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#i need to know your life story and all your beautiful lil mannerisms and favorite things

berberriescorner · 2 years

Text

"Gimme Some"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: You know what they say, “sharing is caring,” and Rio wants a taste 👅.

Warnings: Cursing, daddy kink, and smut sprinkled throughout the story🙈😈. This a lil freaky, y’all🤷🏾‍♀️.

Word Count: 1,800+.

A/N: I Ate one blow pop, and my mind went straight into kink mode😆! It’s my birthday, so to celebrate, I’m finally posting something for all my sweet mutuals💓. Please excuse any grammatical errors.

Checking your phone for the third time in a row, you exhaled. You waited patiently for Rio to come home. He had called earlier that day, letting you know he’d have some free time tonight. Your mind replayed the conversation.

“Going to be a light business day, sweetheart. I’m coming home early tonight. Just give me a couple of hours. Get your beautiful ass ready. Put on that little dress I like. I’m taking you to dinner, mama.”

Rio had chuckled at the giddiness in your voice. Spontaneous date nights were one of the many things you loved about him. Growing impatient, you shot him a quick text.

Husbae😘🙈♥️: Papaaa, how much longer are you going to be?

Wifey: I’m leaving in a few minutes.

Husbae😘🙈♥️: Bruh, it’s going to be forever before we get to our reservation😩🙄. I know your pretty boy ass will still need to shower and change once you get here.

Wifey: Of course! You know I got to put that shit on for my wife. Chill, It won’t take that long. You getting hangry, my baby?

Husbae😘🙈♥️: You swear you know me so well😒. Just hurry up, please😏.

Wifey: I knew my good girl didn’t forget her manners.

Husbae😘🙈♥️: Rio.

Wifey: Chill, mama, lol. I’m on my way home to you now.

Rio had been right about one thing. You were starving and regretting the choice to skip breakfast. Then there was the stupid idea to work through lunch. Now here you were, stomach growling obnoxiously loud. You knew there was no use in searching for a snack. The busy week you’d been having kept you from restocking the pantry. Glancing at your handbag on the coffee table, you rifled through it. Pulling a blow pop from an inner pocket, you ripped the plastic off, tossing it aside. Tastebuds sprang to life as your mouth wrapped around the watermelon-flavored treat. You enjoyed the blow pop and scrolled through TikTok.

Twenty minutes passed before you heard the front door unlock. Keying in the pin to the alarm, Rio headed to the living room in search of you. You could smell his cologne before he entered the room. Feeling his presence, you spoke without looking up from your phone.

“Hi, baby.”

Your head tilted so he could pepper you with kisses on the cheek. He buried his face against your neck and inhaled his favorite scent on you. Rio groaned, sliding his tongue across the flesh. He finished with a playful bite, leaving a slight indentation.

“You smell good enough to eat, mama. I see this dress is hugging all those curves as usual.”

Still scrolling through your phone, you giggled and thanked him. He rolled his eyes, noticing you were on TikTok.

“You need to leave that social media shit alone, baby. That can turn into an addiction.”

“Relax, father, I’m just occupying myself until you’re ready to leave. Go shower and get ready, papa. I’d advise you to feed me as soon as possible. You know I’ll catch a full-blown attitude if you don’t. This sucker will only curb my appetite for so long,” she sassed with a mouthful of blow pop.

“Always talking with a mouth full,” he responded.

His eyes twinkled with mischief. Your brain registered what he meant, and your eyes darted to him.

“You never seem to mind,” you smirked, refocusing on the phone screen.

Just as he was about to shower, his phone interrupted him. Rio took a seat on the couch across from you. His attention focused on whatever business associate was on the other end of the line. That was until he glanced over at you. He was thrown off by how sensual you looked eating the lollipop. He was blown away by your cluelessness. You sat there unaware of the explicit image you were painting for him.

There’s no way she doesn’t know how this is affecting me. Mama ‘bout to have my shit standing at attention. She better stop playing with me. Mess around and bend her ass over this couch.

Rio was no longer interested in what the associate on the other end of the line had to say. He made an excuse rushing the blubbering idiot off the phone. Putting his phone on the coffee table, Rio leaned back against the couch cushions. Still admiring the view, his hands rested in his lap as he watched you silently. Hearing him end the call, you directed your attention toward him. His gaze fixated on you. That crooked grin you loved so much made an appearance. Rio couldn’t pull his sight away from your lips as he cleared his throat to speak. His words dripped with desire, “that sucker must be good, mama. You sure are giving it the business.” His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he continued to watch you.

Rio’s words dripped with flirtation and innuendo, putting you on notice. Now that you were privy to the sexual tension in the room, you decided to play with him.

“You know, I much prefer tootsie pops over these,” you explained in an innocent tone.

Rio chuckled at your faux innocence. Your eyelashes fluttered as your teeth sank into your bottom lip, telling him everything he needed to know. His lips formed a slight grin as he responded, “is that right, mama? Why is that,” he questioned, as his words dripped with desire.

Rio leaned closer to you as his eyes focused on your full lips. The sight of them made him crave you. His vision then settled on your face. Rio’s brown orbs drank you in as he licked his lips. The hunger in his eyes caused you to falter for a moment.

Don’t fumble the bag bitch! Answer his sexy ass. You’re supposed to be seducing him, not the other way around.

Pushing all inner thoughts aside, with closed eyes and your lips wrapped around the sweet treat. You moaned and sucked at the lollipop with vigor. A suction-like sound fell from your lips as Rio groaned and repositioned himself. You did not doubt that he was growing hard inside his pants. Hearing that beautiful sound fall from his delicious mouth made your lids flutter open. He could see the deviousness in your eyes. Releasing the sucker from your lips created a slight popping noise, and a devilish grin danced across your face. The lust in your boyfriend's eyes was undeniable.

“Answer my question, mama,” he demanded, voice sounding smooth and velvety deep.

The baritone of his voice caused you to shiver and squeeze your thighs together.

“With tootsie pops, you can swallow everything, daddy,” you purred as you slid the blow pop back into your mouth.

Rio’s eyes traveled to your mouth again as his head nodded a few times. Hearing those words fall from your lips caused his thick member to twitch inside his jeans as he released a low growl. His hands slid down his lap and to his knees as he leaned forward to speak.

“You enjoy swallowing, don’t you, mama?”

“Mmhmm, and you enjoy watching, don’t you? Mmm, this is just so delicious. Want a taste, papa?”

You released the sucker from your mouth, tilting the blow pop in his direction. Biting his lip, your husband gave another head nod. Your eyes followed every movement he made. You had expected him to suckle the treat, but Rio caught you off guard. A gasp escaped you as his hands grasped both sides of your face pulling you to him, faces only inches apart. He closed what little space was left, licking and sucking the remnants of blow pop from your glossy pout. A couple of seconds ticked by before his tongue found its way inside. You didn’t fight for dominance over the hungry kiss, wanting to be his good girl. It was obvious that Rio was running the show and beating you at your own game. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. Still close enough to feel his breath against your panting mouth, another lopsided grin graced his face. Rio’s eyes bore into yours as one of his hands slid down your torso. He caressed your stomach and trailed his digits to your thigh, where he fisted the thin fabric of your dress. With one firm yank, he pulled the hem of your dress high enough to slip a hand underneath. You cried out as he ran a finger through your folds, going just a little deeper to lightly tease your clit.

“Now, how’d I know my pussy would be bare, mama,” he asked rhetorically.

You were too busy moving your hips against his fingers and whimpering to respond. Rio acted as if he were about to kiss you again but moved away from your eager lips to tease you. He chuckled as you kissed your teeth.

“You want another kiss, darlin’? C’mere.”

He licked and nibbled at your mouth but pulled back, still in a teasing mood. You wanted to scold him, but your breath caught in your throat. Rio bowed his head low enough to pull the sucker into his mouth, sliding it to the left to bury it in his left cheek. Both were shocked that you had managed to hold onto it the entire time. He enjoyed it as his fingers started to dip inside and play with you again.

“Look at me, baby. Keep your eyes on me while I play with you. Damn, mama. You were right this pus-. My bad, mama. I got distracted with thoughts of my favorite meal. I meant to say this blow pop is good as fuck. You taste better, though.”

His fingers started to piston into you hard and fast. It wasn’t long before you cried his name. The orgasm erupted within as you creamed his fingers and shook violently.

“Rio, daddy! Oh, fuck.”

“Did that feel good, baby? Hmm? Shhh, relax. Come down off that high for me, sweetheart.”

You came back down to earth your eyes slowly opened, meeting the lust-filled twinkling orbs of your husband. Rio was grinning cockily, still sucking the lollipop.

His hand slid from your essence as he husked, “since we’re sharing and all, open up.” Licking Rio’s fingers clean caused him to release a low growl.

“Thank you for sharing with me, baby. I didn’t forget about you popping your shit earlier. Talking about tootsie pops and how you can swallow everything. Come, love. Let’s get you fed. Daddy’s got something special for you. Let me feed it to you in the shower. Need you to get on your knees and show me the same love you were giving this blow pop.” he rasped.

I hope you enjoyed the read, my lovelies! Please be sure to reblog, love, and comment. Feedback is greatly appreciated🥹♥️!

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Taglist:

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@writing-that-fuels-me

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#berberriescorner #gimme some fic #rio x black!reader #rio x woc!reader #rio x y/n #rio x reader #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls #good girls rio #daddy rio #manny montana

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watermelonlovershigh · 3 years

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Day in the Life of a Single Dad with a 2 Yr Old

This was requested by this anon.

AN: let me know if you guys like fluff fics & i'll try to write them as frequent as my smut & sicfics. also couldn't come up with a better title so... yeah the title is a lil iffy.

Things to help you understand this story better:

(Harry is a single parent/Harry is 25/Harry is a healthy eater/Loves his daughter so much)

Harry is peacefully sleeping in his bed alone. Covers to his chin, curled up on his side. That is until his beautiful two year old daughter comes barging in there to wake her daddy up. He shouldn't be asleep she thinks. It's too late. In reality its only 7 am on a Saturday, but to an early riser like her, he should be awake and playing with her. Or making her breakfast.

Her little feet pad over to her daddy's side of the bed. She can barley reach him due to the height of his bed, but manages to stretch her little arms up and taps on Harrys face. "Daddy, wake up." she speaks in her little British accent. Harry slowly opens his eyes and immediately squeezes them shut because of the sunlight coming from the window blinding him. "Daddy!!" his daughter says a little louder.

If his daughter was any older, Harry might tell her to wait a few minutes or go back to bed because it's too early, but he knows she's only 2. So he forces his eyes open again and reaches down to hook his hands in her tiny arm pits to lift her on the bed. "Why are you awake so early babe." he asks in a gravely voice, while placing her on his bare chest.

"I hungry." her tiny voice replies.

"Mhmm what would you like?" Harry mumbles sleepily.

"Sweets." she says innocently.

"I don't think so love. We don't eat sweets for breakfast. It will give you a tummy ache. What about a healthy fruit salad. We have some Watermelon and Strawberries in the fridge." he replies to his daughter who's straddling his chest.

"NO, I WANT SWEETS! I WANT SWEETS!" she yells back with angry tears threatening to escape.

"D/n, we do not yell!" her father speaks firmly. "We can't have sweets but we can have something other than a fruit salad if you want. Lets go down and see what we have." With a tight grip on his upset daughter, Harry gets out of bed and makes his way down the spiral staircase and into the kitchen.

This wasn't something new to him. Ever since his daughter turned 2 in August, she's been acting up a lot more than previously. You could say it was the terrible twos everyone talks about. Harry tries his hardest to teach her the proper ways to behave but it's been proven to be a lot more difficult than anticipated. Especially hard when he's busy all the time and isn't with her 24/7 like stay-at-home mums are or stay-at-home dads were. He's a musician. Not a so called musician that gets excited to book a Friday night at the local pub. No, Harry is a international pop star.

When he ended up getting a one-night stand pregnant, he told them they could do what they wanted as far keeping the baby or not. Harry has always been one to agree that its a women's choice. But his one-night stand wanted to have the baby. Honestly, you'd think Harry would get angry that she decided to keep it, but he wasn't. Maybe it wasn't the ideal situation to have a baby from a one-night stand that he had on tour, but he being the loving Harry everyone seems to know and love, of course tried to look at it as a positive thing. But when his daughter was born, his one-night stand got her minute of fame by saying she had Harry Styles baby and left. Abandoned her own blood. Harry had to get full custody of his daughter and ever since then she's been living with her daddy.

It was really hard the first few months of her life. A baby needs their mothers comfort and warmth and she had none of that. She never got the opportunity to breast feed or feel the love of her mother, and Harry feels sick just thinking about it. So Harry put his career on hold for a few months to take care of his daughter and show her that someone cares for her. He never wanted her to feel unloved. It was his biggest fear. That's why every day since the day she was born, he tells her how much he loves her. Shows her how much he loves her.

He did all her nightly feedings with warmed up formula in bottles. He changed her diapers at all hours of the day. He gave her baths every day to make sure she smelled nice and clean. And when she turned 1 years old and was getting more active, he took her to the studio with him and let her play her toys.

Just because Harry is a single parent doesn't mean he doesn't have help or support. He has a lot of help when it comes to taking care of his daughter. His sister Gemma babysits all the time for him when he's got something very important to do at the studio where he'd prefer if his daughter wasn't there. Harry's mum watches his daughter frequently when he has a interview he needs to attend. Even some of Harry's friends watch or take care of her when needed. Especially some of his ex bandmates that have kids of their own now. Harry's daughter has playdates with Bear, Liam's son about once a month. They're about the same age and their dads are friends so it works out great. His daughter has even played with Freddie, Louis's son. Not as much because Freddie lives in America but when he comes to England to spend time with his father they hang out. Freddie and Harry's daughter are quite similar. They were both created due to a one-night stand. The only difference is Freddie's mum wanted him. Didn't abandon him. So he has a relationship with both parents. Needless to say, besides all the things a mother can give to their child, his daughter has a good life. People love her, and once again that's all Harry could ask for. People and himself to love his daughter.

After fighting with his daughter about what to eat for breakfast, she finally settles for some Strawberry pancakes as long as they have chocolate syrup on top. Harry gives in and allows a little chocolate for her to have with breakfast. She sits in her high chair munching on the pancakes while Harry cleans the mess from cooking. Like washing the pan and wiping the stove off. When he's finished cleaning, he notices his daughter has stopped eating and is just making a mess with her food at this point.

Walking up to her high chair, Harry bends down and lifts her sticky body up and says, "Alright, time to give you a bath little one."

"No bath daddy! Me no want a bath!" she yells and attempts to kick her fathers legs but Harry grabs ahold of them in his big hand and stops her movements which makes her small body more angry. She screams very loud in his ear and pounds her baby fist in his shoulders, expressing her anger. Harry really wants to get upset. But what he's read in parenting books is that if you ignore their behavior and act like you don't see their tantrums, it will make it better and they'll give up on trying so hard to show their anger. Because most toddlers have tantrums to try and get attention from their parent(s). By ignoring it, you're not feeding into it.

"I'm sorry but you have chocolate all over you love. Need to get you clean because I need to take you to the studio for a few hours with me today. How does that sound?" trying to make bath time and going to the studio sound fun.

After fighting with Darcy to get in the bath, Harry finally got her in the tub. He struggled to wash her curly hair due to the fact she wouldn't sit still, even after he gave her a rubber ducky to play with. Once he's washed her hair and chocolate covered body, Harry picks her up and wraps her in a big fluffy towel, then takes her to her room to get changed. He manages to get a pull up on her, (still trying to potty train), and puts a lovely red track suit on her with some Gucci shoes. Then he carries her in front of the bathroom mirror to brush her hair.

"Be good for daddy and let me brush your hair." Harry tells his daughter in a gentle manner.

As soon as he passes the brush in her hair, his daughter screams, "Owww, it hurts daddy!"

10 minutes later, Harry has brushed her locks and put her hair into some cute pigtails. With his 2 year old crying in the process. He's pretty good at doing hair because he used to have longer hair himself. Then he picks her up off the counter and places her on the ground, walking her to his bedroom.

"Can you lay in my bed while I get ready? I'll put on your favorite show." he questions calmly.

"Peppa Pig, Peppa Pig, Peppa Pig!" is daughter chants.

"Alright, alright." He picks up his baby girl and sets her in the middle of his bed. Then he grabs the remote to turn his wall mounted tv on. He scrolls on Netflix and finds Peppa Pig to keep her occupied. Then goes to his bathroom to get dressed and ready to head to the studio.

When he exits his bathroom fully dressed and ready to leave, he finds a sleeping toddler on his bed, snuggled into his pillow. Her perfectly outlined lips slightly parted. Harry can't help but smile. He loves his baby girl with his entirety and seeing her peaceful like this makes him so happy. He turns the tv off and carefully picks her up into his arms and heads down the stairs to his car in the garage. But not before stopping by her room to pick up her mini backpack that holds extra pullups and a sippy cup full of juice, with some of her toys as well. Her tiny face is stuffed into her daddy's neck and Harry can feel light puffs of air hitting his skin. He puts his daughter in her car seat and buckles her up properly. Then gets in himself to drive to the studio.

About 5 minutes away from the studio, Darcy wakes up from her late morning nap and whines out, "Me wanna go home and play with you!"

"I'm sorry but I have to work for a little bit. I'll play with you when we get home later. How does that sound Hmm?" She was not satisfied with her fathers answer and starts wailing. Hot salty tears run down her little cheeks and she makes exaggerated sounds to emphasize her crying. She kicks at the seat in front of her and balls her fist up as if she's going to hit something but unfortunately to her, she can't reach a single thing due to her seat belt. Once again, Harry just ignores her cries of anger and turns the radio on loud to block it out.

By the time they arrive at the studio, Harry's daughter has calmed down. She's still upset but at least she isn't crying and that's progress in Harry's eyes. He parks his car in a secluded area to hide from potential paparazzi and unbuckles her. Then shields her face form potential cameras and make their way into the music studio. Harry has to record some audio for his newest album so that's why he needed to come in today. They enter the studio where the rest of his solo band is. He prefers to record the instruments live instead of manufactured drums and guitars.

At some point when he was getting ready in his home bathroom, Harry had called his assistant and told her he needed to bring his daughter in to the studio with him so she could watch her while he's busy. She agreed but being Harry Styles assistant, it wasn't really an option. Not that Harry would force her but she's an assistant for a reason. To do jobs Harry assigns her. In this case babysit his toddler while he records a song. He doesn't have anyone else today and unfortunately can't leave her at home with a mummy like many other fathers can. He's just happy his job allows his daughter to be somewhat a part of it. Not in the spotlight because he keeps his daughters identity a secret from the public for her protection, but as far as her going to the studio with him or when she gets older, she can come on tour with him.

Harry's assistant takes his toddler and her mini backpack full of her essentials. They hang out in the open area, out of the way from his band and he himself so he can get what he needs to get done so they can wrap everything up for the album. Harry's daughter actually loves his assistant. They have grown quite close over the 2 years of her life. But because she's going through her terrible twos, the toddler didn't want to behave for anyone today.

About an hour into Harry's work, he's interrupted with a frantic assistant that has a screaming toddler in her arms. "I'm sorry Harry but she's been crying for about 30 minutes and I've done everything I know to do to get her to calm down." Harry isn't upset his assistant came to him for help with his baby. That's not the type of guy he is.

Harry takes off his headphones and walks over to them. He picks his little girl up into his tattooed arms and questions, "Love, why are you upset for? If you keep crying, you'll end up with a tummy ache."

She just hugs around her fathers neck with her little arms and says, "Want you daddy." Those words almost breaks his heart. Harry doesn't know where this sudden want for him has came from.

"You can have me all you want when I'm finished working, alright. I'll be done shortly." He struggles to pass her back over to his assistant, but finally manages. "Maybe she's hungry. I'll give you a few pounds to take her through drive thru at McDonalds. Would you like McDonalds d/n?" She just nods her pigtailed head. He would suggest for them to go inside, but the public knows what his assistant looks like so they'd know that was his daughter. The daughter that has her identity secret for now. His assistant takes the toddler to the McDonalds drive thru and orders her some chicken nuggets. Even through Harrys pescatarian, he still allows his daughter to eat meats. Then Harry goes back to work in the studio.

Around 2 in the afternoon, Harry and the two year old make it back home. The rest of the evening was a little hectic with a few tantrums here and there. Harry cooked them a nice meal for dinner at about 6 and played dolls with her in the short period of time she wasn't upset. Then comes the dreaded bedtime.

Harry changes her into some pjs and helps her brush her teeth. Then when he went to put her in bed, she started crying for the 100th time today. "Me sleep with you daddy." she cries out. There's a part of him that wants to say yes and cave in, but the parent part of him is saying no. She needs to learn to be a big girl. Harry really doesn't understand why she wants to sleep with him all the sudden. She normally has no problem sleeping by herself.

"No baby. You need to be a big girl and sleep in your bed sweetheart. I'm right next door if you need me though okay." His daughter clings to his body and cries fat tears. Harry decides to stay in her room until she falls asleep. So that's what he does. When she subsumes to sleep, he lays her down in her bed and pulls the covers up over her frail body. Then exits her room quietly.

Harry changes into some comfier clothes himself and goes down stairs to get himself a glass of wine. Then he sits on the sofa and turns a series on to watch before bed. Times like now is when he wishes he had a wife. He'd even take a girlfriend. Just someone to hold him late at night and cuddle with him. Even have some type of intimacy. Ever since he found out about his daughter, Harrys game of sleeping around stopped. He didn't want to keep sleeping with random girls when he was becoming a dad. He was raised better than that. So needless to say he was lonely. In every way possible. Mentally, and physically.

Whilst in the middle of the show he's watching, Harry is brought back to reality when he hears a blood-curdling scream from up the stairs. He rushes to set his wine down on the coffee table and runs to his daughters room. When he walks in there, his heart sinks. The toddler is crying so hard she's gasping for air. It's a different cry that he's seen through-out the day. Unlike her terrible twos tantrums, this cry sounds like she's scared. Harry runs to her and picks her up. "Hey what's wrong my love? Tell daddy what's wrong." he asks of his child, soothing her to his chest.

As her tears slow down in the comfort of her daddy's arms, she mumbles, "You left me." Once again Harrys confused because she never acts like this.

Harry walks out her bedroom and goes to sit with her on the sofa downstairs. Then he turns her around on his lap to look at her face more clearly. "Baby, you need to tell daddy why you got scared or why you want me all the sudden."

The little 2 year old takes a deep breath and speaks in her little accent, "On Peppa Pig, they...they said kids like me are supposed to have a mummy AND a daddy. They said daddies can't love their babies like mummy's can. Me was scared you don't love me anymore." Her voice cracked saying the last bit with fresh tears running down her face and Harry has glossy eyes looking down at his distressed but beautiful mini twin. That's right. They look almost exactly alike. He thanks God every day for that because he doesn't want to look at his daughter and be reminded of a one-night stand that's a piece of shit of a mother.

"Look at me d/n. I love you so so so much. I will NEVER stop loving you." at this point he has to take a deep breath so compose his emotions, "And not all kids have mummies. There are a lot of kids who just have a daddy or some just have a mummy. But it doesn't mean I love you any less. Okay?! Don't listen to what they said in Peppa Pig. They were wrong." Finishing his speech, Harry pulls her tiny body forward and hugs her to his warm chest. He has silent tears running down his face. Both hands spread over her boney back. He thinks tonight is appropriate enough to allow her to sleep with him. She needs comfort. "Would you still like to sleep with me?" he asks in a whisper.

"Pleaseee." she responds while crying. Harry stands form the couch, turning the television off and abandoning his barley touched wine glass, and goes to his bedroom. The turns the overhead light off and walks over to the bed. Peeling the covers back, Harry and his daughter, whose on his chest, slide under the warm blankets together. Now she has just about stopped crying. Just little whimpers leaving her body, along with a few hiccups. Harry reaches over to turn the lamp off, leaving the room completely dark. He shushes his baby until her eyes slowly close and she falls asleep with her face burred in his neck and arms around his neck. Her short legs lay limp over his stomach.

Harry has a difficult time falling asleep that night. He feels sorry for his baby girl because he worries that movies and shows with two parents will make her sad and left out because she doesn't have a mummy. He just prays she will see all she'll ever need is her daddy to protect her and love her for the rest of eternity.

MASTERLIST & My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

#fluff #harrystyles #harrystylesoneshot #dad!harry #dad harry #dadharry #dadharrystyles #harry #styles #singleparent #harrystylessingleparent #comfort #terribletwos #ddm #daddydaughtermoments

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 42)

It doesn’t hurt anymore, in fact everything is very cozy. There is a warmth that spreads all over her body from her head to her toes, down her arms and up her legs, over her spine and throughout her chi points, straight to the fire chakra in her belly. Azula doesn’t think that she has ever felt so pleasantly warm. That is the first thing she acknowledges.

The second thing is the smell, it is like turnips and strawberry and luxurious incense.

The third thing she notices is the forest. A strange forest and a turnip field at its center. But the turnips are strange--they grow larger and inverse with their leaves beneath the soil and their bounty atop. The turnips themselves glow. The entire forest is lit by fungus and mosses.

Her musings are interrupted by the clicking of a tongue. “I shouldda tol’ you to be careful, girl!” She sighs and holds out a bony, disfigured hand. “Come on now, follow me, I think that you’ll want to see what I have to show you.”

“I’m dead, aren’t I? This is the Spirit World.”

“Something like that.” The old woman nods. Azula studies the woman’s lumpy face as she continues, “think of it as...nevermind, I’m not supposed to tell you that. Just follow along. I’ll show you what I need to show you and then I’ll send you on your way. Just like last time.”

Like last time… Azula’s brows furrow, “Go-Hara?”

The woman chuckles, “good to see you again, princess.” She pauses. “Sort of, I thought that you’d last longer than I…” The woman takes her deeper into the forest where both the tree and turnip fields are more plentiful.

“Go-Hara, how long did you last after I left?”

Go-Hara swats the back of her head, “manners, girl! You’ve been back at the palace for a while now, surely you remember them.”

She remembers them as well as she had forgotten how vexing Go-Hara could be during their brief time together.

“You wait here.” The old lady changes the subject. Before Azula can protest she steps into the sunlight. In its rays Azula realizes that the lumps on her flesh are no longer fleshy and bulbose but woodsy and teeming with life. Her twisted fingers are rich with leaves and mosses and elegant little gemstones. In death, the woman is more alive than most of the living.

She bursts into a spray of leaves, straw, and flutterbats. And Azula is alone again. Alone and confused.

She is dead. Very much so. She simply must be. She has seen a place like this once before. But she isn’t sad. How can she be sad when the world is so warm. When Go-Hara has become so enchanting. When she, after several long minutes, feels a familiar hand on her shoulder? She is not sad.

But he looks distraught, terribly so. “What happened, Azula?”

Her tummy flutters--so he had noticed the blue fire. He did get to know who she is before…

“You aren’t supposed to be here so soon. You didn’t…”

She shakes her head. “I went to the poles, Hajime.” She says as if that would clear everything up.

“And then what did you do?”

“I got caught in a blizzard…” It’s a story that tells itself but regardless she adds, “firebenders don’t do so well in the cold, ya know?”

She doesn’t know why he is chuckling. “Still got yer accent.” He ruffles her hair.

She swats his and away and folds her arms across her chest. “Shut up. I didn’t die just to have you…!”

She hadn’t realized that her spectral body could be shoved over until she was on the ground. “Rikka!” Atsu shouts gleefully. “Rikka you’re here!”

She plucks him off of her and sits back up.

He tugs at her arm, “c’mon we gotta go tell Ojihara! We gotta go tell Seukhyun and Min-Min and Poyang, and everyone!” He gives her another tug. “Everyone misses you, Rikka!”

Everyone misses her… She wonders if the same is true in the physical world.

It dawns upon her to look for Sokka. “Hajime have you seen any Water Tribesmen anywhere?”

He shakes his head. “Not ‘round here.”

And she is relieved. If he isn’t here then she hadn’t died for nothing. And if his father isn’t here then he will have someone to confide in. Her heart still pangs though. And then a second time when she thinks of Caihong.

“C’mon, mama!” This time his tug is more forceful.

“Give her some time, Atsu.” Hajime laughs. “She’s still a little out of it.” He takes her hand and her disoriented feeling grows. Though the sensation is not unpleasant. Quite the opposite really. She had missed his hand in hers. Missed letting him scoop her up and into his arms. It is good to be there again and better still to know that he is holding Azula and not Rikka. That he still loves Azula. She nuzzles her head against his chest.

She doesn’t know where he is taking her--perhaps he is officially leading her into the Spirit World--but she doesn’t particularly care. Especially not when Atsu is holding her hand. When they come to a stop it is at the very center of a turnip crop wherein a large tree also grows. Hajime sits her down and props her up against the tree. “I’ll be right back.”

She wants to tell him not to go, that they have only just reunited and that she doesn’t exactly want to navigate the Spirit World on her own. But Atsu crawls into her lap and most of her objections fall away. She leans back and stares at a sky so vibrant she can only barely comprehend it. The lights are still there twisting and curling in curtains of teal and purple.

Azula closes her eyes. She doesn’t open them again until the delicate smells of lily and smoke tickle her nose. Hajime carefully shifts a familiar bundle into her arms. A bundle that radiates buttercup smoke. “Alright, let’s go see Ojihara.” He says and at his words, Atsu springs from her lap.

Azula clutches the bundle tightly to her chest as she follows him along.

“So, why don’t you tell me all about your journey?”

Azula shakes her head, “it’s a sad story, I’d rather not.”

He nudges her. “There has to be something that made you happy?” He tilts his head.

And there was. There were a few things, she realizes. It was the sound of a pipa echoing through the woods under the moon. It was nighttime chatter and the crackle of a fire. It was the smell of strawberries. The feeling of wet clay smudged on her cheeks. And even at the very end there was beauty, an enticing display of other worldly light. And even at the very end there was love. She was loved. He held her until she could no longer feel his arms.

And so she tells Hajime all of it. She wonders if he will resent her for moving on. Occasionally she pauses her story to answer Atsu’s questions--mostly centered around Caihong and Bao.

They come to a bridge. Agni, she missed standing on this bridge. But the water she looks down upon are wispy and glittering in a way that she has never seen water glisten. She could swear that those lights dance beneath its surfaces in unison with those in the sky. She holds the bundle to her chest and watches its own buttercup light dance. It is so pure, so untainted...

When she looks up from the bundle she sees Go-Hara standing on the other side of the bridge.

“Have you met Go-Hara, yet?” She asks.

“The tree lady!” Astu grins. “She’s a lil’ funny.”

“You better go talk to her.” Hajime says, giving her a little nudge.

She steps forward only to have him gently pull her back. He presses a small kiss to her lips before letting her carry on. With a small smile she makes her way towards Go-Hara. Her tummy flutters, she isn’t sure what she is nervous about, only that she is vaguely apprehensive. She looks back to Hajime for reassurance but he is not there. Atsu is not there.

The bridge is crumbling and the air is growing cold. Dread fill the absence of warmth. She hugs the bundle as close to her body as she can. Closer and closer until it is sealed away within herself. It is the only warmth that she has left now as she creeps closer to Go-Hara.

“Are you ready?” Go-Hara asks.

She doesn’t think that she is.

“Come on, dear. It’ll be alright.”

She swallows. She isn’t so sure…

Where is she? What is she? What’s going on...

.oOo.

The trip home is something of a haze. Mostly he remembers the snout of a polar bear dog, it's hot breath on his neck. He remembers hearing Bato's voice, maybe uttering words of reassurance.

He remembers asking for his dad before desperately gesturing towards Azula. He had been so terrified that she was dead. She was as still as death. But he doesn't think that they would have lifted her with so much urgency and swaddled her so tightly if it were only a corpse that they were lifting. But her body was so so… He shudders. She didn’t look alive.

He doesn’t think that the image will leave his mind anytime soon. The frost on her lips and lashes. The blackish blue of her fingers. The tears frozen to her cheeks. And her eyes, her glassy eyes...she had been staring at him, unseeingly.

So why would they have bundled her up so tightly? Why would they have wasted the blankets?

“Where’s dad?” He asks again. Even a day after coming home they won’t tell him. No one wants to speak of Azula either. He is at his wits end. He doesn’t mean to snap but he needs to know, “they’re dead aren’t they!” He bellows. “Just tell me that they’re dead and get it over with!”

They’re dead and it is his fault. If only he had waited to show her the glacier. It would have been there, where would it have gone? He is so stupid and his stupidity had gotten two of the people he cares most about killed. And the third is probably angry with him for having gotten their father stuck in dreadful weather.

If she is angry, she certainly doesn’t show it. Instead she kneels down and hands him a bowl of sea prune stew. “I know that it isn’t your favorite, but it’s the healthiest and it’ll warm you up the quickest, so you better eat it.”

He has no qualms about sea prune stew, not when his stomach is rumbling something fierce. “Where’s dad? Where’s Azula?”

“Bato and Pakku are looking for dad.” Katara says softly.

“Azula?” He studies her face for a trace of sorrow or pity. He finds none and maybe it is that she really doesn’t care at all about Azula’s fate. But she would feel sorry for him, wouldn’t she? Finally she sighs, “finish your stew.”

His stomach sinks. He finds it hard to fill it with stew when it is already overbrimming with dread. But for the sake of appeasing Katara he forces down spoonful after spoonful until she decides that it is good enough and takes the bowl from him.

“Can you stand?”

“On my own or with help?” He asks.

Katara rolls her eyes and helps him to his feet. He feels numb and tingly all over and he has to lean against her for the entire trip to the medical tent. The medical tent--his belly flutters with hope.

Katara pulls back the flap and gestures him inside. “She isn’t in good condition, Sokka. Gran-Gran and I have been working on saving her fingers and toes. She hasn’t really woken up yet…”

“But she woke up?”

“I don’t know if I would call it awake.”

Sokka wanders over to Azula’s bedside. The sight of her is only slightly less disconcerting. At least there isn’t a sheen of ice coating her skin anymore at least there is some pink to her cheeks again. But she is still so deathly pale and her fingers are still unpleasant to look at.

Her body still shivers quite violently. It looks so terribly small. Small and scarred but powerful all the same.

He notices the bandages wrapped around her arm and then he makes not of his own bandages. The wolves had gotten her good but they had gotten him better. It occurs to him that his ribs, right arm, and right leg are bandaged. And that is a cue for the wounds beneath them to begin stinging. He grimaces.

“We should get back home, you need to…”

He shakes his head, “I want to stay here.”

“Sokka…”

“She didn’t leave me.”

“Sokka, she’s not even awake.”

“I know that you don’t like her but…” but what? There are so many things that he can say in her defense. So many amazing things. And yet for some reason he finishes as lamely as possible, “she took off her coat for me, Katara.”

Perhaps his finish wasn’t as terrible as he’d thought, for Katara sighs. “Go back home and get some rest, I can have Gran-Gran get you when she wakes up.”

He shakes his head. “I want to be by her now.”

Another sigh. “I guess that I can bring you your pillows.”

He musters up a grin, “you’re the best Katara.”

“And you’re the worst.” She rolls her eyes as he gets himself cozy under the covers with Azula. He carefully wiggles as close to her as he can and holds her head to his chest. Her shivers are violent enough to vibrate his own body. He holds her until they slow. Until the chattering of her teeth isn’t so audible. Until her rugged breaths become more even. It is comforting to feel them upon his chest.

He chances a glance at Katara. He wonders if she knows how much her help means to him. Wonders if she knows how much the woman she is helping means to him.

Azula gives a weak little hum.

Perhaps she isn’t anywhere near lucid and alert. And perhaps she is perilously closer to death than life but she still has a spark. And her sparks tend to blaze quite mightily in the end.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

Nothing a Lil Green Can’t Fix

→ summary: Imagine having a best friend so crazy you have to have 911 on speed dial. Turns out that you are that friend. And it's up to Park Jimin to keep you from facing disaster.

→ pairing/rating: jimin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: i love bittersweet stories 🥺 so this is basically fluff all the way but angst lurking in the background | coming of age!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of death, divorce, heartbreak (like pretty fucking sad shit), implied sex

→ wordcount: 19.2k

→ a/n: i had so much fun writing this! a HUGE thank you to all of my friends & beta readers who helped me not make a big embarrassment out of myself LOL. a round of applause and special thanks to @aaugustlee, @fangirlfeelz, @bangtansgalaxie, @byuncaa, @yunjikim021 for putting up with my unedited writing! (: ALSO a huge HUGE thank you to @justastar for this BEAUTIFUL mood board 🤩

♫: Who by Lauv (feat. BTS) | Say Something by Pentatonix | Inner Child by BTS

cr.

When Jimin was younger, he knew superheroes existed. After all, his own mother was one of them. She cooked, washed the clothes, taught Jimin the alphabet, ran the grocery errands, worked from home, read Jimin a bedtime story and tucked him into bed—which was her daily schedule. She was strong, loving and caring. The things every mother should be. She handled problems better than she handled her emotions, that woman.

Which was probably why she cheated on Jimin's father. Jimin was only five when he heard the shouts and screams coming from downstairs. He remembers how frightened he had been, gripping his pillow and trying to drown the sound of yelling with his blankets. Only shortly after that night, his mother had packed her bags and left. Jimin never saw her again.

But life wasn't too bad after that. You had shown up, after all.

Even though Jimin's once perfect family was ruined, he didn't mind too much. When he's with you, he forgets about all of his other problems.

You'd first waddled up to him in his kindergarten class with a green marker in hand. "Can you please color me green?" you'd politely asked.

If Jimin's mother taught him one thing before she walked out of his life, she'd taught him manners. So when you, a complete stranger, had been so polite about a request that didn't look like it'd do much harm, Jimin complied.

He helped you color yourself green. Halfway through the process, he'd said: "Why are we coloring you green?"

You'd laughed out loud, grinning as you announced emphatically, "BECAUSE GREEN IS THE BESTEST COLOR EVER!"

You hate it when Jimin teases you of your first encounter with him. Mainly because you had yelled out 'bestest' at the top of your lungs that day and 'bestest' is most definitely not a word. (You're kind of a grammar freak.) Not to mention, both of you had gotten into huge trouble for coloring you green that day. Jimin had cried when the teacher had scolded the two of you, but you had shrugged, patted Jimin on the back and boldly asked the teacher, "Would you like to be colored green as well?"

You were banished to the time out chair and your star got moved down two slots into the angry orange section instead of the happy green. Jimin had felt sorry for you, but you didn't seem like you cared that much. Your skin was your favorite color. How could you not be happy?

Later that same day, you'd declared Jimin your best friend. And then you had taught him your secret language so no imbecile could eavesdrop on your private conversations. Jimin thought you were the coolest human being alive.

Jimin still thinks you're the coolest human being alive.

He's thirteen and waiting for you outside of your house so both of you can walk to school together. Walking to school side by side has been a tradition ever since you were little, too. It was also a tradition that you were always a few minutes late.

You suddenly bust out of the door with half a bagel in your mouth and your hair a frenzied mess. "Bye Granny!" you yell as the door slams shut. "Let's go!" you exclaim to Jimin in your secret language as he nods in agreement. The two of you begin to walk to school.

"What are you today?" he asks as he looks over at your outfit of the day. You're wearing black cargo pants, a black mesh top with a black tank top underneath, big, black boots and metal chains around your neck. You like to keep your fashion choices interesting by having a different style every day. You've already tried prim and proper, goth, princess and tomboy. But this... Well, this was something definitely new.

"I'm a bad girl." You grin, chomping down on the rest of your breakfast and brushing your hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

Jimin frowns. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says but upon your disappointed look, he sighs. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says in the secret language.

"Am not."

"Are too."

You roll your eyes, flipping your messy hair over your shoulder. "They can dress code me. Fine. I'll go to school in my underwear the next day, then."

Jimin laughs, shaking his head. "They'll send you to juvie."

You snort, throwing your head back in a fit of laughter. "Oh, Jimin, I—" You suddenly gasp, hand flying into your pocket to fish out your favorite green permanent marker. Its name is Gilbert.

"Grammar error?" Jimin asks.

"Yeah," you sigh, shaking your head in disdain. "Over there."

There's a sign in front of a local coffee shop that painstakingly reads: free cakes everyday after four!

"They forgot the space between 'everyday,' " you huff, so disappointed that you forget to speak in the secret language. "Wait right here."

Jimin stops walking, watching you quickly stroll over to the sign and circling the word, 'everyday' with Gilbert and marking in all caps right next to it: NEEDS SPACE.

You make your way over to Jimin again, sighing. "When will people learn?"

"Not everyone is good at grammar, Y/N," Jimin reminds you. "I think you're being a bit of a grammar Nazi."

You scoff. "So what if I am a grammar Nazi? Do you think it's acceptable to parade around town using the wrong 'everyday?' " You throw your hands in the air for dramatic emphasis.

"I mean, everybody makes mistakes," Jimin tries.

You huff, crossing your arms. "Yeah, like your outfit," you grumble. "You forgot to hook a strap of your overalls over your shoulder."

"Hey!" Jimin says. "It's fashion!"

"It's ridiculous," you counter. "It's like you're trying to show off your man chest."

"Well, you're trying to show off your girl chest."

You gasp, gazing down at your black mesh top before realizing Jimin's actually right—this stupid top does expose a lot of you to the public's scrutiny. "Don't look there, idiot!" you say. "Perve."

"What am I supposed to do? Not look at it?"

"Yes!" you say very indignantly. "A true gentleman would not look!"

"But it's right in front of my face!"

"You know what, Jimin? You can walk to school alone!" You start dashing away from Jimin, your heavy boots thumping on the concrete.

"Wait! Y/N!"

Though you might've won the fight at that moment, Jimin becomes the real winner when you come out of your house the next day wearing a turtleneck that covers your whole upper half and modest boot cut jeans with white sneakers.

"What are you today?" Jimin teases in the secret language.

"Shut up," you mutter. "Let's go."

Jimin happily obliges, skipping his way to school as you grumble, following right behind him.

Sometimes Jimin wonders what he would do without you. You were the angelic figure that had swept him off his feet when he needed a good distraction from reality. You had stepped in when his mother had stepped out. And he loves you no matter how weird you are.

"Jimin?" you ask, your head propped against his chest as his arm wraps around you. Both of you are staring up at the blue sky with sunglasses on.

"Hmm?"

"I think I can speak to the weather," you confess in the secret language, grinning wildly as you watch the clouds shift in the blue sky. "It was probably my fourteenth birthday gift from the universe, you know?"

Jimin loves how you never grew up. You were the same Y/N he knew in kindergarten with a big imagination and overflowing creativity—only smarter, taller and more beautiful.

"You can speak to the weather?" Jimin asks.

You nod. "I'm making it sunny right now."

"Really?"

You snuggle into his chest, clinging to his warmth as you laugh. "I control it with my emotions. I'm so happy right now that the sun can't help but shine upon us."

Jimin's heartbeat quickens as you clutch onto his t-shirt, but he tries to play it off. "And why are you so happy right now?"

"It's summertime!" you exclaim, suddenly jumping up and out of Jimin's arms. "We'll be in high school this year!! And you know how much I love hanging out with my best friend."

Jimin smiles, though he wonders if you'll ever love him the same way he loves you.

"You know," you sigh as you trudge down the steps of your apartment building in a large green raincoat and white boots with a glazed donut in your hand. "I'm feeling pretty horrible today. I think it's going to rain."

Jimin nods as he looks up at the sky. Sure enough, the rain clouds are settling in, painting the sky a dark gray. "That's not a good way to start off the first day of high school."

"It really isn't," you sigh.

"Is it your granny?" Jimin whispers in the secret language as both of you begin to walk to your new school.

You flinch. "She's just... she's not feeling too well, you know?"

"I'm sorry," Jimin says. "Do you know what it is?"

"She won't fucking tell me," you groan, handing your donut to Jimin. "I don't want it. Do you?"

It's Jimin's favorite food: a glazed donut, so he takes it and munches on it. Something tells him that you saved it just for him. "Thanks," he says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..." You shake your head, your lips that had been set in a stern lip suddenly curving up to reveal a bright smile. "Sorry, I'm totally killing the mood. We should be excited! High school, right?? Oh my god, do you think we're all going to dance in the gym like we're all in it together??"

"That stuff only happens in the movies," Jimin chuckles as he finishes the last of your donut. But upon seeing your disappointed face, he offers: "No, we'll definitely dance around in the gym singing songs from High School Musical."

"That's more like it!" you exclaim.

Crazily enough, by the time the two of you reach the new school, the rain clouds have disappeared from the sky. Jimin looks over at you, who had taken off your raincoat to reveal a rather summery green t-shirt dress. Maybe you really can control the weather with your emotions.

Jimin admires how you don't give two flying fucks about social standards. You're brave enough to be yourself, to stray from society and not conform to stupid high school stereotypes. You're everything that he isn't. And in sophomore year in high school, you're wilder than ever before. Frankly, he thinks you're what everyone wants to be but is too afraid to be.

"Did you study for the AP chem test?" Jimin asks as he fidgets with pages and pages of notes in his hands.

You snort, tugging your favorite green jacket around yourself. "No. Why would I? It's just a test."

"But it's an important test," Jimin insists, eyes glazing over as he half listens to you and half crams last-minutely. "Last test to raise your grade before the final."

"My time's important too," you laugh. "I don't regret those six hours I spent reading yesterday. You know, I woke up so late today that I had to wear my pajamas to school."

Jimin glances down at your sweatpants and looks up at your tousled hair.

"Yeah," you say, "only had time to put on the nearest jacket. But it's kind of hot, isn't it?"

You're right. Ever since you helped nurse your granny back into top-notch health, the weather was perfect—always sunny and just slightly breezy. It matches your mood.

You shrug off your green jacket, folding it away. When Jimin notices your shirt underneath, he gasps out loud.

"Y/N!"

"What?"

"You're wearing those pajamas!" he exclaims in the secret language, frantically. "Do you wanna borrow my t-shirt or something?"

"What? No!" you cock your head. "What's so bad about my t-shirt right now?"

"Y/N, you're literally wearing a shirt with the periodic table on it. We're taking a chem test!"

"Oh, you're so funny, Jimin," you say, shaking your head. "It's just a t-shirt. No one will care."

Fast forward ten minutes later when your AP chem teacher calls you up before you sit down with your test and tells you that you need to put a jacket over your shirt.

"But Mr. Levitt!" you protest. "I don't want to be in a stuffy jacket when I'm taking a test!"

Mr. Levitt sighs, but after an intense one-minute staring contest in which you claim victory, he agrees to turn on the air conditioning. Silently, everyone thanks you (it's a hot day, after all) as you return to your seat with your jacket covering your shirt and your eyes sparkling with their usual mischief. Jimin thinks you might've elaborately planned this whole scheme out. Mr. Levitt is infamous for being a total tightwad on the AC, so maybe you thought you had to do something about it instead of studying for the test.

Naturally, you proceeded to completely bomb the chemistry exam.

"Ugh," Jimin groans the next day as you step out of your home with an apple in your mouth. "The scores are out. I got a 92%," he huffs. "That's barely gonna raise my grade."

You laugh out loud, tossing Jimin another apple that he gratefully catches. "I got a 43%. Deal with it."

"You're serious."

"I'm always serious," you giggle, twirling around in your rather nice-looking outfit. Jimin notices you took extra time to curl your hair and apply a sheer lipgloss on your lips. "Besides, you know, that test had so many grammatical errors that I couldn't possibly focus on the problems!" You scoff, shaking your head disdainfully as your eyes gloss over to remember the horror you saw the day before. "I had to whip out Gilbert and fix all the errors, you know? I didn't even get to look at half the questions on the test. But I'm pretty sure I got everything else right, though," you confidently announce. "Totally worth it. Mr. Levitt needs to learn a thing or two about dangling modifiers."

"But Y/N, you can't fail a class!" Jimin protests. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that you earned your 43% after a 13% curve—that in reality, you'd really gotten a 30%.

"I'm not failing," you giggle, "yet."

"What am I gonna do with you?"

You shrug, biting at your healthy breakfast and chewing slowly. "Anyways, do you like my outfit?" you ask in your secret language, totally changing the subject.

Jimin warily eyes your pretty skirt and button-down top. His face heats up just a little bit, but he forces himself to look away. "Why'd you dress up so much? You're going to fall down wearing those heels."

You roll your eyes so hard Jimin can see the whites of your eyes. "Google Earth always takes pictures, my friend," you sing. "If people see me walking down this street on that app, I want to look fabulous."

Jimin's learned a long time ago from experience to not believe everything you say. (One time when the two of you were six years old, you told Jimin if he waited in his garage at night without falling asleep, he'd see his father's old, battered Hyundai turn into a chivalrous robot—this was after you had watched Transformers with him at home—and Jimin had stupidly believed you. What followed was him staying up for three nights in a row, waiting for the car to morph in Optimus Prime. He was almost going to stay up for a fourth night until you had to put an end to his madness by telling him you were joking.) And there were many, many more times your large imagination had convinced Jimin something that wasn't real, was. But now, he knows when to take your words with a grain of salt.

Even so, the next day, he dresses up extra nicely. Just in case Google Earth is taking photos.

You pass sophomore year with mediocre grades, but by now, Jimin knows you don't really care much about your transcript.

Junior year is rumored to be the hardest of all in high school, a rumor that turns out to be quite true. Well, except for you.

Jimin's reading for his huge physics exam on his bed while you're propped up against the headboard, legs tangled absentmindedly with his. The two of you had been in that position for hours. Normally, you can't sit in one spot for more than forty-five minutes, but you must be concentrating on something because you'd been way too still and quiet for way too long.

"Hey, Y/N?" Jimin calls in the secret language. "You good?"

"Hmm," you hum. "Mhm."

When Jimin looks up, he sees you sewing. You must've gotten that sewing kit splayed before you from your granny. It's really endearing how much you love her and how much you're willing to do for her. She's the only family you've got left around here, and she's the one that has taken care of you since you were very young. Your granny is a lot like you, too. Jimin's heard from you that she likes watching extreme sports and hopes to become a three-time gold Olympic medalist snowboarder by the time she's dead (though she hasn't won a single snowboarding contest in her life). She loves fashion and enjoys taking you out to shop. She likes to preach that grades do not define intelligence. (It seems as though you've had that soaked in your brain for a very long time.) Her husband, Gilbert, was a grammar freak like her, but he passed away before you were born. You named your permanent green marker after him.

You don't like to talk about it, but your granny hasn't been in great health in the past few years. Jimin knows how much it's putting a strain on you, yet you insist that everything's completely fine before suggesting to embark on another wild journey.

"Are you sewing something on your favorite shorts?" Jimin asks, setting down his physics book.

You nod, tongue poking out of your lips as you concentrate. "It's a QR code."

"Oh, really?" Jimin becomes interested as he scoots closer to you so that your arms are touching.

"Yeah, so when I wear these scandalously short shorts and guys are checking out my ass, they'll see this QR code instead and dare to scan it, you know?" you smile proudly at yourself, setting down your sewing project as you lean again Jimin's shoulder. "Wanna know what comes up when you scan it?" you ask in the secret language.

"Yeah."

"Information about colorectal cancer."

"What?"

"Colorectal cancer. Colon cancer, Jimin." He notices the way your lips tremble slightly as the words spill out of your mouth. You're struggling to keep a straight face.

"Oh, Y/N... Your granny—"

"Yes," you cry out, tears starting to well up in your eyes. "Stage four, Jimin. Fucking stage four. She has about a year left."

"Y/N..."

You move in to hug Jimin, crying into his shirt as he wraps his arms around your waist, letting you cry in silence.

You don't like to cry. Jimin's only seen you cry one other time in his twelve years of friendship with you—when your granny had her first cancer scare a couple years back. To see you breaking down in front of him like this hurts him more than words can describe. You're usually so resilient; you wear a fierce smile on your face even when times are tough. But you'd have to take off your happy mask at some point.

He lets you sob into his chest, warm hands tracing circles on your back in hopes of soothing you. He never knows the right thing to say, unlike you, so he stays quiet.

It takes a few minutes but your sobs dwindle to soft sniffles, then to complete silence. Jimin holds you in his arms without complaint, savoring your warmth, hoping that just embracing you can help.

You pull away, wiping off the residue of your tears on your face with the back of your sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Jimin," you whisper, your hands tracing the wet patches of your tears on Jimin's shirt. "I think... I need to go home."

He doesn't stop you when you pack up your sewing kit and leave without another word. And he hates himself for being so cowardly.

But the next day, you come out of your house with a bright smile on your face. You're wearing the shorts with the QR code sewn on the back, proudly flaunting them to Jimin. He does everything so his eyes don't linger around your ass; in the end, he just looks away entirely.

You laugh when you see him blush, linking your arms together as you march to school. The sun's shining brightly today, but the streets are wet with the hard rain that had poured last night.

All too soon, senior year rolls by with summer just around the corner. You and Jimin make use of your lax time, no longer needing to worry about grades or academic productivity.

"You know, everyone has one deep fear," you confess, snuggling up against Jimin on the sofa in your room. "You know what mine is, right?"

Jimin nods. "Losing your granny."

"Good. Well, I think I know what yours is."

"Really?" Jimin asks, letting you rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair.

"You're afraid of being left alone," you whisper. "You're especially afraid someone you love will leave you."

"Hmm..." Jimin hums. "Like my mother?"

"Yeah. But me too."

"You?" Jimin asks, bewildered, suddenly sitting up and moving away from you to stare into your eyes. "You're leaving?"

"Hey, relax," you giggle, shaking your head. "I'm not leaving forever. I'm just... I didn't tell you but... Granny passed away a few days ago. You know when it was raining really hard that night? Yeah, well that was because I was crying nonstop. She'd always wanted to be buried in Hawaii because that's where she met Gilbert. I'll be in Hawaii for a week—"

"Why don't you tell me anything until the last minute?" Jimin sighs. "You could've told me your granny passed away the day it happened. Why are you telling me now?" He struggles to keep his voice from trembling too hard. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her...

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep a straight face. "Because I knew I'd break down if I told you the day it happened."

"Y/N, it's okay to cry..."

"No, Jimin. It's not. I'm supposed to comfort you. I'm supposed to be the strong one that doesn't bat an eyelash when trauma comes her way. I'm supposed to be resilient, Jimin," you sigh. "I refuse to cry."

Jimin doesn't know what to say.

"I know," you say, leaning forward to grasp Jimin's warm hands. "I'm so sorry. I told you we'd go to the senior prom together. I'm so, so sorry, Jimin." You're smiling to reassure him, but your façade isn't fooling anyone—thunder clouds boom outside of your house, then the rain begins to fall. "I'm sorry, Jimin," you say again. "I want to make it up to you somehow."

Jimin had completely forgotten about going to prom until you had brought it up. You'd made those plans during freshman year, and both of you had been excited about it for all of high school. Now, it looks like those plans will be ruined. But Jimin knows how much you love your granny. She means way more than a silly prom night to you. He'll have to figure something out for himself. "You don't have to make anything up to me, Y/N," Jimin says. "I'm not going to prom, then, I guess."

"But you've been waiting for it since we were in ninth grade," you protest, shaking your head. "You were going to wear a green suit to match my green dress, remember?" you say in your secret language, a small smile playing on your lips. "I can get someone to go with you."

"It's fine, Y/N," Jimin says, shaking his head. "My dad wants me to start thinking about my future, anyway. I don't think he'll appreciate me going out without knowing what I want to study in college."

You nod. "Oh, okay, then."

"You're not going to college, are you?" Jimin whispers.

"I can't, Jimin," you shrug, a fake smile plastered on your lips. "I got a job at a restaurant as a waitress. I think I'll manage financially. You know, I think you should go into engineering or some pristine shit. You're too good at math and science."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jimin says as you cuddle into his chest again. He's known you for thirteen years now and he's never seen you this let down in his life. You're struggling to hide the gargantuan amount of pain you're feeling, but the weather is reflecting your emotions too well. Jimin never knows how to comfort you—partly because you're rarely upset, but also because he's scared you might leave him if he says the wrong words.

You're right.

Jimin's terrified of losing someone he loves. He's scared that you'll leave him one day.

Your senior year in high school is the last time Jimin sees you sad. It takes you a few months to adjust to a life without your granny, but after that, you jumped right back up and out of your misery. The years rolled on through delightful days and unforgettable nights. Both of you are 24 now and it seems like nothing has changed.

Jimin waits for you to come out of your house in your work uniform, and you do just a few minutes after he arrives.

"Hey!" you beam at him. "Hope you didn't sleep too late studying or whatnot."

Jimin laughs as the two of you begin to walk to your workplace. "I actually pulled an all-nighter studying for the mid-term," he shrugs, pointing at the dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Aww, Jimin," you coo. "I'm kind of glad I never went to college. Much less try for a master's degree. After your classes, wanna meet me during my night shift?"

"Sure," Jimin agrees. His eyes glance at your petite figure, admiring the bright look on your face and your sparkling eyes before realizing what you were wearing. "Oh, Y/N!"

"What?" you giggle. "Do you like it?"

"The manager isn't going to be happy about that, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

Your work uniform was black and red—a modest black dress with a cinched-in waist and short sleeves and a red waist apron. It was a uniform that Jimin thought made you look gorgeous, but he knew how much you hated it. You'd complained several times that the outfit was too dark and gloomy and that it made you look like a sexy vampire. And you do not like sexy vampires. (Jimin thinks that's because you always rooted for Jacob the "sexy werewolf" in the hit book series, The Twilight Saga.) But what could you do about it? The black and red uniform matched the colors of the logo of the restaurant you worked in: The Black Dress.

Yet it seems like you do not give a fuck.

You're now wearing a bright green skirt with a green fanny pack around your hips, and the white pirate blouse you bought on a shopping spree sale last Halloween. Your red waist apron is tied around your neck so it flows behind you like a cape. And to top it all off, there are green clips in your hair.

"I think I look outstanding!" you chirp, twirling around. "I'm still wearing my apron so I think I'll be fine."

"Y/N... You work at The Black Dress... You can't not be wearing a black dress!" Jimin cries. "You're going to get fired!"

"Nah, I'm not," you snort. "I think the new manager has a soft spot for me. He'll really like my rather innovative work uniform!"

"What if I come over during your night shift to find out that you're no longer working there?" Jimin protests. "How are you so sure he'll be fine with you not following the dress code?"

"Oh, Jimin," you giggle, shaking your head. "Live a little! Break a few fucking rules, will you? The manager and I are good friends. I'll be fine. We're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Jimin scoffs, "if you still have your job by then."

"I will!" you protest. "Do you wanna bet?"

"What? No!"

Jimin knows when you threaten to make a bet, you're always 100% sure you're going to win. He had lost a lot of money before he’d figured that out.

"See? I'll be fine, Jimin," you say, stopping your walking when you come in front of the restaurant. "Good luck on that mid-term, all right?" You give him one of your best grins, hitting his back encouragingly as you begin to walk backward towards the entrance of the restaurant. "You're going to ace it!" you yell in the secret language.

Jimin smiles brightly. He knows that your words of encouragement will do wonders to his score like always. "Thanks!" he calls. "Bye!"

You wave your arms frantically, nearly tripping on a rock as you do so (walking backwards is not your thing). With final grins exchanged, you head into the restaurant. Jimin watches as you leave, unable to hide the fierce blush of his cheeks. It's been almost two decades and he's failed to tell you that he loves you.

Meanwhile, you sashay into the restaurant, twirling around in your modified work uniform. "Hello, everyone!" you announce in your best singing voice.

"Good morning, Y/N," your manager offers, smiling at you as he walks up to greet you.

He's a handsome man, you must admit. In his early thirties, intelligent, good with his words and rather caring.

"It's just me for now," he chuckles. "I guess the others will come later."

"Wow, I can't believe I'm the first one here, Namjoon," you laugh. "I'm literally always the last. Isn't this the first?"

Your manager laughs as well. "This is a special day then, isn't it?"

"Every day is a special day. Is it not?"

"That's very true," Namjoon agrees. "Is that why you decided to ditch your work uniform, Y/N?" he teases. "I must say the modified version looks quite nice. Someone has a penchant for the color green doesn't she?"

"You caught me!" you exclaim, raising your hands up in mock guilt. "My best friend thought I'd get fired or something. He's such a plain Jane," you giggle. "But I love him though. He's coming over later during my night shift. Is that okay?"

"Of course that's okay," Namjoon smiles. "I thought he was your boyfriend. Doesn't he walk you here every day?"

You laugh so hard you snort. "Boyfriend? Boyfriend?! God, no! We've been friends for nearly two decades, Namjoon! I think one time we even showered together. We're literally best friends."

"Good," Namjoon grins. "Because I've been wanting to ask you out for a while."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. When are you free?" he asks.

"Hmm..." you think. "Well, I'm supposed to have a movie night with Jimin on Friday. On Saturday, Jimin and I are supposed to watch the water fountain show we bought tickets for like seven months ago... On Sunday I'm supposed to sleep over at his place so we can wake up on Monday at the same place, you know, so it'll be easier for Jimin to walk me here... I think I'm okay Sunday. As long as I get to Jimin's home by 8!"

Namjoon laughs at your long explanation, looking at you fondly. "I'll take you out on a cafe date. Then we can watch a movie and have an early dinner. How does that sound?"

"I like it!" you giggle. "I haven't been on a date in... damn, I've never been on a date."

"Really?" Namjoon asks, slightly bewildered. "No one's taken you out on a date? You?"

"Yeah!" you blush. "Why? Am I date-worthy?"

"You're very date-worthy, Y/N," Namjoon laughs. "Maybe everyone thought you were already taken. You know, you spend a lot of time with your best friend."

You snort. "Jimin and I hang out all the time but I never once thought of anything as a date. He probably thinks of me like I'm his sister!"

"Good, good," Namjoon grins. "So he won't be mad that I'll have to steal you away for a day."

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Jimin never gets mad. The last time he got slightly irritated with me was in senior year of high school."

"Great!" Namjoon says. "I'll see you at the cafe next door at 2?"

"Sure!" you exclaim.

"Everything's planned, then," Namjoon smiles. "Well, we have fifteen minutes left until the restaurant opens. Why don't you get dressed in your actual uniform? We have extras in the back, okay? Maybe I'll see you around today! I'm going to go check up on our chefs."

"Okay!" you nod. "Bye!" When he's out of view, you have to duck your head to hide your blushing red cheeks. When was the last time a man was interested in you? Never. You're not going to mess up on a perfect chance to date Kim Namjoon who's tall, handsome, intelligent and diligent. You don't think you can wait to meet Jimin during your night shift to tell him such good news. You might just accidentally text him right now! But you can't. Jimin's taking a test and you would be evil to distract him like that.

You've awaited your fairytale romance for 24 fucking years. Maybe you've finally found the Gilbert to your granny. Something about Kim Namjoon feels right.

You squeal giddily as you flee to the back counter of the restaurant, finding the extra black dress there as Namjoon said. You skip to the bathroom to get changed, folding up your modified uniform and stashing it somewhere in the back counter. Your radiance is obvious during your day shift—you get three times the amount of tips than usual. Namjoon even notices and compliments you on your diligence!

Usually, when your day shift is over by 4 p.m., you like to sit in the corner of the restaurant with a fresh magazine in hand and use Gilbert to correct all the embarrassing grammatical errors until it's time for your night shift. But today, Namjoon sits down across from you (because his work for today was over) and he asks what you're doing.

You spend the next two hours until your night shift explaining to Namjoon the intricacies of correct grammar. He seems to enjoy every minute of it. When you have to go back to work, Namjoon promises to see you tomorrow, which was Friday and wishes you the best on your night shift. You let out a dreamy sigh when he leaves.

How did you not notice such a great man like Namjoon was right in front of your face? Granted, it's only been a few weeks since he started working here, but still.

You're usually just a little bit tired (crazy, right? for such an energetic person like you) by the time you start your second shift, but you feel more energized than ever. By the time Jimin comes into the restaurant, you're serving the last customers and cleaning up the tables and pushing in the chairs.

"Hey!" you cry, rushing in to hug your friend. "How was the mid-term?"

"It was great!" Jimin beams. "You've been in a really good mood today, haven't you? The sun was out the whole day. Huh, and you're not fired, I see. Someone made you put on the uniform?"

"Yeah, Namjoon," you say dreamily. When Jimin makes a blank face, you clarify, "my manager."

"Oh? He wasn't mad?"

"No! He wasn't!" you giggle. "He asked me out on a date, Jimin! And then he told me to change into my uniform, but that's beside the point! We're supposed to meet on Sunday at the cafe next door at 2! This is my first date! You have to help me with what to wear!"

Jimin plasters on a giant grin for you, though his insides crumble. "That's great, Y/N! Maybe I can come over later and help you choose what to wear. Are you thinking of making it official? It sounds like you really like him..."

"I don't know yet," you hum. "But I know he's a great guy! You know how well I read people, right? He really likes Gilbert too! God, I think he's already gonna be my prince!"

Jimin nods. "Wow," he mumbles. "Do you know him very well?"

"Well, I know that his name is Kim Namjoon. And he's the day-time manager for The Black Dress," you say, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to think. "He has blonde hair... uh, he's tall and he likes to wear all black!"

"You don't know him very well, do you?" Jimin accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y/N, how do you like him so much if you barely know him? Is it because he expressed interest in you? You can't just go liking people back just because they like you... You need to make judgments for yourself."

You pout, shaking your head. "It's not like that," you say. "And I made my judgment already! I like Kim Namjoon, Jimin. Besides, I will get to know him. Now, I'm gonna go close up the restaurant so sit tight, all right?"

Jimin nods, grumbling under his breath about how quickly you were moving on to like someone you barely gave a second look at. He does admit that he's a bit jealous... Who was this Kim Namjoon who just decided to waltz into your life and steal you away from him? Who was he to ask you out just based on physical attraction? Jimin can't believe you were falling for a guy you basically just met. But he does admit that you've always wanted some sort of fairytale romance. Is it too late for him to confess now?

"Why are you thinking so hard?" you giggle, making Jimin jump away from you from the suddenness. "I closed up the restaurant. Shall we go home?" You hold out your hand for Jimin to take, which he does after just a bit of hesitance.

"I was not thinking very hard," Jimin says.

"Oh, really?" you snort, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. "You were thinking so hard, a vein popped out in your forehead! A penny for your thoughts?"

When you hold out an actual penny for him to take, Jimin laughs, shaking his head. You huff, putting the penny back in your pocket. "It was nothing, Y/N."

"Wow, I didn't know nothing made you think so hard you looked angry," you tease. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Yeah, of course," Jimin sighs, squeezing your hand and struggling to hide his actual feelings.

Damn. If he could control the weather with his emotions, it would be raining right now.

Jimin knew you would never be one to put your dates over your friends. That fact was confirmed for him when even though you got Namjoon's phone number, you never texted him when you were hanging out with Jimin—which was practically all the time.

Your Friday movie night was a blast, as usual. The two of you cuddled up on the couch and completely lost it over a hysterical comedy. And the Saturday hangout was even better with the majestic water fountain show. When the two of you separated that night, you ended up FaceTiming in each of your houses. Like Jimin had promised, he helped you pick out a cute but modest outfit for tomorrow—something that enhanced your best features (which Jimin thought is everything) and something that would make it very obvious that green is your color. You went to bed smiling because you were excited about your date with Namjoon tomorrow. Jimin went to bed smiling because you were the last person he saw before going to bed.

On Sunday morning, Jimin woke up, texted you to have fun on your date and began to study for his advanced thermodynamics class, which was a whole fucking pain in the ass. He skipped lunch, got a snack around early evening and waited for you to come over while he watched some kitten Youtube videos.

You were supposed to be back from your date by 8 p.m. It is promptly 8:07 and Jimin begins to get a bit nervous. Should he text? Call? 8:07 is such an ambiguous time. If he calls now, he'll sound clingy, like he's trying to interrupt your date with Namjoon. Well, Jimin wouldn't mind doing that, but he doesn't want to hurt your feelings and burst your idealistic bubble. Perhaps he should wait.

You're always late to everything, anyways. If Jimin wasn't in your life, you would've been late to every single day of school from kindergarten to high school. Hell, if he hadn't banged on your door for you to come out on graduation day, you might've never graduated high school. Maybe Gilbert fell out of your flimsy dress pocket and you're looking for it? (It's happened before so it could surely happen again.)

Alas, the door of Jimin's small apartment swings open and you practically skip through, giggling and twirling around. "Sorry I'm late!" you say, rushing over to where Jimin was slouched on the couch and cuddling up next to him.

You smell faintly masculine. Jimin struggles not to make an unflattering face—that was no doubt Namjoon's cologne. He wonders what base Namjoon took you to tonight. Did you kiss him? Did you make out with him? Have... sex?

He shudders thinking about it.

No. That couldn't have happened. They were in public places the whole time. Unless...

He glances over at you who's stripping off your jewelry, socks and jacket. You're too busy tying up your hair into a messy bun to notice Jimin staring at your lips. Had Namjoon kissed you goodbye?

Jimin shames himself for having these thoughts. He should be happy for you. Besides, you weren't even that late. It's only 8:10.

"You wouldn't believe why I was like, ten minutes late," you giggle, stretching out your legs and sitting in an unflattering position that hikes your dress up to your mid-thigh. Jimin struggles not to look down.

"Really?" he asks. "What happened?"

You snort. "Okay, so—wait do you have my makeup remover wipes here? And can I borrow some sweats? I totally forgot to bring a change of clothes. Sorry!" you say.

Jimin nods. "Yeah, the wipes are in my bedroom where you last left them and um, you can find some of my t-shirts in the first drawer of the cabinet next to my bed."

"Okay, thanks, Jimin!" you giggle, quickly bouncing up from your spot. When you see that Jimin's still glued to his seat, you laugh. "I can't tell you the story when you're that far away from me! Get up! I'll tell you the story while I change."

Jimin flushes at the thought. "Y-Yeah, okay," he stutters. You tug him into his own bedroom, snatching the makeup wipes from the nightstand and beginning to wipe off your light makeup. Jimin sits down on his bed, cross-legged, attentively waiting for you to start your story.

"Okay, anyways, Joon—"

"Joon?"

"Yeah, it's like my little nickname for Namjoon, isn't it adorable? Where was I? Right!" you mutter to yourself as you furiously scrub off the remnants of your mascara. "We were coming out of the movie theater, right? I found out Gilbert wasn't in my pocket! And I was just about to turn around to tell Joon my misfortune but he was already facing me and yelling, 'I FORGOT MY PHONE!' "

You take a moment to skillfully aim the wipe into Jimin's trash bin, squealing when it goes in completely clean. Jimin claps politely for you.

"Thank you," you bow dramatically. "Oh yeah, where was I?" You begin to make your way towards Jimin's bedroom cabinet, pulling out the first drawer and inspecting your choices of nightwear and sticking your hand in the neatly folded clothes to rummage through and pick your poison. "So, naturally, Joon and I went back into the theater and—ooh, Jimin you have a few condoms in here! Are you getting it on these days?"

"Y/N!" Jimin shrieks, scrambling over and snatching the condom you were teasingly holding out before chucking it into his closet and slamming the door shut. "T-That's private."

"Oh, really?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Come on, Y/N. I'm a virgin, you know that."

You raise your eyebrows. "It looks like you're tired of being one though," you tease.

Jimin can't look you in the eyes. His face burns with humiliation. He can't possibly explain why he had bought those condoms. Back when he was an undergraduate, he had been desperate to get over his feelings for you—so desperate, in fact, that he had purchased his first batch of contraceptives to have sex with other women and completely forget about you. But he never had the guts to try. How could he? When he was so hopefully in love with you that he couldn't imagine himself being sexually active with someone else. Er, not that he sees himself being sexually active with you. But—

I need to stop thinking about this.

"Aw, Jiminie," you coo. "It's okay to be a virgin," you say in your secret language as you sit down on the bed with one of Jimin's favorite black t-shirts in hand. Jimin believes you must've thought he was pissed off at you for teasing him about being inexperienced. "I'm a virgin too, right?" you say. "I'm waiting for my prince!"

Jimin breathes a sigh of relief. So you hadn't had sex with Namjoon tonight. For some reason, he feels much better after hearing that. "You know what, Y/N?" he smiles. "I'm waiting for my princess."

You smile so bright it lights up the room. "Good," you say. "Let's get married on the same day, then. A double wedding in a castle far, far away!" you place a dramatic hand over your forehead. "Now! Where was I for the hundredth time? Oh, yeah! Joon and I went back to the theater," you say, starting to unzip your dress.

Jimin's eyes turn wide and he quickly turns his back towards you, making you laugh.

"I'm not putting on a strip show," you giggle. "You don't have to be so embarrassed about it!"

"I-I, uh, I'll just give you some privacy. Tell me when you're done," Jimin manages to choke out.

"So gentlemanly. How do you not have a girlfriend yet?" you chuckle to yourself, sliding the sleeves of the dress of your shoulders and dragging the fabric off of your body. "Okay, okay, okay. I need to focus. Anyways, Joon and I went back into the movie theater and the first thing we did was to go back into the room where we watched the movie—great film, by the way—and we literally scrounged around everywhere for my poor Gilbert and Joon's phone! But to no avail! It was as if both of them disappeared!"

You toss your dress on the floor, unclip your bra and tug Jimin's shirt on in smooth motions.

"Jimin, you can look now," you say.

He turns around, ears slightly pink and eyes averted. Quickly, Jimin sits down on his bed, across from you. "You can continue your story," he offers.

You grin. "So, Joon was panicking at this point because he lost his phone. And I was about to burst into tears because I lost Gilbert, you know?"

Jimin nods in response.

"Yeah, so I figured I'd have to be late coming to your apartment because I can't just leave without Gilbert! When I reached into my purse to get my phone to tell you of my misfortune, guess what happened. Guess! Guess!"

Jimin pouts. "Can't you just tell me?"

You roll your eyes. "I was building the story up just so you could literally guess what happened with no problem," you huff. "Fine, then. I reached into my purse to get my phone and I pulled out Namjoon's instead! Turns out, before the movie, Joon was holding all the snacks and he dropped his phone. So, you know, I picked it up and couldn't give it back to him so I just put it in my purse!"

Jimin smiles. "And you forgot you put it in your purse?"

"Well, yeah!" you giggle. "I was so worried about Gilbert!"

"Did you find him?" Jimin asks.

You snort. "Is that even a question, Jimin? I wouldn't be this happy right now if I hadn't. You'd never guess where Gilbert was, Jimin."

"So there's no point in me trying, right?" he responds, teasingly. But when he sees your death glare, he sighs. "Fine. Was Gilbert in Namjoon's purse?"

"HA!" you exclaim. "Good one! But no, it was in my right pocket."

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin says, leaning back on his bed. "You only checked your left pocket before you declared Gilbert missing, huh?"

"Yessir!" you laugh. "Joon and I got a good laugh out of it. He told me I'm really silly! And, get this, he said I'm a natural!"

"Really?" Jimin says. "A natural at what?"

"Dating!" you squeal. "He told me I'm naturally cuddly and adorable and kissable and—god, my heart exploded in my chest!!!"

Kissable???

"But I told him I don't kiss on first dates—not that I've never been on another one... You know? Like you need to give them something to long for!" you laugh, spreading out on Jimin's bed while looking up at his ceiling. "I read that from a romance novel somewhere. And it worked! He asked me out on our second date during our first date! Am I amazing or what?"

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

"Oh, Jimin," you mock right back. "Anyways, shall we go to bed early? My princess beauty sleep is waiting!" you sing, making your way to Jimin's bathroom. "I'm gonna wash up, okay?"

"All right," Jimin answers, getting up to turn off the lights of his room. He crawls back into his bed, waiting for you to join him. A few minutes later, you do, tucking yourself in on the left side of the bed and snuggling Jimin's blankets as you sigh out.

No matter how many times he's slept beside you, Jimin feels like his heart will beat out of his chest every time. It feels wrong, to sleep in the same bed as adults when you're in nothing but a platonic relationship with him. Yet something about it feels so right... And you've been doing it since you were kids and upholding tradition is pretty important to both of you.

Jimin double-checks to make sure he isn't pulling the blanket covers too hard. He doesn't want you left with anything to stay warm through the night.

"Goodnight, Jimin," you whisper.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispers back.

And he drifts off to sleep. Only in his dreams can his longing to be with you come true.

Jimin is always your priority. You have a lot of friends, but when it comes to who you're willing to spend the most time with, it's Jimin. And it's always been like that—since that one fateful day in kindergarten to now. Er, kind of.

These days, your priorities may have shifted just a tiny bit.

It's been like that ever since Namjoon took you out on that stupid fifth date, which was the date that marked the official start of your romantic relationship with him. Jimin had sulked in his bed that whole day when you'd first texted him the news. But later, he forced himself to get up and have a cup of coffee with you in the cafe next to your workplace. He feigned a smile for you and told you that Namjoon was one lucky man.

And he was.

Now that Namjoon is officially your boyfriend, Jimin had to share you with him. It's unfair. Jimin's known you for nearly two decades, but Kim Namjoon decided to waltz into your life one day and win you over in less than a month. What did Namjoon have that Jimin didn't??

But no matter how bitter your relationship with Namjoon made Jimin feel, he hid it away from you. Besides, you are practically glowing these days. Whatever Namjoon tells you makes you absolutely radiant. And Namjoon must be a good man because you come over to Jimin's apartment after every date happy and bubbly like it was your first. So he's definitely treating you right.

You don't get to spend as much time with Jimin anymore, too. Sometimes, Jimin asks if you're available for lunch or dinner but half the time you've already made reservations with your boyfriend. Yet you always make sure you see Jimin at least five days a week (two days less than what was before, but it's a small price Jimin's willing to pay for your heightened happiness).

Since your birthday is coming up, Jimin's been putting the finishing touches on your present—the one he's been preparing since the day after your last birthday. This year, you've already made him a short little flipbook (that you drew yourself) about the first time the two of you had first met for Jimin's birthday. The gift was rather nostalgic and it had almost made him cry. Jimin hopes the present he makes for you this year will make you cry. In a good way, of course.

You and Jimin share every single one of your birthdays. It's been an ongoing tradition since Jimin turned six before you did. This year is no different. You had to tell a very bummed Namjoon that you already made dinner reservations with your best friend so he'd had to give you your present when you ate lunch with him earlier that day.

Jimin doesn't really think Namjoon likes him that much. He always eyes Jimin with some sort of suspect as if Jimin was going to steal you away from him. Hmph. The feeling is reciprocal.

When you came to your favorite restaurant wearing your favorite green dress, Jimin had already ordered the food and was patiently waiting with his hand-made present.

"Hey!" you cry as you slide into the seat.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" Jimin smiles. "You look great!"

"Right?" you giggle, tossing your perfectly curled hair over your shoulder. "I felt like for my 25th birthday, I'd have to wear something cute. I'm halfway to the fucking 50 years old, Jimin. I'm aging too quickly," you huff, crossing your arms over your shoulder. "Did you order already?"

"O-Oh, yeah," Jimin says. "Why? Did you want something different?"

"No, I just wanted to check if the menus had any grammatical errors," you laugh, shrugging. "Oh well, when we get dessert menus, I'll check out RM."

"RM?"

"Oh! It's part of the gift Joon gave me," you exclaim, pulling out a—

"Red marker?" Jimin scrunches his eyebrows. "For your birthday?"

You nod, placing the marker on your desk and rolling it towards Jimin so he can pick it up and examine it. Jimin does, scrutinizing the marker that was most definitely not as great as Gilbert.

"Well, Joon always saw that I was correcting grammatical errors with Gilbert and he thought that something red would be more emphatic, you know?" you explain, taking out Gilbert from your left pocket. "Of course I love Gilbert more, but I thought I'd give RM a try. Besides, Joon said red serves as the better color for correcting. He said the color itself brings alert to the problem and that green is too passive. I guess I can see that."

Jimin frowns. "But you like green because it's 'passive,' " Jimin sighs as he makes air quotes with his hands. "And it doesn't make the corrections seem as rude and aggressive."

"I know, Jimin," you smile. "I'll try RM out once and keep it on a shelf somewhere. Gilbert's not going anywhere. You know that. Besides, Joon was really insistent that I tried it out, you know? He was so thoughtful too! I think it's a great gift! And I think it's endearing that he named it RM for me. Did you know RM used to be his nickname when he was back in college and in an acapella group? The man can sing! What can he not do?" you gush.

"He named the marker after himself?" Jimin snorts. Typical.

"Well, yeah, I guess he did!" you laugh. "It's like I'm always carrying around a mini him!"

Bleh.

"Yeah," Jimin agrees without much heart. "Oh, wanna see what I got you for your birthday?" he asks, hoping to steer the conversation away from your boyfriend.

"OH MY GOD, YES!" you exclaim. "I've been waiting for this moment since my last birthday."

"Good," Jimin grins as he whips out a box with pretty, green wrapping. "Here."

You take it from him, shaking the box wildly and with wide, happy eyes. "It's kinda heavy!" you comment, beginning to rip the wrapping off. You skillfully force the box open with the butt of your fork. When you finally see your present, you gasp. "Oh, Jimin, you fucking didn't."

"I fucking did," Jimin smiles proudly. "Open it."

You carefully take a photo book out of the box, your eyes glued on the beautiful front cover. "God. I'm tearing up just looking at the front," you laugh. "Where'd you even get these photos?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Here and there, you know?"

Jimin had made sure the cover of the photo book would be littered with childhood photos he and you had taken when you were younger. The rest of the book is filled with little memories the two of you shared growing up with captions and comments underneath. There are a total of 392 photos in the book. And Jimin had spent seven months accumulating them—mostly from his father's old camera and Jimin's old Nokia phone he dug out from his garage. You'd always wanted a photo book, so Jimin thought it was time to gift you with one.

You're excitedly flipping through the pages, spending more time to stare at the more sentimental photos. Even when the food arrives, you can't put the book away. You're so distracted with Jimin's present that you don't even try to correct the grammar errors on the dessert menus. So Jimin grabs Gilbert and makes corrections himself. He puts the correct accents on crème brûlée and corrects a rather obvious spelling error. Then, he proceeds to order two strawberry cheesecakes. Surprisingly, even when the dessert arrives, you don't put the book down.

It's rare when something entrances you so much that you don't speak for long periods of time. You haven't spoken a single word to Jimin ever since you'd started flipping through the photo book, and Jimin finds that he doesn't mind at all. He loves watching how your face relaxes and contorts again as the memories of your childhood flood through you. The last photo in the book is the one your granny took of you and Jimin fighting over the last glazed donut when the two of you were in first grade. Spoiler alert: you'd won. But you had also felt bad after watching Jimin sulk so you'd broken the donut in half and handed a piece to your best friend.

When you finally catch sight of the last photo, you gasp, putting a hand over your lips.

"Granny," you whisper. "She took this photo. I remember..."

You're practically clouded with nostalgia and Jimin swears he sees tears welling up in your eyes. But you won't cry over something as simple as this. It's the fact that you loved his gift so much that you almost cried that counts.

"Gosh... Jimin," you breathe, fanning your eyes. "I'm not crying, by the way. Something's in my eye, I don't know," you mumble.

Jimin grins.

"I don't even know what to say, Jimin. I love it. I'll cherish it forever. Thank you. God, it's perfect," you say. "Wow. You're leaving me speechless, Jimin. And it's very hard to shut me up. You're something special."

Jimin practically beams. All the time and effort he'd spent on your birthday gift had really paid off. He loves seeing you so happy that you can't even describe what you're feeling in words.

You carefully shut the photo book, setting it off to the side before staring right into Jimin's eyes. "I would totally fucking say I love you right now but I don't think Joon would appreciate it."

"What?" Jimin breathes as his heart flutters in his chest. "But he's not here right now."

"He doesn't like it when I do 'romantic' things with you," you sigh as you lean back. "We had a long discussion about it a few days ago."

"Romantic things?" Jimin makes a face. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Oh, it's not a big deal!" you exclaim, waving your hands. "He just thinks, well, he thinks that some of the stuff that I do with you... um, is not really, uh, platonic."

Ah. Jimin sees where you're going with this. And now it's obvious why Joon always looks at him so suspiciously—Namjoon feels threatened by Jimin.

"How so?" Jimin asks but he already knows the answer.

"Like um, he doesn't like it when I sleep over at your place, you know?" you say, fidgeting in your seat. "And he really put his foot down when I told him we sometimes share a bed. He said I shouldn't really do that with you anymore."

Jimin understands where Namjoon is coming from. But at the same time, he feels as if Namjoon had violated his rights. His rights to be with you.

"I can't hold hands with you either," you say, looking down at your uneaten strawberry cheesecake. "I'm so sorry, Jimin. I know we've been doing it for so long and I swear, I didn't know it was strictly a relationship thing. But apparently it is, and it made Joon uncomfortable that we were holding hands when I'm really dating him and just—" you stop yourself from rambling, sighing as you take a sip of your ice water. "And I really love him, Jimin," you whisper. "I don't want to lose him."

"You love him already?" Jimin says with a slight tremor in his voice that you completely look over. "It's only been a month, Y/N."

"Love has nothing to do with time," you smile wistfully. "He's my prince, Jimin. If I let him go, he'll find someone else."

Jimin's silent, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't hurt your feelings.

You take his silence as a bad sign. "Jimin, I didn't want to break all of this to you on a celebration night but I felt like you deserved to know earlier," you say in your secret language. "I'm sorry. It was all part of our tradition too."

"It's fine," Jimin sighs. But it's really not. Yet Jimin hides his pain by shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth. He chews slowly, swallows. "What Joon's suggesting is pretty justified. Don't worry about it."

The rest of your birthday dinner is somewhat awkward. Of course, you try to save the mood by cracking a few jokes here and there, but Jimin finds it hard to laugh. It's the worst birthday he's ever celebrated with you.

You and Joon have only started dating for a month, but so much as changed already. Jimin doesn't even want to think of the drastic changes that might follow as your relationship with your 'prince' deepens and blossoms into something even more serious.

When Jimin arrives at your home to walk you to work on a Monday morning, he does a double-take because he finds you already waiting outside, shivering from the chilly air in nothing but your plain work uniform. Never in the twenty years that he's known you have you ever been on your doorstep before him.

"Y/N?" Jimin asks, bewildered. "What happened?"

"Hey!" you exclaim, waving at your best friend enthusiastically. "Nothing happened. I'm just trying to get into the habit of being early. It's not a good habit to be late all the time."

"Your face is red, Y/N!" Jimin says, shrugging his thick coat off and handing it to you and you take it gratefully. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Eh, just a few minutes," you say, sniffling your runny nose and grinning. "I'm as red as RM! Besides, the sun's shining. You know what that means? I'm fine."

Jimin shakes his head. "You should've waited inside. I'm okay with waiting. I've done it for twenty years so I wouldn't mind doing it for more."

"Joon told me I should get into the habit of being early," you giggle. "I've been late to every single one of our dates so far, you know?"

"Well, you've been late to every single one of our hangouts but I never said anything," Jimin scoffs.

"It's different with you," you say, smiling.

How? Jimin so desperately wants to ask. But he's afraid of your answer.

You wrap Jimin's black coat tighter around yourself as you skip down the porch steps. "C'mon! I wanna get to work super early!"

It takes only a week later for Jimin to realize you like going to work early because your boyfriend's already there, waiting for you.

You've been with Namjoon for about three months now, and the effects are starting to impact Jimin's life rather largely. For starters, you're spending way less time with him than before. The daily routines you had established with him for years are broken as you mold your lifestyle in the way that Namjoon wants you to. Jimin hates change more than anything. You should know that.

And you do. You apologize profusely—any chance you get—about the little changes in his lifestyle because of you; Jimin never blames you, though.

When you missed his grad school graduation because Namjoon bought you expensive vacation tickets to an acclaimed resort in Hawaii, Jimin didn't blame you.

It was Namjoon who had bought the tickets and it was Namjoon who told you the trip wasn't refundable. It was Namjoon who wanted to take you away from Jimin for a week. You promised you would FaceTime him.

And you're the best promise-keeper in the world.

"How is it there?" Jimin asks in the secret language as he lounges on his couch. "Is the weather nice?"

"It's beautiful!" you exclaim, moving out of the screen to show Jimin the sparkling blue-green oceans behind you. "We went snorkeling a few hours ago and we just had lunch so we're waiting to digest our food before we dive in again! I wish you were here," you pout. "I'm sorry I missed your graduation, by the way. Was your father there?"

"Yeah, he was. Don't worry about that," Jimin says. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"Aw, thanks!" you giggle. "Joon really outdid himself with all of this. Oh, how's your job status, by the way?"

"I got the job," Jimin smiles. "I didn't go through with those extra few years of school for nothing."

"HA!" you snort. "If I actually went to college, I would've been kicked out for literally failing every class. Remember when I got a 32% on that physics test? God, I hated Mr. Chung. Look at that! After all of these years, I still remember his goddamn name!"

Jimin shakes from laughter. "Of course I remember! Mr. Chung told me to tutor you or something."

"And then you told Mr. Chung that—"

"Baby?" Namjoon calls off-screen, interrupting you mid-sentence.

You turn around to look at him. "Yeah, babe? Oh, wait, sorry. I mean, yeah, babe?"

Jimin can hear Namjoon sighing. "Baby, can you please, refrain from using that secret language of yours in public?" he whispers. "I'm so sorry, but it sounds a bit like a chicken is being repeatedly run over by a car and people are starting to stare."

Jimin's about to give Namjoon a piece of his mind when you cut in before him.

"Aw, I'm sorry Joon," you giggle. "I made the language when I was really young. Explains a lot, doesn't it? Sorry, Jimin," you tell the camera. "I guess we'll have to stop our encrypted conversation."

"And baby?" Namjoon calls. "We're on vacation! Technology should be off when we have such beautiful scenery around us."

Jimin grits his teeth.

"Right!" you laugh. "Silly me. Sorry, Jimin," you say again, not even looking into the camera this time. "I have to go! I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye!"

Before Jimin can even answer, you end the call. Jimin's left staring right back at his own frustrated face. He chucks his phone across his couch and covers his face with his hands.

At first, Jimin didn't like Namjoon because he was jealous. But now, it's come to more than that. Namjoon's been trying to change the little quirks and habits that made you, you; he's trying to mold you into the same society you rebelled against for all of your life. He's trying to take you away from Jimin. He's trying to strip you of everything you were before you met him.

But what can Jimin do about it?

You're too head over heels in love with this Kim Namjoon. That man is the self-proclaimed prince to your princess. Jimin can't help but think he's the ogre. A handsome, successful ogre who strikes slowly, so slowly that the damage cannot be detected until it's too late.

If Jimin tries to warn you about Namjoon and his dubious intentions, you might not believe him and hate Jimin for life. If Jimin says nothing, he might not be able to recognize you in a few years' time at the rate the changes are happening now.

Jimin doesn't know what to do. He hates confrontations—that had always been your job, not his. So he does what he always does: nothing.

Being with you every day is a mystery. You have something new up your sleeve every single day without fail. Whether it be a new fashion style or a new gadget you made, you're always flaunting something that others wouldn't dare flaunt. And that's what made you so special.

But the crazy color schemes that had once been in your closet have been reduced to dark, muted colors. The Halloween costumes you kept every year to wear as everyday clothes were sitting on a rack in some Goodwill store. You dressed... plainly now.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with that. It's just not you. It is Namjoon though. Besides from Jimin, Namjoon is the plainest man he knows. And so far, switching out your wardrobe was definitely not your idea, though you seem to believe it is. That Kim Namjoon. He's planting these stupid ideas in your head and you're absorbing them like a sponge, too kind and docile and a bit too naive to disagree with your boyfriend.

Jimin's heard the way you talk about him. Your eyes gloss over with complete adoration and you giggle at everything Namjoon does. You're madly in love with him, and Jimin can't do anything about it except watch.

But no matter how many of your habits and physical lifestyle Namjoon can change, he can't touch your personality. You're the same girl Jimin's known and loved for years and years of his life. And he's not going to let you go anytime soon.

"JIMIN!!!" you yell, almost knocking your friend over by hugging him the moment you open your apartment door to see his face. "You're two minutes late!" you pout as you drag him over in front of your television. "I already picked a movie!"

Jimin can't deny Friday movie nights with you is the only thing he looks forward to these days. Though you don't cuddle with him on the couch anymore, you like to lean against his shoulder. And that's enough contact for Jimin to be satisfied.

"Really?" Jimin grins. "What movie?"

"Interstellar!" you say, collapsing on your couch as you aggressively pat the empty seat next to you. "Hurry up! Hurry up! I'm excited!"

"Y/N? Are you sure?" Jimin asks as he sits down next to you with a confused look on his face. Usually, when you choose a movie, you always end up reverting back to your classic favorite Disney princess films. "I know you don't really like sci-fi..."

"Yeah, but I told Namjoon I already watched that movie, but I haven't. So now I need to watch it," you explain quickly. "You like sci-fi, though, so you can explain all the things I don't get! Which would be half of the movie."

There Namjoon goes again. Making you watch movies that literally lull you to sleep.

"Okay," Jimin sighs. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that he's watched this movie hundreds of times.

By the time the roll credits are playing on the screen, you're completely knocked out. Well, you've been knocked out since the first twenty minutes of the film. Jimin's been watching you sleep for the rest of the two hours and thirty minutes of the film. (Not in a creepy way—an endearing way.) He had to stop himself multiple times from reaching out and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

God. Jimin needs a drink of water. Is it just him or is the room getting hotter?

He stands up slowly and quietly, making sure he wouldn't disturb your peaceful beauty sleep. Jimin's known your home since he was five; he could walk blindfolded to the kitchen if someone made him. He finds refuge near your water dispenser, fanning his face and taking his own cup from the cupboard. Your granny had bought that blue cup for him years ago, gifting you with a separate green cup. It's the only cup you use at home.

Jimin fills his cup with water, downing all of it in one large gulp. The water helps him cool off just a tad bit. He moves to place his used cup in the sink, his eyes habitually glancing over at your trash can.

You never remember to put a plastic bag inside it, which makes the gross remnants of your waste stick to your trash can. And Jimin can definitely say that that stench is horrendous. Jimin sighs as he finds an empty Walmart plastic bag rolling around your kitchen. He approaches the trash can, holding his breath just in case. But when he checks inside, there is nothing in it except for—

"GILBERT?" Jimin gasps loudly.

"JIMIN?!" you shriek. There's a resounding thud in the living room and a small "oof," from you as you lay sprawled on the floor.

"Y/N!" Jimin yells.

You dash over to your kitchen, rubbing your eyes and trying to adjust to the bright kitchen lights. "Jimin?" you say, your brows furrowed as you approach your friend who's pointing aggressively at your trash can with wide, angry eyes. "Oh," you say softly when you realize what he's talking about. "Right..."

"Why is Gilbert in the trash, Y/N?" Jimin asks, running his fingers through his hair as he grips the kitchen counter for stability. "Was it Namjoon? Did he do this?"

"No!" you shout. "I did it, Jimin. I tossed Gilbert in the trash."

"Why?" Jimin whispers, taking a step away from you. "That marker's everything to you."

"I know, Jimin, I know," you groan. "It dried out. It's ages old, you know?"

"But you take such good care of it, Y/N." Jimin shakes his head. "And you're just tossing it away like that because it dried out? What about your grandfather? What about your granny?"

"Jimin, it's fine. I'm fine," you say, shrugging. "It's time I let go, you know?

"Let go of what, Y/N? The only family you've known?" Jimin sighs. "What happened to saving the world by correcting their grammatical errors?"

"Its," you reply.

"What?" Jimin says exasperatedly.

"Saving the world by correcting its grammatical errors," you say, a slow smile emerging on your face as Jimin shakes his head to hide his own grin beginning to manifest on his face. "I'm sorry, Jimin. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking," you say. "Well, I wasn't. Joon and I had our first fight today."

"Oh..."

"No, don't you 'oh' me, Park Jimin!" you laugh. "It's really not that bad! He told me I had a premature taste in films and an immature outlook on life, but I mean, he's not wrong, you know? I tried to stay awake watching Interstellar. I really did. But Joon's right. I can't like anything that's advanced. And I realized that it's a crime to vandalize, too..."

"So you threw Gilbert away because of that?"

"Well, yeah," you say. "It's a crime, Jimin. I didn't even know until Joon told me! He's so wise!"

"Oh, god," Jimin groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Ah, c'mon, Jiminie," you say, grabbing his wrists and trying to pry his hands away from his face. "He's helping me move on, you know? He's helping me become a better person!"

A better person.

The words sting. If your definition of a 'better person' is losing the spark, the color of your life, then fine. You were already a better person than before. But all Jimin can see is the monochrome you. The you without color. Which doesn't really seem like you at all.

But it hasn't rained in a while, so maybe you were truly fine with losing your color. Either that or you had also lost the ability to control the weather with your emotions. Jimin wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

Jimin is a patient man. Not only has he waited twenty years for you to love him back (which you never did), but also he never outwardly expressed his frustrations with your change in lifestyle to you.

Besides, if Namjoon's making you that happy, then there really was no problem, right?

Wrong.

You call Jimin on Sunday with the worst news ever imaginable.

"I'm moving!" you squeal and Jimin can hear you jumping up and down on your bed from the other line. "Joon asked me to move in with him!!"

You've only dated him for four months.

"H-He did?" Jimin stutters, cursing himself for sounding so pathetically off-guard. "What about your home? Your granny's home?"

You've lived in that house ever since you were born until now.

"I can't live in that house, forever, Jimin. I want to move on!" you say. "Plus, I think Joon and I are ready to take our relationship to the next level!"

"That's ridiculous," Jimin mutters, raking his fingers through his hair in pure frustration.

"Sorry?" you say.

Shit. Jimin had forgotten you were still on the phone.

"Nevermind," he sighs.

"Jiminie," you say with that characteristic lilt in your voice. "You can tell me what you're thinking you know! I haven't been your ride or die best friend for twenty years to not know what's going on with you."

"I know," Jimin says. But he can't tell you that he absolutely despises your boyfriend. It'll break your heart. And Jimin doesn't want to be the reason for your unhappiness. "Congratulations, Y/N," he says. "I hope you like your new place, then."

"I love it, Jimin!" you squeal. "Joon remodeled his bedroom recently and damn it's just so beautiful! I'll finally be living in a castle with my prince!"

"That's great, Y/N!"

"I know, right?" you exclaim in such a voice that Jimin can tell you're absolutely beaming on the other line. "You have to come over when the move's finished! You know what? Come over this Friday for movie night! I wanna give you a tour of my new home!"

"Namjoon won't mind?" Jimin asks.

"He's going out with friends that night," you giggle. "We'll have the whole place to ourselves! Did you know Joon has a flat-screen TV?? It's humongous!"

The offer sounds very tempting. Watching a movie on a high-end television with you on a Friday night? Hell yes. It almost makes up for the fact that you're moving out of the house you and Jimin had practically grown up in.

God, Jimin can't wait for Friday to come.

It's Jimin's turn to choose the movie when Friday night finally rolls around. Since he knows you nearly idolize Rapunzel, he suggests the two of you rewatch Tangled for probably the millionth time. But before the movie had to come the house tour, of course.

Namjoon's home is rather spacious for a guy who was single for a long time. You parade around the home as you've already lived in it your whole life. Jimin silently tags along. He has to admit that Namjoon's home is, indeed, better than your granny's old house. But he nearly bursts with jealousy when you show him around the big bedroom that you supposedly share with Namjoon.

"Isn't it great?!" you say, twirling around the commodious room with a bright grin on your face. "Joon even bought new sheets for us! I wanted green and he wanted white, so we went with light gray," you giggle. "Compromise of the century, huh?"

"Still looks white to me," Jimin mutters under his breath. But you're so hyped about showing your best friend around your boyfriend's home that you don't hear him.

"C'mon, let's go watch Tangled, now!" you say, dragging Jimin back to Namjoon's expensive leather couch and switching on the flat-screen TV.

Both of you collapse on the couch, leaning against each other by habit as the movie begins to play on the screen. Jimin's watched the film with you so many times that he's basically memorized the whole script.

You like to silently mouth Rapunzel's lines and Jimin mouths Eugene Fitzherbert's lines. You also like to sing when Rapunzel does, and you've been trying to convince Jimin for years to sing with you. But Jimin does not sing. And that was that.

No matter how many times you've watched Tangled, you cry when Eugene Fitzherbert 'dies.' Before you were dating Namjoon, you'd always bury yourself in Jimin's arms, waiting until the climax of the scene is over. Nowadays, you limit yourself to placing your head on Jimin's shoulder, burying your face in Namjoon's couch pillows. Jimin doesn't mind. He likes that you take comfort in his presence.

Just as the tension of the scene is about to lift, the front door of the house opens and Namjoon walks in. But you're so engrossed in the movie that you barely notice, instead, digging your face harder into the pillow.

Jimin's head jerks towards Namjoon and their eyes meet. Namjoon doesn't look very happy. For just a split second, Jimin fears his life. He takes the time to scoot a bit away from you so Namjoon doesn't come for his neck. You whine when Jimin pulls away, trying to tug him back as your eyes are glued to the TV.

"Y/N..." Jimin whispers. "Your boyfriend's here."

"Oh, what?!" you say, breaking from the trance that the movie had put on you and finally turning your head to see a frowning Namjoon. "Joon! You came back so early!"

"Why is he here?" Namjoon asks, ignoring your enthusiasm. He doesn't look at you when he speaks, his eyes trained on Jimin, instead. Jimin gulps.

"It's Friday movie night!" you laugh. "We're watching Tangled! Oh, Jimin can you pause the movie? Damn, we'll have to rewind it. Wanna watch with us?"

"No, Jimin," Namjoon says through gritted teeth. "Turn the TV off. Y/N, this is not your home. It is ours. You're to tell me if you are to have guests over." He glares at Jimin again. "Then we can talk if they are welcome here or not."

"I-I, uh, I have to go," Jimin stutters, desperately, standing up from the couch.

"But we didn't even finish the movie!" you protest, grabbing Jimin's wrist and looking at him with puppy dog eyes. "We always finish the movie."

"Y/N, we need to talk. Let him go," Namjoon says, crossing his arms.

"I—" you sigh, letting go of Jimin's wrist. "Okay..."

It hurts to watch you look down at your feet like Namjoon was scolding you. You look so small, powerless up against him that just for one, small second, Jimin contemplates staying. Maybe give Kim Namjoon a piece of his mind.

But who is he kidding? Jimin could never compare himself to a man like Namjoon.

"I'll uh, talk to you later," Jimin quickly says. He doesn't look back when he leaves and you watch him go with a certain emptiness in your heart.

The moment Jimin's out the door, he runs. He runs from your boyfriend, your obvious pain... He runs away from himself. But he should know. No one can outrun cowardliness.

You're really the only significant figure in his life; the only person he's loved for twenty consecutive years. Yet he can't do anything to save you from the obvious monster that is your boyfriend. Jimin hates himself for that.

He crash-lands on his bed, burying himself in his pillows and drowning in self-hatred. He lays still for what seems like hours in the darkness, the silence. He tries to numb his thoughts. But when his vision is nothing but a black screen, he cannot do anything but think.

He thinks of the fight you might be having with Namjoon. He thinks of how sad you must be inside. He wonders if you genuinely like being with Namjoon. He wonders if you're genuinely happy. But most of all, he wants to know if you miss your old self.

Jimin groans when he hears his phone ring next to him. He doesn't want to get up nor move, but something inside tells him that it's important. That it might be you.

And it is.

Hurriedly, Jimin answers the call. "Y/N?"

"H-Hey, J-Jimin," you wheeze.

Jimin freezes. You're crying. And everyone knows you don't cry.

"Y/N?!" Jimin panics, sitting up. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Of course I'm okay!" you yell, making Jimin wince at the harshness of your voice in his ear. "Joon and I just fought! I'm fine!" you sniffle. "You said to talk to you later so I'm calling you!" you try to laugh but it comes out like a broken sob. "I'm not crying, I swear!"

Bullshit.

This is the third time Jimin's heard you cry. The first two times had been because of your granny. This time? It was because of that bastard, Namjoon.

"Did he do anything to you?" Jimin says, his hands slightly shaking as he waits for an answer.

"No! Joon would never," you say. "We just talked. You don't have to worry, Jimin."

"He looked angry when I left..."

"He was..." you sigh. "Listen, Jimin... this is going to sound bad, but um... Joon... He, well, he doesn't want you coming over anymore."

"What?!" Jimin blurts out. "At all?"

"It's okay! It's okay!" you say, though you sound far from it. "I can always come over to your house!" You sigh deeply. "It's just that I don't think Joon's very comfortable around you."

No, he's just not comfortable when I'm around you.

"This is ridiculous," Jimin mutters.

"Sorry, Jimin, what did you say?" you ask. "I didn't hear."

Jimin closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He tries to stay calm, tries to keep from bursting out and yelling, but he can't help himself. It had to be said. "It's fucking ridiculous!" he shouts suddenly, standing up and starting to pace back and forth in his room with a crazed look on his face. "He's being fucking ridiculous!" he yells.

"Him? You mean Joon?" you say.

"Yeah!" Jimin throws up his hand in frustration. "He's acting like he fucking owns you!" Jimin snaps.

God. He's done it now. There's no going back.

"He's not, though!" you protest. "Don't get mad, Jimin. He's only voicing his rightful opinion. There's nothing wrong with that."

"He's trying to separate us!" Jimin yells. "Don't you get it?"

"No!" you say, starting to raise your voice. "Joon wouldn't do that!"

"Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to throw away Gilbert? Like he wouldn't convince you to clean out your closet and replace it with clothes that he finds sensible? Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to keep your distance from me?? He wouldn't fucking do any of these, huh?" Jimin shouts, his voice interlaced with anger and sorrow. His throat feels raw in his neck, but he continues on with the thoughts he's held in for months. "You're blind, Y/N! He's ruining your fucking life can't you see? Where's the Y/N who used to talk to me for hours before going to sleep in our secret language? When's the last time you've spoken that, huh? And when's the last time you pretended to control the weather with your emotions? Where's the real Y/N? What happened to her?"

"Joon doesn't like her!" you yell at the top of your lungs. Your voice rings in Jimin's ear.

"Why do you want Joon to like you? What are you trying to prove to him?" Jimin cries, his voice quivering.

"I'm following my path to love!" you shout. "It's something you'd never understand. You don't even know what that is! I've never, ever seen you pine for anyone in the fucking twenty years I've known you! You can't be talking about love if you've never fucking felt it!"

Jimin collapses on his bed, his head numb and hands cold.

You take his silence as defeat. "I fucking thought so," you say. "Joon says you're too dependent on me. You need to go out and make another friend other than me. The world changes, Jimin. People come and go. Stop being just so—just so fucking stuck in the past. Goodbye."

You don't wait for a response, ending the call right away.

Jimin's phone slips from his ear, falling face down on his bed. He's frozen into shock. If only you knew why he had never chased after love for twenty fucking years. He didn't need to. Because his love was right in front of his face the whole time.

Aside from the occasional bickering as kids, you and Jimin had never fought. This is the first time both of you had exchanged nasty words with each other.

You had used to call Jimin a peaceful soul because of his extreme hate for confrontations, unnecessary drama and fighting. Not once in his life had Jimin ever said something that he knew could damage something significant to him. Not once in his life had Jimin ever initiated an argument. Not once in his life had Jimin ever really argued, in fact. It had always been you yelling and Jimin nodding if anything.

But when things had stacked up, Jimin couldn't take it anymore. He'd cracked. He'd yelled. And he'd finally fought with his words.

Yet the fight doesn't symbolize anything except a double loss for Jimin because you had ultimately chosen Namjoon over him. Then, you'd proceeded to completely crush his heart by failing to recognize his love for you.

Jimin never had to worry about heartbreak. He and you had always been best friends, nothing more. No matter how much he loved you, he never acted upon it, which meant you never rejected him. So, yeah, no heartbreak.

But this... that fight... When you'd accused him of not knowing love... when he had loved you for years. That was heartbreak. And it is still heartbreak.

Jimin found it extremely hard to get out of bed every morning after the fight. Sometimes, throughout the day, when something even the slightest bit amusing happens, he whips out his phone to inform you of it. Then, he realizes he and you are not quite on speaking terms at the moment. Jimin also realizes if he can't text you, he has no one else to text.

Maybe you were right. Jimin needs more friends.

It's almost been a week since the fight on the phone; it has also been almost a week of constant rain. It pours down hard and steady, only slowing down for light drizzles in the afternoons. It's the only reassurance that Jimin can get. That you're just as sad as him. That some part of you misses him as much as he misses you.

The weather forecast said the rain was supposed to clear by tonight. But Jimin waits by his window, where the thunder clouds boom over the roof of his lonely house and the rain pounds against the concrete. It's a storm.

He worries about you.

Maybe he should text you? Call you? What if you're all alone in your room, crying profusely and that bastard of a boyfriend, Namjoon's giving you the silent treatment? It's like Jimin can feel your pain through the weather.

A lightning bolt flashes through the sky and four seconds later, Jimin hears the booming thunderclap. It wasn't supposed to rain today. You must be crying all alone. You must be missing your granny. You must be missing him.

Another sharp thunderbolt pierces through the dark rain clouds in the sky and the thunderclap rings louder than the last. That's it. Jimin picks up his phone.

It's sad that you're still the only person in his favorites contact 'list.' He taps on your icon and presses the phone against his ear, looking out the window as if you were out in the rain all by yourself. The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Usually, by then, you pick up the phone. But it occurs to Jimin now, that this is not going to be a usual conversation. His phone is heavy in his hands and he rests his cheek against the cold window, wondering if you're ever going to pick up.

Maybe you're crying so hard that you can't hear your phone ring.

Jimin lets out a shaky sigh, just about to disconnect the call to avoid hearing the all-too painful dial tone when you finally pick up.

"J-Jimin?" you breathe, groaning. "God, Jimin."

"Y/N?" Jimin exclaims. "Thank god, Y/N!" he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Mmm," you groan again.

"That's right, princess. You're mine all right?" a hushed, masculine voice whispers.

"Joon," you whine, urgently. "Please..."

Jimin can hear the soft slapping of skin in the background, Namjoon's heavy grunts and your whimpering. Immediately, the hairs on the back of Jimin's neck stand up straight. It's then when he realizes that you're moaning from pleasure. That Kim Namjoon's fucking you right now. And that you had still decided to pick up Jimin's call.

Tears blur Jimin's sight as he fumbles to end the call, chucking his phone halfway across the room afterward. He crumbles up in a ball, digging his face into his arms and sobbing.

Did you disrespect him that much? To pick up the call so he could hear you having sex?

It's the first time Jimin's ever questioned why he's in love with you.

Maybe, in the beginning, he had good reasons, but that had been because you had good intentions. You had been boisterous, unafraid to go against the current, wild, rebellious and had this my-way-or-the-high-way kind of character. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with. The girl who carried around a green marker in her pockets to correct others' grammatical errors. The girl who invented a secret language when she was young just because she felt like it one day. The girl who convinced herself and others that she could control the weather with her emotions. The girl who didn't give two shits about what anyone thought of her. The girl who wore whatever the fuck she wanted because she could. The girl who never showed him when she was sad because she wanted to be strong, resilient. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with.

But who the fuck are you?

Jimin had used to think it was Namjoon's fault you were so different. But you'd let him change you. You'd become docile, tedious, plain. All the things Jimin was and is. It's your fault. You could've stopped everything if you wanted. You could've broken up with Namjoon. But you didn't. Because you wanted to change.

Jimin can't love the new you. He doesn't even know if he can see you again.

His body shakes hard with fear and rage.

He's definitely not going to see you again.

He was never your prince; you'd ultimately chosen Namjoon. And you were never his princess; he had been delusional to think so.

He's going to walk out of your life. He needs to leave. For himself.

Jimin had already spent a week without your company and that had been enough. Now he wants to cut off all contact with you. He's already blocked your number, switched apartments and stashed away everything that reminded him of you—which was fairly a lot of things. He was so determined to be independent, to forget what it felt like to be dependent on you.

But without your presence, his bland life was even blander than before.

Waking up every day and not walking you to work felt foreign to him. Friday nights felt lonely without you. Weekends were dull. Weekdays were even worse.

He missed having to hear your bright, cheery voice. He missed talking about the craziest things with you. He missed waking up in the morning and wondering what you would be wearing today. He missed Gilbert. He missed your granny, too. Most of all, he missed you.

But you'd hurt him. Whittled away his heart little by little over the many years just by never loving him back. You'd humiliated him by choosing the man you knew for four months over the man you'd been best friends with for two decades.

Jimin figures he'll miss you for a long time. You'd been a large part of his life, after all. He'd already broken off contact with you, and that was already a giant leap. The next step would be to stop thinking about you, and the step after that to stop missing you. And when that's all over, he can stop loving you.

Looking back, Jimin realizes he struggled to get his life back on track for nearly eleven, long months. He'd seen winter come, spring pass and summer leave. But just as winter was making its presence on the weather again, frosting the leaves of plants and chilling the morning air, he'd finally come to his senses.

The past eleven months had been mournful. But as the days passed, he'd allowed himself to think about his current life more than his past. It had occurred to him that now, he was living a life of no-nonsense. Of no silly, childish imaginations. He was living in reality. Where he should've been in for all of his life.

Sure, he spent his birthday alone and without you for the first time since he was five years old. But it was something he could get used to. Celebrating the day he turned one year older just didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

Maturity suits Park Jimin well.

He'd always preferred things that were tangible, anyway. Things that could be proven. Things that made sense. It was time to say goodbye to the foolish things of his past: secret languages, weather-controlling, naming markers...

It took him eleven months, no, 25 years, but Jimin finally became an adult.

He's 27, now.

He likes to drink black coffee in the morning like his co-workers. He likes vanilla ice cream the best just because it's the most simple. He likes to tell women that he's a civil engineer to impress them on first dates. He has an adequate number of friends. He goes to work five days a week, eight hours per day. He drinks on Friday nights, watches the news and goes to bed early. On the weekends, he spends his mornings reading articles in the science section of the paper and he hangs around bars at night with his friends.

It's a humble, normal, plain life. But Jimin likes it. It suits him.

He has thoughts about you from time to time; he would never forget what it felt like to love you. But he never again gets the urge to call you. You're a figment of his past, and Jimin's moved on.

The early spring breeze caresses Jimin's cheek as he walks steadily, staring at Google Maps on his phone and glancing up every once in a while so he doesn't run into a pole like last time. He was supposed to have a Sunday brunch with Jeon Jungkook but that silly bastard had canceled last minute on him to take his own girlfriend out on a date. Typical. But Jimin actually appreciates the alone time.

Jungkook had promised to take Jimin to a great cafe that was walking distance from Jimin's place. Since Jimin had nothing better to do, he decided to have his brunch there alone.

"You've arrived at your destination," the monotone voice named Karen drolls.

When Jimin looks up, he sees a small cafe sitting at the corner of the block, surrounded by towering trees shading the area and lots and lots of verdant green bushes. Something about the place seems homely. Familiar, even.

Deja vu, maybe? Jimin thinks.

He doesn't think much more and walks in. The inside of the cafe is decorated mainly with wood, green yarn and healthy vines twisting around the furniture. Jimin's hit by a cordial, oaky smell that instantly calms his nerves and clears his mind. The place is completely empty, too. His footsteps pad against the wooden floor as he admires the little cafe. The ordering counter stands in the corner, fairy lights and green paper lanterns dangling from it to illuminate its surroundings. Jimin walks towards the lights as if he were in a trance.

Something about this place seems so damn familiar.

Jimin hasn't felt this connected with nature, with this much creative liberty since—

"Jimin."

He whirls around, eyes widening and mouth dropping open when he recognizes the owner of that voice. Sure enough, he sees you, wiping your hands on a bright green waist apron. You're wearing a white pirate blouse that could've passed for a Halloween costume and a skirt with layers and layers of different shades of green fabrics—it looks like you'd made it yourself.

"Y/N," your name leaves his lips in a breathless whisper.

"Hey," you smile, waving awkwardly. "It's been a while, huh?"

A while? Two whole fucking years, in actuality. "Yeah, I guess," Jimin nods. He glances at the door, contemplating just leaving, but some instinct inside of him urges him to stay. "You work at this place?" he asks as he walks up to the counter where you're getting ready to take his order.

"Yeah," you giggle. God, Jimin had missed that smile of yours, but of course, he doesn't want to admit it. "Well, I own this place."

"Really?" Jimin asks. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks!" you say. "I decorated it myself. What can I get for you? Do you want me to recommend our best dishes? Look, we have a separate menu just for brunches!" you say excitedly, showing Jimin a neatly laminated menu laced with green yarn. "I recommend the Gilbert Special. Eggs, toast, bacon and hash browns. But, the Jimin Special is our house favorite!"

"The what?"

"100% off for the person it was inspired by," you smile. "That's you, by the way."

"W-Wow, Y/N, I'm—"

"No! You have to take the offer!" you say. "You can't even say you won't like it because it's literally all your favorite breakfast foods combined!"

Jimin smiles, shaking his head. "It's really the house favorite?"

"You bet it is," you laugh.

"Then I guess I'll have a Jimin Special," Jimin says. "Any chance it comes with a glazed donut?"

You shoot him a knowing look, a grin spreading across your lips. "It wouldn't be a Jimin Special without one."

Jimin ends up having brunch with you.

The icy, awkward barriers in the beginning slowly melt away into the friendship Jimin had known for more than half of his life. He dines on the best breakfast he could have ever asked for while getting to talk to you again after nearly two years. He can't imagine a better way to spend his Sunday.

Small talk with you is fun because you spice everything up with loud gasps, wide eyes and extroverted reactions that make even the dullest stories exhilarating. But it's suffocating to speak of such shallow things with a person he'd been best friends with for twenty years. Jimin's dying to know how you've really been, not what you found hilariously funny last week.

"So," he asks, "how are things with Namjoon?"

You snort, shaking your head. "God, that was fucking ages ago," you say. "We broke up a while back."

"Sorry," Jimin says. But he's not really.

"You're not that sorry, aren't you?" you laugh as Jimin's face morphs in shock when you call him out. "It's okay. I know how you feel about him. And I agree with you now. That idiot had the audacity to tell me to grow up. And he called you a good-for-nothing-awkward-ass-wimpy-child." You roll your eyes. "I knew it had to end when he said that. Besides, there's a certain highly endearing thing about innocence, don't you think? We should all be a little more childish."

"Wow," Jimin breathes.

"Wow, indeed," you smile wistfully. "That bastard could've said anything he wanted to me, but he shouldn't have dared to bring you up like that. I can't fucking believe I thought he was going to be my prince! I was so scared I'd lose him so I did everything he said, you know? God, in retrospect, I was just a really, really, oblivious and desperate idiot."

"You were just in love, Y/N," Jimin says. "Love makes you blind."

Your face twists for just a split second before you smile, shaking your head and sighing. "Jimin, I feel like I have to get this out before we become life-long best friends for fucking ever again."

"Hm?"

"I never apologized for what I told you like, two years ago," you say. "That fight we had on the phone? I told you that you didn't know love. And god, I've regretted saying that for every day, every hour, every fucking minute and second of my life. It was wrong." You shake your head, looking extremely disappointed in yourself. "At least what you told me was right. God, I was so angry, so terrified of losing my first love that I spit out words without thinking. How could I say you didn't know love, Jimin?" you say. "Of course you did—of course you do. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for years if you didn't. And Jimin, fuck. I love you too. I never said it enough. But I'm saying it now. I love you and I missed you. And I'm sorry I picked up the phone when I was having sex."

Jimin laughs. Around two years ago, that day had definitely not been a laughing matter. But only time can tell if the most depressing matters can morph into rather laughable memories. "I love you too, Y/N," he says. "And you shouldn't be sorry. I think we're all past that now."

"C'mon, I wanna show you how I redecorated my granny's home!" you say, bolting up and taking Jimin's cleared plates in your hands. "Meet me at the front of the cafe in two minutes!" you holler as you dash to the kitchen.

Jimin can't get rid of the smile on his face. He adjusts his jacket and stands up, taking another look around the cafe before he exits with a light skip to his step. He'll have to buy Jungkook dinner sometime for recommending this cafe to him. What was the name of this place, anyway?

Jimin steps back and squints at the big, capital letters placed on a banner in front of the cafe. He can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

"Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix!" you exclaim as you come bounding down the steps of the cafe to stand next to Jimin. "Isn't that true? Green fixes like, everything."

"Lil's not a word, Y/N. I thought you knew better," Jimin jokes.

"Oh, spare me," you say, placing a dramatic hand on your forehead. "It had to be done. The stupid company had a character limit for the logo. It was either Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix or Nothing Green Can't Fix," you huff. "And the latter is completely disgusting."

"I agree," Jimin snorts. "Then, in that case, I believe you made the right decision."

You smile. "I sure did. So, shall we go now?"

"Definitely."

Your granny's apartment looks exactly the same on the outside, but on the inside is an abundance of green. From plants to paintings to posters to silverware, everything is green.

"Nothing a lil green can't fix, indeed," Jimin breathes as you drag him around the whole place.

"Right?" you giggle. "Look! I even made a separate cabinet with all the birthday presents I've ever received from you!!"

The tour nearly takes five hours because the two of you get distracted every other minute, indulging yourselves in past childhood memories. And when Jimin's been tired out, the two of you lay side by side on your dark green sheets, silent but comfortable.

"Hey, Jimin?" you whisper, breaking the silence momentarily.

"Hm?"

"Remember our senior year in high school?"

"Of course I do," Jimin says. That year was the hardest (arguably) in your life. It was the year where you learned of the fatalities of death. It was the year you had lost your granny.

"We had the conversation about our true fears that year," you say with so much nostalgia in your voice that when Jimin closes his eyes, he can see the events of that day unfold before him. "Turns out, I didn't have just one fear. I had two. One was losing Granny. The other was losing you. And you know? For two years, I thought I lost you both. It hurt to think that my best friend hated me so much he had to dissociate himself from my life."

"I didn't hate you," Jimin says, opening his eyes as he turns to his side to look at you. "I swear. I just figured it was a good time for me to self-improve. You know, become independent for once. And maybe I didn't like who you had become, but I never hated you."

"Really?" you say, turning to face your best friend. "I was so scared that you'd shit talk me if I ran after you when you left that I didn't do anything. I thought it would've been better if I let you go. But I mean, I think the time apart was needed. We've self-improved."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees.

"So..." you say, a silly grin appearing on your face, "are we reunited now? Best fucking friends forever?"

"Of course we are," Jimin says.

"Okay, good," you say. "And before you say anything else, I have to ask you something, Jimin."

"What is it, Y/N?" Jimin asks, sitting up as you start to rummage in the pockets of your skirt.

"I just—" you're unable to finish your sentence, smiling. "Will you color me green, please?" you politely ask as you hold out a green marker in your hands.

"Oh my god," Jimin breathes. "Is that—"

"I pulled him out of the trash, Jimin," you say, eyes watering with emotion. "As soon as you left that night, I pulled him out. And then I kept him with me for years. I even recently got the ink replaced so it works fine, now." You let your tears fall down your face and you blink rapidly to see your best friend's softened face. "Did you really think for a second that I'd throw him away?" you ask in your secret language.

Jimin almost sobs right then and there. He'd never thought he'd hear that language again, and even after two years, he's able to understand you fluently. He hopes he doesn't sound too awkward when he replies, "I mean, you did have him in the trash can," he laughs, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "You really want me to color you green again?"

"It's the bestest color in the world. What did you expect?"

Jimin's never been happier in his life. Tears streak your cheeks but you are unbothered by them, holding out Gilbert for Jimin to take. He takes note that you do not try to hide your tears anymore. In a way, you've become more beautifully confident. He realizes that you want to take him back to the start—the very beginning of when your friendship had commenced. With those simple words, "Will you color me green?" you've transported the two of you back to a place of innocence, of childishness, of thoughts of staying young forever, of avoiding maturity at all costs.

Outside, there's a slow drizzle of rain, indicating another spring shower. But above the soft gray rain clouds is a double rainbow. The colors are so vibrant, they wash away the monotonous hues of the clouds heavy with rain.

Romantic love makes people suffer. Jimin should know. He's been in love with you romantically for nearly two decades. He's felt feelings such as pain, experienced experiences such as heartbreak and dealt with the understanding of the wretched concept of unrequited love. But now? Two years later?

He realizes that you may never love him the way he had loved you. But that's okay. Because maturity is when you accept the way things are. Being childish is refusing to let go, which is what Jimin is too—he refuses to let go of you. But that goes the same for you, for you refuse to let go of Jimin.

You still love him. And for once in his whole fucking life, Jimin loves you in the same exact way that you love him.

a/n: find my behind the scenes thoughts and original endings here!

masterlist

#btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #bangtanidx #jimin #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jimin ff #bts #nothing a lil green can't fix #nalgcf #i didn't even know what a simp was when i was writing it #but apparently #subconsciously i knew what it was #yikes

169 notes · View notes

yaohoerozu · 5 years

Note

alright, I'll request something! Headcanons for Jiro, Momo, and Mt. Lady whose S/O takes them out on a date to the movies?

AAAA my best girls omg, you have great taste dude 😔✋ I hope these aren’t too short, and I tried making them gender neutral since it wasn’t specified! Enjoy!

———————————————————————

•bold of you to assume she wouldn’t be the one to take YOU to the movies

•she would just GLOW the second you tell her you got tickets for her favorite movie, and pull you into a thankful hug

•‘Oh y/n! You didn’t have to! Gosh, I really am lucky to have such a perfect companion..’

•she literally daydreams about how much she loves you LOL

•casually brings 10,000 yen to spend on snacks there

•hey, you got the tickets, now there’s no going back in her spoiling the absolute shit out of you

•she’ll buy you your favorite food the second you step into the movie theatre and give you that cute lil smile of hers

•being the perfect bean she is, Momo’s definitely gonna wanna go in while the previews are still rolling, but only bc she doesn’t want to miss a second spent alone with you 🥺💕

•you both have a seat towards the front rows, but since there’s not too many people at the back, you decide to head on there anyways, despite Momo scolding you saying others might arrive afterwards

•well, she might be reluctant about taking another seat, but she definitely isn’t complaining now that you two are more in private

•once the movie starts, she’ll just be glued to the screen, super captivated by the story

•since her family is hella rich and she had to be raised in a very strict manner, Momo never really had the time to watch movies or TV, so she always gets super excited whenever she has the opportunity

•will definitely talk throughout it

•‘That was unexpected!’ ‘Y/n did you see that? I wonder how they filmed such a scene..’ ‘The actress is so beautiful! Don’t you think-‘

•‘Momo honey I love you, but please for the love of God shut up..’

•hold her hand and she’ll literally MELT

•good job, you have now shifted her entire attention span back to you

•she’s the type of person that cries when a movie ends, even if it’s a funny or happy ending

•‘T-That was so moving!’ ‘Momo.. The guy got a pie thrown in his face..’

•she’ll thank you like 3000 times once you two are out

•gives you a warm, affectionate kiss in return for your sweet actions, followed by of course...

•‘You got me a diamond necklace?!?!’

•‘Well, I had to return the favour!’

•gets super flustered knowing you bought her tickets

•she feels guilty that you’re always so sweet to her and feels like she never gets to return the favour, so at first she’s reluctant

•tries to convince you it’d be better if you went with a close friend of yours

‘•You’ll enjoy it more with them, Y/n, I really don’t deserve all this from you..’

•but knowing her, you’re determined to convince her to come along

•she finally agrees with her cheeks still dusted pink, mumbling a quiet thank you along with a timid smile your way

•you proudly make your way out of the dorms with a tight hold on her hand, and you announce loudly to the rest of your classmates that you’re taking Jiro out on a date

•‘Woo Jiro get some!!’ Kaminari yells as you make your way out of the door

•Jiro.exe has stopped working

•when you two arrive at the movies, she relaxes a bit more

•she was more nervous to be seen going out by her classmates than anything else, so once you’re both in each other’s company, she isn’t as tense

•gets you a bag of popcorn and your favorite slushy flavour, and hands them to you with a flustered look on her face

•‘Awe Kyouka! You got my favorite!’ You grin at her, and she just chuckles, rubbing the back of her head

•‘A-Ah really..? I didn’t notice..’ Yeah RIGHT

•you both go in exactly as the movie starts, and settle in towards the middle rows

•unfortunately, there’s a few people seated next to you guys, so it isn’t that private

•you cuddle up next to her to make more space for yourself, and she freezes up, her blush spreading all the way up to her ears

•guitar gf just loves you so much okay? She needs your affection

•you insist you and her stay a little afterwards once the credits start rolling in, and start jamming to the song that plays after everyone is gone

•she laughs and joins you, mimicking the guitar playing in the background as you shout the lyrics at the top of your lungs

‘Everyone welcome the talented.. beautiful... incredible but annoying as shit.. Y/n!!’

•you cackle mischievously and tackle her into a loving kiss, and she returns it with a deep sigh against your lips

•‘I love you, Kyouka..’

•‘I love you too babe.. Thanks for today.’

•she’s super duper excited when you tell her

•the press follows her everywhere, and she loves to see the titles people come up with on the front pages of magazines whenever you two go out

•Mt Lady And Y/N spotted kissing in a parking lot- Edited or Real?

•Mt Lady And Y/N’s alleged love life

•Mt Lady And the lucky Y/N

•It makes her so giddy, she just loves the attention your relationship gets

•of course she isn’t with you just because of that

•she adores you and well, she just loves to show you off, basically

•you’re like her little treasure, after all

•she takes actual hours to get ready and pamper herself up despite you shouting for her to hurry the hell up, so you both arrive a little late for the movie

•literally has to activate her quirk to get past a crowd of fans, and almost squishes a few people as she does so

•‘Yu, I’m pretty sure they can see up your skirt!!’

•‘Let them see I don’t care, we’re late for our movie!!

•you two arrive in a panting mess, and enter the theatre about 10 minutes after the movie starts

•you’re a little pouty at first because the beginning was one of the funniest part of the comedy you picked, so Yu gets up halfway through, and comes back with a HUGE bag of popcorn for you

•instant regret of making her feel bad

•you two hold hands and laugh throughout the entire movie, even when others are dead silent at some of the corny jokes

•you have to stop her because she deadass starts making out with you at some point, and some old lady starts whisper shouting at you two to get a room

•cue Yu asking her who the hell she thinks she’s talking to

•you have to pull her down so she doesn’t anger a bunch of other people, and she calms down the second you do so

•she walks you home once the movie is over, and drapes her jacket over your shoulders seeing that it’s getting late

•you arrive at your doorstep, and she pulls you down for a romantic kiss, followed by a signature wink and smirk

•‘I’ll see you later then, baby~’

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barefoot-joker · 5 years

Text

Yandere!Jeremiah Valeska X Reader One Shot

I would like to apologize profusely if this is terrible. I wanted to try and write for Jeremiah and this is the direction my brain went so yeah. Feedback is appreciated on how I can make his character better and what you thought of this lil one shot. If you want this one shot to become a full fledged story drop a comment below! Otherwise enjoy!

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182409053588/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-2

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182862984808/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-3

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183226748438/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-4

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183462856853/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-5

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183601483818/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-6

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184215467078/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184513626468/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184712916978/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/185001873563/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/186623351048/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sigh.

I took in a deep breath as my body shook, the deep monotone beeping from my heart monitor not putting me at ease as I sat. I tried to relax in the green armchair that I was told to sit in but upon feeling my body twitch from restlessness I knew I had to move. Standing, I moved towards the window and let my eyes wander over the city lights and busy streets of Gotham. I had always thought the city looked beautiful in the dark, the neon lights giving it life, them nothing like the apartment I was forced to be cooped up in. Running a hand along the cool glass I closed my eyes and breathed in slow, the beeps mixing with the honking and chatter of outside.

How did it end up this way?

{Flashback}

I was walking down the busy street towards my home, minding my own business when something caught my eye. A man in a dull salmon suit jacket and business like attire walked across the street, something seeming to trouble him. As I watched I saw him trip, his papers scattering everywhere. He bent down to pick them up, not even noticing the truck barreling towards him. With wide eyes I sprinted towards him, yelling at him to move but my warnings were heard upon deaf ears. Shoving people out of the way I quickly tackled the man to the side, the truck whizzing behind us causing my hair to blow around. The man beneath me stared up at my face, his black framed glasses tilted slightly from the fall and his eyes wide in shock. "Are you alright, sir?" I asked after a few seconds. "Y-yes. G-glad to be a-alive." I gave him a small smile and got off, allowing him room to stand and readjust himself. As he did so I turned towards the street and grabbed all of his papers, returning to his side once more when I had all of them. "There ya go. I believe that's all of them." "T-thank you. A-and what m-may I call m-my savior?" "Y/n. Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you..." "Uh Jeremiah Valeska." I smiled at him and shook his hand, his very pale in comparison to mine. "Thank you again Miss Y/n. I must have had too much on my mind to notice that truck. Why he was going so fast on a busy street I could never tell you." I chuckled and shook my head. "Welcome to Gotham, Jeremiah!" He gave a nervous laugh before adjusting his glasses straight. "C-could I perhaps buy you a coffee in repayment?" "You don't have to, Jeremiah. Just seeing you safe is enough pay back for me!" "On no please I insist!" "Alright. If you insist. I know this nice place just around the corner if you're in a hurry." "Lead the way." With that we made our way around the corner to one of my favorite spots, him getting a black coffee with two sugars and I a (favorite hot drink). Sitting in the corner by the window we talked about our lives, I finding Jeremiah's much more interesting than at first glance. Our discussion lasted for about an hour, it only breaking when he needed to go for a business meeting. "Well I must thank you again for saving me, Miss Y/n. I find your kindness surprising in a drab city like this." "No problem, Jeremiah. Just stay safe." "Till we meet again." I gave him a solemn nod before heading on my way back home, I feeling the ginger's eyes on me until I rounded the corner.

{End Flashback}

I was startled out of my thoughts when I heard the door creak open and light footsteps enter the room, my heart skipping a beat. "Y/n, come and sit down. I have to change your IV before Jeremiah comes back." Ecco's voice rang out.

Letting my hand slide down the window I let it rest at my side as I slowly rolled my IV stand with me. Sinking down into the green armchair once more I didn't even watch as the blonde woman changed the plastic bag out with a fresh one and replaced the tube in my arm after rolling up my sleeve, I not even flinching anymore. "Jeremiah should be home soon. He said he'd have dinner with us when he returned."

I trembled when she said the word home. This place was no home of mine. It may have been coined that title but under no circumstance would I ever call it that. Ecco must have noticed my sudden change in mood for she gently pat my hand and offered me a smile. "You'll have to give up your rebellious tendencies sometime, Y/n. Jeremiah doesn't like it when his darling misbehaves."

I just stared straight through the window, her words falling short. Suddenly we both heard the front door slide shut, Ecco standing and going to her master's side. Meanwhile I just sat in silence, my nimble fingers playing with the hem of my baggy long sleeved shirt. From where I sat I could hear my captor's hushed whispers and then banging in the kitchen. I tried to settle my breathing as I heard the stairs creak and then the floorboards behind me following suite. In a few steps my so called lover kneeled beside me, his gloved hand gently caressing my cool flesh. "Good evening, love. Sorry I took so long. I didn't expect my meeting to last till now."

I didn't offer a reply. How could I? This madman had done so much to hurt me already.I heard Jeremiah sigh as he stood fluffing his jacket. "I know you're still settling into this whole new situation but can't you at least offer me some sort of thank you?"

That was it.

I snapped my head at him and glared, Jeremiah's lip twitching with a smile. "Why should I thank you? You've ruined my life."

"Ruined it? Oh no, I'm simply repaying you for saving me. Don't you remember that time, Y/n? After you rescued me from being crushed and we shared a drink and a laugh I knew you were the one!" Jeremiah stood and clutched his hands in a lovesick manner, a grin stretching his red lips wide. "And after doing a little digging and finding out about your weak heart I knew that I had to help you, just like you did for me."

"But you didn't have to kill Selina and give me her heart to do that! I-I was on-"

"A waiting list for a transplant, yes. But I knew you'd have never gotten one in time. You would have been dead by the time a willing participant showed themselves. I simply took matters into my own hands. Besides that Kyle brat was getting too close to you and Bruce."

I bit back a sob and quickly turned my head, not wanting the beast to see any weakness. Near my chest I could feel his fingers untangle the wires to my breathing tube and heart monitor pack, it resting in a sewed on pocket near my heart. "Ecco tells me you were walking around up here. I thought I told you to stay put in this chair until I returned home."

"I was getting restless. Being cooped up in the same place for three days can take a toll on you."

Jeremiah nodded firmly before resting his purple leather gloved hands on top of my own, allowing him to lean in gently and stare into my teared up orbs. "You know I'm doing this for your protection and well being, right my dear?"

His fingers danced lightly across my flesh as he gazed longingly at me. With his blue eyed stare embedded into my soul I couldn't help but cry, the tears soiling my pale cheeks and sobs wracking my body. Due to my emotional break down the monitor sped up a bit, the jagged red lines going faster along with it's beeps. My captor tilted his head and let concern grace his brow before he took off his gloves and allowed his thumbs to wipe away my tears. "Shh, dearest. You'll be alright. Ecco and I will make sure your recovery goes nice and smoothly as it will take you several months to feel one hundred percent better. And even after this is all through I'll still protect you because I can never let you go."

With that Jeremiah caressed my hair and leaned in to give me a kiss, my sorrow and agony still there as he laid his so called affection on me. After a few seconds he pulled away and gave me a smile, his thumbs reaching down and pulling the corners of my lips up to form a grin. "There's the smile I know and love!"

I sniffled as he held my face like that, our eyes gazing into each other's as I tried to hold back my sobs. Even though Jeremiah was being calm as can be I didn't want to risk flaring up his anger so I chocked back my sobs, them causing me to cough and splutter. "Careful, my dear. Don't want to ruin the stitches."

His finger delicately ran down my chest and I couldn't help but shudder. Just as his hand was about to go lower a bell went off, signaling dinner was ready. Jeremiah paused, his blue orbs sparkling with what I could only describe as lust. Grinning, he gently helped me stand and led me towards the stairs, him humming a tune along the way and my socked feet lightly brushing the wooden planks. As we came to the stairwell Ecco was there to assist with my machines, her lifting them as Jeremiah guided me down the steps. As we hit the ground floor the blonde placed my medical equipment down and hurried ahead of us to the dining room. The dark haired male next to me craned his head down at me, his eyes giving off a dangerous glint in the lamplight. "Let's have a nice family dinner tonight, alright Y/n. Behave like a good girl and I won't have Ecco force feed you like last time."

I gulped as I could still feel the bruises from where the blonde had roughly grabbed me. I nodded quickly causing Jeremiah to chuckle and lean into give me a peck on the cheek. "Let's not keep her waiting then."

With that we walked into the room and had an interesting meal, all the while I questioned when Bruce and the police would come and save me from this madman.

#x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #gotham #gotham tv show #gotham on fox #jeremiah velaska #yandere jeremiah valeska #one shot #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #ecco gotham #gotham fanfiction #gotham x reader

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cardansolo · 5 years

Text

My Favorite Reylo Fanfics

We all need something to hold us over until December, right? Here are all of my absolute favorite Reylo fics. They’re all amazing - well-written, mostly slow-burn (because I’m a sucker for those), and all T, M, or E rated. I’ll be updating this list as I find more that I love. Happy reading!

*Fic is incomplete.

In the Star Wars universe:

In My Blood Stream by EllieCarina (x)

Rey knows Kylo by now. And she knows Ben and almost everything in between. But when Poe Dameron kisses her, she learns something she hadn't known before. They are bound by the Force and this alone would be difficult enough - with love of all things added to the mix, the universe could as well come apart under the weight of their minds.

(Formerly “I Know,” now a multi-chapter fic.)

Landscape With a Blur of Conquerors by diasterisms (x)

"While I share your contempt for this situation in which we find ourselves, do not mistake it as apathy," he hissed through gritted teeth, dark eyes burning. "I hardly expect your disposition to sweeten, but I will be damned if I allow my future Empress to behave in a manner that reflects poorly on me and on the First Order!"

"If you allow?" She wrenched her arm out of his viselike grasp, batting his hand away for good measure. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone."

"That might have been the case back when you were a scavenger on that pitiful scrap heap of a planet, but now?" His sardonic gaze flickered over her silk robes and the jewels woven through her elaborate braids. "Now you are the Chume'da, and the Chume'da belongs to her people. Their fate is entirely in your hands. Should you cross the line, it is they who will suffer for it. Am I making myself clear?"

"I hate you," she said bitterly.

He sneered at her. "See? Already you are acclimatizing so well to married life.”

Tactical Surrender by destinies (x)

“It was foolish of you to come here,” he says. “You won’t escape this time.”

Rey looks at him, at the Stormtroopers, at the combat walkers. She gives the illusion of thinking it over, and then says, “You’re right."

She presents her wrists to him. “I surrender myself to the authority of the First Order.”

Three years after the Battle of Crait, Rey, Resistance hero and teacher to a budding new Jedi Order, once again delivers herself into the hands of the enemy. To provide cover for a maneuver that could deal a serious blow to the First Order, she must gamble with the thing she knows its Supreme Leader wants most: herself.

In The Gathering Dark by grecianviolets (x)

Post-TLJ. In the aftermath, from the chaos and the carnage, rises a new vision for the galaxy.

You’ll Be the One to Turn by postedbygaslight (x)

Several months have passed since the Battle of Crait, and Rey of Jakku and Supreme Leader Kylo Ren have continued to haunt each other, appearing at random to each other throughout their days and nights. But the connection is unstable, and longing and loneliness start to overwhelm other concerns.

Jedi Academy AU:

Like Young Gods by diasterisms (x)

“What do you think?” Luke asks his nephew. “She has potential.”

“She bit me, Master,” is Ben’s stiff response. “Any opinion I give would be biased.”

Or: Everyone is connected, even if, sometimes, it's just by the skin of our teeth. Even in the midst of darkness, still, luminous beings are we.

To Kingdom Come by diasterisms (x)

[Sequel to Like Young Gods]

"I remember everything!" he snarls, loud enough to make her flinch. "How you move— the way you breathe—" His words hitch on a strangled half-sob; he stares at her like a man caught in a waking dream as he skims the line of her jaw with his knuckles, stopping to touch the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip. "How your eyes met mine in the starlight," he continues through a broken, haunted rasp of a voice, "and I felt like the look on your face."

Or: What is alive must heal. What cannot heal must endure.

*In My Ten Years by brittlelimbs (x)

There's a piece of Jedi mythology, passed down from ancient times, that tells of a peculiarly nasty phenomenon: one singular, intact soul split in two by the Force. It's a story of a schism in the stars, a constellation cracked in half, a lifetime spent scouring the Universe in search of that elusive whole.

But the Force is cruel and kind in turns; it gave Ben only one piece of his soul, but left the other, swaddled, at his feet.

AKA [the author’s] take on the "Ben and Rey grow up together!" trope with a soulmate/soulbond twist. Pretty much pure teeth-rotting fluff, lots of Ben being a lil mother hen etc. before they grow into a romantic relationship. Luke POV.

Modern AU:

A Proposal By Any Other Name by Lucidlucy (x)

Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose.

She wants a family, after all.

The universe has different ideas. Her flights are delayed, storms hit, she loses her tickets and everything seems to be going horribly. To top it off, she ends up stranded around a rather irritating man by the name of Kylo Ren. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

-----

A Leap Year AU.

Unexpected by pontmercy44 (x)

What to expect when you're expecting the child of an rich, womanizing, alcoholic, unredeemable asshole? And what to do when the unexpected, improbable, irrational happens?

Play to Win by Enterprisingly (x)

Ben Solo – aka KyloRen – is a professional gamer, playing the first-person-shooter StarKiller for the internationally ranked eSports team, The First Order. He’s made a name for himself as a ruthless competitor with a ferocious temper and top-notch skills that can’t be beat. That is, until a mystery player named ReyOfLight begins thoroughly trouncing him whenever they cross paths.

What follows is the unlikely story of a rivalry that turns into a friendship that turns into… something else entirely. All while the eSports community watches with bated breath and popcorn in hand.

Ghostwalks (Gin and Fog) by diasterisms (x)

[Actors AU]

"I don't like your manners," she sniffed.

"And I'm not crazy about yours," he retorted.

(So they were apparently Bogie and Bacall now, and maybe she could blame the alcohol in the morning, like all the good girls did.)

A Royal Mistake by reyofdarkness (mitslits) (x)

Ben Solo (aka The Playboy Prince): Prince of Alderaan and tabloid sensation, never seen with the same girl twice.

Rey: Mechanic, blissfully unaware of Ben Solo's very existence.

Until Paige recruits her for a night servicing the Met Gala, host to a diverse class of guests, including royalty. It is there that a chance encounter gets Rey caught up in a pair of pretty eyes and a charming personality that she knows she should stay far, far away from. The universe, however, seems to have other plans.

Doing the Unstuck by slipgoingunder (x)

A rom com inspired by When Harry Met Sally. (No, you do not need to have seen the movie to read this.) Modernized, gender swapped, angsty and funny.

Rey is Harry. Ben is Sally.

In 2010, Rey and Ben share a contentious car ride from Chicago to New York, during which they argue about everything. Including sex.

Four years and another chance meeting later, both their lives have taken unexpected twists. And they're still arguing about sex.

In 2018, Rey and Ben meet for a third time, each at a crossroads in their lives. They continue to argue, but in a nice way. So nice, in fact, that they become good friends. Complicated friends. Complicated friends who definitely do not want to have sex.

Olive and an Arrow by sadboykylo (x)

Rey might be in love with Ben Solo. If only he wasn't her cautious bodyguard, and she wasn't the president's daughter.

A/B/O:

Suits and Stilettos by Aimz777 (x)

Ben Solo, protégé to James Snoke at the prestigious Kenobi-Snoke-Organa law firm, is tasked with employing a male Alpha Associate from one of the Trinity law schools. Why then, he hires Rey Jensen – a female Omega from Jakku Law with a photographic memory and a stubborn streak to rival any Alpha – is anyone’s guess.

Luckily no one knows she's an Omega except him.

Unfortunately for Ben, her intoxicating scent is messing with his head and he is increasingly growing to resent the fact that he isn’t like every other person on the planet that simply can’t smell her.

–The A/B/O modern day lawyers fic kind of (but not really) based off the show Suits

Your Pretty Little Heart by Ever-so-reylo (x)

“Good. Good little Omega.” He says the words against her gland, almost sweetly, and Rey—Rey is going to die. A wonderful, delicious death. Depraved, all of this. Filthy. Beautiful.

Modern day AU in which Ben is an Alpha, Rey is an Omega, and they are way better at having sex than at communicating with each other.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fic rec #reylo fanfic rec #reylo fanfiction #reylo fic #these are all very good #they made me emotional #yes diasterisms is on here four times because her work is literally so good #mostly made for myself so i can keep track of all of the wonderful fics i read

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alitheamateur · 5 years

Text

The Grind- Chapter 8

Warnings: Language. Fluff.

A/N: OHHHH, CHAPTER 8, HOW I LOVE YOU. This is one of my favorite chapters in the entire book, and I only hope you do enjoy it! It’s Colton and Liv, intimately behind closed doors, just how I like them. AND, DRUM ROLL.....You’ll even get a little insight into the mind of our boy Colton Ritter!!!

(GIFS FROM GOOGLE)

I hadn’t attempted to track Colton down once the weigh in concluded. He had hands to shake, and plenty of pictures to pose for. And as for me, there were a few colleagues I needed to speak with amongst the mass of people as well, before stealing away to him upstairs. Kate was on the list, a reporter for one of the local television news stations, who happened to live in the same apartment complex as I did. We weren’t tight pals by any means, but always spoke in passing every morning before work, and there was the occasional invitation to her flat for a drink to unwind. As a matter of fact, it seemed unwinding was precisely what Kate had in mind this particular evening, too. Her whining insistence on sharing a Cosmo in the lounge wouldn’t cease unless I caved. But, I was certain to make it a clear point that I only had time for ONE quick drink, and discreetly sent Colton a text to inform him I may be arriving a little behind schedule.

As promised, Kate let me part after a single drink order and some simple small talk over some perfectly salted mixed nuts. We exchanged predictions on how we thought tomorrow night would go and where she had bought the camel colored satchel bag she was displaying in the seat next to her. Then, out of the sheer goodness of my heart, I even sat quietly listening to the horror story of her latest blind date mishap. Bless that poor girl, she really was a catch. Confident, very intelligent, lightyears ahead of other anchors in the city her age. To most men though, her every quality was one that intimidated their sensitive ego, making it a struggle to find a match who would encourage her success, rather than smother it.

I left her alone in the bar with her sorrows, honestly feeling a bit bad for abandoning her to drown them, then aimlessly wandered to find the elevator. Thankfully, I reach Colton’s floor without any company in the confines of the metal box. Creepy, awkward elevator conversation was #4 on the list of things I hated as much as cherry licorice. I walked down the lengthy hallway lined with plum and green patterned carpet, then patted two light knocks on room 1893, and waited zealously. My toes patted in anticipation, and my lips buzzed a bit from the leftover coating of my stout Cosmopolitan. The door opened surprisingly quick after my tapping by a handsome fellow adorning a pair of light grey boxer shorts.

“Damn, I was really hopin’ you were that pizza I ordered from downstairs.”

I kicked the door open further sending him back to hit the papered wall to the left, and he snuffled from a closed mouth grin.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I snarled. “And come on now, Ritter. You can’t be opening your door looking like that. You’ll have the maids brawling for who gets to bring up your extra towels.” I gestured a hand toward him, alluding to his quite painfully sexy, underwear model-esque appearance.

The tv was muted on ESPN, only a gold desk lamp casting light into the rather large room. A king size bed stationed closest to the wall with the double windows, covers unturned, and curtains drawn. Faint music danced over my ears, something from the classic rock genre. Journey, maybe? Our taste in music had thankfully been another similarity discovered sometime in the days of our courtship. I bent over removing one shoe at a time, to hurl them in the corner. I so loved my beautiful collection of pumps, but my feet could only take small doses. My ankles begged for my past preference of high-top tennis to return.

“So, I thought we’d just hang out in bed. Watch a movie or somethin’? I kinda just wanna relax. Unless you wanna go out? I can get dressed.” His words offered to go out, but his crooked eyebrow & pursed lips said otherwise.

“Staying in is perfect, babe. As long as you promise to share that pizza you’ve got comin’. Black olives?”

“Yep. Jalapeños only on my half.” It was miracle. I had found a man who compromised on the most important thing in my life. Food.

“You know the way to my heart, Colt.” I smoothed tiny circles with my flattened hand over the comforter of the bed, enticing him to join me. Rather than lightly crawling up next to me, he lunged wildly to flop weightlessly in the empty spot.

“I brought ya’ a t-shirt if you wanna change. It’s in my bag by the bathroom, I think. Figured you’d be wearin’ one of those sexy lil’ business suits you’re always prancin’ around in t’ torture me.” He reiterated his remark by grazing the small line of my exposed stomach. “I didn’t want cha’ to be uncomfortable all night.”

“All night? Is that an invitation? Whatever on earth would make you think I’d want to spend the night in this gorgeous hotel room with you, Colton?” I threw a hand to my chest and closed my eyes in a prudish manner.

“ ‘Cause you, Liv Caroline Elliot, just cannot resist me.”

Although he was right, I wasn’t about to give in defeatedly and just admit guilt. He always gave an effort to come off so self-confident, and poised even, like he himself was the holy grail to mankind. Somewhat similar to how Mendez carried himself. But, I was well aware it was all an exterior front for the twisted, emotional mess he was inside. He was like one of those candies with the crunchy, seemingly unbreakable shell that had smooth filling in the middle. By this point I had pretty well pulverized that outer layer, and it really wasn’t as difficult as imagined.

“You’re just so sure about that, aren’t ya’? But I think I could say the same when it comes to you, my overly confident friend.” One finger prodded his flexed peck.

“I think we both know I can’t resist ya’, two-one. And I ain’t a bit scared to say so.” I had sat up ready to climb from the bed and retrieve the t-shirt he mentioned, but was immediately yanked in a near whiplash motion down on top of him. He gave me a look that I wished I could bottle up and carry in my purse every day. It was a look of total admiration, torturous passion, and loving fulfilment. There were no smiles, or laughing from either of us. The room was simply clouded with a haze of love so thick it was nearly visible to the human eye. I grazed my nose to his, not daring to disrupt the conversation our eyes were exchanging, and kissed him with opened lids. It was returned, with his addition of a spirited squeeze to my tail. One thing I had noted about Colton, was he could draw me into the deepest depths of a moment, hold it for delayed second or two, then undoubtedly jerk away from the overwhelming rush of emotion like he had been stung by an angry bee. But I’d wait for him to open the heavy iron gate to that conversation regarding his slightly detached demeanor.

“I love you, Colt.”

“And I love you, gorgeous. Now, go’n get changed. Imma pick a movie for us.”

The path of my outfit left behind me was enough payback for the little winking stunt he pulled earlier at the weigh in.

By the time I appeared from the bathroom, the pizza had been delivered, the covers turned back, a 6-pack on the night stand, and an unbelievably attractive man awaiting me. My makeup washed off and hair knotted into a messy bun, I was pant-less wearing a baggy soft t-shirt that smelled of Colton’s bodywash, and ready to sink into bed with him. I didn’t want tomorrow to come because I was certain there was no way it could measure up to this.

“Okay, so we got The Purge, or one of my personal favorites, the classic Harold & Kumar go to White Castle. You pick.”

“Shouldn’t we watch something like Fight Club, or, I don’t know… Rocky instead? That seems more your style.” I suggested raising one knee on the bed to boost myself up into the chill of the sheets. I loved the way his tanned, furry legs looked bold against the bleached white of the bedsheets.

“Although Rocky does top my movie list any day of the week, I can watch things that don’t involve fist to face violence, you punk. I ain’t a total adrenaline whore. I’ll have you know that I even saw The Notebook. Twice.” He informed me very matter of factly.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here & say that date ended very well for you.” My mouth mimicked the act of vomit thinking about the lines he cooed into the ears of that poor girl causing her to all but leap into bed with him.

“Is somebody jealous? C’mon now, babe. Past is the past.”

There had only been one suitor he had been semi-serious with previously. Her name was Amber, they dated for 6 months, and he caught her in the locker room at Mac’s in a quite compromising position with his Physical Therapist. That was really all the details he shared, & it was definitely all I needed to hear. However, I knew his lack of romantic relationships was plenty compensated by his plethora of casual sex partners. The fact that he was experienced was extremely clear to me after that night in the ring at the gym. He worked fervently taking metal notes of what dips in my skin he could kiss that caused a gentle hum of pleasure, and which ones caused an almost violent writhing. 14 partners in his twenty-six years, a number I was far from comfortable with, but it wasn’t about to send me running scared either.

“Your past just seems to be a lot more.. eventful than mine.” I admitted placing the sweating beer bottle between my greasy lips, and dropped my head in sheepish discomfort.

“First of all, you know damn well that don’t mean shit to me. You gotta think more of me than that, Livvy. ‘N second, that’s just all the more fun I get to have bein’ your little teacher, huh?” Both brows raised and fell in unison at his perverse inuendo.

“Get over yourself, PUH-LEASE.”

By this very crude point in the conversation, he’d eaten his entire hearty side of the pizza in addition to two slices of my black olive half, and I was 3 beers deep. The chatting began rolling so immensely, the tv remained off, and instead we’d left his iPod to shuffle at random through his vast array of musical tastes. We prodded question upon question about the other, shoveling for every fiber of detail we could harvest. I was stunned in utter disbelief that he had never even been out of the country, and he seemed nearly repulsed in the discovery that I still wasn’t a Steelers fan despite living in The Burgh for coming up on three years. At some point I can’t recall, he stepped from the bed to open the drawn curtains, exposing the twinkling illuminations of the still very lively city even at the hour approaching 1 a.m.

He observed the world below him like he had created this kingdom himself. Colton was Pittsburgh through and through down to the marrow, and I wouldn’t change it for all the money in the world. The grouping of blue moonlight and changing street lights coated him in a glow almost angelic. He was laid smooth on his back, a bended arm beneath is pillow, and I laid in sideways position with my head situated across the rippling muscles of his inked abdomen, his fingers twirled lazily around an escaped hair from my updo. With passing minutes his words slowly developed a raspy, almost thorny tenor and his answering and asking of questions now more dawdled. He was like a tenacious child battling the certain feeling of sleep that enraptured him, afraid he may miss a revelation of crucial importance if he dozed off.

“Baby, I know I haven’t told you, but I want ya’ to know your article is really, really excellent. And I’m damn proud a’ ya’.“

I was confused at the compliment since he hadn’t read as much as one sentence from my piece yet. “Colt, it’s not even done yet. And how would you know since you’ve yet to see it, ya’ goof.”

“It’s your work, Liv. You’re a natural, kinda like me with fighting, ya’ know? It’s what we do best. And besides, you’re always sayin’ how proud you are of me, so I want ya’ to know someone feels that way about you, too. You got no idea how amazing you really are, do ya’ girl?”

His compliments nearly made tears spill from my welling eyes. This simple, yet so utterly perplexing man loved me to his core. I could feel it in his words right that second, and in the way his scarred knuckles brushed my cheek sending a shockwave of serenity to my soul. I had never fallen so deeply for someone in such a way, much less in just a few months’ time, and I was honestly terrified at every feeling I harbored for him. I shifted to rest my palms on his chest making eye contact with his flecked eyes.

“Why are you always so good to me, huh? Better be careful, babe.. People may think you’re going soft.” I warned, raising my brows to appear concerned.

“Oh, but you’ll be able to assure them that Colton Ritter is far, farrrrr from soft, baby…” One swift, lascivious movement now rendered me pinned at my sides by both wrists under two strong, veined hands. Although the act seemed to be hinting toward a much more lustful direction, he simply touched his lips to the corner of my slightly gaped mouth with a single extended kiss, lilting a melodious “I love you.”

Colton

She dozed off an hour or so before I had. The barely noticeable, gentle buzzing of her snoring mouth gave her away. The cotton-like thickness of my dry tongue screamed for a drink shortly after, so I had to scoot her head from crease of my arm, careful not to pull on the hair fluffed on top of her head. She had wallowed trying to get comfortable, I’m sure the damn hardness of my bicep wasn’t the best replacement for a pillow, and tangled strands of her blonde hair were brushing over her lashes. I often wished maybe I could give the gym a little break, and soften up a bit. Just so she’d be able to sleep tucked into my chest at night without feeling like she’d get a black eye if I moved the wrong way.

My high-school wresting t-shirt she slept in climbed up her belly, exposing more of the clean shade of white boy-shorts she wore underneath, and a teasing curve of the underside of her breast. I had seen my fair share of naked women in life, more beyond Liv’s level of comfort. But her? Damn it… She wasn’t Playboy, plastic lipped, and chiseled from head to toe like most empty fuckers like me would look for. Liv’s beauty was more palatable, and desirable to the real man. Beauty that maybe most people would miss out on. But me? She entranced me the minute she stabbed me with those emerald green eyes.

Her buttery soft skin, her blonde hair usually wild like the winds of Chicago. Not the kitchen sink blonde like you’d see down at the infested strip clubs downtown either. No, this was the sunshine yellow she was born with. Sandy, smooth blonde intertwined with some strands of caramel like the inside of a chewy candy bar..

Her perfect, pink, creamy buds painted rosy circles on the inside of the thin cotton of her shirt, and I thought very much that she might’ve been the sexiest thing I had ever seen. The screaming hard on pinned under my boxers said so. And despite the trickle of drool out the side of her slumbering mouth, and the smearing black of yesterday’s makeup stained under her eyes, I couldn’t look away. As if I’d even want to. And hell, if I wasn’t in love with this Indiana girl in every sense of the word.

Liv

Despite my desperate prayers for time to halt for just one night, it insisted on passing into the morning. I had slid from the bed just before dawn to close the dark curtains of the room, wanting to make sure he got undisturbed, restful sleep for what this day was going to require from him. And selfishly, it as also an attempt to keep our room as black as the unexplored ocean, foolishly thinking maybe the rising sun would just pass us by if I didn’t allow its light in. We had eventually forced ourselves to sleep the night before, after several attempts to kiss goodnight. One kiss, lead to three more, which lead to fifteen more, each holding more and more desire to carry those kisses elsewhere over the span of the other persons body. But, painfully so, I squandered it insisting he better get some shut eye.

Now, the digital clock on the nightstand closest to his side of the bed flashed 5:49 a.m., and I expected his internal clock to start stirring him very soon. From the sliver of dawn intruding through the minimal crack of the patterned drapes, I watched him sleep. Admired would be a better word. His lids smoothly sealed, no crinkles of struggle about them, and his mouth gently puckered. I made mental note of his naturally suntanned, unscathed face in the state it was now, knowing full well tonight would render it not so. There were no bruises, no splits in his lips, no blackened eyes. He was the nearest thing to physical perfection I had ever laid eyes on. I hoped he couldn’t sense my focused staring.

Suddenly, I felt a growing itch in my nose, a building sneeze approaching. Trying at all costs to avoid waking his lifeless form, I pinched my nostrils shut in effort to trap the noise from escaping. However, the harsh flinch my body released sent a jolt over the entire mattress. Colt inhaled a loud, groggy breath and stretched his hand to grasp for my side of the bed.

“Hey, you,” he said rubbing the rest from his waking eyes.

The hearty drift of his accent from the hours of 4 to 9 a.m. could very near send me straight into orgasm.

“Sorry, babe. I tried not to wake you.”

He rolled over to face me dragging his arm around my waist to pull me into his chest, I smiled and draped a bare leg over his warm body.

“I ain’t got no problem at all gettin’ woken up by the likes a’ you, baby.” He crowded me with a drowsy kiss, his tongue curling slightly under my top lip. I could feel him rattle with laughter at the sensual pant he sucked out of me.

“You’re not so bad yourself, sir. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby with a full belly. You?”

I kicked back the covers, breaking the wall of warmth it had closed around us and scooted to raise on the edge of the bed.

“Great. I’m thinking of getting one of these mattresses for my place. It may take up every inch of my entire bedroom, but it’d be well worth it.”

“Hey hey hey, where you think you’re going, little lady?!” Colton was propped on both arms, scowling at me under a lined forehead. “You ain’t even gonna have breakfast with a man? I feel so cheap.”

Always so witty, this one. “I just assumed you had a lot on your agenda today, Colt. I don’t want to hover.”

I was puzzled constantly over when to stick around, and when to leave him be. Appear as committed, but not obsessed. Interested but not overbearing. I had never been with an older man before, were the rules different? Sure, he was only 26 to my almost 23, but nonetheless older. Did the “hard to get rule” expire with men in their late-twenties?

“Livvy, stop worryin’, baby. Mornings before a fight are actually pretty laid back. I’ll spend most of the day with my headphones in my ears, prolly take a dip in the jacuzzi,” he was rolling his eyes, motioning his hands back and forth to explain the boring schedule of his day. “Then, meet the guys in Mac’s room to talk things out before we head to the venue. So, at least lemme order us some room service so I can enjoy breakfast with my girl, ight? Unless you got somethin’ else I could eat for breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day, y’know…”

Damn this pig. This sexy, magnificently tantalizing pig.

I hurled the hotel menu on the desk speedily toward him, “Cold shower, Ritter. Cold shower.”

If he wanted breakfast in bed with me, who I was I to deny? Rolling my puffy morning eyes at him, I crept back into bed.

“Waffles, please! And bacon. Oh! Fruit on the side, too. And coffee. Don’t forget coffee.”

Like he said, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?

The man was impressed with my appetite for food, among other things as well. “Yes, ma’am!” he obliged. “Anythin’ else for the princess?”

“Maybe some whipped cream? For the waffles, of course….”

I was even surprised at myself for the boldness he brought out in me. Sex was a very.. taboo thing back home. Matter of fact, I never even got “the talk” from my parents, and instead was left to the uneducated murmurs of my fellow sheltered classmates. But with Colton, I felt audacious when it came to the topic. Mind you, the things he said most of the time could sent me blushing under the table, but I was growing more comfortable with his dirty remarks and was even starting to throw in my own ornery overtone on occasion.

“Oh shit. You a damn tease, Liv Elliott. A dirty, dirty tease.”

Our indulgent spread of breakfast variety was carted to the door in a very prompt fashion. I obviously indulged more than he, devouring two Belgian waffles, 3 strips of the crispiest peppered bacon I’d ever had the pleasure of eating, a grapefruit, and two cups of coffee. He enlightened me that he could’ve eaten every morsel in front of him, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to cram all the carbs and fat into his stomach, in case it made him feel sluggish. So, regretfully it was egg whites, two slices of dry wheat toast, and a protein shake for him. I did entice him to take just one bite of my syrup sopped waffle though.

“Sheesh, I’m gonna need a solid nap later to recover from that overload.” I crashed backwards onto the feather pillow behind me, crossing my hands over the settling food baby in my stomach.

“Hey, do me a favor will ya’? Wear that sexy fuckin’ leather jacket o’ yours I like so much tonight? I know I won’t see ya’ before the fight, but I want you to wear it out to celebrate after. My little badass, front-page writer out on the town.” He was kissing my individual fingertips one at a time.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out then.” My gut bubbled with hope that tonight would bring to pass every detail he had said. Him, the newly crowned Middleweight Champ on my arm, and me, the newest front-page writer for the Pitt Pilot. Could life be that perfect for us?

“Course. A man with a plan.” I admired how he trampled every aspect of life with blinding confidence, and I wished he could somehow hypnotize me to do the same. “As much as I hate to leave good company, babe, I should get home. Let you get all angry and pouty and what not.” I sighed into a near pout, sincerely wishing I could spend the entire day as a part of his prep team.

“You’re probably right, baby doll. I can’t believe Mac ain’t been here beatin’ my door down yet.”

I was gathering my day-old clothes to redress, and Colt rose to begin lightly packing his gym bag. He threw in an unfolded change of shorts, his red headphones, then I saw him pick up the gloves I’d gifted him.

“C’mere, two-one..” I zipped my khakis up and lifted my hair out from under the neck of my shirt, then obliged to his request. He held one glove in each hand and squared them even to my chin.

“Kiss ‘em for luck?”

My heart hiccupped, and I topped his hands with mine and dipped my puckered lips to the padded mitts with an audible “mwah.”

“That’s it. The magic touch! The final nail in that jackoff Mendez’s coffin. A kiss of luck from my girl. Now, got one more kiss on that pretty little mouth for these?” he begged, one finger pointing to his own sinful lips.

I closed in on him with fierce eye contact. “I think I may have just one little measly kiss left in here somewhere for you, champ.”

My mouth was so close to his that the words nearly vibrated off of his parting lips, and I gently cupped his dimpled cheek. It was a lethal concoction made of salaciousness and loving romance that was slowly poisoning my entire body with bliss. Colton’s hand swept down the side of my head, combing through the tangled hair he had gathered it into his fist at the back of my neck. I was locked to him and I never knew being captured could feel so, so good. My tongue covered almost every surface in his mouth, mapping it out. He withdrew and I could feel his lips spreading upward into a smile.

“Wow. I think I may need to drown myself in an ice bath now. A cold shower ain’t gonna wipe that one outta my mind.”

I was pleased that I had to same affect on him, and his did on me.

“Good luck tonight. You don’t need it. You’ve got this. Step into that cage ready to battle. Clear eyes, okay? I love you, Colt.”

“Clear eyes. I got it, baby. And I love you too, Elliott. More than you fuckin’ know.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tomhardyfanfic #tommy conlon #elizabeth olsen #tomhardy x ofc #thegrind

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thepilotanon · 5 years

Text

gardenia iii

Second Trimester

I’m sorry it’s been a while, but here it is! This is a bit longer than last time for some extra special stuff for Belle {reader} and Clyde in the journey of becoming parents, so please let me know what you thought while reading! I have more in store for next time, so I hope you enjoy!!

warning: none!

“I’m getting big.”

Hearing the voice of his wife’s voice reach his ears under the ruffling of his towel, Clyde raised his head to see her standing in front of the body mirror with a concentrated look on her face with her hands at her backside waist. Wearing his Bob Seger shirt and her underwear, hair messed at the top of her hair, she bobbed the limp bun with the tilt of her head with a sigh. As said, her belly was now showing obvious signs of growing more prominent and round, making the music singer standing on the railroad tracks tilt with the curve of her belly…

And, to Clyde Logan, his lovely Belle couldn’t look any more perfect.

Keeping the towel over his wet hair, Clyde strolled in his unbuttoned jeans and sat on the edge of their bed. He watched her bend her torso back a bit, frowning with the shape of her growing stomach and then stand straight with her hand running up and down the whole expanse of it. She obviously was struggling with her self-confidence of her appearance in the morning, yet she would eventually dress herself in one of her cute outfits and smile all proud. Clyde knew she would come out of that sort of funk eventually when they woke up that morning, but this was going on longer than usual.

“C’mere, Darlin’,” Clyde beckoned with a gentle curl of his finger, catching her attention with a turn of her head. When she made her way over, Clyde wrapped his arm around her back and used his hand to pull her closer to have her stand between his legs.

Looking up with an adoring gaze to her face, Clyde pressed gentle kisses to her growing bump before speaking. “Y’know with yer belly growin’ is part of havin’ a baby, right?”

“I know,” Belle nodded, laughing while reaching up to continue towel drying his hair. “I just - I don’t know, I feel like my belly is oddly shaped right now. All my guts and organs are shifting around to make room for the baby, and I look weird. Really weird!”

“You look beautiful,” Clyde insisted. “Really beautiful.”

Belle snorted and rolled her eyes, making him grin and lock his hold on her when she tried to step away from him. “You look just as beautiful the first time I saw ya wear my favorite Bob Seger shirt, remember that? Got caught in that rain on our walk an’ I invited ya in to warm up and stay the night, ‘cause ya didn’t have a car anymore…”

“And your license was still pending,” Belle recalled with a teasing smirk, which Clyde nodded and gave her stomach another kiss. “You couldn’t drive me anywhere, unless I had my ID, which I stupidly forgot at the time.”

“Still, I gave ya my favorite shirt, tellin’ ya it was good luck to keep ya from gettin’ sick from the cold,” he continued, his hand rubbing across her lower back. “Swear I never saw any girl more precious n’ sweet in an oversized shirt, could’a swore my heart was gonna burst when ya came out after changing. Asked if ya needed anything before I set up my bed for ya to sleep in -”

“And I said I only needed you, like those cliche movies,” Belle mumbled with red cheeks, refusing to look his way. “Then I pulled you to bed.”

“Pulled? Belle, you practically tackled me!” Clyde declared loud enough to get her squealing with embarrassment and bend down to hide her face into his shoulder, making him grin. “Was worth hitting my head on the wall, though. Still remember that night like it was yesterday, and then wakin’ up to yer pretty face sleeping the next mornin’ an’ not wanting to leave the bed.”

“You’re so warm and great to cuddle with, I wouldn’t have wanted you to leave anyway,” she gushed, nuzzling into his neck while he situated her to sit on his knee, cradling her body carefully to him in a comfortable cocoon of his naked chest and fresh scent of his shampoo and soap.

“Had the most perfect body of an angel, and still do, Darlin’,” Clyde told her confidently. “Seein’ how our lil baby bean is growing inside ya, knowin’ that their perfect and beautiful momma is carryin’ ‘em and helping ‘em grow. Don’t mind one bit if yer guts movin’ ‘round in ya, yer still my sexy lady.”

Belle laughed against him and reached up to kiss his cheek adoringly. “What if I turn out to remain weirdly shaped for the rest of my life, like a potato?”

“Still my beautiful Belle Logan,” Clyde confirmed, turning his cheek to catch her smiling lips in a sweet kiss, sighing. “If you can love a goofy-lookin’ man like me, I’ll love ya no matter how ya may look. Nothin’ ain’t gonna change it, Darlin’.”

“Okay, you’re stuck with me and my funny shaped body.”

“Yer perfectly shaped body that I can’t keep my hand or mouth off, ‘cause it’s so addicting and hot. Yer jus’ my hot lady an’ God don’t I love ya,” Clyde purred before catching her in another kiss, only deeper that made her fingers tangle in his wet hair and hold on. Feeling how her knees were pressing together, Clyde was careful to dip his wife and lay her down on the bed, hovering above her body as his lips moved to press kisses along her skin to the collar of the shirt she wore.

Belle whined desperately, pushing the towel off his head to drop to the floor. “Clyde, aren’t you going to be late for work?” she asked, yet pulling his head back to kiss him again with no plan of letting him go soon. “You need to leave soon, don’t you?”

“I own the bar, sweetheart,” Clyde chuckled against her mouth before pulling back and taking hold of the bottom edge of the Bob Seger shirt, tugging playfully. “I can be there anytime I want.”

“Can you save it for when you come home? It’s too early and I want you to be at work, where you are suppose to be,” Belle teased, stopping him from lifting the shirt up her growing belly. Holding his cheeks with both hands and stroking her thumbs against them. “Please? Then, you and I can have more fun with no one to bug us or work to do. You know once I start, I will most likely refuse to let you leave me for anything.”

Clyde sighed but gave her a soft, loving smile, nodding before kissing her forehead and helping her up and off the bed. “Alright, Darlin’, whatever you want. Just be ready for lots of lovin’.”

With her hormones changing left and right with her energetic need for her husband, Clyde has been able to pick up the littlest signs of her needs like a pro. Little behaviors of her pressing her legs together, her constant sighing or being fidgety whenever they’re sitting at home, Clyde doesn’t hesitate to tend to her needs. For him, he is enjoying the fact that the little game of catching hints with Belle gives him all he needs to give her pleasure at any time of day. Although, most of the times she will willingly go to Clyde for help, she sometimes needs some of his professional loving to get her feeling better. Clyde loved it.

Giving her a playful growl as he playfully nibbled on her neck to get her laughing, Clyde peeked down between them before he burst out a loud snorting laugh that startled her.

“What?” she giggled in confusion, her cheeks flushed while he combed her hair back lovingly. “What are you laughing about, big bear?”

“I jus’ realized,” he chuckled and gave her a deep kiss, “we match, baby.”

Belle’s face twisted with confusion when he stood straight and mimicked her stance with her hands on her sides, feet stance apart as he grinned with amusement. “Our bellies, baby. We match, see?”

When Belle looked to their bellies, how Clyde had his slightly curved belly touching her own in a mimicking manner, as if he also was carrying something inside his abdomen. Covering her mouth with both of her hands, she did her best to hide her amused grin and laughter behind her hands while Clyde laughed joyfully over the comparison, reaching over to kiss all over her face again.

“See, Darlin’? Ya don’t look weird at all, we can match while our lil baby keeps on growin’,” he offered with a bright grin. Dropping to his knees, Clyde lifted the shirt up to under her breasts and nuzzled lightly before kissing the soft skin with little butterfly kisses. “Don’t ever think yer lookin’ big or weird, Belle.”

“Okay, silly man,” Belle laughed lovingly, allowing him to cuddle her stomach. “Come on, you need to get going. I’ll visit you later, okay? I’ll bring you lunch and spend time with you on your break.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, Darlin’,” Clyde sighed happily, making her giggle at his daydreaming behavior. “Always lookin’ forward to it.”

Sam and Fish, Joe Bang’s little brothers, were special guys to say the least. At least, according to Belle. Having grown up with the two younger brothers as more on the lines of siblings, rather than uncle-figures, like with Joe Bang; they were playmates with Belle during the summers, and she grew to have more confidence in fighting her own battles with the support of both brothers at her side. However, as much as Belle loved the Bang family as her own surrogate members, she did question Sam and Fish’s intelligence when it came to construction projects and repairs around the household. Majority of the time, from Belle’s own witness testimonies and stories from her grandfather, both younger brothers were prone to creating a bigger mess than what they started out with.

Even now, walking into both of them with various tools, plywood and screws about on the unkept porch of their small home, Belle Logan was more than ready to deal with their usual doofiness.

“What are you two idiots doing.”

Both of them jumped at the sound of Belle’s monotone voice, knowing she was not the least bit surprised to find them hanging around their house on a weekend. Being that they were now ‘men of God’, they had a lot more free time to tend around their house, to make it suited (for the ladies, she assumed well enough). This, however...was something different.

“Belle!” Fish gasped, jumping up to his feet to see her holding the small ice cooler in one arm and a tupperware filled with her homemade cookies in the other. Careful with his bare feet to avoid stepping on screws, he made his way over to hug her and kiss her head lightly. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it today, Belle. We were gonna try and surprise ya!”

“Surprise me with what?” Belle narrowed her eyes at instantly noticing Fish’s voice quivering. Seeing Sam turn around on his bottom, a toothpick in his mouth, Belle saw the poorly printed out packet of instructions.

“We were gonna surprise ya at the baby shower, but thought we could’a make it better before anyone else could’a gotten it,” Sam claimed proudly, grinning. “We’re buildin’ a baby crib for the lil baby! Gonna make it cute and artsy!”

Looking between the two men and their supplies, Belle knew instantly that the wood they collected came from the junkyard - some of it already rotting, others burned or splintered; their choices in tools already mismatched from what the instructions requested...and she was sure they got it from some sort of online step-by-step website without a proper source. Sighing, Belle let Fish take the tupperware of cookies before placing her palm on her growing belly.

“That’s really sweet of you two to build a crib,” Belle started carefully, being mindful of how the brothers were already shoving cookie after cookie to fill their cheeks like chipmunks. “But, that won’t be necessary. Clyde and I are already looking at cribs that have safety locks and everything it needs. This...doesn’t look too well constructed.”

“Oh, but it is, Belle!” Sam claimed, covering his mouth so she didn’t have to see the drool and chewed up cookies when she made a face. “See? We got prints on how to make it, and we got all this wood!”

“Where exactly did you find this wood?” she asked with a raised brow. “Which store?”

“Mmm, well - not so much of a store,” Fish drawled slowly, causing Belle to place her hand on her hip. “We know you like it when we recycle, yeah? We found spots where some people dump all this good wood, so we took it and cleaned it with soap n’ water from the hose! It’s still all good.”

“Oh, boys,” Belle groaned. “That’s not how it works. When you build a crib, you get a crib set from the store, not going roadkill picking! I’m not going to put my baby in a crib made from molding wood and WikiHow instructions, you guys!”

Both Fish and Sam looked at the mess between them before to each other. It was only a matter of time before Sam shoved Fish’s shoulder, muttering “I told ya so, you moron!”

Before either of them could get started in a roughhousing fight on their hazardous porch, Belle pushed the cooler between them. She knew food distracted them much better than their own tangents. “I said it was sweet of you two to offer to make a crib for us, but we’re not going to use this. You two can probably...use the wood for bonfire nights, or something. Maybe build a birdhouse or something for the critters that come into your yard? I’m sure that would be better use, and you guys can keep building.”

“We wanted to get ya something special, is all,” Sam huffed. “What else are ya gonna need for the baby?”

Belle rolled her eyes with amusement, her head shaking with another sigh. “Diapers, for sure. Maybe some clothes or toys - store bought,” she reminded them before they could ask. “You know, some blankets don’t hurt or different sized hats and mittens for the colder months, depending how fast the baby grows.”

“Well, is it a boy or a girl?” Fish asked, actually catching her off guard for a moment.

“Well, I have a doctor appointment coming up in a couple of days to be able to tell the gender of the baby,” she answered with a shrug. “But, we’re having the results mailed to Mellie, for the baby shower.”

The brother looked at her with confusion. “Wait, so yer not gonna know the baby until when?” Sam gawked at her, making her snort.

“At the baby shower. Mellie’s going to be doing a gender reveal for us,” she explained. “Clyde and I want to be surprised, and it was her idea; I thought it was a fun idea and Clyde was into it, too, so I won’t know what the baby is until then.”

“That’s nuts, Belle!” Sam whined, looking at her belly with a worried tone. “I won’t know what to get for the lil bug ‘til after it’s told at the party; that won’t be fun or fair for us, you know!”

“Wait, what ‘bout those signs them old ladies at the church told us ‘bout?” Fish suggested. “What they say about bellies bein’ low, it’s a boy? ‘Cause of the lil willy danglin’, right?”

“Nah, it’s when the breasts get bigger, you idiot! They gotta sag!” Sam smacked his brother upside the head, earning a groan. “When the boobs swell a lot, it’s gonna be a boy. If it don’t, it’s a girl! Or, look at her hands to tell! Belle, show us yer hands!”

Belle gave them a look that made them both go quiet for a moment. “You guys are too much sometimes. I love you two, but I better not catch either of you trying to stare at my chest or feel my hands, or I will not hesitate to cut your hands and your eyes out.”

“We know,” they both said in unison.

“If you guys want to help pitch in buying a crib, I’m sure Clyde would appreciate it. I know I would,” Belle offered kindly, handing them the package that held their favorite sandwiches and snacks inside. She always had the habit of making them big lunches before they set out to helping with different kitchens and food drives for their community churches. “Or, you can talk to Mellie and ask her to let you in on the gender, so you guys can find ideas on what to get for the baby. The party is next week, so you both have enough time. How about that?”

“Guess that sounds pretty good,” Fish mumbled with a small pout.

Looking around at their little mess, Belle pursed her lips before offering them a smile. “You know, those two sisters who go to your church? The ladies who wear those pretty necklaces that always matches their shoes.” Seeing how she caught both of their attention, Belle was careful to get herself down the steps of the porch. “They always come into the flower shop and talk about how much they wish they had little bird houses or homemade flower pots for their yards, but I don’t sell those at work. Just an idea, so your wood doesn’t go to waste. Bye boys, love you!”

“Love you, Belle!” both men shouted rather joyously before getting to work, making her hide her laugh as she left the yard to where Clyde was keeping his niece amused by having her on his shoulders, letting her mess with his hair and reach tall branches with her newfound height. Once Clyde caught sight of his lovely wife coming back to his side, he became more giddy and reached with his prosthetic hand out for her to take while his real one properly held Sadie in place.

“What were they up to?” Clyde asked politely once Belle took his offer and got to her toes to kiss his cheek. “Lookin’ like they’re making somethin’.”

“They were going to try and build a crib for the baby using rotting wood,” she started, instantly resting her hand on his chest when he immediately stiffened up and turned his head. “But, I stopped them to build flower beds for some single ladies at their church, and help invest in a store-bought crib instead for a baby shower gift. They know not to try and go against my orders when I say I’m not going to put our baby in a dangerous contraption.”

“Me neither, Darlin’,” Clyde grumbled deeply, his voice dropping to his more protective growl that caused Belle to giggle and Sadie to notice the sudden change in his behavior. Belle turned his chin down to her so she could give him a gentle kiss, just to make him feel better and ease up.

“Don’t get grumpy, they’re just trying to be helpful in their own, silly way. They’re definitely more open about being affectionate than Uncle Joe,” she cooed to him, giving him another kiss. “Don’t worry, I’ll let Uncle Joe keep an eye on them. For now, I still want ice cream from that cute shop we take this sweetheart to!” Tickling Sadie’s knee, Belle grinned at seeing the little girl laugh from her uncle’s shoulders.

“Does the baby like ice cream, Aunt Belle?” Sadie asked, causing her uncle to smile.

“Well, I’m having cravings to eat ice cream a lot, so I think the baby likes ice cream!” Belle told her carefully. “Although, we won’t be feeding the baby ice cream, right?”

“No, babies are too young to have ice cream!” Sadie gasped, proud of herself for knowing this fact. “But, when the baby is old enough, I’ll be a nice cousin and share my treats with him. I’ll be gentle!”

“Thank you, sweetie. I’m sure the baby is going to love that.” Belle grinned up to Sadie, which made Clyde smile and forget his previous ‘Big Papa Bear’ instincts kicking in. “Until then, I can eat all the ice cream for the baby, which is a lot safer, right?”

“Yeah! Uncle Clyde, can Auntie have lots of ice cream? I only need one, but Aunt Belle can have one for herself, and more for the baby until he thinks he’s full - I don’t know how much a baby needs to eat, but there’s room inside Aunt Belle’s belly, right?” Sadie asked, her hands tangled in his thick hair, making him chuckle.

Holding hands on the way to the little strip mall, the trio made it to the little ice cream shop hidden between a nail salon and a thrift store that often hired high school kids to work the counters. Getting Sadie her cotton candy ice cream cone and sharing a chocolate one with his wife, Clyde eventually found himself sitting next to his wife conversing with two other mothers while their niece was running around with the other children on the nearby playground. His prosthetic arm carefully resting behind her shoulders on the bench, his flesh hand rest comfortably against her rounding belly. His thumb brushing over the fabric of her dress every time she giggled, his eyes focused on keeping track on Sadie’s whereabouts while she did all the talking.

“How far along are ya now?” a mother asked curiously, her three boys digging on the sandbox area not too far away with their Hot Wheels getting caked with tiny rubble.

“I think twenty-one or twenty-two weeks now,” Belle answered, looking down to her stomach and resting her small hand over Clyde’s, smiling. “Do you remember how long?”

“‘Bout twenty-two, Darlin’,” Clyde responded quietly, having her nod and confirm the answer to the two others. He didn’t indulge himself in the conversation, feeling a bit too shy and focused on his niece at the moment with strangers jumping in and asking questions.

“Oh, how darlin’! Yer practically glowin’ right here, sugar!” the other mother, her daughter currently playing with Sadie on the jungle gym, praised excitedly.

“Well, I think after all that hormonal moments when I cry too easily don’t make me too bright,” Belle confessed with pink cheeks. “Although, I have been getting more happy afterwards, and the walks help.”

“See, that’s the big thing ya gotta keep doin’, ya gotta keep yer perdy smile on to be glowin’!” she responded quickly, as if dishing out important information. “Ya don’t get that too often with first time mothers. Hell, I was nothin’ but a snooty brat and wanted to eat everythin’ in sight; didn’t wanna get off the couch and got headaches too easy.”

Belle nodded carefully, finishing her cone politely before Sadie called for her attention. Wanting to show her aunt how brave she is to jump off the bright orange tube tunnel, Sadie kept waving to Belle until she excused herself to stand up. Clyde immediately jumped to his feet to help her, even though she insisted that she didn’t need help, Belle excitedly held his hand before calling back to her niece to proceed. Once Sadie focused herself in an acrobatic pose and jumped off the three feet tall “cliff”, Belle clapped excitedly when the little girl came running to them.

“Did’ya see me? I was up so high and I jumped all the way down!” Sadie proclaimed proudly, earning Belle to hold her cheeks and kiss her forehead.

“You’re so brave, honeybun!” Belle praised sweetly, stroking her niece’s blonde hair when the girl rest her cheek against the top of her tummy. “I saw you climb onto the tunnel and I couldn’t believe how brave you are!”

“And I didn’t hurt my knee or nothin’!” Sadie grinned, then looked to Clyde. “We won’t tell Momma ‘bout this, right? It’s our secret day!”

“You bet, sweetie,” Clyde nodded, getting ready to scoop her up and place her on his shoulders for the walk home, leaving Belle to bid her goodbyes to the other mothers. However, hearing their whispers caught his attention.

“Your man may be the quiet type, but I can tell he’s very excited for the baby. He’s probably glowing as much as you are, if I may be honest.”

“He’s such a gentleman, you can tell he’s so excited to be a daddy; I wish my boyfriend was the same with my firstborn, since he wanted to have a baby first. He is gonna be so protective and lovin’, you can see it on his face!”

Feeling his cheeks grow hot, Clyde cleared his throat and kept his head down while leaving the park hand-in-hand with his wife and Sadie holding his hair for support. He knew Belle didn’t miss it, her cute, little smile on her face remaining the rest of the way home and until Jimmy came to pick up Sadie, which left them alone for her to cuddle up to Clyde’s side. Clyde eventually ended up a blushing mess with Belle’s hand gently rubbing up and down his chest and her lips giving him gentle kisses along his jaw and cheek.

“Have you thought of any names lately?” she asked him after a while of cuddling against him, making him blink in realization and blush a bit. “Everyone has been suggesting names and guessing what the gender is, even though only Mellie knows.”

Clyde hummed softly, turning his chin to kiss the top of her head. “Lil bit,” he admitted. “Not much, though… Keep thinkin’ of generic names, but I dunno if I want it too generic.”

“Tell me some,” Belle grinned, making him chuckle and wrap his arm behind her, keeping her warm while cuddling on the couch.

“Thought of Daniel, George or Georgie, maybe Peter, for a boy. Then, Elizabeth, Mary or Kimberly...not really good name ideas, huh.”

“They’re not bad,” Belle defended, yet he knew by the small wrinkle of her nose that she wasn’t a huge fan of them. “I’ve been thinking we should find a name that’s special for both of us, or has a good history… How did your parents name you, handsome?”

His memory kicking in to when he would go to his mom and dad, asking the very question, Clyde smiled softly when he rest his cheek against her. “I’m named after me n’ Jimmy’s godfather. His name was Clyde and he was my dad’s best friend...and was actually my ma’s first boyfriend.”

“What?” Belle gasped, looking up at him and he laughed.

“Well, if you count fourth grade an’ datin’ for ten minutes as a first boyfriend,” he snorted. “Anyway, he was my ma’s best friend, then became dad’s in junior high. They all grew up together and all that; he was the best man in the weddin’, the whole deal. Apparently, he was really handsome and funny - blond, muscular and a cute dimple with some nice blue eyes.”

“He sounds like a nice man,” she complimented and he nodded in agreement. “How come I haven’t met him?”

Clyde exhaled. “He died before I was born, actually,” Clyde confessed, feeling Belle frown against his shoulder before cuddling closer to him. “He was a volunteer fireman when Jimmy was a kid, and one day he got stuck in a burning building, rescuing a lady who was trapped. He managed to get her out to safety, but the roof collapsed and he got pinned. Ma asked if they could name me after him, n’ Pa agreed right away; I was gonna be named after my dad’s pa, but they weren’t close.”

“That’s sad, but also very sweet. Naming you after someone special to the both of them, that’s wonderful,” Belle smiled sadly, snuggling her head against him, her head on his chest. “I’m sure you lived up to his name well: You’re a very handsome, strong and wonderful man who helps people for good.”

“Thank you, Darlin’,” Clyde cooed. “Since ya asked me...where did the name Rosabelle come from for yer folks?”

“Ah...my grandparents named me actually.” Adjusting herself to curl more comfortably against him, she gently tugged Clyde’s arm from behind her to wrap around her shoulder. Clyde simply wrapped both of his arms around her and cradled her properly into his lap, not minding the bump that shield their unborn baby. “They named me after the nurse who found me, after my mom left the hospital with me still in the room she was stationed in.”

“Ya serious, baby?” Clyde frowned, his brows knitting together with his growing irritation. When Belle nodded, Clyde huffed. “Jus’ a lil newborn, and she up and left? What kind of mother does that to a lil baby that was jus’ born?”

Belle shrugged, mostly uncaring of the mention of her mother. Between them, it was always like this: Clyde having this bewildered expression at something her biological parents have done, and she didn’t care. To her, they weren’t parents, but strangers. “Anyway, there was a nurse named Rosabelle Brown who heard me crying because I was hungry, and she came to the room to find that my own mother cut the IVs and wires hooked to her, stole some supplies and left me behind. She called my grandpa and both he and grandma came with the cops.

“Rosabelle was the one to feed me my first bottle and made sure I was safe until my grandparents came to get me. She told them how well-behaved and sweet I was to her, despite being a newborn,” Belle grinned and rolled her eyes a bit. “They thought it was only right to name me after her, but I did get to see her a lot when she retired, and she would join my grandmother with her pageant events. She was a very sweet old lady. Very beautiful. She had this pretty dark skin and curly hair that she had a favorite headband on to decorate it; she was always smiling and had the most prettiest hazel eyes, too.”

“Still,” Clyde exhaled with a sort of sorrow, catching her attention to look up. “For anyone, even if she didn’t want to keep ya...to just leave ya like that, all alone.”

Belle’s eyes softened and she snuggled closer to him. “I was what my mom called a ‘mistake’, because she couldn’t hide her pregnancy from my grandparents and they held her in place up until I was born - she originally wanted to go off with my father to California, or something, but they didn’t let her. She didn’t even tell them she was in labor when she was suppose to be under ‘house-arrest’ or whatever,” she rolled her eyes. Her hands coming to rest against her growing belly, a warm smile spread on her face. “However, I know this precious little angel is nowhere a mistake. I can’t wait to see this little baby’s eyes open when they’re born, and tell them their first ‘I love you’ when I get to hold them, and tell them how special they are…”

Clyde’s only hand joined hers on her tummy, his lips instantly kissing her head, shoulder, neck and cheek. “Baby, you weren’t a mistake - you were a blessin’, no matter what yer mother said. You were a blessin’ to yer grandparents and Joe Bang; a blessin’, sweet angel and most special gift to me,” he told her honestly, nuzzling his nose to her head. “Makin’ me fall in real love n’ lovin’ me back, now givin’ me a family, all that, it’s jus’... Yer gonna be a great momma, Darlin’.”

Hearing a familiar groan, Belle leaned away from her husband and carefully turned around to find him with tears in his eyes. Frowning, Belle reached to hold his head with both hands, wiping a falling tear off his cheek. “Clyde, what’s wrong?” she asked quietly, only for him to shudder and pull her into his embrace again.

“Yer jus’ gonna be a wonderful mama, baby girl,” Clyde told her in a thick voice, hiding his face into her hair as she lightly rubbed his back. “This lil baby of ours is gonna know how much mama loves ‘em, how much you want ‘em and make the world feel wonderful, like ya did with me.”

“Oh, honey,” Belle aww-ed softly, lifting his ace to give him a gentle kiss, which he returned rather desperate and needing to express his affection for her. Belle smiled against his kisses, massaging his temples carefully when he pulled back to try and breathe. “My sweet man, you don’t need to cry over this, my handsome husband,” she cooed, kissing his cheek and jaw. “Of course I will be loving our little baby, but you know for a fact you’re going to be such a spoiling daddy. Gonna spoil with kisses, and treats - even when you know dinner is about to be ready in just a little bit. You’ll tell stories well until they’re knocked out and play so much.”

Clyde nodded. “Y-yeah,” he sobbed, a sort of airy laugh leaving his lips when he saw how brightly his wife grinned, knowing him so well. “Yeah, y-ya know I would… You would catch me sneakin’ treats, tellin’ me how naughty I am and our kid laughin’ at me, huh.”

“Our happy little baby, which parents who love them sooo much,” Belle corrected carefully and Clyde sniffed and nodded with strong enthusiasm. “Like how I was loved by my grandparents, and how you were loved by your parents.”

“Yeah, maybe more than that - gotta lot of love to give to such a tiny, tiny lil thing,” he insisted and Belle smiled and kissed his big nose. “Gonna have to spoil you and the baby, so much.”

“I think we both look forward to it.”

Clyde chuckled through his tears, burying his face into her neck and kissing any exposed skin he could get ahold of.

“So much love, sweetheart,” Clyde insisted lovingly, holding Belle and their unborn baby as close as possible. “So much. So much love…”

Fun fact: Despite knowing the gender of the baby between Week 16-19 of the pregnancy, parents have the option to wait and have the gender concealed in a thick envelope and mailed to wherever you want!!

taglist: @ayatimascd @kyloxfem @kylo-renne @damndriver @formerly-anonhamster @oh-adam @redhairedfeistynerd @rosalynbair@deliriumdoll @bellaren18

#pilotanonwrites #clyde logan x reader #clyde x reader #clyde logan #gardeniaclydefic #drabble #pilotanonblerb #reader insert #oc/reader insert

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brattywriters-anonymous · 6 years

Text

A Rose in Harlem

Chapter two.

Oc x Erik story

Based on Teyana Taylor’s VII & KTSE

Warnings: Cursing, physical contact, feels!

Winter, 2013.

Syd cursed out as she felt the stinging pain of her broken and bloodied nail. Erik tried to grab her right arm, not even phased by the dark red bruise forming on his left cheek. Syd pulled her arm back and yelled, “Get off of me!” Erik pressed backward, throwing his hands up. Myles saw the disaster on Syd’s right index finger. “Oh, baby, That nail gotta come off!” He grabbed a fresh bottle of Dasani, poured the water on top of her finger. Diluted blood streamed down the concrete. “It hurts so bad! MM MM.” Syd shook her head over and over.

Erik approached her again, with napkins and a first aid kit. Before she could protest his presence, he grabbed her right hand, placing her index finger into the napkin. “Hey, Syeda. I am so sorry.” At first glance, she paid attention to his chest and the necklaces that were on display. He had a linked chain with a silver ring attached to it, and another smaller chain with the letter “N” on it. Then a sudden stinging sensation hit her injured finger. He put peroxide on it, to sterilize it. “That’s what you wanted to apologize for?” She yelped out in pain. She looked back up at his lips as they formed a wide smile. “Well, for that too. And for being too forward. I’m from Oakland baby, we state what we want. Closed mouths don’t get fed.” He wrapped her finger in the Band Aid, and kissed the uncovered part as he winked at her. She couldn’t deny what her body was doing in reaction to the care that he took for her in those few moments. In the December brisky yet-sunny weather, Syeda was feeling rather--hot. She briefly exhaled as he surrendered her hand.

After a successful meeting went completely south at the end, Syd retreated to her favorite local Coffee Shop. Harlem Coffee Co. She gotten Chai tea and a croissant. She needed to calm her nerves so after her 30 second encounter with “Erik” or whoever he is, “N!” She scoffed aloud before opening her macbook. She began to shuffle through photos that she took on her own, with a few models that were current students at her Alma mater, Columbia University, out to Highbridge for the official first shoot for UPTXWN. She wanted to represent not only Harlem, but all of uptown. Where it’s been, where it is, and where it’s going.So she did the first shoot on the High Bridge. She grabbed her Canon Rebel T5i that she bought herself for her birthday, and took some sunrise shots at 6 am on an early July morning. She really took the photos, and uploaded them to her laptop. She was too preoccupied with her showrunning position for fall fashion week that she didn’t even take the time out to edit them. They sat in her Macbook for over 5 months and it was about time that she started editing. Simultaneously, she was texting Myles informing him that the next shoots would be in Sugar Hill and Marcus Garvey Park and to blast the text and email out of a 10:00 am call time for the Following Wednesday and Thursday.

MYles🧡💁🏾‍♂️✨

Are you okay? I know you broke that nail pretty bad.

Yeah. 😩It hurts, but I’m good.

Alright. I’m sending the texts out now, emails will be out by tonight, l8r.✌🏾

Syd took a sip of her tea she saw a name pop up on her laptop, coming from a contact, “Sin”

Sin

Syd, it’s Yasin. The plumber. I know you said you’ll let me know if you’re free for a late lunch. You free now?

Syd read over each word then she saw three dots pop up at the bottom of the screen.

Sin

…

Turn around👀

Syd’s face turned into one of confusion. She made a 180 to see Yasin sitting on a table in the corner of the shop. She smiled as he motioned her over to him. She retrieved her belongings and walked over to the booth. “I was just about to ask you to meet me at my favorite coffee shop, and here you are. Girl, you must be an angel or somethin’.” Yasin drew across the table to her direction, he motioned out to her right hand and saw the Band Aid. “What happened Syd? You okay?” She brushed it off. “Yeah it’s fine, this guy was being a complete asshole so I socked his ass.” Yasin’s eyes fanned completely opened when she told him what happened. “Oh, so you fight guys out here?” He sat back in his chair. She reached out for his hand and honestly stated, “Only if I have to.” and smiled. Yasin side eyed Syeda, trying to get a read on her. She came off so mysterious. As old vinyl records of 90s and early 2000s music sprawled out on the living room area floor of her apartment ran across his mind, he grabbed her hand and asked, “So what you about, Syd?”

Yasin and Syd spent the next 3 hours discussing education, Islam, politics, and polyamory. Sin let Syd know that just because his mother allowed it and his father participated, doesn’t means that it was what he wanted out of life. “I’m 27 years old, it’s time that I find the right woman to build a family with. To live the life that Allah gifted to us.” Syd was about to be 25 her next birthday in two months. She let Sin know that even though she understood the overall benefit of having a 3 or more person income household, she wanted something that was exclusively hers. “I share my creativity with the world. I share my image to the world. I don’t want to share my love to the world too. I want something sacred.” Yasin nodded as he paused and took a look at his watch. “Oh shit. Ma, you lucky I got finished with all of my clients before I got here, I would’ve been late to all of em by now. It’s 6 pm.” Syd scanned over to the top right corner of her Macbook 6:30 pm. She’d only gotten half of the pictures done, so it looked like she was going to be pulling another all nighter. “Oh, I’m Sorry.” She started packing up her things and getting up. “I have to finish this anyway. So I’m gonna go back home.” Yasin stood with her and assisted her out of the booth. They walked out to a beautiful orange sunset, almost complete. Syd’s hair blew along with the wind again. As she swept the hair out of her face, Yasin reached his arms out and pulled her in slowly. “I had fun today Syd. To think, we met earlier this morning to you cussing me out.” Syd playfully nudge his shoulder. “Yeah, you were late. Which in turn, made me late for my business meeting.” “Let me make it up to you.” She tried to back away but his grip trumped her attempts. “How?” She raised an eyebrow. “Let me take you out tomorrow night. My homie is having a block party up Washington Heights. You wanna slide through?” Sin looked her in her eyes, she couldn’t evade his staring. Syd responded by slightly pecking him on the lips. “Sure.”

Syeda wrestled with her keys, finding the door key to let her into the building of 63 Morningside Avenue. She finally unlocked the hallway door, she sat at the bottom of the stairs to take off her extended high heels. She overheard Ziggy talking to Erik, “Yo I don’t know what you were thinking earlier, man. Syd don’t play.” She smiled when Zig made the infamous statement. She scurried up the steps and tried to silently unlock her door. CLINK! Her keys fell to the ground and all chatting stopped across the hall. The door opened. “Syd.” Her name sounded like honey coming from Erik’s lips. She slightly closed her eyes to it. She turned to face Apartment 2B. “N.” “N?” Erik was puzzled. She pointed at her own neck. “Your necklace.” He looked down and jumped. “Oh. Yeah. My father’s side of the family is from Africa. My African name is N’Jadaka. Zig is my cousin on my mom’s side.” he pointed over to 2B.

Syd looked stunned, shocked. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just figured you were lying about--” “About what? My name?” he chuckled. “Nah lil mama. Besides, I don’t think I could lie to you even if I wanted to.” She exhaled. It was light but still heavy enough for Erik to hear. She took a step backward into her apartment but as soon as she hit the closed door, she yelped. “OUCH!” She held her right hand with her left, dropping her heels. Erik immediately stepped in and grabbed her shoes. “Here, let me help you out.” He turned the key and opened the door. Syd turned the light on in the foyer area. “Thank you, N’Jadaka.” She repeated his name in a smooth manner that was pleasing to his ears. “You’re welcome, mooie bloem.” Syd perked up when she heard the familiar dutch nickname that Mr. V gave her. “Yeah, when you bumped into me, I stood by the stairwell..in shock I guess.” He laughed and continued, “I heard him call you beautiful flower in his language. I’m intrigued. Why?” Syd closed the door behind her and locked it, figuring that he was staying for a while, because he walked further into the studio, by her couch.

She placed her keys on the hanger beside the door, shimmied her bubble coat off, placing it on a misplaced dining room chair. “My middle name. It’s Mariposa. The cuban national flower. My mom was Cuban and African American. Afro latina. She was born in Cuba. Her and her family moved to Philadelphia when she was 8. Her father converted to Islam, her and the rest of the family soon followed. She met my dad, He’s also Afro Latino. They had me, Syeda Mariposa Diaz.”

Erik marveled at her story, appreciated that she knew her ancestry. “You have a beautiful name. So your mom honored her Cuban background and gave you an Islamic name?” He finally took a seat, awaiting her response. She nodded and sat next to him, “Yup. That was the idea.” He reached for her right hand, “May I?” She hesitated, then gave in, “Don’t break any of my other nails! They charge for fixing broken nails!” Syd looked Erik in his eyes, smiling. He grasped her hand and kissed it with the same tenderness as he did earlier and finally spoke, “Never.” She blinked a couple times to get herself out of the trance she found herself in after his lips left her hand, she actually had to look away from him as he removed the Band Aid from her finger.

“I heard your right hand man, he said you have to remove the nail. You haven’t done that yet.” He held her finger closer to her overhead lamp so he could further investigate. “Hell no! It hurts. I was going to go to the nail shop to get it removed.” “For what? So they can charge you for something you could’ve done? Nah. I gotchu.” He quickly stepped out of her studio. She shot up and began to panic a bit.

Oh my gosh! Syd, what are you doing?! You just letting this man take care of you like some damsel… Even though he is the reason why you’re hurt.---He Looks so damn GOOD though. Damn. He can’t be in here for too long!

Syd attempted to press the power button on her phone but it didn’t turn on. Signaling that it died. “Shit.” She mumbled. She shuffled around the back end of the studio where her bed and nightstand were. She reached over the opposite side of her bed, closest to her window, for her charger. She heard a laugh and turned over in fear. “Damn. My apologies Syd. It’s just me. I needed my first aid kit. You got tweezers right?” She pulled herself off of her queen sized mattress and retrieved her manicure kit from her bathroom. “In here.”

“AHHHH!” Syd exclaimed as Erik used the tweezers to pull the remaining acrylic off of Syd’s bleeding finger. “There. The bleeding should definitely stop after this.” He sprayed the alcohol on a cotton swab and patted on her nail bed. She squealed in shock as he wrapped a new Band Aid on her patched up digit. She took her hand back, relieved that the pain is subsiding. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” “You’re welcome. No sweat. I was in the Navy. I helped out injured people all the time. I’m used to it.” Erik spat out as he returned the manicure kit back in the bathroom, washing his hands. Once he dried them he clapped them together, and cut the light off. “Okay beautiful. Don’t go slapping other niggas upside the head. I gotta bounce.” Syd followed his trail to her front door, “Bye Erik. Thank you again.”

🌹

#erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger imagine #erik kilmonger imagines #erik killmonger #black panther fanfiction #erik stevens #n'jadaka #black panther imagine #black panther imagines #fanfic #arih #black panther au

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fingersinhisass · 6 years

Note

DO ALL THE QUESTIONS FOR AL, MY FAVORITE, BELOVED, BEST BOY.

YES MA’AM OF COURSE MA’AM

1. what does music mean to them? what role does it play in their life?

he likes it well enough, he’s always enjoyed dancing and is an incurable habitual whistler. the only songs that really have any deep meaning for him are probably the lullabies his mom would sing to him when he was just a lil’ kid, which have been passed down in his family for generations. (he 100% sings them to his own kids when he has them.)

2. if you were to hug them, what would they smell like?

pipe smoke with a hint of lavender. he keeps lavender sachets in all of his clothing drawers and his handkerchiefs all smell like it. his mom grows lavender on her farm so he picks some every time he visits

3. what’s their favorite food?

the simple, rich soup his mom would make in the winter on the rare times they had a bit of meat to spare, but also just soup in general. he’s fond of a good soup.

4. what’s their least favorite food?

porridge. yech. bad memories.

5. do they like nature? if they do, what’s their favorite natural setting (woods, beach, desert, lake, etc.)?

he likes nature from a distance. he doesn’t like nature if it ruins his clothes. which is most of the time. generally he prefers to stay away from any sort of hiking or camping – he’s a city boy at heart – but he appreciates the beauty of the open fields around his mother’s farm.

6. what’s their most prominent personality trait?

he’s. he’s an idiot. an exceptionally charming, exceptionally kind idiot.

7. what’s their mbti?

jeez idk. i don’t even know my own mbti

8. hogwarts house?

probably gryffindor

9. d&d alignment?

neutral good

10. if they were in a modern high school clique (jocks, goths, hipsters, geeks, etc.), what would it be? why?

oof. he would hang out with the delinquents because at that age he was also a delinquent and also just. noticeably poor. he’d generally keep to himself but he’s got a pretty hot temper and i wouldn’t be surprised if he got into fights a lot over shit kids would say.

11. tea or coffee?

both? coffee for the caffeine if he’s working a case, tea for leisure and pleasure

12. dusk or dawn?

dawn. for some reason he strikes me as an early bird. but also the kind of person who stays up all night doing something they’re intensely focused on and getting no sleep? but when he is getting reasonable sleep, he likes to wake up early. he likes the sunrise

13. country or city?

city for sure. he likes his mom’s farm, but he went back to the city after he left the gang for a reason – it stole his heart a long, long time ago and he couldn’t stay away.

14. what do they do in their free time? do they have any hobbies?

al isn’t the kind of person who really has free time – he’s kind of a workaholic when it comes to his job since it’s intensely important to him. that being said, when he does have free time, he likes to read poetry and go see live performances in taverns, things like that. he’s a sap for a good romance story.

15. do they like animals? if they do, which ones?

he likes animals, but he’s terrible at keeping them. i think he had a big ferret in the campaign once that he stole???? no idea what happened to that

16. how are they in platonic relationships?

he has very few of those, considering his devotion to his job and his sketchy past. he’s the kind of person that’s liked by many but truly known by few – he’s outwardly charming and charismatic and a very likable person, but people who’ve known him for years realize frequently that they know next to nothing about him.

17. how are they in romantic relationships?

absolutely doting, sometimes to the point of suffocation for some people. he’s all about giving himself over to the relationship – when he does things he cares about, he puts himself into them totally and completely. he doesn’t halfass anything. he’s also an absolute hopeless romantic and a surprisingly eloquent poet, despite the fact that he’s not very smart, so he likes to shower his partners in little surprises and gifts and thoughtful love letters.

18. do they have any insecurities about themselves?

hoo boy. he considers himself a monster. full stop.

19. what’s their favorite genre of book or movie (if they like to read or watch movies)?

oh romance, hands down.

20. what would their dream vacation look like?

see: his and shaelle’s beach honeymoon tbh

21. how many hours of sleep do they get on average?

oh lord. between insomnia, nightmares, and and all-nighters for work, he is a bad sleeper. at best he gets maybe 2-5 hours; at worst he gets none. luckily he’s an elf, so. i don’t think technically they’re supposed to need to sleep? but fuck it, he needs to recharge SOMEHOW, so i say he needs sleep.

22. what is their body shape? are they trim or tubby? tol or smol?

he’s tall for an elf, about 5′10, 5′11. thin, wiry body with taut, lean muscle. shoulders a bit on the wider side and a trim waist. legs for fucking years, y’all. he hansom.

23. if you had to pick five words/phrases (objects, places, weather, etc.) to describe your oc’s aesthetic, what would you pick?

the curl of smoke from a pipe, a man’s silhouette outlined against a streetlight, the soft, warm ambient chatter and music of a bar, golden cufflinks and a sharply pressed suit, a purple ribbon tied around a roll of parchment with a flourish

24. do they hold onto grudges?

only if the wrongdoing was against someone he cares about

25. are they fiscally responsible? or would they prefer spending with wild abandon?

having grown up in deep poverty, he tries his best to be frugal with his money. that being said, he is very, very weak to neckties and is absolutely an impulsive spender.

26. what’s their favorite kind of weather?

hot, lazy summer days and soft, mild spring evenings with just the slightest nip to the air

27. how old would they be if they didn’t know how old they are? (e.g., what’s their mental age?)

oh jeez, that’s hard. he’s been through some fuckin shit. probably like. mid to late forties? or the elf equivalent of that. so a good fifteen to twenty elf years older

28. what’s their opinion of children? how are they around children?

he fucking ADORES children and gets along with them fantastically. he thinks they are incredible, fantastic little creatures and dreams of being a dad.

29. what’s their sexual orientation?

probably pansexual, with a bit of a preference for men, although he ends up marrying a woman.

30. what’s their favorite color?

any and all shades of purple.

31. what temperature would they prefer the room to be?

he runs a bit warm-blooded, so probably in the high sixties, but he’s also not one to pick a fight over the thermostat.

32. how mannered are they? how proper do they act?

he’s very, very lucky he’s so naturally charming. he was able to pick up on things very quickly once he started mingling with higher society, but he still is more inclined to dislike nobles simply because of his upbringing.

33. how do they dress?

very well, for within his budget. he’s a detective, so he’s not rich, but he’s certainly better off than he was as a child. still, he loves clothes and looking good, so he dresses like a gentleman as much as possible. he’s very fashionable.

34. which season do they prefer? why?

summer. lots of good childhood memories associated with it.

35. what is their “morning ritual”?

if he gets the chance to actually sleep through the night, he wakes up, makes himself some tea, washes his face, brushes his teeth, combs and styles his hair, chooses an outfit and puts it on, smokes his pipe and grabs a newspaper on the way out to work. otherwise he does all of that but without the waking up part and with very, very strong coffee instead of tea.

36. what is their “nighttime ritual”?

on the nights he isn’t working a case into the wee hours of the morning, he takes a bath with a glass of wine and some poetry or a romance novel, then brushes his teeth, changes into his pajamas, and reads in bed until he feels ready to fall asleep.

37. have they ever had a one-sided crush?

no, actually. again, he is remarkably lucky he’s so goddamn charming. usually people he’s interested in tend to be interested right back. whether that goes past the initial mutual attraction is a different story.

38. do they like art? what form?

he’s very fond of music and writing, and admires paintings and illustrations as well

39. how do they read a book (if at all)? slowly, over the course of a few days, or within a few hours? do they sit, stand, lay down, all of the above?

usually he has to do his reading in the brief snippets of free time he can snatch up between work, so it can take him months to finish a fairly short book. he usually reads either in bed or on the loveseat in the living room of his apartment, and frequently falls asleep reading in both.

40. do they have any recurring dreams/nightmares?

oh yep. all sorts of stuff he regrets from his time as a thief/assassin. he’s literally got a whole selection of nightmares that like to replay themselves from night to night.

41. what would be their favorite subject in school? (e.g., English, Math, Science, History, Recess, etc.)?

oh english for sure, he has great appreciation for the written word

42. what physical features do they find attractive on other people?

kalsjdf;adjfklajsdklf idk. he likes shaelle’s hands and hair and neck – he finds them all very elegant and lovely and they’re probably written about in some of the letters he sends her, ngl.

43. are they patient or impatient? what situations would make them feel one or the other?

he’s generally pretty patient, especially when conducting investigations, but he has a very short fuse when it comes to people he perceives as committing an injustice or a wrongdoing. his sense of justice is very strong.

44. what is their opinion of authority?

sometimes it should be respected, other times it shouldn’t. it’s all circumstantial. usually based on whether he agrees with them or not.

45. what is their opinion of tradition?

he doesn’t have much tradition to speak of, other than the bit of elvish culture his mother passed on to him. it’s very important to him because he associates it with her.

46. are they into folklore and/or conspiracy theories? or do they think both are garbage?

he doesn’t really care about them either way, tbh.

47. if they were to have a “happy place” they retreated to in their mind during stressful/boring situations, what would that place be? what would be in it?

a comfortable study space with a crackling fireplace, full bookshelves, and a cozy armchair to read or fall asleep in.

48. what is one value they hold higher than any other, in others and in themselves? (e.g., loyalty, intelligence, compassion, responsibility, etc.)

probably compassion. like i said, he’s got a very strong sense of justice and cares deeply for the wellbeing of others, especially innocents.

49. what is/are their love language(s)?

gifts for sure

50. what is their opinion of cheese?

excellent. he enjoys a good cheese every now and again.

#alphonse #it speaks #i love my son............. i love talking about him #thank u carly

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ohmahree-blog · 6 years

Text

99 IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name? Omari Rashad Beckham

Where and when were you born? 3/18/1993

Who are your parents? Rodney Beckham; Rodney is an established real estate agent. He’s a firm believer in discipline and earning everything w/ no handouts. Though he’s stern on me, he’s a gentle giant to my mama. Giselle Beckham; She’s an elementary school teacher with tons of patience. She's very vocal and has an answer to everything. Though she’s molded me to be her very own mama’s boy, she still allowed my dad to make me into a man.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? My brother, Demetrius, passed when I was 14 and he was 15 from drowning. He was my best friend, my partner in crime and even my role model despite the closeness in our age. Our dad taught us to always have each other’s back and we never strayed from that lesson. Demetrius was more rebellious but I was never one to say no to the adventures, including our last mischievous episode where we snuck out to hang with friends at the lake.

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. I currently live in a 3-bedroom 2-story home in Los Angeles that was sold to me by my dad with a small ass discount. It’s not a massive house but it’s my own sanctuary for myself, my shoes and my Frenchy.

What is your occupation? I am a retired drug dealer shoe store owner.

Write a full physical description of yourself. A meal. Too many tattoos to count. Several marks from a curious childhood.

To which social class do you belong? Lower middle class.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? I’m allergic to kiwi and I’m honestly lactose intolerant but I often ignore it.

Are you right- or left-handed? Right-handed

What does your voice sound like? I wouldn’t know how to describe it tbh.

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? “Honestly” & “and shit”

What do you have in your pockets? Nothing.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? I have to count steps on when taking stairs. I laugh alot, no matter the emotion I’m feeling, I laugh. I stare people in the eyes when they talk to me, I don’t like not seeing a person’s face when they’re physically in my presence talking to me.

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? It was a typically decent childhood. I had a strict ass father, but that didn’t stop me and my brother from rebelling and doing our own thing.

What is your earliest memory? Being dropped off at a daycare and crying like a lil’ bitch until my mama sat down on the carpet with me. I think she snuck out on me at one point though.

How much schooling have you had? Despite all my setbacks, I graduated college with my bachelor’s degree.

Did you enjoy school? Yeah, bitches, sports and I was the plug on campus. Even though all of that got me in trouble with the laws a few times.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? My dad, my brother, the streets.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. My brother, he was fearless and he was wise beyond his time. He put me onto hella game. My father as well. Even though we bumped heads alot, he taught me valuable lessons and also left me to learn a few lessons on my own.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? No chaos here, typical teenage angst at times but it was fine once the dust settled.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? A professional football player.

As a child, what were your favorite activities? Playing sports, real life and on game consoles.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? I was a curious child. I also liked to test my limits and boundaries, what’s the word for that? I was a follower, but only to my brother.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? Of course I was. Isaiah was one of my first best friends after we beat each other the fuck up. He was territorial and a smart ass. Still is. But he was loyal and a host of other things. My brother was another one. The rest were just friends in passing. People knowing me but me not knowing them was common.

When and with whom was your first kiss? This big booty bitch named Stacy in 5th grade. She was in 7th. I counted her as my first kiss because them other lil kisses was nothing compared to that.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? Absolutely not. I lost it in 8th grade to my homeboy’s big sister.

Describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. After my brother died, I shut down. Nothing was worth experiencing without my him with me. I briefly dropped out of school unbeknownst to my parents and that’s when I got introduced to the trap. I started doing runs for the big guy and the money was good. That lasted for almost 8 years until the last time my parents had to bail me out of jail and gave me an ultimatum that was far worse than the one from the judge.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? The grand opening of my shoe store.

Who has had the most influence on you? My family

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Graduating from college

What is your greatest regret? Letting my dad down and making my mama cry.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? I can’t say.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? Absolutely.

When was the time you were the most frightened? When I thought I would get 10 years in the feds.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? I had a wet dream while taking a nap at school and messed up my pants.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? I’d have my brother here with me to make life worth living.

What is your best memory? Going to Disneyland when I was like 10 with my family.

What is your worst memory? I have too many.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic

What is your greatest fear? My parents dying, because then I’d really be alone.

What are your religious views? Organized religion isn’t for me, but I believe in the higher power.

What are your political views? I’m for what’s right.

What are your views on sex? Sex is a choice and should never be anything otherwise.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? Yes. Various reasons but most importantly to protect.

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Hurt a child.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? Yeah eventually

What do you believe makes a successful life? Being able to change another person’s life.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? Depends on the recipient and the circumstance

Do you have any biases or prejudices? Of course.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? Yeah, I still have a conscience and I believe in karma.

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? My family.

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? I’m good to people as long as they’re good to me. My vibe depends on yours.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? My mom, she’s a gem.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? My father, he deserves it.

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. Isaiah & Hendrix. They’re my greater thirds. They get me.

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. My wife’s name is Krystal. She’s amazing and beautiful and patient and I don’t deserve her.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. Yeah, but then the government told us to cut that shit short.

What do you look for in a potential lover? Everything I see between my parents. Patience, love, sacrifice, honesty, shit like that.

How close are you to your family? Very, they’re all I have.

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? No, not yet and I just haven’t found the right person or it just wasn’t the right time. But soon.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? Hendrix

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? Not really. I would say my parents but I feel like they’ve done all the protecting they could.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? I wish I knew.

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? Nobody that I can think of.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? I avoid conflict. I know what I’m capable of when upset, so it’s always best for me to avoid.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? Somewhat. Just depends if I become too uncomfortable I have to do something to fix it then.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? No, I have to people watch in order to become comfortable in social settings. I can’t watch too many people.

Do you care what others think of you? Only those that I love.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? I like to draw now, spend time with my peeps, try different strains of weed, nap.

What is your most treasured possession? My store, Urban Soles

What is your favorite color? Black

What is your favorite food? Anything with shrimp. or wings.

What, if anything, do you like to read? The 48 Laws of Power

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? Music of course, I love watching movies. If I watch a series it has to have completed seasons, if I can’t binge I dont want it.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? I smoke weed and drink when I’m out. It’s not out of control but I don’t plan on stopping.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? If I’m not with my wife now, I’m out with the boys, probably at Zay’s club.

What makes you laugh? Any and everything to be honest.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Rude mfs, bullies, people that are just unnecessarily disrespectful.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? Wake up my wife. Watch Netflix. Eat. Scroll social media.

How do you deal with stress? Smoke, drink, sleep.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? Spontaneous.

What are your pet peeves? People eating crunchy things, metal scraping metal, crowded spaces, poorly laced shoes, my time being wasted, people that are late on my time.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? I wake up bout 8 or 9. Check emails for the most part. Stuff my face. Go to the store and handle bidness. Make time for food a few times throughout the day and then come back home.

What is your greatest strength as a person? I’m reliable and always come through.

What is your greatest weakness? I don’t always know how to say no.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? My temper.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? I’m in between.

Are you generally organized or messy? Organized for the most part.

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. I’m good at getting my way, making others happy annnnd drawing. I’m terrible at lying, singing and admitting when I’m wrong.

Do you like yourself? Yeah, I’m cool.

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? Franchising my business.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? I see myself being a father, happily married. Having a second store, maybe 3rd. Happy, healthy.

If you could choose, how would you want to die? Peacefully in my sleep.

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. Update my will, write letters to everyone I love, sleep.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? My big heart.

What three words best describe your personality? Random, Spontaneous, Protective

What three words would others probably use to describe you? Annoying, Funny, Mannish

If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? Don’t be scared to be who you supposed to be. If they don’t fuck with it, fuck em.

#( »┈ ʙᴄᴋʜᴍ ¬ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ ]

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latina4rmbx · 4 years

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Tomorrow isn’t Promised

I saw an ad for a game on Facebook. A clip really. There were couples staring at each other. Some crying, some laughing nervously. All I remember was this one profound question: "If this were to be our last conversation, what is one thing you’d never want me to forget?”

A seed was born from the question. I figured, I’d ask people. At first, I asked the closest people to me, then I expanded the circle. Needless to say, I freaked a whole bunch of people out. Before I get to the responses I want you to know that a lot of these are deeply personal, so I will not include names. Some people who follow me on here, MAY know some of the individuals, but not all.

I am NOT sick. I am totally ok. I found the question so profound, I HAD to ask it. I have no regrets.

If there was a way to share all of the screen shots, I swear I would but trust me, there were just so many.

Some people responded with just 1 thing. Some people responded with long beautiful messages. They are all appreciated and I will forever hold them dear to my heart.

All, but 4 people, received a response to the question from me. I won’t divulge my responses because as soon as I pressed send, they no longer belonged solely to me. Just know a good response for most was: you made me cry.

I’ll be typing the responses to the question. Some people gave multiple responses so I may give both.

I had a conversation with my confidante and she says that this is amazing. Sort of like a living eulogy. She asked me if I knew these things the people were saying. I explained to her that in truth, I never really thought about it. In the end I learned 2 valuable lessons:

Younger males mainly speak of themselves.

You never really know the profound impact you have had on another persons life. You’ll see what I mean.

Without further ado, here are the responses, in no particular order:

To value your worth. To never forget that I love you and the kids. That you’re a great writer. A great friend. A great mother. I can’t name just one. Don’t forget to give your friends a blanket.

That I love you & I know I was difficult growing up but I always loved you even when it might’ve felt like I didn’t. And that I forgive you.

That I greatly appreciate your genuine friendship and you will always hold a special place in my heart. and that’s the truth.

That I love you

How much I love you

How genuine and good-hearted you’ve always been, no matter what life has thrown at you. Your situation never changed your heart, in Janee’s words, you’ve stayed golden.

One thing? That I love you.

That I love you. Why are you talking like that?

That I am always here for you and that I have and have always had. nothing but love for you.

Sheesh, I don’t know if I interpreted this question correctly but: If this is our last conversation because you are on your death bed I would say: In life, it sometimes feels like the world was simply horrible. Nothing was good and it was full of hate and anger. Thank you for being someone that gave hope just by being her positive self. I know that because you were my hope when the world seemed horrible with simple gestures. May not have changed the world, but it saved me some days. If it was because we fell off or some other shit: You was always lit. Stay golden. Don’t change for nobody. I wish you the best.

I’m your child. No matter how much u deny me !! and I love you!

I appreciate all the kindness and support you’ve always shown me.

I would want you to know how much I love you and how much you’ve impacted my life in such a positive manner. How much I love that you’re not just my aunt but you’re like my best friend, and how I feel that you out of most people understand me on a different level.

You prob the funniest chick I know the pleasure of knowing. There’s your one thing.

Omg don’t say that but I would say you are a beautiful person inside and out and the world is a better place because you are in it. You have a beautiful family and friends that love you.

Id never want you to forget how much I GENUINELY appreciate our conversation. How you were there for me and gave me so much words of wisdom when I was going thru the worst time of my life. How you satisfied my craving of violets when I was pregnant with Mychael..and how much you make me laugh thru social media because you are so funny!

That you really will be missed and that I wish our friendship happened sooner so I’ll have more time with you!!! You are greatly appreciated.

I love you with all of my heart. You’re an inspiration to me. Words could not describe what you are to me. More than a cousin, more than a sister. Awilda Lee was the brightest thing in our lives when she came along. Thank. you for her. Thank you for having unconditional love for me that my Wela had. I have very fond memories at 533. You’re in almost all of them. From music out the window to your word processor and all your CD’s. My love of music comes from you.

That I love you like MY blood sister!

Us when we was living with grandma on 139th street, while you play Richard Marx “i’ll be Right Here Waiting for You.” Til this day when I hear that song I see you playing it. I love you.

That Jesus loves you so much He gave His life for you in order to offer you forgiveness for all the wrong you’ve done & a way for you to live with Him eternally in His presence & that its. never to late to give him a change because He’s always by you waiting.

That you are very loved. Good morning honey.

Jesus loves you!

If this were my last conversation with you I would want you to never forget that you are an amazing person from the first time I met you as Dr. D secretary til now, the only thing that has changed is your hair color and your age lol. I genuinely have love for you. Your free spirit and outspokenness is always welcome in my world. I know you said one thing but I had more than one thing lol. Oh and you’re a bomb writer. So when you publishing your 1st book?

That you were an amazing friend that honestly left an imprint in my life.

What an awesome job. you’ve done with Joaquin!!

Morning lol your smart mouth and trouble shooting skills.

I wouldn’t want you to forget how absolutely amazing I think you are. You were there for me when I needed you most. Helping me with my son and a shoulder to cry on. For that, I will be forever grateful.

Fine. I’d want you to never forget that not only do we have the same teeth, that we’re cousins on both sides of our family and that you’re first daughter looked exactly like me when she was younger. And that although we don’t speak much, I love you more than anything.

My gap

That I love and you’re my favorite person in life and I am grateful that God put us together and I hope we together in the next life too.

How hard we laughed together.

How I never judged anyone. Good morning. (I think they mean how u, meaning me, never judged anyone)

How much I love you.

How much I love and appreciated you.

How valuable I feel our friendship is and how much your wisdom and guidance has helped me in very difficult times. I appreciate and love you very much.

That I love you

That although growing up we were not close. I still have a great deal of love for you and I absolutely enjoy every single lil time we share together. and our sex talk at times (they meant we talk about it, not that we talk it to each other)

That I love you. That you are special strong funny.

That you are love

That I love you unconditionally because you are extremely unique.

That you have a warm and tender heart and a fierce outer shell. You are an incredibly strong and smart woman.

That you are an absolutely amazing human being & that you deserve all the happiness and love that this world has to offer. Never stop smiling.

That I love you and everything about you.

You will forever be my favorite bookworm. You’ve written your own book in my life. “That loyal friend” by OV. You speak my love language you always have and I am just as honored to have you in my corner. I love you. my dear friend. Sincerely, KR.

Everyday of my. younger life, all I wanted to do was find you guys! Once I did, I felt I was becoming complete! Meeting you guys when you y’all came to Cali was EVERYTHING I could have asked for and more! You guys are ones I work for EVERYDAY! Once I make this generational wealth, I got y’all! I promise you that!

I know it’ll sound cliche but I don’t thin you will ever truly know and understand how truly and deeply I care and love you. You helped pull me out of really dark place, you are an amazing soul. You are one of the rare ppl that i actually think of when i think of love and friendship and i thank you for being a part of my life.

That you’re my Binobo (a species of monkey - look it up)

When I would nag you on the 1st of the month.

That you should never forget how much you are loved. That your generosity of spirit and goodness far surpasses any flaws. That you are sooooo much more worthy, than you think you are. That I would never want you to settle for anyone who isn’t a really good person to you and the kids. Most importantly, I would pass on something that my Great Aunt once told me to always remember...If it doesn’t bring you peace, then it isn’t from God. In my experience, those words have always proven true. You know in your heart and it your gut - there is a very definitive, distinct sense of peace, when things are right. God only wants that sense of calm and joy, and He gave us the instinct to recognize the difference. (AMEN!)

I truly don’t like the tone of this question. But it would be your honesty. You’ve always been so open and honest about your story and it was a breath of fresh air for me.

Your humor and smile is always up lifting.

Awwwww. You are my counselor. You always have the best advice you are the sassiest glamma I know and the queen of essential oils lol. you add a special something to the world that only you can. A tell it like it is type of chick, who always keeps it 100%. It’s been such a pleasure having you in my world.

If it’s a thought about you, it wold be that I thought were smarter, funnier and at least a little better looking than the average bear. If it’s a memory, besides the short jokes and dancing, I would want you to remember, well it’s a toss up. Remember the time I lied about cooking food I brought in lunch, that it was really Lydia who made it, and she busted me.

I’d say thank you for being the parents that you are and thank you for allowing me to influence your little treasure and for keeping in contact with me.

Don’t forget to put me in your will. Lol just playing. That I love you of course.

How much I love you and thank you for always being neutral even if you’re his coworker lol.

I’d want you to know...While there is a great physical distance between us, I feel close to you. I love that you had a special relationship with my mom and hope that we can have our own. Big hugs to you.

1. That I love you. 2. that I would like you to raise my kids if anything happened to me or my wife.

That my heart was pure whether they were good or bad to me. To be honest I just want people to know that I’ve always been a good soul and did my best to be there for those who needed me, just a selfless individual.

You’re the best grandma Saniyah will have from marriage you love her like she’s really your daughters child and I love it. wouldn’t want it any other way.

Nuestra amistad (TRANSLATION: our friendship)

I love you

Never forget that I love you and God is good.

I don’t want it to be our last conversation but one thing that i don’t want you to forget is that you called me Thunderbuddy.

That I love you. That you’re an amazing person! Wait that’s two things right? LOL

Never forget who got you high.

1. Don’t forget to brush your teeth (stephen’s voice) 2>. Don’t forget to keep being unapologetically yourself.

How cute and funny I am lol

I wouldn’t want you to forget the laughs we’ve shared. Our birthday body suits.

Thank you for reading,

XOXO

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mrmichaelchadler · 5 years

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The RogerEbert.com Interviews of 2018

Below is a collection of some of our favorite conversations from this year. Each interview features a quote from the conversation, as followed by a link at the end to the full interview. Enjoy this survey into a year of top-notch work from actors and directors, and we'll see you in 2019.

THE STARS

Adriana Barraza (“Everything Else”) on life after her Oscar nomination for “Babel”:

“All the red carpets and these types of events, I’ve lived them and I will continue to live them as a fairy tale where you wear a beautiful outfit, like when you were little and wore your mother’s dresses to feel like a princess. I never forget that’s all just an instant, and everything else is about the work.” [link]

Steve Carell on his first time doing motion-capture acting, for Robert Zemeckis’ “Welcome to Marwen”:

“Like the advice that Bob [Zemeckis] gave me on day one, just think about it as very low-budget theater. And use your imagination. And I’ve done just the black outfit and everything, a couple chairs onstage. It’s ironic because, doing it back then you were at the mercy of your finances. And the irony now being, to do something like that is expensive to do and very complex. It’s fun. Just give yourself over to it, and enjoy it. It’s play time.” [link]

Tyne Daly on going between movies like “A Bread Factory” and “Spider-Man: Homecoming”:

“A film like this is my antidote. They pay you no money at all. They pay you lovely money to do Spider-Man. But this is about characters and situations that are deeply human and not at all cartoon-y.” [link]

Paulina García (“The Desert Bride”) on acting with minimal dialogue:

“I love characters of few words because they allow you to move in multiple directions, which when you have a character that experiences a sudden and significant change, like she does over the course of the story, the viewer can understand it, can follow it, and can believe it. Characters are much more malleable for me when they have little dialogue.” [link]

Lil Rel Howery on the cathartic comedy in “Uncle Drew”:

“Comedy has always been used as a weapon, but it’s also the most consistent thing that everybody needs because people need to laugh. You gotta laugh through crazy times, and yes, what we’re living through right now is crazy, but there have been other insane times throughout history, and laughter has always stood out in their midst.” [link]

Isabelle Huppert on “Claire’s Camera” and what moviemaking means to her:

“Moviemaking to me is sharing different experiences each time with a different director. [It’s not something] I want to repeat with someone else because all great directors have their own manner, their own way, whether it is Michael Haneke, Paul Verhoeven, or Hong Sang-soo. What’s exciting is, being different each time.” [link]

The great Quincy Jones on de-categorizing music and breaking genre:

"We’ve been stuck with—well, blessed, I should say—with 12 notes for the last 700 years. That’s heavy. That’s all we have is 12 notes. The first guys—Brahms, Bach, and Beethoven—took all the good stuff, you know? Through rhythm and harmony, we had to find a way to make those melodies ours. It feels like you belong to it, and that’s not so easy." [link]

KiKi Layne on the biggest challenge in acting in Barry Jenkins’ “If Beale Street Could Talk”:

"I think having to communicate so much without having too much dialogue. Tish doesn’t really speak that much, but she has so much to say and so much that has to be communicated. That was a really tough part of getting to the truth of this film." [link]

Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie (“Leave No Trace”) when asked whether she might write or direct some day:

“I’m at my happiest when I’m acting. At the beginning of this year, I was having a bunch of meetings with different agencies and they were talking about other opportunities I have with starting projects and producing and directing. These would obviously come further down the line if it all works out, you never know.” [link]

Amy Schumer (“I Feel Pretty”) on how confidence comes internally:

“For me, definitely in college was when I was really confused about my value. People make you feel like it’s all about how you look, and you realize slowly that it’s totally not true, and it’s all about how you feel. You determine your own self-worth. Some of [that] sounds like it would be on a fucking mug, but it’s true.” [link]

Amandla Stenberg on why she wanted to make “The Hate U Give”:

“I fell in love with the book because of Starr and one of the first things she does is speak so candidly about having these two versions of herself that she presents depending on the environment that she’s in. That was so special to me as someone who has experienced that. I think it’s part of the contemporary black experience that you understand that your success is often conditioned upon how you present yourself.” [link]

John Travolta (“Gotti”) on the magic behind great co-star chemistry:

“People say that chemistry is an innate thing, but it’s true that it can also be created. If I ask the right questions of you, and you ask the right questions of me, I can assure you, we’ll start looking good together. You know what I mean? Like buddies. You can do the same thing with acting." [link]

John David Washington "BlacKkKlansman" on loving acting from a young age:

I’ve loved acting since I can remember. I’ll never forget watching my dad perform in a Shakespeare in the Park production of Richard III in New York. I also watched him in “Glory” so many times that I knew every line from every character in the film, so it was clear that the love was there back then. [link]

Forest Whitaker on whether he could tell that collaborating director Ryan Coogler would be successful with “Black Panther”:

“I did have the feeling that it would match some of the other “Star Wars” and other films. I did feel that way; I thought something special was happening. I know Ryan and I know Ryan is a great filmmaker with a great mind, and I think given the proper tools which he was allowed to utilize, and a great cast and a great crew, that he would be able to do something exceptional and that people would want to see that.” [link]

Steven Yeun on how “Burning” is not a film that can simply be solved:

"We speak in brain. We speak in words. We speak in tones and boxes and ways to compartmentalize things. We try to figure things out. And so people will watch this and try to connect every piece and by the end you have a dissertation about what this thing is, but, really, he was trying to convey an emotion. So, if you got that, your body got it but your brain maybe doesn’t and so you have this dissonance and you’re trying to wrack your brain to catch up with your body. It’s this thing that you feel but can’t exactly process." [link]

THE FILMMAKERS

Desiree Akhavan (co-writer/director, “The Miseducation of Cameron Post”) on releasing her film in the middle of the Trump administration:

“What’s interesting about living in a time like this is that you also get to be a part of a rebellion against it. More women are running for office than ever. I think young people are getting politically motivated in a way that they weren’t before. I want to be part of that change.” [link]

Bo Burnham (writer/director, “Eighth Grade”) on how “Gucci” became a big catchphrase for his film:

“That was Elsie's! Elsie said that on set all the time. I didn't know what [it meant.] And then we [shot] those videos on the last few days, And I was like, "She's gotta have a sign-off or something," and then it was like, "Well, just give her 'Gucci.'" Elsie literally gets the last word of the film. I still don't know what it means.” [link]

Ruth Carter (costume designer, “Black Panther”) on creating the costumes for the Dora Milaje:

“I had a lot of stories behind the costumes because that’s how culture is. It always has a story and the costumes have to be a part of it. That’s why that female fighting force had to live and it couldn’t just be a fantasy.” [link]

Aneesh Chaganty (co-writer/director, "Searching") on looking at technology in a positive light:

"We’re looking at things that talk about how negative technology is, and how addicted we are to this, or how obsessed we are with that, or how much it alienates us and all that stuff. And we’re like, yeah, that is true, but it’s just one aspect of the stuff. It’s like zoom out and get this macro picture of what technology does as a whole; as much as it can alienate, it can connect us. As much as it can make us hate, it can also make us love." [link]

Sara Colangelo (adapting writer/director, “The Kindergarten Teacher”) on creating a challenging female character:

“It was an opportunity to create a female anti-hero, and somebody that isn’t perfectly likable. I think it’s high time that we see stories like that. For me, there’s something about this last election that [made] women’s likability an issue. I like the idea of having a character that isn’t this kind of lovely, ethically perfect person.” [link]

Ryan Coogler (co-writer/director, “Black Panther”) on his aspirations with the action genre:

“My favorite action movies have themes that are deep, that you can chew on, and that what we were trying to do, to make a movie that functions the way it was supposed to but also has some depth to it.” [link]

Debra Granik (co-writer/director, “Leave No Trace”) on making a film that encourages open-mindedness:

“One of my jobs as a storyteller, in the way that I self-describe my job, is to engender some kind of consideration or empathy; to ask some questions that at least make you motivated to want to understand another person. Something about what they've lived through, what they think about.” [link]

Nicole Holofcener (writer/director, “The Land of Steady Habits”) on the through-line of flawed characters in her filmography:

“I guess I like taking regular human frailties and building on that to kind of be more dramatic for a movie. It's certainly not anything I planned or I think about when I'm sitting down to write. It's just what I'm drawn to, I guess. You'd have to ask my therapist.” [link]

Barry Jenkins (writer/director, “If Beale Street Could Talk”) on celebrating art that moves him:

“I just know how open and wonderfully connected the world can be. And so if I see something that I respond to, I want to share it with the folks. And I want to encourage the people who see making beautiful things to make more beautiful things.” [link]

Tamara Jenkins (writer/director, “Private Life”) on connecting with her characters:

“My goal as a writer, which I guess is every writer and actor’s goal, is putting myself in each person’s shoes and believing their truth. And I just feel like I’m all three of those women easily. They're all different. From each one of their perspectives, I can see why they feel the way they do about what's happening.” [link]

Bing Liu (cinematographer/director, “Minding the Gap”) on the healing power of cinema:

“Healing begins when you are able to open up about things that are painful. I believe in the power of cinema to help you survive. Films like “Kids” and “Gummo,” as well as songs like “This Year” by The Mountain Goats, along with various books, are what got me through my childhood. It’s all about feeling like you are not alone, and that’s the hope these stories provide.” [link]

Lynne Ramsay (writer/director, “You Were Never Really Here”) on the presence of sound in her movies:

“I really think about sound and music when I'm early on in the process because of what they do to your subconscious. It's not just put on at the end, for me. Even when we do a cut, we do sound work after a cut [to] inform the next cut. I'd get the music from Jonny Greenwood and I would re-cut to the music. So, it was very organic. It wasn't a very conventional method.” [link]

Boots Riley (writer/director, “Sorry to Bother You”) on collaborating with his actors for the unique tone of his film:

“I think all of these actors, what made it was that none of them were in a comedy. While we were filming this, none of them were in a comedy. This was all real life, and if it ended up being hilarious then it was hilarious. Sometimes the characters would be trying to make jokes with each other and sometimes, purposely, those jokes weren't funny because that’s how it is in real life.” [link]

RaMell Ross (director, “Hale County This Morning, This Evening”) on editing his documentary down from 1,300 hours of footage:

“I was editing the entire time. When you quote-unquote shoot someone, I hate that term ... when you film someone, you're constantly searching for meaning or representational moments, right? These moments are in dialogue with moments you've seen before in films, specifically with people of color; certain types of humanizing touches or gazes. You're always confirming your own relationship to meaning.” [link]

The legendary Tom Savini on his approach to directing:

“Directors are visually inspired, you have a shot list, and I do the same thing. The movie’s over when I create it on paper, but now I have to go out and shoot those shots. If you have a great crew and everyone is on your side, you can create those pieces exactly the way you created them on paper. That’s the fun of it.” [link]

Paul Schrader (writer/director, “First Reformed”) on the spiritual quality of his film:

“Taking things away from the viewer is the same as meditation. Good things happen to people who wait and making people wait until it happens to them is the delicate dance of a spiritual style. You have to use boredom like a scalpel to contour an emotional reaction without it becoming plain old boredom.” [link]

from All Content http://bit.ly/2EX92e9

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battystumutchildren-blog · 7 years

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RYAN: -back at it again at the silvah dollah. it's kinda nice to have someplace new to stalk around the later hours of the day. she knows it's not exactly advisable for various reasons to transportalize out onto the satelite isolated far from her home. but... whatever. it's comfortable here and finding comfort elsewhere, somewhere more familiar, is a difficult task for her.-

RYAN: -she's hanging out at the counter again, poking at the remaining contents of a strawberry milkshake and being far less chatty than she was yesterday.-

SILVAH: -Given that there's not really much ON this station other than Skaianet research facilities, private research facilities and basically....the one resturaunt at least there's not much trouble Ryan can get up to up here. Silvah is just finishing cleaning and restoring his stocks from last night. He stayed up far too late and got a little drunk himself, but he's in good spirits. He's fairly sure the reopening was rousing success and that he's gonna make back the money he spent on the deck. Big man is boppin with the radio as he works until he finally makes his way back behind the counter and sees Ryan there. His fins flick.-

SILVAH: Blondie!

SILVAH: I thought I made a regular outta you.

RYAN: -perks up, immediately putting on a smile when she hears his voice, but it's definitely half hearted.-

RYAN: naturally??? youve got some great vibes going on here. :blush:

SILVAH: I built it that way babycakes, but that don't mean it ain't nice to hear.

SILVAH: -starts restocking the baked goods displays as they chitchat.-

SILVAH: You had some pretty good vibes yourself last night. -Not so much today though, huh? He's peepin on her.-

RYAN: again. naturally! as a new regular youll soon discover im always the life of the party. :wink: -leans on the counter, chin in her hand.- SILVAH: That's quite a claim. Maybe I should think about buyin a leaderboard. Huh huh.

SILVAH: Sure are cute though. Feel like I should be payin you to sit there and look pretty.

RYAN: well im not about to turn down that offer. :hugging:

RYAN: ive got a pretty lengthy resume as a professional cutie. you wouldnt regret the decision.

SILVAH: Now, now. I'm not totally sold. You strike me as a troublemaker too.

SILVAH: Acutally now that I'm thinkin about it, the round robin never made it to ya.

SILVAH: What's your story?

RYAN: :scream:

RYAN: its not polite to ask a lady such questions...

RYAN: which is definitely NOT something a troublemaker would say. :thinking: SILVAH: Keepin it close to the vest I see. That's fine. I'll get it out of ya eventually.

SILVAH: Food is great at makin people talk. RYAN: -chinhands intensifies.- yeah? what do you find is the best thing to feed a person to get them to share their life story? SILVAH: Somethin' caffeinated.

SILVAH: I'll tell you what- I'm crossin strawberry milkshakes off the list as of today.

RYAN: -giggles. geez... it feels good to laugh.-

RYAN: okay fine. youve fed me enough lines to change my tune. :stuck_out_tongue:

RYAN: youre right about me... i am a troublemaker. but im trying to cut back these days. SILVAH: -Seems satisfied at getting her to laugh. And to crack.-

SILVAH: Respect, little lady. It's not easy.

SILVAH: I'm also one of those.

RYAN: yeah? what are your vices?

RYAN: mine incluuuuude... -checks them off on her fingers as she says them in an attempt to keep it light.- running away. all manner of narcotics. and beautiful sad men and women that only break your heart.

RYAN: so you know. the standard really.

SILVAH: You're right. That is a hell of a resume. -Scratches under his fat chin with Robut hand.-

SILVAH: Lesee....I'm right there with ya on runnin away. Dissapointin my family. Sexual deviancy. An you may have noticed that I like to eat a lil bit.

SILVAH: We already got the makins of a pretty good country song. Too bad that's not my favorite genre.

RYAN: hehehe. id love to inspire any kinda song really.

RYAN: but other than that it seems weve got a lot in common. -sips milkshake.-

RYAN: ive been... disappointing a lot of people for a long time. but i feel like i really dropped the fucking ball again recently. :weary:

SILVAH: -Now he's got both fins angled towards her.- You wanna get into it?

SILVAH: Don't gotta. But if you feel like you need to I have time.

SILVAH: That's how I got so fat. I'm full of secrets.

RYAN: -snickers and shrugs, swirling the straw around in the glass thoughtfully.- well... guess theres no harm in it.

RYAN: since youre being so nice and charming. :wink:

RYAN: things have just been... i dunno.

RYAN: first i fell off the wagon.

RYAN: definitely disappointed my family... and probably my boyfriend. or like. whatever our deal even is. -sighs.-

RYAN: then my ex comes along and starts pulling some burn book bullshit... spilling all my secrets. pissing off my friends. making aforementioned romantic relationship all the more complicated. i think.

RYAN: ugh. -just sighs. it's hard to really dig deep when it's all so frustrating, so she just kinda slumps a little.-

SILVAH: Mm. Did ya say some things you regret?

RYAN: -nods slowly, pouting a little.-

RYAN: yeah. so much stupid shit.

RYAN: im trying to fix things but... i dont know--

RYAN: i dont know what im doing half the time.

SILVAH: -Pauses for a minuite, and while he's processing all the vibes he's picking up from her he's making himself look busy, which is something he's pretty practiced at by now.-

SILVAH: It's not the easy route. It's easier to keep cuttin out. Start over somewhere where they don't know ya. But that would be a waste in the long run.

SILVAH: If you keep tryin eventually they'll see the effort and appreciate it. Even if you're graspin at straws and you say all the wrong shit. RYAN: -peers up at him, finding that answer... strangely comforting. she gets the sense he understands. maybe because of his own experiences, or just because he's used to dealing with sad sacks like her. it was kind of a cliche. in any case, she's quiet for a moment as she thinks it all over too. her voice is a little hushed when she does speak, a bit embarrassed by admitting the things she is... but knowing full well she needs to say it.-

RYAN: i feel like my efforts are pushing him away.

RYAN: alienating him cuz he feels guilty too. hes always stuck in his own head.

RYAN: i think he feels like hes not good enough. but i dont really get it. im the one who kept running away.

RYAN: he never did anything wrong. at least i dont think he did. it just-- a shitty time. and i dunno if its ever gonna pass so long as im around to remind him that-- fuck.

RYAN: -puts her head in her hand with a sigh.- sorry im not making sense anymore.

SILVAH: -Frowns as he takes this in, and at the same time takes in extra information. All her good intentions, the desperation that go along with them.- Y'know most of the time tryin to anticipate what someone's gonna do or why they feel the way they feel is real misleadin. Unless you have a real blunt discussion about it, you could never know. You might've fucked up, but it don't mean every bad thing that person's feelin is your fault.

SILVAH: The stuff you can pin down as yours is what you should concentrate on, is what I'm sayin.

RYAN: -peers up from behind her hand, eyes glossy with sadness but... there's some hope too. she laughs a little, trying not to seem too broken up about the stuff going on in her head.-

RYAN: i hear you.

RYAN: i just...

RYAN: wanna know im making someone happy for once.

RYAN: you know?

SILVAH: -She seems so vulnerable, it almost hurts to look. They're barely acquaintances at this point, but he doesn't care, he's gonna lightly reach out and touch her hand with his non robotic one.- You got yourself a super acheivable goal there, blondie. I think you're gonna be ok.

SILVAH: -Backs it up with a warm smile too. Believe him. He belives in you!-

RYAN: -well... it's hard not to smile when it feels like someone believes in you. and for some reason, in this moment she kind of believes it too. she doesn't mind the touch. she welcomes it in fact, feeling a little bit touch starved lately.-

RYAN: ill definitely be okay if i keep coming back for these milkshakes...

SILVAH: Hah! You think I'm gonna let you keep orderin just milkshakes.

SILVAH: -Pats her hand, gives it a gentle little squeeze and then releases her.-

RYAN: -giggles again. what a big softie...- i thought the customer was always right???? rude ass...

SILVAH: -Laughs with her. Huh huh huh.- I'mma personally fight whoever came up with that horse shite. The customer ain't right even half the time, let alone always.

SILVAH: This is the only place in the goddamn world where I control everythin. It ain't a fuckin democracy.

RYAN: -snorts and then full on cackles.- geez!!! then i guess ill have to refer to your expert opinion every day im here. :wink:

SILVAH: Heh heh. S'long as its real food some of the time I'll be a happy clam.

#ryan strider #silvah balila #the silvah dollah #ip log #ic

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