#sometimes i wonder like 'do i really wanna focus in literature' and then i get like this like. oh yeah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teasty · 3 years

Text

hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

1K notes · View notes

snowywrites · 3 years

Text

Doki Doki Literature Club Girls x Reader

summary: you spend the day at the amusement park with the rest of the Literature Club! (it's recommended to read these together in order because they are connected, but if you prefer then you can read just whichever one you want to. Reader is intended to be female.)

full word count: 7.7k

Sayori

It was a gorgeous Saturday morning in town. The sun was shining high overhead in the pale blue sky, but the fluffy white clouds drifting by here and there were enough to ensure that it wasn't too hot. There also happened to be a nice, soothing breeze out, you note to yourself as you gaze out your open window to the neighborhood. A perfectly lovely day.

Well. That was enough of that, you muse to yourself as you slide your window closed again and pull the curtains in front of it to avoid any of the cheery sunshine washing into your room- it created an awful glare off of your computer screen which made it hard to watch your anime.

Content with your decision to stay inside today and catch up on your favorite shows, you walk over to sit down at your desk and turn on your computer. That's as far as you get before the doorbell rings, however.

You ignore it for now, assuming someone else in the house will go answer it. Then you suppress a groan of frustration when you recall that you're home alone for the better part of the day, a big reason why you had set the date aside to stay indoors and enjoy some peace, quiet, relaxation, and anime.

The doorbell rings again and again, much more insistent now; it almost could be playing a song of some kind. "I'm coming!" You call as if the visitor can hear you, grudgingly hopping up and hurrying downstairs. The doorbell just keeps ringing, and you don't even check the peephole to see who it is before you open up because the sound is really starting to grate on your nerves and you just need it to stop as soon as possible.

Your neighbor and somewhat-best-friend Sayori is standing there, and she looks a little shocked to see you, despite this being your house. She slowly presses the doorbell one last time, and you resist the urge to sigh heavily.

"Hi, Sayori. What's up?" You question. It's been a minute since you two have visited outside of the Literature Club, so you're making an effort not to act as annoyed as you feel for being so rudely disrupted. She could have at least texted a message saying she was going to be dropping by- then again, this was Sayori. Odds were, she had been walking by heading to the store or something and spotted your home, causing her to make the impulsive decision to bug you.

Her eyes brighten and a wide smile replaces her startled expression. "Hey, Y/N! It's Saturday!"

You stare at her for a moment. "Uhm...yeah, it is." You aren't entirely sure what she's expecting from you- maybe an invitation to come inside? Sayori's sort of a pain to watch movies or shows with, though. She's such a chatterbox and can't really focus on one thing for long at all, so whenever she does tune back in, she's got a million dumb questions that she'd know the answer to if only she'd bothered to pay attention. Nonetheless, you offer, "Did you wanna hang out? I was about to watch some anime, and you can join me, if you'd like."

Your words don't seem to come as any shock to Sayori, and she shakes her head firmly. "Y/N! I figured you were shutting yourself up in here. It's seriously a nice day, let's get out and have some fun!"

So much for compromising! And you'd even been trying to be nice, sheesh. "But I-" You frowned, trying to come up with an excuse for why you couldn't go out today, eventually settling on the truth since it was easiest. "I was just looking forward to some downtime, maybe next time though, okay?"

Instantly Sayori is pouting, acting like the exact same little kid you first met years ago rather than the almost-adult she was. "We've had this talk before, I don't want you becoming a total NEET! You can watch your shows tomorrow, but we really should enjoy this day, I bet it's gonna rain tomorrow! I mean, the rain is fun too, but-"

You're visibly defeated. "Okay, okay, lemme just grab some money. What'd you have in mind?"

Instead of calming down now that she's gotten her way, Sayori gives an excited little bounce, clapping her hands together. "Thanks, Y/N!" She grins at you, radiating warmth and energy. "I was thinking the amusement park!"

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

The amusement park was in town for another few days, and you had yet to go to it, but you doubted you were missing out on much. It was crowded with people, as expected, and you recognized a lot of other people from your school even in their casual clothes. It made you absently wonder if any of the other girls in the Literature Club were here today...

"Hey, did you hear me?"

Sayori's voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over at her. "Oh, sorry. What'd you say?"

She doesn't seem upset in the slightest. "I said, we have to go on the roller coaster!" She points excitedly across the park where you can see the top of the coaster. A lot of screams and a long line are in that direction, and you do your best not to look nervous.

"R-Roller coaster? Isn't there anything else you want to do first?" Trust Sayori to immediately pick the biggest attraction in the place. You're a tad surprised she isn't already hungry, to be honest, though you two did just enter the park.

"Coaster first!" Insists your best friend, taking your hand and beginning to drag you off towards the ride in spite of your clear hesitance. "And then probably food! I'd hate to get sick, you know?"

You can't help but smile. It was likely the most responsible thing you'd ever heard Sayori say, and one which you were grateful for considering you two would obviously be sitting next to each other. It helps you to relax a little bit too, but as you join the line with her, you can feel your anxiety starting to mount yet again the closer and closer you get.

Sayori is chattering away, but you're trying to block her out because she's babbling about all sorts of things. You wonder suddenly if she's trying to distract you...but quickly brush that assumption away. It would be nice, but Sayori just tended to talk a lot all the time, this wasn't new.

After what feels like much too short of a time, it's your turn to ride the roller coaster. Fear grips you, much as you don't want to admit it. You shoot a panicked glance at Sayori, who was humming cheerfully to herself. She meets your gaze, and her hum falters, tapering off. She gives you a reassuring and oddly quiet smile, taking your hand. It's different than before, when she'd been pulling you through the park. This time, her grip is steady but not demanding, allowing you to pull away if you wanted to do so. It's also possibly the only time you can recall ever seeing your best friend look so...shy.

It's more comforting than anything she could've said, and you give her hand a squeeze to thank her. The two of you enter the roller coaster in seats next to each other, and a worker comes along to help the two of you strap in properly. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, and you're assuming it's just because of the roller coaster adrenaline, nothing more.

The ride starts and you close your eyes shut tight, keeping a death grip on Sayori now; you can hear her breathless and excited laughter even through the sounds of the other riders screaming and whooping. Many twists and turns, sometimes slow and sometimes fast yet always nerve-wracking, and a particularly terrifying drop-off later, and the ride is over.

You blink open your eyes, stunned to realize you're still in once piece, and leap out of the coaster as soon as possible, tearing your hand out of Sayori's. She doesn't seem all that worried about it, fortunately. She climbs out onto the solid and safe ground next to you, and you bite back a giggle. Her hair is so crazy and windswept and sticking out in all directions from the ride, but then you figure yours probably is too, and self-consciously try to pat it down.

Unlike you, Sayori doesn't appear concerned with her appearance, her cheeks flushed with delight and invigoration, not embarrassment. "That was so much fun!" She cheers, spinning around you as if she still had too much energy to contain. Then she paused, practically glowing as she looked at you and you only had a heartbeat to notice that she was very close in your personal space. "Thank you so much for coming with me, Y/N."

It was such a genuine and vulnerable statement that you were briefly at a loss for words, trying to read the uncharacteristically intense emotions shining in your friend's blue eyes. "I- it was, sure, it was a lot of fun, Sayori..." You trail off awkwardly, stepping back a pace to escape the close proximity.

Sayori opens her mouth to say something else, but a gasp comes out first as her attention fixes on something behind you. "Can you buy me some pizza? Pleeeeaaaaseeeee? Pretty please?! I'm really hungry now!"

The moment is over with that, and you wince at her childish request. "Pizza sounds good," you relent, causing Sayori to squeal with excitement and rush off to the food stand. You're giving in a lot today, and you aren't sure why, honestly. It wasn't like this was more fun than staying home and watching your favorite shows, right? Although, you did enjoy Sayori's company. There was a reason she was your kind-of-best-friend after all.

Oh, well. You can think about it later. For now you might as well try to have a nice time while you were still here. You follow after your puppy-like friend, spotting her at one of the tables just outside of the food stand talking with someone sitting there. With a start, you recognize the violet long hair of your fellow clubmate, Yuri.

Approaching, you start to greet them, but Sayori interrupts you before you can. "Yeah, Y/N/'s here too!" She pointed at you brightly, and Yuri tenses up, looking up at you like a deer in the headlights, which confuses you. Yuri had seemed perfectly calm before now- sure, a little shy, but now she was the stuttering and nervous girl that you were most familiar with from the Literature Club.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Yuri

You smile, giving a tiny wave. "Hey there, Yuri." Of all the people you might have expected to see here at the amusement park, Yuri was perhaps at the bottom of the list. You would have assumed she would be like you on a Saturday, preferring to stay at home. Except she would be reading novels or writing most likely, not watching anime or reading manga.

You're partly right, because on the table in front of Yuri is an open book instead of anything to eat. How she was able to focus with all the conversation of groups of people swarming around, you had no idea.

"Y/N," whined Sayori after Yuri just gave you a slight nod of greeting, "My pizzaaaaa, please?"

You laugh, waving her away. "I'm going, I'm going, hush! Yuri, did you want anything?" You offered politely.

Your clubmate seems to shrink in on herself, allowing her long dark hair to fall so that it hid her face from your view a bit. "Ah-! Uhm, that's okay, thank you, though." Sometimes you weren't sure how she could write just long and beautifully-worded poems when she seemed to struggle so much with the simplest of phrases spoken outloud.

You accept this and go to buy yourself and Sayori a slice of pizza each, and end up buying Yuri a sweet tea too just because, well, you would feel weird and rude to eat in front of someone else if they didn't have anything. You make your way back over to the table where Sayori is talking to Yuri, her arms flailing around in wild gestures, and you get the suspicion that she's telling Yuri all about the roller coaster ride. Quick to intervene, you set the tray with the food and drinks down on the table, leaning towards Sayori threateningly. "What exactly are you talking about?" You inquire sharply, eyes narrowed.

Sheepishly, Sayori swipes one of the plates with pizza on it to take a bite and shrug, using the food as an excuse not to reply.

Huffing, you distribute the stuff you bought between the three of you, turning to Yuri to protect your reputation. "For the record, I was totally not scared," you promised her.

Yuri is slightly more comfortable now, you think, and there's a tiny glimmer of faint amusement and sympathy in her violet eyes. "I believe you," she murmurs back, so quietly that you almost were unable to catch that. She blinks at the drink that you placed in front of her, apparently having to take a second to process what it meant. And then, completely the opposite of Sayori, her head snapped towards you and her gaze was now wide. "Oh-! You- thank you, Y/N, but- you really, didn't have to, go through the trouble...!"

You tuck into your meal, taking your time in replying while Sayori scarfs down her own food, curiously glancing between you and Yuri as if studying the interaction. "It's no worries," you say after a short while. "I would've felt bad otherwise since me and Sayori have something." You turn your attention to the forgotten book in front of Yuri. "Sorry if we bothered you, by the way! We didn't mean to interrupt your reading or anything."

Sayori bobbed her head in an enthusiastic agreement since her mouth was full and she couldn't say anything.

Once again, you worried that you'd said the wrong thing because Yuri's reaction was much the same as the last time you'd said anything. "That's- that's okay, really! It wasn't, important, and I was..." She seems to give up, seeming helpless and frustrated with herself, only able to take a sip of her drink in defeat.

Sayori finished with her food, standing up abruptly. "Thanks, Y/N!" She chirps, apparently not effected by your and Yuri's awkwardness. "I'm gonna go check out some other stuff, so you should have fun with Yuri!"

Her words catch you off guard, and before you can react or suggest the three of you find something to do together, Sayori is already racing off somewhere, waving over her shoulder at the two of you. You watch as she slams into someone as she wasn't paying any attention to where she was going, and shake your head as she profusely apologizes to them. "Oh, Sayori," you sigh a little dramatically to Yuri. "What are we gonna do with her?"

The other girl bites her lip like she's trying to hold back a laugh. "It's nice that you look after her," she speaks up quietly.

"Ah- I mean, somebody has to, right?" You chuckle to yourself as you resume eating.

Yuri is fine with silence, which doesn't really surprise you. She opens her book back up and starts to read after a minute or two, and you're content too to just finish up your pizza and do some people-watching.

Eventually when you do finish, you throw away your trash and then rejoin Yuri, who's politely closing her book again and standing up as well. She's calmer now, as if reading and not having to engage in conversation for a little bit has recharged her, which you're happy for. "Uhm..." She begins timidly. "Would you like to walk around the park with me?"

You aren't used to Yuri initiating anything at all, and in the space of your bewilderment, she hurriedly continues, "It's okay if you'd rather not-! I only thought..it might be fun, but I understand if..." The last part is more of a mumble.

"Sure, Yuri, I'd love to!" You try to reassure her as smoothly and swiftly as you can in order to avoid hurting her feelings any further or even risking her fleeing. Yuri was such a sweet person, and you'd never want to say no to her and have to see her awfully sad expression, you reflect. "We can head...that way." You pick a random direction and start walking, Yuri following you meekly. She walks near you, but also just a step or two behind, and when you try to slow down so you guys can actually walk together, she stops altogether. Deciding you can't do anything about it for now, you continue the trek, absently looking around at the various stands, games, and rides as you pass them. "I wasn't expecting to run into you here, to be honest," you comment.

Yuri's silent for a beat, causing you to wonder if she was even going to say anything back to that. She finally does, thankfully. "Admittedly, this isn't the sort of place I might usually spend a weekend at." Her words are low and carefully-chosen as usual, like she's cursed to overthink even the barest minimum of small talk. "But my parents insisted I come here."

An amused smile quirks up your lips as you glance back at her. "So you brought a book instead of arguing with them?" You deduct. "Clever. I would've brought a manga or something, but Sayori was impatient to get here. She's always trying to drag me out my house and make me socialize. Take the Literature Club, for example."

Yuri gives you a tiny nod. "It's kind of them to care about us," she says. "I do sometimes wish they could understand me better, though."

"I get that," you agree. "Even if they're a pain sometimes, you love them anyway."

Yuri evidently agrees, but something causes her to stop walking. You pause too, going back to join her. Her attention is on an attraction nearby, a 'haunted house' sort of place. She doesn't look like she had any idea it was here, and you recognize interest and anticipation on her face, which makes you happy- you might be getting a little bit better at reading Yuri, the more time you spend with her.

She reluctantly focuses back on you, and you sense she's about to apologize and continue walking, so you speak before she gets the chance. "We can go check it out, if you want?"

Your clubmate lights up for a moment before wincing. "We don't have to, if you wouldn't like it," is her answer. It's honestly not annoying, mainly because Yuri makes indecisiveness, shyness, and doormat-ness look really, really cute.

"It might be fun," you laugh, guiding her across to the entrance. It looks pretty stereotypical, and you recall going to one of these kinds of places with Sayori one year for Halloween when you were much, much younger, probably like 11 or 12. The line isn't long at all, which is also a bonus. When you two are given the all clear to go inside, you and Yuri enter the narrow, dark hallway.

You're suddenly quite aware of how close Yuri is as you walk- instead of trailing behind, she's right at your side now, pressed up against you since there's not a ton of room in this corridor. She doesn't seem to notice, too enraptured (ha, maybe you were hanging around her too much) by the thrill of what scares might await them to pay you much mind.

Talk about making a girl feel self-conscious. Despite being around the same age, Yuri was so much more...mature than you, to put it politely. It was nice in a way too- you felt safer than if you were by yourself, at the very least, since she was taller than you and so close to you.

The haunted house wasn't too scary, like you had assumed. The actors were great though, and at some point one of them lunged out towards you from a secret passageway and it startled you so badly that you ended up leaping backwards and pressing back against Yuri, your eyes wide and your heart hammering so loudly you bet the violet-haired girl had no trouble hearing it.

You stared tensely at the 'monster', needing a moment to collect yourself and remember how to breathe again. It's Yuri that manages to bring you out of it, which is so sweet of her since you all but crashed into the poor girl. She wraps her arms around you in a very gently hug, resting her chin on your hair. Where did all that confidence come from, anyway? It may have been the really dim lighting, you think to yourself- you can hardly see each other, so that could've given Yuri some boldness. Either that or she was finally getting comfortable around you!

The actor slowly recedes away, and you stay perfectly still for a minute longer than necessary. Finally, you clear your throat, awkwardly disentangling yourself from Yuri, who hops away from you quickly too, and even in the near-pitch black you could swear that she's blushing like crazy as she tries to stammer out an apology.

You shake your head, smiling nervously even though she can't see it. "T-Thanks, Yuri."

Okay, so maybe you had lied a little bit about it being 'not too scary.'

That was the last of the real scares, and you gladly spring out into the sunlight of day again, stretching your arms over your head. You look back to see Yuri hovering back in the darkness of the haunted house- was she okay? You ask your thought outloud.

"Y-Yes! I'm sorry. I'm coming..." She grudgingly steps out to join you in the real world, and you realize with a sense of deep sadness that she's not meeting your gaze anymore again. Great, just when you finally thought you were starting to make some progress on being friends with her. "That was a nice time, thank you very much, Y/N-" Those next words are blurted out and spoken so fast you're shocked she doesn't stutter over them. And the next thing you know, she's gone, disappearing into the crowds and leaving you alone and more than a little disappointed and confused.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Natsuki

You sigh to yourself as you wander around the amusement park, scanning around to see if anything piques your interest. You were also sort of hoping to see Sayori, considering she was responsible for dragging you here and now she'd ditched you, but you also wouldn't mind bumping into Yuri again to hang out. Something told you that Yuri had been pushed to her social interaction limit for the day though.

A loud, squeaky, angry, and oh-so-familiar voice causes you to head towards it and check out what's happening. As you thought, it's Natsuki, another of the girls in the Literature Club. She's standing at one of the game stands with her hands on her hips and leaning towards the guy running the game in an aggressive stance. You note that the game is one of those ones where you have to throw some darts at a balloon, and if you can pop one, you can get a prize. The prizes line the wall behind the man (more like disinterested teenage boy, but close enough), and they all are varying degrees of fluffy and cute stuffed animals. You never were a fan of amusement park games because they were more often than not rigged more than a claw machine.

You get a little closer so that you can hear better.

"...completely unfair! I hit that balloon, you and I both saw it!" Hisses Natsuki at the worker. It was too easy to compare her to a puffed up and angry kitten, you muse to yourself.

The boy shrugs. "Look, kid, if the balloon doesn't pop, then you don't get a prize. That's like, our only rule."

Fury flashes across Natsuki's face, and you resist the urge to laugh. Natsuki did look pretty young, but she was around your age, and probably this guy's age too. "Don't call me 'kid'!" She exclaims. "I won, fair and square! Just because it didn't-"

The argument was starting to draw in other bystanders, not just yourself. And you realize with a flicker of fear that you can see the worker reach for his walkie-talkie like he's going to call in security. Security on Natsuki, for god's sake. Ridiculous.

To prevent her from possibly being forcibly removed from the amusement park, you hurry over and place some money down on the game stand stable. "Can I try?" You interject. Even though you're not looking at Natsuki, you can feel her flinch away from you and sense her hostility and surprise at this new turn of events.

The boy running the stand regards you boredly, but you're relieved to see him put the walkie-talkie down. "Sure. That'll get you three tries."

Beside you, Natsuki scoffs. "As if you can hit one of them!" She grumbles. "It's not as easy as it looks." By how frustrated she was acting, you could guess that she'd been here the better part of the day attempting to win. But which prize did she have her eye on?

"Maybe not, but I can give it a shot," you say lightly. "Which one are we after?" You question her.

Natsuki glares at you fiercely, and you can see she's got a blush that matches her hair. Grudgingly, she points towards one of the bigger stuffed animals, a white bunny rabbit near the very top. "It's- it's not for me!" She informs you at once. "I wanted it for- for a friend. That's all."

'She's a terrible liar.' Nodding, you turn your attention to the man and tell him, "If I win, we get the bunny. Deal?"

"Means you've gotta shoot the purple balloon."

Of course, the purple balloon is at the very top of the wall of balloons. Fantastic. You don't have too much hope that you'll actually be able to pop it, especially when you see the kinds of darts he hands over to you. First of all, the tips are so blunt and dull that you can 100% believe that Natsuki did hit the balloon with one, but it wasn't nearly sharp enough to even hurt someone if they tested it against their skin. Second, the weight of it felt wildly uneven in the palm of your hand. The shape of the dart just wasn't sufficient enough to propel it through the air like it should have. This was precisely why you never would waste your time or money on this...but you couldn't exactly back out now, not with Natsuki's intense magenta eyes watching you like a hawk. If you didn't at least make an attempt, you'd never hear the end of it at the Literature Club, and it might cause you to lose what little respect Natsuki had for you. Which never seemed like a lot to begin with.

"C'mon, we've got a line now," sighed the worker, unimpressed with your examination of his faulty darts. It wasn't his fault they sucked, anyway. You were so focused on aiming your first dart that you didn't see the angry glance Natsuki cast at the boy.

You pulled back your arm and flung the dart at the balloon. It was pretty pitiful, you couldn't deny that. It sailed off away from the wall of balloons and landed outside of the game stand on the grass somehow.

Natsuki huffed a sigh, her arms crossed. But when the worker snorted and tried to hide his laughter, the little pinkette sprang closer like an affronted pomeranian. "It's not her fault these darts are total crap!" She snapped. You would never have expected in a million years for Natsuki of all people to jump to your defense and try to protect your honor.

She catches your wide-eyed gaze and then looks off to the side irritably. "Keep- keep your eyes to yourself," she growled under her breath.

You fortunately have the sense not to tease her about it. You have a better feel for how the darts travel through the air now, so you pick up the second one and aim again before sending it sailing. This time, it manages to hit the purple balloon target, but it simply bounces off the surface of it and clatters to the ground.

Natsuki opens her mouth to potentially blow up on the man, but you press a finger to your lips in a silent plea to ask her to be quiet. Now you have to take the brunt of her righteous fury in only a single expression, but she doesn't say a word.

One chance left.

You pick up your final dart, judging the distance from here to the balloon and considering the best angle to throw it. After a bit, you finally shoot your shot- and the resounding pop! catches you and all the bystanders by surprise.

What remains of the purple balloon flutters uselessly in the breeze. The worker still cares nothing for this, just goes to pluck the stuffed rabbit toy down from the prize wall.

You turn to beam at Natsuki, pleased with yourself. You've managed to surprise her, you can tell, and when you're handed your prize, you offer it out to Natsuki with a bright smile. "That was fun, huh?"

She stares at the bunny rabbit, still trying to process what had just happened. Slowly, as if she believed it's soft, fake fur was poisoned or something, she reached out to take it into her arms. Her face is growing more and more red by the second, and she buries it into the plush doll as if to hide herself or maybe try to regain her composure. Probably both.

The worker clears his throat loudly, indicating the two of you are still holding up the line, so you and Natsuki swiftly step to the side and start walking through the park. You're a little concerned she might trip over something or into someone since she's still hiding her face in the rabbit's fur and can't see where she's going, so you stick close to her in case she needs a hand to steady her. So much for 'letting her fall next time.'

When you can't handle the awkward silence any longer, you say, "Er, Natsuki...? Are you-"

She straightens up, cuddling the rabbit close to her. "It's fine!" She squeaks. "I- I mean- that was-" She's truly struggling here, and it makes you feel guilty. "You did okay," she manages to at last get out.

A twinge of unexpected hurt flashes through you. You'd privately been hoping that she would be impressed and grateful, but you guessed you shouldn't have ever thought those words might even be in Natsuki's vocabulary. "Oh..." You didn't mean for it to come out so forlorn, but you couldn't help it. "Yeah, thanks." You turn away from her, fighting back your disappointment. "I guess I'll see you at the club after school Monday, then-"

As you take the first step away, however, you feel Natsuki's hand dart out to grab your arm and force you to stop. "Wait!" Her voice is high-pitched with some frantic emotion you can't place a name to. "W-Wait, Y/N- I only meant that-" She huffs, stomping her shoe on the ground in obvious exasperation that you could only hope wasn't directed at you. "I-" God, it's a train wreck not just for her, but for you to witness too. "Thank you-!" The words have to be practically dragged out of her, so she tries again. "...Thank you."

You wait in confusion to see if there's anything else she's going to add, but when she doesn't, you tentatively reply, "Uhm...no problem-? I mean, you're always bringing cupcakes and stuff to share with everyone, so I just was hoping maybe I could try to return the favor and get you something." You pause. "I mean, get you something that you wanted to give to your friend." Best to try and fix any potential mistakes that could get you yelled at again.

Those words had some kind of effect on Natsuki, that was for sure, but you had no idea if it was a good kind or a bad kind. She's gazing up at you silently, seemingly frozen in place. Something snaps her back to reality, for she at last releases your arm, hugging the rabbit again like it could support her. "I guess...you can be really sweet sometimes instead of just a pain in the ass," she mumbles. You're about ready to be offended until Natsuki slowly holds out her bunny towards you, refusing to look at you. You're extremely befuddled and not sure what to expect when the soft nose of the plush bunny rabbit is touched gently against your cheek in a gesture that's very much like a feather-light kiss. "S-Stupid."

You feel like you're too paralyzed to respond in any kind of way, and besides, Natsuki's already brushing past you and stalking off, not giving you a moment to react anyway. You stand there for what feels like a long time after she's gone until it feels like you might have just imagined what happened there at the end.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Monika

Your day at the amusement park was drawing to a close, and suffice to say, you were thoroughly exhausted by everything that had happened. You stop to rest at one of the benches that was sort of away from the throngs of people who were starting to leave the park to head home, so at least the crowds were thinning out. Sayori had insisted you guys come here today, since it was Saturday and all, but she'd ditched you what feels like forever ago, and then you'd run into all the other members of the Literature Club- well, almost all of the other members, that is.

You let your mind drift as you sat there, leaning back into the wooden white bench and staring up at the sky. The yellow light was starting to fade as the sun slowly began it's descent into the horizon line. The amusement park would be closing in maybe an hour or so, you think to yourself as you let your eyes drift shut. You should really go and try to find Sayori so you can walk home together with her...not that the streets weren't safe in the evening, but it was entirely possible your friend could get lost or distracted and end up wandering around town for hours when she should be home. But you were honestly worn out from hours of walking around and socializing...

Right when you've finally gotten comfortable enough that you think you're dozing off out of reality and into a well-deserved, dreamy nap, there's a voice from right beside you that scares you enough to make you jump and snap your eyes wide open.

"Hi, Y/N! Fancy meeting you here."

Aaand, now you'd come across all of your Literature Club members- sitting on the bench beside you with her hands folded neatly in her lap was Monika. You've never seen her in anything besides her school uniform before, but the casual white and mint-green floral spring dress matched both her signature white bow and her eyes nicely at the same time. You hadn't even heard her walk up or sit down, which was kind of odd, but not odd enough for you to really think anything of it.

"Ah- hi, Monika," you greet with a small smile, trying to relax and not look as out-of-sorts as you felt. You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly in what was almost a sigh. "Yeah, I wasn't planning on leaving the house today, to be honest," you say in faint amusement. "Sayori sort of dragged me here to hang out."

Monika tilts her head to one side with a pleasant smile in return to you. "I see." She glances around as if she's expecting to see Sayori racing towards the two of you and calling loudly, her arms up in the air to get both of your attentions. But you and Monika are mostly alone. "So you spent the day with her?" The question is casual, and you don't think much of it at all.

"Uhm, not the whole day. We spent a little time together before she ran off somewhere...I bumped into Yuri and Natsuki today too, actually. Oh, but I was sort of thinking I should go try and find Sayori so we could head home."

Monika's emerald green gaze flicks away from you as a breeze ruffles her hair and yours. She doesn't respond for a moment, but you see that her friendly smile has faded somewhat now- and she looks...it's hard to say. Monika looks- gosh, you wish you were half as smart and descriptive as Yuri sometimes- wistful? Was that the word? Contemplatively wistful? She speaks again and it rouses you out of your daze. "So you were just about to leave." The Literature Club president flashes you an apologetic glance before rising gracefully up from the bench. "I didn't mean to bother; I can see you're tired, Y/N. I should get going too."

She doesn't seem sad, not necessarily, but you get the sense that something is a little off. Maybe it's the time of day affecting her mood? It's that weird hour where the day is technically over, but not quite yet- and there's a regretful longing permeating the atmosphere, the only way you could describe it might be like the feeling a high school kid gets on a Sunday evening, in spite of the fact today was Saturday, meaning the weekend wasn't over yet.

You move to stand up as well, a little clumsier than Monika. "But- there's still a little while before the park closes. If there was anything you still wanted to do here, I could come with you, if that sounds alright? Unless you were really going to leave, that is. I'm not so tired that I'd miss hanging out with you- outside of school, I mean."

There's the slightest hint of hesitation, and you're unable to decipher Monika's feelings right now. If you were to guess, you might say she's conflicted. Just as you're positive she's going to politely decline, her warm smile returns. "That would be nice," she says, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"Okay, cool!" You brighten up and begin to walk through the amusement park with Monika.

She has her hands clasped behind her back and she's looking around to admire the scenery around you both while you do your best not to stare like a weirdo at her. "So, uhm...were you wanting to go on a ride or...?" You ask after a little while of silence.

Monika hums, but you don't think she's actually considering your suggestion. "I wouldn't ask you to wear yourself out anymore. When I first saw you on the bench, I thought you might have been taking a nap." While her tone of voice is casual, you can't shake the sense that there's an undercurrent of something else in those words. Almost like she's accusing others of making you tired or something. You're probably just imagining it.

Briefly, you wonder why she joined you if she thought you were asleep.

As if reading your thoughts, your club president continues, "Sorry if I disturbed you, Y/N." She slows the pace while you assure her that it was okay and she had done no such thing, stopping eventually to gaze upwards.

You follow suit to see the Ferris wheel towering above your heads. "I haven't been up there today," you comment thoughtfully. "Is it a pretty view?"

Monika dips her head slightly in assent. "I think so, yeah. Coming?" She leads you over to the man who is seating people in each of the carts, and he warns that this is the last go-around. "We understand, thank you," Monika says to him, and while she's just as charming, you think you know her well enough now to tell that this is her feigned politeness, like her guard is up.

He grunts and allows the two of you in one of the carts, shutting the glass door behind you.

You actually aren't scared at all. Well, you guess you are a little apprehensive at being in this small space alone with Monika, but you tell yourself you're being ridiculous. She's your friend, isn't she? So there's not a thing in the world to be nervous about...

The cart starts to go up into the air, and you stay standing while Monika takes a seat. Your hands press against the glass as the two of you climb higher and higher. The city is there, with all it's buildings and roads, but beyond it is... you can't really see what's beyond the city, and this confuses you. Shouldn't there be...something? Instead of just, blurry darkness? You blink several times and then brush at your eyes with the back of one hand like your sight is trying to deceive you. But when you look again, you still see only the murky black of nothingness beyond your city.

Monika's voice so near to you gives you a start- you'd been so dumbfounded by the missing scenery that you hadn't heard her stand up and come closer to you. Instead of watching the outside world, you sense her eyes are fixed intently on you. "What do you think?"

It's almost a relief to tear your gaze away from the glass. Her expression is rather closed off but serious, and sort of searching yours. You wish, not for the first time, that Monika was less of a mystery to you.

How to respond? "It's- strange," you manage to say.

The brunette leans impossibly closer to you, alight with surprise and near-disbelief as she presses, "What do you mean strange, Y/N?"

Feeling awkward and pressured, you find yourself taking a step backwards from Monika to get some space between you two. 'She'll think I'm crazy if I say it looks like we're floating in the middle of nowhere-outer-space in the middle of like a black hole or something.' "J-Just that-" You can see something akin to desperation written on her now, like she's trying to silently plead with you to answer her question sincerely. You fumble on the words, unused to this sort of intensity. "Just that...the town- it looks- different from up here..." Each word is stiff and awkward, you're really an awful liar, maybe even as bad as Natsuki.

Fervid disappointment seems to shake Monika's entire being, and she pulls back away from you, looking outside of the Ferris wheel cart again and far off into the distance. She's starting to become composed again and when the cart makes it last lap around and comes to a slow halt at the bottom, she turns back to face you and she's her usual self again: friendly, sweet, and bright. "I understand. Thank you, Y/N." The door to the cart opens and Monika moves to step out, offering you her hand to help you out.

Your breathing feels a little labored, and it isn't until later that you realize you'd actually been afraid. Not of Monika, more of the fact that you'd never once seen her behave anything like that before. It left such an impression on you that you were positive you hadn't imagined it. You do end up accepting her hand though, and you wonder if she can feel it's slight tremble.

One thing you weren't sure if you had imagined was the weird end of the world thing surrounding your city. Maybe there was something wrong with you. But you couldn't really think about that now.

"I told you it was a pretty view," giggled Monika. "You seem surprised. Didn't believe me?" She teased gently.

"Oh-! Oh, no, it isn't that! Like I said, it just was, er... different than I expected, is all," you murmur, glancing away- Monika's still holding your hand, but you don't have the heart to pull it out of her grasp.

You don't end up having to make that choice, since she jumps away from you at the yell of your friend Sayori. You see her bounding over to the two of you, just barely managing to hit the brakes and skid to a halt before colliding with you. She does however manage to shower you with dust and pebbles, to which you just press a hand to your forehead to quell a headache.

"Y/N! There you are! I was looking all over the place for you!" Sayori exclaims. She then waves at Monika, as bubbly as ever even though she should've, theoretically, gotten rid of some of that excess energy at the amusement park today. "Hey, Monika! Thanks for looking after her," she laughed.

Monika nods, much to your indignation. "My pleasure, Sayori. I'd better head off, then. I'll see you both after school for the club Monday!" She walked away, waving her farewell for a moment.

You didn't realize you were watching her go until Sayori's hand flailed in front of your face to get your attention. "Hey, we are going home together, aren't we?" She insists. "Otherwise I wasted soooo much time trying to hunt you down, Y/N!"

"Right, right, sorry. Of course we're walking back together- I was looking for you too."

Sayori pouts a little. "Did you think I'd be on the Ferris wheel?"

You grin. "Did you just use sarcasm, Sayori?"

She shakes her head quickly to deny it. "No, never! But am I wrong?"

"Okay, so maybe I did agree to spend some time with Monika," you confess with a shrug, allowing Sayori to pull you away towards the amusement park exit.

Sayori frowns, an unusual look for her. But it isn't a sad frown- it's a concentrated one. She was studying you with determination. "Did something happen? You seem a little out of it!" Amused, she pokes your cheek. "Fess up, Y/N! Do you have a crush on our club president? You have to tell me if you do! We're best friends!"

Sheesh, as if Sayori could ever keep a secret. But she was completely off base with that guess. "No," you answer her calmly. "I guess I...had some kind of epiphany."

".....what's an epiphany?"

'Ohmygod.'

#ddlc #doki doki literature club #sayori x reader #yuri x reader #natsuki x reader #monika x reader #ddlc x reader #scenarios #imagines #preferences #reader insert #fem reader #these are posted on my quotev already #but I'll post them here too just to have them available #i've never posted my writing on tumblr so pls be gentle with criticisms and such #aaaaaaaa

110 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 4 years

Note

cee omg you could literally write a drabble about uni!yoongi making out with yn and i would literally die

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; uni!yoongiverse!! nsfw i think?? i’m not sure?? what do u call it if it’s simultaneously smut and not smut at the same time.,,. smaybe smut,,. smalmost smut,.. smerhaps smut,.,.

➺ wordcount: 1.5k is this a baby drabble??? idk i’m counting it as a regular drabble

➺ what to expect; “i’m going to need you to shut up now, please.”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read some other drabbles from the uni!yoongiverse!

➺ note; this was originally a baby drabble (literally was only going to be a couple of sentences at the moST) but i got carried away so here we are :D also i wrote this while my professor was in the background talking about 16th century literature on zoom and now it’s a genuine concern for me as to whether or not ancient literature is my aphrodisiac

»»————-　♡　————-««

you never really know how yoongi does it

every time you tell yourself that this time, you won’t let yourself be distracted by your boyfriend, it’s only three seconds later that you find yourself straddling him on the couch with your hands all over him

and theN when you tell yourself that you’ll only entertain him for ten minutes maximum before getting back to work he does that dumb boyish smirk and head tilt thing (“you sure you wanna go back to your textbook?”) that makes your knees all wobbly and your tummy all warm and before you know it your poor textbooks have been abandoned on the coffee table

one time you even left a marker uncapped and when you came back an hour later it was all dRY

yoongi dipped it into a glass of water in a poor attempt to revive it but it was too late

(he bought u a set of new markers from the bookstore on campus to make up for it)

“do you- mm- do you wanna hear about the classes i’m taking this semester?” you pull away and reach up to adjust your glasses that are now a little wonky considering the fact you and yoongi have been kissing for- has it already been twenty minutes?!

what happened to your ten minute rule??

yoongi rolls his eyes playfully before nodding, “go for it, dork-” he snorts before nudging his nose against your chin to get you to tilt your head back

he knows that if he says no you’re going to whinE about it for the entire time he’s groping you on the sofa so he might as well let you get it off your chest

“okay, so i’m taking this super cool literature course on trauma-“ you hum as you wrap your arms loosely around yoongi’s neck

yoongi starts to press warm kisses against your jaw while his hand slides down from your waist so that he’s gripping the side of your thigh, “mm, yeah? sounds cool.”

“it’s so super cool!” you gasp excitedly, “and the professor is super nice - i mean, she’s a little ditzy with zoom, but that’s to be expected - oh, anD she has purple hair, which automatically makes her the coolest professor ever-” you absentmindedly shift in yoongi’s lap and he grunts when you grind down against him in the process

also

side note

(not that he’s not paying attention to what you’re saying right now, but it’s pretty hard to noT focus on the fact that he’s currently kissing up on his very pretty girlfriend)

he was never really into dry humping before you came along

you guys don’t do it as often considering the fact that now,.,. now u can just have plain ol sex buT sometimes you’ll get into it if you’re on a tight schedule or something

like the other night yoongi had some dinner plans with a couple of friends (aka going to town on 5 XL pizzas in a grubby frat house) but yoU, for some reason, decided that while he was in the middle of putting his shoes on, that was the perfect time to tell him that you wanted to play

“the last person who gets there has to take out the garbage, and i am noT going to take out the garbage again-“

“but don’t you like it when i grind on you wearing just your sweatshirt?”

yoongi pauses in the middle of tying his laces

so yeah

he was the last one to arrive at the frat house which meant he was on garbage duty but it was totally worth it

and yeah, he supposes dry humping is typically something that only a couple of hormonal prepubescent teenagers would be into but.,,. with you, it’s just so,.,.., it’s so hot

he likes seeing you get so worked up over him when he hasn’t even taken any of his clothes off yet

his favourite is when he’s lying on his back and you’re on top just because he… likes it when you’re on top

there really isn’t a very deep explanation to his preference

it’s a nice view! sue him!

he also likes when you place your hands on his chest

you say it’s because it helps keep you from falling off but he knows you just like touching him there

and right as you’re about to cum, your fingers always twitch and he likes the feeling of your nails digging into the thick fabric of his hoodies

not to mention, he loves seeing your reactions whenever he starts talking dirty to you because your cheeks and the tips of your ears get super red and usually you get all quiet and whimpery but there’s always a fire in your eyes like you’re ready to rip all of his clothes off

like there was one time he actually just wanted to tease you just to see how far he could go (you weren’t paying any attention to him because your stupid nose was stuck in your stupid books as per usual and he was getting really bored) and he’d never seen you so needy before

“yeah? you like it when i talk to you like this?” yoongi coos and bites back a grin when you buck your hips against him with a pitiful whine slipping past your lips

he presses his palm flat against your hip to keep you from moving, “aw, what’s the matter, baby? need me?” yoongi pushes his bottom lip out in a mocking pout as he hooks a finger into the waistband of your skirt before giving it a playful tug

“yoongi, please-“ you prop yourself up on your elbows before leaning up to try to get yoongi to kiss you

he’s been dodging your kisses for the past five minutes which he’s been really enjoying because you look awfully cute when you frown at him like that

and to make matters worse (for you, duh! not him >:-)) he knoWs you really really like kissing him

yoongi nearly snorts when he notices you looking at him like you’re about to skin him alive

he totally gets it because he’s basically blue-balling you

it’s nice to be on the other side of the situation for once!

no wondER you do it all the time

“yoongi.” you clear your throat and he raises a brow

“mhm?”

“i don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-“ you poke your finger against his chest, “in three seconds, i’m going to get on my hands and knees for you - and i want you to push my skirt up, tug my panties to the side, and fuck me. please fuck me.”

yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise and he pulls back a little

you very rareLY use swear words on a daily basis - in fact, you usually scold him when he brings his potty mouth into your apartment - so he’s not used to you dropping the f-bomb so casuall-

“did i mention i started taking birth control?”

yoongi’s mouth immediately goes dry

“-also taking a literature class on shakespeare, which is really bringing me back to high school-“ yoongi snaps out of his little trip down memory lane when he feels you shift on his lap again

okay well

he was like 5% horny earlier but now that the gates of his spank bank have basically flung wiDE open it’s safe to say that he’s roughly… 98% horny?

maybe a little more

maybe like 150% horny

you could flick his forehead and he would have a mind-blowing orgasm - that’s how horny he is.

it’s not his fault!!!

blame the spank bank!!!

“and- oh!” you find yourself flopping back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling all of a sudden and you blink quickly as your brain attempts to catch up to what the hecK is happening right now

“i’m going to need you to shut up now, please.” yoongi’s face pops up in front of your eyes and your eyes widen when he drags you down towards him until his very obvious bulge is pressing right up against your centre

you feel your face flush bright red and you find yourself struggling to come up with anything to say because a second ago you were literally talking about william frickin shakespeare, “but-”

“here’s what’s going to happen-“ yoongi tugs his sweatshirt up over his head, “first, i’m gonna go down on you,” he tosses it aside before leaning over and placing both hands on either side of your head, the thin silver chain hanging around his neck dangling down, “and then we’re gonna fuck-”

“language!” you say on instinct and yoongi immediately snorts

that’s pretty rich coming from you, miss flip-my-skirt-up-and-fuck-me-now

“and you know, since i’m feeling particularly generous today,” he ignores your comment about his oh-so inappropriate language, “i’ll gladly let you choose how we boink-”

(you end up riding him which we all know is the decision yoongi is more than happy with.)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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darthkruge · 3 years

Note

hey could you do a jess mariano x reader where the reader has dyslexia but loves to read. someone at school makes a comment about her being dumb and she gets insecure but jess is super reassuring to the reader about how intelligent she is. also they can either be already dating or have mutual crushes. whatever you think fits better. <3

Jess Mariano x Dyslexic!Reader ~ All of You

Summary: Someone at school insults the dyslexic reader and their boyfriend, Jess, provides reassurance.

Warnings: Bullying, language, insecurities, I think that’s it?

Words: 2.1k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so, so sorry this took me so long to get to! I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t mean to keep you in the ask box void. I really enjoyed writing this, so thank you for requesting! I decided to make them already be dating because that’s where my brain went hehe. I hope you like it :)

You walked to school hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, as always. Even though it took him about 15-20 minutes out of the way, Jess never missed walking with you. He hated the thought of you starting your day by yourself and never wanted you to feel forgotten about or lonely. Thus, the tradition began and it has stayed the way you start your day, everyday, for the last few months that you’ve been dating.

Jess pulled you behind the science building, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands instinctively wove into his hair and his arms wound around your waist, pulling your bodies together. He smiled into the kiss before pulling away from your lips and gently moving his kisses down the side of your neck. You hummed in content before moving to meet his face again, once again pressing your lips to his.

These stolen moments were what you lived for. You’d never felt too confident in yourself, at least as far as relationships went, and you weren’t used to this kind of affection. Even so, you loved every moment of it. Everything with Jess felt so natural. No matter what, you came first to him and he never failed to show it.

You both pulled away and he softly kissed your forehead.

“See you after second period?”

“Of course”

“Okay, love. Text me if you need me. Or if you’re bored. Or if you miss me”

“Oh, yes! That Jess Mariano charm. I’m not sure how I’ll endure two classes without it!”

“I’m sure it’ll prove quite e difficult,” Jess said, laughing. The bell rang and he gave you one last smile before you parted.

You walked into your English class with a smile on your face, giddy after the experience with him. He made you feel alive. It was the kind of feeling you didn’t know you needed, but once you felt it you couldn’t imagine losing it.

You sat down in your seat, waiting for the teacher to start class.

“Okay, everyone. Today we’re just going to be doing some silent reading for the first half of class and then I’ll put you in small groups to work on a new project”

Fuck. Group projects were the fucking worst. Unless you got one of your friends, people were normally assholes and impossible to work with.

Even though you were upset with the new development, you were excited to have time to read. You pulled out your copy of The Great Gatsby that Jess had lent you and picked up where you last left off. Because you read so much and generally did well or at least half-decent in school, people never assumed you had dyslexia. Lots of people had this false narrative that if you have dyslexia, you must hate reading. It was something you were used to, the stupid comments and assumptions. You tried to not let it get to you but you sometimes felt frustrated. You’d run into loads of ignorant people in your life and while you weren’t ashamed to have dyslexia, you hated having to explain it to every new teacher, every new friend in your life. You never knew how’d they’d react.

Even so, reading was one of your greatest joys in life. Losing yourself in the work, in the story, it was enthralling. You loved to find characters that you connected with. Their emotions were palpable and made you feel validated and less alone. Reading was one of the main things that brought you and Jess together. He knew you had dyslexia and, thankfully, never treated you like you were any less. You were afraid he would break up with you once you told him, but, of course, he didn’t. You were still you, and that’s all he cared about.

He loved trading books with you and hearing your thoughts on them. In doing so, he felt the two of you were brought closer together. Discussing literature was an almost intimate experience in your relationship. Learning which characters and themes resonated with a person was truly illuminating about their personality and mind. Right now, as you read Gatsby, Jess was reading Pride and Prejudice. You loved Jane Austen, as did Jess, and you completely enjoyed discussing her work.

After a few moments lost in thought, your teacher’s voice pulled you back to the present. “Alright! Okay so for the group project you will be analyzing the short story “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. Please read it together today and discuss what you think the most pertinent theme is. I’ve already assigned the groups and I’ll display them on the board right now.”

Your teacher stepped back and turned on the projector so you could see the groups. Scanning for your name, you internally groaned when you saw who you were with. Sarah, Justin, and Alex. They were all close and their friend group didn’t exactly have the best reputation. You grabbed your bag, walked over to them, and sat down.

“So, y’all just wanna read it? Then just talk about it, I guess. We’re looking for themes, right?” Sarah asked.

Everyone nodded, opening up the copies of the short story placed on your desks. You jumped in and immediately felt yourself pulled into the writing. After a few minutes, your eyes glued to the story, you heard the rest of your group closing their packets.

“Alright, everyone done?” Justin asked.

“Yeah, you?” Alex said

Sarah nodded in agreement.

You, on the other hand, felt your cheeks flush. You were only about 70% through the story. “Sorry, I just need a bit more time, is that okay?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Just hurry up,” Sarah groaned.

Your face burning, you went back to the reading. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying, you were! They just wouldn’t understand it. You couldn’t count the amount of times people had told you to just “focus more”. It made your blood boil, honestly. It was so dismissive and you couldn't believe people still thought that way. You always focused and it wasn’t your fault, and, yet, morons like these three persisted. After a few more minutes, you heard Alex again.

“Come on! You can’t possibly still be reading?”

“I’m sorry, just-” You sighed, running your hands through your hair. “Please, just a few more minutes?”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid. No wonder no one wants to work with you. All you do is hold people up, you’re a goddamn idiot” Alex said.

Your eyes burned and unshed tears started to push their way up but you fought them down. You wouldn’t let yourself cry in front of them. They didn’t deserve to see how they’d affected you.

Finally, the bell went off and you were able to leave. Your group glared at you and you realized you hadn’t discussed the themes.

“It’s, um, the story’s about the juxtaposition of peace and violence. Even though the people are in a calm, controlled setting, they resort to violence every year. It’s an outdated tradition they keep up and, thus, it highlights the difference between their actions and how they want to be perceived.” You said quickly, voice wavering.

Your group scoffed before walking off. That didn’t bother you too much. You knew your analysis was accurate and probably far better than anything they could have come up with, even if they’d spent the last 15 minutes of class discussing it. Despite this, you still felt deflated. The shit they’d said, the way they’d treated you? You couldn’t deny it, it got to you.

You walked over to your locker and put your stuff away. After that, you decided you were just going to go home. You could call the school later and say you were feeling sick or something. Honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were just so drained, you needed to get away from this place and the people in it.

However, you didn’t want Jess to worry. You sent him a quick text saying you weren’t feeling well and put on your headphones before walking out of the school.

What you didn’t expect was Jess to come flying out of nowhere, appearing by your side as if you’d summoned him.

“Jess! What are you doing? Don’t you have class!”

He shrugged. “You weren’t feeling well. Did you honestly expect I’d leave you by yourself? And, seriously, Y/N, you know I hate this place. You’re the only thing that makes it bearable so if you wouldn’t be here, why should I?”

You nodded and kept walking forward. Jess looked at you quizzically, trying to decode your dejected state. He kept quiet, knowing not to push you to talk. He trusted you’d come to him when you were ready. Therefore, he simply followed you until you made it off campus, where you turned into a random alley and suddenly stopped walking.

Jess caught himself, almost running right into you. You suddenly turned around, dropped your bag, and bolted right into his chest. He was caught off guard but instinctively brought his arms around you, trying to comfort you. He noticed you were crying, your broken sobs getting muffled in his shirt. He soothingly rubbed his arms up and down your back, desperately trying to give you solace. After you finally quieted down, Jess gently and slowly pulled you back.

His hands gripped your shoulders as he studied your face, your sad gaze meeting his. “What happened?”

“Stupid English, that’s all”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t shut me out. What happened?” He said, his tone kind.

“I-” You trailed off, trying to keep your composure. “Some kids just said some shit. I was just reading slower than them and they said some shit. It’s not a big deal, I just- it got to me, okay?”

“Who?” Jess said, firmly this time.

“Jess-”

“Who, Y/N?”

“Alex, Justin, and Sarah.”

Jess groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fuck them, Y/N. They’re fucking ridiculous and they don’t know anything about you”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m so goddamn frustrated! Because, like, it did get to me. Jess- Jess, they’re right. I felt like an idiot today, I felt stupid. And I hate feeling that way!” Hot tears smarmed in your eyes, the frustration and anger bringing them out.

Jess’s gaze softened. As livid as he felt toward the three of them, he knew that’s not what you needed right now.

“Hey, hey, hey. Love, take a breath. I’ve got you, okay?”

You nodded, your breathing shaky from the stress of the day.

“I’m sorry that happened today. Listen to me, Y/N. You’re so smart. You’re smarter than I am, hell, you’re smarter than anyone at that school! They’ve got nothing on you!”

You looked at him and smiled at his words but shook your head. “You don’t need to do that, Jess”

“Yes, I do. We promised we’d be honest in our relationship, right? Well, that’s all I’m doing. Seriously, Y/N, who else at that school could debate the themes in literature with me like you? Who could discuss the importance of accurate representation in books with me? Who could talk to me about just how influential YA books are and why they should be taken seriously-?”

“They are and they should!” You cut in.

Jess laughs, nodding in agreement. “Exactly!! You’re amazing, Y/N. And I swear those fuckheads are gonna get what’s coming to them”

“Jess-” You warn.

“Okay, okay!” He laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “They just- they messed with you and made you upset and I fucking hate that”

“I hated it too. I hate doubting myself because of my dyslexia. I feel so shit about myself when I get in that headspace and I start spiraling and it gets out of control so fast.”

“I know. It’s not your fault when those spirals happen. And I know you know this, but I’m just gonna remind you: you’re not any less because you’re dyslexic. It doesn’t make you stupid or anything. It’s a part of you and I love you, all of you”

Your heart swelled at his words. Everyone thought Jess wasn’t good expressing his emotions but you knew the truth. He was quite eloquent when he wanted to be, he just sometimes had trouble with vulnerability. You didn’t blame him for it, with his past it made perfect sense. But when you needed that reassurement, that compassion, you could always count on him for it.

He moved to place a kiss on your forehead before slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“Okay” You smiled up at him and kissed him once more before tucking your head into his shoulder. He pulled you closer and you grabbed his free hand with yours as you continued to walk through the Stars Hollow streets together.

#jess mariano x reader #jess mariano #jess mariano x you #jess mariano fanfic #jess mariano fic #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano x gn!reader #jess mariano x gender neutral reader #jess mariano x dyslexic reader #jess mariano x dyslexic!reader #gilmore girls x reader

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brieflygorgeouss · 5 years

Text

thinking thoughts of you and me

They are supposed to write about what they're most scared of.

Which is — great. As if Lucas didn’t dislike literature enough already.

The teacher says, ”Focus on your personal experience, okay?” and writes a date on the board, of when they’re supposed to turn the paper in. It’s next Monday.

Lucas’s gaze catches on it and then stays, until Imane nudges him with her elbow, saying, ”Just so you know, if you don’t write down the requirements right now, I’m not giving my notes to you later.”

———

”If you could be anywhere right now,” Lucas asks, ”where would you want to be?”

It’s past midnight. Lucas can hear Eliott’s steady heartbeat where he has his ear pressed to Eliott’s chest. All he can see are the dark shapes of furniture on the other side of the room and the numbers on the digital clock on his nightstand blinking in the dark and the faint outline of Eliott’s shoulder illuminated by them. It’s one of those nights when his mind doesn’t want to sleep even when his body does. That happens sometimes, when he’s tired and when something in his mind goes slightly sideways, and Lucas just keeps thinking and thinking and thinking. The night always feels a little heavier than it should, then. He wonders if that makes any sense at all.

Eliott is warm next to him, running hot everywhere they’re touching, his arm slung over Lucas’s waist to keep him close, and Lucas would think that he’s asleep if it wasn’t for his fingers tracing Lucas’s spine where his shirt rides up, a tiny movement. Lucas presses his ear closer to Eliott’s chest and counts his own breaths, matches them to the pace of Eliott’s heartbeat just because he can.

”I don’t know,” Eliott answers after a while, quietly, after Lucas counts to 30 and gets lost. His voice blends into the night, fits right in next to the sound of cars outside, sounds of the city drifting into the room through the open window. ”Where would you want to go?”

”I asked you first,” Lucas says. He tilts his head up, trying to catch Eliott’s gaze, but then Eliott’s hand tangles in his hair, lazily, familiar, and Lucas stays where he is, closing his eyes. He wonders if Eliott can feel Lucas’s lashes against his skin. He hopes so.

”But my answer depends on your answer,” Eliott tells him, sounding right on the verge of sleep. His hand in Lucas’s hair feels heavy. His arm around Lucas’s waist feels warm, a familiar weight. Lucas breathes in, breathes out.

”Why?”

”Because I wanna be where you are,” Eliott says. His hand on Lucas’s spine stills. ”And I’ll go wherever you wanna go. So?”

And Lucas thinks, anywhere. Anywhere, with you.

———

They don’t rush things — or try not to, anyway, because minute by minute is one thing and being in love is another. Lucas moves back into his room and makes sure the lock on the door works, and Eliott spends every other night in his bed, now that he actually has one and doesn’t have to sleep on that godforsaken couch anymore.

Eliott asks him about it, once, smiling like he never ever stopped, ”Was the couch really that bad?”

”Yes,” Lucas says. ”You’ve spent enough time on it to know that yourself.”

They’re supposed to be doing homework together, which Lucas should have known was a bad idea from the very beginning, but Eliott kissed him at the school gate, saying, ”We’re going to yours, then?” and how was Lucas supposed to say no to that, honestly. So here they are, sprawled on the bed side by side, Lucas with his chemistry notebook and Eliott pretending to go over literature. Neither of them touched their notes in half an hour.

Eliott props up on his elbow and casts Lucas a glance, turning towards him. His hair is a mess and his eyes are gleaming in the afternoon sun; Lucas’ gaze catches on his lips for a second too long before moving elsewhere. They’re mingling into each other’s spaces, curling like parentheses, centimeters apart, Eliott lying on his side and Lucas on his stomach. Eliott’s hand brushes Lucas’ arm when he plays with a page of his book.

”I mean, I don’t know,” Eliott is saying, tilts his head like he’s in deep thought, but Lucas can see a smirk starting to pull at the corner of his mouth already. ”I kind of liked it, you know.”

It makes Lucas frown, half-confused and half-sure it’s some kind of a joke. ”Are you serious?”

”Yeah,” Eliott tells him then, and then the beginnings of the smile break out into a wide grin before Eliott can stop it. He raises his eyebrows suggestively, says, ”Some really cool things happened on there, it makes me feel almost nostalgic—” and then he starts laughing at Lucas’ slightly flustered oh my god, the sound loud and free, and Lucas can’t help a smile on his own.

”I don’t know what your priorities are,” he says in retaliation, fighting his ridiculous abashment at the thought, ”but I actually prefer to have a door that locks instead of camping out in the middle of the living room while doing all the cool things you mean,” and it only makes Eliott grin wider as he smoothes a hand along the line of Lucas’ jaw, ducks his head down to press a kiss on his cheekbone.

”You have a point,” he giggles, kissing Lucas’ temple, then again and again, sweet. ”You have a point, actually.”

———

So what is Lucas afraid of?

———

The thing about fear is this — once it grows roots, it’s impossible to weed out.

He doesn’t think about it often, but sometimes he does. See, Lucas is good at it — at pushing thoughts onto the outskirts of his mind, at keeping the thoughts at bay. Somewhere where he can lock them away in the daylight and reach for them in the nighttime. Keep them around for only a second or two, feel the sting of them, then tuck them away again, for later. For good. He’s had a lot of practice.

He does that less and less, but it happens, still. It’s a sting as he writes a new message to his dad, wonders if he’ll reply this time and knows that he probably won’t. When he talks to his mom and she keeps smiling at him like nothing bad ever happened, even though they both know it did. When he lets his mind wander and remembers all the shitty things he did to Yann because he was looking for the sun at midnight like an idiot. Remembers all the shitty things he said to Eliott, once, thinks that Eliott is a much better person than Lucas himself if he was able to swallow it all down, push it away, forgive.

———

He walks Eliott all the way to his parents’ apartment on Wednesday after class; they hold hands throughout the whole bus ride there, and then during the walk from the bus station, too. Eliott lifts their tangled hands to his lips at one point, brushes a kiss against Lucas’s knuckles and Lucas almost stutters halfway through the story he’s telling.

”Come on,” Eliott tugs him to the front door of the apartment building once they’re there, ”You can just say ”Hi” and go.”

Lucas pretends to think about it as Eliott rocks on his feet, but then just rolls his eyes with a smile when Eliott mutters a please, come on. ”Just for a while.”

”Just for a while, scout’s honor,” Eliott tells him, makes a weird salute-like gesture, and before Lucas can tell him that it doesn’t mean anything if he was never a scout, he’s tugging him upstairs.

Eliott’s parents are in town for a visit, a couple of days here and then off to somewhere again. His mom makes dinner, and Lucas would love to stay for it, too, like Eliott insists, but he already promised Imane to meet up and go over the biology material before the test next week. He needs to be at her house in half an hour or she might never agree to help him again like she threatened last time, and he’d like to prevent that from happening. He tells Eliott as much as they climb up to the apartment and Eliott just shoots him a look over his shoulder.

”She likes you too much to do that,” he says, opening the door.

”That’s not true,” Lucas says, but weakly. Eliott raises an eyebrow at him, gestures for Lucas to come in first, then shuts the door behind them, shrugs off his jacket.

The whole apartment smells of spices already; there’s music coming in from the kitchen, followed by a low humming, slightly off tune. It stops seconds after the door shuts behind them, and then Eliott’s mom comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a towel, smiling brightly.

”Everything’s almost ready,” she says in the lieu of a hello, rises on her tiptoes to kiss her son’s cheek, then kisses Lucas’s cheek, too, unexpected. ”It’s nice to see you, Lucas.”

Lucas tries to ignore the weird urge to lift his hand to where Eliott’s mom kissed him and smiles politely instead. ”You too, Mrs. Demaury.”

It’s only his third time seeing Eliott’s parents, since they’re out of town so often. They’re nice people, warm and welcoming and seemingly fitting with one another like Lucas only has seen on TV or read in the books. There is something about the atmosphere they’ve created in their home that makes Lucas feel slightly off, every time he’s around.

They’re a real family. Maybe that’s what it is.

”Hello, Lucas!” he hears from the kitchen, Eliott’s dad in a spot Lucas can’t see from the hallway, so he pokes his head into the room. Mr. Demaury is the midst of chopping up onions and looks like he’s about to cry from it. Lucas waves at him a little lamely and he waves back.

”How have you been?” Eliott’s dad asks. He smiles the exact same smile that Eliott has.

”Good,” Lucas says, because he’s stellar at small talk, you see. ”I’m sorry the onions are making you cry, Mr. Demaury.”

Eliott snickers at that as he comes up behind Lucas and rests his chin at the top of Lucas’s head.

”Thank you,” Eliott’s dad says at that, shooting his son a look and then turning back to his task. ”You’re the only one who feels any compassion here.”

”Will you eat with us, Lucas?” Mrs. Demaury asks, ignoring her husband, and it makes Lucas smile. ”There’s more than enough for you, too.”

”I promised to meet up with a friend today, I’m sorry,” he tells her, and something like genuine disappointment flits across her features at that. Lucas writes it off as a trick of light. ”Just came to say "Hi".”

”That’s nice of you,” she says, and Eliott repeats it into Lucas’s hair, low enough only for him to hear, yeah, you’re so nice, Lucas, which makes Lucas’s chest swell with affection, a sudden surge, there and then gone again, even though he knows Eliott's kidding. ”Next time then.”

”Yeah,” Lucas agrees, ”next time.”

He feels weird about it. Feels weird as he and Eliott lounge around the kitchen for a couple of minutes, feels weird when Eliott kisses him goodbye at the front door later, once, twice, thrice, drawing it out as if they aren’t supposed to see each other tomorrow. Lucas is not complaining, only melts into it until Eliott mutters, ”Have fun with Imane,” and Lucas is reminded that he’s supposed to be at her place in like fifteen minutes. He hears Eliott laugh at him as he scrambles down the stairs, calls out to him to shut up as a goodbye but without any real heat in the words. Eliott sends him a text approximately 10 seconds later. It’s a heart.

It feels weird when he’s sitting on a bus, and later when he’s arguing with Imane over their notes, later when he’s on his way back to his place. It’s one of those things he pushes away until he can’t anymore, until it bubbles up like a balloon someone wanted to keep under the surface of a lake.

On his walk back from the bus station, Lucas’s phone vibrates with a new text message. It’s a notification about a transfer to his bank account, the exact same amount as always, not more, not less.

He feels weird, and here’s why — looking at Eliott’s family makes him miss his own.

They used to be like that, too, is the thing. When Lucas was five, six, seven years old and everything was okay, in a different time and a different place. They used to go on vacation in the summer, go to the park on the weekends. His mom taught him how to play the piano every Thursday afternoon and sent him off to school with a kiss to his cheek every morning. His dad used to read him bedtime stories and always pretended not to see when Lucas very obviously fed his vegetables to their dog under the table at dinner. His parents used to dance around the living room in the evenings, with Lucas curled up on the couch. He used to think it was gross when he was eight. He used to think, I can’t wait for the day when they stop.

Sometimes Lucas thinks it would be better for him if things between his parents were always shit; if he never knew what it’s like to have a full, loving family, he wouldn’t know what he’s supposed to be missing, right?

But he does. It’s not fair.

And now, it’s Eliott’s mom who presses kisses to Lucas’s cheek, Eliott’s dad who’s asking about his day. Imane’s parents smiled at him when he was leaving, too, saying, ”See you soon!”

It’s a stupid thing to get sad about, but that’s how he feels.

He sends his mom a text, i’m sorry that we haven’t talked recently. i miss you. To his dad, he sends, thank you for the money.

A couple of minutes later, his mom sends him a Bible verse in reply, something about patience, and humility, and longing. His dad doesn’t respond at all.

Lucas remembers, acutely, as he stares at his phone with the city streets getting dark around him, how when he was smaller, he asked his dad once if he thought the world was a fair place. A child’s question, and he doesn’t even remember why he asked it in the first place. His dad said, ”I think most people get exactly what they deserve, son.”

Lucas pockets his phone and goes.

———

Later, he opens up a word document on his computer and types his name at the top of the page, then the title below it, and then stares at the blinking cursor for the next twenty minutes.

The thing I am scared of, the page tells him, in big letters.

Lucas closes the file without writing anything, tells himself he still has time. It’s just a stupid homework assignment anyway.

———

”Truth,” Basile says, ”or dare?”

Arthur says, ”This is ridiculous.”

It really is. The party is going wild in the living room, the bass pouring through the speakers and people laughing and mingling on the dance floor, while Lucas is — well, here. Sitting on the floor in a circle with his friends and a few other people he doesn’t think he knows, more than slightly tipsy, playing fucking truth or dare, of all things, or something between that and spin the bottle, anyway. Basile had ushered them all in here and made them sit on the floor and then whipped out an empty bottle of beer out of nowhere and it was already too late to escape by then, even though they all kept telling him that this was not how this game worked.

The only thing that’s making it all slightly less dumb is Eliott’s weight against Lucas’s side where he’s sitting next to him.

”Don’t try to get out of this, dude,” Basile says, shooting Arthur a look that is probably meant to be warning, except that Basile is too far gone at this point, so it just looks weird. ”Truth or dare?”

”Fine, Jesus. Truth.”

”Who,” Basile says, ”is the person you hate the most and why?”

Arthur very obviously pretends to think about it before he says, ”You, for making me play this game right now,” while looking Basile straight in the eye, and Lucas can’t help the laugh that escapes him, especially when others start laughing, too.

Because yeah, the game sucks, kind of, but the rest is fine. Lucas has been stressing over too many things at once again, has been getting lost in his own head, thinking about school and family and everything else. It’s good not to think about anything for a while. Good to just spend some time with his friends, with Eliott leaning into his side, getting tipsy and loose-limbed and flushed, feeling the bass thrumming in his veins. He lets his hand trail down Eliott’s arm, centimeters from his own, then tangles their fingers together without looking.

Arthur spins the bottle this time, even though Basile complains, and Lucas watches it until it stops, pointing at Eliott.

”Truth or dare,” Arthur asks.

Eliott squeezes Lucas’s hand in his. ”Dare.”

When Lucas turns and looks at him, Eliott is already smiling brightly with a glint in his eyes, slightly flushed from the alcohol and the overall commotion of the party. Lucas feels light-headed at the sight; then briefly wonders if it’s because he’s drunk too much or if it’s just Eliott.

”Okay,” Arthur says, raising his eyebrows, and it takes him just a few seconds to come up with, ”Kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

”Dude,” Basile says, ”he’d have to, like, kiss himself,” and Lucas faintly registers Yann and Mika cackling across the room at the comment, but Eliott just shrugs a little sheepishly, muttering, well, that’s easy, and then turns and cups Lucas’s face and kisses him right there and then.

Time gets a little wobbly after that. Lucas closes his eyes and angles his head and everything that isn’t Eliott’s lips or Eliott’s warmth kind of just fades away. Maybe playing this game wasn’t such a bad idea after all, if he gets to kiss Eliott just like that. His heartbeat is thrumming in his veins, almost matching the rhythm of the song from behind the wall.

”You two need to get a room, I swear, you're both insufferable,” Emma mutters when Eliott moves away and Lucas regains the ability to process his surroundings again, but she’s smiling widely as she says it. Lucas smiles back at her.

”More like boring,” Arthur says, and then, ”I should’ve known he’d choose Lucas anyway.”

Eliott laughs at that, throws his arm around Lucas’s shoulders and drags him closer, presses another quick kiss to his hair.

”Not boring,” he says, but it’s quiet enough that Lucas doesn’t think anyone else can hear the words, ”Just in love.”

———

Later, when they’re collectively staggering to the nearest bus stop, Yann leans a bit more heavily on Lucas between one step and the next and then all of a sudden says, words slurring together a little, ”You seem happy,” and then, ”Are you happy?”

That’s — unexpected, a little. Lucas blinks, repeats the question in his mind, then asks, ”Is that what you think about when you’re drunk?”

He’s sobered up a little by this point, although most of his thoughts are still hazy. It’s probably closer to dawn than to midnight right now, and the streets are quiet and dark but familiar despite it all, still. Eliott is behind them somewhere, saying goodbye to Sofiane. Arthur and Basile went ahead with a few other people and have already disappeared behind a corner, wobbly and laughing at each other.

”You’re my best friend, you know,” Yann says, and stops on the sidewalk, abruptly. His expression is serious. He gets like this sometimes in the strangest moments when Lucas least expects it. Lucas used to read into it a lot, before; now, he just breathes the night air in and watches as Yann sways on his feet a little. ”Of course I think about you.”

”Okay,” Lucas says, letting a tentative smile onto his face, but still not letting go of Yann entirely, because he doesn’t trust his balance fully yet. ”I’m doing fine. Why are you asking?”

”Just wanted to make sure."

It’s— such a simple and honest statement that it makes something warm unfurl in Lucas’s chest. And then Yann says, ”You deserve all the happiness you can get, you know.”

He means it. Yann’s leaning on Lucas in the middle of the sidewalk at 4 in the morning on a Saturday and he means it, Lucas realizes with slight bewilderment, Yann means everything he’s saying. Lucas blinks up at him, at his solemn face, a weird thing after a whole night of drinking and having fun, looks at his best friend who’s decided that right now is the best time to make Lucas feel like he’s more than he really is, and he thinks, stupidly grateful, thank you, thank you.

”As long as you guys are around,” he says after a couple of seconds instead, when he finds his voice, ”I’ll be okay.”

———

On Saturday, he drags himself out to the kitchen at roughly 2 pm, makes himself tea in an attempt to somewhat ease the hangover and then joins Mika and Lisa in the living room. They’re watching reruns of some TV show Lucas vaguely remembers having seen before. He stays around anyway, rolls his eyes at Mika’s running commentary and argues with Lisa over the volume being too high.

When Manon comes over, later, a tray of muffins in her hands, she only shoots them a glance and, chuckling, asks, ”Having fun?”

And honestly, Lucas thinks in the back of his head, fighting Mika off of him when Eliott sends him a text and Mika immediately tries to read it over Lucas’s shoulder at one point, yeah. It’s not bad at all.

———

So, here's how it is, eventually — on Sunday, Lucas finally writes the goddamn assignment, stares at the words until he feels lighter.

His assignment starts with, ”I am scared of people leaving me behind.”

It ends with, ”Some of them will. Some of them won’t. That’s okay.”

———

Eliott waits for him by his classroom when Lucas gets out of literature. He’s leaning against a wall, typing something on his phone, but raises his head before Lucas can even call out to him. The smile that lights up his whole face is breathtaking.

”Ready to go?” Eliott asks, kisses him in lieu of a hello as soon as Lucas gets close, and Lucas lets a smile bloom on his face.

”Yeah,” he says, takes Eliott’s hand, holds on tight, ”Let’s go."

#skam france #skamfr #elu fic #elu #ppl on ao3 seem to like it so here goes #might delete it cause im a cowardly bitch lmao #my writing #fics #fanfic #td

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shelbiegiles11 · 4 years

Text

THE END

Shelbie Giles

Portfolio Epilogue

Dear Fish,

This is my letter to you. I know I seem like a crazy kid and probably a whore from what you’ve heard in your class, but fear not I am not. My Free write for this portfolio was all about how I was excited the semester was ending and that this was my last English class I’ll ever have to take! But now, I want to focus this reflection a bit deeper than what I wrote about previously. I want to write about three main things, but knowing me this may get a little jumbled. The first thing: what happened during this class in my outside life. Second: the lessons I’ve learned specifically from you and your teachings. Third: how my writing has improved. So here we go.

First things first, so much shit has happened this semester it is unbelievable. I started this semester with no boyfriend and no intention of dating anyone during my first year of college, and now look at me! I have the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for, and it’s only freshman year! Not all good things happened either though. My Mom, for example, ended up breaking up with this guy she thought she was going to marry, and me? Well someone hit my car halfway through concert week and I am now carless because they totaled it. I took a trip to California at the beginning of the semester, and made friends that will probably be a part of my whole college experience. I didn’t just gain friends, I also experienced the loss of my high school pals. And that shit hurts. I don’t even remember the last day we talked ya know? Just poof! Gone. I started two new jobs in the time I’ve been going to school. I also took a trip to Moab the second week of the semester with a girl I only knew for a few weeks, and a boy I had only known for 2. I had the best time of my life! I think those moments where I decided to live instead of wait, those were the best moments. I got to see my favorite band perform for the 3rd time in my life. If you’re wondering my favorite band is AJR. I won and lost competitions, I painted a humans body, and crazily enough my dad got married. Look at all that, that is honestly the fastest my life has flown by, looking back and realizing that was only a few months when it has felt like years ago already. Life is too short not to live to our fullest potentials, and have the best time living! Like I once said in 5th grade, YOLO.

The second thing I wanna talk about is the meaningful lessons of Fish Burton. Now when you first walked into class and everyone thought you were just some student who was crazy, we were all shook when you introduced yourself as our teacher. But we learned that it didn’t matter who you were or what image you let us see because we got to know you somewhat in a way where it didn’t matter. We got to know who you really were this semester. I know you say you don’t know yourself, but the image you put out there for your students is an incredible guy to look up to. There are a few things I will never forget you teaching me, and the number one would probably be to love. The worlds not perfect, hell my boyfriends not perfect, but do we still love? Hopefully, that answer is yes. We have to learn to love the imperfections, and that’s one thing I will never forget from this class. Not only did that lesson teach me to love my self and improve my self-image, but that lesson also taught me not to take advantage of what’s right in front of me. The beautiful place I call home, I mean those mountains?! Holy cow! They’re gorgeous! I mean the people around us are gorgeous. There have been too many times where I see outfits, or people expressing themselves and I haven’t complimented them. It runs through my mind, sometimes I wish I had the confidence to wear certain things or had MY own style, but I’m impressed every day when I see other peoples. That’s also one thing that I’ve learned from you, I shouldn’t care what others think. I need to do what I like, and what I want! I mean not only in fashion, but choices in my life that I make have been based off how I thought others would react, but I should be focused on how I like what I’m doing. Are the choices I’m making really my choices, or do they reflect on what someone else would like. The last thing I want to mention that you have taught me is to ask questions. The first day of class you had students asking questions, and you were asking tough questions that I never thought I’d be thinking about, but that’s good! Questions are the way for our mind to expand! My boyfriend always says I don’t ask enough questions and he’s right. Maybe it’s because I’m scared of the answers, or I don’t know what questions to ask, but I’ve come to an understanding on how important they really are and how they improve relationships, environments, and lives. So thank you Fish, thank you for teaching me things that will be hard to forget.

The last thing I want to write about is how my writing as improved in this class. Grammatically correct writing? Most of the time no. Correct punctuation and spelling? Well, that’s why I downloaded Grammarly, but really my writing has improved in the way I write. I no longer follow a rubric or try to follow the “rules” of writing. This class has taught me to write from the heart, and even a long-ass research paper helped me understand that if I’m passionate about something, and I learn more about it there is so much out there to think about. When I started my research project my claim was, “we need people in our lives.” At the time in my life when I started with this claim I was at a place where I did need people, I needed people before I did something that I was going to regret, but through this whole semester not only visiting doctors, family, and friends, but being able to write this paper and to realize that it’s okay to be alone sometimes. Being alone can be good to focus, and to get your stuff done. So my claim changed by the end of the year too, “the benefits of being with people, and why loneliness can become dangerous.”

To conclude our little letter here I’d like to say Thank You Fish. I appreciate the stories you’ve shared with us, the lessons on literature and English that you have taught us so that we may be brighter and better students, and people. It wasn’t hard to recommend this class to my friends because honestly, you’re the best English teacher I’ve ever had. I hope that you find all the happiness in your life, and that you always keep writing poetry. Thanks again

Sincerely,

Me.

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momo-de-avis · 5 years

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Do you have any tips on how to start writing? I'm really bad at expressing my thoughts well so I figure if I write like, a diary or something I may get better at talking,

A diary is actually a good thing! A great thing, actually. Because it allows you to practice for yourself only. It’s one of those little writing corners where you can just be yourself, unlimited, boundless, as you wish, and no one will criticize you. If you allow your thoughts to just pour onto the paper, even if only a paragraph per day, I guarantee you will grow. It’s important for writers to keep practising, and it’s common advice to just tell WRITE EVERY DAY, which isn’t so helpful as people make it seem. Most of the time, people use this to mean like, write a story, a short story, participate in NaNoWriMo (if you’re like me and don’t like to set up goals like Nano does in fear of disappointing yourself or are just plain bad with deadlines, Nano is a terrible idea). But actually, a diary does wonders. It’s the perfect way of practising, and it goes both ways---you vent and you practice. It’s for you alone.

First of all: don’t be too demanding on yourself. Whether it’s word/page count, deadlines or quality of what you’re creating, it’s important to keep in mind that you’re just starting and, even if you aren’t, it’s a first draft. First drafts are supposed to be just that---the very first time you write down your idea. It’s supposed to be a rough diamond that will be shaped later on into whatever you want it to be. For some people, that means write it once and then rewrite it entirely (I’m those people), for others it just means it’s got a main body, and then you just work what you have. It really depends. People have different methods, so no matter how much others tell you to do this way or that way, it’s your way that matters.

Keep exploring your possibilities so you’ll find your work method. Listen to other’s people’s advice only to the limit of your abilities. If you try out a method and you can feel it in your bones right off the bad it just doesn’t work for you, quit it. It’s no good forcing something you’re not on par with. Just scratch that altogether. Methods, discipline, plotting---that varies from person to person and I detest when others say there is a right or wrong way to do things. There isn’t.

As for plotting, there are several ways to go about it---but take this with a grain of salt. I never followed a single method until I found out there are names for this shit. What I do is called a zero draft, or the Direct Writing Process. Word vomit onto paper, in other words. I have an idea, I think about it for a while and just pour it out. I personally work very well with freewriting and improvisation. I am a pantser---that means I don’t plot, I just define my characters, my conflict, my goal, some plot points and go on instinct. Most of the times, other plot points emerge as I write. They just pop up in the process. Other people can be plotters: they plot the whole thing down to the detail. Those are more likely to use methods like the snowflake method, or the 3 Act Method (I personally hate the 3 Act method. I think it’s super limited and most stories these day’s don’t necessarily follow a 3 act structure, but a structuralized (around 5 acts, if you will) plot that has inciting incident (the thing that sets the story off), plot points (the things that push the plot forward), plot twist (NOT necessary in a story, and I hate that we’re in a day and age that’s convinced people that a story MUST have a plot twist---it really doesn’t. Sometimes being predictable is good), and a conclusion. The 3 Act thing is mostly used in cinema, from what I learned).

(Keep in mind there are other methods, these are just the ones whose names I remember)

Pick up books within the genre you’d like to explore and read a lot. Now, I know, this is that sort of shit people just love telling new writers as the number one advice, but I think what lacks is telling people ways of how to read when you’re a writer. So here is how I do it:

I mark pages that have passages that I want to go back to, underline sentences that inspired me and make mental notes of literary devices and word combos that are new and useful to me. The reason why it’s so important to read a lot when you want to write is to submerge yourself in the millions of styles out there in order to find your voice. Re-read passages that make you go ‘shit, that was really good!’ and let yourself be submerged by it. Disconnect from the world if you have to. Re-read the books that have inspired you. When you finish a book you loved, ask yourself why you loved it---take notes, even. Just write down the things you enjoyed, make little essays for yourself. It’s not just that reading a lot helps when you want to write, you gotta THINK about what you read. For youself (USE YOUR DIARY :D).

And on that account, and I am dead serious here, read bad shit. I mean it. Read the worst possible book you can find. You’re going to read a lot of advice saying ‘you shouldn’t do this when you write’, and I’ll tell you right off the bat that I HATE ‘should-and-shouldn’t-dos’ advice for writers. You’ll read that fragmented sentences and heavy thick paragraphs are a bad thing because it wears out the reader, then you pick up Donna Tartt and realize she does that A LOT. So why does she get away with it? Because she’s good at it. The advice should always be ‘do it well’, not ‘don’t do it at all’ (generally speaking, do not trust someone who tells you there are other rules to writing besides grammatical).

But the bad books? Bruh they’re a perfect guide to How Not To Do Things because, contrary to Mister White Male Pulitzer spreading advice on Literary Hub, those books actually show you why it doesn’t work. And by showing you how it doesn’t work, you get an idea of ONE WAY it shouldn’t be done. So while Donna Tartt is great at heavy, thick paragraphs, you pick up fucking Eragon and get the gist of just one way it won’t work: when it forces you to pick up a thesaurus and basically search for every other word in there.

Then, of course, practice. By practicing, I mean---do whatever the crap you want. I cannot express enough how much I want every knew writer out there to cover their ears and go BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH every time someone tries to tell them what they should and shouldn’t do, because when you’re starting, it’s REALLY IMPORTANT that you just go out of boundaries as best as you can. You learn from your mistakes. But you gotta know why they’re mistakes. No one learns a damn thing by being told ‘this is bad’. You gotta see it for yourself. You gotta feel it. You gotta experiment. Because it might just happen that one day, it won’t be bad. And that will mean you will have found a way of reverted a rule---and that in itself means you’re finding your own voice.

So keep experimenting. I’m serious. Don’t be afraid of trying out. Never wrote Sci-fi? Fuck it. Try it out even without reading a book---it’s for yourself, get into the mood and do what you please. Never tried poetry? Go ahead. Be wacky about it. Make it visual, fuck rhyming and do what you please. Want to write a thing that’s historical but haven’t researched that bit of history? Experiment all the same. Go back and forth between your reading and your writing (one thing I do a lot is put the book I’m reading down for a second to go write something because I got so inspired by what I’m reading. If that happens to you, my advice is---bruh let it out. Don’t tame it. Don’t put a lid on it. FLOURISH).

There’s one thing I like telling people: there is no such thing as a bad idea, there are only ideas that need working.

I repeat: no such thing as a bad idea.

You really wanna write something that just came up to you but you’re thinking ‘I’m afraid this is too cliché’? Fuck that. For the love of God, AVOID thinking about the word cliché at all times. Clichés aren’t bad, they’re only bad when they aren’t worked properly. And there’s a reason they exist---people like them. So, let’s swipe that away right now and focus on what’s important: you have an idea, and you want to work it. But something feels off. That just means you need to rethink some concepts, NOT that the idea itself is bad.

Keep in mind that, sometimes, a story takes time to mature. It might mean you’re too young to write it (the one I have on wattpad that’s a first draft btw, Best of Times, I had the idea at 18, but it’s very political and I was Clueless (TM), I had to wait until I matured). Be patient and kind to yourself---you need time, and with you, so does your story. Don’t force anything out, cause a lemon can only squeeze so much juice. Leave a WIP unfinished if you have to, and jump to another one to clear your head---there is absolutely no problem with that (boy do I do that).

With that in mind: Sometimes, walking away from a WIP is a good thing.

Now, as for expressing yourself: as I mentioned above, reading a lot might help. But here’s the thing. Expressing yourself doesn’t come from reading and understanding literature, it comes from yourself. Read a lot and take notes, pay attention to literary devices, ESPECIALLY pay attention to how certain writers break rules. But then, work yourself out.

See, bruh. Work your vision. Look at the world around you. You know how they say a musician is good when they develop good earing? A writer is good when they learn how to see, to see into the world around them in their own way. Listen to the people around you, enjoy the little things in life, observe life’s intervals. Actually, on this aspect let me recommend a book: Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli. It’s a YA I think, very small and it was the one book I read when I was 13 that changed my life. It’s also a life-lesson for writers on the matter of ‘how to make the cliché absolutely beautiful’ and ‘how to grab a plot that’s been overdone and make it special’. Here is a synopsis.

So, all in all, I would say: read, experiment, see and practice. Search for your inner voice. Don’t EVER throw away an idea.

HAPPY WRITINGS, ANON

#Anonymous

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ryo-maybe · 5 years

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Hey Ryo, could I ask for some writing advice? I'm currently stuck writing out a chapter of a fic, and in general planning a further piece of literature, but I can't actually write any of it. Writer's block is just kicking my ass, so anything that could help would be really cool.

Ah, the good ol’ nemesis of every wordmonger, the Writer’s Block. This is the tricky sort of question you could ask to a hundred different people and receive a thousand different replies to. The single most effective piece of advice I can give you, before segueing with more subjective suggestions: find what works for you. Experiment. Writing is a continuous effort to seek innovation within familiar grounds, and that extends even beyond the act of typing/inking itself. Recall the days when you weren’t able to stay your hand from jutting down paragraphs like it was nobody’s business. Had you done anything particular, around that timeframe? Sometimes, we may well be unaware that we were the best possible reference we could have been searched for!

With that out of the way, let’s get personal. My own inspiration is a fickle mistress, so take any and all advice I dole out on the subject with a grain of salt. Now, your physical and mental conditions shouldn’t be underestimated, and in fact they ought to be prioritized over anything else. “Yeah okay Ryo?,” I might already be hearing your rambunctious early 2000′s teenager lips purse to pronounce, “I didn’t come here asking you to remind me to drink water and stay healthy, I want WORDS. I WANT THEM NOW.” Alright, calm down, imaginary bucko, lemme explain! Your brain is the engine wherein love and the magic of words are stored, and that engine needs to be in prime condition to properly rev up. I remember spending several days frustrated by my inability to type more than two words without grimacing, wondering what was up while I juggled my focus between the keyboard and adjusting the toothpicks I’d shoved under my eyelids to keep myself from passing out. I’m about to dip deep into my well of hypocrisy here because I’m typing this after waking up from an unplanned afternoon nap, but: keep a healthy sleeping schedule. You will be flabbergasted by how such a simple thing can do wonders to improve your inspiration and general outlook on life. The ability to process colors and stop hearing the furniture whisper sweet nothings at the peak of sleeplessness are welcome additions, I’d say.

Onto more direct procedures now. Understand what it is that you want to write, the context, the mood, the ideal “genre” within which you would frame it, if you are the kind of person to use that as a frame of reference. Make yourself aware of the parts that are solid blocks of imagination-fueled fiction: they will be the keystones upon which to build the foundation of your chapter/segment/whatever you wanna call it. Is one of these “keystones” the part where you would ideally begin your piece? Make typing that baby down your first and foremost priority. Oftentimes, all it might take may be a bit of bruteforcing at the starting point, writing and deleting sentence by sentence, until, like sputtering car pushed down a hill, your mind will begin to clear and engage Full Writing Throttle before you can realize it. The first hurdle is the hardest to overcome, but the easiest to leave behind!

If you’re still hung on it despite several attempts, or if the beginning of the piece isn’t among the portions you have figured out yet, try with a simple yet effective brainstorming session, fueled by the sheer power of logic. If character X goes to place Y and performs a German Suplex on villain Z, then in the next paragraph, what of several possibilities could be realized? Explore all the different branches that could sprout from the seed of your narrative and keep pruning until you are left with the ones you like the most, bias be damned. When contained within their beginning and end, if you figured out said scenes, then you have most of the work cut out for you, because it means you will be limited in the scope of your possibilities and thus be less liable to become lost in the process of figuring out the route leading from one to the other.

Help yourself with some prime cutlet of external inspiration. Watch a movie, series (or favorite episode of one), or read a book, comic or visual novel, or listen to a song which pertain to the mood and genre of your piece. Look up pictures/fanart (my personal favorite choice!). We humans are amazing at plasmating pre-existing process into our very own thing. Do not be fearful of imitation or lack of originality, instead go with the assumption that every idea has likely been explored already - but to put the building blocks in a different order? That is the beauty of creativity. Collect ideas and reshape them to suit your needs. Strip them bare of their superfluous skin and keep whatever pulpy juices suit your creative needs. Use other people’s imagination as a springboard to make yours soar all the higher (or, well, at all).

But, above all else: experiment. Test new methods. Seek novelty. You are bound to hit jackpot eventually, and let loose the rivers of ink you so thirstily long for.

#paragon-arthur

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ac-ars · 6 years

Text

high for this

it’s been less than a year this time, less than two weeks actually and it’s a success im sure we all can agree lmao

have fun

Luna Valente doesn’t expect much fun when she gets accepted to the University of Oxford, but it’s the only way to stay away from her controlling aunt. She doesn’t expect also Matteo Balsano, who is the most helpful out of everyone there. Is he really as perfect as it seems though?

previous chapters here

🌙

2/ you there when I'm high, you're gone when I'm low

“So, how was the date with Balsano?” Ambar asks almost carelessly, but Luna knows already that it’s just a tone the blonde uses always, when she is pretending to not be curious. Valente sighs slightly and shrugs. “There was no date, plus it wouldn’t be a date if he showed up.”

Smith scrunches up her nose. “What do you mean?” Her shoulder hits some guy’s arm and she just keeps walking, making Luna wonder if she ever at least tries to be nice.

“I mean that he was supposed to come over, but he texted me that he had last minute student council meeting. You know that, you were there after all, right?”

Ambar looks at her weirdly, as if confused, but it’s just for a mere second and this expression disappears, leaving its blace for blank, bored stare. “Yeah, yeah, sure. It was super bad. You know, schedule changes and such.”

Luna nods slowly, smiling a little in her direction and Ambar makes awkward face. “I gotta go. I will see you somewhere later though, good luck on class and well whatever.”

With this she disappears in the middle of the hallway and Luna just looks after her as she is walking quickly, somehow too quickly for Ambar to be casual, but it’s not like the brunette can do anything right now. She just turns away checking the texts from the girls who are probably already waiting for her.

The hallways are filled with students, most of them is older than her and she is kinda awkward, not sure what to do. Some are looking at her, yet definitely more is ignoring her passing by and that’s amazing thing, because now she doesn’t need to try to run towards the exit or something.

At least the day is pretty, the sun blinds Luna as soon as she leaves the building and she needs to quickly search for her sunglasses. They aren’t in her backpack, which isn’t really surprising. After all recently it has been only sad and grey and sometimes even rainy, so there was no need for such thing like sunglasses. She sighs with disappointment and looks around for her friends, letting out small, heavy sigh seeing that Jim and Yam adopted Nina as well today.

Luna just approaches them without saying anything and sits on the grass next to the blonde, as quiet as possible. Nina seems to be super focused on the big, fat book that is lying in front of her on the grass and Jim is eating her fruits from breakfast box using a fork. Luna rolls her eyes seeing this and just pulls out bio book and her earphones, because the next class there can be some surprise like quiz or test, no one ever knows really.

Sadly, as soon as she turns on some random Abba song, someone hits her on the shoulder and says her name loudly. Luna growls, putting her phone in between the bio book pages and turns to Yam, who looks at her expecting.

“What?” she asks and it might be rude, but that’s how they talk to each other mostly, which is mostly funny.

“I was asking you. Where is your prince charming?” The blonde shrugs as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Luna wonders if it’s their only topic to talk about. Matteo this, Matteo that, just like they weren’t in fancy uni with many, many older boys to talk about, or some hot profs, no, they are just stuck gossipping about one boy, who has been such a hot and cold pain in the ass, that Luna before her period needs to stay away from him.

“I don’t know. He seems to have some other stuff to do.”

Yam shrugs scrunching her nose and steals an apple slice from Jim’s box.

“He is probs busy with Gastón.” Nina says as she turns the page of this really ugly book, and just focuses on the text again. Jim and Yam jump to her, the ginger actually falls to Simonetti’s back and they start giggling loudly with the rest.

Luna sighs fixing the laces to her converse as she takes them around her ankle playfully and ties normally, it makes her feel less fancy than everything else plus it’s not like she is trying to be actually fancy. She also isn’t an aesthetic university girl like Nina for example.

“Luna, maybe you know what happened?”

The Mexican growls, falling to the grass and covers her face with bio book, which smells like dust by the way. “What would I know? Sorry, but I don’t talk to Matteo about his friendship issues.”

She knows it wasn’t the best thing to answer, especially seeing how even Nina raises her eyebrows. Jim and Yam jump surprised and just steal Luna’s precious book, hovering over her so their hairs tickle Luna’s nose. “Then what are you two talking about?” With this the ginger turns to her chihuahua bestie and winks. “Maybe they aren’t talking at all, though?”

They burst out with laughter and Valente just blinks at them surprised, not knowing what to do with this thing. This whole situation is completely ridiculous, because the girls don’t shut up, but also she has no idea what the hell is Matteo pulling on her, disappearing right before they were supposed to meet.

She doesn’t like it, she very doesn’t, she will tell him about how shitty he is acting, and that if he really will expect her to be normal next time, he will probably end up disappointed. Yet, at the same time it’s not like they are something else than just kinda friends, not even fully friends so Luna can’t think he will be always there and text her. Still, some other text than the short one he sent would be nice, and maybe sending another with other date of their meeting, but nah, why would he even try?

“You feel eh, don’t you?” Jim asks with small frown and Luna shrugs, not really saying anything.

“We are taking you to the lunch by the way, so get your small butt up and let us pay for your pizza.”

🌙

They are really paying for her food, and Luna can’t say no, and doesn’t wanna say no since it gives her the chance to pay for some of them next time, or even later. They somehow talk about dumb shit, trying to set her up with hot waiter who asks for their orders and this is definitely something finally normal. They haven’t done normal for a few long days, so she is really grateful for them to take her head away from bad ideas and bad thoughts and general annoyance that keeps bubbling in the back of her head whenever someone mentions Matteo Balsano.

Sadly, it’s not like she is interested in this pretty boy who gives them some discount, she keeps having the smile of one Italian on her mind, how he likes to wink at her and send her tiny smirk whenever he wins some playful conversation. How he just acts, making her like him for just existing and this is very dangerous ability.

Luna obviously takes part in the conversation surprisingly, despite almost twins gushing about some dance classes they found next to the campus, Nina interrupting them with some new drama informations about how girls from her literature class kept gossiping that Matteo and his best friend had a fight, or at least a drama recently.

She remembers how when on the airport Matteo was all smiling and laughing at the screen of his phone, saying that it was his best friend spamming him already. Now when she thinks of it, it’s all kinds of weird that he hasn’t mentioned this guy even once and that something must have happened. Yet, she doesn’t feel like she has any right to ask or mix herself in Matteo’s business.

It’s time to make them stop talking so loudly that other people are sending them annoyed looks, so Luna sighs and asks. “What are we doing tonight?”

They immediately shut up and stare at her very seriously. “We are going to have very much fun, Luna Valente. We are going to drink alcohol and dance, and sing very loudly, and you are going with us.” Yam says very casually with straight face and stable voice.

“But tomorrow we all have classes? Are you okay?”

Jim rolls her eyes and moves to Luna so close, she almost ends up on her lap. “We are okay, that’s just part of being a student not at home, so we will make you be less boring tonight.”

“I am not boring, I just don't feel like drinking my ass off in the uni night, that's all,” she says with a shrug and Jim and Yam share knowing look.

“That's exactly why you should go and chill, you deserve all chill, Luna and we don't want you to end up blackout, just to relax and dance. Don't you like dancing?”

Valente sighs with a pout and wonders why she is so bad at saying no.

🌙

“Could you please already stop touching my hair?” Luna asks when Nina pulls single strand while braiding this fancy thing on Luna's head.

“I'm sorry, it's just because there is so much of your hair around it just tangles around my fingers,” the Argentine girl explains and shrugs a little.

The brunette hums, trying to not wince every time she feels a pull on her head, and it’s not that hard, because Nina is trying to be softer now. “You aren’t going with us, are you?” she asks and Simonetti smiles. “Of course not. I have some writing to do still and I promised my dad I would skype with him tonight. But I hope you girls have fun.”

Luna looks at her in the mirror and blinks surprised a little, yet trying to hide it. “Won’t you tell me now that we all should study and focus on classes?”

“No, because you don’t like it. And you are adult, Luna, you decide about it yourself.”

“What? How do you know that I don’t like it?” she asks surprised, and now she feels all kinds of dumb, and rude, and mean person.

Nina shakes her head slightly with tiny smile. “Once I told Jim to study and she told me to stop telling people what to do, everyone is adult here, and I guess I was just sure that it’s help, not annoying. Anyway I hope you have fun.”

Luna smiles back, happy about this one step towards being better with everyone, and wants to say something, but Jim and Yam jump into the room laughing loudly and having something glittery in their hands. Valente gasps, fully knowing what this means.

“We got you a dress!” the blonde yells and Luna feels how her blood leaves her face, this fabric is definitely too much, probably too short, glitter isn’t that much of a problem, but the rest will most likely be. “Come on, go and try it, and then you will do some makeup, because I’ve seen some on your instagram account and you are good at this.” Jim smiles and pulls Luna up from the chair before pushing her in the bathroom along with the dress, and again, she should definitely read about being assertive.

🌙

Those colorful little shots are so pretty, the more she takes, the better they get, and at this point the glittery dress is biting her skin less and less. The music is loud, yes, but it’s the nice kind of music, Luna likes it and the only breaks are to drink a little more. She knows that this was her last one shot, sadly, still it’s okay; she can have fun without any more alcohol and then go back home and go to sleep, praying for no hangover in the very next day.

She doesn’t talk or dance to anyone except her two friends, they seem to be glad about that, but at the same time they keep pointing at some boys in the crowd. None of them seems to be a good one, but let’s be real, who would search for a boy to date in the club filled with alcohol and bass sounds that can be felt in bones.

Luna adores dancing to be honest, no matter if it’s dancing around her dorm while cleaning, or dancing like here in the club. She just loves it, loves to move and jump with the rhythm while her hair is softly bouncing around, tickling the skin of her back and shoulders and the fact that the more they dance, the more she can drink.

It’s almost an hour after midnight, and Luna doesn’t feel sleepy or tired one bit, which is very dangerous in her case, but classes are later in the day, so she will let herself sleep longer. Jim and Yam keep spinning around and making sure they all don’t leave each other and lose in between people. Luna sighs, because she felt some elbow in her ribs, or someone stomping on her toes, she guesses it’s time for a break so she yells to the girls it, trying to break through the newest remix of some famous song.

She gets to the small table breathing quickly, and leans against it with her elbows. Her phone buzzes, so she checks it after brushing her hair away from her face. It’s just some notification from insta, Simon sent her a text, but she can’t focus on it when there is orange-pink circle around Matteo’s profile pic waiting for Luna to tap it and watch. It takes much strength to ignore it and block the phone before throwing a look around. Too many people, weird people wearing all kinds of clothes in all possible colors, and then she spots this guy wearing all black by the bar, and Luna can swear she loses her breath.

He is smiling smug at this girl in green dress, even shorter than it should be allowed, but neither of them seems to care. This girl’s face Luna can’t see, she just notices how Matteo looks at her and even if it’s very bad look, she doesn’t focus on it, staring at the way this black shirt is staying on his shoulders, not too tightly, yet it seems like there is no extra fabric there. How first few buttons are undone, and how the sleeves are rolled up, not to mention those black pants, having Luna have all issues possible.

He takes the girl’s hair behind her ear wearing this small smirk before brushing her collarbone and arm with his fingers. Luna can almost feel the trembling of the girl with black hair that is very focused on Matteo Balsano, and having him all focused on her, and Luna has no idea, but she hates it. She hates that he is here acting completely normal, living normal as he always is, after he just threw her random text about sorry, not coming over, and then leaving her waiting again. Luna hates it, hates him and this girl, and the alcohol for making her feel this way, and she also hates herself. For wanting him to look at her.

Now she feels like she needs to drink more and regrets not doing it earlier. Though, who knows what would she have done with more alcohol in her blood. She stares at him most likely too long, at least long enough for him to catch her eyes for a second, and Luna can’t say what he will do now, because she turns away, looking at her phone screen intently and hoping that Cancun beach homescreen pic will teleport her there so she won’t have to handle this boy.

“Now I feel kinda sad here.” Luna hears by her ear, the voice obviously low and soft, and her drunk ear takes it eagerly and shivers climb up her spine. “Come on, sweet thing, talk to me.”

“And why would I?” She pouts raising her eyebrows at him, while he just smiles at her. “I’m sorry for not letting you know earlier about not coming to see you. And I’m sorry I haven’t texted you since then.”

This is all kinds of weird and Luna wonders what he wants this time. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you have to. We aren’t anything that would oblige you to explain yourself.”

Matteo hums, moving closer. “But I am not explaining myself. I’m just saying sorry because I haven’t done things that I should have, of course. And I’m here willing to make it up to you, if you want of course.”

“I mean, you don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.” The brunette shrugs turning away.

“But I want to,” he murmurs and she can feel his breathing on her shoulder, she knows he is doing the exact same thing he was doing to the other girl minutes ago, yet this feels too good to pull away. This small feeling of excitement builds in her and she likes how it tickles her from inside.

Still, she decides to play with him a little. “Yes, but you were busy, Matteo.”

He chuckles and rests his hands on her waist, before turning her to him and leaning against the edge of the table. “I am not busy anymore. I am free for the rest of the night actually.”

Luna bites on her lower lip, taking all his attention to it. “From what I know, we are always free, that’s a human right, no?” She asks with a small giggle and Matteo shakes his head, leaning closer.

She wants him closer, but obviously she doesn’t get it, that’s how life hates her- once she wants to get something, once, and Jimena just hits the something from the side, which makes Matteo pull away and stand a little away from them.

“What are you doing, Luna? It was girls night, she says with accusing tone and her blonde bestie who follows her just points at Matteo. “I’m sure we should let Luna do what she was doing, or almost doing, before, Jim.”

Balsano snorts and Luna can feel herself giggling. “Yes, this was a girls night, did you hear it Matteo?”

The ginger looks at Luna’s companion she bumped seconds ago, and now she is shook, because there he is the boy she’s been gossipping about for long, long days, or that’s what Luna thinks is the reason of big eyes her friend makes at Matteo.

She spots Yam turning towards the bar, and then away from the bar so she can put the shot glasses on the table, and when Luna reaches for her immediately, because well her sanity definitely needs that, some hand takes it faster and in a second that’s it from her shot.

“It was mine? Who the hell do you think you are?” The brunette asks, completely surprised, because why the fuck would Balsano steal her shots.

“I think, that it’s time for us to go home,” he just states, ignoring her angry glare and loud questions. Luna huffs and crosses her arms. “I don’t wanna go home. Besides, I am not going to leave my friends here.”

The Italian nods. “Well, then we are going to walk them first, but then we go to your dorm so you get home safe and no one steals you on the way.”

Luna is very lost at this moment, she doesn’t get this boy one bit. First he is undressing some girl by the bar with his eyes, then he does the same with her, but using his voice and now he changed into group father who is gonna make sure everyone has no fun. Still, the look he is giving them now makes Luna just give up, she turns to the girls and sighs. “Are we going then? This one is gonna be super whiny I believe.”

“Okay I guess, but next weekend we are gonna stay looooonger.” The ginger pouts and Luna giggles. “Fine, can be.”

“No, you must promise, Luna Valente.” She takes up her pinky and the brunette just takes it with hers, nodding few times until her friend is happy. Her eyes walk towards Matteo who just sends her a wink and she wonders why would he try to send her home already. Or more like walk her home. And why would she agree.

🌙

It’s cold when they are walking towards Luna’s place, cold enough for her to start shivering and cold enough for her to accept Matteo’s arm around her shoulders, because he is warm and she would take everything that is warm. The girls are already in their room, since they live together, and Luna can walk calmly knowing that they are safe, most likely sleeping, and if not they always have the other to hold their hair in case of throwing up.

Matteo isn’t talking much, she isn’t either and it’s okay. Her heels are hitting the hard bricks of the sidewalk and except their breathing this is the only sound Luna can hear, which is nice. She feels that when he isn’t talking she is the least exposed to any harm from his side, he is just comfy and warm, and smells so nice, not with alcohol and when they will get to her place, Luna is sure he will let her go and won’t try to get in touch for next few days.

She sighs heavily and yawns, hearing his tiny chuckle and she guesses she can break the silence for a moment. “What’s so funny?” she just asks and he looks at her before sending her a smile. “Few moments ago you were all about staying in that club longer, and now you are like sleepy, little kitten.”

Luna huffs, it’s not that being compared to a kitten is a bad thing, but he is clearly making fun of her and her drunk self doesn’t like it. Actually she feels drunk only in the moments when she looks at his face.

“I’m sleepy because you are boring, Matteo.”

He raises his eyebrows at her and she giggles shaking her head. Italian gasps at this and pokes her on the ribs so she jumps a little. “I am not boring, it’s not my fault that you decided to have crazy night after waking up in the morning probably around eight am.”

Luna bites on her lower lip thinking, trying to remind herself when she did wake up, but since she can’t at this moment, she just ignores his comment.

There is again, a little quiet minute until it’s his turn to ruin it. “Why didn’t you take a jacket?”

“Why didn’t you?” Luna answers with a question and he sighs done. “Because I am not cold. Now you tell me.”

She pouts moving a little closer to him, hoping that he won’t mention it. “I forgot to take it.”

“Well, so we better hurry up.”

The brunette nods agreeing; she wants to be home as soon as possible, take off this uncomfy shoes and dress, spend few years under the shower and sleep for the rest of the night. To speed up the walking she tries to play with the one stone by kicking it away and when she walks to it again, she just kicks it again. Once it goes to the left, more towards Matteo’s feet which makes Luna pout, yet he surprises her by kicking it so she can continue.

He pretends that it didn’t happen and the brunette pretends she doesn’t see the look he is sending her.

🌙

“It’s a nice building,” he murmurs when they get to the door of her dorm. Luna looks around the hallway and she can’t really see anything nice here, it’s just normal, but she guesses Matteo was trying to make the conversation with the least awkward start.

“Well, you could have seen it earlier.” Luna shrugs and he smiles leaning his back against the entrance door so she can’t really get in or even try to put the key in the lock. “Let me in, Matteo.”

“Why were you so annoyed at me today?” he asks instead and she frowns. “And why do you care?”

Matteo crosses his arms and she does the same, which probably looks ridiculously funny. “Because I don’t want you to be angry at me, sweet thing.”

“How would I be angry with you, if you don’t even talk to me?” The brunette hums and Balsano nods slightly, thinking probably about something important or not important. She has no idea exactly, but this scrunched nose of his is kinda cute and she likes it, his lashes are throwing some shade at his cheeks, definitely unfair that his lashes are so long. She stares at him just like he stares at her and it’s the weirdest moment between them ever.

“I’m sorry,” he says and she blinks surprised. “I will be talking to you now.”

“You know that it sounds super weird? Plus you don’t have to, Matteo. I get it, I just don’t want you to tell you would do something and then text me last minute, that sorry, but you can’t be there and then ignore me for few days. It’s fine, just stop.”

Matteo looks at her carefully. “Stop what?”

“Stop trying to be nice. Because it’s not really working for either of us.”

He smiles a little, which is ridiculous for Luna, so she doesn’t manage to react quickly enough when he reaches for her hand and pulls her close to his chest. She blinks surprised, looking into his eyes, he brushes her hair behind her ear softly and sighs. “Will you let me try once again? Let me and it will be fine, I’m sure of it.”

The brunette opens her mouth to say something, but he stops her. “Don’t tell me now, I’m sure your drunk self needs more time to make decisions, not to mention drunk choices are always bad for us. Let me know later, though. I will be waiting.”

She sighs with a tiny nod, barely moving and Matteo kisses her forehead before leaving. She can only watch him heading towards the elevator without turning away as she has two things on her mind. First, did he mean himself or her when he talked about deciding about stuff while drunk. Second, he never promised her anything and this she should remember.

Luna shakes her head and gets into her dorm, fully knowing that today to sleep she will listen to the song he sent her in the plane on repeat.

#soy luna #lutteo #hft #my writing

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aiden-gd · 2 years

Text

Chapter III

(warning:grammar mistakes, nothing else)

Two days have passed after meeting him. Well, he's a big guy now. He's been to places I've never been before. No way, someone like him would call me. Even if he wanted to consider it bc I was his close friend in high school, there's no way he'd find the time for someone like me.

I took a sip of the coffee I had. It's bitter. Ofc it'd be bitter. What did I even expect?

Alphabets/ letters/ poems/ short stories/ drabbles/ articles/ biographies/ manuals/

Books/ Novels/ Journals/

Language/ Literature/

Subject/

Darkness/ Domain/ Despair/ Depression/ Dominance/ Dictatorship/ Destruction/ Denial/ Desperation/ Down/

Me/ My/ Myself/ Mine/

Mine?/

/Empty/...

emptiness\ void\...

I was scribbling my usual and I realized a new thing yet again.

I have nothing...to call my own. Well I can't say a 'thing', I do have a lot of stuffs I bought with my own money. It's just, I wanna have someone as mine too. I wonder if I'm being greedy. But I can't help. I want to be in love. Again. But genuine love this time tho.

Not like the unrequited love, or one sided relationship like I've had until now. Just mutual. Mutual feelings. I'd even love it more if they feel more about me than I do. But I doubt I'd ever get it. Because as much as I want it, I fear it too much. I don't even deserve it , hell I ignore people's feelings all day. The amount of texts and calls in this phone, after one night stands. Well half of it is their fault for not understanding how "one night stands" work. But I can't help feel guilty.

Its crazy how my desires contradict my fears.

Now, colours//.

Brown.....shade, it's warm no matter what. It's disgusting sometimes when I think more about it than I should lol. But rather than that, if we think about the shade only, it's warm. And for someone as who's a naturally cool person, (pun not intended) I guess I just prefer it as one of my favorite. Anyone can see it if they barge into my room. Or they'll just think I have an odd sense of taste for my age. Or maybe not, since I'm already 30, I'm at least old enough to like it? Don't I?

I closed my book, unable to focus properly on what to write for my next article. I couldn't concentrate even tho nothing that bad happened lately. Perhaps, I'm disappointed that he didn't call. But I don't understand why he would again.

Right then, my phone started buzzing, an unknown number.. could it be?

I pick up when my ring was about to end, subconsciously playing hard to get. But I didn't say anything. I was waiting for the other side to speak in case if it was the someone I expected.

"Hello." It's a familiar voice yet. I let a soft sigh.

....What did I even expect?

"You finally answered my call. Perhaps were you expecting a call from someone else? There's no way you'd pick up a random call."

"Uhh how are you? I heard you're working hard on your new book..."

(Pause)

I didn't speak anything. I couldn't. And I didn't want to anyway. I might as well just end the call.

"Don't cut it. Please..give me a chance to explain."

I don't get why my neck and chest throbs when he says those words. I don't even miss this guy like I used to. Tbh I'm completely over him. It's been almost 2 months we last had a proper conversation and I've been ignoring his calls since then. I can't forgive him for what he did, but when when someone begs..... you, you can't help but empathize them.

" I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now and I deserve that kind of reaction from you too. but please, I want you to listen at least just this once....

I know I.... I made a big mistake. I was a dick . I messed up. Big time. Yes, I told you to leave and yes, (sighh) I slept with someone else that night, I was crazy to do such thing after I started the fight itself. But I was too stressed out from work,.... that didn't mean that I can use it as an excuse...but

Hell, I'm sorry.

That's the only thing I can say right now. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean anything I said that day and I'll change. I'll be better. Please, please give me one last chance so that I.....I can prove it to you. And I..... I miss you so much, Sora.. Please forgive me this once more. I promise I'll be better...."

Fresh tears came out of my eyes. Idk? I was over him, I know but i could never get over how he betrayed me. Finding my lover having sex on our bed with someone not me, and witnessing it after he said he needed some space. It wasn't a good experience at all.

"Sora. I-"

"I'm sorry I have some work to do. I have to go. "

"No, just 2 more-"

I sat down bitterly. I cut the phone call. I look at my tear stained papers. Ugh I feel pathetic. After that my phone rang like three times more, until it lied completely silent again. I decided I should sleep. I can't help it other than to sleep it off. One more call, and I think I'll lose my patience. Anyone can tell me why can't I just block him, but at this rate it's useless. He's someone who'd use all the numbers in the world to get me to pick up. The first few weeks after break up, I had to change my number. And it's hectic to change my number again and again since these days, my whole source of almost everything is connected to my number. And I don't want to run for it again.

Hah, at some point, I wish I had disappeared from this world. It always seem like my life... is only a black and white theme, as aesthetic as it sounds, it doesn't feel good. I'm merely surviving. And I ain't like the sky, I can't seem to pull silence right after the rained. It almost seems like there's no peace after the storm in my life or I can relate more to a peace before the storm. So as much as I've grown, I might have gotten used to breaking down as well.

Ahh.. it burns, I burn,... quietly with no voice of my own to scream my scorching pain away. I start to treat it as a normal feeling at some point. And if I don't, I convince myself, I will someday, get used to it. Only memories occupy my head these days, as I look into my scars and I stare at it. It always feel like it will rip open and start bleeding again. So I prepare myself aids before that happens and I avoid the things that once led me to have them. I build walls altho my bricks aren't even strong enough so everytime someone attacks, I still get hurt. Even tho they don't seem to notice.

I see myself sitting , crouching my knees on my face and blocking my ears and the my dad's voice starts to become louder and louder scolding me. Then I opened my eyes to my booming ringtone. Oh.

I must have had a nightmare. Damn, this person too... can't stop bothering me even at night.

I decided to answer the call, in a cold manner this time.

"Hello-"

"Stop calling me. And for fuck's sake , I just started to sleep. I need to go to work tomorrow and I need my fucking rest."

"Oh" I felt something bad about how I answered.

"I'm sorry, Sou. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was so busy lately, like I'm in the States rn, there's clear daylight here so I might have forgotten about the how it works there . Well, I'm sorry I didn't think about it. "

Who tf is this? Is this another kid from the club I slept with.

Fuck-. was it not him? The states? Who'd call me from the states?

The states, hmm. Wait, The States?! Don't tell me-

"Emm, Sorry for rambling, I'm sorry I'll call you in the morning,that is, if you still want to-"

"Ryu!!?"

" Hmm.??"

...........Oh God,it IS him. ......Oh My Gawd. What did I just do? Oh Gawd..

Fuck. Goddammmit, I deserve to eat shit at this point.

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creatorofculture · 3 years

Text

Psychological Safety, Problem Solving, and Ownership? Just the Tip of the Iceberg! A Conversation With Bryant Vitanza.

https://youtu.be/OK3KfUg-_gg Creator of Culture: Welcome, to the Creator of Culture podcast. It's great to have you here. Bryant Vitanza: Thanks for having me. Creator of Culture: It's my pleasure. We have a lot, actually, three really great topics to be discussed tonight, we'll see if we can get to all of them, we... Before we get in and dive in, feet first, tell me a little bit about you... Why are you passionate about this? What does culture mean to you? And anything else you wanna discuss? Bryant Vitanza: Definitely. So obviously, we've been talking about this type of stuff ever since I met you for I guess four years back now, but it's something as I've stepped through my career, spending a lot of time in the transformation... Large scale change space, I've realized a lot of the root causes are not due to technology limitations or not due to process, it's mostly around the people, and at the end of the day, when you think about the people in organization, everyone always says that the number one asset of an organization, but when you actually look at how an organization provides a space for those people to excel and to work at their best, that kinda gets into that culture Real, which in essence is the soul of an organization. It is one thing that you can't...You can't see it, but you know it's there, and you know when it's working for you and you know, and it's not working for you. And a lot of organizations struggle with this culture where they do don't wanna change the culture 'cause it's what makes them unique, or that's their kind of bread and butter in terms of being able to drive innovation, what they don't realize is you have to continuously re-evaluate that, see what aspects of the culture do you want to retain and what aspects do you need to start to shed for whatever reason. And so as I've stepped through my career, I've seen time and time again how organizations have blinders on and they don't really recognize that their culture is actually limiting the innovation, they're not providing a safe space for their employees, that psychological safety, that's allowing their employees to really... Work and grow at a much higher potential in the organization, so I'm really passionate about helping organizations to understand why this is something from diversity of perspective, understanding all the different perspectives, why competencies are no longer in silos, but you actually need to be able to cut across competencies and be cross-functional and your understanding of the organization, how it runs, what you do, and so I'm really excited to talk about these topics, 'cause this is something that we've... Is talked about quite a bit, and I really enjoy... I really enjoy talking about it, so yeah. Creator Of Culture: For sure. The material out there is great, I think it needs to be unpacked a little bit further, there's still a stigma around culture and there's often saying that, "I sense it, I can feel it, but sometimes it's hard to label and define", so through this project, Creator of Culture, and discussions with people with experience, with stories to tell, we're looking to demystify that and basically label that feeling and label, well, I really feel that in an organization... So anyway, let's jump right into it. Bryant, you mentioned something previous about psychological safety in organizations, I wonder if you can unpack that a little bit for me and for people or listening. Bryant Vitanza: Yeah, I think to kinda pull on a thread in terms of being able to feel it, I think it's the old school mentality kind of chain of command, top-down directive of an organization where people really... We're just there to put a bunch of time clock or to do a task or to do a job, and weren't really empowered. That's kind of, I think, time and time again, is whether it's through studies or through actual results is proven not to be the most effective way to build an innovative organization. And so one of the key aspects of, I think, a modern organization is this concept of psychological safety, and then there's a lot of literature obviously about this, one of my favorite people to look at, Adam Grant talks a lot about, this is a room of books around it... But when you think about psychological safety, it's really from the top of the organization and is really important from the leadership perspective, providing people a safe space where they can make mistakes and not feel like they're gonna be reprimanded or penalized for making a mistake that they're transparent and they don't feel like they need to sweep something under the rug, and so it really gets back to the kind of humility, being able to express your feelings in a way for all the way, again, from the CEO of letting their people know, “hey, it's okay to make mistakes, I make mistakes every day. And I want to empower you to express yourself in whatever way, it's a safe space, so if you have a problem or you make a mistake, that's okay. Let's support you and help you grow.” Because that's what really drives that idea of a learning culture, this concept that what helps you do your job today, and what's got you to where you are in your career is not what's gonna get you to the next step. And every organization is very good at doing what they do today, but it's that learning culture that's gonna help them to innovate and do what they need to do 5, 10, 15 years from now to be relevant. And so the psychological safety, I think, is one of those kind of cornerstones of ensuring that you build that learning culture so you can stay relevant and continue to innovate in your organization and retain talent, people want to be empowered, they wanna feel safe in their jobs, and that kind of ties into the diversity inclusion space, which is another important topic, but it's something I think that a lot of the leaders today that I grew up in the old school of mentality, really struggle with, they have a lot of blind spots around some of those softer, what would typically are referred to a softer skills, emotional intelligence type of thing, so I think it's a challenge for them to kind of bridge that gap into the next generation and start to really build psychological safety into the culture of the organization, if it's not already there... Creator of Culture: Now, that's a really interesting point, Bryant, about psychological safety. And a lot of things seem to basically combine to produce the safety, one is, you mentioned vulnerability and vulnerability from the CEO down. You say, “hey, it is a safer organization. I make mistakes like everybody. It's okay if you do, because our culture of what we're trying to create is something, say innovation is a priority, and to create that, it's trust, making mistakes, that safe place to learn to grow, to move beyond your comfort zone and support that”. And basically say It's okay. How does that relate to, in your opinion, to problem-solving, is this interrelated, is it overlap in a way, or is that something separate, do you think? Bryant Vitanza: I think it's very much related. Right, this is where traditionally, we grew up in education system where you focus on different subjects and you really don't learn how to express yourself or how to understand, Well, why am I feeling this way? Or, Why can't I do this? Or, how do I overcome adversity? Or if I fail, do I get back up and keep moving forward? So you're educated in mathematics, you're educated in English, you're educated and all these subjects, but at the end of the day, you get into the workforce and you realize a lot of that doesn't apply, a lot of it is just basic problems, Hobson skills, being able to connect the dots between the problem you're encountering today and how are you going to actually solve that problem? And so when you think about creating that safe space, being vulnerable, being your authentic self, which drives creativity and innovation, you need to be able to have support and feeling power to be able to problem-solve, otherwise you're gonna continue the status quo, which means if I see a problem, and it's not in my little world, it's not part of my job responsibilities, I'm just gonna look the other way and that problem is gonna stay there where if you're empowered and really owning it and feel safe and part of the team, in terms of we're all in this together, the mission, and if I help you, you're gonna help me type of thing, you can leverage your problem-solving skills to step outside of your comfort zone or step outside of your competency area and help to drive that... Whatever that problem is, or challenge to completion, and I think that's how people grow, right. I think no longer are you gonna be stuck in your competency, right, whether you're a contract professional or whether you're finance professional or an engineer, it's very rare that you can now operate just within that mode, you need to have these against softer skills to be able to... Attack these problems that we've never faced before, the environment's changing at a pretty rapid pace in terms of competition, in terms of the industries, in terms of the challenges, and so problem-solving is gonna be critical to that, but you need to have a safe space to be able to grow and operate within that. Creator of Culture: Bryant, why can't people let their guard down and be vulnerable? Is there something... It makes me think that…. is there something from your perspective, physiologically going on in our body that just is a block from doing that is letting down your guard? What's the hold up? I guess, is there a fear of doing that, are people worried about exposing too much? In your opinion, how do you get over that hump? Bryant Vitanza: Yeah, so this is a really good question. I think it's not too much of a kind of a stretch to pull the thread and realize that this is actually impact your personal life too, in terms of the vulnerability, psychological safety, being able to express yourself, and so just to tie it back to how we're brought up as children and through the education system and through college, you're rarely taught how to channel that and to understand how you're feeling... How should I express myself? And I can't speak to whether on the physiological thing, but... Do you think in terms of overcoming, it takes a lot of self-awareness and being able to look inside introspectively and say, Why am I feeling this way? or why?... Every time I step into this room, I freeze up and I don't wanna talk about something. And really unpacking that. And is it because I don't feel comfortable with the team? Is it because I'm out of my comfort zone in terms of whatever the subject matter is, and I don't feel like I add anything to the team, and once you start to kind of understand what those limitations or why you're feeling a certain way, you can start to develop tools or mechanisms for you to channel and be able to work through that, a So I've spent a lot of time understanding what those limitations are for me personally, and figuring out how can I overcome them, or how can I work around them to make sure it's not limiting me in terms of my growth potential, and I think it's different for everyone, everyone's got their own kind of reasons, but it is a lot of self-reflection to really understand what is it gonna take for me to feel psychologically safe in this environment, what is it gonna take for me to be vulnerable. And it's different for everyone. So I think the ability to express that to you, whether it's your manager or if you're working with a close team, what your comfort level is in terms of sharing, in terms of having that safe space, what kind of support you need is really important because if you can't express that other individuals working around you don't necessarily know what you need to be supported, and so it's really important to do that self-reflection and then be able to communicate and articulate it to those, especially your leadership or the peers that you work very closely with, so they can help to provide that that environment for you that can help you grow and overcome some of those limitations. Creator of Culture: That's a great piece of wisdom. What I heard was almost two parts. Bryant, one part was the process and learning how to, I guess, evaluate yourself as to why you're feeling a certain way introspect and have that ability. And a follow-up question, does it have to be taught? Some people know how to do that, it can be hard to do. And does that take a form of education or a study experience? or even having a coach to help pull that out? Second is, one feels they're capable of doing that, they're competent in that sense, is still a matter of trust on how much is disclosed, say in a workplace or a group or a community before they can start saying, "Hey, I can be my authentic self and be real without being judged?" because I realized that this place is supportive because they get it, if they're not, you'll never see someone's authentic, so I just wondered if you could speak up on those two points for a second. Bryant Vitanza: Yeah, so to the first one, I definitely think it takes... When you think of self-development type things, it takes learning to kind of be able to have that self-reflection, self-awareness, you need to be true to yourself, you can't make excuses for things, and you really need to take an honest look at yourself, and you may not always like some of the reasons. So you have to be able to unpack that. I do think there's a lot of kind of tools or ways to teach yourself, whether it's through books or things like meditation or even things like the therapy and talking to someone else, especially someone outside of either your personal life or professional life that really does not have any skin in the game, and it's just there to listen to you express things that you maybe have never expressed openly to anyone before and help you assess that, and then on top of that, there's definitely significant value in finding a mentor, again, I strongly recommend mentors outside of your core professional life that can really help impact some of that and talk to you about some of their experiences in dealing with that as well, in terms of… This is the second part, that's where the psychological safety and making sure that whether it's your community or your job, whoever is in leadership positions at the highest possible level, they are visibly vulnerable and creating that safe space. So you have some comfort that, Well, if they can do it, so can I. But it also comes to accountability from the leadership and making sure leaders at all that was the organization, whether they're informal leaders are not... Are held accountable for making sure they're creating that safe space, because the last thing you want is someone to kind of go through that self-reflection and start to be able to express themselves and bring their authentic selves to only be shut down, like you were saying, whether it's someone else pushing them to the side or judging them, because that's only gonna be that much harder for them to kind of come back out of that. And so that's... I think one of the challenges organizations have today is we speak a lot about diversity, inclusion, psychological safety, but there's not a lot of action in terms of the leaders of the organization openly expressing themselves and being vulnerable, but also holding everyone else accountable in the organization to make sure that they're creating that safe space as well.And I think that goes for any community organization or even in your professional lives, whether it's a relationship or family... Creator of Culture: That's so interesting. And it brings me to the next point that we've talked about in the past and beneficial, I think for our discussion here today, and that's if you see accountability and the concept of ownership. Now, I'm just thinking about what you just said, if someone went through all those steps to self-reflect, to learn why, to be able to turn around and express themselves only to be shot down... Not a good recipe. Imagine put yourself in that person's shoes who has had the courage to go down that road, then only to be let down... lost them forever. So... Can you talk about accountability? I know from the ownership perspective, that not only are we “talking the talk”, but “walking the walk” and backing up what we're saying. Could you explain that a little bit, and if you have an example, it doesn't have to get names and things like that, but just a general example, Bryant, maybe of something you've seen that worked or someone who backfired because there wasn't ownership... Bryant Vitanza: Yeah, no, I mean ownership and accountability go hand in hand, right, no matter... I think what you're talking about, and especially when you get into this area, a psychological safety, diversity inclusion, it's an imperative that whatever the person's role or let's focus in on kind of a leader of an organization, that they actually own it and they're holding themselves accountable and they're asking other people in the organization to hold themselves accountable because the last thing you want is you go out and hire a diversity inclusion expert, you bring them into the organization and they start talking about these concepts and people start saying, Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, this is great, I love this, this is what we need. And then the CEO of the organization is exhibiting the exact opposite of what they're talking about in terms of actions, they're talking it, they're kind of openly expressing support by saying, Listen to this person that's talking about this, but in their actions, they're not following through with that and they're not holding themselves accountable for creating the safe space, so I can speak to a couple examples where I've seen senior leaders openly radical people in meetings and I scream at them and read them, and that's where, again, not only are they not holding themselves accountable, but they're not actually walking the walk, they may be, again, supporting the word, saying the words, but when people see a senior leader, an organization yelling on a person or braiding a person or belittling them, they're immediately gonna shut down and say, Okay, I don't wanna ever say anything in front of this person. Because what if on the next one on the list... And so that's where the accountability... And we're human, right? So at the end of the day, we can't always hold ourselves accountable, especially when we put ourselves in certain situations, but being able to say, Hey, Mike, I wanna make sure... I'm creating a safe space. Can you hold me accountable? And if you see something in the meeting, please immediately just call me out and say, Hey Brian, I don't think that's appropriate, and I'm giving you that, I'm empowering you, whatever your level in the organization is to hold me accountable, and I think that's really important for senior leaders, CEOS, any level of management, to allow their staff to allow their peers to hold them accountable openly, publicly, because that's where everyone starts to understand, Okay, this is not just on me to hold myself accountable, this is really all of us working together to hold each other accountable, and that lends itself to, again, the creating that safe space where we all are in it together, working towards the same... Same vision. Creator of Culture: It's all interconnected. Read the full article

#innovation #ownership #problemsolving #psychologicalsafety

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leonawriter · 6 years

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To Change A Sombre Morrow (chapter eight)

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Characters: Genesis, Red XIII, others.

Summary: Now featuring early cameos. Genesis can't quite believe what's going on. Admittedly, it's a lot to get used to.

"Are you actually a SOLDIER, mister?"

Genesis bit back the urge to snap, satisfying himself only with drumming his fingers against his other arm, and raising an eyebrow at the boy, half his height and with messy dark brown hair. A quick look confirmed that he wasn't the only one, either - there were several others following him through the town, some trying to hide and some not bothering.

The accent was familiar, because of course it was. Stronger than he remembered from Cloud and Tifa, but still recognisable as the Nibelheim way of talking.

"SOLDIER First Class," he said dryly, "Genesis." His voice had mostly recovered in the day that he had been forced to recover. He'd slept for some time before waking up with smoke inhalation and memories returned to him in nightmare form, and after that Vincent glaring at him for several hours if he'd so much as tried to head toward a door or window.

They had reached an impasse when they had both remembered that given what had happened in the Reactor, they were running on borrowed time, now. Even if Hojo didn't arrive to check it in person, someone would come.

He should be feeling more offended at having to inform the boy of his name at all, knowing that Cloud had clearly heard of Sephiroth even in a backwater place like this, but apparently these brats couldn't recognise him, and instead he waited for the inevitable recognition.

The boy's eyes widened in awed realisation, and several of the ones trailing behind made excited noises that mollified his annoyance some.

Which was, of course, when the questions started.

"Is that why your coat's all singed? Because it was you who killed the dragon?"

It was a good thing it had been dragon that had been the focus of the mission Shinra had put on the bulletin, or he would have been having trouble explaining his sorry state to more than just village children.

"Does that mean you know Sephiroth?"

Masamune flashing screaming his name grey skin and dying and dying-

-looking at him in shock-

and understanding, as he walked out of the training room.

"As well as any can say that they do," he said. Better than most, came the dark thought. I know what he's capable of at his worst. "And yes. I even have proof," he added with a smile, losing patience.

He was an actor. He had performed, for an audience, and what he was doing now was not nearly so different. He merely had to make it through and find his way back to Midgar.

"...I wanna be a SOLDIER."

He froze at the words that he had picked up, enhanced hearing and the wind carrying them to him, and slowly turned around. The children followed his line of sight toward where the speaker had been hiding, behind the water tower. Laughed, noisily, probably thinking that Genesis was seeing them, and not believing for one second that the smallest could get in.

They had likely heard this sort of thing from him before, after all.

Blue eyes on a pale face framed by spiked blond hair stared defiantly back at him. The only difference between the ones he was looking at and the ones he remembered was that these eyes weren't glowing, not even showing a slight bit in the light of day.

"If you think you can survive the monsters," he said eventually, "be my guest."

Let them think I was referring to dragons, he thought. If that's what they want to believe.

...

He's halfway back to Midgar when he stops long enough to change the bandages on his shoulder again, sees that the blood on the old ones is dried on, the skin underneath tender and pink and he stares.

Stares, because he was supposed to be degrading, he wasn't supposed to be able to heal-

And yet, there it was. Sore, aching, and a vulnerability, but healing.

He remembered Vincent saying that he'd used high-level healing items in the wake of his burning Jenova, but hadn't thought anything of it. Had forgotten, for a while, that his lungs should have remained burnt and his extremities singed no matter how many Cures were cast.

You can't expect to fall from even a low-hanging dumbapple tree and expect to get away with nothing, he remembered someone saying, tall and beautiful and who looked nothing like him at all. Look at you. Broken arms can take weeks to heal. Everyone will think you're no better than the children who climb up those trees to steal from them, you know that.

His shoulder was - had been, still was - both more and less serious than the broken arm he'd had at ten years old and smarting from the blow to his pride, but...

He takes the time to walk a while, resting his wing, breathing in the air of a part of the Planet that didn't stink of mako while he wasn't racing several thousand feet up in the cold so that no one looked twice at what could be a bird, if they didn't care enough to wonder what else it might be.

...

"You know," the lion-dog creature says - Nanaki, he'd been told, although some merely called him 'Red', and it had only taken a glance at the tattoo to realise that they had similar experiences, experiments all, "it always surprises me, seeing a former SOLDIER so interested in the Lifestream. Most don't even really care, even now. I think most ex-SOLDIERs prefer to ignore anything that serves as a reminder for what they are."

They were sat around the Cosmo Candle, the fire flickering and reminding him of Firaga spells and aerial bombings, more than home and stability. He had one knee up to his chin, his hair tied back in a fast and loose ponytail.

It's his first trip there, Hollander having never spent long if he had gone as far as to go in person, and Genesis having preferred to stay in Banora or search for more substantial leads at the time.

He'll come back a few more times, to check on Weiss, left in the care of those who know more about the Lifestream and healing than he does.

Nanaki is sat on his right. His wing is out and curled around him on his left, shielding him from some of the cold, and some of the stares.

"In case you hadn't noticed," he says, "I am not most former SOLDIERs."

"No, most former SOLDIERs can't hold their own against Cloud while running on sheer guts and sparks, from what I hear."

He grunts at that, wishing that the story hadn't apparently spread so far, so fast. It would have made things... easier. Nanaki says it in good humour, though, which helps.

"They used to say that about Sephiroth," he says before he can stop himself. "Angeal and I were the only ones who could keep up with him. At least Cloud has the decency to break a sweat," he adds with a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

It made him feel like at least there, he could actually wonder if he might win the next spar, rather than the building frustration of Sephiroth always being that far above him, and Genesis constantly being that far behind.

Sometimes, the only reason he lost was because Cloud would react in a way that Genesis didn't think he should be able to - a reflexive motion that on anyone else, would have been from watching and fighting Genesis for years, but Cloud and he had only sparred a handful of times. It was something that Sephiroth would do - and for that reason, Genesis never brought it up.

Nor the fact that the first time it had happened, he had lost the spar due to shock holding him in place, not due to lack of ability to respond.

"I forget that about you too."

He didn't want to say that sometimes he did, too, because that would feel like more of a betrayal than anything else he'd done. He had to remember. Because Angeal was gone, and Sephiroth...

In some ways, he felt that this was something else they shared. They were the last, after all. Left behind.

"The wind sails over the water's surface," he intoned, different from his usual recitations. This was no high drama. "Slowly, but surely..."

Life carried on. Like it would with or without them.

There would come a day when he was gone, too.

"What do you think it is, then?" There was curiosity in Nanaki's voice, in the way he turned his head. "The play talks about a 'Gift of the Goddess'."

Genesis spares a moment to appreciate that despite being a child of his species' standards, Nanaki could tell fine literature when he reads it.

His hand reaches up to his shoulder, which - even now, years on, aches when the weather is cold, or changes quickly. Thinks about Zack Fair, standing in front of him with Angeal's sword and Angeal's honour and Sephiroth's blood, and later, fulfilling Genesis' childish childhood dream.

He sighs, and watches, unable not to pick up a few words here and there, as Cloud explains the place they're in to Denzel, as well as why they're there and what they're doing.

Remembering, Genesis thinks. And reflecting. He usually isn't very good at either - or, sometimes, too good at just the wrong times, he's started to think more recently - and right now is one of those rare times when he's doing both but at the right time, and the right place for it, too.

"...Healing," he says at last.

Perhaps it was vague, in a sense. But there was more than one way to heal a man. Zack's pride in SOLDIER even after he had learned to distrust Shinra had given him an example to follow, one that he wished Angeal could have seen for himself, before he had chosen to die. The goddess forcing him to face himself as he was, had been much like how the doctors had often encouraged SOLDIERs to set a broken bone properly before it healed, or before using materia on it, or they would have to re-break it to enable it to heal correctly.

He'd needed to learn that, given he'd not only been learning combat materia. He really should have kept it in mind.

...

His PHS buzzed with a new message while he was angling down and away from the clouds again, though he only knew that much because the thing was in a coat pocket right next to him, the sound completely muffled by the wind.

Two days, and they'd already sent out a company-wide mail saying that one of their reactors had been damaged 'but still able to continue working'. AVALANCHE had apparently spoken up as soon as they'd heard about it, and taken responsibility.

It took Genesis a moment to remember that the AVALANCHE that was referred to here, was not the same one that was more family than organisation, more a team of heroes each in their own right than the mere eco-terrorists that this one was, if his memory was correct.

He's able to see Midgar in the distance when another mail comes through - an unknown number. No name.

The only details in the message are the words Perhaps with this, my sins will start to be atoned for. There aren't any attachments.

Genesis leaves it in the spam folder, but marks it to keep, instead of to be deleted. Thinks of the labs in the mansion destroyed, the books burning, and wishes it gave him more of a sense of satisfaction. Perhaps it would come later.

He should head straight back to HQ, he knows that, both because of the van and because he needs to report back, even though Nibelheim is half a world away from Midgar, and he'd gone without the aid of a helicopter, taking his time to make sure it didn't seem as though he'd travelled too quickly, but...

He abandons the van, no longer caring if it ended up gone by the time he got back, and slips through the crowds in the same way he learned to when he had been hunted down, drawing the shadows around him.

The church is empty, once he arrives, of anything other than flowers.

There's no Cloud, no Tifa, no children playing around by the water or tending to the flowers.

No Buster Sword over by the altar.

Which is good.

And yet, at the same time, it hurts, because for all the peace and tranquility this place has, it feels empty, hollow, lacking.

Genesis' hands clench into fists. It isn't just the church that feels hollow.

He had changed something. Unless there was something he had never been made aware of concerning just how much Jenova could survive, how little of her would be necessary in order for her to do what she seemed to do best and reach out and take, and change, and mould into her image, letting you almost forget what you'd ever been without her, as if you'd ever been anything without her...

If he had done what he had intended, then Jenova was gone. Gaia and Goddess alone knew what that meant for the SOLDIER program, given how the process relied on not only mako but also her cells.

Vincent was awake. Awake, and mobile. In all likelihood, already on his way to systematically destroy the next lab. And if the ex-Turk ran into Hojo while he was at it, if the professor decided to investigate matters a little more personally... well, he wasn't Genesis' personal demon to deal with.

No, he had been Vincent's. Cloud and Zack's, too. And a long list of others. The man's interference with Genesis' own life had been comparably impersonal.

As if using my genes, my cells, to create the Tsviets was 'nothing personal, you merely have something that I want. He flinched at his own wording, remembering all too well how his own request of Sephiroth hadn't been too far different. Nothing personal. I just want to live.

He grimaced, halfway between laughing bitterly, and simple disgust.

Perhaps he was right to leave me like that.

Genesis sighed, and forced himself to relax his tensed muscles, to ease the growing pain in his shoulder. His healing shoulder. Slowly, but steadily. He'd seen the mako begin to take hold once again, now that he knew what to look for. The irritating itching that had been around for days before Jenova's destruction had been a warning sign. One that he hadn't paid attention to.

And now here I am. I thought that I could save the world early, and come striding back in as if nothing had changed.

Something had, though. He had. Although whether that was caused by what he had destroyed, or what he had remembered, was another matter entirely-

In the echoing silence of the church, the sounds of the rest of Midgar and the surrounding slums had faded away, but now there had been a gasp, the acoustics and his enhanced hearing carrying it close.

His hand was on Rapier out of reflex as he stood from the pew and turned, and only relaxed when he realised that it was merely a girl.

Pale dress, long, braided hair. Slight thing. Probably not a threat, then.

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to," she said, a hand on her heart still, but smiling. Honestly, too. "I just didn't expect to see anyone here this early. You startled me."

Genesis narrowed his eyes at the now clear light of morning beginning to stream through the windows and - more brightly and naturally - through the hole in the roof that was already there.

If he took too much longer, there would be questions, whether he was ready to face them or not.

"I was just leaving," he said as he passed her on the way out, a storm settling into his expression like the ones that he'd worked so hard to avoid ever since gaining his short yet limited freedom from Shinra, focusing only on putting one step after another, back toward the den of monsters itself.

#final fantasy vii #ff7 stuff #Leona fic #to change a sombre morrow verse

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minkoobi · 7 years

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𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝟏:𝟑𝟎

↽pairing: wonwoo x reader ↽genre: college!au, fluff ↽word count: 3.8k ↽notes: ayee another svt scenario! glad you guys liked the first one even tho i wrote it carelessly. i put more thought into this story and it’s been in my drafts for a while now so i hope you like it!

1:32, Monday

The familiar sound of a bell rings across the small coffee shop as he walks in. You had your nose buried into a John Green book, blocking out the noises from the other customers when you heard a small, but deep voice.

“Excuse me,”

You look up and your attention was now on this boy whose hair was styled up and had a pair of specs resting on the bridge of his nose.

“is this seat taken?”

You couldn’t seem to form any words out, so with a shake of your head, a small smile graces the male’s face as he pulls the seat towards his small group of friends.

You were awestruck. Time suddenly ran too fast for you to study his face. His back was facing you so you decided to leave your curiosity as it is.

1:36, Wednesday

You could hear the echo of everyone’s footsteps bounce against the library’s thick walls. Searching through the dusty bookshelves, you finally found the book on literature you were supposed to study. As you pull it out from its place, you spot a familiar form on the other side of the shelf. He was holding onto a book you guessed was just behind yours when he notices you. He squints through his specs and from the way he gives you a small smile, you guessed that he recognized you from the other day. You return the gesture and he walks away, just like that.

Walking to one of the empty study tables, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander off to the good-looking guy. You wondered what his name was, what course he took, the sound of his voice.

Trying to focus on your book led you nowhere as you scan through the same paragraph for the fifth time. You always thought that reading didn’t exactly help in the learning process, so you would always try to find a more entertaining way to do it.

You glanced around for anyone nearby before going back to reading. You started mumbling the words out, tapping your fingers on the table with a slight beat. You tried singing the words to yourself to get the information into your head. It worked in a way, before you heard a low chuckle. You look up and see him again, seated two tables away from you. He was looking at you from behind his book but as your eyes meet, he quickly glances elsewhere.

Your cheeks turn red and you go back to reading quietly. You turned shy and a little uneasy, but it helped make you focus on the book.

You lost track of time, an hour has passed, the mysterious guy was no longer in the library, and you were late for your next class. You grab all your stuff in a rush and run down the campus. Ms. Choi’s gonna have my head for this.

You almost bumped into a group of boys but you were quick to swerve away, shouting a quick “sorry!” before you continue sprinting.

“She looked kinda familiar…”

“Wasn’t she the girl in the coffee place?”

The side of his lips tug upwards as he pushes his specs up his nose, leaving his friends to guess for themselves.

2 weeks went on like this. You would always see him in the coffee shop, library, or just roaming down the hallway. If you were lucky enough, you’d get a smile from him. You couldn’t build up the courage to go up to him, talk to him, ask him what his damn name was. But you were to blame in the end.

You knew one of his friends though. The tall guy from Business Math, Kim Mingyu. You weren’t close, heck you two weren’t even acquainted. You just knew him cause he was in your class. He sat a row ahead of you, and he honestly looks really attractive. It wasn’t a surprise to see girls trying to casually flirt with him, but you admired how he kindly turns them down.

You hated math, so when class ended at exactly 1:30, you practically jumped up from your seat to leave immediately. When you walked out of the room, you saw him again. His eyes were on you and it looked like he wasn’t expecting you to be there. Time slowed down and you could see how his specs slowly move down the bridge of his nose.

“Wonwoo!”

You look back to see Mingyu moving past you and towards his friend, the guy you’ve been eyeing for weeks now.

You were quick to walk away and avoid any awkward conversations, you didn’t even hear Wonwoo call out for you.

Finals are next week and being the good student you are, you went to the library to review your ass off for a decent grade. You even passed on this little party your friends were going to. Turns out it wasn’t such a bad decision.

You weren’t exactly horrible when it came to Chemistry, but you just couldn’t seem get anything into your head. Simply put, you had no motivation. You would’ve given up and settled to staying in bed all day if it weren’t for the person who sat just across from you.

He had his face down on his book, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Gosh he looks so good when he’s focused. He didn’t acknowledge your presence so you decided to do the same.

A few minutes passed when a piece of paper was slid next to your book. It had something written on it.

“Hi : ) I’m Wonwoo”

You bit back a laugh and wrote on the paper.

“Hey. The name’s Y/N”

You slid it back to him and saw him smile. He finally looks up at you through his specs and this is the first time you saw him up close. You always thought he was hard to approach- his eyes seemed dark. But it turns out, he has this warm atmosphere around him.

“I apologize for that childish gesture. But it’s nice to meet you Y/N” he whispers.

“That’s so formal, talk comfortably.”

He laughs and you notice the way his nose scrunches up. You swore you never found him this cute.

“Sorry. I guess I’m just shy around you. I’ve been trying to approach you whenever I had the chance.”

“Really?” You were honestly surprised with this blunt confession, but Wonwoo didn’t seem so fazed about it.

“Yeah. But I always see you here in the library or in the campus coffee place and, well, I just wanna get to know you.”

You both hear a distant “shh” from the librarian and laugh, earning another hush from the latter.

“Well you can, but not here.” You whisper.

“What time is it?”

You check your phone’s clock. “1:34 pm”

Wonwoo smiles at this and stands up, grabbing his stuff. “Hope you haven’t had lunch then.”

You grin, standing up to collect your things as well. “Fortunately, I haven’t.”

“Where do you wanna eat? My treat.” You walk side by side each other and you notice the height difference between you two. He was fairly tall.

“McDonalds? But I’m not letting you pay for my meal.” You look at him and see the way he arches a brow.

“Seriously? That’s all you want?” You laugh and nod a simple yes. He shrugs but grins, probably amused by you.

You became more comfortable with each other since then. Wonwoo even introduced you to some of his friends, including Mingyu. Now you had someone to talk to in Business Math. There was also Jihoon, who you didn’t realize was in your Economics Class cause he was so quiet. You also introduced Wonwoo to your friends and they teased you about him nonstop. Even though the thought of you two being more than friends made you feel all fuzzy, you brushed them off. You were happy with what you had with Wonwoo and you wouldn’t wanna risk losing it.

“Seungcheol’s house party is tonight.” Mingyu’s attention was on his bowl of ramen as he said this. Having lunch with him after class kind of became a thing between you two, and Wonwoo would tag along sometimes.

“I don’t know… I’m not really a party type person.” You poked on your sushi rolls.

“I know that. Listen, I’m just telling you this as a head start cause Wonwoo’s gonna ask you if you’re gonna go.” He slurps loudly on his noodles.

“What does this have to do with him?”

“Well, considering that you’ve been in love with him for a while now, you might feel the need to come just to hang out with him?”

You pick up your used tissue and throw it across the table to his face, earning a scowl from him. “One, I’m not in love with him. Two, do you really think I’d give up a peaceful night for some time with him?” Mingyu just shrugs and across the room, he sees Wonwoo enter the restaurant.

The three of you continued with your lunch. Both of them sat across from you and just as what Mingyu said, Wonwoo brought up the party.

“I heard your friends are going. How about you?” You switch your gaze to Mingyu- who was clearly sending you an ‘I told you’ look- then back to Wonwoo.

“I’m not sure-”

Wonwoo cuts you off. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I thought that we could hang out there. It’s been a while.”

Yes, it’s really been a while since only the two of you spent time together. Even though you had an excuse all planned up in your head, you gave in.

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you there?”

“Sure!” Wonwoo was grinning from ear to ear and all regrets you had suddenly vanished. You could see Mingyu roll his eyes, but you didn’t mind. I guess I would give up a peaceful night for you.

“You are not wearing that.”

You threw on a plain white shirt along with a pair of ripped jeans and your friends did not approve of this look. They were able to force you into putting on more makeup than you usually do, but that was it. Comparing yourself to the rest, you were too underdressed.

“Don’t you wanna impress Wonwoo?”

“It’s just a friendly hang out-”

“Bullshit. It’s obviously a date.” Your friend, Jiyoon, throws a crop top to you. “Keep the pants, but change your shirt.” From the look she gave you, you didn’t even argue and immediately changed your top.

The party started as early as 9pm, but your friends thought it was a good idea to arrive at 12am. You didn’t really understand why, but if it meant more time for you to lay in bed, then you’re fine with it.

The house reeked of alcohol and heavy perfume. You and your friends scattered out, immediately mingling with the crowd while you search for Wonwoo. An arm wrapped around your waist and you were about to smack some sense into this stranger, only to see a drunk Mingyu by your side.

“Hey, you made it!” His voice was steady yet his eyes were unfocused. You grin at his state.

“Yeah I did. But have you seen Wonwoo?”

“I did, like an hour ago.” He brings up the red cup in his free hand and thrusts it towards you. “In the meantime, you should have a drink.”

It’s not like you were a virgin when it came to alcohol. You would always have a regular drink but only with your closest friends. It was a completely different case if it were in parties like this.

“I don’t know Gyu…”

“Oh come on, just one cup. I’ll kiss you if you won’t take it.”

This earns him a light punch on the stomach from you, but he didn’t miss the way your cheeks turn a bit crimson. You were quick to change the topic. “Let’s move to a different spot, we’re blocking the hallway.” He lightly laughs at this, moving the hand that was on your waist to sling over your shoulder as he leads you into the living room.

There were a group of boys seated on the couch and you recognized one of them to be Jihoon. The rest were familiar faces you would regularly see around the campus.

“We have company boys!” Mingyu obnoxiously announces. You were greeted with smiles and friendly hellos. You exchanged names and soon became acquainted with each other.

The guy named Seokmin sat next to you and was kind enough to take any drink that was shoved to your hand. He gave off such a positive vibe and you could’ve sworn you saw him glow whenever he flashed that beautiful smile of his. He kept you company, including you in their conversations or having your own little chats.

“Wonwoo was here a while ago. Maybe he left already?” Seokmin looks over to you, as if to read your expression. You were pretty upset with the thought of him leaving you alone. You did come just to be with him. When it took you a minute to reply, Seokmin spoke up.

“I don’t know if you remember this but, months ago, some of the guys and I hung out in this coffee shop. I believe that was your first encounter with Wonwoo?”

Your eyes were suddenly on his as you try to recall the memory. The way you tilt your head in thought urges the man to go on with his story.

“Right after he got back to our table with his chair, he had this small smile on his face. He even kept on glancing back to you but you had your face covered with a book.”

This confession alone was enough for you to feel all warm inside. You didn’t want to believe it at first, but Seokmin wasn’t one to make up such story. He grins and sits back on the coach. “Ahh, how oblivious.”

Oblivious?

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Seungcheol yelled over the blasting music. “Beer Pong Tournament!” Everyone was suddenly up on their feet and headed towards the center of the room. Mingyu practically drags you with him, stopping right at the end of the long table. There were 10 cups at each end, positioned in a triangular shape. Mingyu hands you a little orange ball, and that’s when it hit you.

“We got this partner!”

“Partner?!”

On the other side of the table stood Jun and Minghao. From the way everyone’s eyes were locked expectantly on them, you knew that they were good at this game.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you.” Jun then tosses the ball towards your cup without aim, making it miss. The competitive side of you kicks in and you look over to them with a small smile.

“That won’t be necessary.” You toss the ball lightly and it bounces on the rim of the cup before falling right in. Mingyu, who seemed fairly surprised, kept on teasing Jun who took the drink and downed it in one go.

The game went on like this, but Minghao was quick to catch up. In the end, you and Mingyu lost the match. You both finished up all the cups on your side, and having to drink them continuously sent a rush through your body. The next players were quick on taking your spot, unintentionally shoving you to the side. The space was pretty small, so bodies would bump against you every once in a while. You were starting to feel uneasy so you excused yourself. Skimming through the crowd became difficult and it felt like you were being pushed into this small space. Your chest began to tighten and you desperately tried to shove your way out. The dizziness got the best of you and you lunge forward to someone’s arms.

“Y/N?! Are you alright?”

That voice. That familiar low pitch and vibration. You look up to confirm that it was Wonwoo. He had an arm wrapped securely around your waist while his free hand held onto your wrist. Worry was evident in his eyes and he noticed how your breathing hasn’t calmed down. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You may have regained composure after a little while, but the still air inside the car was suffocating. Wonwoo has not spoken a word the whole ride and he had a strong grip on the stirring wheel. You can tell he was mad, but did he honestly have the right to be? Suddenly bothered by your friend’s attitude, you spoke up.

“I can’t believe you’re actually mad at me. It’s not like I wanted to be there in the first place! Where were you anyway? I waited for a whole damn hour and you didn’t show up. You didn’t even bother leaving a messa-“

“I’m sorry.” He cuts you off. “I just, wasn’t comfortable there. I’m not really into loud environments like that.” He mumbles the last few words but you heard them. “I know I should’ve called or something, but I guessed that you weren’t coming. You’re not into parties yourself after all.”

“Wait, if you knew, then why invite me to one?” You notice the way he shifts on his seat and you bite back a smile at this. He looked at loss for words, like he was composing the sentence in his head.

“Well you hang out with Mingyu a lot, and it looks like you enjoy his presence way more than mine. Completely understandable though! He’s fun and easy to talk to-“

You burst out laughing at this point. This catches Wonwoo by surprise and he just stares at you after pulling over next to your house. “Jeon Wonwoo, were you actually jealous?” You try to subside your giggles but completely stop at his unexpected reply.

“What if I was?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply and immediately steps out of the car. Before you could even open the door on your side, Wonwoo beats you to it. He walks you to the front door before he bids you a quick goodbye. As you unlock your door, your hand hovers over the handle. It takes you a second before you call out for him.

“Hey, Wonwoo.” He turns around to look at you.

“You can stay over for a while. My roommate is still in the party and it honestly gets kinda lonely in here.” A smile graces the man’s lips and before you know it, you were face to face with him. “Was that a suggestion or do you want me to stay?” You softly jab his stomach and this erupts a chuckle from him.

You both fell into a steady conversation while watching some rom-com movie you both didn’t pay any attention to. Only now did you realize how much has changed within a few months. Wonwoo’s hair grew longer, now styled in messy waves which you could so easily see yourself running your fingers through. He’s dressed in ripped jeans and a pastel yellow sweater; a complete contrast to his usual black and white wardrobe. You observe him a little more and noticed how he isn’t wearing his specs today. He looked different without them, somehow younger. He notices you staring and taps your nose. “What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head with a small smile and lean your head against his shoulder. “Nothing really.” You’re grateful to have met Wonwoo. If it weren’t for him, college would’ve been quite a bore. He was your best friend. He always took good care of you and this is exactly what you were afraid of losing. You’d be risking a good portion of your life over feelings that were probably one sided.

“What time is it?” You glance over to your phone and read the numbers out loud.

“1:37 am.”

Wonwoo grins at this and you poke his stomach as if to question why. An arm snakes around your waist and you feel yourself being pulled against his chest. You can feel your cheeks heat up at the sudden gesture but completely brush it off.

“1:30 onwards is always special to me. If you haven’t figured why, it’s because it’s the time I always cross paths with you. The coffee place, the library, the hallways, right now.”

“Only around 1:30 huh.” Your voice falters a bit but Wonwoo catches it. No one spoke for a solid minute until

“We can change that.”

You sit back to look at him and was met with unreadable eyes. What was he thinking about? All of a sudden, he presses his lips against your own. It was simple, innocent even. You could feel his bottom lip quiver, probably hesitant over his actions. You kiss him back softly and you both let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. Wonwoo was first to pull away and he rests his forehead against yours. His eyes slowly flutter open and his voice stayed low, adjusted to the silent atmosphere in the room.

“Every day could be our 1:30. Every hour, every minute, every second, I want to share these moments with you. I like you Y/N, and I want to prove it to you from now on, if you let me.”

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, you move in for a quick peck on his lips before letting out a breathy reply.

“I would like that.”

The front door opens with a loud bang and soon accompanied with a louder voice.

“Y/N? Yeah, it’s Mingyu and Jiyoon’s with me!”

“Nothing happened to us! He just drove me home!” Jiyoon yells afterwards. You sit up and from your position on the coach, the two only saw you. “Can you both like, shut the hell up. It’s early in the morning.”

“Correction, it’s 10am and a Friday. You know what that means!” Mingyu was grinning from ear to ear and you groan at how hyper he was. You both usually eat out on Fridays and it was your treat this time.

“Who the fuck is yelling right now?” Wonwoo sits up from his laying position next to you and that’s the only time Jiyoon and Mingyu noticed he was there this whole time. You could hear a pin drop from how silent the two became.

“Good morning by the way.” Wonwoo’s raspy morning voice sent shivers down your spine as he quickly pecks your cheek.

“Oh God it took you guys a long time to finally get together and you’re already being touchy, I feel sick.” Jiyoon exaggerates a gag before walking to the kitchen

“Oh and I’m gonna have to borrow Y/N for today, if that’s alright with you?” Mingyu just kept gaping at you both, feet glued stuck on the same pot.

“We’ll take that as a yes.”

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