#AND IT'S SO CLOSE TO ENDING AND I'M EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT

[theladybrownstarot]

Pick-A-Card : Why will your future spouse choose you ? ✧°•

✧ Here's my masterlist for more !

✧ Make sure you like/follow/Comment/reblogg for more pacs like these !

Pick-A-Pile : Here's a new pick card reading for you all ! So close your eyes and breathe in and out then choose pile(s) attracting you most . This is a general reading so it may resonate and not , my readings are not the universal truth so make your decisions wisely 🖤✨️

✧ Pile 1.

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's begin with your reading:

Your future spouse choose you because among all you were the one who didn't pay a lot attention to his charm and ignored him ,according to them you seem to be playing to get hard. I see that you two have similar thoughts making you compatible all around with each other also I see that they already thought to choose you long before you even know them but they didn't knew how to approach you and confess their feeling . I'm getting that they are someone who are new and someone you don't know at all most probably. This is hilarious and cute at the same time because you are in their thoughts everytime , they feel that undeniable connection with you . I see some south-east or north guy/girl in this reading too and possibly that you may have short to medium hair or wear specs or they may have sharp eyes and wear specs- an extra information chanelled . Your future spouse actually feels safe with you emotionally ; respecting and understanding them like no one ever did before. They feel to immerse with you only and around you they can open up fully without any insecurity. There's this sharp clarity about you they have that they want you only in their life , no matter what happens so wow go getter energy .

✧ Pile 2

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading:

The first thing that I chanelled I was very funny like you had be someone that might be or will be the one who will be a lot pressured by your future spouse to handle their errands like this person needs you like mostly to get their work done or they will just throw some work on you and that's the first main reason why they had choose you- they want to depend on someone because they are lazy and dramatic as hell. At the same time I see that do respect you a lot and admire you for you being you and letting them grow with you this is the vision that they basically have about you. You are their litreal trophy or that jackpot . I see that they may self esteem issues but you had be helping them up to change totally. I see that this person might be an over achiever and at some not a lot recognised for their hardwork and because of this they ended up loosing a lot in life but you will or got them up. They choose you because you directed and supported them a lot in their harsh times . They believe in themselves more when you are with them , they will that they would achieve the whole world by being with you also they had be a bit rebellious and masculine person for same .

✧ Pile 3.

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading :

They had literally state so many reason like they love you unconditionally for sure ! The cards just felt out like wonders everytime I was shuffling. You are blessed for sure . I feel that after you met your spouse either one of you met with some financial gains and changes as per what I can sense and say . Your future spouse choose you because you healed them emotionally basically from their experiences and the traumas they had , you showed them the light and hope altogether. They already saw the signs around again when and after they met making them sure out of no where that you had be the one who won't leave him . This pile has got some very emotional energy . I Channeled a hindi song - jeena sikha diya marna sikha diya . I'm getting that they were outcasted in their life and no one accepted them other than you because you had a pure heart and I also heard black magic for you or him . They chose you because you complete them .

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

©️ @theladybrownstarot 2023 all rights reserved. Any stealing or copying of work will be a punishable offence.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Could I please request Spencer & Fem Reader based on the episode 9x24 when he gets shot and reader is super worried about him so is comforting him and doing all she can to make sure he’s ok and just fretting over him and on the jet she’s helping him in and just sitting with him next to the couch, brushing his hair so he sleeps. Just lots of cuddles. Maybe overbearing for Spencer because he’s not used to being the one taken care of since it’s usually vise versa. Thanks!!

Wounds: Physical & Emotional

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt

Warnings/Includes: aftermath of Spencer getting shot, reader being overbearing, Spencer snapping, no happy ending

Word count: 2.1k

a/n: hiii i hope this is okay <33 i needed some angst so this was perfect

main masterlist

The atmosphere in the hospital room was filled with a quiet tension, the sterile smell of antiseptics mingling with the dull hum of machines. Spencer lay there, eyes half-open, a little pale and looking both exhausted and grateful just to be alive. His neck, wrapped in fresh bandages, still bore the marks of his ordeal, a stark reminder of how close he’d come to something irreversible.

You stood by his bedside, fingers gently resting on the thin hospital blanket, as if the mere act of touching it could somehow channel some of your strength to him. You'd been pacing the hallway for what felt like hours, running through every worst-case scenario, but finally seeing him, hearing the faint sound of his breathing steady and rhythmic—it brought a wave of relief so overwhelming it nearly took you to your knees.

As his eyes fluttered open, a soft but tired smile curved on his lips when he saw you there. “You… you really didn’t have to stay,” he murmured, his voice a bit strained, weakened from both the injury and the exhaustion that came with it.

You shook your head immediately, your hand instinctively reaching for his, fingers wrapping around his gently. “Don’t even say that, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, each word infused with the worry you’d been bottling up since the moment you’d found out he’d been hurt. “There’s nowhere else I would be. You… I was so scared.”

He squeezed your hand weakly, his thumb tracing a small, reassuring pattern against your knuckles. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know... I know how it must've felt, seeing me like that."

“No, no,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. None of this was your fault. You just… you’re always putting yourself out there for everyone else, and… Spencer, I can’t lose you. Not like that.”

His gaze softened as he looked up at you, the slight sheen of tears glistening in your eyes. He’d seen you in countless stressful situations, through endless cases and late-night work sessions, but this—this was different. “I’m still here,” he assured, his voice barely above a whisper, but steady. “I’m still here.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingering, just relieved to feel the warmth of his skin beneath them. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that,” you replied, your voice catching. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if I’d get to.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, letting himself be comforted by your presence. The weight of what he’d been through hung between you both, unspoken yet deeply felt. It was as though your silent worry, your prayers for his survival, had wrapped around him, bringing him back.

“Are you… are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper, but still filled with all the care and concern that had carried you through those agonizing hours of waiting.

He chuckled softly, a little hoarse, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he shook his head. “Just having you here is… more than enough,” he replied, his hand squeezing yours a little more firmly, a silent acknowledgment of how much it meant to him that you’d stayed, that you were there.

Your hand drifted from his forehead to his cheek, your thumb softly tracing the edge of his jaw, and for a moment, he simply closed his eyes, letting himself rest, letting himself lean on you.

“Promise me,” you said softly, breaking the quiet that had settled over you both. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time, that… that you won’t go scaring me like this again.”

He opened his eyes, looking up at you, a small, apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “But you know me…”

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile of your own finally breaking through the worry. “Yeah, I do,” you murmured, shaking your head fondly. “Which is exactly why I’ll be here, making sure you keep that promise.”

—

Your concern for Spencer had taken on a life of its own, a constant, consuming presence that followed him from the hospital back to work and even into the comfort of his own home. Every glance his way was laden with worry, every touch a check for signs of strain or pain, an endless stream of small but deeply attentive gestures. It seemed you couldn’t stop yourself from fretting over him, as if that watchful care alone could ensure his safety and recovery.

On the jet, you were never far from his side. When he tried to settle into the couch, you followed, bringing a small pillow and blanket, making sure he was comfortable, even sitting right beside him as if to act as a physical buffer against anything that might cause him pain. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” you whispered for what felt like the tenth time, fingers gently brushing a stray curl from his forehead. You stayed close, sometimes pulling a chair beside him, sometimes gently brushing your fingers through his hair in a rhythm that would lull him to sleep. Every time he shifted or opened his eyes, he found you right there, watching him with that same blend of worry and tenderness.

But back at home, your concern reached new levels. You simply couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him to fend for himself—not after what he’d just gone through. Any movement he made was met with your insistent, gentle intervention. “No, no,” you’d say softly but firmly when he reached for the coffee pot or attempted to carry anything from the kitchen. “I’ve got it. You’re supposed to be resting.” You’d guide him back to the couch or bed, a hand on his shoulder as if you thought he might collapse any moment if left unattended.

He found himself surrounded by the constant reminders of your care: you’d already brought him fresh coffee, placed his favorite books within easy reach, even left snacks and water close by. You practically fussed over him like he was made of glass, which at first he found touching. There was an odd but comforting warmth in how your love translated into these little gestures of support.

In the quiet intimacy of his apartment, you’d taken to accompanying him into the bathroom, even the shower, ensuring he was never alone. “I just… I can’t bear to leave you alone yet,” you’d said with a nervous laugh the first time, reaching for his hand. “It makes me feel better, okay?” 

Spencer, both surprised and touched, had reluctantly agreed, though he couldn’t deny the awkwardness. You watched him carefully as he bathed, helping him wash himself, bringing him his towel, even brushing his hair afterward with the same attention you give every one of his movements. 

Every small thing, even the routine act of bathing, became a moment for you to ensure his well-being. And while it was comforting, he found himself increasingly confined by your constant care.

Finally, it became too much. Spencer, who had always prided himself on his independence, was beginning to feel suffocated, trapped by the very love that usually gave him comfort and strength. He’d always been the one to look after others, the quiet pillar of support, and the sudden inversion had been tolerable at first. But as the days wore on, he found himself unable to breathe under the weight of it.

One evening, after yet another shower where you hovered nearby, he reached a breaking point. Just as he reached for the towel, he looked up seeing you already holding it, his face was now laced with frustration and fatigue. “Can’t you… can’t you just give me a little space?” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended, sharp enough to startle you.

The words hung in the air, and you looked at him, taken aback by the sudden tension in his voice. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident as he struggled to put his feelings into words. “I know you’re worried about me—I know. But you won’t even let me bathe alone,” he continued, his tone edged with an exasperation that mirrored how he felt. “I can’t even think for five minutes without you hovering!”

You took a shaky breath, hurt and confusion clouding your expression as you tried to process his outburst. “I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said softly, your voice breaking with the vulnerability you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

Spencer’s gaze never softened, “I know you’re worried, and I want to appreciate it, I do. But I need time to myself. I need to feel like I can still do something without help. I need space from you!” he raised his voice again.

You flinched as your heart sank, realizing how tightly you’d been holding on to the fear of losing him, how it had manifested in every act of love, every worried glance, every touch that you’d thought was comforting. You nodded, stepping back a little, trying to offer him the space he so clearly needed. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. “I… I’ll give you that space.”

As you quietly closed the bathroom door behind you, Spencer felt a calmness settle over him, a rare feeling of unencumbered space. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how much the attention—though well-meaning and deeply appreciated—had begun to weigh on him, like an invisible net keeping him grounded. The soft click of the door seemed to signal a return to normalcy, to a routine he thought he’d lost somewhere in the haze of his injury.

But what he didn’t realize was how deeply his outburst had hurt you, how you’d clung so desperately to the idea of keeping him safe, only to feel dismissed, even resented, for the very care you’d thought he needed.

Spencer felt lighter as he brushed his hair, each stroke a small declaration of independence. He took his time shaving, enjoying the familiar ritual. He finished, splashing cold water on his face, feeling as if he’d reclaimed a part of himself, a small but significant piece of control.

Satisfied, he wrapped himself in a fresh towel and stepped into the bedroom, thinking of nothing but how good it felt to finally be able to tend to himself. But the moment he crossed the threshold, a chill settled over him. His eyes flicked to the small armchair in the corner, the one that had become a fixture for your bag during your stayover, always waiting quietly, a reminder of your presence and your watchful care. Except now, the chair sat empty. Your bag was gone.

His heart stilled, a sinking feeling creeping into his chest. Quickly, he threw on clothes, barely fastening the buttons of his shirt before moving through the apartment, calling out your name, his voice echoing through the silent rooms. “Y/N?”

He stepped into the living room, glancing around in hopes you were just out of sight, maybe near the kitchen or just down the hall. But there was no answer, no sound, just an aching quiet that pressed in on him like a vise.

“Y/N!” he called again, louder this time, almost pleading. But the silence that met him felt crushing. His mind whirled with dread, memories of the sharpness in his tone, the flash of hurt in your eyes just before you’d turned away. The realization of what he’d done, what he’d said, crashed over him with a painful clarity. In his desperate need for solitude, he hadn’t stopped to consider what his words might mean to you, hadn’t thought of how they might cut deep after all you’d done to care for him.

The hollow ache in his chest grew as he scanned the empty room, his mind replaying each moment you’d been there, every touch, every comforting smile. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, the gentle brush of your fingers through his hair. The thought that you might’ve left, might have taken that warmth and devotion with you, was more terrifying than anything he’d faced in the field.

His voice softened, almost a whisper, as he spoke into the empty room, “Please, don’t go.” But the quiet, unyielding silence lingered, leaving him alone with the weight of his words, and he realized that maybe, just maybe, he’d pushed away the one thing he truly needed.

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

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[fallbhind]

‘OH SWEET 'N SOUR LEMONS’ RAFE CAMERON

genre smut wordcount 2k

“we can work on it”

─── content warnings ,, dilf!rafe, old!rafe, young!reader, fem!reader, unprotected sex (wrap that shit 'fore you tap it), oral (m! receiving) p in v, slight tit play, more of 'make up' or 'i'm sorry' sex rather than it coming from real emotions, aftercare tho.

─── authors note ,, so erm first time writing about rafe so take the dilf daddy version him and hide him in your closet.

per usual, another fucking (typical) stupid argument with rafe because you wanted to hang out but he had his kids that weekend, so he was busy. sure, you typically wouldn't mind, but his ex-wife was totally slacking on her duties, and maybe you thought that because you were almost a decade younger than rafe, but he'd been stuck with the kids for almost a month with no break.

it wasn't fair. but you knew that bitch-of-an-ex was doing it out of spite because he found someone younger, hence, you.

you were helping the kids to bed, in the maze of tanneyhill, you led them to their bed room. "in your beds." you said softly, tucking them both in one at a time. you pressed a soft kiss onto his little girls head.

with a flick of the light, the dark room was instantly lighted with the ladybug night light plugged into the wall, "night." you muttered to the two, leaving the door cracked. you were a good stepmother, a stark reminder in you and the children's relationship. you'll never be able to replace their real momma, but you can try.

rafe was rewinding after a long day. flicking through every channel as you settled on the couch, the couch dipping underneath your weight. rafe constantly fiddled with the ring on his finger, which reminded him more of his dad every. single. day. after a few minutes of dwelling on the animal planet channel, he switched it, before deciding to switch off the tv. you both saw your reflections. rafe's pouting expression, and your even poutier expression.

he turned the tv back on, disliking the fact he could just see his reflection in the tv, as well as yours as the screen went to black. the soft flicker of the tv coming back on, you drew your attention to it.

"mm." rafe said gruffly, a poor attempt to start even the slightest conversation with you. you let out a soft grunt back, initially saying he could continue. "'m sorry about earlier." he said quietly, not to mention quickly.

you nodded softly, turning to look at him as he scratched his fingers into his freshly shaved buzz cut. not even going to lie, he looked oh so good in his blue-white button up shirt. "me too." you whispered back, going back to whatever was playing on tv, feigning you were actually interested.

you nervously played with the drawstring off your jacket. you were more of a carefree person with a hobo-ish style. and it fit rafe just fine. "nothin' good is on." you said admittedly, turning your head towards rafe, unconsciously moving closer to him.

he shifted slightly, his arms welcoming you in his hold. you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. rafe's arm calmly laid across your shoulder, weighing you down slightly. you pulled your legs off the ground, pulling yourself closer to rafe. that was the main difference between rafe and his ex and you and rafe. you and him got over arguments, while rafe and his ex tended to go with out talking. maybe it was just your attachment issues with him you couldn't stay mad, or you didn't want him to say he wanted to break up because sure, the sex was good, but at the end of the day, you always wanted to be a mother to his kids rather than leaving.

"your a good co-parent." rafe whispered into your head, referring to when he flew a few not so friendly insults towards you and trying to replace his ex. sure, that's really what you were trying to do, but it didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt when he called you out on it. maybe that was partially you didn't want to face the reality of the doubts you could ever replace his girls mother. but you can try. she wasn't even a good mom in the first place, you thought to yourself, and you weren't wrong.

you nodded softly when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "i know i am." you said back to him. he rollled his eyes at the oh so bratty comment back to what he told you. "brat" he mumbled to you.

after a boring thirty minutes, rafe opted to go lay down, he left you alone in the living room to dwell about really anything. rafe was so frustrating, sexually and in general. you made your way to the bedroom, turning off the light off in the living room. you traveled your way through the dark hallway to your bedroom. you passed the girls bedroom, hearing their peaceful soft snores. you stoped at their bedroom, peaking into their bedroom where the soft ladybug night light flickered gently.

you left their door cracked, walking towards your bedroom. greeted by rafe, "hey baby, c'mere," he said softly, "come lay down." he put his book on the side of the bed.

you changed into your pajama, then you crawled into bed with him. "'m so tired." you whispered, laying right on top of him. you threw an arm around his torso, burying your face into his pillow on his side of the bed.

he nodded, "i know. but i need you to do something for me." he cupped your cheek, his hand tangled in your hair. rafe pulled you in for a gentle kiss, "i've been s'pent up since the kids have been here for weeks 'n know their sleepin'" his hand caressed your face ever so gently. after subtle hinting, you made a face before nodding before he hooked his fingers under his black fancy pants, pushing them down slightly, his boxers coming next.

it was almost gave him embarrassment on how fast it went up. but then again comes the factor of he hasn't been able to request your assistance since his children have been at home. while you enjoyed the bonding with his two daughters, he wasn't the only thing pent up. rather than having sex when they went to bed, the both of you watched tv.

you wriggled your way in between his legs, grabbing the base of his cock before gently licking the precum off his tip. he let out a soft groan, which was more whimper like than anything. you made him so submissive in a way, y'know, like he acts big and bad before sucking him off, but as soon as you lick his sensitive tip he becomes all whimpery, and it turned you on.

you slowly pushed your mouth all the way onto his cock, your plump lips moving up and down on him. he let out a soft noise out of pleasure, one of your hands going to cup his ball, feeling then already tighten.

you let out a whimper as his cock hit the back of your throat voluntarily. and it kept repeatingly hitting the back of your throat, and you let out a gagging noise, showing of your not-so-good-gag reflex. "t's'okay." rafe managed out, "we can work on it." he softly pushed your head down, not letting you up for breath of air, and than when he found himself nearer towards release, he let you up.

after inhaling air, you went back down to finish him. rafe convulsed, his hand falling away from the vice he had on your hair, his eyes rolled back, "fuck." he groaned, his back arching slight as he came in your mouth. "swallow it f'me." he tapped your chin, shutting your mouth for you. he held your chin in satisfaction as he watched you swallow his warm load. he wiped the slight load on the side of your face, which was what didn't go all the way into your mouth.

you sat up, kicking off your pajama shorts that rafe had bought you, than hooking your thumb on the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down. he shuddered, attentively going to touch your shining pussy. he massaged your clit, earning a good and well earned soft moan from you.

he pulled you back onto him, allowing you to insert his cock into your tight hole. you both let out collective groans and moans. your room felt like a fucking sauna the way your body caught fire when you made contact with his body. you rolled your hips, like how your eyes rolled into the back of your head. you let out another moan as your hips rocked back and forth on him.

he grabbed your hips, slowing your pace down by the slightest. rafe held you in a vice, despite your quiet(ish) mewls of protest wanting to rock your own hips (key thing to why he thinks your a brat). "sh, you're a good girl." he whispered insight to your slight protests

you let out a soft moan when he pushed you further down onto him, "rafe!" you cried out, allowing him to rock you back in forth before allowing you to do as you wanted, his hands merely resting on your thighs rather than have your hips in a vice grip.

you rolled your hips, creating friction between you and rafe. the sweat smells filled both your and rafe's nostrils. you started to slowly bounce on his cock, both you and rafe letting out groans and moans at every bounce. he started to unbutton your night shirt to release your tits, they were following each of your bounce. you used rafe's shoulder to provide you stability, whilst he was unclipping your bra from your body.

rafe whispered sweet praises as he and you both neared release. his hands went to cup your titties as they bounced. he massaged your tits when they bounced. they weren't huge, nor were they small. they were perfect for rafe, his hand cupping one and it fit in his hand. he shuddered when you convulsed, and in a moment of breath-taking pleasure, you came around his cock, your hot liquids gushing around his cock. it was a piece of art, really. with your panting and the squelch of your come around his cock, you rested against his chest as he let out yet another string of his load inside of it, combined with your and his come, it looked even better than before.

"maybe you'll get your own kid tonight." he whispered hoarsely, pulling you off his body to go to the walk in bathroom.

he grabbed a rag, running it over cold water to clean you. you laid breathless, spread out on yours and his bed. when he made his way back to the bed, he turned on the box fan in the floor to help cool the both of you off. he took the cool wash cloth, pressing it against your thigh, you body indistinctly flinching from the contrast of your boiling body to the cool rag being moved along your thigh. he gently rubbed your sensitive pussy with the rag to clean up any other liquid that might've found it's way out of your cunt.

"there you go baby." he whispered, gently pressing a kiss against your forehead, your eyes half lidded as you were on the verge of passing out. rafe helped you put on a new pair of underwear, but the same bra and pajamas. he picked your underwear from off the floor, going to throw them in your dirty close basket. he changed into a pair of boxers. the room reeked of sex, and he smelled like it himself. he plugged in your favorite air freshener into the wall before pulling himself to rest. he laid sat up in bed, scrolling on social media as he held you in his arms.

when he found himself dozing off with the phone in his hand, he sat it on the nightstand. he laid his head on yours as he fell asleep for the night, it was a really cute sight, some might say. like something out of silly rom-com, or any romantic movie, really.

TAGS .ᐟ @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn

[janaelalfysblunt]

risk - paige bueckers

warnings: angsty-ish, homophobic parents (i didn't let them talk), happy ending

word count: 1694

notes: this was the most voted, so this will be the first one i publish the next one will be the ayanna one dedicated to @mrsarnold and @tndaqlifwy ❣

you can just talk, and I'll stare at your mouth it could be bad, but I wanna find out

you can only stare at her as she sits across from you, words shrieking softly past her lips. you watch how her mouth moves, wondering if she would pull back if she knew what you were thinking. you know it's dangerous. but in this quiet room with its low light, you can almost fool yourself. for a brief moment, you allow yourself to picture what it would be like to get closer, to lean in, and determine whether the fall is worth the risk.

It could ruin everything. or it could be the only thing that finally feels real.

and I feel like I could die 'cause you're not here and it don't feel right

It's too quiet in the room, the kind of silence that wraps you like a thick blanket and makes you feel more awake by every passing second. you've tried everything to distract your attention, including opening the window to let in the cool night air, reading the same page of a book five times, and scrolling through your phone until the screen blurred. all of this is done in the hopes that it will lessen the pain of missing her. missing paige. but it's useless. she isn't here, and her absence sticks to you like a lingering darkness.

It's an odd, difficult loneliness that seems to soak deeply into your bones. her laugh, the way her hand felt in yours during that one, untoward time, the silent looks you exchanged when no one was looking—all of these small reminders of her cling to your mind, and then all of a sudden she's both everywhere and nowhere. you try to picture her right next to you, close enough to reach out and calm the unease that has been annoying you ever since she left, by shutting your eyes.

it hurts, but it's for the better. we can't be together. we are both girls.

thinking I'm right when I'm probably wrong holding my breath like I met someone knowing damn well that I haven't been touched by you

"come over."

the message is a plain appeal that ought to stir up up excitement, interest, or any other emotion as it appears on your screen. you might have flirted a little, joked a little, and met him at a party. by all meanings, this should be simple because he is kind. you should want to say yes and experience the thrill of potential. but all you're doing is staring. waiting for an unfulfilled spark.

since he isn't her. he isn't your paige.

you tell yourself that comparing everyone to her is useless and would only lead to regret. yet, it feels strange and fake to consider being with someone else; it's like trying to put on someone else's skin. his blunt and explicit words appear on the screen, yet they have no meaning.

I'm gonna bend 'til I break and you'll be my favorite mistake I wish you could hold me here, shakin'

when your parents call, it's not actually to check on you. you tries to balance who you are, with who they want you to be, and they don't care about the sadness in your voice. they only need affirmation that you're "doing the right thing" and staying on the "right path."

but how do you leave someone who seems to be a part of you already? you must make a decision that could end your life since you are torn between a love that you are too scared to give up even if it's not possible and the stress of you family's expectations. because you're not sure if you could ever let go, let paige go.

she loved you. but does she still? it was years ago and she told you she would wait decades for you.

why aren't you here in my bedroom? hopelessly boring without you too soon to tell you "I love you"

sitting in your bedroom recalling everything.

flashback

it was after the first day of freshmen year. you and paige were on the phone, talking about everything. one of the things you loved about her, is that conversations could flow easily with her. if the topic is about something she doesn't know a lot about but you like it, she willings to learn stuff about it so you can talk for hours.

"i didn't knew you liked that movie." you said, suprised after your girlfriend brought it up.

"yeah. my sister made me watch it over the summer. it was alright." the blonde girl shrugged nonchalantly.

"paige. can we talk about something?" i asked in all seriousness now.

on the other side of the line, paige sat up in her bed, listening carefully. "of course, what's up?"

"i love you and i really hope you know that but..." i sighed, taking a moment. "my parents would never accept us together and you mean the world to me this is probably not a good topic to talk about over the phone but i think we need to take a break."

the silence that followed felt like it stretched on forever. you could hear paige’s breathing on the other end of the line, steady but tight.

“what?” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, a crack in her usual steady tone. “are… are you serious?”

you closed your eyes, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill over. this was the last thing you wanted to say, the last thing you wanted to feel, but here you were, saying it anyway. “I don’t know what else to do, paige. my parents don’t get it. they never would. they’d look at me like I’d failed them. and they keep calling, asking about you… it’s like they already know. they’ve been asking me questions, and I can’t, I just can’t lie to them anymore.”

you could hear paige take a shaky breath on the other end. “so… you’re just going to walk away?” she asked, her voice barely holding steady. “just like that?”

your chest ached. “it’s not like that. you know it’s not. this isn’t what I want. I just don’t see how I can have both you and my family. and I can’t ask you to live in secret, hiding from everyone, like some part of my life I’m ashamed of. you deserve more than that.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the words settling in. finally, paige broke the silence, her voice thick with tears. “but you’re also my best friend. you’re-” She stopped, as if she couldn’t bring herself to finish. “what am I supposed to do without you?”

her words shattered something inside you, and you nearly took it all back right then, nearly told her that none of this mattered, that you’d find a way. but deep down, you knew that until you could be honest with everyone else in your life, you couldn’t be fully honest with her. and that wasn’t fair—to either of you.

“I don’t know, paige,” you whispered, barely able to hear yourself. “I wish I did.”

you could hear her sniffle softly. “I love you, too, you know,” she said, her voice breaking. “and if this is what you need… then, okay. I just I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“me too,” you whispered, feeling like the words were tearing you apart.

after a few more seconds of silence, you heard the faint click as she hung up, leaving you alone with nothing but the hum of the empty line, and the feeling that you’d just lost the best part of yourself.

...

looking at it now, you knew what is the right thing. if your parents won't accept you for who you really are, they are not family. parents should never make her kids feel like they don't belong somewehere as if love could be conditional based on who are you keeping in your heart. paige left a few seconds ago. you're gonna follow her.

you're the risk, I'm gonna take it

right when you stepped out of the apartment door, the rain started pouring and you could see the tall blonde girl who you won't give up on. you ran. you're gonna finally get your girl back.

"paige!" you yelled, making her turn around in surprise as you caught up to her. "i'm so sorry for everything i should've found a way out of all that i shouldn't have left you for a family that isn't even a family. your arms felt more like home than my house ever did. and i'm so mad i let this drag on for too long i love you, i'm sorry."

she didn't answer. her blonde hair looked dark from the water. a few strands of hair were stuck to her forehead. she smiled. grapped your face, pulling you closer to her, attaching her lips to yours. "i miss you, i'm sorry."

you pulled away, confusion painted over your face. "what are you sorry for?" sou asked, she didn't had anything to be sorry about.

"gracie abrams has a song titled that and i know you like her so..." she's incredible. you laughed, pulling her into you, feeling the warmth of her body.

paige laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard, breaking through the rain like sunlight. “I want you to know that I get it,” she said, brushing the damp hair away from her face. “I know we’ve both messed up, but I’m still here. I still want this. I still want us.”

the relief that washed over you was almost overwhelming. “you have no idea how much that means to me,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion. “I thought I lost you for good.”

“no way,” she replied, her smile unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere. not this time.”

you hugged for a minute, then pulling away, and paige asked: "wanna get crumbl cookies?"

"yeah." you let out another chuckle, making your way to her car.

she's a risk that you're willing to take in any lifetime

[pickingupmymercedes]

What it means - Lewis Hamilton

warnings: bits of angst with the w15 but it's fluff through and through.

wordcount: +1k

a/n: the special for Lewis's laps on Senna's mp4 (there was not a single dry eye in that circuit, I guarantee)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The silence in our hotel room felt almost too loud, stretching on as I took off my shoes and let them fall by the door.

The day had been relentless and long, one of those that felt like a whole month.

I hadn’t known my shoulders could hold this much tension, hadn’t realized how every part of me was vibrating with something raw I couldn’t quite pint point yet.

I moved toward the window, looking out at the fading glow of São Paulo’s skyline, the bustling city alive with lights and sounds, so starkly at odds with the quiet turmoil I felt inside.

I could still hear the crowd’s cheers and chants from earlier, though they were little comfort.

This was Brasil, my home, and the Brasilian Grand Prix meant so much. For Lewis, for me, for all of us.

And it hadn’t gone anything like we’d hoped it could.

I barely registered Lewis sitting down on the edge of the bed, watching me carefully. His eyes, always gentle and observant, held that steady patience I’d come to rely on, though I couldn’t bring myself to look at him yet.

I just stayed by the window, the glow of the city casting a soft reflection back at me.

“So” he said finally, breaking the silence, his voice calm and measured. “What exactly are we sulking about?”

I closed my eyes, resting my head against the cool glass. “I’m just… frustrated” I managed, barely louder than a whisper. “I know it sounds bratty but I don’t even know where to start.”

He didn’t say anything, waiting for me to go on, that same unshakeable patience steady as a rock.

Turning back to him, I took a deep breath, my voice a bit shaky as I spoke.

“It’s the race. It’s the Brazilian Grand Prix. Your car was awful, and it didn’t have to be that way. You were out there fighting just to keep it on track, barely able to grip the corners, the rear end sliding all over the place like it’s trying to spin you out. It felt… reckless.”

I heard the edge in my voice, sharper than I’d meant it to be, but the frustration was bubbling up faster than I could control it.

“And you’ve got people here who love you. Gosh, so many people who are rooting for you—not even just because of who you are, but because of who you represent for them. And then today—” I bit my lip, trying to keep my emotions in check, “it was like all of that, was …”

Lewis sat quietly, his hands folded, listening as I poured out words I hadn’t even fully processed myself. I let out a heavy breath, my heart pounding.

“And then there’s my family,” I continued, my voice a bit steadier now. “They came here to watch you, to be a part of this. And they love you and they see what you mean to Brazil, to me. It’s just…” I trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“It sucks” I admitted finally. “It fucking sucks”

He nodded, a small, understanding smile softening his expression. “It was awful out there. I felt every bit of it, just like you did.”

The rawness in his tone made my chest tighten, the disappointment so clearly mirrored in his voice. “But” he continued “I also got something I’ll carry with me forever.”

I swallowed, remembering him climb into that Maclaren MP4, the way he’d paused just before getting in, like he was soaking in the magnitude of it.

The entire crowd had gone silent, breath held collectively as Lewis, their adopted son of sorts, took his place in that piece of Brazilian history.

A pin could’ve been heard in that circuit as he drove around Interlagos. On a rainy Sunday, just like Ayrton had done so many times.

“I dreamed of watching something like that live for so long. But I could’ve never hoped to be the one to drive that car around here” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Since I was five, since I first saw Ayrton race on TV. He was my absolute hero, and I didn’t know much about the world back then, didn’t know what I could be, but seeing him… it made me believe. And today …” He shook his head, his eyes shining. “it felt like I’d come full circle. Like that little kid who once dreamed had finally made it.”

I found myself moving toward him, the sting of tears burning at the back of my eyes as I sat down beside him. He took my hand in his, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he went on.

“You looked… I could see how much it meant to you.” I whispered as I watched the way his face softened at the memory.

“Standing there, with that car, in front of all those people who’ve opened their hearts to me… It was a homecoming in every way.” he said, his eyes shining with a quiet pride.

“It took me a while to understand, you know. For the longest time, I thought the respect came from the trophies, the podiums, the points. But it has always been about Ayrton, about the fact that I’ve always looked up to him, just like you guys do. I think…” he hesitated, glancing up at me as he tried to find the words. “I think it’s about the way I see him like you guys do, not just a f1 driver, but as a symbol of what I could aspire to be.”

I bit my lip, feeling the burn of tears prickling at the back of my eyes. It had been easy to get wrapped up in the frustration of the day, to dwell on the setbacks, the disappointments, the what-ifs. But hearing him talk like this, seeing the reverence and gratitude in his expression, it got me out of my head.

“Yeah” I whispered, barely able to keep my voice steady. “I saw my parents watching you. They had that same look in their eyes as everyone else in the crowd. They were in awe. Not of what you’ve done, but who you are.”

“And it’s not just any country, is it?” he responded, his voice dropping to a murmur. “It’s Brazil. Your country, my country now too, because of them and because of you.”

His fingers brushed gently against my cheek, wiping the tear away. “And I know how much you wanted today to go differently” he said, his voice warm, reassuring. “But this it’s bigger than any one race.”

I leaned into his touch, feeling the familiar steadiness of his presence seep into me. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“You care. That’s all it is. And you’ve got every right to feel frustrated.” he replied softly, his arm slipping around my waist.

I closed my eyes, letting his words settle. His warmth relaxing against the jagged edges of disappointment still clinging to me. And I finally let myself relax, my pulse steadying under his touch.

“You know,” he murmured after a pause, “driving Ayrton’s car… that was my way of saying ‘thank you.’ too. To him and to everyone who’s supported me here, even when it hasn’t been easy. It was my way of showing that I haven’t forgotten that little kid back from Stevenage”

I nestled into his embrace, feeling the ache of the day slowly ease away, replaced by a calm I hadn’t realized I needed.

“I’ll carry today with me forever.” he almost whispered, his voice like melody in the quietness.

I let out a chuckle, one that was more relief than joy. “You don’t have to convince me of that. Nor anyone, really. We all saw it.”

I looked up at him, seeing the gentle warmth in his eyes, the quiet strength that had always drawn me to him. “I’m proud of you” I whispered, my voice catching. “For everything. For honoring Ayrton, for the way you’ve embraced Brazil, for everything you’ve done, and mostly for everything you are.”

I reached up, covering the side of his jaw with my hand as I let out a shaky breath, absorbing everything. His eyes softened, and he took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts, preparing to let me further into this part of his heart.

“When I first slid into that car…” he began, his voice hushed and raw “It hit me, just how much this place has shaped me. I mean, I’m not really from here, but every time I race here, every time I see this place, it’s like … I belong.”

He paused, grabbing my hand before looking out toward the window, the city’s lights casting faint reflections in his eyes. “Like… they see something in me that I’d almost forgotten was there. That part of me that’s still that little boy only watching a race, the part that was told ‘no’ so many times, but kept going anyway.”

Lewis seemed to sense the shift in my mood, and a subtle smile tugged at his lips. “And” he began, a playful glint brightening his tired eyes, “I got to make a few couple of grown men tear up a little out there.”

I let out a surprised laugh, feeling some of the tension ease out of my shoulders. “You mean you didn’t join them?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, kept my cool. Just don’t ask Viviane to confirm that.”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. “Right, Mr. too tough to get emotional.”

He chuckled softly, then leaned back, looking thoughtful again. “Honestly, though… driving that MP4 today? It was like stepping into a different world. That car was something else. Made me think, maybe we’re doing things wrong with all these tech-heavy cars nowadays.”

I smiled, glad to see him loosening up. “So, is that 90’s McLaren better than your Mercedes?”

“Yeah” he replied without hesitation, a mischievous glint in his eye. “That McLaren, it has a soul, like it wanted to race just as much as I did. The W15 has a temper and it’s always trying its hardest to throw me off track”

I laughed, feeling the weight of the day slipping further away. “Guess we could try and convince them to swap your car for a classic.”

Lewis squeezed my hand, grinning as he met my gaze. “Only if you promise to be there to cheer me on, every single lap.”

"Always" I smiled as I took a deep breath, letting the emotions settle like dust after a long day.

“He would have been proud of you.” I whispered squeezing his finger back, my voice barely a breath. “For everything you are, for everything you stand for.”

He closed his eyes but the emotion was clear in his voice “Then I guess all I can do is keep showing up” he murmured “for him and for all of us.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[zvezdacito]

Diasomnia sexuality (and some gender) headcanons I just wanted to yap about for no reason:

Malleus: Demiromantic Bisexual

-> There's that joke that he doesn't gaf about gender as long as it's Yuu, but (for the demiromantic part) I also like the idea that he's ride-or-die, sentimental and clingy for anyone he gets close to. So generally the only difference for how he cares about people is the type of attraction + specific boundaries (can be slightly possessive in a different way for a romantic interest? Idk)

-> Also not really sexuality but I see his gender as that "I'm probably nonbinary but I have a job so idrc about that rn" tweet but for being the next king In general I think being acespec & nonbinary would be extra perplexing for bro since he never stopped to think about personal identity stuff like that for too long (too duty-pilled🥀)

-> Being dense about regular emotional experiences + actual difference in the norms of attraction and gender add to the gap of understanding between him and others

Lilia: Bisexual (not really a sexuality but he's also polyamorous)

-> This isn't sexuality again but I also think transfeminine Lilia is cool, I genuinely believed that Lilia was just a woman with a really deep voice the first time I saw him (I was watching him vs Leona in Book 2 out of context). There's no way to easily explain this in English but by this the specific identity i see him as is basically 'bakla' in the Philippines. It is really its own gender identity in our culture and isn't a "direct equivalent" of any one anglophone label, but for the sake of non-filipinos i guess you can just understand this to mean i see Lilia as "nonbinary transfem in the Filipino way"👍

-> I think it would align with his story in a good way with how she's maligned by the senate and such, how even as a soldier Lilia was coloring her hair for style. It's also like that thing where a guy who was already considered obviously effeminate and "one of the girls" atp (I see Meleanor as kids playing with Lilia in typically "girly" ways and encouraging his cuteness/hair styling) comes out later on as actually a girl/fem nonbinary

-> General Lilia is this is that type of situation where a transfem person can't really go all out with their expression because current life-threatening circumstances require "masculinity" or their focus to be exclusively on external matters (in this case its Lilia being a lowly bat soldier in an active war. Similar to Malleus, an idea of patriotic obligation stops him from really questioning or exploring since the country needs "strength" and "unity" in these times, there was also just really little time to wonder when you're fighting for your life everyday). But after retiring Lilia is able to realize she likes being perceived as cute and begins going all out in her appearance👍

Lilia edit with the article this headcanon reminds me of:

Silver: Aroace

-> Thought it would be a kind of cool subversion of the usual fairytale prince archetype Silver is made to emulate, where romance is the greatest and purest love and marriage is THE happy end. I think it aligns with Silver wanting to spend his life "repaying" the kindness of Malleus and Lilia; if they asked him to think about gertting a family of his own in the future, I think he'd just say the true love he's found in life is already them. A knight who dedicates his lifetime devotion to familial love instead

Sebek: Gaylm

-> One of bro's most notable character gags is glazing another man at every opportunity so yeah /j. Also fsr I just can't see him as a man romantically with a woman no matter what lol

(THIS ISN'T OBJECTIVE THOUGH this is just how I personally sense his vibes. Go crazy fellow fem yumes and OC artists. You are the pillars of this earth)

⚠️ My only disclaimer is that I am cisgender so the gender headcanons are only me relating the characters to scholarly articles on transfem experiences/from personal accounts of transfem and nonbinary people online and irl.

Another reminder that these are all headcanons made by viewing canon in a specific way, not me saying they're definitively any of these identities. You can still have cis or male malleus and lilia if you prefer that😭

That is all. Thank you for reading👊🔥

[alongtidesoflight]

so here's my honest thoughts on dragon age: the veilguard, after ~40 hours of playing. i finished the main quest after having finished all companion quests and major faction quests. just to clear up what content i saw, i played as an elven transmasc rook who is a member of the lords of fortune. he romanced lucanis (although after finishing the game i'm now leaning towards taash). i don't know what's happening in playthroughs that have a different race, gender identity, romance or faction going on.

full spoilers ahead, i mean it. don't read further if you want to avoid them. i don't want complaining about it in my asks.

oh and also, if you're worried because of a few negative reviews online i can comfort you by saying don't give a fuck about a certain big name youtuber who is very much tied to bethesda franchises giving this a negative review. i'll explain why.

i'm starting off with the things i liked

the game looks really pretty. i was worried it wouldn't feel like thedas anymore (with them trying to "focus on northern thedas only" i thought they'd make a clear cut in environmental design. they do and they don't. it's complicated. i'll elaborate on it when talking about the negative stuff). anyway it does. minrathous feels like kirkwall. treviso enchanted me like the winter palace did. the hossberg wetlands reminded me of the hinterlands and a couple other inquisition maps. arlathan looked like... arlathan. the crossroads were different, but familiar. overall i like the way it looks and feels. it's thedas, with a twist. it's a good one, and gives everything a solid but unique feel.

combat is top tier. if you're a hardcore dragon age player you WILL miss the tactical aspect of it for a bit, but i promise you, once you're used to the way the combat works, you will be lapping that shit up. and once you get to ability combos you'll mourn the control you used to have over your companions in battle a bit less

the MAIN quest and its story. i expected worse, way worse. and for a while the game even had me tricked (harr harr you'll get it in a second) it is Really That Much Worse. but holy shit was it good. i walked away satisfied ngl.

your choices have SOLID weight. there's consequences, good AND bad. i got minrathous blighted, ruled over by venatori, and the leader of the shadow dragons ultimately died because of my decisions. i made those at the beginning and throughout the game. he died at the end. DAVRIN died because i didn't expect what i was saying to have that much weight. i thought i was in the clear. he had hero status. well turns out, your choices can still get your companions killed even if you do everything right. i fucking love him. he shouldn't have made that sacrifice just because i told him to do everything it takes once.

the inquisitor, morrigan and dorian being there, surprisingly. there's also negatives to this though, see below.

speaking of companions dying and the inquisitor playing a bigger role: the final quest feels like me2's suicide mission. i was blown away by it and the fact that i got to see the results of all my efforts playing out in front of me.

bioware are NOT trying to redeem solas. they love him as a character yes, but i wasn't forced to see any good in him. he betrays you. he fucked my rook over twice. he fucked him over right back, for good this time (the veil wasn't torn down, i anchored it by binding him to it, he's doomed to uphold it). but solas really lives up to his name as the trickster elven god. rip to all the people who grew really attached to him over the years.

varric died. if you like him that's probably as hard reading it as it was watching it. varric died and the game lies about it until the very end. when the realisation hits, it hurts. but in the very best way.

the amount of care they put into gender expression and trans identities this time around. (i'll add onto this with negative points as well too).

rook feels very much ingrained in the world of thedas. he doesn't ask questions that expose the player to lore through dialogue as if he's stepped foot into thedas for the first time. those conversations feel very solid and good. i hope other faction players got as much joy out of this as i did.

and the things i didn't like and boy there's a lot unfortunately

the music. let's just get that out of the way holy shit. it doesn't feel like it belongs in this universe. it gets so incredibly sci-fi-y at times you'd think it's taken straight from mass effect andromeda. there's not a single song unique to veilguard that i really enjoyed. it broke my immersion, real bad. hearing a busker play the tavern songs from inquisition on a lute right after i killed some venatori with wobbly bass songs playing in the background is just odd. weird tonal shift. don't like it. it's made for people who like flashy light-weight cinema.

tevinter nights is required reading. the podcasts are required listening exercises. the game is so fast paced, especially at the start, that there's no time to introduce you to characters and how much weight their names carry in-game. i would not have known who half these people are if i hadn't skimmed over tevinter nights. i'd care even less about them than i already did. there is no time to get properly attached to them. people will act as if you're talking to a legend personified and you'll be thinking man goddamn which chapter of tevinter night were they in again and what did they do???

there's a weird mismatch with the animations. you'll have beautifully fluid ones, like emmrich casting spells. and then you'll have rook's face animating in the most unnatural manner that's sorta reminiscent of mass effect andromeda's "my face is tired" addison, when their emotions SHOULD be landing with the player rn instead.

i'm not vibing with the art style. sometimes it works. most of the time it doesn't. at points i felt like i was watching tangled.

that also brings me to some of the dialogue. same issue. i am watching frozen. i am watching tangled. someone on the writer's team really likes the adorkable trope. bellara is its victim.

for all the talk about identity, bioware sure doesn't like theirs. the grey warden armor got a redesign again and it just makes them look like a generic army. i hate it lol

in general, i don't like the armor design. the wardrobe/appearances system is fine, but it's just not helping if all the armors are just... kinda bland or downight bad looking? and don't get me started on the lords of fortune armor. that is orientalism personified.

the world states should have been carried over, full stop. i know they said they didn't because they want to separate what happens in the north from what happens in the south, which... i could have lived with that. but the inquisitor sends you letters that keep you up to date on... the south of thedas. you learn that there's a blight again, that people are standing strong but it's difficult, denerim's fallen, the rulers are taking care of it, orlais is fighting and they're successful for a while, etc etc. what's good bioware. i thought we don't care about the south this time around. why are you feeding me so much boring generic information. if you're not gonna show any of it and just write letters, then carrying the world state over should not have been an issue. i have a game dev background. those few lines of code would not have broken your budget or pushed your engine's limits. fuck right off.

this gripe of mine carries over to all the cameos. as a lord of fortune you have to deal with isabela a lot. it's fun. i missed her. you get to go drinking with her and taash and bellara! also my hawke romanced her. she's not mentioned once. they had the opportunity to put a sentence or two about her in there with not a lot of effort, trust me.

when varric dies, all she has is a single line about it. for gold, for fortune, for varric. she only says it if you interact with her on your way to the final push. that's not mandatory.

morrigan is there. kieran isn't. the old god soul that mythal and then solas absorbed? who cares at this point, the gods are dead now and solas is locked away for eternity. i suppose? why is morrigan there. she feels unneeded. i wish they'd just left her down south, at least that way i wouldn't have had to witness her god awful redesign.

dorian at least feels as if he belongs in this story. the shadow dragons are a crucial part to protecting minrathous. he's also weirdly underutilised. isabela and morrigan had more lines than him in my playthrough.

on the topic of romance: bro that was underwhelming. no, genuinely. you know when romance picked up a bit? after the point of no return. i heard maybe two lines of companion banter about it before that. maybe i missed something which i honestly doubt, but romance did not play much of a role in lucanis's storyline. i saved his grandmother as he wished me to (and if you read tevinter nights you know she was rather abusive and their relationship not the healthiest) and told him to focus on his family. a reunified family my rook wasn't even introduced to as a partner at the end of all that.

really, do not buy this game if you're only in it for the romances. others might be better, lucanis's basically gave me nothing. except for an outing (the second coffee date i had with him, it was getting repetitive) all of it played out once i committed to the final quest. the sex scene was a fade to black. annoyingly right after davrin died. if you're looking for well paced and good spice, pick up something else. the sweet talk and the final goodbye were nice though.

for all the good the ever-presence of gender identity does, it is brought up in such a disruptive manner too. it doesn't even play out naturally if you CHOOSE the lines that are meant to be said. hearing the words trans and non-binary in this setting doesn't feel right, and i'm saying this as a trans guy. i think it could have been handled more gracefully. the amount of times my rook went "i'm a MAN" as if he's about to start drumming on his chest and roaring any second now got super nerve-grating. "i'm so glad you're into me... the me who is trans. remember?" just. tell me one trans person who'd talk like that to a person they've grown close with and are trying to romance. this game doesn't handle sexuality well, so all this hey my body might not look like the way you're expecting it to look talk amounts to nothing anyway. i feel about this the way i feel about krem: this is partial exposition to trans experiences... packaged up for cis consumption. the ONLY exception to that is interacting with taash. holy shit was all of that heartwarming and bro did it feel good and natural to talk to them about theirs and rook's gender.

rivain and nevarra are new locations added by veilguard. they're also incredibly underwhelming, small and constricted maps. rivain is a coastline with a few ruins. the hall of valor is a partial ruin nestled into a cave on a beach, with a fighting pit. isabela is there in her skimpy outfit commentating your pit fights. that's it. i'm sorry if you were looking for a bustling pirate cove or whatever. you're not gonna get it. the nevarran crypts btw are a long ass dungeon crawl. that's it.

speaking of maps. i thought people were being dramatic when they said you're gonna be fighting the same enemies on them again and again. i thought they were figure of speeching it. they're not. you WILL fight the same amount of enemies. in the same spot. every time you reload the map. best to stay on a map and clear out the enemies and do as much questing on that map as you can before leaving, because you WILL have to do it all over again once you return.

the three choices i made for my inquisitor didn't matter lol she didn't have to face solas and therefore couldn't stop him at any cost as she had sworn (maybe because my rook tricked solas into binding himself to the veil, there was also an option to fight him. would she have stepped in? who knows). blackwall wasn't mentioned. and either her using a small amount of her forces in the final fight was the reason the civilians of minrathous fared so well..... or it just didn't matter. ultimately i think she had very little impact on anything

[onnahu]

Jason is the only Gotham vigilante that can critisise the existence of child superheroes - i don't really count Scarlet here, but like, we know writers are doing whatever, and he was ooc so whatever. Even tho I love Scarlet. But it's not about it.

Anyways. All the others were unstoppable. They were doing whatever they wanted with or without Batman - that's why he has excuse for mixing children into his crime fighting. Jason however - sure, he wanted to be Robin, but what child wouldnt? He was like a kid who wants a puppy. He really really wants it, but if a parent says no, then it's a no. He can live without it, and sure, if he finds an abandoned puppy he would smuggle it in - he would however not go around trying to get a puppy by stealing it or whatever.

When Jason helped with Ma'Gunns case, it was pretty opportunistic - he saw something was happening, and he stepped in. However, he survieved a few years on streets - he wouldn't if he meddled in what's not his bussiness. If he stumbled upon a crime he would stop it, because he has a strong moral compass, even if slightly crooked. He would not, however, go out of his way to find crime like does Bruce, Dick, Stephanie, Cassandra etc. He was an opportunistic hero. When Batman agreed for him to become Robin, he made him be proactive in fighting.

Jason had issues already - he grew up around violence and fear. He needed not to go deeper into it to see dead bodies up close. He needed to have a normal life with going to school, meeting with friends and doing stupid teenager shit without fighting the mob or supervillains.

Jason's life would not end if he didn't get Robin. It would be even better, in my opinion.

I'm kinda tired so I won't find this panel now, but when Nightwing finds out about Jason being Robin, he confronts Batman about it. Bruce admits that he missed Dick and at first he took Jason in as a kind of replacement for his empty nest syndrome. The same is with Robin. Bruce did not thing smart then - he was emotional and give in without a fight because he missed Dick. Then, he was dissaponited when Jason wasn't like Dick.

Also, he made Jason feel like he wanted him only for Robin. All the real problems in DitF are because Jason thought he's not worth anything for Bruce if he's not Robin.

And then he died.

Being Robin destroyed Jason. It took away any chance at normal life he had and killed him. His worldview got even more messed up than it was before.

He's the only one that could not be Robin and just live with it, even being better off.

So, when Jason critisised Batman for taking on child partners, he has every right. He also doesn't get that they couldn't be stopped (I mean there is the Scarlet situation and also Mia but again, ooc). For him being Robin was the worst and the best thing that happended to him. It didn't have to.

This post is a mess but I'm a mess so...

Anyways, I love Jason and cry about him.

[ohcoffeedragon]

I was about to give my own take on the album in the tags of @bisonaari's post but seeing the wall of text on my screen I decided to make it a separate post instead, and then I ended up making a graph.

I love how the album takes you on a ride and plants themes that keep evolving. It gets very dark at times, but you never lose that sense of forward motion.

Ready to Go is about getting your big chance, believing in yourself and going all in. It has an inspirational quality to it, but in the lyrics you already get a hint of the problems to come, and you already have two of the running themes: an inability to set boundaries + the impact of getting reduced to a one dimensional character, to the point where people want to see you fail for their entertainment.

Cha Cha Cha of course is about a lot of things, but in the context of the album the classic story beat here is the "point of no return". It's an emotional high: rising to the challenge, overcoming insecurities and difficulties, experiencing a triumph, but at the same time it's the point where normal life goes out the window. This is the point where you get the letter from Hogwarts or step through the wardrobe into a bizarro world.

Takavoltti marks the beginning of the downward spiral. K still has energy in abundance, we find the same attitude of going all in and pushing through difficulties that was first introduced in Ready to Go, but in Takavoltti the pushing just never stops. He is pushed further and further, and once again you can sense that the people pushing him don't really see him as a person. They just want to see how far he will go, it's all about the entertainment value.

Ruoska and Kot Kot go one step further. In Takavoltti K is already acting on command, he has no more agency of his own, but there is still an eagerness to surprise and please an audience. That eagerness is gone in the two following songs, it's all coping, reacting and surviving. Autiomaa is the darkest point but there is a fair amount of darkness in the other songs as well.

Around Autiomaa on both sides you have songs about coping. Kot Kot, Ruoska and Sex=Money, while being fun, are about coping strategies that come dangerously close to self harm (drinking, leaning into the pain/getting hurt but still asking for more, giving people what they want because you can't feel anything so you might as well).

Sex=Money marks an evolution because he is trying to reclaim the narrative and take his own decisions, but he is still lost in the numbness and doesn't really know which way to go.

It's only with Bananas, HHH and ICIP that we are finally emerging into a different mindset. The problems are still there but he is learning to roll with the punches. The numbness is gone and he is able to enjoy the moment again. Feelings of joy and love shine through even when things are frantic and full of uncertainty.

Then we have People's champion as the perfect ending, looking back at the roller coaster, stopping to take it all in, appreciating what a journey it's been, being grateful for it all and letting the positive feelings take over.

I find this album insanely well made. It's heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time, while simultaneously being pure fun, never missing a beat.

And I'm still at a loss about how the HS critic was unable to see this. How could he possibly not see the coherence of a narrative that follows the beats of a traditional story arc?

[spiderb00]

Can I request reader surprising Lara from Katseye for her birthday? Thanks

Nights like this - Lara Raj

Lara Raj X reader 

Synopsis: Surprising your girlfriend isn't so easy, but you soon discover that everything with her is amazing 

Genre: Fluff 

a/n: Lara is so… I love her. well, that took a while, but I think I'm happy with it. I don't know if it's as you imagined, but I hope you like it <3

(I may have made a mistake in the writing, but I think nothing too big).  

Yn was freaking out. She was never the kind of person who followed a routine or made a schedule to follow. She was a free soul, whatever had to happen would happen. 

That was why she was losing her mind over the birthday of her girlfriend, Lara Raj. For the first time in her entire life, Yn wanted everything to follow a script, for everything to be perfect and for her to be able to make her girlfriend feel loved and important. 

What at first seemed easy and quick became a total mess in Yn's hands. The plan was for her to take Lara to a nice dinner where they would have fun and be the extremely cute and powerful couple that they were, and then Yn would take her home, where her family and the Kats would wait for her with a surprise. 

Yn's desperation began to set in when she was in the car, going to pick up Lara. Her phone rang with a call from Dani, who was talking too fast for Yn to understand. 

"Dani, Dani! I'm seriously not understanding anything you're talking about." 

Yn heard doors closing on the other end of the line, and imagined that Daniela was going to a more private place. 

"Yn, the cake is not here!" 

Yn felt her heart stop. 

"WHAT? What do you mean the cake is not here?" 

"Exactly what I meant you idiot, the cake is not here. You said it would come this morning." 

Yn ran her hand over her face, frustrated and thinking about what she was going to do, there were less than ten minutes left for her to arrive to pick up Lara. A thousand thoughts in her mind and none seemed enough to solve this situation. 

That's when Yn pulled the steering wheel to the right and entered a completely different street. 

"Okay, pay attention Dani. I'm going to get the cake, and you're going to have to be as fast as you can to get it out of my car without Lara noticing. Is that okay?" 

"It's okay, I'll talk to the girls. Be quick, Lara is going crazy here." 

So as soon as Dani hung up the phone, Yn did everything she could as quickly as possible. Luckily for her, the cake was ready and the attendant apologized a thousand times for her order not being delivered as it should. 

When she stopped at the Kats' house, her stomach dropped. The nervousness not only for everything to work out with the surprise party, but the emotion and butterflies in the stomach of seeing Lara. 

When Yn got out of the car, Lara was already coming towards her. Her blue dress highlighted her curves and the contrast with her jewelry made her look like the most beautiful woman in the world, which she was in Yn's eyes. 

"My God, you are the most beautiful woman in this whole world." 

Yn said as she caught Lara in a hug, twirling the girl in the air as the birthday girl laughed. 

"You're the best girlfriend in the world." Lara said while laughing at the surprised expression on her girlfriend's face. 

"Well, I have to have done something very good to deserve you." Yn said as she approached Lara to give the girl a kiss. 

"Hey, not in front of my child!" sophia said as she covered Yoonchae's eyes. Lara and Yn with a smile on their faces. Sophia giving Yn a look that made her look back.

Looking now at a Daniela and Megan trying to carry a large box of cake while Manon tried to close the door of her car silently. These girls were supposed to win a prize, Yn had never seen them being so sneaky in her entire life. 

"Well, can we go now?" Lara says as she tries to turn towards her girlfriend's car. 

"NO!" Yn and Sophia screamed at the same time, causing Lara to stop and give them both strange looks. 

"I mean, I have to tell Yn not to come back late." Sophia says, Yoonchae holding her laugh by her side. 

"It's okay Sophia, I'll bring her home early." Yn says strangely, trying to get into Sophia's story to buy time. 

"You guys are very strange." Lara says as she takes Yn's hand and drags her towards the car, which was now free, Daniela, Manon, and Megan hiding somewhere.

In the restaurant everything seemed to go the way Yn had planned. When Yn and Lara were together, nothing could be bad. 

"I really want to spend the rest of my life with you," Yn says, taking Lara's hand. 

Lara smiled, she seemed to be delighted with everything. The restaurant looked perfect, with a view of the sea and wonderful food. She couldn't take her eyes off her girlfriend and they never ran out of topics, talking all night about silly things to deep conversations about the future. 

"I love you so much. This is all just incredible. Thank you for doing this for me.” Lara says, her thumb drawing circles on Yn's hand. 

"I just want to make you feel like the queen you are." Yn says kissing Lara's hand. 

The two stood there, admiring each other's every detail. The love in their eyes spoke more than any words. 

In the car, everything seemed calm, familiar, almost as if everything was domestic. Yn driving with one hand on Lara's thigh, the girl in the passenger seat with her arm outstretched caressing Yn's hair. They were always connected, physically and emotionally. 

Parking at the Kats' house, Yn turned off the car and unbuckled her belt. 

"Are you going to stay for the night?" Lara, asked with enthusiasm, her eyes shining with her girlfriend's actions. 

"Well, I was going to ask to go to the bathroom, but if you want I'll stay." Yn says with a smile, she would do anything Lara asks. 

"Great, so you're staying." Lara said with a smile, leaning in to steal a kiss from her girlfriend. 

when they arrived at the door Yn's heart raced, this was the moment, Yn wanted everything to be perfect. So when Lara opened the door it was as if everything had stopped. 

"SURPRISE!" 

Everyone screamed, everything was beautifully decorated, the Kats were as excited as Lara's family and Yn's heart calmed down to know that everything had worked out. 

Lara looked at everyone with teary eyes, running to hug Rhea and her parents, thanking not only them but the Kats. She didn't know that her night could get any better, and when Megan told her that it had all been her girlfriend's idea, Lara wanted to cry in love. 

pulling Yn to a corner Lara hugged her without saying anything. 

"I love you so much, I've never loved anyone like I love you." Lara says looking into Yn's eyes. 

"You deserve the world, Lara Raj." Yn says, hand on either side of the red-haired girl's face. "I'll give you everything." 

Lara closed the distance between them, the salty taste of Lara's tears of happiness did not hinder the couple from transmitting the love they felt for each other. The two girls thirsty for each other, yearning more by the second. 

"I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you." Lara says. 

"I'll love any day by your side, especially nights like this."

[lightningant]

niche but sadly very core Voldemort meta for me (which not based in anything but vibes I will admit) is that I think he has a lot of unresolved emotions about his parents and it manifests in bizarre ways because he doesn't even understand that's what's bothering him

I'm obsessed with giving him a parent [after he makes at least one horcrux] because a part of him wants to be nurtured, celebrated, and understood. A strong factor "Lord Voldemort" is his determination to essentially create himself; become singular, separate from any line. There is no first name-surname, he is only himself. Because being a part of a line has done nothing for him. It has been wielded against him, it has provided no care, it amounted to shallow indignity on both ends.

So I do think he'd get a lot out of, forgive me for saying this about a platonic relationship, a parent who matches his freak; a boymom who prioritizes him and is willing to engage in complete enmeshment to soothe his feelings of rejection and displacement.

And he knows he's never going to get it, despite not knowing he wants it. So he wants to be the parental enmeshment boymom.

I see Snape as the clearest taste of this, with his abnormal closeness to Voldemort in the inner circle, learning dark magic no one else seems to get to learn, and his blood/class status being completely irrelevant. Voldemort wants to ignite something in him that his past self never got. Your muggle dad sucks. Your pureblood family won't associate with you. But here I am, to raise you as a man like you should be raised, help you become singular and isolated from all others except myself, and I will not interrogate why this is so important to me.

But this only extends to young adults straight out of school; he detests children, and the younger they are, the more repulsed and anxious he gets. I don't think Voldemort trying his hand at boymoming to express what he thinks a fair and just parental influence would look like would make him a good parent. Not even in the gothic way, he'd just be mediocre and avoidant. Sad!

Anyway. Having a mentor figure he's spoken to and had a relationship with is a great spotlight for making this dynamic more stark. A late mentor means a third parent that disappointed, abandoned, and rejected Tom Riddle, confirming Voldemort's hypothesis he must create himself anew, and thus another parent must be eradicated from his personal history and his hurt must be buried where it is no longer relevant. And I'm aromantic so platonic derangement is innately more appealing to me in every situation.

[vixenihy]

Late Night Guilt

Summary: A few months after the Cuban Missile Crisis, Jack is still facing the stressful aftermath and his survivors guilt from the war certainly isn’t helping either. Just when he feels he’s out of luck, someone he loves dearly is there to help.

Tags/Notes + Pairing: jfk x jackie kennedy, hurt/comfort?, swearing, mentions of past infidelity, antiquated beliefs about emotions, stress, anxiety.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: this is my first fic! i’m not super experienced with writing jackie, i fear. but i noticed that there aren’t any jfk x jackie fics so i wanted to change that. i love these two, lol. the indents may be a bit off bc i wrote this on my phone and used the spacebar as substitutes for indents… sorry lol. the banner was made by me, and the border below belongs to @/menschenopfer !

God Damnit…

Jack lets out a quiet groan of frustration, biting his cheek and hoping that the interviewer didn’t hear him. He’d forgotten to take the medication for managing his nerves. Not like he can remember what it’s called, though. There's too many names to even begin to remember what the Hell it’s called.

The past few months have been nothing but stress; Paper after paper and interview after interview. It’s a total mess, and it’s his fault. The Cuban Missile Crisis was the closest the world came to ending; but who started this beginning to the end? Well, Jack blames no one but himself. He can barely resist the urge to tap his teeth with his fingers in front of the camera focusing on his face.

“Mr. President, after the close call with the Soviet Union and Cuba, a handful of Americans are curious about your story that led to you earning your Purple Heart. We know there is a movie coming out later this year, but would you care to give a little of your own personal perspective?” The interviewer asks. Jack clenches his jaw and tightly interlocks his fingers as a heavy pang hits his heart. The last thing Jack wants to be reminded of is the people who he failed to protect, the two people who died because of him. He can feel the guilt eating away at him as he speaks, his voice just as calm as his face.

“Oh, there isn’t much to say. They sank my boat, and we were stranded for a while. Then with the help of some of the natives, the Navy came and saved me and my crew.” Jack explains calmly, ignoring the burning hot fire, hours of pulling men to the boat, screaming the names of the men he’d lost till daybreak. The swimming, vomiting, starvation, the close calls with death, and the terrible guilt he faces to this day. He left out all of it. No one will know how he felt that day, because Kennedys don’t show how they feel. A real Kennedy never cracks.

Jack snaps back to reality just as the interviewer finishes scribbling his notes.

“Thank you Mr. President.”

—————

“Bunny, it’s okay if you want to talk…You know I'm here for you, don’t you?” Jackie presses as she helps to massage her husband's back. Usually, she wouldn’t press too much into his day and his issues as she believed it wasn’t right to bring up the stress of the day right after it had ended, but Jackie noticed how stressed he looked and how upset he seemed to be when she saw a glimpse of him when he was alone. It worries her. And though he had hurt her in the past with his philandering behavior, she knows why he acts the way he does and how he’s doing his best to change. So, she decides to focus on the future rather than the past.

“I know, Jackie…But I'm fine. It’s just that work is stressful. That’s all.” Jack sighs, laying his head in his arms and closing his eyes as Jackie helps to work the stress out of his body. He wishes that he could tell Jackie all about his day and vent his frustrations, but he finds himself biting his tongue. Men don’t talk about their feelings, especially not a Kennedy man. He can hear his parents chastising him in the back of his mind for even having such a thought. So, he just decides to let it go and switch the conversation.

“Thank you for helping me with my back, Kid…It’s been killing me for the past month. I think picking up Caroline at Christmas really aggravated it.” He continues, turning his head back ever so slightly to look at her. Jackie looks so beautiful with the dim lamp shining behind her, illuminating her figure like an angel. He doesn’t deserve her, how did he get so lucky?

“It’s alright, Jack. You certainly made her day.” She whispers with a chuckle, glancing into his faded green eyes and watching them spark with life, the Jack Kennedy she knows and loves seems to finally come to life.

——

The crackle of fire and the smell of oil taints the air as Jack slowly opens his eyes, groaning in agony as his back spasms. He goes to grab the nightstand, but only finds a cold metal surface beneath his hand. He stumbles as he pulls himself into a standing position, opening his eyes at last. His heart drops as he realizes where he is. He’s over a thousand miles from home, he’s in the same place he fought like Hell to escape from, he’s back.

The South Pacific.

Following the same routine he’s done a hundred times before, Jack leaps off the side of the creaking bow and swims out towards the voices of his crew. They scream and cry out for their skipper and their mothers, a haunting sound he’s listened to too many times before. Just as he’s about to reach one man, he sees a head disappear below the waves. Gasping with fear, Jack dives below the waves and claws his way downwards, the darkness of the sea making it impossible for Jack to see the face of the man he’s trying to save. But just as he reaches out, he slips out of his reach. And he helplessly watches the figure disappear into the dark abyss.

Jack awakes with a start, jolting to find himself back in the luxurious bedroom he’s lived in for the past few years. He sits up gently, bringing himself back to the present with a deep sigh. Attempting to alleviate his back pain, Jack brings his knees to his chest and lies his head on his arms. A tightness settles in his heart as guilt festers in his mind. He forces back a few tears as he remembers one of the hardest experiences of his life. Just before any tears begin to break through, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Jack?” Jackie asks groggily, confused to see her husband awake so late. “What’s the matter, Bunny?” Wiping his eyes with his hand, Jack lies down onto his back.

“It’s nothing, Jackie. Just a bad dream is all…” He sighs, turning over onto his side.

“Go back to sleep, Kid. It’s alright..” Jack mutters. But before he can allow himself to drift off, he feels Jackie's arms wrap around him and hold him close to her body. At first, he seems uncomfortable by the touch his wife is giving him. It feels so foreign and uncomfortable. But as the seconds pass, he finds himself warming up to it…

“Maybe we can get away to Hyannis Port on Saturday. No press, no people, no work…Just us. It’ll be cold, but I think you need a break.” Jackie suggests, placing a kiss on her husband's neck and rubbing her thumb over his hand.

“I love you, Bunny.” She sighs, cuddling closer to Jack.

“I love you too, Jackie.” Jack smiles, shutting his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep.

[overnightheartbeats]

“It matters to me. When I’m being told I’m doing this for fun, I kind of like to know why.” Her frown was in clear display. Why wouldn’t it matter? Well, at least he wasn’t telling her to go away, so she took a seat next to him and turned to face him. This could go either way, and if this was where everything went to shit, she wanted to make sure she got everything.

Hearing his level tone was new, especially when she was used to bigger displays of anger or just silence altogether. "You keep saying I had my fun? I don't," she paused, shaking her head. "Do you think I'm so shallow that I use my free time to flirt and mess with guys? Okay true, I did seek you out and maybe that was a little too forward, but I didn't do all of that just because I was bored and needed a..pet project." Listening to him recount what happened had her experience a wave of emotions - stunned, confused, and just generally lost. He described Jenny in a way she had never heard before. It wasn’t landing in her mind, but as he spoke, her mind was already working through it. He had no reason to lie, right? Clearly, he had no issue saying what he thought. But if he did, where would he even get all of this? "Jenny told you I'm playing you?" That sounded outrageous, but why else would he be so upset towards her. “That doesn’t sound like her, but I guess, yeah.” He had no reason to lie to her, did he? She couldn’t quite place it, but there was a part of her that did trust him. Even if her mind was clouded with doubt. Her mind was running at one hundred miles per hour, but it all came to a halt with his latest mention of fun and their kiss. Laurel was upset about many things right now, but their moment being tainted like this was the most irritating (even above him thinking the worst of her). "I didn't kiss you because of some game or to have fun, stop saying that. I did it because I wanted to, and I liked you," she blurted out, exasperated by the conversation and confusion drowning her.

The silence was killing her. It was her worst nightmare, she rather go back to him telling her the different ways she was playing him and how her friend was this big bully. Laurel and silence never really got along, it made her uneasy. She pulled her knees close to her chest, a sense of defeat washing over her. This was done, wasn't it? So much for Juju's optimistic outlook, and that first date. If this situation didn't indicate the end, his comment on girlfriends certainly did. No one being worth the fucking effort, noted. Laurel shook her head once more, "sorry. I..I just thought that you were running off for a girlfriend, and then what you said in class about wanting to stay. I just thought that..well, it doesn't matter." She thought he was like the typical college guys, yeah. "I assumed, my mistake, but that's also why I asked. Because, like I said, not a game to me. It felt that way, and I don’t want to misread something. I didn’t have any other context, just you running off and being gone for however long. Then what you said earlier…well, yeah.” Whether intentional or not, he was drawing lines. Ones she had quickly ran past the last time around. "I am glad that your family holds so much value, I confused that. I’m sorry, you’re right. We just met and I’m not entitled to your personal life.” Even with all of this, he still said bullies - her included? There was no changing this. The annoyance in his tone was clear, even if she wanted to ask anything else, it was not very inviting. “I don’t know, are you up for answering? Or we’re still strangers?”

Jenny knew Laurel’s schedule, being roommates and all. After messing with Eli, she went to grab a quick bite and grabbed something for Laurel after class. She figured if she showed up with lunch, plans would be decided for her. Walking down the empty hallway, she was surprised to see Laurel outside of class but soon it made sense. There he was with her too. Rolling her eyes once, she willed her best smile and walked right towards them. “Hey guys! Ugh, you guys look so cute - right out of a movie! No class today? I came to meet you for lunch, but didn’t think you’d be out so early! You could join us!” She directed at Eli, though she knew that was unlikely.

Despite himself he moved the books and made room for her next to him. "Does it matter?" It seemed laurel wasn't going to let it go so he sighed. "The bully brigade. Your friend Jenny is the leader. She made it seem like you knew and have just been playing a game with me because you're bored. Which if that's the case, I want no part of it. Just leave me alone. I'm not a pet project."

"I called her what I did because that's what she is. I don't tend to say something I don't fucking mean." The rage against Jenny was strong but he kept his even tempered tone. "She's made it her personal hobby to keep badgering me just because we keep hanging out. You must like me better than her might be going around in her head. I don't want trouble. I can see my way out of this equation just do me a favor and leave me out of it. You've had your fun. Had your kiss. Let me go back to obscurity. You can go back to her. Since she's so scared to lose you to a nobody. Her words not mine."

He sat there in silence too exhausted to get up and walk away. The flight had him wired enough not to sleep and he was paying for it now. His eyebrows knitted together as their conversation came to mind. "Why on earth would you think I'd kiss you if I had someone back home? What kind of asshole do you take me for." Girlfriend made him snicker. "Doing this much for a girlfriend," he shook his head. "No one is worth this much fucking effort. I didn't run away from you because I wanted you to think I was playing. I'm sorry but we've just met. There's no questions or hesitation when my family calls. Least of all my little sister. Could I have been more straight forward , sure but no one is entitled to my personal life. Especially bullies. It's earned."

Setting his arms over his knees he watched the empty hallways. "Anything else you need to know?" He had been annoyed but he also wanted to be left alone. If this was a trick then he'd rather have Laurel pull the bandaid off.

[betterthanyalls]

Can u do a Reader x epic various where y/n is apart of Ody's crew and during the end of thunder bringer Zeus kidnaps y/n and takes them to Olympus instead of letting them either drown or get washed up onto Calypso's island?🥰🥰🤩🤩 It'd be cool if during God games or something Athena finds out what Zeus did and now instead of the games being just to free Ody from Calypso's island, it's ALSO about freeing y/n from Olympus and reuniting them with Odysseus?? Sorry if this doesn't make sense or if it's too much work lol, just write this however you want if you even wanna write it at all teehee ^^"

blinks i think i went through 37 different emotions while writing this, most of them were bad. Ok so, I'm not sure how good this is but please don't kill me😇 TW: Zeus gives reader Ganymede treatment

Masterlist

Stolen Soldier

Various (kind of) x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Angst

Words: 1.6K

Published: 11-4-2024

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

Thunder roared, winds whipped, and waves rocked the lone ship back and forth. Standing on the bow of the ship was a figure of divine power and presence, waiting with a wicked grin. “Choose,” the king of the gods demanded harshly.

“Choose?” Odysseus muttered, looking at Zeus in fear. “Someone’s got to die today, and you have got the final say. You,” he pointed to Odysseus before gesturing to the rest of the crew, “or your crew.”

The captain looked to his crew, locking eyes with Y/n—his best friend, his rock, his shelter. He took a shaky breath, looking back to Zeus in desperation.

“Please don’t make me do this; don’t make me do this,” Odysseus begged. His mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. Looking back at his crew, he saw a range of emotions: anger, hurt, terror, grief, and more. Taking a daring glance at his closest friend, the soldier felt his heart shatter. Holding back tears, Y/n gave him a hesitant nod to show it was ok.

Then, a new voice tore his gaze away from his crew. Looking out over the sea and to the clouds, a figure of familiarity seemed to take place within the clouds. Illusion or not, that was his wife.

Penelope. Odysseus took staggering steps across the shaking boat and to the edge. Both of his hands latched to the wooden railing, his eyes never moving from the clouded position of his partner. Memories flooded his judgment, from his crew and Y/n, to his family waiting for him. “Captain?” A voice of uncertainty spoke up. Eurylochus. The said captain couldn’t even dare face his right-hand man as the sky darkened and Penelope faded back to the clouds.

“I have to see her," Odysseus whispered, tears brimming in his eyes as he finally looked back at his crew. The general saw all of the hurt and betrayal in his men’s expressions. The fear hurt the most to see. “But we’ll die,” Eurylochus pleaded. Odysseus knew he would regret this option until his final breath. Once he got home, how would he tell Ctimene he was the cause of her husband's death? “I know,” Odysseus’ voice broke, a few stray droplets not belonging to the storm washed down his cheeks. 

At the end of those words, the thunder roared, and Zeus grinned evilly. Zeus rose above the clouds, lightning moving to gather in his raised hand.

“Thunder, bring her through the wringer.” The crew drew their weapons in defense, charging towards Odysseus with murderous intent. Y/n stood away from the fight, not daring to lift any sort of weapon against her best friend.

“Show her I'm the judgment call. The one who makes her kingdom fall. Lightning, wield her, use and yield her.” 

As the crew closed in on their captain, the air started to become tense and electrified. Y/n took a step back from the chaos, looking up to see a phenomenon of heavenly power. “Show her what she can’t conceal; her true nature will be revealed.”

A bright light enclosed the surrounding sky, ripping down to the center of the ship. In an instant, a deafening crack sounded, and all light faded to black. Y/n felt like her soul was being ripped apart as she opened her mouth to scream her pain, but no noise came out. Then she felt a drop, only to be brought into a suffocating embrace of cold. Finally, her mind cut out. ~~~~~ Y/n felt different. She didn’t sense the shivering water anymore, but instead a subtle warmth. It took a few minutes, but eventually she managed to peek open her eyes. Y/n wasn’t on a ship in the middle of the sea with the night sky above anymore, but instead there was a grand painting on the ceiling of white marble overhead. Looking around slowly, the young woman saw an unfamiliar scene.

A lavish bedroom surrounded her, furnishings a king could only dream of sitting like average decor in each nook and cranny. Moving her hands, Y/n felt the silk sheets of a glorious bed below her. Ivory blankets fell from her body as she slowly rose up from her position. Placing her feet on the cold marble flooring, the mortal stepped through the room. It wasn’t long before she found herself in front of a floor-length mirror. 

White and gold fabric draped down on her body—a dress fit for a goddess of divine origin. Confusion clouded her eyes as she scanned her new attire. That puzzlement was quickly replaced with fear as two wooden doors opened, revealing an even more confusing sight.

A tall man wearing a white toga entered the room without a care of knocking. Striding to where Y/n stood, she instinctively took steps back from him. “My dear, why do you back away?” The smile on his face was unnerving, especially with the nickname. Y/n recognized that voice immediately, terror coursing through her veins as her lips parted to let out a gasp.

“Zeus.”

The god in question continued to walk towards her with that two-faced smile until he backed the mortal into a wall. “Mmm, you’re as smart as you are beautiful,” he took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Y/n shuddered in disgust and fear; her heart raced faster than a chariot racer's steeds. She wanted to push him away, but her body felt locked in place. Y/n tried to speak, but her lips were closed tightly like a stone wall. “Hm, dear, I think I know a dress that’d fit your body much better. Let me help.”

~~~~~

Within only the second morning of the Heavenly Palace, Y/n had the overwhelming urge to jump off. But she wouldn’t be allowed such a pleasure with the god at her side. Zeus had taken it upon himself to guide the mortal on a tour through Olympus, which only influenced her thoughts. 

Y/n kept her eyes on Zeus every second. Not out of intrigue or anything of that sort, but of apprehension. Each movement of his that was near her direction, the mortal would tense up and pause everything. Soon enough, the king of Olypmus noticed and grinned with faux comfort. “Dear, you seem tense. Allow me to ease you.” ~~~~~ Day after day. Weeks after week. Zeus never let Y/n leave his side, threatening any god or goddess who even dared to give her a sympathetic glance. The woman was a shell of who she once was. Her eyes sunk and her soul depleted; she felt her life draining by the day. Not in mortality-wise, no Zeus would never let her perish. But in consideration of her spirit.

Each night she would cry until no more salt would leave, leaving only choking sobs. Each night she was infiltrated by the king of Olympus. Y/n would stare at herself in the mirror, vomit building in her throat as her eyes trailed down to every mark on her body. No spot was untouched. No matter how hard she tried, Y/n could never wash off the sin. The mortal would scrub her skin until she was raw and bleeding, but the phantom touches remained.

Each night she missed her home and friends more and more. Where was Odysseus now? Did he forget all about her when he returned to Ithaca? What about Penelope? Would she miss her best friend? 

Seven years. Seven years of misery, force, and agony. Seven years of physical and mental torture she endured to no fault.

But soon, like all stories, her savior arrived. ~~~~~

Athena stood in front of her father, spear and shield in hand, while staring into the king’s eyes murderously.

“I’ve played your game and won. Release them,” the goddess of wisdom demanded, shifting her gaze to where Y/n stood anxiously beside Zeus’ throne. The mortal had gone through so much, and Athena was determined to save her. 

Zeus glowered down at his daughter, rage covering his expression. “You dare to defy me? To make me feel shame?” He growled, his fists clenching so tight that his knuckles turned a bright alabaster. “No one beats me; no one wins my game!”

The lightning god stood up threateningly, his hands glowing a static yellow. “Thunder, bring her through the wringer!” The air was caught in Y/n’s throat at the familiar words, her eyes wide in horror. Zeus rose up, the electricity in his hands growing as the woman noticed the alarmed looks on the other god’s expressions. “Show her I’m the judgment call, the one who makes her kingdom FALL!” With a vociferous burst, he threw the lightning at his daughter, forcing her back onto the floor. Once the light faded, everyone looked to see the warrior lying face down, her body still as ice. “Is she dead?” the voice of her brother Ares asked hesitantly. Y/n thought back to every moment her and Odysseus had been with Athena. They were an unstoppable force together. Now though, Y/n only wanted to rush to the goddess side.  Before anyone could do anything, Athena struggled to her feet, holding her aegis in defense while pointing the spear tip to her father.

Zeus’ look of utter shock soon turned to rage at her defiance. In response, he sent a barrage of bolts towards his favorite child. Against this attack, the war patroness held her shield strong and pushed against the force, making her way to her father.

Finally, at the feet of the king, she grabbed his arm and fell to her knees.

“Let them go, please. Let them go.” Her plea was finished as the goddess collapsed, her breath slowing to a stop.

[starryalpacasstuff]

LITBC ep 3 & 4: When they're homophobic but you love them

It took me a while to finally watch the third and fourth episodes because it's been diwali season, but having finally watched them I think I can quite confidently say that this part will probably end up as my favourite of the four. I've been having a really hard time trying to figure out how to express my feelings about this episode, because frankly I'm not even sure what those feelings are myself.

I think, surprisingly enough, this section actually hit me harder in the show than it did in the book. The book definitely had more teeth to it and felt far darker than the show, and this may seem counterintuitive, but I think it was because the show continues to be more grounded in the present that the story that it felt more visceral. As a few people have already noted, in the book the reader not only follows only Young's perspective, but there's also Young's bitter hindsight that colours his retelling of the story. Even when he acknowledges how enamoured he used to be with Hyung, it's again accompanied by his resentful commentary. In contrast, with the show we experience Go Young's emotions right along with him: love, confusion, disappointment, desperation, heartbreak, and everything in between. And as @lurkingshan notes here, this makes it all the more brutal when it all comes crashing down. Something else is that, while these episodes did not afford Go Young's mother and Young-soo the same sympathy the previous episodes did for Mi Ae and Nam Gyu, it's true that the wider lens and absence of Young's bitter monologue helped me, as the audience—how do I say this—see the two characters as their own people rather than just characters in Go Young's story. It emphasizes the greyness of morality in the characters. Young-soo is no doubt a bastard, but he's also a product of the environment he was raised in, and everything about him is a cry for help; help he will not accept. And Go Young's mother is an overbearing religious zealot who, when she realized that she couldn't 'fix' her son, resolved to pretend as though her son wasn't gay for the rest of her life; a social contract I am intimately familiar with. But she's also a single mother who braved a patriarchal society to bring up her son and she loves him in ways she will never express to him. The grey morality of the characters allows the audience to see why Go Young loved them and in turn, feel their loss along with him. I feel incomprehensibly sad when I think of the way both characters ruined their relationships with Go Young because they couldn't (wouldn't?) understand. Because he loved them, even though they were homophobic, but their relationships could never be the same after he knew.

Being constantly surrounded by homophobia is suffocating and exhausting, and it's something I know well. Even when it's not being discussed, sometimes just the knowledge of the way the people around you all hate 'people like you' can be incredibly overwhelming; it weighs you down. Go Young having to work through the complexities of loving people who were homophobic, people who hated an integral part of him felt so real to me because it's real life for me. Him going back to Young-soo over and over again even when he was rapidly becoming aware of Young-soo's beliefs. The quiet way in which both mother and son skirt around his sexuality. His brief happiness when he sees the scrapbook his mother made, and the photo that she returned to him. I'm just repeating the same words over and over now but the emotions felt so visceral; it made me feel seen. Go Young seemed so tired whenever he was around his mother and I don't think I need to say anything about how Young-soo's parting words affected him. It's something that hit way too close to home for me; that dawning realization that even more of your world stands against a core part of you than you'd thought, and that you love it anyways.

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision