Lovers Roulette. TEASER

Lovers’ Roulette. ⭒ TEASER

The way grief blooms can only be compared to something like a flower: a heart-shaped wound that can never fully close, held together with a thin protective layer of stardust gathered through out time.

For grief to be unexpressed love: in its’ most painful yet pure form, always wanting more.

The only thing that cuts through love.

But what of the people who cause grief?

Those who stampede their way through, never bothering to look back toward the fault lines they’d left behind. The heartless abandoning the rest of them in the hourglass of their past and broken memories.

There are rules to these kinds of people.

Never think where you are or what comes next— let go of the need to know and everything tends to fall into place.

Know that it is okay to dream, to allow your higher self to take care of the rest as you wash the blood off of your hands. This is only temporary.

And if something— someone— is calling you, answer.

Even if it bursts out of your chest like a trapped bird set free, you must follow it.

When all of your instincts are kicking and fighting against you like a wild caged animal, allow those hands to calm the tremors and let the light in.

It may be the only time you’ll be able to bask in it.

There is always something between you and love. A closed door, an endless corridor. Flames burning higher and higher until they cover you whole.

Maybe in some universe you are under the lamppost at dusk, he can see you across the road, arms above your head waving hello with a smile.

Is it summer or are you still in spring? It wouldn’t matter then.

In his chest, something crashes hard as a head-on collision.

But in reality, you grow further away like gravity turned on its side, he is up, and you will always be down.

The feeling of falling you had forgotten and tried to bury beneath the years has reared its’ head.

“Do you see me still, my dear? Do you trust yourself now?”

“Does it make you smile to know you were right about me all along? Or somewhere deep down, does it kill you?”

⭒ home. ➔ masterlist.

cool with you. ⭒ TEASER

The players were annoying. Almost as annoying as the squeaking of their shoes on the gymnasium floor or the grating sound of spikes hitting the floor.

Eyes narrowed and focused, feet stood apart tall and determined as the arrow is pulled back to precision and then— an eruption of cheers as it slips just past its’ target.

Surely it couldn’t be your fault, it was just a flaw in your environment. A terribly annoying, loud distracting flaw.

That’s what you had told yourself but no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself, the inescapable truth was that it was your own lack of skill.

Maybe that was how you wound up sitting uncomfortably close to him on the nurses’ table, staring down at the bruises on your knees.

You’d expected some sort of taunt but instead were only met with the sound of shifting before something was being held out to you. A strawberry milk.

“For your… bones! Uh— for hydration! Gotta stay.. hydrated.”

For the first time in a while, you laughed. It wasn’t the incessant nagging or humiliation you had expected but instead some sort of meek attempt at caring for you, a complete stranger.

The peaks and valleys of your days, like the line of a pulse shooting up so high, you thought nothing would ever touch you again when he looked at you in that moment.

That day broke like a ray of sun on rain; hope that pierced your heart like an arrow, leaving you with an incurable ache.

⭒ home. ➔ masterlist.

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ ID: RIIZE

genre key : (o) one-shot . fluff (f) . angst (a) . humor (h) . comfort (c) . (s) series . + personal favorites (♡)

CALLER ID: RIIZE.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: osaki shotaro.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: song eunseok.

✧ misadventures. (f)

CALLER ID: jung sungchan.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: park wonbin.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: hong seunghan.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: lee sohee.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: lee anton.

✧ wip.

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ ID: SEVENTEEN

genre key : (o) one-shot . fluff (f) . angst (a) . humor (h) . comfort (c) . (s) series . + personal favorites (♡)

CALLER ID: SEVENTEEN.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: choi seungcheol.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: yoon jeonghan.

✧ we’ll be okay. (f) (c)

CALLER ID: hong jisoo.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: wen junhui.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: kwon soonyoung.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: jeon wonwoo.

✧ while you were sleeping. (f) (c)

CALLER ID: lee ji-hoon.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: lee dokyeom.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: kim mingyu.

✧ white christmas. (f) (h) (c)

CALLER ID: xu minghao.

✧ mind of an artist. (f)

CALLER ID: boo seungkwan.

✧ wip.

CALLER ID: hansol vernon chwe.

✧ friendly neighborhood film debate. (f) (h)

CALLER ID: lee chan.

✧ wip.

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

rainy days. ⭒ drabble

There was always something sentimental about the rainy spring days you spent with and without Jake.

Somewhere on a sidewalk, he would hand it to you as your hands brushed.

An umbrella, your grip around it tightening as the rain beats down on his tanned skin. For some reason that you couldn’t quite place, he smiled.

The world would collapse around you as he fell into you for the first time, nose red and suddenly shaking in the cold.

You had a new found love for the rain after that and you found any excuse to dance in it, wondering if he’d rush to provide shelter for you once again.

Each and every time without fail, he’d meet you with that endearing smile and eyes that seemed to hold the world.

“What are you, crazy?!” He’d ask.

You’d simply shake the rain off at him as his arms wrap around you. Wet and stuck together, inevitably.

Somewhere on a bathroom floor lying among the ruins of your love, you’re trying to pick yourself up again.

And little do you know, somewhere in an old abandoned ship on a distant star— they've just heard your cry for the first time. Shaking and broken, something like your own heart.

If sound can go on forever: then why can't your love?

It was strange how you began to miss paw prints tracking mud inside as much as you missed the sun.

You fell asleep once more to the rain and the sun came to you in a dream— beaming down on you, sweeter than anything.

Maybe there was a chance that you’d meet in the next life, your brain had tried to convince you with a voice that you once knew.

One day he would woke up and with every breath, he’d thought of you.

When he said nothing went wrong with you both; you had just let go. But for him— you were eternal.

If you were to choose a season, you would go back to that Spring.

No matter how intimately you were sure that you had known him, you couldn’t quite figure out what he would choose. It wasn’t as if you could ask him anymore, maybe that was what left any answers up in the air.

If you were to ask him what he would choose: the golden dunes of summer, wild and free or the quiet breath of winter-trees bare and stark.

Would it be spring's flowers and her honeybees?

Maybe he would choose the same April showers you had cherished so deeply.

There was good in every season— how you swam in the ocean or walked in the park. How he would race you to catch the sunset before it grew dark in the fall.

What pages of the calendar would he mark? Would he choose the same?

By the time your eyes fluttered open, it was already daylight. Outside your window, it had been raining forever and then the sun came quietly back.

Arms wrapped around your waist where they belonged, head buried into your neck.

“You’re awake, already?” His voice was coarse and scratchy from having just woke up, but you could feel his smile against your skin.

With the sun having returned home and your heart full of light, you knew that you would still choose Spring: the season that he came back to you.

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

hayyyy… 😘😘ur new theme is so cutesy btw im going to bake it at a crisp 400°f for 10-12 minutes and decorate it lovingly while look at me by twice plays and then eat it all.

MY LOVE HAS RETURNED FROM THE WAR !!! thank you bff i tried very hard on it so i hope you enjoy the sweet, velvety taste of my blood sweat and tears (˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡