you first met jungkook when you heard the sound of a moving truck beep its way into the driveway next to yours
now u were always a child of adventure
ur parents worked a lot so it was basically u at home with ur grandparents and they were the most chill motherfuckers on the face of the planet
and the front door of ur house always seems to be unlocked so u were the poster boy/gal of “adventure is out there!!!”
cue me ugly crying that movie kills m e
u loved the outdoors and being adventurous
u were so tomboy and reckless it was hilarious
u drove every single member of ur family insane
they got called into school one time to u staring at the ground in the principal’s office next to a kid with a missing tooth and bloody nose
“he tried to hug me”
to summarize, u loved causing trouble, but have fun in the midst!
and yes, meeting new ppl!!
and at dinner, u would hear ur grandpops and grandma talking abt the couple moving in next door
and how they have also have a 6!! year!! old!! son!!
and u could barely keep ur head on the pillow that night bc omg! you can’t wait to have a new friend the same age as u!
so on that beautiful sunny saturday morning, at exactly 7am sharp, with ur scabby knees, bruised legs, ripped shorts, mismatched socks, run-down light up sneakers, and ur older brother’s hand-me-down power rangers sweatshirt, you marched on over to the driveway to meet your new best friend
and u see a middle aged man and a beautiful woman trying to carry in a couple boxes together and u guessed those were the parents
and as u were marvelling at how pretty they were, “man, if they look that good, how good does their son loo–”
“MOM, DAD, HELP IM STUCK IN THE SOFA!!”
u have no idea what came over u but u almost tripped over the tall weeds trying to get into the truck and find the source of the voice
you went straight to the yellow, flower-y sofa resting in the middle of the truck, with little boy limbs sticking out from under the cushions
u ran up and ripped them away and low and behold, u laid ur eyes on the most beautiful 6 year old there ever was
and from then on, ur heart decided to plant its FUCKING BOTTOM with jungkook forever
from the first day he met u he literally believed u were the weirdest person he’s ever met
but without a doubt, you became childhood friends
like best friends
u saw him naked for the first time when u were 8 and just bursted into his shower at like 8am in the morning
“Y/N WHAT THE FUCK GET OUT IM NAKED?????”
“omg it’s so smALL?”
he didn’t speak to you for two weeks after that
your grandparents would always have him over for dinner
you guys played make believe together and took naps in ur power ranger blanket together
but it’s also a lot of bullying
LOTS OF WRESTLING
taking turns making ugly faces, whoever laughs first has to go and tell ur grandma they pooped their pants and needs help changing it
“accidentally” slapping each other SUPER hard in the face
“you had a fly on ur cheek sorry!! couldn’t help it!!”
literally the purest and most innocent friendship ever ever ever
everyday in first grade, when you had reading time, he would be in the seat behind you and fold a tiny little paper plane with a sticky note and throw it at you
would keep folding them and throwing it at you until you noticed and turned around and yelled at him and got in trouble by your student teacher
“i hate u jeon jungkook”
you didn’t really
but it wasn’t until the third or fourth time he kept doing it that you realized there was a message on each of them
and they weren’t really anything cute
they were just like
“hey notice me”
“your hair looks greasy from the back”
“what book are you reading”
“don’t ignore me”
“am i being annoying?”
but your favourite was
“i’m glad you’re in my class”
because he would rarely ever show affection to you because your relationship was made up a lot of the “we don’t need to say anything to know it”, meaning you never needed to straight out express your gratitude to each other for the other to know that you’re appreciated
main point is you grew up together
however, after like the fourth grade
you both somehow decided that you were too cool for each other despite the fact that your crush on him was still there
there was something so mesmerizing about the fact that
he never truly ever demeaned you as a person??? like yes he was a tease and you guys always did those things to each other
but for a kid, he was always somewhat of a gentleman and would never make fun of you to deliberately hurt your feelings
unfortunately doe, in middle school, your group of friends completely changed
and although you guys sort of had the same status in school of being popular but very, very laidback, and your groups of friends acquainted with one another, your interactions would be saying hi, making small talk when you were with a handful of other people and smiling at each other as you pass by the halls
back then, you would walk home together every single day and spend time doing homework in the bedroom of one of you two
but as the grades went on and the workload increased, you found music and student council and volleyball whereas he found track and basketball and dance
his family went through troubles and he found it difficult to talk to people at times
and you were so busy with finding a job and saving up for post-secondary that you spent after school with your clubs or in the library studying
timing and interests for you guys were extremely unparalleled and eventually, things just grew apart before high school began
now, reader, entering high school, you only had one rule: forget. about. jeon. jungkook.
and it wasn’t like he was being a dick or anything to you, you just didn’t find any way that you guys would work out anymore
despite being best friends and literally showering together when you were 7 and your parents are best friends, you just never ever have proper conversations anymore, and things just naturally got awkward
and also life lesson for u guys omg so philosophical what it wasn’t anyone’s fault, you guys just happened to no longer have the same interests or the time to notice each other anymore - people drift apart. it happens.
and you were so okay with coming to terms with that
“oh my gosh is that jeon jungkook?”
“he… grew muscles?”
“giRL HIS HAIR”
“puberty hit him like a freight train???”
the morning of sophomore year, after a whole first year of properly avoiding him and being absolutely sure that he wasn’t going to get hot (jungkook is juST A LATE BLOOMER OK LEAVE HIM ALONE), you turned your head to the front doors and felt the wind get knocked out of you
bc walking in with his friends, with the school uniform seemingly perfectly snug and hugging every one of his curves
and for some reason
yes he looked more mature and yes he got fucking MANLIER
but you were instantly reminded of something that clicked in you when you saw that 6 year old boy stuck in the sofa on the very first day he moved in next to you
was it that innocence? was it the charm? was it the hair-swept-away-from-face thing? you diDN’T KNOW
but girl you were gone again
you dated people in freshman year and guys liked you, but you were never the type to chase or to fawn
you were just different from other girls like you would much rather be the type to be the one playing ball than the one in a miniskirt cheering on the team on the sidelines
that’s just who you are, heck you fucking punched a dude that wanted to hug you and say thank you, broke his nose and chipped his tooth like kk y/n
it was just difficult for you to grasp feelings, truly, but for some reason, this guy has just got you so weak???
and for some other reason, jungkook and the reminder and memories of you guys as kids just hits you like a truck and you’re already head over heels once again
and you go into first period to shake off the thought of him but ofc!!! he’s!!!! in!!!! ur!!! first!! period!!! literature!!! ihml!!!
so you take the seat diagonally in the front of him to make sure you don’t get sidetracked in ur favourite class and drool at him the entire time
you were taking notes from the board, analyzing and reviewing the literary device and short stories before delving into the actual stuff in literature when you dropped your pencil and leaned down to grab it
when you saw an arm reach down first
and hand it to you
you looked up
and you guessed it
biTCH IT WAS JUNGKOOK AND he had such a warm and friendly smile
and you could barely say anything
because on one hand you were like oh i’m glad he still remembers who i am??? like ffs? but your other side is like oh my god oh my god oh my god
so weeks go by and every single day you feel such a burning sensation at the back of ur neck like fufufufuffufufu he’s RIGHT THERE
and jungkook isn’t that type to be extremely boisterous and loud and obnoxious even if he’s hot shit
so you weren’t worried about him bothering you whatsoever after that like that was a fluke, he was being nice, whatever, it’s done
a couple weeks go by and you’re starting to feel better now, thinking you’ve got this crush thing under control
silent reading time
you were just assigned a new book by your favourite author! and you couldn’t wait to begin the book reports on these
so you dove into the world of fire-breathing dragons and mystical knights and creatures beyond reality
when you felt a poke on your neck
and you had no idea what it was? you were so engulfed in the story that you just scratched and left it, not thinking twice
and then you felt it again
it took you a second, but it hit you
and it hit you hard
you turned your head around slowly and your heart was beating so fast
your eyes fall on a small pink sticky note, folded into a plane, dropped on your shoulder
you don’t even DARE LOOKING BAC K AT HIM BC U KNOW UR HANDS AR E SHAKING TOO HARD AND IF YOU SEE HIM YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY DROP DEAD
so you open it, careful to make no noise in the silent classroom
and on the single sticky note it read:
“it’s good to see you again. i’m so so glad you’re in my class.”
you sneak a tiny glance back at the boy behind you, your face flushing with heat and memories
and from behind his book, he looks up and gives you the tiniest, warmest smile you’ve ever received
you folded the paper once more and fit it in your pocket and returned to your dragons and knights and witches, all the while smiling like a fool to yourself because maybe, just maybe, you didn’t really drift apart that much at all
hi guys!! so sorry for the late update, hope you enjoy thisssss:)
also side note: just because it’s valentine’s day (i mean i dont celebrate this) doesnt mean that you need a significant other! buy yourself some hershey’s, make some tea, snuggle up with a teddy bear and a blanket, and switch on some netflix. today is any other day, so don’t demean yourself and your experience with this day because of your status!
alsoooo don’t wanna get a little preachy but, in this au i kind of hint at the fact that the y/n or reader is someone very tomboyish and doesn’t really seem to find herself chasing after boys. in no way am i trying to vocalize the fact that just because you’re of a certain nature, your personality towards boys reflects that. this is just a fictional work of how one might feel (presumably me lolz) when realizing feelings for someone they truly loved at one point. just because a woman who is normally tougher on the exterior has a sudden soft spot for a boy does not indicate that she’s lost sense of herself or that she succumbs to a boy. just because a woman is a certain way because of a boy that makes her feel different doesn’t mean she is any less of a woman herself. everyone is obligatory to their feelings, and how women choose to express themselves sexually or emotionally to a man they love is their own personal choice as long as they are within consent and are safe. everyone’s decisions and behaviours in love are consensual and their own - that does not demean them as a feminist in any way, shape or form. remember that.
A/N: I actually made myself sad lol. ANYWAYS ON WITH HELL WEEK.. also sorry if it’s so short
“Beloved, there is a thing called relaxation and rest, you realize that?”
You continue scribbling down notes not listening to a single word coming out of Damian’s mouth. You were getting for the upcoming hellscape known as examinations. You were extremely stressed and didn’t have anytime for rest. Either way, for the past few days, sleeping proved to be just another cross to carry as all that it showed you were nightmares. Nightmares of failure, hiraeth, and the unknown.
Failure was something you were avoiding your best. It was the whole reason for you working so hard. You did not have any idea on what you would do if you hit failure. You wouldn’t know what would be lurking around to hit you even harder. This leads to the fear of unknown. It is a common attribute for many of, because we simply do not know what it is. We fear what we do not know, because we don’t know how to prepare for it, how bad it’ll destroy us or what it can truly do. These fears all have to link to something. A root cause to all others’ demise and destruction.
Hiraeth. Hiraeth is when you feel homesick and longing to go back, but to go back to where? You may ask. Go back to something that never existed in the first place or no longer does. Take a minute to comprehend that definition. It is when you desire to go back to something that never lived. An example may be a wish to go back to a family that never truly was a family and was filled with hatred and lust or go to a home to where you belong, without actually knowing if home exists. It is a very complex and miserable occurrence. Why you affiliated with such was not because you experienced it. You did not want to. You feared that it was just one of the products of failure. One of the unknown monsters lurking in the dark.
You wanted the nightmares to stop, but ever since you’ve been stressing, they just continue. You couldn’t stop cramming so there seemed to be only one path to go.
You continued to ignore Damian with all the thoughts and studies rushing through your head. Every single one of his words were comforting ones, but you persisted in ignoring him. You were too focused on the matter at hand.
“Beloved.” He yelled concerningly. Your eyes finally locked with his.
“I’m sorry. I just really need to pass every single one of these exams.” You sighed looking back down at the topics you were reviewing. Some were quite easy, and other’s were a matter of years of wit and skill. At least, That was how it was represented in your mind.
“They’re not my best subjects which is why I have to go the extra mile.” You continued quietly.
“I could help you, if you want.” He smiled. Your eyes lit up and the thought of him helping you. You didn’t care if he was crap at helping or extremely good. You just needed your boyfriend in a time of darkness. He was deeply against overworking yourself and knew he wouldn’t get you to stop so a perfect opportunity laid before him.
“I would love that.” You said joyed.
That night all went well and he helped you immensely. It was not a big surprise though; He is the son of batman and was trained by the league of assassins since birth. There were even a few laughs and jokes thrown. You felt relaxed and comfortable. It was a calm environment that did not remind you of the imagined pressure chasing you. You were able to study well and feel safe. You did not feel the tension you were focusing.
What you did not expect thought was to fall asleep. Once realized you were in said trance you freaked out and prepared for the worst, but the nightmares did not happen. They were replaced with sweet and delightful dreams. It was needed for the longest time. When you fell asleep, Damian took it as his duty to make you feel pleasant. He carried you to your bed, fluffed your pillows and tucked you in. It was the definition of snug, but one thing or person rather was missing. Damian laid down beside you and cuddled you throughout the night.
He was there for you in the nightmares. You just needed to let him in.
Hey guys! This is the first part of a long series as well as my first fic posted to this account. This story is kind of based on American Horror Story: Coven, but only as far as location and magic and stuff. I’m not sure how long this series will be, but I’m aiming for a lot of chapters. This story WILL include smut, but not for the first few chapters. Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you guys think!
Charlotte adjusts her large, black sun hat so that it blocks
the rays from touching her skin. She was never a huge fan of black, but it was
required by Headmistress. “It’s a
tradition, Charlotte. Women of our kind express ourselves through our power,
not through the clothes that we wear.” She rolled her eyes, remembering
what she had told her when she first arrived at this school as she gave one
last glance at herself in the tall mirror. It was a nice day outside, which doesn’t
happen most days this late in the year in Louisiana. Although the culture was
rich and the lovely people that surrounded Charlotte made her happy, she can’t
help the dull ache in her chest when she thought about home. Just a few months ago, she had been taken
from her home in Connecticut after she had… discovered her powers.
sitting at the dining room table, listening to her stepfather and mother scream
at each other once again. She knows why her mother married such a horrible man.
When Charlotte’s real dad died, they went broke. They lost their home and were
living with friends for a while before Jack came into their lives. He had good
money, but not a good heart. He beat her mother after the honeymoon phase was
over and they all moved in together. But, that night, Charlotte couldn’t take
it anymore. She stood so quickly from her chair that it crashed to the ground.
She went into the living room where she saw her mother’s wrists gripped tightly
in the man’s hands. She shoves him as hard as her small figure could. He
tumbled back, not expecting her. “Leave her alone!” Charlotte screams.
heaves up and down. “Watch your tone, you little bitch!” He strides over to her
and without hesitation he strikes her across the face.
back, she holds her hand against her cheek. He had never really done much more to
her than a hard shove or a firm grasp. She lunges forward again and pounds her
fists against his chest. He grabs her arms and throws her to the ground,
hitting her head hard against the floor boards and she hears her mother shout
behind her. She looks over her shoulder at her mother, seeing her scream at
Jack to stop. As soon as she looks back at him, Charlotte feels a hard kick to
her stomach. All the air rushes from her lungs as she curls within herself.
Before she can collect herself, she sees his black shoe fly towards her face.
As it comes into contact with her nose her head snaps back. She heard her
mother scream again and run towards her wretched husband. As she reached him,
his hands instantly wrapped around her neck. “I’m tired of you and your little
slut!” He spits at her.
reaches for her face, feeling the blood gushing from her nose and onto the
floor. Her ears ringing from the impact. She looked up at Jack now standing
over her mother, beating her to a pulp. She doesn’t know what makes her do it,
but she stretches her hand towards Jack. Suddenly he freezes and his eyes go
wide as his hands claw at his own throat. Slowly, Charlotte’s fingers clench
into a fist making his face turn a deeper shade of red. Heavy puffs of air left
her mouth, so much pain and hatred coursing through her. As soon as her fingers
clenched into her palm a loud crack sounded through the suddenly quiet house
and Jack fell in a heap to the floor. Charlotte’s hand fell with a soft smack.
She knew she snapped his neck, and so did her mother. After a few moments, her
mother comes towards her and falls to her knees next Charlotte’s body. They
were both sobbing, not knowing what to do. After a while, she sits up and tells
her mother to help her drag his body to the bottom of the stairs. They called
the cops right after and his death went down as self-defense once they looked
at the state of the two women. They convinced them that in the middle of
watching Jack beat her daughter, Charlotte’s mother pushed him to get him away
from her and he stumbled back and fell down the stairs.
Not even a
week later, three men and a blonde woman showed up at her door. She turned to
look at her mother who was standing right behind her, a few tears falling down
her face. “Mom? What’s going on?” Her voice shook.
really hoping it skipped you, baby. I didn’t want this to happen to you.” She
hugged her hands close to her chest.
you talking about?” Both of the men grabbed her arms, and she cried out. “Mom!
Stop it! Tell them to stop!” She kicked her legs in the air and things began to
fly around the room and crash into the walls. They dragged her past the other
woman who was dressed completely in black in the middle of summer. The last she
saw of her mother, she was standing in the doorway as the men threw her in a
She’s been here for five months now. Five months meaning not
seeing her mother or friends from home. She signed at the heavy memory before
walking out of the shared room. She waved good-bye to her roommate, Claire.
“Where are you going?” She asked.
“Just for a walk. I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in
weeks.” She said; hand on the doorknob, trying very hard to leave.
“Do you want me to come with you? Or is it one of those
‘Charlotte’s alone time’ moments?” She smiled while flipped her bright red hair
over her shoulder, making a point of your dramatic need to be alone every once
in a while.
She rolls her eyes, smiling at her roommate. “It’s an alone moment.
It’s just a walk to the library.”
“Okay, well make sure you’re back before night fall. It’s a
full moon and Headmistress will burn us at the stake if we’re late for the
She nods before opening the door and walking into the
hallway. The house was so white that the contrast between the girls’ black
attire and the walls was blinding. Her heeled boots click against the grey
floorboards as she walks down the stairs, smiling to a few girls as she passed
by. There were only twenty girls that lived here making them a pretty small
coven. When she first arrived here, Charlotte was in everyone’s whispers. She had
killed someone. She should be in prison. Claire was the first person to talk to
her and actually ask her what her purpose in murdering someone was.
She pushed her way through the front gate and made her way
down the street. As she walked towards the library, she could feel eyes on her.
She knew that her kind was in valued at a high price for certain people. Just
as real as witches are, the people that want them dead are too. There was only
one witch killed in Salem. After her death, they knew how to hide themselves so
as to prevent another sister witch from dying. They enchanted their eyes first,
changing them into different colors because witches are known for having blue
eyes. They were smart enough to know how to act and how not to in front of
them. They hid…and that’s what they’ve been doing ever since. But the hunters
have been passed down for generations and they know witches exist.
She wraps her knitted shawl tighter around her and looks over
her shoulder, still getting chills at the thought of someone hunting her down
and cutting her head off. She quickly rips open the front door of the library
and makes her way to the section no one visited. On these shelves were a few
books on healing plants. She ran her fingers over the worn spines before
folding her fingers around one and pulling it off the shelf. Her fingers run
over the leather as she makes her way out of the isle. She walks over to the
counter where the familiar middle aged woman sat. “Good morning, Charlotte. How
are you today?” She asks, taking to book from her.
“I’m wonderful, and you?” Charlotte returns.
“Oh, just great, dear.” She hands her back her book. “I’ll
see you soon?”
Holding the book snug in one arm, she decides to walk through
the market place that was set up every weekend. She enjoyed hearing the people
shout out their goods to customers that passed through. They sold everything
from baked goods to knick-knacks. She smiled at a little girl who was tugging
on her mother’s skirt and pointing to a brownie. The mother looks at her
daughter and at the treat, a deep frown set on her face. As Charlotte walks by,
she can hear the mother tell the girl that she only had enough money to buy
what they really needed and the little girl’s face fell. Charlotte stops and
walks towards the table selling the brownies. “How much for the plate?” She
asks the merchant, pointing to the brownies. She fishes the required amount out
of the small pouch she carried and handed it to them. She picked the plate up
off the table and looked for where the duo went. She spotted them a few tables away
buying some vegetables. “Ma’am?” She says just loud enough for the mother to
turn around. She looks at Charlotte and then at the plate in her hands that she
pushes towards her.
“Oh, no. I can’t-“She tries.
“Please, I insist.” The woman just looks at her. “Really. I’m
not even a huge chocolate person.”
After another moment or two, she finally smiles and reaches a
hand out to take the plate and hugs Charlotte with the other. “Bless you,
Charlotte returns the smile and nods, bidding the woman and
her child a nice day before continuing her walk through the market. She comes
across a man selling records, causing her to stop and look over the selection. While
she was flipping through the “F” section, her eyes went wide. There was an
authentic copy of “Rumors” by Fleetwood Mac (she knew it was authentic because
she checked the year on the back). Her smile stretched the farthest it had in a
while. It was a thing, she thinks, among witches where they all in one way or
another loved Fleetwood Mac. It was mostly because Stevie was a witch herself,
though, she was a white witch while the rest of the girls at school
She set the vinyl on top of the box to fish out her money
again. When she got a hold of it, she looked up to see the record was gone. She
realizes that there is someone now next to her and she has to hold her head
back to try to look at this person’s face. But all she could see was the back
of their head while they went to pay for her
record. From what she could tell, this thief was a man with brown hair that
was longer than her own (her hair grazed the top of her shoulders while his
went a few inches past). He had on a black trench coat and black skinny jeans
with brown boots. Charlotte huffs and marches up to the man, tapping him hard
on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir.” She says firmly. He only turns his head to
the side, giving her a sideways glance before returning to the merchant. She
continues. “I had that record first.”
He hands the merchant the record and his money before speaking.
“Funny, because it looked like it was sitting on the box.” His voice was thick
with a British accent.
“W-well, I was getting my money out to pay for it…so I set it
down.” She wraps her shawl tight around her body as a cool breeze brushes over
her. She watched in shock as he took Stevie back from the merchant and walked
away from her. She stood frozen for a moment before chasing after him.
Harry rolled his eyes, hearing her shoes click against the
sidewalk as she chased him down. He tucked the record under his arm and shoved
his hands in his coat pockets. He stops abruptly when she runs in front of him.
He peers down at her through his sunglasses before attempting to sidestep
around her until she moves in front of him again. He huffs, staring at her. She
was pretty short compared to him, a little less than a head shorter. Her blonde
hair shorter than his, which was another reminder for him to get a cut, and her
eyes were a bright blue. She was wearing a dress with thigh-high socks and
ankle boots. She clutched a shawl tightly around her and was holding an old
book that said something about healing plants which was…weird. Everything was
black and he thought for a second that maybe she was one of those weird goths.
She was gorgeous, though, he couldn’t lie to himself.
“Hello?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows, noticing he was
checking her out and not answering her.
“What?” His tone was a little harsher than he had intended.
“I was clearly going to buy that record and you decided to be
an ass and take it for yourself, not even asking if I was going to buy it. It’s
He couldn’t help but think about how cute she was yelling at
him. “You’ll come across another copy. I think you’ll live.” He tries to walk
away again, but she pushes on his chest and he stumbles back a bit. She only
nudged him but it felt like a good shove.
“…Harry. I don’t know if I’ll ever come across that record again because it is an
“I know, that’s why I bought it.”
She lets out a frustrated cry. “That’s the whole reason I was buying it! I’ll give you the money
for it just, please, let me have it. I saw it first.”
Harry laughs. “’I saw it first.’ What are you, five?”
“No!” She stomps her foot on the ground, not helping her
point, and sticks her hand out. She wanted so bad to use her telekinesis to
just yank it from his hands. “Give me back Stevie!” She pouts.
He smirks, walking forward and bending down until he was her
height. His sunglasses fell down his nose a bit, causing his green eyes to
appear only a few inches in front of her. She could smell his minty breath from
the gum he chewed. “Tough luck, kitten.” He stands straight again and walks
away from her and this time she lets him, not wanting to put up a fight anymore
because her legs are shaking.
Charlotte’s mood went from great to really grumpy in the span
of five minutes. Her shoulders slumped walking home and through the house to
her room. Claire wasn’t there anymore, probably eating dinner. Once she had set
her book on the desk in the corner and put her hat and shawl back into the
closet, she decided to go down for lunch also.
She saw Claire sitting at the long table, the chair next to
her empty. They always saved a seat for each other if one reached a meal first.
Charlotte walks into the kitchen and pours herself a bowl of soup and takes a
few pieces of bread. As she leaves the kitchen, she almost runs into Steph.
“Woah, slow down there, killer.” She laughs and continues walking past her,
taking a piece of bread from her plate. Ever since Charlotte had arrived here,
Steph has been nothing but evil to her, especially when word got out that she
killed her stepfather. She looks over her shoulder back at that bitch witch,
seeing her reach out to pick up a glass of water. Just when it was about to
touch her lips, Charlotte flicked her wrist and the glass slid out of Steph’s
hand and shattered at her feet. She looks over at Charlotte’s smirk and screams
at her. “You psycho bitch!”
She takes her seat next to Claire, who’s still laughing from
what had just happened. “I’m waiting for you guys to go full on witch fight.”
When she doesn’t respond, Claire turns to her best friend. “What’s wrong,
babe?” Her blue eyes shone bright in contrast to her chocolate skin and
fire-red hair. Her hair was Charlotte’s favorite feature about her-it described
her outgoing personality perfectly.
Charlotte explains what happened with his Harry guy at the
market. “It’s whatever. I’ll just get a new copy.” She shrugs.
“Wha-hell no! Who does this guy think he is? If we see him on
the street, we’re going to follow him home and hold him hostage and beat his
ass until he gives it up.” Claire explains her plan.
Charlotte giggles at her friend. “It’s really not that big of
a deal. And I hate to admit it, but he was really attractive.” She remembers
how sharp his jaw was cut and how bright his green eyes were. He seemed to have
a strong build to support his tall frame and she only saw a small cross tattoo
on his left hand.
“Oh, no.” Claire points a finger at her. “You cannot go all
‘I haven’t had sex in a year’ on this. He was a dick and that’s it.”
Charlotte used to have a boyfriend before the whole Jack
thing. But they broke up after two years because she had ‘changed after her
new, rich daddy came into her life’. If only he knew. “I’m not thinking that!”
“Mhm, sure.” Claire stands, picking up her dishes. “Come on,
we have to get ready.”
Charlotte and Claire twirl around their room in their flowing
white dresses. “I miss wearing things that aren’t monochromatic” Claire says
out of breath. “It’s a shame we can only do this during a full moon.”
Charlotte hums in response, fixing her hair in the mirror
before sitting on her bed and picking up her new book. The best thing she had
learned so far being at this academy was the power common plants around her
had. Miss Hanes has been the one teaching her all of the different spells that
could be created with them. She showed her how to listen to chrysanthemums
singing and once they stop it means something is wrong (which is why Charlotte has
them planted in the box outside of her windowsill). It turns out that the swamps in the area are a
cesspool for healing plants-something about the mud from the swamps. While the
girls were lost in their own things, there was a knock on their door, signaling
it was time to go. Charlotte looked outside, seeing that it was pitch black
outside. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, the whole house is waiting
in the common room, everyone is in white. Headmistress, the same women who was
there when Charlotte was ripped from her home, stood by the fireplace, ready to
explain to the newer girls what was about to happen.
Hi ducky, do you have any tips on how to make a wig cap stay in place? Mine keeps sliding off and that makes my purple hair at work visible...
Right Fit First, make sure that your wig cap is a good fit for your head. Some are tighter than others and they can stretch out over time. Make sure you have a snug fitting one. They can also have different size “bands” around the base, I find ones with thicker bands are more secure.
Pins and Clips Hair pins can be used to attach the wig to the hair under the wig but can also be used to clip the wig cap to your hair. This works best with netted caps that have gaps for the pins.
Some people use toupee clips, sewn into the wig, to help the wig grip the hairline at the front. This may also work for clipping a wig cap in place.
Wig Bands I haven’t tried these out, but they are bands that go around the front of the head and give a surface for wigs to grip on to. It might work to give extra coverage when the wig cap starts to creep back!
Touch ups Even with a very secure setup, a heavy wig might slide back and with activity the pins might loosen. You may still need to pop into a bathroom to do some touching up.
(I forgot to add this to my last ask, I’m so sorry!!) Are there any tips on how to make a wig less itchy?
Wig Cap and Wig Liners Wearing a wig cap will create a barrier between the wig and your head, that way it doesn’t rub against your scalp. If the itching is from rubbing then it can make a big difference. Lightweight wig liners give an even thicker barrier.
Crimped Hairs Some wigs have crimped hairs along the netting to help give volume, but these crimped hairs can poke through the wig can irritate your head. Looking for higher quality wigs or wigs with less crimping can make a difference if these hairs are bothering you.
Gaps Wefted wigs tend to have gaps between the wefts, especially at the back. These gaps can allow some of the hairs to poke through and cause itching. You can get wigs without gaps but if that isn’t an option, giving your wig a comb through before wearing and checking the underside for any pokey hairs can help alleviate the issue.
Your Hair For a lot of people, your own hair can be the cause of itching, especially if you have itching while wearing a wig cap! If you have long hair then braiding or putting your hair up in ponytail can help prevent it from poking you, just make sure the ends are pointed away from your scalp. =For smaller hairs it helps to gel them down or use a bit of hairspray to hold them in place. I have shorter hair and find that putting my wig cap and wig on while my hair is damp relieves the issue.
Allergies It is possible that you could have allergies to either a product used to treat the fibers/ style the wig or even the wig fibers themselves. If you are getting a rash from the wig or other signs of an allergic reaction you should not wear the wig. You can attempt to wash the wig out at home or try different wig fibers to see if it makes a difference.
Used to it Sometimes itching just happens and it gets worse while wearing a wig because you can’t do anything about it! Sometimes it takes a bit of mind-over-matter to ignore the itching and the more you do it the easier it gets. That said, I am not above going to the washroom to take off the wig and give my head a good scratch when I really need to ;)
Second ficlet for @finnreyfridays, with the theme ‘reunion.’ I love these two so much please send help - also on ao3!
A tight cluster of blaster fire slammed against the
outcropping where Finn had just dived behind. The rock above his head burst
apart, sending down a shower of shale and dust. It coated his tongue and
throat, tiny irritating particles that refused to budge, distracting him from
his mission. He coughed and blinked furiously, his own blaster hot in his
hands. Sweat dripped down his back as he counted down his enemy’s clip – he didn’t
let himself think about the fact that he had probably grown up with whoever was
shooting at them. Whoever they were, they certainly didn’t care. They reached
the end and Finn sprang up, fired twice, and jerked back down.
Poe’s voice crackled in and out of static on Finn’s comms,
but the distortion the scramblers was too much for the device to handle. The
X-Wing flew low, splitting the air above Finn’s head. The heat from its engines
sent shivers down his back – and that was a clear enough signal. With Poe providing
air support Finn darted away from the outcropping and kept pushing forward.
Every breath was like jagged knives in his lungs, but they couldn’t wait for
another chance – they’d found the First Order before they found the Resistance.
They wouldn’t get another chance to take them down –
He felt it before
he heard it. There, off to his right, distant but unmistakable.
That sharp hum and snap of a lightsaber being activated.
Fear roiled around Finn’s stomach. He can’t be here, not Ren,
no, please – but he forced himself to turn to face that blood-red saber. He
was going to spit in Ren’s face before he cut him down. Finn readied his
blaster, swearing that he would take Ren down with him before the day was out.
It wasn’t Ren.
It was Rey.
Finn knew he was in the middle of a battle, that Poe was
coming around to escort him again, that he should be moving towards their target. Not sprinting
towards her, on the opposite side of
the field. That someone was aiming at him. Clumps of mud flew through the air
but Finn didn’t see them. Everything else had dimmed, muted, like someone had
paused the battle just for them.
She half-turned, like she had heard him – those three simple
buns were gone, now her hair hung to her shoulders – no one had told him where
she’d gone after he’d woken, not even Poe – those fierce eyes, that familiar snarl of her lips as she twisted the saber
deep into the gut of an unlucky stormtrooper. Then she saw him, Finn felt her recognize him, it was like a sudden tight grip on his heart–
She deactivated her saber and laughed – a high, pure sound
that rose above blaster fire and explosions that made Finn’s heart leap with
joy. And the next thing Finn knew, she was in his arms, kissing his lips and
jaw and nose and cheeks and every part of him that she could reach. And Finn
was pressing his lips onto her forehead, one arm snug around her waist where
Finn was dimly aware of an exasperated Poe begging them to focus, please.
He pulled back, stared at her, and grinned. “You came back.”
You can find my post explaining the 100 Day Drabble Challenge here
To view the masterlist of drabbles for the challenge, click here
Member: BamBam x Reader
Word Count: 711
“Let me come with you!”
“Because you’re a civilian and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
You pouted as you followed BamBam around the weapons room in the hideout. He was looking around and selecting certain weapons for a job that Jaebum had given him that morning.
“Can you at least tell me where you’re going?” you asked, throwing your hands up in exhaustion.
“No. And aren’t you supposed to be trying to escape? You’re technically still kidnapped, you know,” BamBam said over his shoulder as he looked at a shotgun with interest. You huffed and rolled your eyes, walking over to him and pouting.
“You know what I mean,” you said, gingerly but he simply ignored you and grabbed the weapons he had chosen while heading for the door.
“I’m leaving. Sit here and wait quietly. I’ll be back later,” he commanded, making you groan but follow his commands anyways.
As soon as BamBam left, he sighed and walked towards the truck. You hadn’t been with the gang very long, and you weren’t supposed to be there at all.
A few months ago, your parents had disappeared seemingly into thin air. A rival gang had come to your house, looking for them but BamBam’s gang had saved you instead, taking you to their hideout where you learned that your parents had been involved in some serious gang activity.
After that, the gang had kept you around for one reason alone – they needed your help in finding your parents. They were important to the gang and it was crucial that they be found. You had begun to have mixed feelings towards your parents as you realized how much you didn’t know about them, but you kept those feelings hidden.
But BamBam knew. He always seemed to be able to read your thoughts and tell what was on your mind. Maybe that’s why he was so good at what he did. To you, he was the only person in the gang that you could open up to about the way you were feeling. The only person that you could bare yourself too in spite of all the insanity that was happening.
But you were just a job.
He tried to remind himself of that every day. You were a citizen, not a gangster. You had no value to the group. It was your parents that the gang needed, not you.
And yet, BamBam had found himself wanting to spend more and more time with you each day. Whenever he looked at you and saw your smile he would forget, even for one moment, that he was a gang member. Instead, he would feel like a normal teenager once again with no worries other than his school work and who he thought was cute.
It was you, of course.
But he couldn’t confess. He didn’t dare to spend any more time with you than he was supposed to and he didn’t dare to tell anyone else of his emotions. You were his weakness, and to tell anyone else that would allow for them to have a means to exploit them
You were just a job.
And that was how it had to remain.
When he came home that night with the other members, his immediate thought was to find you. He knew you would be there because you had nowhere else to go. Your house had burned down when the rival gang tried to kidnap you, and you didn’t have any other family.
That didn’t stop his stomach from twisting at the possibility that you would one day be gone.
He found you, of course, snugged up in one of the blankets on a bean bag in the main room of the hideout. Jackson and Mark teased BamBam, but the latter just smiled and bounced over to you, feeling his excitement at your presence grow.
He bent down next to you and was about to wake you up when he realized how peacefully you were sleeping. He moved his hand forward to brush a piece of your hair away from your face, but didn’t wake you. Instead, he just smiled and let you sleep.
You were just a job. And yet you were so much more than that.
Sequel time! This is a sequel to Disney Princess Obsession, requested by the lovely @pegasusdragontiger, who wanted Chris and Sleeping Beauty to be reunited: “Sequel to Princess Obsession, She is cast in the next Avengers movie with Chris they are awkward and flirty with each other and do interviews together to promote the movie. In an interview the interviewer ask’s their favourite part or ride in Disneyland Chris of course answers as dot he fellow cast mates and everyone looks to her and she say’s she hasn’t been to Disneyland everyone ask’s why said well 1)her family never had the money and the other she hasn’t had time and Chris desides to take.”
So, I’ve got to ask, how has working together been since Chris’ epic humiliation after the Oscars?
‘Really dude? We’re really going to go here again?’ Flushed pink tinged Chris cheeks as he barked out an embarrassed laugh. It had taken weeks and weeks of hardcore charm offensive from him for you to drop your guard around him after his put his foot and most of his leg in his mouth when he met you on the press line at the Academy Awards, and then again when he was asked about you in an interview. And now in every interview on this fucking press tour, his massive blunder was brought up time after time.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places. what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?
a midwestern teenaged boy with an accent calls out into a soundless room.
dylan can hear his blood flowing and his heart thumping.
he calls out again. his voice is raw, plain. unsure. terrified.
dylan’s wearing his boston red sox baseball cap backwards. he’s shirtless, wearing a pair of skinny jeans that hug his legs snug. one of his combat boot laces are untied, and he can’t remember why.
eric sighs and his arms go from crossed to limp, letting them fall to his sides as he gets no response.
dylan keeps quiet and he’s sitting in his room, on a stool, facing an open window with no screen. he has a marlboro menthol in his hand, and as much as eric wants to push dylan out the fucking window and never deal with this again, he notices dylan lets a tear fall but yanks his head away from eric’s direction to try to hide it and save his pride.
eric feels guilty for once.
“look- i know. just talk to me or something. please-”
eric freezes. time stands still.
dylan looks at eric for the first time all day since he witnessed eric kissing some random blonde girl in the senior parking lot.
“i said. get out.”
“and? i’m not going to unless you call the cops and have me physically dragged outta here. i’m not leaving you. look, i’m sorry, okay?”
eric walks up to dylan, sitting on the windowsill and gently bringing dylan’s face closer as he kisses dylan’s salty tears away. dylan just obliges, deciding there’s no point in trying to object.
but- dylan keeps his eyes hooked on his carpet that’s growing a garden of his dirty clothes before whispering,
“why’d you do it?”
eric can’t look dylan in his eyes anymore as he speaks the truth. his gaze switches to his combat boots.
“it just happened. i can’t explain it, dylan. i swear to god she kissed me first, i just-”
“but you kissed her back.”
dylan’s eyes usually look like snowflakes, like baby blue frost on green blades of grass, like blue quartz. like diamonds.
right now they look like a raging ocean, you could see tidal waves attacking a sailboat inside of them. you could hear the wood shredding and the sail ripping in half.
dylan doesn’t know what to say, and eric stays silent, so he just takes a drag of his cigarette.
“you know something, eric?”
eric’s almost scared to respond. he expects dylan to push him out the window and that would be the end of him. he expects dylan to grab his knife out of his desk drawer and stab him in the heart. hell, he expects dylan to wrap his hands around his throat and watch the life drain from his eyes.
but he doesn’t.
dylan flicks his cigarette out the window and grabs eric by his waist, holding him on his lap and he kisses eric.
eric does exactly what he did with the girl in the senior parking lot, he kisses back, and he tangles his fingers in dylan’s hair, pulling on it rough.
“but you know for a fact she doesn’t taste as good as i do.”
dylan speaks between heavy breaths and eric’s wet lips.
eric grunts faintly in response and nods in agreement as dylan runs his hand up the back of his kmfdm shirt, pulling away for a split second to throw it across the room, getting lost in the sea of dylan’s clothes.
“you know you prefer the taste of cigarettes over cheap berry lip gloss that sticks to your face.” dylan mumbles, and he’s exactly right.
they make out with each other for a few more minutes until eric’s lips are swollen, and somehow they’ve ended up in dylan’s bed with a condom in his lanky hand, ripping it open.
eric stares up at dylan with eyes that look like a golden meadow that sways with the pattern of the wind at 6am, or sunflowers and bees getting along in a suburban backyard, or two yellow canaries perched on a tree branch, singing to each other.
dylan stops and stares, and he sees all three.
the angry ocean in dylan’s eyes starts to settle, and his tsunamis transform into soft beach waves crashing onto a sandy shore in the form of dylan’s hips pounding against eric’s.
maybe dylan forgives eric, or maybe the salt in his wounds just melted into sugar.
Another favorite passage in Jane Austen’s work (although it’s more of a one-liner) is from Sense & Sensibility–in which Elinor Dashwood encounters an insufferable mansplainer.
S & S is a story about a family of three daughters from a wealthy man’s second marriage. When their father dies, nearly all of his land and wealth is transferred to his son (from his first marriage)—leaving the four remaining women (widowed mother + daughters) with barely enough to live off of. No longer the owners of their palatial manor or able to afford an upper class lifestyle, they are kindly offered a small cottage by some distant cousins who heard of their dire straits and happen to need tenants for a vacant cottage on their estate. The cousins rent it to the Dashwood ladies for next to nothing and welcome them into their lives.
However, though the Dashwoods are more than grateful for the residence, the cottage itself is a far cry from their previous estate. It’s essentially a tiny, drafty house, and a constant reminder of the life and social status that they’ve lost. They charitably refer to it as “snug.”
Mrs. Jennings—one of the generous cousins—later decides that she will take Elinor and Marianne—the two eldest Dashwood daughters—to London to try to find them (fingers crossed: rich) husbands. One event in London the young women attend is a musical performance, where Elinor finds herself seated next to a very wealthy gentleman, Mr. Robert Ferrars, who, after hearing that she resides in a cottage in Devonshire, proceeds to expound on the virtues of cottage living, despite the fact that he most certainly lives in a castle-like estate.
Please imagine Elinor’s “how interesting” face as she endures this excellent example of early-19th century mansplaining:
“For my own part,” said Robert, “I am excessively fond of a cottage; there is always so much comfort, so much elegance about them. And I protest, if I had any money to spare, I should buy a little land and build one myself, within a short distance of London, where I might drive myself down at any time, and collect a few friends about me, and be happy. I advise every body who is going to build, to build a cottage. My friend Lord Courtland came to me the other day on purpose to ask my advice, and laid before me three different plans of Bonomi’s*. I was to decide on the best of them. ‘My dear Courtland,’ said I, immediately throwing them all into the fire, 'do not adopt either of them, but by all means build a cottage.’ And that I fancy, will be the end of it.
"Some people imagine that there can be no accommodations, no space in a cottage; but this is all a mistake. I was last month at my friend Elliott’s, near Dartford. Lady Elliott wished to give a dance. 'But how can it be done?’ said she; 'my dear Ferrars, do tell me how it is to be managed. There is not a room in this cottage that will hold ten couples, and where can the supper be?’ I immediately saw that there could be no difficulty in it, so I said, 'My dear Lady Elliott, do not be uneasy. The dining parlour will admit eighteen couples with ease; card-tables may be placed in the drawing-room; the library may be open for tea and other refreshments; and let the supper be set out in the saloon.’ Lady Elliott was delighted with the thought. We measured the dining-room, and found it would hold exactly eighteen couples, and the affair was arranged precisely after my plan. So that, in fact, you see, if people do but know how to set about it, every comfort may be as well enjoyed in a cottage as in the most spacious dwelling.”
The very next line:
“Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition.”
Jane Austen’s narration is THE BEST.
In fact, the narration in Austen’s novels is also a great reason to read her books, even if you’ve already seen the film adaptations. She gives herself many of the best lines.
(Side note: I imagine Marianne would have handled that facacta speech very differently.)
*Joseph Bonomi was a “fashionable, Italian-born, London architect,” according to George Holbert Tucker in his book Jane Austen the Woman: Some Biographical Insights (Palgrave MacMillian, 1995).
When Halloween comes around, the Bodega stocks up on candies and anything sweet, so Usnavi his living off a sugar rush for half the month.It’s decorated with cut out pumpkins and ghost that have probably been there since his parents ran the store. His decorations are the never change, but he makes sure to dress up differently every year. This year, not wanting to lose his hat, Usnavi centered his costume around that. (Yes, that is one rhyme he came up with to explain it). He’s a Newspaper boy, with a costume and make up all matching the look of a black and white photograph. After borrowing some make up from a terrifying Carla (we’ll get to that point later), his costumes complete. If you were to ask him who he was he say he’s Jack Kelly and begin humming Seize the Day.
Vanessa: With this year being so busy, Halloween snuck up on Vanessa like that! When she had time, she’d actually be very dedicated to finding the perfect costume, her personal favorite was Morticia Addams. But with only a week before the big day, she took a black bra and hat and borrowed Carla’s bedazzler. It’s not her best work and is kinda easy, but, still, when she saw herself in the mirror she couldn’t help but smile. After all, she was Selena!
Nina: As a kid, one of the few character’s Nina connected with almost identically was Hermoine Granger. Who else knew how it felt to be the smartest one with all those stresses and responsibilities? And when she read she also shared the crazy hair trait she flipped out! So one doesn’t have to be Hermoine to figure out why she’s dressed as her, from the curls to the time turner.
(picture of Hermione is from @str0ng3rbrit, check her out, she’s apart of medblr!)
Benny: Growing up Benny had the best show stopper outfits for Halloween. He was MCHammer. He was Andre 3000. And who can forget the year he was Madea?! But as an adult it’s easy to lost track of the days, even the holidays, especially when you’re working on those days. Last year he was lucky enough to remember to bring a bow tie. And with a bad British accent, he stated James Bond. But after driving people around all day he felt less like 007 and more like a cross between Jeffrey from the Fresh Prince and Morgan Freeman from Driving Miss Daisy. This year he didn’t even remember it was Halloween, until after he was dressed in his uniform. Luckily, with Nina’s wit and her borrowed flag pin he became his next best (and easiest) costume. And that is how Benny got the nickname, El Presidente.
Halloween is Sonny’s favorite holidays. He has a lot of Halloween Spirit. No matter how old he is he still goes trick-or-treating. Even if he can’t afford the expensive makeup or costumes, he still finds a way to go all out. He’s known for his homemade costumes. He’s also known for going too far, and getting too preachy. How is that possible? Trust me it’s possible. This year he wears glasses and a red and white stripped shirt and hat. So it’s understandable why from behind everyone assume’s he’s “Where’s Waldo”, right? Wrong. If he were to turn around you’d see Sonny cut out big black felt letters and hot glued them on to the shirt, spelling out: “Bernie’s Votes”. Making himself: “Where’s Bernie’s Votes” Yep. Somehow he was able to dress as a political question for Halloween. Little to say, it irks Usnavi to no end.
Pete: Like Sonny Halloween is also Pete’s favorite holiday. Not for the candy, it’s just easier to tag and paint on Halloween. And every year he has a job to do to pay off a debt. With so many people on the streets and so many people hooded, it just makes things simpler for the crazy life of an artist. Now even though Pete is artistic, he’d rather put effort into his work rather than his appearance, so he’s rather not have to dress up. However the only way he can blend into a crowd, if need be, is in a some kind of costume. He’s famous for his hoodies and tee shirts with tuxedos and bones printed on it. He always wears some kind of mask to protect him from the fumes. That’s all. No make up. If he’s going to be painting he’d rather paint a wall than he’s face. And he needs something he can easily ditch if need be.
Carla: For Carla, Halloween is the only holiday that can give Christmas a run for it’s money. And it’s because how involved she is with the process of her costume. Here, she can put her make up and sewing skills to the test. With a search history full of Michelle Phan tutorials and a wastebasket full of receipts for the fabric store she has a costume. Each costume each year is, contrary to what most people expect, somewhat creepy. Some how, she finds a way to scare Usnavi along the way. Last year she was a broken vintage doll, which still gives him the creeps; this year it’s Emily for the Corpse Bride.
Daniela: Even if Dani never intendeds it, it seems that every Halloween her costume is always a “Sexy” something. She never means it to be. She usually goes to the store two weeks before Halloween and picks out the cheapest generic costume there. Every time, the hemlines just seem to be a little short and the bust a little snug. Of course no one is offended or anything, that just happens to be her style. This year she’ll be passing out candy as a witch.
Kevin: Whenever Halloween comes around, Kevin always acts annoyed and grumpy. “I have to buy Candy?” “Cami, Why do we even have to dress up?” However, He really does enjoy it. His favorite thing is thinking of his and Camila’s matching outfits, though, of course, he gives her the credit for that.
His personal favorite is Father Time and Mother Nature Two months prior to October he’s already thinking of ideas. This year they both are Famous Artists. He is slicked his hair back, put on a suit, and adhered a fake wiry mustache to his upper lip. He hold a melted clock in his hand as his pocket watch. He’s Salvador Dalí.
Camila: To join complement Kevin’s artist’s theme, Camila pencils in the between her eyebrows and braids flowers into her hair. A shawl covers her shoulders, and with red lips and dangling earrings, she is the beloved Frida Kahlo. When Kevin and her open the door for the trick-or-treaters, he always rearranges his mustache in some crazy way to get a reaction. However, Cami seems to be the one who gets the most reactions. The majority of the grown ups love her outfit, but a lot of the kids look up the one giving them candy in fear… All Cami can think is that have nothing to be afraid of yet…
When Abuela was still here, her favorite thing to do on Halloween was wait until 10 o’ clock. Then she’d appear, dressed in a black dress from wrist to ankle, a veil cloaking her. She’d then mimic moaning and crying and walk down the street, scaring any troublemaker out of there street and back to their mother. Now Cami has decided to honor Abuela and continue the legend of the barrio. Reigniting the nightmares of the stories mothers would whisper to children at night, she then would become La LLorona!
Piragüero: In order to stir up some business in the colder months, the piragüero decided to allow a customer of each purchase to be allowed to write in a suggestion for what he dress up as. Beforehand he always wore a Chewbacca suit each year, until some kid (Pete) started the rumor that he wasn’t the beloved Chewie, but the dreaded Chupacabra. That was one year he’d didn’t think he see a kid all day. With that massive loss of Business he had to step up his game, which brought around the vote. Everyone in the Barrio talks about it all October. With the amount of profit he got, the piragüero was able to make a small gift bag of candy to his most valued customers, the ones who voted multiple times. Every Halloween he goes around the barrio, delivering his thank you bags while dressed in the most voted for outfit. Along the way he gives everyone he comes across the little strawberry candy. This year, he’s El Chapulín Colorado.
Even that soccer player couldn’t bend it like this… Getting rough with this sheet of 18ct Yellow Gold for one of my favourite designs. This has a beautiful 1.28ct Australian Parti Sapphire sitting snug to one side.
You came to the party with Honey, and figured it was coincidence that you met up with the rest of the Nerd Gang, including Tadashi, who you rarely ever saw at Frat Parties. He was hatless, a small smirk of amusement playing at his perfect lips as he watched Fred talk to a group of girls. Taking a sip of his beer, Tadashi gazzed up, his dark, almond shaped eyes catching hold of yours as his smirk turned into a smile of joy. “I thought you didn’t come to Frat Parties.” He said to you, handing you a beer from the cooler behind him. You took it with gracious hands, muttering a small ‘thanks’ and taking in the small breeze that seemed to saunter its way in threw the open windows and doors.
“I could say the same to you, Hamada.” Chuckling softly at his perplexed expression, one that shouted, ‘touche’, you took a drink of your beer and sat down next to him. The music was beating, enticing your feet to move up and down with the rhythm Tadashi shifted beside you, so he was sitting on the couch, rather than on the couch arm like he had been before.. Admiring his warmth, you began watching Fred as well, making small comments back and forth between with Tadashi.
And, that’s where the evening started, around 9 PM.
And even now, a late, or very early 2 AM, you were unsure of how you got tangled into the threads of Spin the Bottle. You’d see Fred kiss GoGo already, which in itself, was a rather amusing site, whether you were drunk or not. Uncertain if Fred, who was a bit more smashed than the rest of you, was going to remember the kiss tomorrow, you took the empty beer glass from the middle and held it cautiously, admiring the bright brown glass that was gleaming int he semi-dimmed lightening.
Feeling the smooth glass in your hand, you looked at Honey who simply gave you a friendly grin, “Go on, just spin it, (Name)!” Her voice was slightly slurred, but not as badly as yours was; she just didn’t drink as much as you had. Setting the glass down, you gave a push and began watching it twirl, Fred and GoGo snapping out of their conversation, curious to see who the bottle was going to land on. Watching it spin around, you came to realize that the bottle was one of yours, from at least half an hour ago before you asked Tadashi to open another one.
The conversations and noise that were beaming around you, for you were sitting on the floor of a dormitory kitchen which was specked with the few lingering souls who still wanted to party, was tuned out as Fred looked at you with rasied eyebrows, telling you silently that the bottle landed on him. But, you weren’t sure who it was going to land on, and you felt your heart beating, your sweaty palsm pressing against your jean covered thighs as it began slowing down,passing GoGo, then Honey, Wasabi and finally landing snug on the one person you hoped it didn’t choose.
Afraid to look up and meet the dark eyes of Tadashi, you continued to stare at the bottle, wondering if perhaps, your mind was playing drunken tricks on you, and it was still going to move. But, no such luck, and the bottle stayed peeled on Tadashi. He didn’t have it in himself to say anything either, or so it seemed as he stared, wide eyed and wordlessly at the bottle along side with you. “(Name)?” Honey finally spoke, her voice soft. “Y’know how to play this game right? Y’gotta kiss…”
“Tadashi.” Your voice came out as more of a puff of air, sounding like his name, rather than an actual voice. The man beside you noticeably perked up at the sound of you saying his name in such a fashion and let his eyes shift to you.
“(Name).” Tadashi replied, pressing a finger to your chin and coaxing you to look at him. You complied to the small, speak-less gesture and finally let your eyes look into his own, an apparent blush raiding your cheeks and the tip of your ears with hot flashes of pink. “If you don’t wanna then you can sk-”
You weren’t quite aware of where the sudden spark of confidence came from as you lunged forward, your mouth pressing against his in a feverish manner. Eyes widening for split moment, Tadashi looked down at you, the feeling of your lips against his surreal as he kissed back, his calloused fingers coming up to cup the back of your head. Moaning breathlessly as his digits swung and buried themselves into your hair, you sat up straight and pressing your still dampened palms against his thighs, fingernails digging into the brown fabric gently as Tadsahi tilted his head to the side, desperate to make the kiss last longer, and to deepen the affection.
It’s the alcohol, you told yourself, your mouth pulling away from his for only a brief second to catch your breath before you were molding your lips against his once again. That’’s all it is, that’s why this feels so perfect… So natural…
Someone cleared their throat. “Do you guys… like… Need a room?” It was GoGo, her voice semi-amused by the scene in front of her.
Tadashi was the first to pull away, hesitantly as he hovered his perky mouth above yours for a few seconds longer than needed. But, before either of you could speak, Fred was blurting out, “Okay, wow. Two nerds kissing. I didn’t know you had that in you Tadashi. Interesting.”
Honey tilted her head and nodded in agreement to Fred’s words, adding on in an excited voice. “That. WAS. So ROMANTIC! OH MY GOD, ARE YOU GOING TO START DATING!? CAN i BE A BRIDESMAID AT YOUR WEDDING? OH MY GOD!!!” She rambled, typical of a drunk Honey. You’d only seem her like this once before, and you figured she’d had something else to drink in the time since you’ve started the game.
Tadashi swallowed thickly and looked down at you with dilated eyes, his hands touching your fore arms slightly as he started to conjure up what he wanted to say to you. “I uh…” He tried to say something, but found himself stumbling over his words. He was sure it was out of nerves though, rather than the alcohol that was surging through his body. “Kiss.”
“Kiss.” You repeated and tucked some of your hair back bashfully.
“Fred and GoGo didn’t share such an…”
“Exciting kiss.” You finished his sentence.
“Yeah…” He mumbled, “I guess the proper thing for me to do is to… Uhm… Ask you out… Because wow… You’re good at kissing, and you’re really pretty and wow…” Tadashi paused and rubbed the back of his head with his left hand. “I’ve uh… Liked you for a long time and I never found a moment to ask you out until now and wow… I wanna kiss you again…” He was everywhere, his tone, his thoughts as his eyes dropped and looked down at your lips once again. Licking his own, Tadashi brought his eyes back up to meet yours.
“I’d… Really like that… I’ve had a thing for you for a long time too….” You admitted quietly.
“FINALLY!” Honey gasped dramatically. “I HAVE BEEN WAITING 3 YEARS, AND YOU TWO ARE FINALLY GETTING TOGETHER!” She grasped Fred’s shoulder excitingly. “DO YOU SEE THIS?! OH MY GOD, WE NEED PICTURES!”
You had no time to argue as the Latina pulled her phone out and began snapping random and excited looking pictures, exclaiming one last time, this time in Spanish, “OH DIOS MÍO!!!!”
“Hyung,” Minho’s worried face floated into Onew’s sight as soon as he stepped out of the shower. “Kibum is missing…”
“Oh…” was all the leader could produce. He walked around the other, running a set of fingers through his hair to dry it out. “Maybe he’s at home?” It was obvious to everyone at the dorm that Key preferred his own brand-new apartment in the poshest section of Apgujeong. He liked it better than the company apartment–it allowed more room for him and his dogs. And he liked to brag about it by entertaining his friends there every week.
If he wasn’t there, he was probably elsewhere. It didn’t really matter. Key wasn’t a child, and Onew wasn’t a babysitter.
“No, I went there and he didn’t answer the door!” Minho fretted. The one most affected by their band member’s move because, according to him, it was a symbol of them growing apart; going their separate ways. Minho was too naive for his own good. “I’ve been calling him all day and he never answered! Look—” A number was picked off of speed-dial #2 (1 was probably reserved for Minho’s elder brother, he was just a sentimental fool like that) and, sure enough, after a single bell the call was declined.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you?” Onew raised a reasoning eyebrow, trying desperately to get out of this conversation.