusal at the idea of heading to bed and taking back his book, his nerves are tingling and he feels his heart speed up and his hands begin to clam up as he takes of the aluminum foil of the warm container of food, most likely charmed by you to stay so hot on such a cold night.

You stand so close yet so unaware of the fumbling feelings of the boy standing right beside you, flipping through his notes and once again eyeing his scribbles inscribed messily with the quill he was somehow still so ill-accustomed to.

“My offer to rewrite these still stands, you know, can you even read this?” your eyes narrow to attempt at reading a page yourself.

“I think I can read what I write, thanks,” he awkwardly laughs off, cheeks full of rice.

“Hmmm, I think I’ll do it anyway, free of charge, you won’t even owe me anything, promise,” you insist, watching his head slightly tilt down in embarrassment.

“Jisung, you know that I’m always willing to help you right? You don’t have to ask. I’m right here for you.” you assure him.

‘You don’t have to though,” he explains, sighing once again as he lifts the spoonful of rice to his mouth again.

“Jisung, I want to,” you argue, firm in your words, this time clutching the boy’s arm gently, applying slight pressure to assure him of your presence. Your eyes deadpanned on his, your expression was so serious yet so vulnerable at this very moment and Jisung woud have to be stupid to not realize the implictness of your words.

Jisung’s heart surged at the contact and he suddenly wished he would've just brushed off your offer and let you go through the pain of copying his notes for him.

He was suddenly all too aware of your hand on his arm and the gaze you held so intently on him and the meaning of every little thing you two had ever done together. He wondered how long he’d felt these nerves for and could not pinpoint an exact moment when this increased heartbeat began to feel familiar with your touch. It could have been years ago for all he knew. His thoughts were spiraling way too fast for his comfort.

“I want you to,” he suddenly blurted much louder than he intended to, he realized as he watched you flinch.

“Good,” you meekly responded, taking a deep breath of relief at his anwer.

“Good,” he whispered before slightly closing his eyes with the cool breeze and sighing one more time.

#skz #skz imagines #han jisung imagines #han jisung #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids fluff #han jisung fluff #han jisung drabbles #jisung fluff #jisung imgines #jisung #han jisung blurbs #stray kids drabbles

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live-laugh-lesbian80083 · 4 years ago

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La Vie en Rose

1 - Don't Forget About Me

Summary: Everything about her is perfect. Her grades, her looks, her personality, everything. Desiree Hale is known as little miss perfect all throughout middle school. But when she makes the transition from being in eighth grade to being a freshman, everything changes. Not because of the change in her surroundings, but because of a girl. A girl with gorgeous brown locks and stunning eyes to match, with a voice that sounds like an angel and a smile that could melt anyone's heart. The moment Desiree laid her eyes on the girl, she knew there was something different about herself.

Word Count: 3,205

Warnings: None

Please do NOT copy, rewrite, or translate onto another site. Permission will not be given if asked for it.

Water splashes on the light gray concrete, soaking the people nearby. Meat sizzles on the grill, sending a delectable aroma through the air. Adults and children cover the lawn, chatter fills the surrounding space. The Sun's rays beat upon everything it can reach, making anything hot to the touch. This is what a Fourth of July party looks like. People having fun interacting with each other and forming relationships with people they had just met.

But not me. I've been sitting in the corner underneath an enormous oak tree with my journal full of short stories and other random notes. No one has bothered talking to me. It's not like anyone would want to talk with the girl who has her face buried in a journal. They're too busy enjoying the sun and partying. I'm not a big fan of the sun. Or parties. I'd much rather sit inside and read or write all day.

I turned the page in my notebook and began jotting down random thoughts that pop into my mind. As I looked up to relax my eyes, I noticed a girl my age approaching me in a bright blue two-piece swimsuit with a bright smile on her face. I smiled back and watched as she sat next to me on the grass.

"So, what brings you to this miserable party?" She asked, her smile not fading.

"My parents are friends with the hosts." I deadpanned. "You?"

"My parents are the hosts." She chuckled.

Silence. We stared into the distance and watched my little sister -who's only six years old- jump into the pool with a bright pink ring sitting around her waist as my dad caught her. I smiled when I heard her screams of joy.

"What's your name?" The girl said as she cleared her throat.

"Oh, it's Desiree." I stuttered, clearly being thrown off guard by the sudden question. "What's yours?"

"Zoe." She replied.

More silence. That's enough of our conversation. It's obvious neither of us gets out there or talk to others often. We've only said six things to each other. And every time we try to converse, it always starts with her asking a question.

"Wanna come to the pool with me? I think it's a lot cooler than sitting out in the sun." Zoe comments. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Actually, that sounds nice. I'll be right back." I said, standing up as my arms naturally spread to the sky to release tension.

"If you're changing, I could show you where the bathrooms are." She commented.

"That's alright. Your mom told me where they were when we got here." I replied, grabbing my bag and hurrying into the house and towards the bathroom.

Once I was inside, I quickly stripped off my clothing and changed into my black two piece. I turned to look at the mirror and pulled my dark brown hair into a high ponytail to prevent it from getting wet. Smiling, I made my way out of the bathroom and found Zoe standing by the door, waiting for me.

The two of us ran to the pool and dove into the deep end with grins spread across our faces. Fully submerged in the water, I opened my eyes and looked to my right to see Zoe watching me. I smirked and began swimming to the surface. As I broke the fine line between the water and air, I felt my lungs gasp for air and my wet hair stick to the back of my neck. There was no point in that ponytail. I quickly stroked to the edge of the pool where I met with Zoe and got greeted with a splash of water to the face. I let out a dramatic gasp and pushed water towards her as well. Before we knew it, we made our way back out to the middle of the pool again in a huge water war. The two of us looked up to see my dad running towards us from the surface. I took in as much air as possible into my lungs and dove under the water just before he got to the pool. Zoe continued swimming in place and tried to protect herself from the oncoming tidal wave, but it was no use. Dad hit the water, and I felt myself get pushed towards the other side of the pool. As I felt the water calm down, I quickly resurfaced and swallowed a breath of fresh air.

"Dinner's ready, girls." Dad laughed as he swam over to us.

"That wasn't necessary." I said, brushing loose strands of wet hair behind my ears.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you heard me." He replied as he stepped out of the pool. "I was also extremely hot."

Zoe and I glanced at each other and laughed, making our way out of the water. We hopped in line and draped brightly colored towels around our shoulders to dry off a bit. I grabbed a paper plate and collected a hotdog, some condiments and a small bag of Doritos. I thanked the man standing by the grill for the meal and scanned the yard for Zoe to find her sitting under the tree we met at. Smirking, I rushed to the grass. Standing at her side, I placed my food onto the ground and lay the towel flat next to where Zoe had done the same. I then sat criss-crossed on the fabric and dug into my meal.

"Tell me something about yourself." I prompted, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I uh, I play guitar and bass. I'm planning on trying out for the Jazz Band at my high school at the beginning of the year." She replied simply.

"What school are you going to?" I questioned.

"James Madison. You?" Zoe answered.

"Wait, no way, me too!"

"Really? What classes are you taking?"

I told Zoe almost every single one of my classes. Art, choir, French, and theatre for my electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math one, and world geography for my core classes. Zoe's classes were a lot more complex than mine. Band, creative writing, and debate for her electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math two, and AP human geography for her core classes. Not to mention if she makes it into the jazz band she'll have an extra-curricular.

We talked about our friends and lives in middle school. How I was perfect with grades and had little to no issues while she had to deal with drama and barley passing classes. Why we both made such big changes for high school is a significant question that neither of us know the answer to. The conversation dragged away from school and ventured into our home lives. Zoe told me about her brother Connor, and I told her about my little sister Brooke. She talked about how Connor has changed. How they used to be friends and would play with each other when they were younger and how they've drifted over the years. How much she wishes they could be close again and how it can't happen because of things he's done.

Zoe has dealt with so much shit throughout her life. From fights with her brother to being ignored by her parents, all she wants is to be seen. Usually I'd say the two of us are different people, but in reality, we aren't. After Brooke was born, I felt lost. My life took a sharp turn I didn't see coming. But yet again, doesn't everyone who has younger siblings been through the same thing I went through? I bet it doesn't last as long for them as it did for me. The rejection, I mean. It's been six years. Six damn years and my parents still give Brooke the attention they gave her when she was born. And what have I been doing? I've tried getting them to notice me, but it never works. I learned how to paint and made them something for their anniversary. It ended up in the basement. I drew my dad something for his birthday and it ended up in the basement. I learned how to sculpt things out of clay and made a sculpture for my mom and it ended up in the basement. Everything Brooke makes gets hung up or put on display. Everything I make gets put away. On the outside, we appear as a happy family. On the inside, we appear as a happy family. But it doesn't feel like it.

I finished eating quicker than I had expected and offered to throw Zoe's trash away for her. After many tries, she gave in and let me, telling me to grab her a Dr. Pepper while I was by the drinks. I complied and grabbed myself one.

"Thanks." She said as she popped the tab on the can, sending small droplets of the soda into the air.

"It's no problem." I replied, doing the same.

Everyone at the party had resumed their activities before the meal in no time, which meant Zoe and I had returned to the pool. We were floating on a raft together, chatting about anything that came to mind, when we suddenly felt someone flip the raft, throwing us into the water. I screamed and accidentally swallowed a bit of water. Zoe did the same. We both resurfaced, coughing the liquid out of our lungs while diabolical laughter rang through the air.

"What the hell was that for, Connor?" Zoe yelled, continuing to cough.

"Your screams were hilarious!" He laughed, falling dramatically into the water.

I eventually caught my breath and finally got a glance at what this Connor character looks like. He has pale white skin and unruly dark brown hair. He's incredibly slim with little to no meat on his bones. I brushed loose strands out of my face and tucked them behind my ears. A wave came from behind me, water splashing across Connor's face. I turned to see a wicked grin on Zoe's face. I know exactly what's happening. A water fight. I quickly dove under the water as the fight began, the siblings splashing each other with water. Reaching the concrete wall of the pool, I swung my leg onto the ground and popped myself out. I cautiously ran over to a bucket of water balloons and grabbed one, chucking it at Connor's back. He turned around with a playful glare, paddling himself towards me.

"Shit, shit shit shit shit." I muttered under my breath, grabbing as many balloons as I could, sprinting onto the grass.

I heard Connor leave the water and his wet feet against the concrete. I turned around to see Zoe climbing out of the pool herself, rushing to the pool house. Getting distracted with Zoe's actions, I felt a balloon hit the back of my thigh. My head whipped around to see Connor running in the opposite direction.

Zoe ran up next to me and handed me a super soaker, saying, "Those balloons aren't getting you anywhere."

I gladly took the gun and searched the yard for her brother when I saw an arm disappear behind a bright green bush. Pointing at the bush, we nodded at each other and sneaked up on the boy. I verged left while she went right. Slipping into the groups of people, we approached the bush with smirks on our faces. Zoe held up her fingers, silently counting us down from three. Three, two, one! Both of us blindly fired our super soakers at the bush, hoping we hit Connor. Swifter than we expected, he emerged from the bush and threw his hands into the air in surrender.

"Okay! I surrender!" He yelled.

"We'll forgive you if you get us popsicle." Zoe said, not putting her gun down.

"That's not how surrender works." Connor fought.

I squirted him with water. "Well, it's how it works around here."

"Jesus, fine." he replied, walking over to the cooler with his hands remaining in the air.

"Keep your hands where we can see them." Zoe called out.

"I am." Connor said. He grabbed three rocket pops and headed back over to us. "Have we made peace?"

"Yes." Zoe and I said in unison, each of us taking one popsicle.

As all of us peeled the wrapper off the cool treat, Connor and Zoe's dad approached us. "We're starting fireworks in the front if you'd like to join us."

"We'll be there in a minute." Zoe smiled.

She snatched the wrappers from all our hands and tossed them into the trash. I hurried over to my bag and slipped on my pair of blue shorts, completely disregarding my shirt. No one will care if I'm wearing a swim top and shorts. And besides, it's way too hot. She held out her arm to me to which I took, hooking my arm around hers. For only knowing each other for a few hours, I think we're getting along well. I've never clicked with anyone so easily before so this feels too easy. Maybe Zoe's being forced to hang out with me. It doesn't feel forced, though. Or maybe our personalities function perfectly together. Whatever it is, I don't think it matters. The bond we have is like a friendship that started many years ago. But it's only been hours. And hopefully, it lasts much longer than hours. Maybe we can have what those friendships that last for years have.

Skipping towards the gate that separates the backyard from the front, I grinned and started humming the theme to The Wizard Of Oz to myself. Zoe must have heard me, for she began singing the song. I laughed and sang along as we joined the rest of the party. Glancing around the area, I found an empty spot on the grass. I pulled Zoe to the spot with me and noticed it was right next to my family.

"So that's where you went." My dad commented, throwing a handful of glow sticks at me.

"Did you not just see me chasing Connor around with a squirt gun?" I questioned, taking a seat on the grass, pulling Zoe down with me.

"Apparently not." He replied.

Zoe, Connor, and I each grabbed a handful of the glow sticks off the grass and cracked them in one snap. Light illuminated in our hands and I took one of my red sticks and poked Zoe's shoulder. She poked me back with a blue one. And the war began. We poke each other back and forth with the glow sticks, breaking into a fit of giggles.

"How about you two use the glow sticks for something other than poking each other?" My mom recommended.

"No, I don't think we will." I replied, continuing to poke Zoe.

"Yeah, this is a lot more fun." Zoe added, poking my arm.

After poking each other for way too long, we tired of it and grabbed those plastic connectors and connected the ends of the glow sticks, forming bracelets just in time for the sun to set, putting us into darkness, the glow of streetlights illuminating our surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright white light appear. My head snapped to look at the light to find it was someone handing a sparkler to a small child. I smirked and turned to Zoe to find her looking at me. Her cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink as her gray eyes flickered away from my blue ones.

"Hey, wanna go get some sparklers?" I asked.

"Sure!" She smiled.

We headed over to the table that held all the fireworks and grabbed a few sparklers. A man neither of us knew lit them up for us, and off we went into the middle of the street. We waved the sticks around in the air, creating patterns with the sparks. I tried spelling my name in cursive, but spelling Desiree in cursive isn't the easiest thing, and neither is Zoe. Instead, we drew pictures like hearts, stars, and cats. Yes, we drew cats in the air with sparklers. Why would we not? Is that not something that everyone does? Eventually the flammable portion of the sparkler was no more, and we had to toss them into a bucket of water on the curb.

The rest of the night was full of laughter and pure joy, something I sadly haven't experienced in a long time. Fireworks were exploding around every corner you turned. People were running in the street with explosives in their hands, with no fear in their eyes. Zoe and I quickly tired of the noise and went inside. Zoe dragged me upstairs to her room. And it looks exactly what you'd think it would look like. Periwinkle bedding with pink decorative pillows and a white chunky knit blanket displayed across the foot of the bed. The walls are a lighter shade of blue with pink flowers painted on top. White panels cover the bottom half of the walls, creating a sense of contrast. Above her bed sits a display of all the pictures she's taken with her friends and boy, is there a lot.

"Sorry, it's kind of messy right now." Zoe apologized.

"It's alright. My room is in worse condition right now." I laughed. She laughed too.

She began explaining to me how she discovered her bedroom was the perfect place to view fireworks. By simply flicking off the lights and pulling up beanbags to the window, it gave us a front-row seat to a firework show with no noise. You can see the explosions of bright colors for miles and miles across the city. Some are mere specs of light, while others are large bursts of color that illuminate the room. The sounds of the explosions are small pops, some being more powerful than others. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for quite a while before a pair of feet came down the hallway and towards the bedroom.

"Des, it's time to go." My mom said, cracking open the door.

I groaned and stood up. "Thanks for making this party a lot more tolerable." Zoe said.

"It's no problem." I replied. "So, maybe I'll see you at school?"

"Yeah, maybe. It was nice meeting you." Zoe stood and followed me out of her room.

"You too." I smiled.

Once downstairs, Zoe joined a group of people in the backyard while I headed out to the front door behind my family. I slid into the backseat and pulled my phone out of my backpack to see multiple texts from my friends. I responded to them one by one and quickly resumed my quiet and reserved personality I had at the beginning of the day. Eventually all my notifications had receded, and it left me staring out the window of the car, watching as buildings and fireworks sped past us in blurs. Suddenly I gained the feeling you get when you think you forget something somewhere, but you don't know what it is. After sitting and thinking about it for a bit, I realized what I had forgotten. I forgot to ask for Zoe's number.

#dear evan hansen fanfic #dear evan hansen #deh fanfic #deh #zoe murphy #oc #connor murphy #larry murphy #zoe murphy x oc #bisexual fanfic #pansexual fanfic #lgbtq fanfic

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sebinvld · 5 years ago

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“dark side, i search for your dark side, but what if i’m alright right here? i cut off my nose just to spite my face, then i hate my reflection for years & years.”

tl;dr: sebin puts his feelings on paper. featuring: @taevld, @vldgeonwoo, @ryunhovld, @vldhyunjun. wc: 1,953.

the simple truth: sebin is an inconvenience.

it isn’t something that very many people have outright told him, but it’s a conclusion that he can easily come to on his own. his impulsive actions and persistent enmity always come back around to hurt not only him, but those closest to him, too; he has a hard time controlling himself, and because of it, everyone suffers.

and someone who makes others suffer definitely isn’t convenient to have around.

but as self-aware as sebin is, the awareness isn’t enough to silence the monster that makes apologizing so hard — pride. to apologize means to admit that you’ve done something wrong, and to admit that you’ve done wrong means that you’ll have to try to be better. sebin doesn’t want to try. maybe he would’ve wanted to try years ago, but not now. he’s grown into his sardonic persona; it’s comfortable for him, safe.

unfortunately, comfort doesn’t erase guilt, and sebin is just as susceptible to guilt as anyone else is. it’s because he tries to mute the guilt that it stings so intensely; especially late at night, when he’s trying to sleep. it becomes an acid that eats away his insides, making him feel rotten and empty.

it’s the reason why he’s still awake right now: the digital clock on his desk tells him that it’s a little after 4am, and he knows that he shouldn’t be awake. his body knows it, too, because his eyes keep closing in somnolence. but he refuses to give in because for the first time in years, he’s attempting to do something that’s never been easy for him: express his feelings.

he’s been trying for hours now, and all he has to show for it is a trashbin full of crumpled pages, ink stains on the side of his left hand, and one lousy phrase.

FOR HYUNJUN.

he had thought that this would be easy. starting out small. the members of danger are far from being the only people he’s ever done wrong, and admittedly, he hasn’t been half as cruel to them as he’s been to some others, so he doesn’t have near as many things to apologize for. but maybe it isn’t even the apologies that are making this so hard. he doesn’t want to leave it at just apologies, he wants to show his gratitude for them, too, and that’s something that might be even harder for him than apologizing.

he isn’t sure why.

if you care about someone, you should let them know before it’s too late, and sebin constantly feels like he’s running out of time. not because of any real time constraints, considering how many years of their lives they’ll be spending together and have already spent together, but because he has a tendency to push his luck, and no one has a bottomless well of patience.

the sun doesn’t have patience either, and sebin knows that if he doesn’t get these letters written soon, the daylight will steal his time and he’ll never get them written at all. so, he puts his pen down to crack his knuckles, picks it back up, and then starts writing again.

FOR HYUNJUN.

the most dedicated person i know.

i’m sorry for making fun of your anime collection. i know that part of friendship is making fun of each other, but i always go too far, and i don’t really know why i do that. i don’t really want to hurt your feelings, but it seems like that’s what i aim for, huh? i’m going to try to stop doing that.

i think it’s really cool that you’re so dedicated to it. you must be really passionate about it, and i can’t even imagine what it’s like to be so into something. maybe that’s why i feel obligated to make fun of you for it. because i don’t know what it’s like.

anyway, i’d like it if you could send me a list of animes to watch. i can’t promise that i’ll actually watch them, but i’ll give it a shot. maybe then we can have something to talk about.

i know it’s been years now, but i don’t think i’ve ever apologized for the way that i treated you when we first met and the way that i still am sometimes. i’m sorry.

you’re a very warm person, hyunjun. i respect you a lot, even though it doesn’t always seem like it. i’m glad to spend my youth with someone like you.

one letter written. it’s brief, but it says everything that sebin wants to say—everything he can think of in the moment, at least—and besides, it’s better than the blank page that he’d had before. if he thinks of anything else that he wants to say later on, it’s not like he can’t write another letter.

he opens the left drawer of the desk, grabbing a roll of tape and the kakao friends keychains he’d bought. they aren’t anything special, but he hadn’t wanted to spend a lot of money on a plan that he might not even follow through with. plus, even though they had been cheap, they do all remind sebin of his members, in some way or another.

he folds up the letter and attaches it to the keychain of ryan with a piece of tape, then rips another piece of paper from his notebook and begins the next letter.

FOR TAEWOO.

the most patient person i know.

your patience used to irritate me, to be honest. but i’m sure you know that already. but i’ve grown to respect it a lot.

i wasn’t always kind to you, and i’m still not. i’m sorry for all of the times that i’ve lashed out. i’m sorry for all of the times that i’ve made you feel annoying. you aren’t annoying!!! read that, and then read it again. lock it into your brain. i know how terrible it is to feel annoying, and i want you to know that you aren’t.

thank you for being kind to me when i don’t deserve it and thank you for believing in me when i find it hard to believe in myself. you’ve made the past few years so much easier than they would’ve otherwise been. i could never thank you enough for that.

oh, and thank you for making me laugh. they say laughter is the best medicine, so i feel pretty lucky to have you around.

i think you might be the nicest person i know. i admire your kindness and i hope that i can learn from it in time. the idea of debuting doesn’t seem so terrible since it’s with someone like you.

the second letter is finished and for a second, sebin lets himself feel happy about it. but then he glances towards the window and sees the sky changing from black into medium blue — the sun is beginning to rise. he guesses that he could skip his morning run to finish the letters, but he doesn’t want to. sighing, he grabs the keychain of tube and quickly attaches the folded up letter to it.

immediately, he has his pen in his hand again and he’s writing—trying to, at least, but he finds that all of a sudden, it doesn’t want to write. he scribbles harshly in the upper corner of the paper, to no avail. he’s just about to search for another pen when he realizes the cap is on it. that’s the only reason it hasn’t been writing. “fucking idiot,” he mutters passively, removing the cap.

FOR RYUNHO.

the funniest person i know.

i just want to say thank you for every single night you’ve ever spent with me. i love our convenience store trips, late night adventures and ridiculous conversations more than you could ever know.

before i met you, i didn’t really know much about friendship. it’s not like i didn’t have friends before, but i never had any that i was particularly close to. i guess the situation that we’re in is what made us so close, and as much as i hate training, i’m glad that it made our paths cross.

i’m really proud of you. you’re one of the coolest people i know (even though you’re a fucking nerd), and i can’t wait to brag about you to anyone who will listen. god knows you won’t brag about yourself, you humble little goblin, you.

i think you and i are on the same wavelength. i’ve always felt far away from other people, but not from you. thank!!! you!!! for being you!!!

my attitude’s kinda terrible sometimes, and i’m sorry for any of the times that you’ve had to witness it (or were a victim of it). i’m going to try to be better.

i’m so excited to debut with you!!!! life is a highway and i’m glad we’re in the same car.

he isn’t sure when it started, but he realizes that he’s crying when one of his tears slips from his cheek and onto the paper. he tries to dab it away, but it smears the last word. “are you fucking kidding me?” he huffs under his breath, scratching the word out completely and rewriting it after the horrible blob of mess. he raises one hand to rub his eyelids in hopes of ending the tears at once, then folds the letter and attaches it to a keychain of muzi.

only one more to go. undoubtedly, it’ll be the most difficult to write.

FOR GEONWOO.

the hardest-working person i know.

i know we’ve never gotten along, and although all the blame doesn’t belong to me, i know that a lot of it does. i’ve always been harsh towards you. i’m sorry.

i know that you probably won’t believe it. you might even think that i’m joking. but i know that the way i treat you isn’t fair, and i know that it must be difficult to deal with since you’re trying to chase a dream. you shouldn’t have to share a dream with someone who makes things so difficult.

i think it’s really cool that you worked so hard to get to where you are. you have a lot of dedication, geonwoo, and that dedication will get you so far in life. i know it will.

i want you to know that i don’t really think that you’re a nobody. maybe what i think means nothing to you, but you’re just as good as any of us. i’m not embarrassed to share a stage with you.

i’d like to say that the future will be easier for us, but i can’t promise that. i want to be completely honest in this letter, so all i can say with certainty is that i am sorry.

i’m looking forward to seeing who you become in the future.

just as he writes the last letter, he realizes that the sun is almost completely up. luckily, it’s still early enough that he can go for his run and be back by the time that the others are waking up (maybe a little after), but he’s still shocked that he spent the entire night working on these letters. what a joke.

he attaches geonwoo’s letter to a keychain of apeach, then stands up for the first time in hours. he leaves taewoo’s letter on the desk in their room, then takes the others and slips them carefully under the doors of the other members’ rooms.

he tries not to overthink the decision — before he can, he goes to get ready for his run and leaves, only hoping that the letters will be read before he returns so that he doesn’t have to feel the embarrassment firsthand.

#011. / solo.#here's a small moment of redemption #it won't last long #tw swearing #not much at all tho #just like...... twice #he's not going to stop being terrible towards the members

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fulcrumahsokaamidala · 6 years ago

Text

Saturday Spectacular #20

Happy Saturday!!! So this is me thanking awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and all the time they put into their fics. ♥️ I want to recommend spectacular fanfic stories I read this week! ♥️ They are posted in the order I read them. All posts will be tagged #saturday spectacular fic rec

Airplanes, Coffee and Deadlines by @hope-for-olicity | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Felicity begins working at a national newspaper where she has always dreamed of working. On her first day, she meets a very interesting photojournalist. The two will eventually work together but sparks fly immediately.

It Will Be Fun. Trust Me. by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Felicity doesn’t agree with Oliver’s plans for a relaxing vacation. How will she ever get him to see her perspective?

Just Follow Me. I Know the Area. by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Rewrite of the infamous 3x01 date.

Now? Now you listen to me? by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: It’s moving day for our favorite Queens.

I Know You Didn’t Ask For This by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Set in season 2.

I Might Just Kiss You by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Set in season 2.

Yes, I'm Aware. Your Point? by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Established Olicity.

No, And That's Final. by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Established Olicity. Shopping for a present for Thea. Sort of.

Can You Stay? by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Set in Season 2 after the Russia debacle.

There Is A Certain Taste To It by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Established Olicity.

Listen. I Can't Explain It. You'll Have To Trust Me. by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Set in season 2. Day 10 of Fictober. Felicity has a feeling.

It's Not Always Like This by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Another Season 2 ficlet.

What If I Don't See It? by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Set in Season 4.

I Never Knew It Could Be This Way by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Takes place in season 1.

I Can't Come Back. by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Set in Season 1 before Felicity finds out Oliver is the vigilante, or can be a completely separate AU.

That's What I'm Talking About by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Established Olicity builds a sunroom.

Listen. No, Really Listen. by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: The conversation that should have happened in Season 4 to prevent Season 5 stupidity.

There Is Just Something About Him by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: AU.

Secrets? I Love Secrets. by @stephswims | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Season 2.

I Wrote Your Name in My Heart by @alanna-the-lionheart | Arrow | Completed

Summary: One cold night in December, a group of men kidnap Oliver right in front of Felicity. They leave behind no ransom or demands, no hints to his fate, and no clues to follow. As the new year starts, the team begins to lose hope that they will ever be able to save the Green Arrow; all except Felicity, because Felicity just got Oliver back, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to lose him again. Her hope pays off in the end…but when they finally find Oliver, they find a broken man they barely recognize. Felicity vows to do whatever it takes to make the man she loves whole again. Started off as a future fic but is now technically alternate canon/AU (takes places starting in early December 2016).

The Legacy of a Queen by @inlovewithimpossibillity | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Series of one-shots from a future AU where Oliver and Felicity are able to raise their children after they defeat the Ninth Circle and Oliver hangs up the hood

Lucas’ Adventures by CSM | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Post 2x07. One late night in the foundry Oliver finds an abandoned baby, who he later finds out is his biological son, the only thing is the baby seems to think Felicity is his mother, which is impossible. Or is it? aka, Mia Smoak gets tired of her baby brother and sends him to 2013 where their unsuspecting parents find him. Companion piece to Impeccable Genetics.My contribution for the Olicity Summer Sizzle

Three Little Words by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Oliver Queen loves easily and fully. When he loves someone, those three little words come easily. For Tommy, love has always been something used against him. To Tommy, those three little words are dangerous.

There Are Two Sides to Every Story by @oneofthosecrazygirls-fics | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Susan Williams and Bethany Snow are two of Starling City’s most prominent journalists…but their styles are very different. This is a series of articles written by these two journalists from the time of the sinking of the Queen’s Gambit to the present day.**set in the What Should’ve Been ‘verse**

Ride or Die by @someonesaidcake | Arrow | WIP

Summary: They say that life is a series of events that we can neither predict nor control… And then there is him. He’s a bit of an enigma. ~*~*~*~Young CEO Felicity Smoak is just trying to make her mark on the world, yes she’s a little high strung and stressed, but it was what is was… until he came along. With eyes a girl could lose herself in and shoulder-tapping hair made for hanging on to Oliver Queen was reckless and carefree. Also, he rode a bike. He was everything she wasn’t and he was a sucker for those sinful red lips and everything that came with them.*main story complete, now snapshots*

missing the bullet by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: After Oliver and Mia's cage match wins in Russia, Mia ends up getting shot when Oliver tackles the man aiming at her rather than jumping in front of the bullet. (A sort of alternate spec for 8x05)

by your side by ppperaltiagooo | Brooklyn Nine-Nine | WIP

Summary: in which jake is sent undercover again and amy finds out she is pregnant while he’s gone.

Queen vs Queen by @muslimsmoak | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity Mignonette Renaldi Smoak has been handling being a princess pretty well so far. After all, she did only find out at the ripe young age of 15. Now, she is 21 and ready to take the throne of Genovia after being under the tutelage of her aunt. But there’s only one thing in her way, wait, actually two. Two things in her way: Oliver Queen, the hot young bachelor she danced with the night of her homecoming ball, who neglected to mention that he’s after her crown alongside his uncle Malcolm Merlyn, and the fact that she has to marry within 30 days if she wants to be Queen. Ray Palmer, Duke of Keystone is sweet, sensitive, intelligent and kind and seems like the perfect choice. But marrying and falling in love are two different things.

Silent Killers by @oliversmuse | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak have been married for three years and work CSI for the FBI. This story will follow their relationship and the cases they encounter.

Passion Killer by @oliversmuse | Arrow | Completed

A Shot in the Dark by @oliversmuse | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Part of the Silent Killer's series. Oliver and Felicity try to solve the case of a mother that was shot in her car on the way to work.

If I Can't Have You by @oliversmuse | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Oliver and Felicity are called to a murder suicide. As they work together they try to unravel why a wife would kill her husband and then herself and where the couples marriage took a wrong turn. Part of the "Silent Killers" series.

Kerosene and Desire by @smoaking-greenarrow | Arrow | Completed

Summary: An Olicity Notebook AU with a darker twist.

Alpha by @oliversmuse | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Oliver Queen was a powerful vampire that was captured by a group experimenting on hybrids. Turned into a hybrid that is half vampire and half wolf he is strong, fast and deadly. While in captivity he meets Dr. Felicity Smoak a hermatologist who is called in to monitor his feedings. All Oliver wants is to be free, away from the experiments and being in a cage, and strangely he feels he can trust Dr. Smoak. There is also an unspoken attraction between them that is forbidden. Can he convince her to set him free or will her attraction to him tempt her to keep him close?

Leaves of Change by @hope-for-olicity | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity Smoak returns to her small hometown of Silver Lake just in time for the Harvest Fest, she came home to get grounding and figure out what she wants to do next the last thing she expected was that she’d want to stay.

The Donor by @spaztronautwriter | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Felicity Smoak has always dreamed of being a mother and she isn't going to let a little thing like men stop her from making that dream come true. Having a baby by herself might just be biting off a little more than she can chew, but one way or the other it's about to change her whole life.

Like Real People Do by more0rLessJess | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity Smoak has had a rough couple of years and all she wants to do is move on with her life and start her own tech company. After an incident at Queen Consolidated, she quit and accepted a job working as a technical analyst and computer expert at the Starling City Police Department, where she’s stuck for at least another year thanks to the non-compete clause she signed in her Queen Consolidated contract. But as much as she’d rather be in the tech world, she does love being able to help others. Plus she gets to do that with the help of a certain Detective, who she may or may not be attracted too. Oliver Queen just finished five years in the Army Special Forces and is only working as an SCPD Detective because his best friend and fellow soldier, John Diggle, said it would be good for him to help pull his life together after years of hardships in the military. Oliver expected to hate the job, but what he never expected was meeting the IT girl with a heart of gold and her own demons to deal with. Captain Quentin Lance just wants a functioning police department.

And My Arms Will Be (Just Like Walls Around You) by imfallingforyoureyes102 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: But then lightning hits again, thunder fracturing the silence, and the Oliver that Thea sees is ten thousand miles away from the Oliver she knows. God, when she’d said he needed to let someone in she knew she was right. His face is pale white - his mouth drawn into a tight, pained line - and the way Oliver clutches the doorknob like a lifeline is enough to draw a panicked breath from Thea’s small frame. (Or, while Thea hides out in the kitchen during a party at the Queen Mansion, a thunderstorm hits and it's Oliver who's stumbling in through the doors on the verge of a panic attack. Thea's all too scared and all too shocked and it's only a certain blonde that comes tumbling in after him who is able to pull the shattered pieces of Oliver Queen back together).

Artemis by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When the Queen’s Gambit sank, two people were stranded on Lian Yu. Five years later, four came back.

Daughter of the Demon by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: What if in 1988 while traveling through Las Vegas Ra’s al Ghul bumps into a nice waitress named Donna Smoak and they have one-night stand together? A little bundle of joy named Felicity Smoak is the result. In 2014, the Demon Head becomes aware of his youngest daughter’s existence.

The Ravager by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Slade Wilson’s plan for revenge against Oliver took time, money and no shortage of lives to pull together. His plan didn’t anticipate Felicity Smoak. How will his plan change now that his lost-lost daughter is working with the very man he’s trying to destroy?

Felicity of Themiscyra by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Years ago, Donna Smoak left the island of Themiscyra and her sister Queen Hippolyta behind to live in man’s world. She never told Felicity the truth about where she came from. As a result of the Undertaking, Felicity discovers some of her Amazonian abilities and makes an interesting new friend: Diana Prince.

The Daughter That Was Left by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Before the Gambit, Oliver Queen met QC intern Felicity Smoak. When he boarded the Gambit, he left something behind. Now, five long years later someone is waiting for him.

I Scream But No Sound Comes out by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Oliver returns from Lian Yu after five years, he comes back different. What happened there damaged more than just his body. How will his friends and family deal with this new Oliver?

How Not to Peel an Orange by imfallingforyoureyes102 | Arrow | Completed

Summary: “Oliver Queen, you give me back my orange!”

Felicity jams her finger into his chest with a small grumble.

“Yow! Hey, Edward Scissorhands,” Oliver growls, grabbing onto Felicity’s hand, his own hand absolutely engulfing hers. “Watch the claws.”

Oh, I’ll show you claws Oliver,” Felicity retorts spitefully, yanking her hand out of his grasp and swatting his arm repeatedly. “Give me back my fracking orange!”

(Or, after finishing a conversation with Laurel right outside the elevator bank, Oliver finds Felicity eyeing a small orange wearily. Laurel watches the amused banter that springboards back and forth between the two, and it isn't long before she sees exactly who Felicity Smoak is in Oliver Queen's life).

you got all my love to spend by @inlovewithimpossibillity | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Lingering on an executive floor to talk to an executive assistant seems a little unprofessional to Oliver. And that opinion definitely has nothing to do with the way that Felicity is laughing along to whatever the delivery guy is saying. Nothing at all.[Set early-S2, Oliver's pig-headedness rears its head but Felicity is taking none of it, leaving Oliver searching for a way to make it up to His Girl Wednesday]

late night secret gatherings by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Post-8x04. Oliver catches Mia sneaking out of the apartment and follows her to find that she’s secretly meeting Connor in the bunker for stress relief in the form of training. What he witnesses between them is more than enough to cause his overprotective fatherly instincts to flare up.

Vows by Abbie | Arrow | WIP

Summary: After the Siege of Starling City by Slade Wilson, threats and pressures force Oliver and Felicity to take desperate measures to protect their secrets, their team—and their very lives.

In Another Life by @inlovewithimpossibillity | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: This world has his head spinning and he’s constantly alert for whatever it might throw at him next. He’s trying to stay vigilant in case another figure from his past appears or something else throws him for a loop. He never, in a million years, would have expected what comes out of Dinah’s mouth next, however.“That was Rene, he said that Zoe needs to get some homework done so could you collect Mia? You’re so out of it anyway that you might as well take the rest of the day off.”[8x06 spec AU within which Oliver's alternate reality brings him face to face with a figure he never expected to see again]

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@hope-for-olicity @emdee8907 @malafle @laxit21 @icannotbelieveiamhere

#saturday spectacular fic rec #weekly fic recs

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saintedfury · 5 years ago

Note

🍄, 🌻, 🌳, 🥀; 💫, ☄️, 💦

Soft OC Asks

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen? Furia is a sucker for fresh fruits with chile or Tajín. She also really enjoys handmade empanadas. And whenever she sees someone selling tamales, she’s got to grab a few bags to take back with her--the whole crew loves them, but she just hates trying to make them because of the massive effort and mess. She really doesn’t mind it, but they really are something she’ll only make maybe once a year.

Her favorite meal to make ... hmm. I think her favorite is probably something she does at least once a week, which is just scrambled eggs with cheese, salsa, and crumbled bacon all wrapped up in a freshly made tortilla. It’s just something that’s just ... I don’t know how to explain it properly. It’s a little rich, kind of decadent, comforting, and when paired with a strong cup of coffee reminds her of lazy mornings.

As for comfort food--anything Latin really. Those flavors she grew up on really always take her back. Street tacos definitely hit that mark with a vengeance.

She enjoys cooking a lot. She started experimenting more with baking when she was with Eli because of his affinity for sweets. It can be fun, but it doesn’t allow her the same kind of artistry and experimentation as cooking. Baking is a little more tetchy, whereas with cooking she can just play with flavors and ratios and mixtures that would destroy a baking recipe.

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them? Furia loves seeing people smile, really smiles ... the ones that light up and crinkle the corners of their eyes. She’s got a soft spot for street artists and musicians--someone sharing that deep part of themselves with other people. And all honesty, the renewal of a garden is one of those things that makes the world brighter for them--seeing bright flowers bloom and fruits develop and ripen. She wouldn’t admit it, but the laughter of little humans at play in the park gives her that kind of warm fuzzy too. I keep trying to explain the feeling these things give her, but I can’t word it correctly. They are little treasures and little bright spots, just like a perfect cup of coffee or a vibrant sky at sunrise or sunset, but I can’t explain how it effects her.

But to be fair, I don’t think she notices as many of those things as she used to. I’m not sure she looks around herself as often anymore, which may be part of the problem. Her gaze is too often turned inward, usually in judgment and retribution for some fault, failure, mistake, or misstep. She’s cut herself off from a lot of things, insulated herself. She’s not enjoying the world, life, or being in her own skin as much as she did.

🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed? Long hot baths and books. Long drives on winding roads that require just enough attention. She does enjoy gardening, in fact, she’s currently in the process of setting up a rather large garden in the center grass of the cul de sac the house she’s relocated to is on. Furia is not usually an early to bed kind of person. She doesn’t sleep like she should, ideally. Sometimes it’s because her mind is disquieted and other times it’s a struggle staying to sleep due to nightmares and twisted dreams--yet again, another way her mind torments her. That’s why she’ll read before bed. It’s an attempt to distract her mind and calm it down to allow her at least a little rest.

🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry? If I had answered this before 2020, I would be able to safely say that Furia didn’t tend to write things in a notebook. Though to help her deal with recent events, I’ve been making her kind of keep a diary of sorts about her tiny triumphs and the things that she torments herself with. It is kind of an exercise in helping her get the things out of her head that she uses to torture herself. I’m not sure I really want to pull out an example though. (Edit: I did look for her journal, but I just disheveled my entire desk area because I got new shelves to help keep it in better more ordered shape and right now, everything is everywhere and I can’t find the damn thing).

I do know that her notebook wouldn’t attract attention at first glance, and it’s probably filled with as much art as writing. Maybe more art. It is likely a small sketchbook, one that can stand up to more than just pen and pencil.

Questions for You!

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why? I think one of my favorite facts about Furia is that she knew how to boost and drive cars before she was in high school. Her comfort behind the wheel and the zen-like state she can enter when she’s driving is one of the facts about her that I really enjoy.

I also like how she recreated her image late in SR2, going from hood rat (as she calls it) to this kind of professional style. Though now, she’s kind of boomeranging back to her roots a little. The more she rummages through the shadows of Bossville, the more her inner hood rat is coming back to the surface.

☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them! By the stars, yes! I’ve done things to Furia as experiments to see how she would deal with them, and regretted about every damn one. But I never retcon them because like her, I kind of believe that a person, even a character, is made up of the things that have happened to them. And in many cases, the things I’ve done to her affect a lot of other people and it wouldn’t be fair to them or their muns to rewrite “mistakes.” Mistakes are part of life and we have to live with and learn from them. So, I choose to take them as a chance for character growth and change.

Originally, I didn’t plan on her losing all her parental figures then being forced into that roll. I didn’t plan on murdering Troy off, but writing their relationship in two different phases was a struggle that I as a writer could not handle so ... off with his head. And I learned a lot about her, but I’m not sure the cost to her was worth the information.

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why? Killing Troy, for sure. That loss was unlike any other she’s known. Every loss has affected her, and in its own ways gutted her. But murdering Troy and taking him from her the way that I did really messed her up. In the long run, it was just compounded by Talon’s death and then Cyrus’ and then Eli learning about his own clock. It just all compounded into the snowball of grief from hell.

I’m honestly not sure whether she’s managed to dig herself out of it yet, still. And the ripples from that decision, still aren’t calmed.

#Soft OC Asks #underangelswing

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13eyond13 · 6 years ago

Note

if someone wants to be a writer what are the advices you give him/her to be good in writing?

Ooh, a very good question! I’m certainly no writing expert myself, there’s SO MUCH I have to work on with my own writing, and I usually spend way more time procrastinating on it than actually practicing it these days, but it’s something I think about constantly and strive to improve upon myself, so I’ll give it a shot.

ADVICE I ALWAYS TRY TO GIVE TO MYSELF WHEN THINKIN’ ABOUT STORYTELLING:

1. WRITE THE STORY YOU WANT TO READ, BUT SOMETHING THAT OTHER PEOPLE WILL HOPEFULLY BE ABLE TO ENJOY, AS WELL. Think of a question you have about life or a weird scenario or a relationship that you really want to answer or investigate, and then try to answer that question or explore that intriguing thing as honestly as you can. Doesn’t matter how big or small or serious or silly it is, if it’s an interesting question mark to you then it probably will be interesting to someone else, too. People generally read stories because we want to learn about ourselves and the world around us in some entertaining way. When we see things in stories that remind us of ourselves or other people we know, or that are tackling topics and concepts we’ve often wondered about ourselves, that’s when we really get emotionally invested. And if you can’t wait to find out what happens next in your own story yourself, that will really compel you to keep putting your butt in the seat to write it!

2. WRITE HOWEVER FEELS MOST NATURAL TO YOU, AND DON’T CONSTANTLY COMPARE YOUR OWN METHODS TO EVERYONE ELSE. Some people like to meticulously plot out their whole story before they begin, and some people like to just wing it and see what sort of weird surprises come out. Both approaches are valid, and so is a mix of the two! Play around with it and see what helps you get words down on paper the easiest. It won’t always be effortless, but it shouldn’t feel like a punishment or a horrible chore that you dread every time you sit down to create, either.

3. MAKE TIME FOR CONSUMING LOTS OF GOOD STORIES. Watch cool movies and TV and read books and comics and carefully observe all the people you know in your everyday life. Absolutely everything is a useful learning opportunity if you want it to be. Pay close attention to the world around you, because it’s all inspiration, even the mundane stuff. It’s those little realistic moments that really give stories life and weight and make people pay attention to what you’re saying as having a spark of truth to it. Get in the habit of describing the things you’re observing to yourself, too, because that’s what writing is. The more you read / watch / experience the more you will internalize the art of storytelling and start figuring out what is good and what isn’t, what feels cliche and lazy and untrue and what feels real and moving and fresh. If you think a story really sucks, don’t just zone out, figure out exactly why you think it sucks, too!

4. MAKE TIME FOR CREATING YOUR OWN STORIES WITHOUT OUTSIDE INFLUENCES OR DISTRACTIONS, TOO. Develop a routine and make it a habit and create your own cozy rituals around the act of writing. Whatever puts you in the best mood for it and keeps your head-space open for clearly visualizing your imaginary world.

Personally, I get very inspired by reading other people’s stories, but they also distract and block me from writing when I’m trying to create something of my own. Everyone is different, but I know I need to keep these two things (story-consuming and story-creating) pretty separate, or else I start doubting everything I try to write and picking it apart way too much. Figure out what kind of writer you are and structure your time and your work-space accordingly.

5. GET TO KNOW YOUR CHARACTERS REALLY WELL. The characters that are the easiest to write and the most fun to read are the ones that the author knows well and understands inside-out. Every single character should want to gain something and/or be afraid of losing something, or else they will be flat and boring. If someone only exists purely to be a love object or an opponent to another character and they don’t display any sort of inner life or personality outside of that role, it will show, and they will not be very relatable or compelling.

If a character is feeling really flat or you’re having a hard time getting inside their head, two great first questions to ask yourself are: “What would this character be doing right now if they weren’t involved in this specific plot?” And: “What would they be doing if they could do absolutely anything that they wanted to do in the world?”

Sometimes you won’t understand a character or how they need to develop or the main conflict / goal of your characters or story at all until you write more scenes with them or even get to the very end of your story, but that’s what second drafts and rewrites are for! You can always go back and clarify all that stuff later, adding more depth and streamlining stuff and cutting things out as you see fit.

6. DON’T GET TOO SAD ABOUT YOUR CRAPPY ROUGH DRAFTS. They’re going to suck at first most of the time. Just keep chugging and tweaking things and keeping a positive mindset, it will definitely not be perfect in the first try! I’ve often saved many versions of things I’ve written and then been shocked when I go back to the early drafts at how much worse they used to be. That’s why we have rewriting and editing and getting feedback from beta readers.

7. SAVE EVERYTHING YOU WRITE. Even if you decide to cut it out of your story because it’s not working right, it can almost always be used again for something else in the future. Maybe you wrote a great description that doesn’t suit the tone of the story, or a funny conversation that doesn’t add anything useful to that particular scene. Put those unused bits into a scrap folder and dig them out to use again somewhere else, either in the same story or a different story altogether.

8. WRITE DOWN YOUR IDEAS FOR YOUR STORY AS SOON AS YOU GET THEM. Keep a little memo pad app on your phone or carry a notebook around. It’s easy to forget those useful little nuggets again later if you don’t.

9. DON’T WRITE ANYTHING YOU WOULDN’T FEEL COMFORTABLE READING OUT LOUD. If it would be way too embarrassing to read to even your most ideal and nonjudgmental reader, then it’s probably a bit over-the-top and should be reworked until it feels more natural and more honestly “you.” I forget where I originally heard this little piece of advice, but I love it and think it’s a good one to keep in mind (mostly because I used to do that a lot, and still do sometimes, lol)

10. FIND SOMEONE YOU TRUST TO GIVE YOU HELPFUL CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK ON YOUR WORK. Beta readers are so important! Ideally it should be someone with a good sense of spelling/grammar and an eye for detail who also understands and enjoys your writing and the things you care about, and is also good at articulating exactly why something is/ is not working well yet. This can be scary and embarrassing sometimes, but if it’s the right person doing it they will both encourage you and help you grow by giving you good honest suggestions for things that can be improved or changed. We often don’t even realize all the things that aren’t coming off well in our own writing after staring at it so long, but that fresh pair of eyes is often very good at picking it out for us, and they’re just trying to help us write the best story we can.

11. FINALLY, there are so many great resources for learning about storytelling online or at your library!

Here are a few YouTube channels on the subject that I really like:

-Lessons from the Screenplay (my favourite): [X]

-Every Frame a Painting (mostly about visual storytelling, but still a ton of great lessons): [X]

-Alexa Donne (a published fiction author with decent practical advice): [X]

-Ellen Brock (an editor with good practical advice): [X]

A few books on the subject I’ve read and enjoyed:

-Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose

-On Writing by Stephen King

-Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (thank you to @translightyagami for the rec!)

And here is my collection of writing advice that seemed pretty legit from Tumblr:

writing advice tag [X]

Best of luck with telling your own stories, and thank you for asking me to blabber like a nerd about it!!

#ask #anon #writing #p #long post

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toshinoumu · 7 years ago

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Hello! A fellow fan fiction writer here.... Do you have tips for beginning writers? Your story is like OMG THE FEELS, and well comparing your story to the story Idea I have it just seems.. Weak. Plz help me.. I already have the first chapter up on Wattpad. I do not know how to make ask not seem like a self promotion thing Frick. If you do want to read heres the name A Scar and Scales. I am really sorry if this seems like a self premot.

Swift: Don’t worry about self promoting your work. If you make something and are proud of it, definitely promote it. As for beginning writers - hmmm Mainly just keep reading and writing.

Find stories, tropes, plots, questions that interest you. For me personally, I love the idea of “what does it mean to be human, a person, and how far can I push that idea? How much can change before they aren’t? How do you balance on that edge?” which is why many of my story ideas revolve around that central point.

Write what you know (the benefits of getting older is you know more that you can put into stories, good or bad). When you don’t know, research. And when it is new, worldbuild.

Organize your thoughts and write it down. You won’t remember that idea later, don’t lie to yourself and say you’ll remember. Know your ideal ending so you know what you are working towards (if it adjusts a little that’s okay). One of my weaknesses in my older writing is I had an idea for something in the middle of the story and once I got to it, I was personally satisfied and just dropped the story. Having an ending that excites you and big moments that lead to it will help motivate you to the end.

Find a writing method that works best for you - be it writing in notebooks, on a computer program, on your phone, on google docs, etc. I personally like google docs because I can get to the story document from any computer and on my phone, so it’s kind of always with me.

Also, a main thing - Don’t compare your work to others’. Learn from others yes. Don’t compare. I’ve been doing creative writing for over 15 years and this is the first time I’ve written this much for a series. And a huge part of being able to do that is because Aoi is my writing partner. If you can find someone just as excited about your story either as a coauthor, beta-reader, or editor - someone that you can bounce ideas off of and they keep you from being lazy (and I have times when I want to be lazyyy) - that can really help the whole process.

Aoi: Hmm… Tips. I definitely agree with reading and consuming a bunch of media. I used to read a ton, and I’m sure I absorbed a lot of different writing styles. I still experiment and learn as I go, but I know I have to write and keep writing ha. If I just let the words sit in my head, I won’t get any better. That’s a great thing about having a writing buddy to bounce ideas off of. I start with a rough picture - a sketch if you will - then I expand and keep expanding - read and reread. Don’t be afraid to start small. Writing takes a lot of work, and I really do believe it’s worth it!!

Swift: And don’t be afraid to scrap scenes or whole things that don’t work. You don’t have to delete it from your stuff, you can move it down as like a practice sketch. Just because you wrote it, doesn’t mean it has to be in the story. Your story is a living, changing thing. If something doesn’t work, keeping it in the final product doesn’t help you. So it’s okay to be sentimental about the time and effort you put into a scene and put it someplace you can see it, but don’t be afraid chuck it out of the final product and rewrite something that works better. Yes it is more work, but it is worth it. (I forgot how many scenes and dialogue things and rough ideas Aoi and I have scrapped while writing this series. But I know we do that a lot LOL)

Aoi: Yup! And our story may be pretty long but we still write scene by scene, image by image. It’s a process that takes time. And if it helps, skip to the part you really feel passionate about, and then fill in the rest.

Swift: Yeah, and that’s where having the chapter outlines help. You can cut the chapters into sections and bounce around them as necessary. (It works best for different POV bits, maybe not as well for same POV)

Aoi: A bit of a side tip, it’s good to freshen up your understanding of grammar and punctuation. Not everything has to be by-the-book, especially if you’re writing a heavy dialogue piece, but it really does help in the long run. OH and if you can, read out loud. If something doesn’t sound right, it’s okay to change it. Writing has a flow.

Swift: Kind of a rhythm yeah. Up and down, up and down. Fast and slow, fast and slow. Etc. And that rhythm and tempo can help dictate the speed of the scene. Slow for calm. Fast and short sentences for action. (Also changing size and font can help you spot spelling or general mistakes.)

Aoi: All in all, it’s your writing and you get to decide what you like! It’s exciting! So have fun with it! :)

Swift: Absolutely! Have fun and go easy on yourself. You never stop learning :3 (Thanks for reading our series. We hope you enjoy the coming chapters!)

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hencethebravery · 7 years ago

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TITLE: Hated Day, 1/1 (Ao3)

SUMMARY: Sometimes, there’s nothing left to do but give up and call it what it is: a tragedy. He was left living one half of this tragic, mutually agreed upon life while the other half, presumably, felt nothing at all. How dare you, he thought, bitterly, how dare you feel nothing at all. [A Captain Charming “Modern Tragedy” AU]

AUTHOR’S NOTES: @eurydicewouldfollow is absolutely to blame for this. Also, his Kindle is $15, so if it breaks, I’ll pay for it. WARNING for major character death and kind of heavy-handed allusions to the current US political calamity. I’m serious folks, this is not a happy story. It’s dotted with hope, but ultimately I’m calling this a tragedy and leaving it at that. A note on the setting: I’ve imagined this to be something like the precursor to Gilead in Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale, so a kind of pre-dystopia. The title is taken from a quote by Virginia Woolf in The Waves, “So each night I tear off the old day from the calendar, and screw it tight into a ball. I do this vindictively. […] I do not pray. I revenge myself upon the day. I wreak my spite upon its image. You are dead now, I say, […] hated day.” The bulk of this was written while listening to Max Richter’s album, Sleep, which is available in its entirety on YouTube.

If I could go back and rewrite our stories I think I would rip out all the pages where you become the h e r o. I know that you might hate me for robbing you of what could have been: the glories the adventures the challenges the legends— But at least you might still be here. At least we might still be happy. -- j.p., “but I guess I was never much of a writer”

It happens the way that so many had warned it would—like a frog that’s been left in a pot of water on the stove. Initially, it might feel like nothing more than a light simmer, so you’d probably fail to notice much of a difference. Hell, you might even find the sudden warmth pleasant at first. The temperature rises so slowly you don’t even realize what’s happening, not until the flesh has already begun to blister, until you’re in too much pain to do anything other than close your eyes in exhausted, agonizing defeat.

From the very beginning, David Nolan had been suspicious of a political party predicated on the belief that sewing division was the path to control. That free will was an illusory privilege people had been brainwashed to want. “Not so,” the party chanted from their podiums, “there is far too much to fear.” One too many pipe bombs in coffee shops; too many dead, middle class high school kids with the “wrong kind” of drug in their system. The world was going to hell, they often reminded their fearful, desperate audience. The world is going to hell, and only we can fix it.

He signed petitions and shared articles on Facebook; canvassed for politicians and marched at rallies. Despite the fact that he was only a pre-veterinary student with little means, he knew that he was living in a moment that demanded his resistance, so he resisted. He couldn’t bear the sight of his friends looking so downtrodden, so obviously frightened by what they saw on the news everyday. And he knew that while he was probably the least likely to suffer beneath the yolk of this new regime, that didn’t mean he would allow others to do so. “Fight for what’s right,” and all that. And even then, it only ever seemed like a temporary thing. They couldn’t possibly have to do this forever, right? This was how the system worked—sometimes you got dealt a dirty hand, but it could always be fixed.

“You would think so,” says the frog, boiling in his pot, “but you’d be wrong.”

Killian Jones, on the other hand, never paid much attention to politics. He had spent too much of his childhood just trying to survive , let alone allow himself to be worried by things he could do nothing to change. He understood the system well, but it was an understanding built upon an assurance of personal reward. If others couldn’t figure out how to work the system to their advantage, well, that was their own fault.

Every once in a while there’d be that niggling feeling at the heart of him, like maybe he could be better, do better. But he would often shake his head, tossing the thought aside. Or he would simply take another pull from his flask, allowing the burn of it to bring his nagging conscious to heel. Killian was one of those people who had known that the frog was bound to die before it had even gotten itself into the pot in the first place. Not the smartest of creatures, frogs. Hopping along, minding their own business, not realizing that they’ve only ever been prey.

Eventually, David would come to learn the root of this cynicism, and it would break his too-big-for-his-body heart into a dozen or so large, unruly pieces. Such a small boy Killian had been, when his father left him in the dark. Left for the larger monsters with only his brother for company, still too just a boy—old enough to understand a sense of personal responsibility, but still too young to care for anyone other than himself. To be fair, he had “given it a fair shake,” in Killian’s words, but in the end it had been too hard, and he too would eventually vanish, fading into the world as if he’d never been.

Curiously, Killian still had a single photograph of Liam pressed in between the pages of his notebooks (of which there were many). Every time he would begin a new one the photo would once again make the journey from the old book to the new, more wrinkled and faded than it had been before.

“I could never bring myself to get rid of it,” he confessed one evening, his eyes glazed over and words mildly slurred. “I tossed it onto the street once, but I couldn’t leave him.”

Killian had never looked so human in the ensuing silence, and David could picture it in his own head so vividly. A sad, lonely boy staring down at his brother’s face, so angry yet still compelled to keep him close, even though it was only a photograph. “And you think that’s somehow a bad thing?” Dave had finally asked, “to want to remember him?”

Looking back, he knows it was a stupid question. It should have been obvious, but he hadn’t quite arrived yet—at his understanding of who Killian was, of why he was. Of what he might become.

They meet at a fundraiser that David had helped organize at a local college bar. The night begins on a fairly positive note. In tough times such as these, surrounding oneself with likeminded people, it feels like a saving grace. It feels like confirmation that you are not the “crazy one,” that you are not alone, and maybe, just maybe, if you fight hard enough—you can win.

Killian had spilled a beer all over their sign-in sheet, and David would forever wonder whether or not it had been on purpose. Killian would insist it was an accident, but David would never fully believe him. Especially given what he now knows, that Killian Jones was far too much of an insecure wreck to ever just walk up and introduce himself to someone he might fancy. Instead it was a “clumsy fall,” and a boisterous laugh, and a poking fun at their “useless efforts.”

“Don’t you see we’re all fucked, mate?” he asked gleefully, standing aside and watching David rush to mop up the spilled liquid. “I know you’re trying to save the world and everything, but surely there are better things to do with one’s time.”

“You mean like get trashed and harass well meaning people in a bar?”

In David’s admittedly fuzzy memory, it seemed as if Killian’s eyes had grown a shade or two darker at that comment, so brief it would have been easy enough to miss. But David, well meaning, defensive boy that he was, had shoved it aside, deciding instead to trade barbs with this sloppy, grinning, maniac with far too much hair and dangerously high levels of charisma. At first glance, Killian seemed like he could’ve been one of them—one of the party supporters with their deeply cynical pretension; their outdated and dehumanizing ideologies currently infecting the human race on a global scale. That was, of course, until an actual group of supporters had stumbled in, drunk and loud and looking for a fight.

David had even momentarily forgotten all about him in his haste to crowd his friends out of the bar. At least until he felt a hard shove at his back, and suddenly found himself lying facedown on the sticky wooden floor. Stunned, he turned to face his attacker, only to watch, mouth agape, at the sight of that small, scrappy boy with far too much hair, deck his bald, tattooed assailant directly in the face. In hindsight, he wonders if he could’ve saved himself a lot of heartbreak by flagging the recklessness right there and then. It was so fucking obvious, wasn’t it?

Sometimes, when he imagines this moment in his head, over and over again, a torturous loop, he won’t take Killian’s hand when it’s offered. He’ll pick himself up instead, wipe the blood off his lip, give a grunt of “Thanks,” maybe a manly nod, and walk the hell out of there. It’s what he should’ve done. But the reality was, he did take his hand, and he did hold it for a little too long, and he did offer to buy him another drink.

“Since you spilled yours,” he said laughing, trying to ignore the adrenaline rushing through his veins—the jagged edges of fear winking at the corners of his vision.

David’s apartment is too empty, and his memory is too sharp.

Killian winds up living there completely by accident, and really, if anything is to blame, it is David’s heart (that he has made plans to remove as soon as possible). After that night at the bar, he starts seeing him everywhere—on campus, at the coffee shop, in the library. It’s likely that David had seen Killian everyday before that night, only he had never known it. It is hard to temper the fury that he feels at the possibility. That perhaps there were days, weeks, or even months of time in the precursor to this… whatever the hell this is. This feeling that exists between life and death that no one had thought to give a proper name to. Grief, is what they might say, but it is certainly not that. It is, undoubtedly, too small a word for what this is.

“Oh, I know who you’re talking about,” Ruby interrupted in the midst of his recollection of the night before, “he’s slept on Belle’s couch a few times.”

It’s how he discovers that Killian isn’t really living anywhere, and how he finds himself staring at the empty room in his apartment full of boxes he still hasn’t unpacked. Ultimately, he considers the fact that he isn’t making an awful lot of money anyway, and having a roommate might be helpful. It’s a practical decision, really.

“I’m not interested in your pity,” Killian hisses back at him, his eyes suddenly cold and cruel, when only moments ago they had been warm and inviting. It would have been easy to strike back in the moment, to say something like, “To hell with it,” and leave him behind, but there had been his heart again—beating painfully in his chest, making it hard to do little else but consider the vicious, lonely thing in front of him, and want to find out why it is so tender.

“You can think whatever you want, Killian,” he replies calmly, his hands curled tightly in his pockets, “but I just thought I’d ask. Honestly, I could use some help with the expenses.”

He leaves him then, quiet and seething, his face still red from his earlier outburst. In hindsight, everything seems far more dramatic than it probably was. In reality, Killian had probably stared at his back for a few moments and turned the other way, off to brood or drink or whatever he did on weekday afternoons. In his imagination, in the relentless replaying of his memories, Killian glares so hard at his back that a target appears, and it remains there; day after day, month after month, until finally, the bullet hits.

David wishes that Killian had been a messier roommate. Maybe then there would be something left, instead of it feeling like he had never been there at all. Is that all you were? A phantom from the very start? To be fair, he had left some things behind; clothes folded neatly in drawers, a pair of shoes tucked under his bed. But all those things feel a little bit too much like performative gestures, as if they’ve been curated to create an impression of Killian Jones: The Living Man. He becomes somewhat enamored with the sight of his sweater thrown over the back of a chair. It was a rare sight—Killian had almost never left a piece of clothing draped haphazardly anywhere, let alone in a shared living space where anyone could be inconvenienced by it.

It’s quite possible that he’ll never move it.

A surprisingly clean roommate with an unsurprisingly heavy weight resting on his shoulders. Making him sluggish and irritable; his brow furrowed, his eyes dark, and his flask full. David Nolan is not a man without flaws, he has made mistakes (regardless of what Killian might think), and while he can sympathize, he’s not certain he has the emotional fortitude to carry it in the same way that Killian does. It’s not something that David can force him to change. The only person that can alleviate that sense of guilt and regret is Killian himself, but he does despise it. The knowledge of this vibrant, brilliant person hidden away beneath all that blackened rot.

“Your guilt accomplishes nothing,” he tries to remind him, knowing full well he may as well be talking to a brick wall, “it’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Oh, how he longs for that guilt now—craves it. Inhales and exhales, searching desperately for a whiff of it. Perhaps he’s left it behind for David to find, a fine accompaniment to the note that he’s left pinned to the front of David’s bedroom door. Nailed to the wood like a butterfly mounted on a cushion.

In the interim between David’s meddling and Killian’s cursed fucking note, the world changes a little bit more. It gets a little bit darker, a little less easy to ignore. The frog’s been long dead and at this point you’d barely even know that it had been a frog at all. The time for fundraisers and peaceful marches has passed, and that bullet that had been headed for David’s back? It leaves the barrel of the gun.

David is awoken late one night by the sound of police sirens and the apartment door slamming shut. He leaps out of bed, sliding into the hallway on sock-covered feet to find Killian, dressed head-to-toe in black, a bloody bandage wrapped around his hand.

“Killian?” he mutters, still half-asleep. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” moving past him towards the bathroom, pulling out the cork of his flask with his teeth, “back to bed with you.”

He sees it on the news the next day, something about a government building being vandalized, a molotov cocktail thrown through the window. Killian is all smiles, however, he even has the gall to whistle as he walks by him and into the kitchen, presumably intent on making a cup of tea. As if someone just “makes a cup of tea,” after something like that.

“This gonna become a habit?” David shouts at him from the couch, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, love,” he answers over the shrieking sound of the kettle. Dave has to admit, he does smile.

Those few months before things had started to get a little too scary for David’s liking, they were admittedly, quite lively. They had been some of the country’s darker days, but Killian had managed to make them brighter. To infuse humor and strength when everyone else had felt weak and hopeless. His antics seemed to range from fairly harmless, like drawing male genitalia all over the president’s face on public murals; to dangerous but effective, such as breaking into party headquarters and stealing classified documents. He had even managed to leak most of them to the few honorable media outlets left, and he had invited a few of their friends over to watch the truth unfold before their very eyes.

Sometimes he would arrive home looking particularly vibrant, his cheeks pink and his smile wide. He would force David to share a drink with him, no matter how late, and he would tell him of all his adventures. And then there were other nights—maybe it hadn’t gone so well, maybe he was just tired from having to keep doing this; perhaps feeling overwhelmed with the weight of what had to be done to fix the mess these human beings had made. On those nights, David might not hear him come in at all. Shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him, treading lightly towards his bedroom. And in the morning, David wouldn’t ask about his night. He would just smile, make him some tea, and ask about what he had planned next.

Like so much else these days, hindsight would like to remind him that he was falling in love. But unfortunately for him, it often arrives far too late.

How do you describe the morning after in a world where he no longer exists? Answer: you don’t. It is a bleak, indescribable space where time ceases to function, where all that makes the world alive is sucked into a vacuum somewhere, and you—this thing that was left behind to ponder this great lack, you sit in silence and wonder at the absolute nothingness that sits before you.

The television is no longer on but he can still see it; the sight of Killian’s hand, his wrist his—he feels himself choking on his own throat at the thought of it, the sight of all that blood, out in the open where anyone could see it. Forces himself to stand, to take a step, to walk towards his bedroom door and maybe sleep, he cannot remember the last time he slept… and that’s when he sees it. The butterfly on his door, a wrinkled piece of paper torn from one of Killian’s notebooks, and on it a carefully written message:

Dave,

I know I made a lot of mistakes.

But loving you wasn’t one of them.

-- K.

His first instinct is to crumple it up in his fist, toss it into the trash. But he leaves it there, hanging on his door. Forces himself to read it every time he goes to bed, anytime he needs to change his clothes. He knows it’s probably not healthy, but it’s not as if he’s had any company over lately to berate him for it, so he leaves it where it is. To mock him, to comfort him, he is not sure which.

The night before he had lost him, presumably the night he had written the note hanging on David’s door, they had gotten into a fight. David remembers it feeling unusual, as they hadn’t gotten into a fight in quite a while, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was they were actually fighting about. Was it Killian’s recklessness? His desire to be a hero, to atone for the mistakes he had made in his past? Or was it something else? Perhaps this unspoken, unrealized thing that had been sitting between the two of them for weeks—months, if he was being honest with himself.

“I thought that this was what you wanted,” Killian had shouted tiredly, his voice gruff with overuse, “for me to be the bloody hero.”

“I never asked you to do that,” standing from the kitchen chair, pacing back and forth across the living room floor. “All I wanted was for you to forgive yourself. Don’t put this on me.”

“Oh, can’t I?” The bitter edge to his voice catching David by surprise, “I can’t fathom how you would expect otherwise, given how infallible you seem to be.”

It’s obvious that he regrets the words almost as soon as they fall from his lips, but thick headed man that he is, a retraction doesn’t seem likely. It is a moment not unlike that afternoon on campus, when David had offered him a place to say. A moment in which David had two possible decisions, one of which would push him away, the other of which would pull him in. He paused, thoughtfully, tried to ignore the sight of Killian’s tongue sneaking out to wet his lips.

“I’m just worried,” he finally says, quietly, dropping heavily to the couch, “all those other times, you got lucky. Someday soon, you might not be.”

Thankfully, Killian is quiet, and the tension he had been carrying in his shoulders seems to deflate as he takes a seat at his side. He is warm, smelling of cigarettes and burnt rubber. His hand hovers over David’s knee, and in a moment that seems to stretch on forever, finally ends with the weight of it on his bones, the heat of it burning through his jeans.

“It’s not your fault,” Killian whispers, his thumb moving methodically back and forth. In David’s recollection of this moment, Killian’s words sound like an omen—they echo within the walls of their apartment, they fall out the window and into the street, traveling into a future where the two of them can no longer exist together. “I want you to know it’s not your fault,” he says again, “but you have— somehow, you have made me want to be a better man.”

It is such an idea, isn’t it? A hell of a thing, to hear that you have altered another man’s life so drastically by just being you. And a part of him wants to run away, to brush aside this moment like all the others, but something inside of him had urged him to stay, and he will be glad of it.

“You can be a better man and stay alive, Killian. I mean, look at me, I’m incredibly alive.”

“Aye,” he answers after a thoughtful pause, his eyes straying towards David’s lips. “That you are.”

In the movies, they might have shared a kiss in this moment. Perhaps the screen would fade to black, the music would swell. But it wasn’t to be, like so many other moments, lost to yet another great “Perhaps.” Instead he had only sighed, patted David on the knee, and looked resignedly back towards the floor. “I appreciate your concern, Dave, but I have to do this, you know that I do.”

“Yeah,” trying to figure out why his throat suddenly felt so tight, his face so hot. “I know you do.”

One morning, and he is unsure as to how long it has been since, he wakes up and finds himself entirely too conscious of the sun on his face. To his great surprise, he had forgotten what it felt like—the warmth of it, the nurturing, wrapped-in-a-blanket feel of it on your skin. He taps the note on the way out the door. Makes a cup of coffee in the kitchen; watches Killian’s sweater as if it will suddenly start folding itself. He watches the news, like so many other mornings before, and he finds something else—anger, hope, a feeling that he can recall from inside the walls of a hot, crowded bar.

On the news, the world seems to be full of people. The last few days, he had been starting to wonder if he were the last. But no, it is still a crowded, wonderful, horrible place, and on this particular morning, when he could feel the sun on his face, he decided that it was still worth fighting for.

#ouat ff #cc ff #cc fanfic #captain charming #cc: saved my life #cc: [bold] a ghost called depression #@hencethewriter #i swear #on my very life #that i will never write anything this sad #ever again #this was so incredibly painful to write #i cannot even describe to you #i apologize in advance #if u wanna send me some #cheerful prompts #so that i can cleanse myself of this #by all fucking means

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studyinthemoon · 7 years ago

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[Image description: On a light blue font, the title “Discussion on annotation” in a black handwriting, as a drawing of a pen on each side. The pens are in pink. End of description]

*・°.。 Introduction *・°.。

It’s been some years now that I’m using sticky notes during my reading and highlighters. Lately, I’ve been interesting even more in annotation my books and I started thinking about different ways to do that.

This is in no way a discussion on how to annotate but rather on trying to find new ideas to do that.

Because all this idea are “my own” it works for me, that means you may will have to change some things so it could work for you.

*・°.。 What do you need ? *・°.。

Anything, really. I started annotating by putting pieces of paper into my books so I could go back to the pages I like. If you don’t feel like writing/putting a lot of things in your books, or if you can’t; sticky notes in paper are a good beginning.

Or you don’t even need sticky notes, you can create your own, but we’re going to talk about that later. Now for the pens. It’s better if it doesn’t bleed through the pages, but if you don’t care about that just start annotating !

Pencils are great for a beginning. It won’t bleed and if you don’t like how it’s look like you can just erase it. Some days ago, I tried writing in my books with the muji pens 0.38. If you find an equivalent where the end is small it could work ! (sorry french speaking person here, I didn’t find a great translation for what I want to say, so the “end” if the part you’re using to write)

Now for the highlighters. I’m just going to give you the names of what my friends and I are using.

Stabilo Swing Cool Highlighter (It’s the kind of small one but I think the pastel are good too)

Pilot FriXion in pastel colors (One of my friends use that)

MUJI-Twin-Tip-Highlighter (I’m using these one because they were cheap in my country but I’m not sure they are perfect because it bleeds a little)

But remember that you don’t have to have expensive things to do that, I’m just giving ideas. You don’t even have to highlight if you don’t feel like to. Using your pencil to write a line under the quote that you like do the trick too.

*・°.。Another way *・°.。

Now, forget everything I just told you.

I mean, you can use all the things you want and that’s the thing: you are free to create your own annotation.

What if it’s a school’s text ? Or a friend’s book ? Or a library’s book ?

I’m not the best person to give you advice for the school annotation. Mine were kind of messy. But your goal is to read the paper, right ? So, do as you feel like. Sometimes, teachers are going to tell you what to highlight or what to write next to some verse/sentence. Sometimes it’s up to you.

If you can, copy or scan the paper. Then you will be able to try annotating the text. You want to have a color code ? Then do it. You prefer putting sticky notes ? Or having a separate piece of paper ? Doing it on a notebook ?

Using a separate piece of paper is great. You can write what you want, the quote you liked for example. You can also use a color code on that page.

One of my friends like to use her notebook to write what she thought of the plot and the characters. Sometimes it’s just basics information like “he is tall”. But it’s still something. What you need to understand is that annotating can be just a thought you had, a thought you keep somewhere.

Do as you feel like.

A color code will allow you to separate the information. I personnally don’t think of a color code, I just highlight but I like it. I can easily find the information but that’s because I have a visual memory. I can also remember where the quote is because I remember how I put the sticky note.

And that’s my friend, is the beginning of new way to annotate.

Using something else than paper

You don’t like the whole “use a lot of pencils and paper” ? Great because we are now thinking of something else.

If you need to hear things to learn, recording yourself could be an alternative. Some booktubers do what’s called “reading vlog”. That means they talk to the camera/there phone about what they just thought of the pages/chapters they read.

You can do that for fun and see if your opinion changed. But you could do that for school too. In France, we are supposed to be able to write some kind of essay and for that you need to analyze the text A LOT.

And we have another kind of exam where we have a text we studied during the year. We have ten (10) minutes to re-read the text, remember the analysis and then do a kind of “oral essay”.

So, let’s say you have the same thing in your country, or something close. Recording yourself even if it’s just for fangirling over a character or saying you are bored with the plot, it’s an annotation.

Your phone and social medias

Have you ever heard of live-tweet ? It’s when you are commenting what movie/series/book you are consuming. I’m doing that for some books I am reading and it’s fun.

To give you an example:

“ WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SO SAD?” (followed by a gif of jake from the serie brooklyn nine-nine)

That’s what I can write. It helps me when I have to write my reviews a long time after I finished the book. And if you liked your live-tweets, you can rewrite that in your book if you want to !

Then your phone. You can create a memo and write all your thought there, or say if you think you found a metaphor. You see ?

How to do it when you use audiobooks ?

If you can find an ebook or PDF version of the book you are listening, you can then annotate it. Or as I said before you can record yourself saying “I really liked that chapter, it’s well written and it conveys well that X element of the book falls in the Gothic genre”. I just invented this but it’s an idea.

Live-tweeting (and it doesn’t have to be on twitter, it can be on tumblr too !) could be another option.

I’m sorry if this discussion was messy. I hope it gave you some ideas and if you have another alternatives I will be happy to hear about them ! Or if you think something doesn’t work just tell me, I would be happy to know that too. And If you didn’t understand something, tell me and I will re-explain, it’s possible that as a French person my English isn’t logical and comprehensible.

Have a good day/night ♥

#annotating books #mine #studyblr #studyinthemoon #annotation #books #studyspo

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strawberriestyles · 8 years ago

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Shakespeare (Part I)

(Banner made by the incredibly talented @tiostyles)

Harry X Reader (AU)

In which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA for your new English class.

Author’s note: This is gonna be a multi-part fic!! I’m really excited for it and would love any and all feedback. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Xo

You aren’t a newbie, but your frazzled appearance might portray you that way.

Autumn air nips at your cheeks as you rush around the corner and continue along the edge of the sidewalk. Your feet carry you around other students who aren’t as pressed for time. They give you amused side-glances as you hustle into the entrance of the closest brick building.

This was supposed to be your semester, the one where you get to class early and rewrite your notes by hand and get straight As. But one-too-many snoozed alarms later and your first day of classes has become your worst nightmare.

You take the stairs two at a time, and are rushing through the doorway to the second floor when you slam full force into a particularly solid shoulder. You’re knocked off balance and a flurry of papers careen through the air to scatter the floor around you.

“Shit, fuck,” a deep voice mutters from above where you’ve landed in a heap. You rub tenderly at the bruise that is bound to form from your collision.

“Are yeh okay? Yeh hurt?”

The man leaning down in front of you addresses you with a thick accent. With an upward glance, you find tired green eyes framed by a large pair of glasses.

“I’m fine,” you answer quietly, pushing yourself back to your feet. “I’m late, sorry.”

You spin around to rush down the hall. A prick of guilt stabs your chest as you leave your victim to collect his belongings. You hear a sigh and shuffling papers from behind you as you open the door to your classroom. Heads turn to assess you in your flustered state. The clock on the wall informs you that you’re forty-seven seconds late—a feat, if you consider how late you woke up.

It’s a small class with about twenty students. Seats are arranged in a large circle that you’re forced to cross. The gaze from the professor—who must be Dr. Glasser—at the head of the room does nothing to soothe your nerves as you find an empty chair and slip into it as quietly as possible.

“As I was saying, on time is late in my book.”

Your head lifts from the backpack you’ve set at your feet to find a pair of narrowed eyes. Dr. Glasser has his arms crossed over his chest, brows raised as he quirks his lips at a joke you’re not yet in on. Getting on his bad side was everything you wanted to avoid today.

“Hey, ’m sorry.”

The door closes behind a man who’s entered the room unnoticed until now. His voice draws the professor’s gaze from you and your eyes follow suit.

“Woke up not feelin’ well and then some girl bowled m'over in the hall.”

You cringe, sinking back into your seat in hopes you’ll melt away. If your day could get any worse, you’d rather it happen now than later when it might take you off guard. But at least there’s another student who can share the guilt.

“It never changes,” Dr. Glasser replies with a curt nod and a knowing chuckle. “That’s all right. This is Harry. He’ll be your TA for the semester.”

You sink even lower in your seat, stomach churning in discomfort. How could you fuck up your first day so terribly?

Harry sets a mess of papers down on a desk beside the professor’s and turns to look at the class with a half-hearted smile. His white t-shirt is clean but wrinkled. You notice the red glint of his eyes and the way his fingers pause to rub at his temple as his hand passes through his tousled hair. He’s sporting a nasty hangover, by the looks of it.

Your thoughts cease completely as his eyes stop scanning the students to pause on your regretful face. He gives a soft shake of his head and a quiet chuckle before he sits down. You’re screwed.

“What does it mean to be an English major? What are we here for?” Dr. Glasser pipes up, pushing away from his desk to pace the center of the circle.

There’s a short pause before a couple of stray hands rise hesitantly into the air. You remain stationary, unwilling to dig yourself a deeper hole. Until you’re more sure of his personality and teaching style, you’ll be a quiet student in this class.

“To study literature?”

“More generally.”

The room goes silent and Harry smiles lopsidedly, fiddling with the rim of his glasses. Dr. Glasser gives him a prompting side-glance.

“T'study words,” Harry corrects, and his smile widens as he shifts forward in his seat, “aesthetically. How they interact, wha’ they make us feel. Lot o’ people make fun o’ English majors, but we have the best deal, ‘f yeh ask me. We get t'play 'round. Not everythin’s gotta be pragmatic and serious.”

“Right,” Dr. Glasser agrees with a nod and a grin that stretches across his middle-aged face. He’s handsome in his own right, in a pair of glasses much thicker than his assistant’s. They magnify his eyes to an abnormally large size. You notice the brown laces of his black shoes and the mismatched plaid of his socks that peak out whenever he takes a step.

“Everything we do is toward an aesthetic end. You don’t really get that when you’re collecting data or memorizing the anatomy of a rhinoceros, do you?”

“Rhinoceros?” Harry asks with a raised brow and a quizzical scratch of his stubbly jaw.

“It’s a bit more interesting than a dog, wouldn’t you say?”

“S'pose,” he agrees with a chuckle.

You admire the way he can still stay focused and present with the leftover alcohol taking its toll on his body. You’re sure you would be a useless blob if you were in the same condition.

“I’m not trying to say that English is the best major-”

“Yes, he is,” Harry interjects, grinning at the professor.

“Okay, yes, English is the best major,” Dr. Glasser confesses, stuffing meaty hands into the pockets of pants that are a size too large. You find yourself agreeing. Science classes are far less than enjoyable and math classes can be close to impossible. “And you may think that I’m a bit biased, but it’s a fact. Ask your science-majoring friends.”

You notice a girl a few seats around the circle from you who is scribbling intensely in a brand new notebook. You chew on your lip to hold in a chuckle. She must be a freshman.

“They’re probably too loaded up with work t'answer yeh, though,” Harry adds, sifting through the pile of papers on his desk and rearranging them. “Yeh wan’ me t'take attendance?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dr. Glasser concedes, hopping up on the edge of his desk and swinging his feet.

Harry smooths out a sheet of wrinkled paper with a faint shoe mark—one that would match the sole of your boot perfectly, if you were to put them side-by-side. His eyes flit over rows of printed pictures that match the faces in the room. He clears his throat before beginning to roll through the alphabetical list, and you consider not reacting when he calls your name. Maybe you can make one up, so your actual title isn’t tarnished by your faulty first impressions.

“Y/N,” Harry asks, and if you’re not mistaken, you can hear a lilt to his voice, like he’s testing the sound of your name on his tongue. His gaze lifts from the page before him to find you immediately, only a small pie-slice away from him in the circle of desks.

You lift your hand meekly in response. You don’t trust the anxiety you feel not to stain your voice. His eyes hover on yours for a moment longer, flickering with amusement, before dropping back to the attendance sheet.

“It might take me half of the semester to remember those,” Dr. Glasser admits when the list comes to an end. He returns to the floor with a heavy thud and presses his spectacles back up his nose by the bridge. “But we’ll get there.”

“Yeh didn’ remember m'name 'til the last week o’ classes,” Harry complains, rolling his eyes playfully.

“That is most certainly untrue,” Dr. Glasser denies with a feigned look of hurt. “You were my favorite student and your name was the only one I remembered. But let’s stop our bickering, now.”

The professor spins in a circle to survey the class before he speaks again.

“Harry is smarter than you,” he states matter-of-factly. “When it comes to English theory, at least. I can’t say he’s the smartest at deciding which nights are good ones to go out drinking, however.”

Harry coughs to cover his a laugh, but he can’t hide his entertained smirk while Dr. Glasser shoots him a playfully disappointed look. He pushes his glasses up his forehead to rub at his eyes with long fingers.

“Anyways, I am also smarter than you in this department, but Harry happens to be much nicer than me. I’m not trying to intimidate you, I’m just letting you know that if you have questions or need help with anything, it’s probably better to ask him first. Plus, his voice is a lot nicer to listen to than mine.”

Harry groans audibly, but the ever-present smile is still plastered across his lips. You can tell how much he loves this class, and Dr. Glasser, specifically, and you can feel yourself hoping that your below average first day doesn’t set the tone for your semester.

“He’s quite talented. And quite the poet, if I may add.”

“Yeh may not,” Harry huffs, flicking his glasses back down in front of his eyes.

“Well, he’s quite the poet,” Dr. Glasser repeats, ignoring Harry’s remark and smiling to spite him. “He’s the smartest kid I’ve ever met and none of you will compare, but we can pretend.”

“Oi! Can we stop talkin’ 'bout me, now?”

“I love when he uses British terms. It’s very endearing.”

“Dr. Glasser,” Harry complains again, rubbing his hands beneath the lenses of his glasses once more.

The professor shrugs with a grin to the class and checks his left wrist, which he finds to be watch-less. He then checks the clock on the wall.

“Does anyone have any questions?” he asks, continuing on before anyone has a chance to raise a hand. “Great! Your reading assignment is on the syllabus, which is online. You probably should have looked at that already. We’ll start talking theory next class. And a bit of advice: don’t drink as much as Harry did last night.”

Students erupt into snickers as Dr. Glasser slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and leaves the room, and you can’t help but laugh at his closing statement, too. Harry drops his head back in exasperation, huffing out a loud breath. The room is suddenly filled with a chorus of footsteps and ruffling papers and zipping bags.

You slide out of your seat, hiking your backpack up and over your shoulders. Your feet hesitate, mind trying to decide whether you should apologize or if it’s best to just leave. Harry is stacking his papers and trying his best to align the rumpled edges. He slips the pen he used for attendance between his teeth. Before you actually make a conscious decision, you’re standing in front of his desk, rocking on the balls of your feet nervously.

“Hi, Harry.”

He lifts his head briefly and then looks back down at his papers, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

“I’m-”

“Y/N, yeah. Not gonna forget tha’ one,” he interrupts, mumbling around his pen and chuckling under his breath.

You sigh, fiddling with the straps of your backpack. Harry lifts his bundle of papers and hugs them to his chest, plucking the pen from his mouth and tucking it behind an ear.

“I just wanted to say that I’m-”

“’M late, sorry.”

And with that, he gives you an amused smirk and skirts around you to leave the room.

Part II

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles shakespeare

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