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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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You Leave Me Wounded And Bleeding | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: the long awaited 1940s simon fic!! it’s been done for a while but i just had to tweak a lot so i’m able to write the second part :)

warnings: 1940s-Immediately after the End of WWII. 3RD PERSON - Heartbreak, mourning - let me know if I missed anything!

summary: It’s September 9th, 1945, the trains are running non-stop to bring soldiers home. Wounded, alive, and dead - families wait on the platforms, desperately awaiting the arrival of their family member. Those crowds would include you - Mrs. Simon Riley, awaiting the love of your life who has been deployed as long as the war had been waged.

REMINDER: This is a side-blog, not my main! If you have any questions, feel free to message this blog or reblog! Reblogs are always appreciated - as well as any comments, they keep me motivated to write stuff like this!

Dear Simon,

I am writing to you this in case something happens. Something I cannot think about, something that can very well happen and I don’t wish to dwell upon it. These words are the only way I can express it if I am no longer able to voice them.

There was thunderous applause in the square, surrounding the gray train station. Screaming, crying, cheering - loudness that she’s never heard before in her small town. She was one to steer clear of the loud noises, to sit away from the excitement in a small cafe or bookstore in the town square. Maybe walk around the plaza, take the time to enjoy the sun.

This September day was different - much different. The always fresh air tasted stale, the bright green trees began to grow gray. Her deep blue dress swished against her shins as she struggled through the crowds of cheering women, crying children, and proud and grieving parents. She glanced around the crowd, noticing how most of the people were draped in grays and blacks - mourning colors. She looked away from them, towards a glass encased list of names.

You’ve written me almost every week during this horrible time, about every thought and moment that caused you pain. It hurts me to know that I cannot ease your agony. It pains me that I cannot be by your side, even for a fleeting moment. You have such a kind soul, Simon Riley. I can only imagine how it will all of this affect you after the war.

A kind hand gently grabbed her wrist, the woman in deep blue jumped in her skin before turning to see a familiar face. An elderly woman she had grown to know in the past few years, a woman she often visited as the elderly woman was her neighbor. Her name was Mavis, her husband had died in the first World War and her only two daughters were nurses now. Mavis knew why she had arrived at the plaza today - she was a patient woman, a gentle voice that the woman in blue desperately needed.

“Will I see you when you arrive home tonight?” Mavis inquired, her black shawl draped over her front. She looked frail in the gray dress she wore, her feet buckled in worn gray kitten heels.

The taller woman in deep blue heels shrugged. “It depends, Mavis.” It depends if I will be coming home without him.

“He will come home to you, darling.” The old woman smiled gently, still holding onto her wrist. She gave it a squeeze, the woman in blue gave Mavis a soft smile.

“I’ve been hoping he does.”

Even long after your letters have stopped arriving, no British Army soldiers have appeared upon our doorstep yet - no telegrams have graced my fingers with your name upon them. That must mean something, right? That you are safe, breathing? For the past two and a half years, I’ve waited for your return; not to mention the three years before that. The danger is gone now, Simon, and you’re not here. They’ve been arriving by the train load for the past week, and none of the lists have your name.

Mavis had let go of Mrs. Riley’s hand and let her be, let her gaze at the large white pages with printed names in black ink. She was still too far to read any names, she still pushed though the crowd - getting closer. She watched as women in white walked away sobbing, or women in black excitedly running towards the train platform.

Fear trembled in Mrs. Riley’s blood, the purse that sat in her left hand felt too heavy, the air felt suffocating as the crowd pushed her towards the board. Today was the first day she felt like this, pain in her heart and fear in her lungs. Maybe today was the day she would see his name on the board, written with the same black ink as the rest of the soldiers coming home to Manchester. She was only behind five more people before she would be at the front of the crowd, reading quickly to find his name - maybe the names of his friends too. She’s met Soap and Gaz before, it has been a long time since she’s even seen Price. Maybe the mysterious Alejandro and Rudy will appear, even though their home is across the world - All living and breathing, she hoped.

Another step forwards, closer to the board as an older gentleman and lady both turned away from the board in tears - the young woman beside them with a teenage boy laughed with excitement. They moved away, she grew closer. She could almost read the names on the papers now.

I musn’t worry, I know you will come back to me. You have a habit of keeping promises, my love - as well as secrets.

“Move it along!” The conductor shouted as he came towards the board, shooing away more people as she quickly scanned the names now that she could read them. She started with the Gs, reading quickly.

Gardner, KIA. Garrett, Garrett, Garrett, KIA…

Garrick, Kyle. Sergeant. Gaz.

She felt hope filter into chest, at least one of them made it - she moved to the Ms.

MacDonald, KIA. MacDonald…

MacTavish, John. Sergeant.

Thank God, Soap. She remembered to breathe then, hurriedly going to the Ps as she noticed that the list was much shorter than yesterday. She didn’t dare dwell on it.

Powell, KIA. Powell. Price, Price, KIA…

Price, John. Captain.

Another step forwards, two more people had gone and now she only had the elderly couple ahead of her. They had worn white as a symbol of hope, as have many of the other families awaiting their turn to read the list. She read the Rs, her heart beating out of her chest like a train engine.

I’ve heard stories from wives, whispers among the streets about some soldiers coming home and no longer being themselves. They’re hollow, lifeless - I’ve seen a few myself. It is like the undead have invaded Manchester, they walk about with no emotion in their eye, no care for their family as they walk beside them. I’ve watched them from our bookstore, watching as their small children tug on their father’s hands and he vaguely responds with a lifeless smile, sending them away from himself. Their wives do not give away any note of worry, perfect smiles and small touches to their husbands as if to comfort them in a small way. It’s not hard to recognize the wife’s pain, it’s a pain I hope I will never know.

Radley. KIA. Raines. KIA. Redgrave. Ridley. Ridley. Rigley. KIA. Rivers. KIA. Robbins. KIA.

I’m scared, Simon.

A rougher hand grabbed her arm then, she didn’t look away. She kept rereading the list. Today is the last day for arrivals, she knew that. She has known that for the past week. Where was his name? Where was Lieutenant Simon Riley?

“Mrs. Riley,” A soft voice came from the person pulling her away, she kept staring at the board as it grew smaller. She almost stumbled, tripping over herself before she turned to look at the man who knew her.

Gaz.

“Are you alright?” She asked the man in pea green, he looked bewildered. They were now just outside of the crowd, he rolled his shoulders. “You aren’t harmed?”

“Mrs. Riley, there is no need for you to worry about me.” Gaz placed a hand on the strap of his dufflebag that was across his chest, he had a concerned look on his face. “Have you seen Soap? He had gotten off of the train with me, I’ve been looking for Price-“

Her hand gently pushed Gaz backwards, away from the crowd. The soldier had let her, her hand left his arm as she led him towards a bench. She sat down, smoothing out her dress and crossing her ankles. Her dark shoes were sort of scuffed, she stared at it for a moment before looking back up at her husband’s friend. He looked upon the train station, seeing the crowd began to dissipate slowly.

“Mr. Garrick,” She whispered, hoping he would hear her just like Simon would. But he just kept watching, waiting. “Gaz.”

Gaz turned his head to look at her, his face solemn. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Please, just call me by my name.” She answered, she then patted the bench. “Sit with me.” The wind picked up then, rippling through her straightened and victory rolled hair - the common style that she hated. Her normal hair was beautiful - is what Simon would always say, gently pet it against her head. If she wished hard enough, she could feel his hand touch her cheek. She closed her eyes then, letting the wind breeze her face without the malice of a dull world.

“I haven’t-“

“Is there someone waiting for you, Mr. Garrick?”

Terrified, really. What if you do not step off that train tomorrow? What will I do if I must return home in silence, no longer in your grasp? No longer sleep without the knowledge that you’ll be coming home?

Her eyes fluttered open as the gentleman sat on the bench, a couple of feet away. He didn’t even look at her, his eyes staring at the station. “No, ma’am.”

“I see.” She answered. “You are welcome in my home, just until you’re able to get on your feet.” She looked towards the train station again, her hands sat like stone in her lap, her purse against her shoes. “The invitation is extended to Mr. MacTavish, Mr. Parra and Mr. Price as well, should you see them - even Mr. Vargas if he makes his presence known.”

“Are you leaving?” Gaz asked and the woman didn’t offer an answer, only silence as she watched families in black walk with either their loved one in their arms or a folded flag. She didn’t know what he was asking - was she leaving the plaza or was she leaving Manchester?

“I’m not sure.” She commented to the air, recounting the past week and knowing that Gaz could hear her. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had company in my home.” She patted her dress again when she changed the subject, a nervous habit. “Many of my own friends in Poland and the Netherlands have perished.” She brushed off invisible dust from her lap, smiling sadly. “I’m afraid I no longer have any friends.”

“Mrs. Riley, you’re my friend.” Gaz commented, looking at her as she still stared at the train station. “Ghost has done all of us well, told us many times that you are a person with a kind heart. I’m very glad you decided not to just ignore me earlier.” He sort of chuckled, then continued. “Look, Mrs. Riley, I haven’t seen Ghost since March. I was moved to a different unit, he was upset with me when I left. Not sure if he’d want to see me-“

“Mrs. Riley!” Came a loud Scottish boom, Gaz’s head swiveled towards the train station as she stood, she would have smiled but the information Gaz gave her sent an arrow into her heart. The Scot slid his bag across the pavement to Gaz before wrapping the woman in a tight embrace, rocking her side to side as he chirped, “Oh, lass, how I have missed you so!” He kissed her cheek, his smile as wide as the moon. “You won’t believe what they’ve fed me!”

Well, I suppose I haven’t had that knowledge since February, but it still feels crushing to say. What will I do if you return to me and you are no longer yourself? I know war must change a man but I’m not sure how I will live if I never see your smile again.

“Soap, you’ll squeeze the poor woman to death.” Gaz’s hand grabbed Soap’s shoulder and the Scot let go of her, his hands held onto her shoulders.

“How are you, bonnie? Still workin’ at that measly book store?” Soap looked like he had not slept in weeks, the poor thing.

She shrugged. “Yes.“

“Gaz, lad, how’re you?” Soap then turned away from her, almost strangling Gaz when he hugged him. Soap then began to babble on to him, while she watched the train station again, seeing how it was now becoming less crowded, yet…

There was a man with a boonie hat on, walking towards them with just a small bag. And it felt like someone had grabbed a hold of her ankle and pulled her underwater, she couldn’t scream, cry- Breathe. Just breathe.

She felt something in her heart then, but it wasn’t confirmation. No, she wouldn’t get confirmation until her fingers brushed his dog tag - the only one she would receive from the British Army would be the red one, the hardened rubber imprinted with his identification number, religion, his first initial and Riley.

“Mr. Price.” Her voice was a whisper, the gentleman raised his head to look at her.

What will I do if you do not return? Will I become like the hundreds of widowed wives, crying forever and waiting for their husband’s remains to return home? Will I be able to go to the plaza everyday, knowing that you’ve touched this place before? Will I be able to stay in our home that you’ve put sweat and blood into, just for us? I can’t think anymore of it.

“Mr. Price, please.” She walked towards him, her steps uneasy. She could feel her heart in her throat as it constricted, the air becoming sour as he came closer. The world began to lose her focus, her hands at her side. The man finally stopped, a few feet from her.

He took off his hat and held out his hand.

“Mrs. Riley.”

Her right hand trembled when she held it up, taking his hand and he shook it.

“Please.” Her request made Soap and Gaz go quiet, she placed her left hand upon Price’s. The Captain merely stared at her. “You have to know something about Simon.”

Price merely whispered your name. “You haven’t seen his name on the boards?”

All color drained from Price’s face, and Soap’s hand touched her shoulder. She looked up to Soap, his friendly excitement was now gone. “He isn’t here?”

I don’t think I could ever understand it, that I would ever want to. We’ve talked about it, but it still doesn’t make the ache in my soul any lighter. I cannot think of you anymore, it feels like my heart is playing a melancholy tune on a piano well beyond its years; playing a song I never knew it had memorized. And it’s like my fingers are stuck to the keys, dancing ever so slowly as if the crescendo in the sheet music keeps darting away. The climax of our story hasn’t even crossed the page yet; I keep playing this haunted tune and I don’t want to anymore.

“Y/N, what do you mean he’s not here?”

I want to rip my fingers from the keys and push myself away from the piano. But I only play this tune as I wait for you, only when you’re away from me. What will I do if this will be the only song I can play for the rest of my life?

Her knees went weak then, she almost collapsed if it wasn’t for Soap grabbing her, quickly placing her on the bench before kneeling in front of her. Price did the same, both men held one of her hands.

“No list has had Ghost on it? At all?” Price questioned, tears didn’t even dare reach her eyes. All she could do was stare at the train station, seeing how the train had gone - only a handful of people remained. She could count on both her hands how many people stayed behind, looking like lost souls, wandering.

Soap’s voice wavered when he spoke your name, “Lass, please answer him,” he squeezed her hand, her eyes looked to his before flickering back to Price.

She took a breath in, trying to calm herself but it was a futile attempt. “No, no.” She took another breath, shuddering. She closed her eyes and her head moved down to face her lap. “I…He has to be here, you have to know something.”

“The last time I saw the LT, shite, would’ve been the start of August. We were headin’ back from Hong Kong.” Soap muttered, his hand still firmly squeezing hers. “He was fine. He was with Alejandro, they were heading back, weren’t they?”

Price hummed in agreement. “Maybe he gave his seat up, maybe he escorted Alejandro to London. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” The Captain looked to Soap. “Go check the boards again, maybe they’ve put up the MIA list.”

Soap gave her hand another squeeze before he leapt to his feet, speed walking towards the station while Gaz took his place; Gaz’s hand had a softer grip, much more comforting.

“Mrs. Riley, it will be okay.” Gaz’s voice was soft now, Price was looking over his shoulder. “He’ll be here.”

My mother sent for me. This morning, actually. I was sitting in the study, going through the mail. My father is dying back home in America, and I must go. But I feel that I cannot leave here without knowing. I cannot leave our home without knowing if I get to kiss you or kiss the stone that will lay above your head.

“We should take her home,” Gaz commented to Price, she couldn’t even feel her hands then, her husband’s friends holding her hands tightly. “She needs to go home, Price.”

“Wait.” Price murmured, still watching Soap. She didn’t dare look now, her gaze moved away and to the right. The trees danced with the gentle breeze, leaves twisting and turning on their branches. The lights of the cafe had now burned out, the post office dim too - it seemed everyone had decided to abandon their work today. It made sense.

All she wanted to do now was sit in the bookstore, reading one of those romance books that Simon finds silly in the little reading nook she loved. He’d tell her that reading about romance is not the way to find someone, that all of the romance she’d need would come from him. What a way to woo a woman, she had said. He had smiled.

I’ve wondered what it would be like for you if I leave for America this very moment. You place your key into the lock, twisting it and opening up the front door. The house would be dark, no warmth from the fireplace, nothing to signal that I would be home. Maybe you would think I abandoned you, maybe you would think I had perished. But, I know you. There will be no need to worry, Simon.

“Soap,” Price called, her eyes didn’t move from the bookstore, its lights still on and bright. It was almost like she could see Simon sitting on the window seat across from her, reading A Farewell To Arms by Ernest Hemingway while she read Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell - stealing glances from each other often. They were young then, he was 21 while she was 18, almost 19.

It was their first date. Sitting in the bookstore, stealing glances and being near each other. He had asked her what she was doing here in Manchester, noticing her American accent. She said, “I’m visiting my friends, I’m staying with an aunt.”

Simon sat up, closing his book before looking at her. “And you’re sat here, in a bookstore?”

“You have a much different and bigger selection than home,” She answered, a smile danced on her lips. “But I still love reading my favorite book.” She closed her own book, swinging her legs over the side of the bench, letting her shoes touch the ground. “Say, do you know any good romance books?”

That was the first time she had heard him truly laugh.

I’ve waited so long for you. So long for our life to grow, to spend more than a fleeting moment behind a bookshelf like we did when we were young. I’ve sat in every room of our home, praying and wishing for your safe return. I’ve hoped and wished so hard that I feel that the universe no longer hears me. Oh Simon, I’ve waited centuries in the collective almost six years you have been gone from my side. I’m not sure if I can wait any longer.

She didn’t even hear Soap’s answer. She didn’t even care that Price had pulled her to her feet, asking Soap where she lived. She mindlessly walked beside the soldiers, her ears began to ring.

The sky was gray, whistles of rain fell from it and kissed their heads. She would have normally been walking faster to avoid the rain, her hair taking almost an hour to put up but it felt like her soul had fell free from her chest. It was thrown away on the side of the street, discarded until she decides to find it again.

She was sure she wouldn’t.

The breeze felt bitter now, it was no longer her friend that ebbed by through her hair. It was a dangerous being, whispering in her ear taunts of loneliness, even though her friends walked beside her. Her arms were around both Gaz and Price’s, her hands gently rested on their forearms as they continued through the Manchester streets.

The ring felt heavy now. It felt like someone was pulling on her hand, trying to tear her ring off of her skin; like something was trying to burn it off. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t take it off. It was the only part she had connected to him.

When they finally arrived at her home, she blinked. She refocused her eyes, staring at the black door that seemed to mock her now. Soap fished the key from her purse, opening it - the soldiers pulled her into the house, her dark shoes scraped against the floor, scuffing them. They walked into the living room, gently settling her onto her couch. Their arms left her then, all of the soldiers kneeled before her.

And all she could do was blink, feeling tears burn her cheeks. And none of the men there dared to touch her now, Price’s eyes stayed on hers as Gaz and Soap looked at each other.

“Did you hear him?” Price’s voice was much softer than it was before, kinder - patient. “Did you hear John?”

She shook her head, letting the razor sharp tears slice down her face.

Price held out his hands, to which both of hers settled in. He clutched them gently, as if she was made of porcelain.

“Simon Riley is missing in action.”

I will love you forever. Even if you have left this precious Earth, even if your feet still tread upon it. But I can’t wait for a ghost when I have been waiting for my husband almost our entire marriage. My father is stable enough, they believe. He has two months to live. And because I love you, Simon, I will wait exactly one month after the last train arrives in Manchester with a list of soldiers.

Her tears fell against her dress, louder than anything else in the room. Her hands shook in front of her, she clenched them before she looked up at her husband’s friends.

And if you arrive when I have gone, I am sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back to our home empty handed, even if you are there - because you always leave. You always leave and I have always needed you, Simon. Always. You have hurt me in unimaginable ways, my love, even if you always find your way back home to me. So, just this once - I will be the one leaving. I can’t come back. I won’t come back. I won’t come back to a house that is no longer ours. I will not come back to a house that is just mine.

“Please don’t let me be alone.”

I love you, Simon Riley. Don’t ever forget it.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

—

𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡! 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢!

———

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x afab!reader #lieutenant simon riley #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick

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moodywyrm · 1 year

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i just redid my room this week,, and it has me wondering what abby and readers room/apartment would look like !! and if they would have any pets or plants and things of those sorts !!

-🧸

you have just opened the floodgates. I fucking love home decor n decorating shit, I literally went Bonkers when I got to decorate my bedroom in my college apartment.

ok so I drew out a floor plan.

so this is gonna be. a big one. so. jerry spared literally no expense when he got abby her college apartment. sure its one bedroom one bath, but it's got a spacious living room that connects to the kitchen. there's a big ol island in the kitchen where abby got so many stools bc she wanted to fit all of her besties. thinks her washer n dryer are in the worst spot ever, but they're the stacked ones so it isn't as bad as it could be. that lil area next to the patio? her reading spot. she never really knew what to do with the space until she met you, and then it clicked. reading nook. one of your guys' favorite dates was hitting every thrift store you could to find a good coffee table and old armchairs. one green, one pink, one baby blue. she loves them to bits, they're absolutely moving into her next place with her. she literally Made a bookshelf to store all the books you gradually left at her house, and it's become your joint shelf now <3

the sofa is Huge and her dad bought it for her, it's black upholstery. her apartment doesn't have one particular style, just very Abby. I forgot to draw it in but there is absolutely a trophy case in the living room. her medals and old jerseys are on the wall, mixed with your band posters and art prints. her favorite parts are the framed photo graphs of her friends and family, including multiple of you. she specifically picked an apartment with great windows, and this came in so handy when you moved in because the both of you basically have a fucking Jungle of plants. Hanging plants, plant stands, plants on every surface. ur babies. the walls are a kinda neutral white color, nothing super special, but it really doesn't matter when it's covered in so much stuff! plus, you usually have colored lights on (like salt lamps, candles, bluetooth color shifting lightbulbs), that the walls are usually just whatever color you want them to be. the couch is covered in throw blankets, that you brought in. the main living area, bedroom, and closet are all dark oak hardwood-tile, with the softest rugs known to man, especially in the bedroom bc neither of you want to step on ice cold tile in the winter.

the bathroom is a different, simple white tile. the shower has glass sliding doors, that abby absolutely uses to look at u while u shower n vice versa <3 it has a built in tub that u make full use of. the bathroom counter is covered in candles, trinkets, skincare, hygiene products, but all very organized bc it makes abby stress less.

the bedroom. ok. her bed? godly. so fucking comfy. king sized, with the softest sheets ever and the plushest comforter and blankets. satin pillowcases you brought in <3 abby religiously washes her bedding, so it cycles from black to pink to blue every three weeks. the bedroom walls are also covered in art prints and wall hangings, but all of these were picked by the both of you. a lot of it is thrifted or bought from local artists, bc you absolutely drag abby to local craft fairs and the like <3 that chest at the end of the bed holds spare bedding and ,,,, other things ,,,, it is locked. on the wall between the doors to the bathroom and closet is a huge standing mirror, and underneath it is a small table and area for you to do your makeup. gives you top tier fit pics, it is also the mirror abby uses for ,,,, other things. it also! gives u a perfect look at abby while she's working at her desk. above her desk is a huge wall grid/corkboard that she hangs a bunch of shit on. I forgot to draw them in but she also has more bookshelves on the wall across from the bed, specifically four small-medium ones, separated by a dresser that holds a bunch of spare stuff and some of her workout gear that she uses often enough to keep out of the closet.

ok the fun stuff. books fucking Everywhere!!! and cool dishware that you thrifted when you moved in. the kitchen is so well loved and worn in, bc you two love cooking together. the couch is much the same way, well worn n comfortable as all hell, literally one of your favorite spots in the apartment. ur actual favorite spot? the patio. it's beautiful, covered in plants, always burning incense out there, comfortable seating, a beautiful view of the park across the street. u and abby spend your weekend mornings out there, usually bundled up into one big chair while abby dozes and you read, drinking coffee or tea or your preferred morning beverage. the apartment smells so good bc candles and incense and abby's rigorous cleaning. her apartment feels like home for the both of you, carefully curated to be a little sanctuary after long days of classes and practices and just general stress.

this is my magnum opus. I have a problem. I will probably speak more on this.

#🧸 anon #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x reader fluff

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brilla-brilla-estrellita · 10 months

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Snowbaz & Co Barbie Outfits

I was chatting with a few others in discord and we were all in agreement that Simon and Baz would absolutely be going to see Barbie, and would be bringing Mordelia, Petra, and Sophie along.

But what would they wear?

This is how I’ve spent my job hunting free time over the last few weeks.

Pink and nonsense below the cut.

Petra

I feel like she’s a total horse girl. She spends all of her time thinking about horses and drawing horses and riding horses both real and imaginary. When Baz tells her they’re going to dress up for the movie, Petra is ready with her pink accessories to be Equestrian Barbie. There are a few versions of this Barbie, but I wasn’t that into them. Petra can do better. I asked my horse-riding friends how they would Barbie-fy the standard English riding look, and they said pink accessories. So:

Let’s start with our base equestrian look. White top with pink lining on the collar/cuffs, beige or... whatever color that is for the breeches, and field boots (I hear this is what they are called?). Then we add the pink accessories! (Yes, that is a unicorn on the end of that crop). Hot pink breeches optional. I’m foregoing the riding coat because it’s summer and we just don’t need that extra layer, but it does really pull the look together, and I did find a suuuuuper cute pink one.

I don’t know anything about riding, especially English riding, so don’t come at me if this doesn’t make any sense (I would like to know how you would Barbie-fy your own riding look, though!).

Links: Base Outfit (left), Gloves, Crop, Helmet Cover, Breeches

Sophie

Sophie heard “wear pink” and knew just the dress for the occasion. This was the dress she wore for her most recent birthday party (because they totally have super posh, fancy kid birthdays that require nice new dresses, right?). I’m pretty sure the twins are somewhere around 10 now, and this is definitely something I would have worn as a 10 year old.

My inspiration for Sophie’s look was the 2010 Modern Princess Barbie (left) and the 2011 Cut ‘N Style Princess (right).

Links: Barbie Modern Princess (left), Dress, Barbie Cut ‘N Style Princess (right)

Mordelia

I imagine Mordelia goes immediately to a retro look. She’s around 15 at this point and could totally be into makeup and fashion. I like to imagine she’s kind of artsy, and while she’s the perfect age to be in her emo phase (which I would love for her to have), I understand this is not a “thing” anymore among the youths. Either way, I like to think Mordelia is a bit of a chameleon and floats around to whatever style inspires her at the moment. (Am I projecting? Yes. Yes, I am.)

I think she would prefer to go for the original 1959 Barbie with the black and white swimsuit (bodysuit?) and sunglasses, but Baz insists on pink (or Simon... yeah... it’s definitely all Simon). So they compromise on a modern take on the Flower Power era of the 60s and 70s. The dress has the large-scale, brightly colored floral print and miniskirt of the 60s with the bell sleeves more common in the 70s. I used this 1969 P.J. Talking doll for inspiration.

She goes all-out on the makeup with the recently revived and renovated mod eye look (top left) and sort of clumped, thick bottom lashes (bottom right) (there’s got to be a better way to describe that....). And the knee-high white boots, of course. She’s really just an amalgamation of all the most fun trends of the 1960s.

Can you tell I had the most fun with this one?

Links: Mod-inspired Eye Makeup (top left), Dress, P.J. Talking doll, Boots, Classic Mod Eye Makeup (bottom right)

Simon

I had a really hard time with both of the boys. But here we are. As soon as I saw the 1982 Ken Fashion Jeans, I knew that was my inspiration for Simon. It just felt so right. Though I didn’t use the actual jeans part as the inspiration, I did go with another 80s jean staple: acid wash jeans. And imagine the light pink shirt is actually the most obnoxious hot pink you can think of.

I like to think Simon already had both of these pieces in his closet. Baz will be ensuring those top buttons stay undone all day, as god intended.

Honorable mention to this shirt that also has a Simon-look-alike for a model (tbh I still think maybe I should pick that one every time I look at it) and this basically mesh shirt.

Links: Soft Pink Knit Shirt (top left), Hot Pink Polo (top right), Acid Wash Jeans, Ken Fashion Jeans doll

Baz

The one that I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for that I’m also sure is going to disappoint... Baz. Boy did I struggle with Baz. What would he wear? A suit? More casual? More costume-y? Ultimately I decided casual since everyone else would be casual, it’s summer, and, more importantly, I couldn’t find any hot pink floral suits for men.

Once I narrowed it down to casual, I still couldn’t decide. I didn’t even have a good reference for inspiration. Nothing felt quite Baz. Honestly, I need help.

I think I’ve settled on this large-scale floral print on the top left that feels like a very Barbie-esque print, but it’s not quite right. It for sure needs to be a little less boxy and a little more tailored like the slightly more classic Bazzy floral shirts below. The cherry blossoms (top right) are pretty and pink, but not quite Barbie and not quite Baz. The bottom left seems the most... typical? Not a bad choice (aside from the fact that Baz absolutely would not shop at Target or Walmart where I found this shirt). The bottom right is a little more bold and has the hot pink, but... I’m just not sure.

And of course we need a good “Baz, you’re wearing jeans!” moment. Why is there a picture of Trent Crimm/James Lance instead of jeans on the left, you ask? When is a photo of Trent Crimm not relevant to Baz? He’s wearing jeans, isn’t he?

Links: Beautiful James Lance in Jeans, Large-Print Floral Shirt (top center), Cherry Blossoms Shirt (top right), Small Floral Print Shirt (bottom center), Shiny and Bold Floral Print (bottom right)

What do you all think? Which top is the most Baz x Barbie? Has anyone else thought about what everyone would wear to see Barbie? I’d love to see!

#Snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #mordelia grimm #barbie movie #i seriously spent so much time on this #and i still can't decide which shirt baz should wear #if any #what if they're all actually bad options #what do i do???

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notanettelmao · 2 years

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The Food Blogger [Colin x reader]

This might have a part two if enough people like it

I actually talked about writing something with Colin about a month ago, but then I went out with some friends and had a family emergency and I somehow forgot about it?? So this is not really what I planned at first, lol

tagging some of the people that sounded really interested in my idea when I posted about it: @vic-top @iputthefaninfanfics @idylio24 (sorry if it isn't what you were expecting hehe)

Fandoms: Not Okay Movie Warnings: weed, me being bad at writing stuff that sounds like Colin, Danni is being Danni... Pairings: future Colin x reader Words: 1,7k

“Okay Y/N, take a picture, post it on Instagram, post the blog post with the recipe and link it to your stories. You’ve done this multiple times, nothing’s scary about it..” The girl mumbled as she moved around her table, trying to get the best angle to take a picture of her creation. The table had a thin white tablecloth thrown over it to cover the multiple paint stains from when the girl tried to be creative. On the tablecloth, in the middle of the table, sat a black plate with pancakes on top of it. The girl managed to sprinkle more powdered sugar on the pancakes as she found the right angle. At first glance, there was nothing special about the pancakes, maybe the three raspberries on top which ended up there after she thought the brown color of the pancakes was a little boring. But if someone would eat the food, they would find out it actually had a secret ingredient. Weed.

How did the weed end up in the pancakes of a girl who has never even touched a joint? Funny story actually, it started with her getting a new job as a food blogger. On the same day, she bumped into a particular bleached guy, who smelled like weed. Hell, you could smell him from a few meters away, that’s how bad the weed smell was. Noone at work seemed to notice it, or maybe they were just used to it at this point. There wasn’t actually anything that interesting about him, except the good looks, pretty eyes, absolutely tasty-looking lips and- the girl’s phone buzzed next to her. She groaned and turned around to pick it up from the counter to look at who texted her.

‘U free?’

Was what she saw under Danni’s name on her screen. What the hell did Danni want? She hasn’t talked to her since she found out she also had the hots for Colin. They had a fight about who could possibly actually end up dating him. Let’s say Danni didn’t like the idea of him not liking either of them.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she clicked on the call button and put the phone near her ear, using her other hand to look at the pictures she took with her camera.

“Y/N? Why are you calling me, couldn’t you just text back like a normal person?” Danni’s voice was heard from the phone speaker not even after the first beep.

“Kinda trying to work here, figured out calling would be quicker,” Y/N mumbled into the phone, still not knowing what to think about the other girl calling her.

“Anyway, what do you want?” She asked right after and put her camera down on the table next to the plate, walking to her couch so she could sit down.

“I was wondering if you would want to go out to get some coffee… Talk about boys… You know, all the stuff. You didn’t respond to any of my emails so-”

“Fine, I’ll be down in five.” Y/N hung up before Danni could continue. She was already regretting her decision. But she also didn’t want to let go of one of her only work friends. A stupid fight over a boy should not end a friendship, right?

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Danni was late. Y/N stood outside in her black sweatpants and a black baggy t-shirt with some random prints all over it. She was regretting putting on her new Vans, as she could already feel the skin on her heels protesting. She was scrolling through her Instagram, liking Colin’s new posts when a pair of white shoes appeared on the ground in front of her. She slowly looked up, noticing the brown pants and lighter-brown hoodie. Finally, she saw Danni’s face framed by two blonde strands of hair on each side, tucked behind her ears.

“Hiii!” Danni cheered, pulling Y/N into a hug almost making her drop her phone.

“Uh, hi,” Y/N laughed awkwardly. Danni didn’t seem to notice.

“How have you been? I saw you gained some followers after those yummy-looking weed recipes,” Danni’s eyes sparkled when she mentioned the followers. Y/N slowly blinked, realizing the other girl just wanted to boost her follower count.

“Oh, I’ve been great, yeah…” Y/N put away her phone as they started walking down the street. Danni started talking about her wanting to get into writing and Y/N was just nodding her head, not really listening. She was mostly looking around wondering where they were going to end up.

“No way! Je obsessed!” Danni said suddenly, making Y/N stop and look at what she was looking at. They stood in front of a tiny coffee shop called Matcha Baby. A waitress put out a sign and walked back inside.

“Influencers eat free?” Y/N read aloud. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh when she noticed Danni checking her follower count.

“Not today,” Danni made a face and turned to continue walking when she stopped and just stared. Y/N almost bumped into her as she didn’t notice her just standing there again.

“What the hell Da-” Y/N started to say. Then she noticed what the other girl was staring at.

“-nni. Oh, you’ve got to be shittin’ me.” She mumbled under her breath. A few meters away from them there was a black car. They both stared as Colin stepped out of it, smoke surrounding him as he breathed it out, and started walking their way. Y/N was already moving to the side so he could walk by. Danni had other ideas.

“Colin!” Danni exclaimed loudly, making Y/N wince. Colin stopped right in front of them.

“Oh shit. Waddup honey? Yea I can’t take a pic right now. But-” Colin said, making Y/N snort. She quickly covered her mouth but Colin already turned his attention to her.

“Oh, I’ve seen you before?” He asked, looking Y/N up and down. She made a surprised noise, trying to ignore Danni who was plotting her murder by the looks she was giving her.

“Oh, I- Ehm I work in the same building? Make food posts on insta and.. stuff..” Y/N cringed as her voice cracked.

“Shiit right! You make those lit weed posts!” He looked down at his phone, quickly typing something on the screen, and then turned it to face her.

“Haven’t actually seen yo acc on my insta, just saw an article. Give me your user?” He asked. Y/N’s eyes widened and she took his phone into her shaking hands, quickly typing her Instagram username into the search bar. She then returned his phone with a shy smile on her face.

“Sick,” he tapped on the screen, few seconds later she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming. Was this really happening?

“I work in that building too!” Danni said loudly so the two of them heard her. They both looked at each other and then turned their heads to look at Danni.

“Yeah. Anyway. I’m supposed to be going to-” Colin looked at his screen and then up at the coffee shop, “- there. Matcha Babyy. Plus my plug lives here so two birds one stone.” He waved his hand towards the building.

“Yeah, I smoke marijuana, like, all the time!” Danni said, smiling.

“Oh lord,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, deciding to pull out her phone and pretend she is doing something.

“Ever seen one of these?” Colin asked, lighting the weird-looking joint. Y/N quickly turned on her camera and pointed it at Danni when she saw her reaching for the joint. Danni inhaled the smoke and started coughing before she gave the joint back to Colin. Y/N was silently laughing as she sent the video to one of her friends back home. She missed Colin talking to a random fan on the other side of the street because of the spam of laughing emojis she got as a response.

“So cool that you have a fan!” Danni said in between coughs. Colin shot a quick look at Y/N and then back to Danni.

“Oh yeah, I got a- I got a bunch. That’s just one.” He chuckled.

“So like, what are you? Like, at Depravity? I see she-” he waved his hand towards Y/N, “ is a food blogger. What are you?”

“I’m a- I’m a writer,” Danni said. Y/N rolled her eyes. Writer, sure. Colin completely zoned out taking selfies with his joint as she talked more.

“I wanna develop my work by traveling and stuff. And maybe like, going on one of those writer retreats-” That got Colin’s attention.

“Oh, you’re going on a retreat?” He zoned out again as he got a notification. Y/N just stood there, staring at the two of them as if she was watching a movie. She only needed popcorn.

“I’m going to Paris for it,” Danni said out of nowhere and Y/N choked on air, almost falling over. Colin looked up from his phone to Danni.

“Shit. That’s dope. Hey, get pics,” he was ready to walk away when Danni stepped into his way, making Y/N start choking once again.

“I’m gonna get lots of pics! Yeah. Throw them all up on the gram!” Danni made a random dance move and Y/N turned to look at the lady that was sitting on the ground next to them this whole time. They both had the same look on their faces, they were completely done with Danni.

“By the way, this was laced with, like, mad wax, so your tolerance must be OD as fuck. Damn, ma. Good luck in Paris, Jenny.” He turned to Y/N.

“Good to meet you both,” he said as he walked away.

“Danni,” Danni said, turning around to look at him walking away.

“What’s up?” He stopped and looked at her.

“My name is Danni.”

“No, it’s Colin.” He said. Y/N busted out laughing.

“I’ll see you at work,” Colin said, looking at Y/N. Then he turned to look at Danni.

“Or I guess I won’t.” He then walked away. Danni started laughing loudly, making both the homeless lady and Y/N look at her like at a crazy person.

“Fuck me,” Danni said as she finished laughing.

“Fuck you indeed,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, making the homeless lady snort.

#colin x reader #not okay movie #colin not okay #danni sanders #reader #fanfic #basically used the convo in the movie #i literally had no idea how to write the stuff he is saying so i thought of random stuff that i hate #dylan o'brien x reader

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apolloanddaphnis · 1 year

Text

Fawnskin

A/N: Okay so I'm new to this Tumblr fanfiction posting. This isn't very good but I feel a lot better when I write what my interests and create as an outlet. This hasn't been edited, fair warning.

Furthermore, I'm new to the Timothée Chalamet fan world, I don't pretend to know everything about him. With that said, please be gentle with me.

Themes: Trans OC, POC OC, an original character created by me, allusions to smut, Timothée pining, OC pining. (I think that's all).

Part 1

When I saw her…when I discovered her…it was tonight.

Tonight began at half past eight on sunset boulevard. It started when I entered the back way of the famous and legendary Viper room.

Small, galley-pathed, and obsidian lack of light. Smelled of so much alcohol I wouldn't dare to light a match…or maybe I would. Sweat and a small amount of alluring filth perfumed beneath, like a scent of sin and rock and roll. This wasn't my usual scene, it's an interesting scene, a respected scene, a scene too cool for me, but not my scene nonetheless.

I left my friends at LAVO, wandered down the strip aimlessly just needed some air, and I don't know why. Some unknown force just drew me here…to this claustrophobic nightmare drenched in black.

And then I heard it…her…

I heard synthesizers, drums, and guitars and a loud bass, but…I heard her , I heard her dreamy, yet raspy, tightly-reined yet soft, childlike and pouty yet seductive…voice. I never desired to hear a voice more than hers ever, nothing could compare ever. It was a beautiful whiny, powdery , Punk sounding sort of melodic vocals. I excused myself through the crowd of some young yet mainly middle aged and older crowd in band tees and leather and docs, and I wondered if the angel of this voice was older than she sounded.

But I somehow found myself at the front, right in front of the well used stage and came eye to eye with fishnet legs and teal, patent leather, pointed toe heels with corset tight straps strangling delicate ankles. It made me want to save those exquisitely dainty ankles, and press a thousand and ten kisses to the ankle bone and her fibula…or tibula? Whatever, I want to kiss and suck every bone of her scrumptious feet.

I allowed my eyes to travel up long, clean-limbed, well formed legs, shapely thighs and and a doll‐like, hourglass figure that suffocated in a half zebra print, half cherry red, strapless dress, that was held together and cinched with zebra print string tied in a shoelace bow, the front…a shuddering, tantalizing, deep cut..almost down to the naval, opening greedy eyes to perky, perfectly rounded, visibly bouncy, dewy, prettily fawn colored cleavage. I had a new favorite color and I think it might be…fawn.

With every bounce those luscious breasts knocked me out and caused embarrassing stirring in my pants. There was a slit in the middle, due to the dress being a wrap with only the string to hold it together, you could almost see the crotch area, but shapely fawn-colored (fuck me), thighs blocked the image beautifully.

I was greedy suddenly and my eyes needed to see more, I looked up into the most prettiest face I could remember. Heart-shaped, dark espresso hooded eyes and long, dark sweeping lashes, big,full, lolly red painted lips too big for her delicate jawline, you could tell she's mixed with African-American, so damn beautiful. And white-gold, blown out hair that fell past her shoulders framed her face in layers.

She looked at me and I saw God.

—

A month later, in between breakups, I couldn't get her out of my head. I had gone back to the Viper Room to see if she would be there again but she wasn't. I asked the booking agent the name of the band, but she just laughed at me.

Why was it impossible to find her? I couldn't get her out of my head, she was like a nymph, a secretive mystery embodied in unknown desire. Fawn-colored skin, clean-limbed legs and white-sugar blonde hair, and that voice…like Nancy Sinatra but naughtier yet more innocent.

I gotta stop this obsession, but there's something about…this wasn't very healthy…

I woke up at two in the morning, wired like I was on something. I pulled on my sweatpants and a hoodie, I slipped on my Adidas and headed out, I just had to have the night (or early morning) air hit my face and wake me from these endless dreams.

I ended up driving around, Cudi's latest on low, the streets were surprisingly alive, but it is L.A. on a Thursday night.

But then I saw her, was I imagining her? Because those legs and that petite height were definitely that of a dream. I did a u-turn to see the front just to confirm that I am indeed losing my mind and it is someone else.

But walking past Mel's drive in, in a long teddy coat falling off her shoulders, a ripped, wine red turtleneck dress that's ripped and ribbed with safety pins in the tears, hugged her body like a pin up, making it painfully obvious she wasn't wearing a bra again. I slowed my bmw 5 series, the windows thankfully tinted. Those shapely legs encased in ripped fishnets again, velour , leopard print platform boots pounded the avenue, giving the illusion of average height. Her elvish blonde hair was up in a pretty, messy updo, held up hazardly by pins, her layered bangs framed her doll face, she had heroin chic smokey eyes and her lips painted a quietly provocative, nude-brown, almost fawn-colored..tone. safety pins adorned her ear as earrings and a black, patent leather, heart shaped bag dangled from her hands.

Before I could stop myself, I rolled down the window. I looked like a crazy person, but maybe she wouldn't be too scared, I'm famous enough right? God, that sounded arrogant.

"Hey, hi! " I hope my hazardous greeting didn't come out too harsh.

She stopped abruptly, looking every bit of the word startled. Like a deer in the headlights, her dark chocolate eyes widened and she looked up before looking around then down.

I felt like a creep, I didn't like seeing that expression on her face but…but this was a rare chance to find her again, it's been an entire month! I can't go through that again, I don't even know her goddamn name!

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you, I know this looks weird." I ran a hand through my curls.

She looked up, a hint of recognition flickered in her eyes before she stared down again.

"I saw your show at the Viper Room last month. But I never got your name, I had to meet my friends and left…".

I didn't really know what else to say.

She crossed her legs a little, bending her knee a bit, biting her sensuous full bottom lip, I felt stirring in my sweats and was glad I was still in the car.

"Madison."

The angel speaks.

Her speaking voice is as beautiful as her singing voice. Raspy and light, sweet and scratchy. I wanted to record it.

Madison, Madison, Madison…I've heard the name so many times but never once did it sound so pretty.

"Madison." I repeated.

She nodded. "Madison." She smiled, it was small but it felt like she gave me the rarest and most valuable gift. I couldn't help but stare, she's so pretty and delicate.

"Kelly, Madison Kelly." She finished, she had a dreamy sort of tone to her voice, accent a little valley, you could tell she was from around here and not one of the many transients.

Her voice and her smile was healing and satisfying.

"What's your name?'' She was now relaxing a little more, her smile didn't look to be going anywhere and I couldn't get enough of it.

I wondered if she was humoring me, trying to make me feel more comfortable by feigning ignorance of who I am. It's considerate and sweet. I played along with a smirk. "Timothée. "

She giggled, it strangely made me hard. "That's so cute, such a sweet name."

I smiled and looked at her. "Why are you walking the street so late? It's dangerous. "

She bit her lip like she was caught doing something naughty. "I ran away."

I frowned, she does look young, but I was hoping at least eighteen, but she's wearing so much makeup she could be sixteen under there.

"From home?"

She smiled, "No, my friends."

I nodded, my eyes roamed her form, I wanted to measure her wide hips with my hands.

"Are you heading anywhere in particular?" I couldn't stop myself, I wish I would just shut up and act normal, I didn't want to scare away this…fawn.

Looking closer I see an attractive, rhinestone stud in her nostril, I had the urge and necessity to lick it.

I gripped my steering wheel, she noticed the small detail but didn't say anything. She stared at my hands for a long time.

"I just needed to walk…I get overwhelmed sometimes in crowds." She explained as she hugged the lamp post.

I wish it were my body she clung to…great, Tim you've lost it, you're now jealous of a fucking lamp post.

"You did good with them at the Viper Room."

She smiled,it was faraway and dreamy. "I focus on one person, and pretend I'm only singing to one person." She hid her face against the post and giggled.

I was even more enamored with this adorable little creature.

"We could go to Mel's over there, get a milkshake or coffee or fries or a burger, I don't care. I don't want you to freeze out here."

To my fucking luck and surprise, she nodded and timidly walked over to my car.

I got out of it, she looked up at me a bit wide eyed, noticing our height difference, had to be about five inches, and she's wearing platform boots. I smirked as I opened my door. The passenger seat was facing the streets, and even though there aren't many drivers out right now. I didn't want to risk her.

She half stepped in and I half helped her up by her waist. Just touching her, smelling her very rosy, sweet smelling shampoo, I knew I had to sit her down before she would feel her effect on me and think I'm some creep.

I buckled her in, and she watched me with a soft smile. I looked up into her dark doe eyes as I latched the seat belt together, it pressed into her stomach. I smiled a little and she bit those sinful lips and looked away. I eyed one of the holes of the dress that rested on her plump breast and licked my lips before sitting in the driver's seat and starting the car back up.

I drove us across the street to the parking lot of Mel's. There were a good amount of people there for 3am close to 4, but not packed like it was at midnight. I didn't let Madison get out on her own. I got out so fast and opened her door for her, reached over and unbuckled her seatbelt, before lifting her by her waist and helping her down delicately. I hadn't let her go yet, my thumb gently stroking her prettily wide hips. She didn't seem to be upset, she just held onto my shoulders, she leaned in and looked around , accidentally her cheek brushes against my chest, it was almost like I was holding her.

"Thank you." She said and then before I knew it, she was out of my arms, heading inside, and thanking the security.

I followed behind her so fast, I was practically on her ass before taking her soft hand and leading her to the booth farthest away from everyone, trying to avoid being noticed.

We were in the corner and immediately a friendly waiter came over asking us what we would like, but saying hi to Madison, tell her it's always nice seeing her. She giggled and asked him how everything was and I was hideously jealous, she should be looking at me talking to me that way. It was an absolute thing to do but I interrupted.

"Madi, did you want a milkshake?" My voice sounded a little strained, my fingers twitched, they were a stretch away from hers, the nails not too long, and wore black chipped nail polish.

She was delayed in her response, she slowly looked away from the waiter and looked up at me, her dreamy eyes made my heart stop and speed up at the same time. Her pouty lips parted and then she smiled, it was sweet and genuine, she looked so happy, and I felt ten feet tall because I made her that happy, not the waiter.

"Can I have this one?" She sweetly slid the menu over to me, pointing to what was called the Lana del Rey milkshake, it was an oreo milkshake with chocolate syrup.

I smiled at her, sweet girl. "You can have anything you want."

She smiled wide before biting her succulent lip.

I ordered her shake and ordered mine, plain chocolate. I also ordered fries.

"You-uh, smell very nice." Wow Timmy, that was lame.

I looked to see if she was smirking unimpressed, but the angel before me looked elated, her eyes just completely lit up and she was beaming. "Thank you Timothée, it's basically samples…perfumes are expensive but…I get samples, I have a friend who works at Sephora um…yeah I forget which, I sprayed a lot of different ones." She giggled, sitting up a little straighter.

My eyes gently, briefly glanced at her breasts that bounced. I cleared my throat and dragged my gaze to her warm, deep eyes. "Your voice is beautiful, do you sing for a living?"

She was flustered at the compliment, aside she didn't know she was amazing. "I sometimes sing. Like once a month, it's a cover band called Rapture, we always cover Blondie or Anita Lane usually, sometimes others."

I don't know who Anita Lane is but I'm a little familiar with Blondie, I like what I've heard. Seems like my little fawn is a nostalgic girl, which is very sexy.

"What do you do when you don't sing like an angel?" Our shakes arrived and I thanked the waiter.

She did too before wrapping those cocksucking lips around the straw, unintentionally so distracting. "My keyboardist, Kyle, he does indie films, they're very artsy, he likes to film me…and he likes me to perform at his art shows too." She ended in a gossamer, shy tone.

I was enthralled, she's an intriguing nymph of a girl, it would make sense someone would capture her beauty and present it as exactly what she is, art.

Time was irrelevant with her, I don't remember her eating my fries but I do remember the moment when my heart decided it was hers.

It was nearly six in the morning when we left the diner. She was rubbing her smokey eyes adorably like a sleepy toddler. I carried her into my car and she tiredly gave me the address to where she lives.

I watched the sun rise on her face until we were at an apartment building in koreatown. I carried her to the fifth floor, she fumbled with her keys and opened the door. With the prettiest sleepy, doe eyes, gorgeously smudged with makeup, she said goodnight Timmy…I didn't see her for a year.

—---------------------♡♡♡♡♡♡—--------------------

Madison's POV

I called Kyle Kimberley a liar and closed the door in his face when he told me Amazon wanted to pick up his movie.

We've known each other since special Ed math, at Venice High school. He's the only friend from high school I still had, and I'm very glad. He's always been there for me and has never been toxic.

For as long as I can remember he's had a fascination with film and nostalgia. He likes how they used to do it and looks up to David lynch, Neil Jordan, Joe Schumacher…

He even uses the same camera as Lost Boys and the company of wolves.

He looks like a mix of 80s Kyle Maclachlan and Cole Sprouse. Everything he wears and owns is from a thrift store and he smells like clove cigarettes and Aramis.

Sea, Swallow Me, was the film they picked up. It's about a runaway trans teenage girl from Paris, Texas. She named herself Holli Daryl, after Holli Would in Cool world, and Daryl Hannah. The movie starts out at dusk, her parents come home to find the movie Splash playing, a note on pink paper written in violet crayon with Lisa Frank stickers detailing how Holli (her dead name, Connor) made sure their neighbors The Weiss's were watching their Doberman, Billy so he wouldn't witness her becoming a mermaid. They found her drowning herself in the pool, the movie volume on high. They then committed Holli to a mental hospital. After one week at Esperanza Valley Mental Hospital, fifteen year old Holli meets psychologist Dr. Lewis Reed, they have an affair and she loses her virginity to him, he gets her hormones and despite her being too young, he gets his surgeon friend to give her sex reassignment surgery. A year at Esperanza Valley, Dr. Reed's wife, Amanda, shows up, she finds out about her husband's affair. She shoots him in the head and then shoots herself.

Holli is devastated and runs away, Dr. Reed was the only one who protected her from the abuse at the hospital and the main security was always trying to sexually assault her. She hitchhiked, on her way to Los Angeles. In Tucson, at a truck stop at two in the morning, she comes across a handsome, 27 year old drifter named Axel, who's played by my ex boyfriend, Fallon Robbins, and lead singer of our cover band.

They fall in love right away, before having sex, Holli tells Axel that she's trans and he tells her he doesn't care. The movie surrounds their toxic, obsessive love, Holli doesn't shy away from Axel's possessiveness because she's never felt love.

Kyle paid a lot of money to have the Cocteau twins play music for the soundtrack.

He had one viewing at an AMC in Inglewood, someone saw it and he got a call.

The big Hollywood premiere is a week after Coachella, it's incredible. I feel surreal, couldn't believe this was happening to Kyle and that they want interviews with me. Designers have been sending me clothes, I couldn't believe it. Kyle bought a suite at Hotel Marmont like the classics he said.

The cast and crew of Kyle's film were given tickets to Coachella from Amazon, like a promotion.

Coachella never was our thing, we liked mainly music before the 21st century. But it'll be fun, I'm sure of it. There were all expenses paid for staying at the Paloma Resort, which gave me a Palm Springs feel.

Everything has-been so wonderful, everyone so kind. But when I checked into my room I collapsed onto the bed feeling empty.

A feeling I haven't been able to rid myself of since I met Timothee.

I ended up finding out he's a very famous actor. I don't watch too many new things so I was a little clueless. But now I know and I have seen some of his projects, I am impressed, I am bewitched and melancholy.

I miss the man I met once who smelled like weed and laundry detergent, who bought me milkshakes and shared his fries. Anytime I go to Mel's I now sit at that seat.

The morning after I left I lost my phone, I must have left it at the diner in the bathroom.

I feel so stupid crying right now, on one of the best days of my life.

Kyle knocked on the door. "Madi, get dressed, we're heading over soon."

Sniffling, I wiped my eyes. "Okay!"

I got up and took off my Edward Scissorhands t-shirt, I stripped out of my split denim shorts and black Vans hi-tops. I reapplied my strawberry and vanilla deodorant. I turned on my Spotify and Love my Way flooded the room. I washed my face with aloe vera cleanser and slapped on a tony moly sheet mask. I washed my vagina always making sure to take extra care, I was careful about what I put in and on my body, so many things could go wrong with my situation. I brushed my teeth and finished prepping, I left my hair in its natural , bleached, ringlets, adding some curl cream and mousse and gel, doing a slight wet look. I recreated Rose McGowans '98 MTV awards dress, chain link, chain mail, dress that left nothing to the imagination. It's Coachella and you gotta dress risqué.

I'm a little curvy and like any human have a million and one insecurities, but at the same time I have this weird, perverse compulsion to expose my thick thighs, ample backside, and soft stomach. I was proud of my breasts, though, they turned out perfect and they're the only thing on my body that doesn't make me cringe. I zippledup my patent vegan leather, grommet stiletto boots with the Patrick charm, adding some accessories, I decided to wear a lot of eyeliner, black glittery eyes, and deep red lips. I sprayed on Persian rose by Pacifica and grabbed my star-shaped sunglasses and velvet rat-shaped purse.

Kyle and I headed to the festival together, he looked fabulous in silver faux leather overall shorts, and silver docs, black eyeshadow, black eyeliner, lip gloss, and black curtains of hair falling in his face.

"This entire year has felt like dementia…" he then grinned at me. "But in a good way."

"In the best way, you've worked so hard Kyle, this is all you. I'm so proud of you." I exclaimed.

"Oh please, you gorgeous girl, your looks and uncanny talent of penetrating the audience with your skills got me here, you're like the black Pam Anderson with the talent of Isabella Rosselini!"

"You're dramatic, and Pamela is very skinny remember?"

"You're right her body is nowhere near as great as yours, very Kim Petras."

I laughed and rolled my eyes. Kyle does not allow me to trash myself, I'm very lucky to have him.

"Okay stop talking in celebrity, it's very Gilmore Girls."

It was a little difficult but we found the Empire Polo club where the festival takes place. Everyone looked amazing like they were going to a rave in a fairy realm, there was a lot of energy.

"I am counting the moments to where I'll be beautifully Byroned. " Kyle said as he headed to VIP parking.

"So fucked up?" I giggled.

"Mmm" he responded with a secret smile. "Let's go." He grabbed his fanny pack and we both got out of his white Jeep Gladiator.

He held my hand and we walked together, phones were out and people were calling our names. I kept my head down, it was surreal, it was wild. I was nobody and now I'm the indie, trans actress from an American art film.

I saw no reason to keep being trans a secret, I'm proud of who I am and my journey, I never desired fame. This was all sudden and while I'm used to being on stage and small clubs, crowds like this made my anxiety spike. Kyle rubbed my back to calm me down as he smiled and said hello.

I wanted to say hi and be nice to all these people being so kind and supportive of me, but it's hard to deal with that much attention at once. I need to gather myself. I felt guilty.

Once in, I took deep breaths relaxing a little. Kyle rubbed my arm. "Babes, you wait right here, I'll be right back, I'm going to get us tacos and cerveza, okay? You alright now?"

I nodded with a smile. He smiled back and kissed my head before heading to the food trucks.

I didn't want to immediately go to VIP, Kyle and I discussed that we didn't want to be closed off to people. God, it's so weird that we have to think about that. Last year, we were broke with 3 different jobs in our Koreatown apartment, spending too many nights at the Viper Room, the whiskey, the rainbow, Barneys…we were poor skater kids who went to Venice High School. Now look at us.

I drank some water I brought with me, sipping and feeling a lot better and looked around.

"Madison?"

My heart stopped, hearing the voice that has plagued my dreams every night. I turned around to see Timothée.

Timothée's POV

I couldn't wait for Coachella, I needed a serious distraction. My friends didn't understand how one girl could have such an effect on my everyday life.

But she was always the only thing, she invoked the passion in my acting, the anger of her not returning my texts and calls, the sadness of losing something someone that could have been, the uncontrollable lust to fuck her so hard she can never walk away from me again, and the pure and utter joy I get tickling in my intestines whenever I think of how her eyes lit up when I got her that strawberry milkshake. When I kissed when I made love on screen, it was her I was touching, it was her tongue I was sucking, it was her body I was slamming against the wall.

Seeing her buxom figure lazily contained in dripping chains, no effort to disguise any bit of delicious, fawn-colored flesh, just a flimsy, French cut black thong, but sizable, round, Hazel colored nipples bounced on display. Her body is soft and lusty, its statuesque and stacked. Her ass is thick, ample, and bouncy, a quarter would certainly bounce off of it with no trouble.

I desired nothing more than to have my head crushed by her luscious thighs. I swallowed as my eyes traveled up her comely form to the ideal face, heart shaped with a wide jaw, hugely plump lips painted in an obscene dessert shade of candied-strawberry red, I wanted to eat them on a plate, cover them and sugar and devour them slowly. Her wide, dark eyes were even bigger due to the smoky paint around them. Her white-gold ringlets bounced in perfect layers around her doll-like face, tickling her shoulders.

She's so little, probably around 5'2 without the stiletto boots that made her legs look long.

I nearly fell to my knees like I was in her cult to worship her at her altar.

I wanted to be angry, to demand a fucking explanation for ghosting me. But she looked so damn happy at the sight of me, her eyes lit up again, her honey skin glistening like gold in the California sun, and maybe it made me an idiot but, I slid over to her.

I caressed my hand up her neck, my other gently claimed her soft hip. If this all goes awry, I'll blame the copious amount of weed I smoked and how soft her silky beige skin feels beneath my fingers, how fucking unfairly good she smells- what is that? Roses? One million and one? I was a goner. Stupidly I focused on her pillowy, blood colored mouth as I just rubbed them with mine, I just had to feel them just a feel…not a kiss…but I broke that promise when she sighed so softly and gossamer, pressing her mouth against mine with starvation.

#timothée chalamet x oc #timothée chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothee x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #trans oc #poc oc

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queer-history-archive · 2 years

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Lesbian Flag Timeline

Labrys Flag (1999)

This flag was made by graphic designer Sean Campbell in 1999, published in 2000 in a Palm Springs edition of Gay and Lesbian Times. (citation needed)

The labrys axe was a symbol of feminist power because of its connection to the Amazons, a group of warrior women in Ancient Greece, while the inverted black triangle was a reference to the marking placed upon non-conforming women in Nazi Germany. The violet background is perhaps a reference to the flower. Bunches of violets had been sent between lesbians as a reference to Sappho, one of the earliest recorded wlw's.

This flag has been criticized for its co-option by TERF's (trans-exclusionary radical feminists), and for the fact that it was created by a man, not someone actually part of the community.

The earliest record of it being used online (that I could find) dates back to June 21st, 2012.

Gay Variation

This flag is perhaps the oldest, and thus I could not find a source. However, it has been used nearly as long as the standard gay flag, which came about in 1979.

The Track to the Modern Lesbian Flag

First, we have to start with the bear flag. This flag, created for bears (large and hairy gay men) was created by Craig Byrnes in 1995.

This flag in itself may not be relevant, but the copycats are.

This flag, dubbed the 'cougar pride flag' was created by Fausto Fernós in 2008, uploaded on April 15th. (A cougar is a predatory older woman.)

From this came the lipstick lesbian flag, posted by Natalie McCry on July 28th, 2010.

This flag was meant to represent femmes, since the labrys flag was used primarily by butches.

The flag is no longer used for multiple reasons. Firstly, because it only represents a part of the community, it would never have been a good figurehead. Secondly, because it copied the "cougar" flag and inadvertently labelled lesbians as predators. Finally, McCry posted several racist, transphobic, and biphobic comments. Most of them have been deleted since, but her top post remains, which uses biphobic rhetoric in the very first point.

The version without the kiss was also used. The earliest record I could find comes from a tumblr post by @trans-wife from December 8th, 2013. This flag was popularized around 2016.

People criticized this flag for being a copy, and for having no meaning behind the stripes.

In 2018, a series of polls were held on tumblr (@official-lesbian-flag-blog and @allukazaoldyeck) to find a new flag, and this one, designed by Emily Gwen, @sadlesbeandisaster, came through.

This flag was made on June 6th, 2018, with a five stripe version (seen below) made (the earliest record I could find came from July 5th, 2019) for ease of printing.

The seven original stripes represented:

Dark orange: Gender Non-conformity Light Orange: Community White: Unique relationships to womanhood (especially for non-binary and he/him lesbians) Light Pink: Serenity and Peace Light Purple: Femininity

Emily Gwen has received flack for some aphobic comments she made in the past, but she has thoroughly apologized for all of them. Because her design is in the public domain, she is not getting paid for any commercial production of the flag. If you would like to donate to her, her PayPal is here.

Sapphic Flag

A term derived from Sappho's name, Sapphic is a catch-all for any woman-adjacent person who is attracted to women-adjacent people. This flag, adorned with pink for love, white for relationships, and the violet as another callback to Sappho, was created by @lesbaux-moved on August 14, 2015.

This simplified version was posted by @pride-color-schemes for ease of recreation on June 25, 2017.

Post-Modern Flags

The sunset lesbian flag was not the only redesign to crop up. Here are a few that gained traction.

This flag was created by @apersnicketylemon on May 17th, 2018. Purple represents non-binary and trans lesbians (and once again a callback to the violets), pink represents femmes, grey represents aspec lesbians, and blue represents gender non-conformity and butchness.

This flag, dubbed the aurora flag after the aurora borealis, was created by @roseywlw on October 16th, 2020. The blue represents community/solidarity, the violet diversity in expression/experiences, the pink self-acceptance and pride, the yellow lesbian history, and the mint tolerance/inclusivity.

Butch Flags

There are two major butch flags.

This version was posted by a deactivated tumblr user and reposted by @pride-color-schemes on June 26, 2017.

This more popular version was posted by Mod Q of @butchspace on June 30, 2017.

The red represents passion/sexuality, the dark orange courage, the light orange joy, the white renewal, the beige chivalry, the gold warmth, and the brown honesty.

Posted: August 8th, 2022

#lesbian #flag history #butch #femme

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mkllpz · 1 year

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DECEMBER 2022 (Part 1)

I’ve been very inactive here, but I’m going start posting more frequently again, providing irregular updates on what I’m working on, announcing when new work is available, answering questions, and, once in a while, looking back at almost an entire year of writing comics.

TL;DR: 2022 in review.

Heavy Metal Italy

I’ve been lucky enough to have been published twice in Heavy Metal – “The Tea House” (illustrated by @lemlemur) in issue 302, and “Dafina” (illustrated by @davidaguado142) in issue 312, both contemplative sci-fi. There’s a new Italian edition of Heavy Metal, and the first issue contains both of my stories. First time my work has been translated into Italian!

● “The Tea House”

● “Dafina”

▼ Three panels from “The Tea House” by Lem ▼

▼ Four panels from “Dafina” by David Aguado ▼

▼ Heavy Metal N. 1 (Edizione Italiana) ▼

Pulp Literature

The latest issue of Pulp Literature, issue 36, includes a new story by me and Enrico Orlandi, “Forgive My Delay,” in which a pop star reflects on her career and the friend she left behind on her way to stardom. The next issue will include another one of my stories, “A Cold Place Between the Shores,” illustrated by @ohotnig. Both stories are in color, but they’ll appear in black and white in Pulp Literature. Hopefully they’ll be published in color one day!

● “Forgive My Delay”

● “A Cold Place Between the Shores”

▼ A panel from “Forgive My Delay” by Enrico Orlandi ▼

Peow (2012-2022)

When @peowstudio announced that they were going to stop publishing books, I think the plan was to publish the last book at the very beginning of 2022. Instead, the last book was published just a month ago – Shang Zhang’s wonderful Last Chance to Find Duke (sold out but still available as a digital edition). After working as an assistant editor for Peow since 2018 (most notably on Dark Angels of Darkness and Aeon 6), Last Chance… was my first book as editor. It’s been extremely satisfying editing books for Peow, and I’d love to continue editing books in the future.

I also convinced Peow that there had to be digital editions of all their books and that I should be the “digital division editor.” I had no idea how much work it would require. My goal was to make every Peow book ever published available as a digital edition, and although I was unable to accomplish that, I still think the collection of digital editions over at Peow’s digital bookshop is impressive. While Peow’s online bookshop will close at the end of the year, the digital bookshop will remain open for a while longer.

(To view the complete Peow catalogue, download the Peow 3D Visual Archive.)

I wouldn’t be writing comics without Peow. They published the first comic I ever wrote, ”The Man with All the Answers” (illustrated by @olleforsslof), and my first graphic novel, Berzerkid (illustrated by @gaxix), which is still available to buy as a print edition and as a digital edition.

Thank you for everything, Peow!

● Berzerkid

▼ The cover of Last Chance to Find Duke by Shang Zhang ▼

Part 2

#comics #heavy metal #heavy metal magazine #pulp literature #peow #science fiction #sci-fi #scifi #entomology

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icefrozendeadlyqueen · 1 year

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Enforcers | Reader-Insert

Warning: being held against one will. Syringes.

Summary: They manage to catch an unbelivable job. They didnt read the small print.

a/n: Sorry for the many mistake. I wrote it on mobile! Hope you enjoy! Setting an introduction.

eye color = (e/c)

your name = (y/n)

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

3 years ago…

When (y/n) open the door, they saw a group of girls, who looked very likely around their age. One girl sat on a chair headset on ignoring her surroundings. She was shorter than the rest, with luscious and long, silver blonde hair, and violet eyes.

One sat on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands shaking nonstop. She has shoulder length, brown hair, and eyes (y/n) tries not to stare at her for too long. It’s the polite thing to do at this point.

The last girl rushed to the door, stopping right in front of them. She has silky waist long hair, and brown eyes, (y/n) jumped back stumbling into something behind them.

(y/n) breaths their face turn back, their heart ring uncontrollably expecting the worst, another girl stood frozen brown eyes locking instantly with theirs. She didn't move; she didn’t seem to breathe either. She has thick brunette hair as black as an enforcers soul or so the rumors say.

"She is the last one, x". The girl behind x loudly calls out clapping her hands in some sort of amusement.

(y/n) stands away from x turning fully to see the other girl. Shoulder length black hair with brown eyes, piercing like a medieval sword, felt her looking into their soul.

"(y/n)". They muttered.

"Taletha. Stop. You will scare the newcomer". x grumbled, majorly annoyed by the tone of her voice. X extends her hands past them, a plastic bag on her hands held merely by one finger, the girl behind (y/n) grabbed it muttering a simple thanks.

"Refreshments are here! Ava catch!".

x grabs them by their shoulders turning them around. The room that hardly held anything but two chairs and a coffee table. The girl with the thin bag, its a miracle it held anything, throws a refreshment to the girl on the floor. A simple, "thanks". Escapes Ava after catching it. She opens her drink not caring about anyone else around.

(y/n) gets pushed forward by the girls behind them. They take another step, they are all wearing the same white gown, they seem to be forced to wear. Except, 3 people.

"lluthra. Headset girl all black gown". x points back to the girl at the back seat. She glances up to acknowledge their back, violet eyes look into her soul, momentarily looking back away. Her refreshments held by her by an invisible force, "what... the... fck...", (y/n) whispers, their eyes most be picking on them right now.

"Redamancy in the middle. She obviously is our personal chaotic witch", x proclaims her fingers guide their face to stare at the long blonde girl. Her feet are crossed above the floor far beyond what any human can do. A scream tries to escape them, no sound comes out. Some red energy her hands like birds flapping their wings like gravity doesn’t exist.

The other girls were not scared by her, neither seemed nervous or even frightened. They seem happy to have been given the opportunity of such inhumanity.

"You missed the sixth round. We were supposed to receive our powers together". x blurts slightly disappointed. They turn their (e/c) clashes with brown eyes for some type of understanding.

"You will understand in a little bit". Her arms lock around her throat and rib cage. (y/n) screams trashing to escape to no vail.

"This will only hurt a bit". Taletha blurts, they felt a sting on their right arm. A syringe on her hand some purple liquid it held. They trash more screaming, swinging their legs and arms to be let go. X hold only tighten as their body lose all consciousness slowly like each part decided now to shut down.

"This is initiation rookie". (y/n) black out after that no longer able to remember much. What the hell did they sign up for? This wasn’t in the job description.

#Enforcers #reader insert #fanfiction #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #lost boys

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pastelphantasia · 10 months

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my religii: past*L

goals of my empyyr [[[past*L]]]:

B00K WUN: UUN!VERSAL PEACE

Zzz. uuniversal peace!!

B00K TWO: L0CHNESS

Zzz. lochness, narwhal, moon dreamers, stacey™ barbie to with lavender eyes, exotykka stacey™ with lavender eyes, kawaii, wynken &blynken &nod, and fantasia everything and revelations of them [my o w n characters and creatures. invented by moi!!] printed on my klothes and just... o n everything, head*to*toe. plus make them alone the new like polka dot and stuff too. the new pattern. cause polka dots and stripes and all those are like some of the world's most repetitively, annoyingly, uunimaginatively worn things. and i just somehow never see lochness and narwhals in haute fashion magazines in patterns on the clothes or even anywhere at all. it's so stupid. and i bought like allll of the mags for the longest time... so stupid.

Zzz. lochness zippers. S. pastel exotica joseph's coat rose zippers where every part's like a different color.

Zzz. joseph's coat rose everything... barely*there yellow rose everything. barely-there green rose everything. succulent plant everything.

Zzz. go overboard with wearing innovative pajamas out of the house and wearing innovative rompers out of the house....

Zzz. have your stuphh custom*made phor uu by a haute couture designer or haute make it on your own.

Zzz. chinese checkers, string figure games, and stiruup pants everything and revelations of them [moi own ideas again] everything!!!

Zzz. black-eyed peas (the food) everything. cranberry sauce everything. honey wheat bread everything.

Zzz. seaphoam green, teal, and coral everything. seaphoamista. tealista. coralista.

Zzz. bring bakk moondreamers.™

Zzz. i'm making stiruup pants my jeans. then if i d o wear jeans they can be stirrup pant jeans. but only if they're really rare. cause the world will never stop with jeans and I don't like it. yikes. and i wanna make stirrup pant: PJ's, panty hose, thigh-highs, onesies\rompers. and striruup pants of all haute innovative kinds kan be to me what like red lipstick is to gwen stefauni and what jeans are to the boring, boring w o r l d . gwen:redlipstick=me:stiruuppants.

Zzz. ZER0 pockets or peaking pockets or triangular pockets as often as everyone wears plain, same*old pockets… especially on stirrup pants!!

Zzz. stirrup shirts. where stirrups can just go around her hands. or something' like it.

Zzz. lima bean, penne, and water chestnut everything.

Zzz. a lot of barely-there-yellow sprinkled with red, purple, and green... like vegan macaroni salad.

Zzz. blossom print's like one of the only normal prints i wanna keep.

Zzz. white*chocolate*white everything.

Zzz. female lochness and narwhal exotykka chinese checkers board games... eye want to sell them with my fashion lines!!!

Zzz. make string figure game fishnet panty hose in exotykka dusk colors . . .

Zzz. lochness and narwhal *sequined lipgloss!!

Zzz. lochness monster, narwhal, and\or centaurette *sequined, thiKk, exotica pastel false lashes are my black mascara.

Zzz. universal peaceagain. eye*m peaceable. yayy.

Zzz. i'm a people*person and a peacemaker.

Zzz. dye narwhals and lochness into your hair.

B00K THREE: P H A U N *

Zzz. phaun (gwen stephauni) + gog (lady gaga) + catra\shear

Zzz. make your own symbol like Vivienne westwood's 0rb out of like string figure games and the chinese checkers board star and lochness and narwhals or somethin'.

Zzz. dye haire platinum blonde sometimes but:

💛 o n l y as a k a n v a s .

Zzz. try platinum blonde with: a teal underside and a seaphoam green shell pattern on top… z. i want barely*there*yellow square patches on the underside in with the top layer dyed australian shepherd puppii print (all patchy) in pastel dusk colors. i want square dyed patches of different pastel colors: lavender, barely there yello, lilac, periwinkL, and nevereth pink (joseph's coat rose plus lilac!!!) australian shepherd patches of different colors like pastel joseph's coat rose colors… magenta and barely-there yellow giraffe print dyed into it with a lavender underside. etk la la la la la la la.™

youtube

...your name will never change...

Zzz. gwen mix and don't match barbie™ infinitii. no one will ever not match. i'd rather friggin like lochness c l a s h . but only iff it's lochness clashing...

Zzz. make the string figure game shapes and the chinese checkers star shape into patterns too.

Zzz. phorm band: the lola's coat roses of past*L.

Zzz. my\our discography rough drafted:

Zzz. go on werld tour.

Zzz. travel werld.

Zzz. ssey(see) everything!!!

Zzz. go to maya.

Zzz. australia.

Zzz. tokyo.

Zzz. paris.

Zzz. everywhere nice in california.

Zzz. back to the b a n d .

Zzz. frontwoman.

Zzz. stage name: past*L Lochness Lola dusk pearLike.

Zzz. past*L= i am so past hell. like, hell's wrong. no one should have ever gone. no one should die. ever. it doesn't defend anyone. 🏵🌺☀🎈

Zzz. to symbolize salvation& peace between heaven, the earth, and hell: devil and demon gone fairytale - {{asymmetrical} (long then short) flouffy pastel exotykka horns [like john galliano's for dior {above and\\ bel0} and red or orange or yellow tiger-striped wuns). devil gone storybook. ({short} flouffy pouffy demon horns in violet, ruby, marigold and emerald). devil gone nursery rhyme (wynken, blynken, nod in partik). demonology gone enchantress (princess hats used as horns). demonology gone fantasia (magenta, yell0 and lavender flouffy, fluffy horns for tails. innovatyvv fashionyysta.) all like the j.g. haute horns in the above and below pictures.

Zzz. make lochness and narwhal chinese checkers and string figure games and sell them with yer fash line...

Zzz. obsessively clean out vivienne westwood!!! have her 0rb everywhere!!!!

Zzz. serendipity should be a more popular phorm of phate than it is.

Zzz. e p h e r v e s c ! k a everything!!! [see lipstick and lipgloss bel0.]

Zzz. be rich and famous like p h a u n * (gwen stefani). and ari m. and riri. and gog. put together.

Zzz. 4 mansions in tahiti. 4 mansions in kentucky. 4 mansions in california.

Zzz. wear bindis as often as people wear black maskara, too. er in p l a c e of blakk maskara. and follow and set bindi and bindi*like trends . . . mookaite bindis, mookaite thigh bands, horse of a different color bindis, face paint, stamps

Zzz. form tribes of rare deities to go on oddysseys and voyages with you and write and perform ballads and odes with you. the dreamlike tribe. the pastimesstruck tribe. the dazestruck crew. the dream*struck tribe. the splendrou tribe. etk.

Zzz. form crews. to go on crusades with...

Zzz. come up with oddysseys and voyages to go on… diversify oddyssey. magnetyyzm oddyssey. oddysseys to save the narwhals. 💜 enigma voyage. dynamic voyage. voyage to phind the lochness monster. etk.

Zzz. come up with crusades for you and your crews to go on.

Zzz. name your daughter(s): tigerlily (lola dusk mcgregor), pearadis (leila mcgregor), stargazely (lilah mcgregor), sighberia (leelee pearlie mcgregor)... they're like my kingston, zuma, and apollo but with girls. the boys (so far) would be: tigra (lynus joseph mcgregor) and horna (lionel howard mcgregor \"howie"). and I don't have the other two figured out yet.

Zzz. so clearly i want 4 kids: girls, boys, or a mix and they'll be my favorite things!!!!!

Zzz. eye hart lipheii!! 💛💛💛

Zzz. make tiger print as popular as cheetah print. and in white and with pastel exotykka stripes. or pastel exotykka with white stripes. phauxii phaux, of course.

Zzz. mookaite everything while everyone else does amethyst:

[mookaite's the purple, orange, and brown beads and it's said moo-kite! hehe...]

Zzz. i wanna invent an even cuter and a zillion times rarer old english text font than there's ever been.

Zzz. iwanna pioneer!!! like amelia ear(air)heart! yay!! like set trends, be inventive, be the first to duu something as cool and legendary as i kan!

Zzz. asymmetry genius.

an eiffel ((eyeful)) horse of a different color is a(') becoming bluugrass state of mind

Zzz. overdo it on supermodel*y stuphh. and beaudy queen stuphh. glow-getter makeup

Zzz. tribal face paint should be the new eyeshad0w. [like v.w.'s - vivienne westwood's bel0w on a model]

Zzz. learn to speak japanese.

Zzz. dye japanese symbols in your hair in phunn colors like pepperoncini color or blueberry tart nyx lipstick color as often as people have their hair au naturale or dyed natural colors . . . like: 虎 (tiger.) and just anything else i might want it to say.

Zzz. mongolian, moroccan, tibetan, czechoslovakian, albanian, aboriginal, lebanese, and turkish fashion made exotykka haute stacey™™™ barbie™ fashionista haute!!

[to be continued...]

#Youtube

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flowers-and-fichte · 1 year

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FOUR - MAGDA

A/N: We meet a new character! I hope you enjoy her. By the way, Sophie's faceclaim is Hayley Atwell.

Warnings: as per usual, not a whole lot here

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I whip my head around at the sound of the woman's voice and pull away to examine her. She is middle-aged, probably in her thirties, with a somewhat square face, high cheekbones, dark eyes, and brown hair. She is wearing a blue overcoat, a pair of black velvet gloves, and blue heels. A white scarf is tied snugly around her neck. She appears to be in a hurry.

"You want us to..." I begin, but she interrupts me.

"Come with me, yes. We must get you out of here." Without a warning, she grabs my wrist and yanks me towards her as she hastily marches through the streets with me and Sergei in tow. I don't even ask for her name, focusing instead on the people around us, watching as this complete stranger pulled us past them.

I eventually gain control over where I am going and let go of her hand to walk beside her, but it's nearly impossible because she's nearly running. I eventually catch up with her and whisper, "Who are you?"

She turns her head and answers quickly, "Sophie. Sophie Schmitz. But you must not make it clear that I am not related to you, yes?"

"What am I supposed to say-" I begin, but Frau Schmitz cuts me off.

"Just say that you are my children."

"Your children? But we don't look anything ali-"

"You are henceforth my children when we are in public, got it?" Her harsh tone combined with her thick German accent intimidate me slightly.

I swallow. "Okay."

"Gut."

We weave through the crowd until we arrive at a well-kept, tan brick house next to a bakery, which in turn is sandwiched between this house and a slightly taller apartment. Frau Schmitz unlocks the rust-colored door and leads Sergei and me in before closing the door and announcing, "This will be your new home from now on until the war is over. Any questions?"

Sergei and I shake our heads. We all take off our shoes before setting foot on the hardwood floor, which creaks under our weight. In front of the door is a wooden table with a porcelain vase containing an assortment of wildflowers, and on the wall, which is painted a brick red color, is a golden-framed painting of a rather heavenly setting, filled with cherubs and a bright sky. I don't take the time to examine the work, but I can tell that it was painted by a very experienced individual.

Frau Schmitz beckons us into the living room, which is quite large, with an enormous window taking up most of the left wall. This room is mustard-colored, with a long emerald green couch pressed up against the wall with the window, and a wooden table shaped like an oval on the floor beneath a white rug. A potted plant rests on the table, along with a stack of books. A sofa the same color as the couch, with a flower-print blanket draped over the top cushion is adjacent to the couch, and a tall wooden bookshelf is against the opposite wall. There is a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a large record player sits on a wooden table beside the sofa. I marvel at the sight, not having seen such a grand place since my family and I were deported to Dachau. The setup of this room reminds me of how our neighbors, the Joswiaks, who were very wealthy, had every room in their home decorated like this.

Frau Schmitz sits on the couch by the window, and Sergei and I join her. She explains, "Do not be afraid. I despise Hitler. All of his flags, his yelling, his big parades, his speeches, everything. It's nothing but garbage to me. That is why I devote my life to protecting people like you."

Before I ask her what she means by "protecting people like you" (with "you" referring to Sergei and myself), she gets up and gently taps part of the wall, which has a slight opening as though there is a secret door there. The wall opens up, and two children and a woman come out. My eyes widen at the sight. This woman had brought us here because she's hiding people in her house. People like us.

Frau Schmitz turns to face us. "There are more, don't worry." She lets out a chuckle. "I hope you don't mind sharing a home with them."

"We're going to hide in the wall?" Sergei asks nervously. Frau Schmitz shakes her head, smiling.

"No. Of course not."

"But those people are in the walls."

"That is because they want to hide there. I didn't make them. I gave them a choice."

"Where can we stay?" I ask.

"Well..." She ponders for a moment. "I have room in the attic. You can stay there, no?"

"Sure," I answer. "Is that all right, Sergei?"

The boy nods and replies, "Okay."

I look at the woman in front of me. "Thank you very much, Frau Schmitz."

"Bitte. And please, call me Sophie."

"Right. Sophie. Of course."

And with that, Sophie leads us out of the living room.

#historical fiction #part 5 #novalis writes

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faber76dyhr · 2 years

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 41: A Hill To Die On

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 6 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing ❧ Word Count: 5.4k

❧ In This Chapter: You and Daryl have been enjoying married bliss, but an end to your honeymoon marks the beginning of a relationship with another settlement, which has some problems of their own.

❧ A/N: The world just got a whole lot bigger! The Hilltop, the Saviors, all that jazz... very exciting stuff. Also Daryl is so gosh darn cute in this episode, I had to gif the part where he says, "We want food, medicine, and one of them cows." I'll be a cow for you Daryl if that's what it takes.

It’d been a week since you and Daryl were married.

You wouldn’t consider it a honeymoon per se, but Aaron did insist upon a week’s break from recruiting missions so Daryl could spend time with you, and Bev covered your three classes of that week to do the same.

So, the two of you spent most of the time enjoying each other’s company in your home. It almost felt like things were… normal. No undead monsters trying to take a bite out of you every chance they got, no constant worrying about whether or not you would live to see the next day… well, that is, until you and Daryl went out on a run.

You had been talking a lot about going out to get things for your house. It had all the essentials in it in terms of furniture, but it was sparse in decoration, which you always felt was vital to making a home totally one’s own.

So, in the middle of the week, the two of you took a big pick-up truck to wrangle up some bits and bobs, and some more practical things for the community, as well.

You made it a point to hit up the nearby antique shop. Unsurprisingly, it was essentially untouched. No one had thought to raid a store full of useless old knick knacks, and you were thankful for that, because that was exactly the kind of thing you wanted in your home.

Daryl didn’t care much about what you put in the house, though he did throw a few tiny vintage motorcycle models into his pack, and some other trinkets he thought would look nice.

You, on the other hand, all but cleaned out the place. You found dozens of teacups and tea sets to take home and begin your collection. You used to have a cabinet full of them in your apartment, and you thought it was the perfect time to start collecting again.

Perhaps the most exciting finds were all the artworks you loaded into the truck. You found a few Alphonse Mucha prints that were in mint condition (and you would have never been able to afford them back in the day), some prints by Waterhouse, and several other works by various artists and of different styles and eras. You were particularly partial to the art nouveau and pre-Raphaelite works, but they were all beautiful and would make those plain white walls so much more colorful.

When you finished loading up the paintings, Daryl called you over to look at the giant stash of vinyl records he had found. You looked through them for a while, but ended up taking all of them since it wasn’t like you had a budget. Now that you had a means of playing them, you could play anything you wanted. From what you saw, there was a selection of classical and jazz, as well as several rock records—you were partial to the old Roxy Music and Tim Buckley records, and Daryl made a point to grab anything by Black Sabbath and Motörhead. An eclectic assortment, to be sure.

By the time you finished at the antique shop and the nearby stores, the bed of the truck was stuffed to the brim with odds and ends, including books (and more books), furniture for your study, bike parts (for Daryl), clothes (most of which were yours), and assorted “junk” you wanted to fill your house with. Indeed, it took several trips to get everything back to Alexandria, including the supplies you picked up for the community and the objects for your students you found at a nearby elementary school.

When the sun began to go down, you’d delivered everything.

Now, three days later, everything was in its right place. Your home was finally feeling like your own, and Daryl didn’t seem to mind it either. You often found him looking at the various pieces of art he helped you hang on the walls, or at the books you adorned the built-in bookshelves in the living room with.

“You like it?” you asked as you snuck up from behind him, his eyes locked on the painting of a mermaid combing her hair.

He looked at you, then back at the painting. “Guess so,” he said. “Why did you want a… mermaid in our house anyway?”

You laughed, then shrugged as you admired the beauty of the girl in the painting. “I don’t know, I just like it. I like mermaids, and things like that. It’s by John William Waterhouse. He’s one of my favorites.”

“He paint a lot of girls?”

You nodded. “He did, as did a lot of the pre-Raphaelites. A lot of them had muses, usually their wives… or other men’s wives.”

He scoffed. “Figures… art types.”

You maneuvered yourself in front of him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “What, you don’t consider yourself an artiste?” You added a flair to the French word.

He rested his hands on your hips before giving you a peck on the lips. “Nah,” he said. “Could never paint nothin’ remotely as pretty as you.”

You rolled your eyes, then broke into a big smile you couldn’t hide any longer. “Oh, Daryl…”

He smirked at you before leaning in to press his lips to yours, and rapidly pulling your legs up to wrap around his waist. You giggled into his mouth as he laid you down onto the couch and began leaving sloppy kisses all over your face.

“Daryl!” you cried, giggling all the while. He reached down under your dress and felt around for your underwear to pull it off, but you quickly stopped his hand. “I have class in twenty minutes.”

Daryl looked down at you and sighed. “Can’t ya have Bev cover for you?”

You laughed. “She’s already been doing that for the past week, and having her own classes. I can’t do that to her.”

Daryl dropped his head onto your shoulder, and you cradled it lovingly as you brushed through his hair. “Honeymoon’s over, ain’t it?”

You smiled. “Not necessarily. It doesn’t ever have to be over.”

“Mmm,” Daryl agreed, the reverberation of his chest filling you with warmth. “I love you.”

He’d been saying that so often for the past week. There was a time when he’d only say it when saying goodbye to you or just when he felt particularly affectionate, but now it was just something he said when he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I love you, too, cutie pie,” you cooed. “But…” You began to sit yourself up, and Daryl reluctantly took his weight off you so you could do so. “The next generation is in my hands,” you said dramatically, “and duty calls.”

You were actually dreading going to class for the first time since the attack from the Wolves and the walkers. Sam, and his mother, Jessie, had died during the invasion. You didn’t know Jessie well, but you knew Sam was a good kid, and one of the more enthusiastic students in your class.

Still, you were eager to see how the other students were doing since you had last seen them.

To your surprise, all of them greeted you with a smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Dixon,” each student said to you as they walked into the garage-turned-classroom.

Bev must’ve put them up to that. There was no other way they would know to call you by your new title.

Even Seth, the troublemaker, seemed happy to see you. Perhaps something changed that day the Wolves attacked. Maybe that instilled a new respect for you. At least, that was what you hoped.

The day went by relatively smoothly. Several students gave their presentations on the books you assigned each of them about a while back, and they all seemed to have a good understanding of the stories.

You were even able to implement the new subject you had been planning for them: self-defense and walker-ology, as you termed it (until you could come up with a better name). It added another hour to the school day, but you felt it vital that the children understand how to defend themselves and how to deal with walkers.

The subject didn’t just instruct them on killing walkers, but also understanding what they were and how they became like that, as well as the grim reality that everyone would become a walker once they died, unless their brain was destroyed before turning.

It was a difficult thing to talk about, especially since some of the students had seen their parents get torn apart by walkers, but you handled the conversation with sensitivity and understanding.

A few weeks passed from that point without incident. The walls had been expanded to include a church and several houses that had previously been cut off by the walls, Carl was progressively healing from losing his eye, and Daryl and Aaron went on frequent day trips to find newcomers.

Though you missed the both of them when they were gone, you found solace in bonding with Eric and helping Maggie plant seeds in the plot that was to be a garden for crops.

Carol kept you busy, too, by inviting you over to bake and cook for the other Alexandrians. Through this, you became friends with several people you didn’t know very well before. One kind elderly man even whittled a wooden sign for you and Daryl as a belated wedding present—The DIXON’s it read.

You were so touched you almost cried, then immediately nailed it to your front picket fence.

Things seemed to be looking up, until Daryl and Rick left one day on a run.

It started out like any other day—you packed Daryl a lunch to take with him, and threw in a few of Rick’s favorite candy bars as well (with the intent that Daryl would share, though he liked the candy bars, too). You doted on him the whole morning in preparation for him to be gone at least a day.

“You’re going to be safe, right?” you asked as you stuffed a few more things into the pack on Daryl’s back, the two of you walking down the street all the while. Daryl only grunted in response as he was fixated on reading the “shopping list” of supplies Denise had given him earlier.

“Daryl?” you asked again, this time giving his ass a squeeze.

He jumped a bit in response and turned to look at you with a mock glare. “I heard ya,” he said before looking around to make sure no one saw you grope him.

You smiled as you walked around him and stopped him in his tracks to fix his hair. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you said before cupping his face and kissing him sweetly on the lips.

Suddenly, Rick walked past the two of you and slapped Daryl on the shoulder, breaking your kiss abruptly. “Ready to go, Casanova?” Rick asked with a smirk.

Daryl grunted, trying his hardest to look tough with his pink, heated cheeks betraying him. He swallowed hard. “Gotta go,” he said.

Rick threw his pack in the trunk of the car. “Don’t worry, (Y/N),” Rick said to you. “I’ll take care of him.”

You smiled before turning back to Daryl and kissing him on the cheek, though not without his grumbling.

“Should be back ‘fore the end of the day,” he said. “If not, don’t worry.”

You nodded, your face turning serious. You hated when he left, it always made you nervous, and you could never sleep knowing he was gone. “I love you, sweetheart,” you said, holding his hands in yours. “Come back to me. I can’t be without my Daryl for too long, you know.”

You went to bed that night with still no Daryl, but you heard your front door open not long after that.

Running down the stairs, you threw yourself into his arms, to which he huffed in surprise. “Why aren’t ya in bed?” he asked.

You closed your eyes as you swayed in his strong arms, holding you so tight. “I was in bed,” you said. “I couldn’t sleep. Was waiting for you.”

He rested his chin on your shoulder. “Well, I’m back.”

You pulled away to look at him, your hands resting on his shoulders and massaging them. “How’d it go? You bring back any food?”

Daryl lowered his head as if in defeat. “Nah,” he said. “Ran into some trouble.”

Your eyes widened. “What happened?” you asked with concern. You looked all over his body to make sure he was okay. “Are you all right?” You noticed he looked like he had been rolling around in the dirt.

“‘M fine,” he said. “This guy… he jumped us. More than once. Didn’t wanna bring him back, but Rick did.”

“Is—is he here?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, tied up and knocked out in the same place we kept Morgan. Don’t want ya goin’ anywhere near him. He’s dangerous.”

You sighed. “Well, Rick obviously thought there was some reason to bring him here.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, bad decision.” Daryl began taking off his muddy boots and hung his vest on the coat rack. “Don’t trust no one who calls himself Jesus.”

“Jesus?” you repeated.

“Mhm,” he mumbled as he bit thumbnail. He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge to begin chugging down water from the pitcher.

You leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms as you watched the clear liquid drip down his chin and wet his plaid shirt. When he finished, he grunted and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” he asked when he caught you staring at him.

“Nothing,” you said as you tried to keep a straight face. “You’re just so cute, that’s all.”

He stretched his arms over his head and yawned, something he rarely did. You knew he must’ve been really tired, then. You walked over to him and rubbed your hands up and down his chest, the fabric still soaked from the water.

“Let’s get you to bed,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want me takin’ a shower first?”

It was true—usually you made him take a shower before getting into bed when he went out. “You get one free pass tonight.”

You felt bad about his less than successful run with Rick, and you knew he must’ve been tired. “Fine by me,” he said.

He tore off all his clothes before getting into bed, then allowed you to cuddle into him as always. He fell asleep not long after that, and you stayed awake awhile just to look at his peaceful face in the moonlight cascading through the window.

That, and you loved his little snores and twitches.

Suddenly, a frantic knocking on your door alerted you before you were about to doze off yourself. You sat up quickly, and Daryl was already back on his feet and grabbing his knife from the side table.

He threw his clothes on at lightning speed, and you tossed on your silk robe that matched your nightgown (you wouldn’t be caught dead in unmatching sleepwear, after all).

When you opened the door to a rather shocked looking Glenn and Maggie, you were told that the new detainee, Jesus, had escaped from his confinement.

Daryl bolted out the door, grabbing his gun and his vest. Despite his insistence that you stay home, you followed him with your own gun.

He was in Rick’s house, and by the time the four of you got there, Carl already had a gun pointed at his head. Nevertheless, you, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham all had your guns on him, too. If he made even the slightest move, he’d have six bullet holes in him.

Jesus, a man whose nickname aptly matched his outward appearance, had come to Rick’s house to talk.

When he did talk, he told you all about his own settlement where they grow crops and livestock. He said that he took the truck full of food Daryl and Rick scavenged because his people needed it, and he thought Daryl and Rick looked like trouble.

You were skeptical at first, but if his community really did have crops and livestock, your community could trade. He mentioned they needed guns, and Alexandria had them in spades.

So, that next morning you all saddled up in the same RV you came to Alexandria in. You were happy to finally be involved in something not pertaining to inside-the-walls business. Plus, you could keep an eye on Daryl and make sure he didn’t do anything reckless, as he was wont to do.

Though for most of the ride, you kept your eyes on Maggie’s belly. You were the first one she told that she was pregnant a week ago, aside from Glenn who knew for about a month now.

She wasn’t showing yet, but you were so happy for her and Glenn, and excited to welcome a new addition into the group. It got you thinking a lot about the baby you wanted to have with Daryl at some point in the future.

You weren’t getting any younger, and neither was Daryl. You decided you were ready to have a baby, but you hadn’t told Daryl yet. He still seemed to be stressing about keeping Alexandria safe and fed, so you wanted to wait until this negotiation was over and settled.

Glenn’s hand resting on Maggie’s belly wasn’t the only thing you noticed on that ride; Rick and Michonne were holding hands in the front seat.

It was a very new development, one you didn’t see coming at all. Michonne was sort of Rick’s right hand, after Daryl, but you were surprised to see Michonne and Rick coming out of the same bedroom and half-dressed the night before.

Still, you were happy for them. They seemed good together, and you always liked Michonne. She was family, and so was Rick.

When you finally made it to Jesus’ community, the Hilltop, you were surprised to see it was quite different from yours. The only real building they had was a big old historical home, called Barrington House. The leader, Gregory, lived there. The others apparently lived in trailers outside of the house.

What really mattered, though, was their livestock and their produce. As Jesus led you all in, with your guns in tow, you saw chickens, cows, and plenty of crops. They also had a forge for blacksmithing. It was nowhere near as picture-perfect as the suburban landscape of Alexandria, but it was a home to several people, and you respected that.

When Jesus led you all into the house, you were greatly impressed by the historical preservation of the place. It was kept up nicely, and you were nearly in a trance as you looked around the beautiful home, until a door opened and an older man popped out.

“Jesus,” he said. “You’re back.” He looked around at all of you. “With guests.”

Daryl stood a little closer to you with the presence of the new man. “Everyone, this is Gregory,” Jesus said. “He keeps the trains running on time around here.”

“I’m the boss,” Gregory confirmed with a smug smile and a wide gesture of his hands.

You already didn’t like him. Rick would never refer to himself as “the boss.” Maybe “the leader,” but certainly not something so presumptuous as a boss.

Rick began to introduce himself. “Well, I’m Rick. We have a community—”

“Why don’t you all get cleaned up,” Gregory interrupted him.

You swore you heard Daryl growl, and you weren’t far off from doing the same as you narrowed your eyes at him and exchanged a look with Michonne from across the room.

“We’re fine,” Rick said, he, too, irritated by Gregory’s insistence.

“Jesus will show you where you can get washed up,” Gregory said. “Then come back down here when you’re ready.” He walked up to Rick. “It’s hard to keep this place clean.”

“Yeah,” Rick said, biting his tongue as much as possible. “Sure.”

Despite everyone’s impatience to get to negotiating with Gregory and the Hilltop, you all cleaned up as he insisted. When everyone finished, you were the last one to clean up.

Daryl stood in the foyer of the house waiting for you, and Abraham was there with him. “How long do you think Rick and Michonne been ugging bumplies?” Abraham asked Daryl as he paced impatiently.

Daryl shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. And he didn’t care much. As far as Daryl was concerned, other people’s relationships were none of his business. He knew he didn’t like others prying into his and your relationship, so he gave everyone else the same courtesy.

Abraham stood up from the chair he was seated in. “And then there’s Maggie,” he said, shaking his head. “Got a bun in the oven. Still can’t believe that. You gotta have some balls on ya to bring a kid into this shit show.”

Daryl looked down and kicked at the edge of the elaborate rug. “Don’t care. Not my problem.”

Abraham looked at him seriously. “You ever think about it… having a kid, settling down?”

Daryl largely ignored the question. He did, in fact, think about having a child since the two of you had talked about it back at the prison, and even more so since you told him you definitely wanted to have a child with him. So, yes, he did think about it. A lot.

Now that Maggie was pregnant, he knew you would want a baby soon, too. When you and him were on your most recent run together, he caught you looking at baby clothes and holding them up to admire them with a longing smile on your face.

When he first really thought about having a baby with you, he thought he was indifferent to the idea of being a father. He didn’t really care either way, he would just try to be the best father he could be, though he never had a good father figure in his life.

Soon, though, he found that he thought about having a baby with you a lot more, and that the idea of being a father was actually quite exciting. He was intent on spoiling whatever kid the two of you brought into the world as much as he could, in all the ways that his own father couldn’t spoil him. Above all, he wanted to raise a good person.

“You think shit’s settled?”

Shit was, in fact, very, very far from being settled.

After Maggie had a rather uneventful talk with Gregory in which they failed to reach a negotiation, a man bursted in through the front door.

“What’s wrong?” Gregory asked him.

“They’re back,” the man panted.

You all followed Gregory and Jesus out the front door to approach three more people, two men and a woman, who had just come through the gates. “Ethan,” Gregory called to the foremost man, “what happened to everybody else? Where’s Tim and Marsha?”

“They’re dead,” Ethan said matter-of-factly.

“Negan?” Gregory asked.

You and Daryl looked at each other, the name ringing an ominous bell. That was the name of the supposed leader of the men on the motorcycles, the ones Daryl roasted on an open fire.

“Yeah,” Ethan confirmed.

“We had a deal,” Gregory insisted.

“He said it wasn’t enough,” the other man said. “Was the drop light?”

You remembered that Negan’s men that Daryl had run into demanded he hand over his weapons and other things. They must have done this with other people, too—stolen from them. Here, however, it seemed more organized, like the Hilltop had a deal with him. In any case, it was stealing.

“No,” Gregory responded.

“They still have Craig,” the woman said.

“They said they’d keep him alive,” Ethan said, “return him to us… if I delivered a message to you.”

Ethan stepped closer to Gregory.

“So, tell me,” Gregory said.

Ethan rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You were definitely not expecting him to stab Gregory.

When he did, though, a fight ensued. Rick had to restrain Ethan, and he ended up killing him.

Abraham was almost strangled to death by the other man, but Daryl twisted his arm before he could.

Suffice it to say that things were off to a rocky start. The other citizens of the Hilltop looked at Rick in fear when he stood before them covered in Ethan’s blood, but you and your group knew better—he had attempted to kill Gregory, and Rick. He was dangerous, and that was how you handled dangerous people in this world.

Back in the house, the Hilltop’s doctor, Dr. Carson, was able to fix up Gregory. Now, you all wanted an explanation.

“We heard the name Negan,” Rick said to Jesus as you all met in Gregory’s office. “A while back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?”

“Negan’s the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors,” Jesus said.

Ironic, you thought. They don’t seem like they’re saving anybody but themselves.

“As soon as the walls were built,” Jesus continued, “the Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us—Rory. He was sixteen years old. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand right off the bat. Gregory’s not exactly good at confrontation. He’s not the leader I would have chosen, but he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him.”

“He made the deal,” Maggie said.

“Half of everything,” Jesus confirmed. “Our supplies, our crops, our livestock… it goes to the Saviors.”

“And what do you get in return?” Glenn asked.

“They don’t attack this place,” Jesus answered. “They don’t kill us.”

“Why not just kill them?” asked Daryl.

“Most of the people here don’t even know how to fight,” Jesus said, “even if we had ammo.”

“Well, how many people does Negan have?” Rick asked.

“We don’t know,” answered Jesus. “We’ve seen groups as big as twenty.”

“Now, hold up,” Daryl said. “So, they show up, they kill a kid and you give ‘em half of everything?” Daryl exchanged a look with you. “These dicks just got a good story,” he continued. “The boogeyman, he ain’t shit.”

“Well, how do you know?” Jesus asked.

“A month ago,” Abraham said, “we took his guys out PDQ. Left ‘em in pieces and puddles.”

You looked at Daryl, and he seemed to be getting antsy, as if a whole plan was brewing inside of his head and he was eager to get it out. “You know,” he said, “we’ll do it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“If we go get your man back,” he continued, “kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up?” he asked Jesus pointedly.

You had rarely seen Daryl so determined. It was like a light went off in his head and he couldn’t put it out until this deal was made.

“We want food, medicine, and one of them cows,” he said. Your eyes widened. It was a new side of Daryl, a burst of confidence and leadership welling up in him. He’d been Rick’s right hand for a while now, but he’d never shown this much enthusiasm for a plan. You wondered where it came from.

Rick shrugged when Jesus looked at him for confirmation of Daryl’s eagerness. “Confrontation’s never been something we’ve had trouble with,” he said.

Jesus was silent for a moment. “I’ll take it to Gregory.”

A deal was made. Maggie made it. She was becoming a leader in her own right, and she was good at it, you thought.

The deal was half of their food upfront, and your people would take out the Saviors, and Negan, and bring back their man, Craig. You thought it was a pretty fair deal.

So, you all loaded up the food and headed back home in the rickety old RV.

Maggie and Glenn had gotten an ultrasound done by Dr. Carson while in Hilltop. He was an obstetrician before the turn, and he happened to have the equipment to perform the procedure.

Glenn passed around the scan, and you beamed at them with joy when it got handed to you from Daryl.

You looked up at him with that same smile, and he appeared dejected, but slightly lifting one corner of his mouth to appease you.

Handing the ultrasound to Abraham, you rested your head on Daryl’s shoulder and slept the rest of the ride home.

When you got back, you sat with him on your porch to watch the sunset. It was one of the things you had started doing almost every night he was home. You already felt like an old married couple, and at least half of that was true.

“You did good today,” you said as you rocked back and forth with him on the porch swing. “You were so cute when you made all those demands,” you laughed a little.

He scoffed and nudged you with his elbow. “Stop,” he muttered. “Gotta eat. Feed everyone.”

You nodded as you wrapped your arm around his. “Yeah, and Maggie’s baby.”

Daryl swallowed hard. You noticed, and looked up to him curiously. “What?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Nothin’.”

You knew when it wasn’t nothing.

“It’s not nothing,” you replied. “Tell me.”

He huffed. “You still want a baby?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if trying to study what his reaction would be. “Yes,” you said honestly. “Yes, I do. A lot… why?”

“Just… we don’t got ‘nough food, and now this thing with Negan, it’s gonna start somethin’.”

You nodded. “Well,” you sighed, “we can wait. Till it’s over.”

“What if it never is over? What if this is it, our lives? Just survivin’, like we were on the road. Ain’t much different, ‘cept we got a house. Still gotta deal with assholes, and people still gotta die. That ain’t good to raise a kid in.”

You cupped his cheek with your hand and made him look at you. “Listen to me,” you said sternly but with a tenderness in your voice you reserved wholly for him, “there’s never going to be a good time to have a baby. There never was, not even before this. It just happens, and it’s all about taking a chance. These days, it’s an even riskier chance, but it’s not much more different than it used to be.”

Still, you wanted to wait if that’s what Daryl wanted.

“I’m ready to have a baby,” you said. “But I’m willing to wait until you’re comfortable with it, because I love you and I respect your decision, and you’re a part of this, too.”

Daryl looked at you lovingly, so thankful to have someone so thoughtful and patient in his life. “You sure?” he asked.

You nodded. “Positive.”

“I just want things to be more… safe,” he said. “For you, and the baby. Can’t lose you. Just can’t.”

You snuggled into his shoulder, taking in his tobacco-tinged scent. You knew he had a pack of cigarettes he tried to keep on the down-low from you, but you let him have his vice, though it was another thing you worried about.

“I can’t lose you either,” you said softly. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I found you.”

He smiled at you while rubbing your thigh up and down, gently wrinkling the soft fabric of your dress. He still couldn’t believe you had worn the thing to the Hilltop. Your ability to do anything in a dress or skirt fascinated him.

“Well, ya did,” he said. “Best decision I ever made was killin’ that walker.”

You laughed. “I could have handled it,” you said, mostly joking. You knew you probably would have died that day if it weren’t for Daryl and his clunky crossbow. “But thanks anyway, Robin Hood.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

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luvdsc · 3 years

Text

august.

Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him.

pairing :: liu yangyang x reader genre :: fluff, angst ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 10,500 words warnings :: none. playlist :: time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ 2 kids (taemin) ⋆ daydreams (exes) ⋆ sharing you (lany) ⋆ august (taylor swift) ⋆ too close to love (will hyde) ⋆ sad stripped (lany) ⋆ strangers (taemin) ⋆ the 1 (taylor swift) author’s note :: can you believe that i literally wrote this entire 10k fic in one day aka today ??? whew this gave me the same rush that i got when i wrote my research paper in the class it was due for the day of, printed it out during break, and handed it in at the end of class :’) ↳ part of the almost collaboration series.

Liu Yangyang is jumping fences to escape late night parties, shared laughter over childhood favorite cartoons on February mornings, midnight dancing in the refrigerator light, and November kisses stolen in between the shelves of the nearby 7-Eleven. He is obscure doodles in the margins of your physics notes, good intentions laced in December’s mistakes, strawberry lemonade and broken truths wrapped in summer bliss, and September endings with honest lies.

He is your August, he is your everything, but he isn’t yours.

AUGUST 2018.

August has barely begun to fade away.

You’re eighteen years old, and you’re drunk off of your first taste of freedom, one toe already dipping into the shiny pleasures of adulthood. Your new roommate, Karina, has excitedly told you about the famous beach night themed frat party that kick starts every school year at your university. Everybody who’s anybody would be there, and your heart already races at the thought of going to your very first college party.

“Coral or blue?” Karina holds up a solid colored neon blue bikini and a striped, bright pink one for you to choose between.

“Blue.” You nod towards the first option, and she discards the other one back into the open drawer. You pull out a marigold yellow one and a black one lined with white strings, wordlessly gesturing towards them, and she immediately points to the latter.

“That one is gonna look so cute on you. Well, both would, but I love that one.”

You grin at her, silently thanking whoever decided to pair the two of you together for the random dorming. “Perfect, thanks. Do you know any of the guys hosting the party?”

“Yeah, Dejun? He’s really sweet and a year above us. I met him in the music elective I’m taking.” She turns to take off her shirt and tosses it to the side, pulling on her bikini and wriggling into a pair of ripped jean shorts. “You?”

“Kind of? Jaemin is in my project group in Intro to Engineering. He’s rushing for that frat.” You quickly change out of your outfit and into your chosen swim top and daisy dukes. You make sure to grab a pair of black flip flops from your closet. The bundle of nerves in your stomach grows as you step out of your dorm with your new friend, a bit anxious but also excited to attend your very first party.

Thank goodness for summer weather. It’s still a nice, warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit according to your weather app when you and Karina finally make your way to the frat house. The sun barely begins to set, but the party slash dayger had started earlier and is in full swing. There’s a DJ set up out front, blasting some sort of EDM music, and the lawn is absolutely covered in foam. You see the source of it shakily set up on the roof of the patio along with a couple of boys sitting up there, Hawaiian shirts barely covering their figures. You catch the eye of Jaemin, who happily waves at you from his vantage point, and you wave back at him.

“Oh my god, I love college,” Karina says, grabbing your arm excitedly as the two of you step into the foam. You reach down to pick up some of it before flicking it towards your roommate, who squeals before scooping some up and throwing it in your direction as well.

“Ready for our first shitty college drink?” You pull her through the mass of other students and towards the horribly decorated tiki bar stationed in the corner of the patio.

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of you stumble over, still throwing handfuls of foam at each other amidst giggles before making a full stop in front of the bar. The older boy behind the makeshift counter lazily grins at you both, a shell necklace hanging loosely around his neck, and his unbuttoned orange Hawaiian shirt gives you a nice flash of his toned abs.

“Hey, I’m Johnny. What can I get for you two?”

“Two vodka shots, please.”

“Alright, ID?”

You freeze, and Karina’s grip on your arm tightens, and then Johnny laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Relax, I’m just messing with you, freshie. Two vodka shots coming right up.”

He pulls out two small plastic cups and pours out the drinks for you. “How many do you want?”

“This is good for now, thanks.” You and Karina pick up the drinks, smiling a little nervously at him. He flashes another amused smile at you. “Alright, come back anytime if you want another.”

You move away from the patio, and Karina follows close behind. The two of you throw back the drinks and dispose of the empty cups quickly. The burning sensation in your throat disappears after a few seconds, and you turn to your roommate. “Should we find our friends?”

“I think I see Dejun back there! Let’s go say hi, I can introduce you to him.” Karina drags you through the rising foam, the bubbles clinging to your skin, and when you go past the DJ stand, you feel the pounding bass reverberating in your chest harder than ever. You trek past the gate and into the backyard where the foam has risen to your waist, thanks to the enclosed fences. She taps on the shoulder of a boy with the prettiest almond eyes you have ever seen, and you shyly smile at him when he greets you.

“Hey, I’m Dejun.”

Oh my god, even his voice sounds pretty. Older college boys are definitely better and hotter than high school boys. Heck, they’re better than freshman boys. Nobody wants to date a freshman dude, not even the freshman girls.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand, but then realize how stupid that must be. You hastily start to retract your hand, but he laughs and warmly grasps your hand. Smiling at you, he shakes it firmly, squeezing your hand gently before letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

The butterflies in your stomach grow in volume as the conversation goes on, and you’re positively enamored by the end of the night. Karina had given you a look earlier before walking off with Dejun’s friend and joining the dancing crowd. With the addition of his phone number in your pocket and a promise to show you a new song he’s working on with his guitar next Friday, you’re walking on cloud nine.

“Do you want something to drink? I need a refill, and I can go grab you one,” he asks, and you’re about to offer to go with him, but then you remember the teasing upperclassman and simply agree, asking for another shot of vodka.

After he disappears, you look around, eyeing the crowd and wondering if you can spot your roommate anywhere. You bump into someone lightly and turn around to apologize. Your eyes meet a pair of curiously bright ones.

“Sorry about that, I’m looking for my roomie.”

The boy gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. He’s wearing one of those dumb Hawaiian shirts, too, and it’s unbuttoned, but he has a white T-shirt layered underneath it. “No biggie, it’s a massive party and it’s crowded. Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, I don’t know if you know her, but Karina? She went off with this dude, Kunhang, I think?”

His eyes light up at that name. “Oh, I know him! I saw him earlier by the keg stands inside. Your friend might be there, too. I can—”

“THE COPS ARE COMING!” A loud voice bellows, and you freeze up. Suddenly, the music is shut off as everyone starts running away. You start to panic, the terror rising in your chest, and the boy in front of you grabs your hand and pulls you with him. “What are you doing?! Don’t just stand there! We gotta go!”

“Wait, but Kar—” You start to object, but cut yourself off when you bump into his back as he abruptly stops. He scans the backyard, quickly assessing the situation before turning to you.

“There’s way too many people trapped in here, we’re not gonna make it to the gate. We need to climb over the fence. I’ll hoist you up, and you can help me up from there.”

“I don’t even know you,” you protest, and he throws you a look.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang, nice to meet you, I don’t want to get my ass hauled out by the police and continue the icebreakers in jail, so let’s move now. We good?”

“Yeah, okay, we’re good,” you say faintly, mind still whirling around as you try to grasp the situation. “I’m Y/N.”

“Great, now up you go.”

He immediately picks you up without any warning, and you almost fall backwards, arms flailing before you grasp the top of the fence and pull yourself up. Balancing precariously on top of it, you grab his arm, tugging him up until he’s sitting right next to you, too. The both of you swing your legs over the fence and jump down to the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, squatting down as you clutch your heart.

“Oh my god, we made it. I didn’t get arrested at my first party.”

“What an amazing accomplishment.” Yangyang brushes off the back of his shorts. “We aren’t going to jail. Freshman year is gonna be a breeze if your bar is set this low.”

“Hey!” You frown at him, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know I’m a freshman?”

“It’s written all over your face.” You give him a look, and he relents. “Only a freshman would be this scared of getting caught.”

“So are you an upperclassman?”

“Nah, this is my first party, too. I’m rushing for Nu Chi. Hold on, wait here.” He sneaks around the edge of the fence, peering around for a few seconds before jogging back towards you. “Okay, the police are over there. I’m gonna have to wait a while before going back in.”

“You have to go back?”

“Part of tonight’s rush process,” he sighs before turning to you. “Do you live on campus?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna walk back now,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s late, and I’m not in a partying mood anymore.”

“I can walk you back,” he offers, and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

The two of you start the trek back, an awkward lull in the conversation making itself known. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly when a soft breeze picks up. There’s a light rustling noise, and you pay no mind to it until a soft cloth is draped over your shoulders. Eyes widening, you notice the colorful, palm tree-printed button down shirt wrapped around you and the boy next to you, looking straight ahead with his hands shoved into his pockets. Smiling to yourself, you slip on the shirt, loosely buttoning the front of it.

“So, Yangyang,” you casually begin, testing his name on your tongue for the first time. You decide you like it. It’s cute. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow, and you continue, “Since our lives are no longer in jeopardy, we can continue the icebreakers, right?”

His lips curve into a smile. “Alright, shoot. What’s your first question?”

“Captain America or Iron Man?”

“Oh, Iron Man, hands down. He’s so…”

You meet him in August.

FEBRUARY 2019.

“Hey, where’s your cereal? The Reese’s one?”

February marks six months of your relationship with Dejun. It also marks six months of your friendship with Yangyang. It is time for your weekly Sunday rituals of watching old cartoons and eating breakfast, and you could’ve sworn that box was still half full last week. You rummage through the top drawer Yangyang had designated for snacks and other foods in his dorm as he takes out the milk from his mini fridge and carries it over to his desk.

“I ran out a few days ago. There’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch somewhere in there though.”

With a victorious cry, you manage to pull out the slightly crushed box of the aforementioned cereal from underneath the packages of flamin’ hot Cheetos and spicy nacho Doritos and triumphantly bring it over to your best friend. He already pulls out two bowls (which were stolen from the dining hall) and hands over the plastic spoons in his grasp (which was also taken from the dining hall).

“Thanks.” After dropping a spoon into each bowl, you shake out the sugary cereal squares before pouring the milk because you’re not an absolute heathen who puts milk in first, like Sicheng. Yangyang clambers up to his top bunk bed, and you carefully pass over the two bowls of cereal, milk sloshing precariously near the edges. You climb up afterwards, and he gives you your bowl once you settle down.

“So, Scooby Doo or Pokémon?”

“Mm, we watched Pokémon last Sunday already, so let’s do Scooby Doo this time.” He nods in agreement, pulling up the cartoon from the queue in Netflix, and the two of you lean back against the ginormous mound of pillows and stuffed animals of his that occupy nearly half of his bed.

You’re shoveling a spoonful of cereal into your mouth when he casually asks, “So how’re you and Dejun doing?”

Choking slightly, you quickly swallow. “We’re doing good. I think he booked a table at the Italian restaurant down the street for Valentine’s Day. Are you doing anything for Valentine’s?”

“I’m forcing Renjun to come watch that “‘Happy Death Day’ movie with me.” The faint sounds of the Scooby Doo theme song plays in the background as you hum in acknowledgement, mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s so sweet. So who confessed to who? Not gonna lie, I thought you had a crush on Hyuck, not Jun.”

“... I would shove you right now, but I just did my laundry, and rewashing my comforter is expensive and I’m out of quarters.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before lifting his bowl up to sip the best part of having Cinnamon Toast Crunch: the milk infused with all the cinnamony, sugary goodness. You let your spoon fall back into your bowl with a soft clink, a sudden worrying thought popping into your head.

“I bought him some customized guitar picks and a pretty composition book. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“That’s a pretty basic gift, isn’t it? It feels like something Kun would get him,” he teases, but his heart falls when he notices you chewing on your bottom lip, spoon held limply in your hand.

“Hey, I’m just joking, of course he would like it. He’s completely whipped. He’ll love anything from you.” Yangyang’s voice grows softer, and he fiddles with a stray thread on his comforter, avoiding eye contact with you. “I know I would.”

He looks up slightly and sees you smiling gratefully at him, eyes shining bright. He quickly ducks his head, turning away slightly to hide the hues of pink blooming on his cheeks. He feels you leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Thanks, Yang.”

Replaying the sight of your smile in his mind makes his stomach flip flop, and he resists the overwhelming urge to tell you you’re pretty, pushing it back into the farthest crevice of his mind. Your head on his shoulder makes him feel like he’s carrying the entire world, and he doesn’t know what to do. He paints on a tight smile of his own, silently hoping you can’t hear the way his heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

Yangyang knows that having feelings for his best friend, specifically one of his good friends’ girlfriends, is something he absolutely should not be doing, but he can’t help it. His stupid heart refuses to listen to his brain. For now, all he can do is desperately hope that this dumb crush of his goes away soon because while 99% of his friends are oblivious (including you), Ten and Donghyuck are not. They’ll be able to spot his feelings from a mile away, like how Kun always knows when there’s a good sale going on at the Asian supermarket downtown (This week, it was the 50% off bean sprouts and chili paste).

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Yangyang carefully rests his head on top of yours. Clutching the empty bowl with one hand, he shoves his other one under his thigh to stop himself from reaching over and tangling his fingers with yours. He stares at the screen, watching until the bright colors blur together.

“Anytime.”

He likes you in February.

AUGUST 2019.

The earth spins around the sun for another time, and August makes its presence known once again. It’s Thursday night, and you’re sitting on the countertop in Nu Chi Theta’s kitchen, swinging your legs back and forth as Yangyang struggles to make some scrambled eggs because the half filled carton of eggs the two of you managed to find is the only thing that isn’t expired (besides Jeno’s protein shakes, but neither of you are gonna touch that cardboard tasting monstrosity).

“Maybe I should make it.” You peer over at the frying pan, wincing when you see the full damage of your future meal. “Did you use oil?”

“Of course I did!” he exclaims indignantly before pitifully pushing around the nearly charred mess of yolk and whites around with his spatula. “I’m not Mark.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, waving your hand around to dissipate the acrid burning smell, and Yangyang throws you a dirty look. He grabs a fork and stabs a small chunk of the eggs. Picking it up, he brings it closer to his mouth before hesitating. His eyes dart to you, and you raise your eyebrows at him, a silent challenge in your gaze. The sad piece of egg hovers in the air for a few more seconds before he defeatedly drops it back into the pan.

“Okay, what if we just Uber Eats some McDonald’s?” Turning off the stove, he then tosses the remnants of his cooking into the trash and drops the pan into the sink.

“Stellar plan. Best idea you’ve had all night.” You hop off the counter to stand next to him, propping your chin on his shoulder to see him pull up the app. He immediately puts in your usual order along with his before holding it up for you to see it better.

“Looks good?”

“Looks perfect.”

He clicks the confirmation button, and the delivery is set to come in 30 minutes. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are with your chest pressed against his back and hastily move away, warmth spreading across your cheeks.

Glancing over at your best friend, you don't miss the way Yangyang smiles down at something on his phone before his fingers fly across the screen. When he looks up, you immediately turn away, focusing your eyes on anything but him.

“Hey, you’re going to the Alpha Sig formal, right?” Yangyang calls out, and you throw on a teasing grin.

“You mean Alpha Sigma Psi, also known as the sorority I’m in?”

“Ah, right, yeah.” He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But you’re going, right?”

You nod, the sudden realization creeping up on you. “Oh yeah, I am, thanks for reminding me. I completely forgot to ask, but do you want t—”

“Ningning just asked me to go with her,” Yangyang blurts out, and you freeze, failing to hide your shock for a split second before you regain your composure.

“Oh wow, that’s great, Yang! I’ll see you there then.” You try to give him a convincing smile. He wrings his hands, biting his bottom lip. Something is on his mind. You can tell. He’s not someone to hold back with his words, but this time, he is.

“I… I don’t know if I’m gonna go,” he says at last. Your heart picks up a little at that. Does that mean he doesn’t want to go to the dance at all? Or does he not want to go with Ningning? If you asked him now, would it make a difference?

“I’ve never slow danced,” he confesses, leaning against the opposite counter, and your heart drops. So that was it. Of course, he wouldn’t reject Ningning. She’s an absolute goddess, heck, you wouldn’t say no if she asked you either. You stamp out that last flicker of hope.

“What if I suck at it?” he continues, absentmindedly carding his fingers through his hair. “Oh god, I bet Yukhei and Kunhang are never gonna let me live it down. I can do choreographed dances, but I’m gonna mess up over a stupid slow dance. But where am I supposed to put my hands?! Like on her shoulders? Her waist? Do I hold her hand?”

Your eyes follow the way his hair ruffles slightly, and you wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. You swallow hard before saying quietly, “I can teach you?”

His hand pauses mid-movement, and your eyes fly down to meet his. His eyes widen, and he contemplates your offer for a split second before nodding excitedly. “Yeah, that’d be great! Can you teach me right now? While we wait for our food to come!”

“S-sure,” you stammer, flustered at the sudden acceptance and his eagerness. “Um, here? In the kitchen?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs before straightening up. “The lights should be dimmed, right? We can kind of mimic that here to set the mood or whatever.”

He goes over and fiddles with the light switch, flicking it on and off, and you laugh, walking over and placing your hand over his. “What are you doing? Some kind of Kevin Nguyen mating call to look for a rave bae?”

“First off, I’m offended that you think I’d be one of them,” Yangyang narrows his eyes at you. “Secondly, I’m trying to make this feel more formal dance-y. Oh, wait!”

He turns off the lights for the last time and reaches over to pull open the refrigerator doors, the artificial fluorescent light pouring out and mixing with the faint beams coming in through the window from the street lamps outside. He grins at you, satisfied. “Romantic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the amused smile on your face gives away your true feelings. “Wow, Romeo, you swept me off my feet. The food is gonna go bad, and Kun is gonna kill you for the high electricity bill.”

“What food? Jeno’s protein shakes probably never expire.” He snorts before standing closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the counter. You can see the pretty gold flecks in his irises, and your breath gets caught in your throat. “And I guess this means you gotta teach me fast before we waste more electricity, right?”

You place your hands on his chest and lightly push him away, and he laughs, stepping back. You let out a shaky breath, remembering that your lungs need oxygen in order to, you know, continue living.

“Okay,” you clear your throat before pulling out your phone and putting on a slow song. “Ready?”

“You chose Ed Sheeran? Thinking Out Loud? Really?”

You raise your hands up defensively. “Hey, he’s the king of sappy slow songs that all girls want to be played at their weddings for their first dance.”

When your legs don't work like they used to before,

And I can't sweep you off of your feet,

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

“Is this the song you want played at your wedding?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and your face grows warm. You ignore the question, and this time, you’re the one taking a bold step forward, a few centimeters now separating you and your best friend. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps lightly before meeting your eyes.

And darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy,

And baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three,

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways.

“So, your hands go here.” You take his hands and place them on either side of your waist. His arms freeze up. “Relax, Yang. Precious cargo here.”

He lets out a chuckle, loosening his grip as he starts to relax. You reach up and slide your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers. You gaze back at him, saying softly, “Now pull me closer.”

He does so.

Maybe just the touch of a hand,

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day,

And I just wanna tell you I am.

“And now follow my lead. We’re going to take one step. And then another. We’re just slowly turning in a circle.”

After a few spins and steps, you stop leading and let yourself be led. Yangyang continues to hold onto you carefully, and you can hear him muttering a 1, 2, 3, 4 count under his breath until he finally gets the hang of it. He grows a little braver, pulling you even closer.

So honey now,

Take me into your loving arms,

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

“Are you going with Dejun?” he asks quietly, and you stiffen at the mention at him before shaking your head.

“No, we broke up in July.”

Yangyang falters in his step before recovering. “Oh. You never told me.”

“Yeah.” You struggle to keep your voice level. “I just… he’s your friend, and I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“You’re my best friend though,” he says firmly, looking you directly in the eyes. His grip on your waist tightens. “It’s his loss. That dumbass just lost the best person who’ll ever come into his life.”

You give him a tired half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. He hugs you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and securing you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and hope that he doesn’t feel how quickly your heart beats in your chest.

Place your head on my beating heart,

I'm thinking out loud,

Maybe we found love right where we are.

“Thanks, Yang,” you whisper, your breath tickling his skin. He envelops you tightly, and the two of you continue to spin in slow circles, quietly dancing in the refrigerator light as the remaining verses of the song warble in the background.

You think you finally understand what Dejun meant when he said he’s breaking up with you because your heart was already occupied by someone else.

You fall in love with him in August.

NOVEMBER 2019.

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: hey you up?

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: 7/11 in ten mins?

Tiredly rubbing your eyes, you stumble out of your dorm building, one of Jeno’s sweaters draped over your figure. November nights are cold, but this one seems chillier than usual. Yangyang stands near the front steps, and he stiffens up when he notices whose hoodie you’re wearing. He makes no mention of it though when you join him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He glances over to you as the two of you walk side by side to the small convenience store just on the edge of campus. You shake your head, shoving your hands into the front pocket of your sweater.

“I was up cramming for midterms. I could use a break anyway,” you shrug. A wisp of your hair falls in your face, and Yangyang starts to reach out to fix it, but forces himself to keep his hand by his side. You reach out to carelessly brush it away, tucking it behind your ear.

“What about you?” You look over at him, noting the bags under his eyes. “Rough night?”

He smiles tiredly at you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “More like rough week. Two more midterms left, and they’re for electromagnetic theory and linear systems.”

“Oh god, good luck. I took linear systems today, and it was absolutely brutal.” You wince, brightening up when you see the familiar neon orange, red, and green lights up ahead.

“Maybe I should just withdraw and take it again next quarter,” your best friend grumbles, kicking the stone as far as he possibly can.

“You really want another quarter with Hwang?”

“You’re right,” he sighs, “I just need to get a C+ to maintain my GPA. C if I’m pushing it.”

The two of you hurry over to the 7-Eleven, quickening your pace, until you reach the store doors, and you pull them open. Entering quickly, you push the door open slightly wider, and Yangyang slips in behind you. The cashier doesn’t even look up, texting away on his phone. You make a beeline towards the chips aisle, grabbing a bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“What are you getting, Yang?” You call out over your shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the Red Bull stand at the end of the aisle. When you hear no response, you halt in your steps, turning around. Yangyang stands in the middle of the aisle, looking dazed under the fluorescent lights.

Putting your items back on the shelf, you approach him, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Yangyang, what’s wrong?”

He jerks back before silently holding up his phone for you to see. There’s a slew of text messages from Ningning a few hours ago, and a quick scan tells you all you need to know. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest when you look back at him, a forlorn expression on his face.

“She dumped me,” he says quietly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “She said our relationship was like a friendship. She didn’t feel anything. She said we could still be friends if I wanted to be though.”

He jabs a large bag of Lays potato chips angrily as his voice raises slightly higher. “But I don’t get it. Do friends take each other on dates? Do friends spend the night? Do friends hug each other and hold hands walking to class? Do friends spend three hundred dollars to do a surprise weekend trip for their birthday?”

He whirls around to face you, and he’s so close that you can see those pretty golden sparkles in his eyes again. Suddenly, his hands are cupping your face, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they flutter shut, and you press your lips against his. The 90s pop station music playing overhead seems to fade away, and all you can focus on is that your best friend tastes like spearmint gum and grape soju. He pulls away abruptly, the realization of what he’s done finally hitting him as his chest heaves up and down.

“Do friends kiss like this?”

His voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts through the silence. You feel like you’re spinning out of control, a split second from careening and crashing.

“No, we—they don’t,” you mumble, and Yangyang sees the starstruck look in your eyes, and he wants to apologize: to say sorry for kissing you. But he doesn’t. Because for some reason, he doesn’t feel sorry. He closes his eyes, curling his hands into fists before exhaling slowly. He sees you looking back at him this time, and he wonders if you feel as equally lost as he does.

Because you’re right. Friends don’t kiss each other like that. Friends don’t feel like this about each other.

He kisses you in November.

AUGUST 2020.

The sun still shines bright late into the day, and August greets you like an old friend. You’re absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your notebook designated for Quantum Mechanics. Yangyang sits next to you in the lecture hall, making a bunch of origami cranes before tossing them at Renjun’s head right in front of him. When the bird reaches its target for the sixth time in a row, the annoyed boy whirls around in his seat, glaring at your best friend.

“Stop that,” he hisses, and Yangyang innocently raises his hands in the air. Renjun angrily frowns at him before turning back around in his seat. After a few minutes, Yangyang flicks another crane towards his friend. If this was a cartoon, you would see steam blowing out of your friend’s ears. You silently watch as he wordlessly picks up his phone, seething as he presses on a particular number.

Suddenly, Travis Scott’s SICKO MODE starts blasting, amplified by the large auditorium-like room. The professor goes silent, and everyone turns to see Yangyang scrambling to pick up his phone. He fumbles around for a few seconds with it before finally shutting it off and putting it on vibrate mode. Cheeks burning red, he meekly puts his phone back in his bag and squeaks out a “sorry” before sinking down in his chair (You can see the culprit grinning like the cat ate the canary right in front of him. Karma’s a bitch who also goes by the name of Renjun).

You pat his arm consolingly as he sulks next to you for a few minutes, mouth jutting out into a pout. You decide to take pity on him and lean closer to him, whispering quietly, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you boba after class?”

Immediately, he brightens up. “One oolong milk tea, half sugar with white pearls and coconut jelly?”

“Yes, I’ll pay for your overpriced drink,” you huff, thinking about how his one seven dollar drink could buy you a whole rotisserie chicken that’ll last you a week. At least the fluffy dog at Cloudy with a Chance of Boba is cute and fun to play with. “I’ll even get the honey waffle fries.”

“Heck yeah!” he whisper-yells, fist pumping quietly before he suddenly deflates. “Wait, I can’t. I promised Lia I’d get lunch with her.”

Ah, right, there’s Lia now. Yangyang’s new girlfriend: the only other student who went to Düsseldorf, Germany to study abroad over the summer, and inevitably, the two of them became close. All you really know about her is that she’s pretty, she’s in Iota Theta Zeta, and she followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago (of course, you followed her back because of the unspoken best friend and girlfriend policy).

Her page looks carefully curated, and there’s a common pink tinted theme going on throughout her feed. She has over a thousand followers, and it seems like Yangyang fits perfectly in her magazine curated life, judging by how he occupies nearly every picture taken in the summer with her or how he’s tagged as the photographer. You can’t deny that they look good together, pointedly shoving the green eyed monster back under the bed.

You take a peek at your messy Instagram page where you only post pictures when you’re half drunk, so there’s no semblance of uniformity anywhere. You shrug at him, pocketing your phone.

“No biggie. I’ll see if Karina is up for some boba. She’s been holed up in the dance studio already, and it’s only week two of classes, can you believe it?”

“I remember Ten was the same way,” Yangyang hums, eyes fixated on his phone and fingers tapping away. He laughs quietly, lips curling into a pretty smile, and you glance over curiously.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm?” Yangyang finally tears his eyes away from his screen for a split second to look at you before another buzz takes his attention away. He’s distracted, lovestruck, and you wistfully smile before turning back to your notes.

“Sorry, what’d you say earlier?” he loudly whispers a few minutes later, and you barely glance up from the large bulbasaur doodle you’re in the progress of completing right next to the chart marking the wave functions for a bouncing ball that you had copied down from the blackboard.

“Oh, I just asked what was so funny,” you murmur, coloring in the flowers you drew around the Pokémon with your blue ballpoint pen.

He looks confused for a moment before lighting up. “Oh! It was just a German joke. It’s not really funny if I translate it though.”

“Got it, no worries.” You notice the professor starting a new example problem, and you abandon your drawing, focusing on the formulas rapidly filling up the chalkboards in front of you. A quiet chuckle echoes in your ears, and you pause in your note taking to look over and see your best friend still typing on his phone. You make a mental reminder to create a copy of your notes for him later on when you pass the library on the way to the dining hall.

“Hey, Y/N.” Yangyang nudges you gently. “Rain check on the boba?”

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course. Anytime.”

He gives you a quick grin in return before his attention returns to the device in his hand—or rather, the pretty girl behind those texts. Your best friend is sitting right next to you, but you’ve never felt so far away. You know distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you don’t think it’s possible to be even fonder of him than you are now. Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him. No wonder it’s beginning to hurt so much.

You lose him in August.

DECEMBER 2020.

December is the coldest month of the year, yet it is also simultaneously the warmest with all the holiday festivities it brings. If Yangyang were to choose a month to describe you, it’d be this one. You are a walking paradox, a conundrum he might never solve, an oxymoron come to life. He doesn’t understand how you can be his best friend, yet feel like a stranger; a friend who he wants as a lover; someone who has created such an impact in his life, but disappears seamlessly here and there.

He wonders when you’ve gotten so distant. He wonders why he never noticed the way you seemed to slip away through the cracks until it’s now nearing the end of the year, and the last time he’s seen you in person was before the November autumn break.

But you’re here.

You’re standing right next to the punch bowl filled with spiked eggnog, wearing a garish knitted button down jumper with brightly colored Christmas lights decorating it. It’s perfectly in theme with the Ugly Christmas Sweater party Nu Chi is holding, and Yangyang is beyond ecstatic to know that you’re attending. He had texted you an invite two weeks ago, and you merely reacted with a thumbs up.

Yangyang swears he was going to follow up with you on that, but he got so caught up with midterms, then meeting Lia’s family for Thanksgiving, then studying for finals, and then finally, preparing for this party. Buying enough beer for twenty-three keg stands is a lot more difficult than it seems (Donghyuck’s car broke down halfway during one trip, and they all had to carry back the packs of beers to the house in 40 degree weather in their Sperry boat shoes and Patagonia long sleeves that definitely weren’t cut out for this kind of weather).

His girlfriend is somewhere in the room, wearing the other half of the reindeer sweater she forced him to put on, but all he can focus on is you. He hurriedly makes his way over, skidding to a stop in front of you, and you’re startled before a smile spreads across your face.

“Hey, you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You grin at him, reaching out to poke the reindeer tail sticking out from the front of his itchy sweater (Lia got to wear the head half of the reindeer, while he was stuck with the behind).

“Yeah, how have you been?” He reaches around you to pick up a cup and pour himself some eggnog. He offers you one, but you decline with a small shake of your head.

“I’ve been doing good, a bit tired with finals coming up, but what’s new?” You joke, grabbing one of the sugar cookies from the table. You’re secretly surprised that they actually have real food (No, Hyuck, Jell-O shots do not count as real food). You suspect Jaemin has something to do with it. He always contributes to the annual Greek row bake sale.

“Are you here with someone? Did Karina come?” he asks, curiosity coating every word. He looks around for your roommate, but she’s nowhere to be found.

You shake your head. “No, I actually came with—”

“Me!”

Yukhei bounds over, slipping an arm over your shoulder. He hands you a new cup of apple cider, which you accept gratefully. He grins happily at Yangyang, who freezes up at the sight of his tall friend. “I asked her to be my date for the party, and she agreed. She also made our sweaters! Aren’t they so cool? There’s even lights that spell my name and play Christmas songs. She did a bunch of cool programming tricks to make them work.”

Yangyang realizes with a start that the two of you are indeed wearing matching sweaters, and that leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth (and it definitely wasn’t because of expired eggnog). The corners of his lips tilt downward as he presses his lips together tightly.

“So… you two are together?” He gestures between you and Yukhei with a forced laugh. Jealousy never did look good on anybody, and unfortunately, he’s not an exception.

“We’re just seeing each other and seeing how it goes for now,” you answer quietly, noting the way your best friend reacts. You have always been good at reading him, and you tread carefully now, not wanting to make a scene. Drunk Yangyang never holds anything back, and he’s had quite a few pre-game shots already (It definitely doesn’t help that he’s a lightweight, too).

“I see. How did you guys meet? Or I guess, start talking?” He attempts to look intimidating, staring down at Yukhei, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish, especially when he’s trying to stare down a six foot guy who’s more like an overgrown puppy and his friend.

“Oh, she came by for one of your boba runs, but you were still out with Lia. So I asked if I could go with her.” Yukhei flashes his pearly whites at you, and you chuckle, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I said yes, and we hit it off, I guess.”

“You guess? And you took him on our boba runs?”

“You were out with Lia,” you say defensively, and he blanches when he hears his girlfriend’s name come out of your mouth.

“You could’ve waited,” he mutters, but you still hear it, and you give him a scathing look, finally too tired of this push and pull game that’s been going on behind the scenes for nearly three years now.

“I did. I waited over an hour here for you, but you didn’t show up or even text me that you were gonna be late. Yukhei was nice enough to offer to go with me.”

He stays silent, and you gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. Yukhei looks at you in concern, but you reach up and squeeze his hand reassuringly, which your best friend doesn’t fail to notice, his lips pressing into an even thinner line.

“I don’t understand what the deal is,” you finally burst out, startling both boys. “What’s the big deal about me and Yukhei going out?”

Something inside of him finally snaps. “The big deal is that you’re basically sleeping through my list of friends and then breaking up with them! First Dejun, then Jeno, now Yukhei? Who’s next? Should I give Renjun a heads up? Pencil you into his planner? Or Sicheng? Sungchan? You have a class with him, so you’re bound to flirt with him, too, right? When are you gonna stop fucking around with my frien—”

He gasps, stopping mid-outburst as he stares at you in disbelief. Apple cider slides down from his hair, dripping onto his face and soaking into his sweater, the sticky juice clinging to his skin uncomfortably. You’re absolutely seething, the empty cup crackling in your clenched fist. Shocked, Yukhei carefully tugs the plastic away from you and places it on the table before replacing it with his own hand, his thumb caressing circles on the back of your hand soothingly. Yangyang doesn’t dare to meet his furious gaze, lifting his chin to look at you instead. The entire room has hushed down by now, all eyes staring directly at the three of you in a mixture of surprise and slight terror.

“Screw you, Yangyang,” you say lowly, voice shaking with anger. Tears form on the edge of your waterline, but you blink them away before hastily brushing a stray droplet from your cheek. “They asked me out. I said yes. We went out. It didn’t work out. We move on. Just like how you’ve gone out with my friends. And they didn’t work out, so you moved on. So what’s so wrong about that? What’s so wrong about trying again to find love?”

He can’t answer you, curling his hands into fists until his fingernails indent miniature crescents in his palms—until the pain overtakes the feelings that are threatening to spill from his heart. Yangyang may not be yours, but he doesn’t like the fact that he can’t call you his either.

Love. That’s what you want, that’s what you crave, but not if it’s from him. So what is he supposed to do with love that’s unwanted? It’s bursting at the seams, and he has nowhere to hide it anymore.

He loves you in December.

AUGUST 2021.

August sneaks up on you this time around, and you find yourself in Kunhang’s apartment. All of your close friends are here, starting the last year of youth with one final first day party. You think back to that day three years ago: when your eyes met a pair of equally bright ones for the first time.

Curled up next to Yukhei on the couch, you look across the room and meet those very same eyes, although they seem hazier this time around. Lia is wrapped around his arm, and you think it’s quite ironic how both your and his relationships remain the same after all this time. Perhaps you both were bad luck for each other, leading to the other’s demise with short lived relationships. He looks away from you.

The rules of truth or dare are simple. You cannot ask the same person again until three other people have been asked first, and no one can be asked more than three times in each round. And, for reasons you can’t understand, everyone seems to take the code of truth seriously.

“I’ll start,” Kunhang announces, leaning back in one of the several beanbags he has in his place. “Goeun, truth or dare?”

Goeun sighs, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “Dare.”

“You and Mark, seven minutes in heaven.” Hendery points towards the coat closet, and the immediate reaction of hoots and wolf whistles has the girl rolling her eyes. With an exasperated huff, she stands up and pulls a red faced Mark along with her.

“Wait, you gotta pick the next person!” Donghyuck calls out, and she stops in her tracks, throwing open the closet door and shrugging. “You can choose for me.”

With that, she and Mark disappear behind the door, and Donghyuck turns toward the rest of the group, eyes glimmering mischievously. You pay no attention to him, absentmindedly playing with Yukhei’s fingers. You tug one of his rings off his finger, and he smiles, plucking it from your grasp carefully before holding your hand. He carefully slides it onto your right ring finger, but it falls off. Grinning, he pretends to try it on every single one of your fingers until finally settling on your thumb. The ring fits snugly there, and you admire it, wriggling your thumb around.

“Well, look at that. It fits you. I think that means we’re meant to be,” Yukhei says, smiling broadly, and you laugh, interlocking your fingers with his again before glancing down at the silver engraved band resting on your finger. The weight of the metal feels heavy resting against your knuckle.

“Yangyang, truth or dare.”

Donghyuck’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you instinctively perk up in your seat at the sound of his name before freezing up in your spot. Yukhei squeezes your hand softly, and you tighten your grip around his fingers.

“Truth.”

“You’re no fun,” Donghyuck sighs, slouching back against the armrest. Yukhei leans over and whispers something in his ear before settling back next to you, shifting slightly to wrap his arm around you. Donghyuck lifts an eyebrow at your boyfriend before shrugging. “Okay, here’s an easy one. Are you in love…”

“Yes.” is his immediate response, and you notice how Lia absolutely preens next to him.

“… with Y/N?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you immediately turn your head to look at Yukhei, your eyes growing wide in horror. He looks apologetic, shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but just the way he looks at you, it’s so obvious, and I had to know.”

You whip around to face the boy in question. With bated breath, you look at him, but Yangyang stares at the center of the floor, struggling internally. Everyone is quiet, and it reminds you of the calm before a storm. At last, he looks up, gazing right at you, and you can almost swear that you see those pretty little gold flecks in his irises from here.

“Yes,” Yangyang confesses quietly.

There’s almost a collective gasp rippling through the room, and Yukhei lets out an inaudible swear under his breath. Your grip on his hand grows slack as you fumble to get a grasp on the entire situation.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

The words echo in your mind like a mantra until it grows so loud that you can’t hear any of your own thoughts anymore. Lia is in absolute hysterics, demanding an explanation from him, but he merely shrugs her off. Standing up, he quickly moves to leave the room, glancing at you one more time before disappearing out the front door.

It’s like your body is on auto-pilot after this. You drop Yukhei’s hand, immediately standing up and rushing after your best friend, paying no mind to the hushed whispers that only seem to increase in volume once you leave. You step out onto the porch, and there he is, sitting on the steps.

You quietly stand behind him, contemplating what to say and carefully choosing your next words. But there’s only one question on your mind.

“Why did you say that?”

He stays silent for a moment, staring out at the moon shining brightly ahead. “Because I meant it.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. “You shouldn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you, an indescribable look in his eyes. It reminds you of heartbreak. “But I do. And I tried not to for the past three fucking years, but I can’t anymore.”

“Since freshman year?” You feel the tears well up in your eyes, and this time, you let them go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yangyang grips onto the edge of the stairs tightly, frustration ringing with every word that falls from his mouth. “Because I was scared. And I thought you never felt the same way. You’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yang…” You whisper, hand reaching out as you let it hover over his shoulder for a few seconds. Then, you pull back, curling your fingers into fists, pressing crescent indentations into the palms of your hands.

He stands up, whirling around to look at you, desperate. “Tell me I’m not too late. Please, Y/N.”

Something inside of you breaks. You open your mouth and start to say something when the door opens behind you. Turning around, you see Yukhei. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you standing there.

You know this is it. This is the moment. This is where you have to decide.

“I, I was just looking for you. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Yukhei awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna go back in and—”

“No, wait, it’s okay,” you gently interrupt him. You reach out and slip your hand into his, and he relaxes, giving you a relieved smile. You smile softly back at your boyfriend before turning to face him, eyes apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Yangyang.”

He and you are asymptotes: two lines curving towards each other, but never touching; two hands reaching towards each other, but never interlocking; two people tangling their red strings of fate, but never tying.

You give him one last glance before going back inside with Yukhei.

You break his heart in August.

SEPTEMBER 2021.

September is supposed to be a new beginning: the transition from summer to autumn. Yangyang doesn’t think he can let go of you as easily as the trees shed their green for gold and red. Wherever he goes, wherever he looks, little reminders of you bloom in every crevice. You’re absolutely everywhere and nowhere, and it drives him crazy.

He thinks he’s gone completely insane when he hears your laugh while he’s walking to the laundromat one day. He shoves his airpods in and continues on his way until he sees you. Walking across the street, there you are. You’re on the phone with someone, and he contemplates going over to say hello. But suddenly, you’re hanging up the phone and waving eagerly at someone. When he turns his head to look, his heart drops and gets buried six feet under. He hurriedly ducks into a nearby bookstore and watches as you run up to Yukhei, slipping your hand into his like it’s second nature to you now. The two of you walk off together, and Yangyang is left standing at the window of the store until the shop owner politely asks if there’s anything he needs.

He doubts a time machine is something they have in stock, so he silently shakes his head and steps out onto the street once again. It is now silent and empty.

He loses you in September.

AUGUST 2022.

A lot can change in eleven months.

You’re twenty two years old, but you feel like you’re eighteen again. You know you’re going to see him for the first time since September at Kun’s housewarming. You had repeatedly assured Yukhei that you’d be fine. After all, life goes on; the world doesn’t stop just because you had a falling out with your best friend, even if it may have been a little more than that. Nevertheless, a year has nearly passed. Time is known to be the best healer, and perhaps your heart has shed its old skin and habits.

Your hand is safely enveloped in Yukhei’s, and the two of you walk towards your older friend’s new apartment. He playfully swings your interlocked hands back and forth, and you giggle, tightening your grip around his fingers. You stop in front of the door, the muffled sounds of a party slipping through the cracks. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensed. He’s in there.

“Are you okay?”

Yukhei squeezes your hand gently, voice laced with concern. You remember to breathe, exhaling slowly and relaxing before nodding. You smile up at him. “I’m okay.”

“If you want, we can go back home now, have another NCIS marathon, and drink this by ourselves.” Yukhei waves around the nice bottle of wine the two of you had brought for Kun. “We can even stop by the convenience store and get some ramen.”

You laugh quietly, the corners of your lips upturning with mirth. “It’s okay, I’m fine, Yukhei, I promise. Plus, I have you, right?”

He brightens up at that, practically beaming at you, and your heart skips a beat. “Right!”

You reach out and knock on the door. Kun greets the two of you, and you enter his apartment. Yukhei still doesn’t let go of your hand, and you follow behind him as you weave your way through the living room, greeting some of your friends. You hear Kunhang calling out to your boyfriend from the kitchen and feel him hesitate next to you. You squeeze his hand gently before letting go and nudging him in the direction of his friend. Yukhei gives you one last look, but you wave him off, smiling goodnaturedly and silently assuring that you’re okay. He swoops down and leaves behind a soft kiss for you before going.

You walk over to the alcohol table, pouring yourself something to drink. Leaning against the wall, you take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting over the rim of your cup and slowly scanning the room. It feels like forever, like everything is moving in slow motion, like the world is submerged underwater, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

You find him easily. After all, it’s hard to forget someone whose features you’ve memorized over the past four years. Your eyes map the delicate outline of his face once more, and for a moment, you wonder if red is still his favorite color, or who he shares a carton of Ben and Jerry’s with nowadays. You wonder if he thinks of you sometimes, too.

But then, you wonder where Yukhei is. You search around until you see your boyfriend still standing in the kitchen, laughing at something your mutual friend said. Your eyes soften when you see him grab your favorite snack. You turn back around, your heart swelling in your chest tenfold, and your lips curl upwards, an endeared expression on your face.

That’s when you notice that he’s looking at you.

You brace yourself, waiting for the tidal wave of emotions to wash over you and the quickening of your heart rate to greet you like an old friend. Because that’s what always happens when you’re around him. After all, he is the biggest what-if in your life. He is someone you almost loved forever, someone you almost stayed for.

And yet, nothing happens. You wait a little longer. The world still goes round, and you’re still breathing. There’s no shortness of breath, no erratic heart palpitations, no sweaty palms, absolutely nothing. Liu Yangyang is a stranger in a familiar body, and your heart remains still.

You give Yangyang a faint smile, nodding towards him, and it feels like a sudden jolt in his heart. Time stops, and all he can see is you. You look beautiful. You have always been beautiful. This is his chance. Whatever higher entity out there has taken pity on him and given him a second try to make it right. He finally takes a step towards you, and the tender, encouraging expression in your eyes gives him the strength to take another one. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Clutching his drink in hand, he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s only eight, seven, six, five steps away from you now. A smile grows on his face as relief curls around his heart like a bandage. You’re standing there, waiting for him, smiling at him.

And suddenly, you’re no longer looking at him.

You stopped looking at him.

Yukhei makes his presence known next to you, excitedly chattering about something and gesturing towards the kitchen as he hands you something to eat. It’s a snickerdoodle cookie. Your favorite. Your eyes are fixated on the tall boy, positively sparkling as you beam at him.

Yangyang feels like he can’t breathe. The bandage is ripped off, and all he can feel is excruciating pain like a thousand pinpricks into his heart before the numbness hits. He freezes, rooting himself in that spot on the scratched hardwood floor as his colleagues and friends continue to jostle around him. As his world crumbles around him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. They stay on you, the barest traces of nostalgia lingering in the dimmed golden flecks of his irises that you had still admired all those months ago. It’s like he’s trapped in a silent film, stuck in a fish bowl and swimming in circles, and he watches in horror as you outstretch your hand and intertwine your fingers around Yukhei’s, leaning up to press your lips against his tenderly. Your boyfriend looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky yourself (He would believe it if you said you did).

You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Yangyang remembers when you used to. When you used to love him. When you were almost his. He feels something inside of him break for a second time.

The world continues to spin, and yet, he’s still not moving. He’s stuck in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper as everyone around him moves on—as you move on. He desperately tries to keep you in his view, and his feet finally pick up as he lurches forward. He’s not fast enough. You’re slipping away, walking away from him, hand in hand with Yukhei, disappearing around the corner of the hallway, and he can’t do anything about it. It’s too late. He’s too late. The sticky remnants of cheap beer run down his wrist, and it finally registers in his mind that he had crushed the flimsy plastic cup in his hand sometime in between now and then. In a crowded room full of people, he’s left standing there, alone and lonely.

Almost is the worst way to love someone, Yangyang bitterly realizes. It hurts to lose someone you almost love. No, it was never an ‘almost’. He most certainly loved—loves—you. And it should be impossible to lose someone who was never his to begin with, yet he has. All this time, he thought he had you, but it had always been the other way around.

He was your August, he was your everything, and he is yours.

But you will never be his.

You let go of him in August.

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