#I don’t know how people find the time or energy to watch things anymore

[cornedbeefhashtags]

Yeah so have you started the x files yet

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oh, snap!

summary: you and jake sim might have been best friends once upon a time, but not anymore. now, you barely talk to each other—so you decide to prove the universe wrong when you find out that he’s your soulmate, because there’s no way both of you are compatible.

⇢ pairing: jake sim x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers au, soulmate au, college au ⇢ word count: 7.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual jokes, soulmate lore i made up ⇢ a/n: this is a fic i had posted on my now deactivated blog, which i’ve made minor modifications to. thanks for reading!

The universe has to be fucking with you.

You aren’t one to believe in manifestation or the law of attraction or whatever other nonsense your TikTok feed provides you with. You think it’s a total waste of time, energy, and resources. 

Right now, however, you’re manifesting with all your might—eyes screwed tightly shut, hands clasped in front of your chest, only one thought running through your head: Please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be—

You open one eye cautiously. You lift up the pinkie finger of your right hand equally carefully. 

Fuck.

You drop your hands and let your head fall onto the desk in front of you. A dull thud echoes around you, and normally, you would be apologetic since you’re at the library, but because you’re wallowing in self-pity you can’t bring yourself to care. A frown mars your forehead. Maybe you’re manifesting wrong. Is that even a thing? Perhaps you should ask your friend Yizhou how to do it; she’s pretty popular on Instagram so surely she’d have some idea. Maybe one of her fellow influencer friends is a manifester. (Is that what they call it?)

You lift your head up and stare morosely at the red thread twined around your little finger. It winds down the floor, swirling and looping in gentle curves. You glare at the person it’s connected to.

Jake Sim, that little piece of shit.

The object of your disdain is seated one table away from yours. He’s hunched over his laptop, occasionally scribbling something into the messy notebook in front of him. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, and every time he pushes them back up, you feel a tug on your finger. 

This brings you to the following question: Does he not know you’re his soulmate?

You have three answers. One: He knows, but he doesn’t care. Two: He doesn’t know. Three: He doesn’t care.

The second option is rare but not unheard of. There have been several cases where people vehemently deny the existence of soulmates and refuse to believe in it. Such people never get to see the red thread that is wrapped around their finger, even though it exists. Truthfully, you feel bad for the people on the other side of the thread—the non-believer’s alleged soulmate. They will forever watch from afar, never going too close, but never straying away either. It sounds lonely, more than anything else. 

You push that thought away. If Jake doesn’t know, it should be a good thing, right? You don’t need a soulmate to survive. You can just continue with your life as it is—attending classes, hanging out with your friends… Yeah, you’re happy with everything you have.

Another tug at your pinkie forces out an annoyed huff from your mouth. You glare at the perpetrator, still engrossed in his work. To be fair, you didn’t know Jake was your soulmate until very recently either. You knew the thread existed but didn’t know who it was connected to. When you were younger, you and your friends would have tons of fun pulling at the thread to annoy your unknown soulmate. Getting a pull back was a source of glee for seven-year-old you. Now, it just fills you with dread.

“Oi.” Someone’s breath tickles your ear.

“Fucking hell!” 

You swat at your best friend’s face, successfully smacking his cheek. Taehyun grunts in pain. “Uncalled for.”

“What the fuck, Taehyun?” You grouse. “Don’t scare me like that. Sorry ‘bout your cheek.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sitting down on the chair next to you and dumping his tote bag on the table. “I’d feel better if you actually meant your apology. Also, why aren’t you studying? Our midterms start in a week and staring at Lover Boy isn’t gonna help you pass your classes.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “And I was… studying.”

“Right. That’s exactly why none of your books are open.”

“Shut up, people are staring.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. You’re not wrong—people are staring. Well, specifically, one person. You flex your little finger a little, straightening it out and then bending it again. If Jake feels any sort of yank, he doesn’t show it. Not that you’re interested, of course. You’re just… observing. So is he, clearly. He peers over his glasses at you both, his expression not betraying anything.

You flinch when Taehyun pinches your side. Turning back to him, you’re ready to yell at him for being an annoying asshole, when he fixes you with a pitying sort of look. You swallow.

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t overthink, okay? He’s alone right now, you might as well talk to him about this.”

You blink uneasily, eyes flitting between your friend and the unopened book in front of you.

“How long are you gonna avoid him? You’ve been hiding this for months. And… he has a right to know,” Taehyun finishes, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

You swallow again, around the lump in your throat that’s been sitting there for months. You found out that Jake was your soulmate months ago. Yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to confront him or tell him about it. A far cry from the whole entire concept of soulmates—isn’t he supposed to be your missing puzzle piece? Certainly not, if you’re too nervous to even approach him. The universe must have made a mistake. Whatever higher being exists must have assigned you to the wrong person.

Taehyun is right, though. (You’re not going to admit it to him, of course; there’s no need to boost his already inflated ego.)

Jake Sim does have a right to know that he’s your soulmate. 

You shift uncomfortably. Taehyun drops his gaze with a sigh. “I know you two have a history but can’t you just sort this out?”

“I… can’t,” you say lamely. 

Your best friend looks sadly at you. You look away, fidgeting with the cover of your textbook. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a girl make her way to Jake’s table. He perks up immediately, greeting her with a soft smile. She sits down next to him and grabs Jake’s laptop, angling it towards her like it’s second nature. It probably is, you think bitterly.

Another reason why you can’t tell Jake Sim about this whole Situation: He has a girlfriend.

Park Chaerin meets your eyes and waves at you cheerfully. You wave back, feeling sick to your stomach.

You press the tip of your pen into your notebook, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Even the half-empty cup of coffee next to your laptop has done little to wake you up. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, and as a night owl, you vehemently dislike getting up early. Your professor rattles on about an assignment due in a week. You stifle another yawn behind your hand.

Feeling a yank on your little finger, you press the palm of your hand on the desk and ignore it. Jake Sim is sitting right next to you—courtesy of both of you having arrived five minutes late, and the only seats left were in the last row. Your Friday 8 AM lecture on the Quantum Theory of Electromagnetism is normally interesting, but Professor Jang makes even the most stimulating topics seem dry. You usually end up resorting to self-study sessions in order to understand everything. 

Jake is scribbling something next to you. He’s probably doodling. He used to do that a lot when he was little, too. You recall pages upon pages of maths notes interspersed with tiny drawings of dinosaurs and dragons in the margins. They had made you laugh at the time. 

“Hey,” he whispers.

You blink.

“Hi,” you say.

Jake grins at you—and you’re dazzled, for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve had that smile of his being directed at you. You’ve seen him smile at other people on campus—his new friends, his girlfriend, acquaintances—all from afar, and you push down the bitter sting of rejection that pricks you every time. After so many months, it feels like you were in a pitch-black room all this time, and someone suddenly turned on the lights. It’s blinding.

Your former friend caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer. Just to be polite, you add, “...Did you?”

“Kind of.” Jake winces.

“Oh.”

“I was trying to understand the topic before this. Y’know—” he meets your eyes expectantly— “the whole Kronig-Penney model and the Bloch function and all that. I spent, like, two hours on them,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, those are kinda difficult,” you offer.

You’re still perplexed by this whole situation. Admittedly, after weeks of minimal contact with your childhood best friend, this isn’t how you imagined your reunion would go. All awkwardness aside, however, it feels… nice, talking to him again. It’s hard to move past the last few months, but there’s nothing wrong with this, right? You can think of it as two classmates bonding over a hard course they willingly chose. Two classmates who’ve known each other since they were toddlers just learning to walk, but you deliberately don’t think of that.

Jake hums. “The graphs get super confusing.”

“I guess,” you say. 

He leans forward abruptly, elbows knocking on the edge of the desk. His stare on you is intent, focused. “Is your number still the same?”

You gape at him, mouth open like a blown-out fish. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“So I can text you if I don’t understand anything,” Jake says simply, easily, still sporting that same easygoing smile of his. Your stomach twists into knots, and you force yourself to appear calm and not like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I think you should’ve asked me first,” you manage to say.

He looks at you strangely, a dip in his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Why, indeed.

Jake has known you for years; this is an undeniable fact. Even now, he probably knows you better than anyone else does—or ever could. So there’s absolutely no way he can’t make sense of the stifling awkwardness that surrounds you both.

However, the same holds true for you: You know Jake Sim just as well as he knows you. You know he’s trying to bridge a gap, make amends in a way only he does. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it in stride.

You crack a small smile. “Fair enough.”

He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers idly, before saying, “I’ll text you about other stuff, too.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

Jake is all smiles and sunshine. He starts doodling again—what looks like a misshapen traffic cone of some sort. You look away, and tuck this little slice of goldenness into your rapidly rabbiting heart. 

This is not good. You pay no heed to the thread around your little finger, and pick up your own pen. Angling your notebook away from your deskmate, you begin to write.

REASONS WHY JAKE SIM CANNOT BE MY SOULMATE FUCK THIS SHIT IM OUT

#1. he doesn’t know you as well as he should (okay, maybe he does)

You have no clue how you ended up studying with Jake Sim and Park Chaerin, of all people.

Your own friends, Kang Taehyun and Kim Gaeul are utterly nonplussed at this new situation. You give them a helpless shrug when they elbow each other and raise their eyebrows at you. The library is fairly empty at this hour, which makes it an ideal time to study without the distractions of other people. Of course, you didn’t consider the two people who’ve decided you’re a physics expert and require your guidance.

You humour them because you’re a nice person—not because you’re weak to Jake’s entreaties and his offer of buying you food for a whole week.

Chaerin smiles at your friends. “Hey, guys! Come join us.”

Taehyun is the first to blink out of his confusion. He moves forward, pulling out the chair opposite yours and settling down. “Thanks. We won’t bother you guys much.”

Gaeul nods her head. “Yeah, I have a bunch of assignments to finish.” She chuckles nervously, smoothing out her hair.

“No problem,” Jake supplies. “Your friend is super smart.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows, pointing an incredulous finger at you. “You mean…?”

“Hey!” You swing your leg and kick Taehyun’s shin from under the table. He winces in pain. Gaeul giggles, and so does Chaerin. Jake lets out an amused snort.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you say, “this bit isn’t that important from a test point of view, so just go over it to get the general idea.” You mark the paragraph you were referring to with a pencil.

Chaerin and Jake nod in tandem, like a pair of bobbleheads. You bite your lip to stifle your smile—they’re so perfect together, it’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s end of the string was connected to Chaerin’s instead. Is that even possible? You’ll have to google it up.

The thought puts a significant damper on your mood, and you turn away, drawing back from the pair sitting next to you. 

Instead, you lock eyes with Taehyun, who’s glaring at you with enough intensity to drill a hole through your forehead. Talk to him, he mouths. You give him a small shake of your head.

You can’t talk to him about anything serious. Explaining physics to him and his girlfriend in the presence of your own best friends is a sort of safe zone; you don’t have to discuss anything personal whatsoever. All you have to do is prattle off a list of formulae and derivations and graphs, and hope that what you’re telling them to study is actually going to be asked on your midterm next week.

Taehyun rolls his eyes so hard, you wonder how they haven’t popped out of their sockets. He’s exasperated, you can tell—and Gaeul has probably been receiving the brunt of it all, because he would never outrightly say he’s upset with you. He would rant to Gaeul instead, trusting that she would tell you everything he told her but more nicely. That’s how your little trio circles back to each other.

You shift uncomfortably. Gaeul catches your eye and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. Your lips twitch upwards slightly.

“Wow,” Chaerin says, “I can’t believe we finished a whole unit in, like, one and a half hours.” She directs the next part to you. “You’re really smart. Don’t listen to Taehyun.”

“Y/N doesn’t listen to me anyway,” your friend grumbles. Gaeul hides her snort behind her styrofoam cup of coffee.

Speaking of which, you could really use some caffeine too. Anything to get away from Jake Sim and his quiet, knowing… aura, is the word you settle for. He wasn’t always this quiet—he used to be loud and raucous when it was just the two of you in high school—so while this new development isn’t surprising, it certainly is jarring.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you announce to the table at large. “Anyone wanna come with?”

“I’ll come,” Jake says immediately. “I owe you for teaching us.”

“Oh, um.” You attempt to smile. “I—”

“Please go,” Taehyun says suddenly, his tone beseeching. “I need coffee too but I don’t trust Y/N to not put salt in mine or something.”

You gape at him, betrayal flooding your features. Gaeul snorts again. Chaerin just looks at you and Jake alternately. Jake’s lips twitch upwards. “Y/N still does that?”

You whirl around to face him. “What?”

“Oh, this is getting interesting,” Gaeul pipes up. “Do elaborate.”

“I second that,” Chaerin adds. 

You feel your cheeks and the back of your neck heat up. You want to implore your former best friend to keep his pretty mouth shut, but your ego doesn’t let you grovel in front of three other people. Jake raises his eyebrows, lips parting to form a small ‘o’. He smiles, a little bit sheepish. Before he can say anything, you intervene.

“That was one time, Taehyun!” you snap. “And it was by accident. Why would I willingly put salt in your coffee?”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at you, but inside, you know he’s laughing uncontrollably at your predicament. “Who knows? You might wanna poison me for being cooler than you.”

“What is this, high school? And why the fuck would I want a murder on my hands? I’m too young to go to jail.”

Chaerin tries to muffle her giggles with her hand. Both you and Taehyun turn simultaneously to look at her. “Sorry.” She giggles again. “You two talk like an old married couple.”

“Gross,” you say, at the same time Taehyun draws out an, “Ew,” and extends the last syllable like a child in kindergarten.

“Oh my God,” Gaeul says. “Chaerin, you’re a genius. I see it too.”

“Not you too,” Taehyun groans.

The two begin bickering again, and Chaerin joins them with enthusiasm, adding her own little tidbits of support for Gaeul in between the conversation. During all this, Jake remains remarkably quiet, an amused smile tugging on his lips. 

You turn to him, a rush of sudden embarrassment making your cheeks heat up. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you like this—laughing and joking around with your friends. Friends that don’t include him. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.” 

You and Jake push your chairs back under the table and exit the library. The coffee shop is two storeys down, so you make a beeline for the staircase. Your former best friend follows you, his undone shoelaces slapping on the tiles. He still doesn’t tie his shoelaces properly, then. Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Hey, by the way,” he says, “I was gonna tell Taehyun about the time I put salt in your coffee.”

“...I know.” Your answer is short, clipped. You force your shoulders to relax—there’s no need to tense up when Jake Sim is around.

“Oh. Uh, okay then.” 

You don’t look at him, but you’re fairly certain he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s feeling awkward: A little rub of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It’s a tic he’s always had, from the time you were in elementary school, and it isn’t any different now.

A stifling silence falls upon you both. You almost wish Taehyun and Gaeul were here, bringing Chaerin with them in tow. The three of them seemed to get along well; the chances of the five of you hanging out outside of college are high, now.

Of course, that also means you and Jake will have to pretend like everything’s alright between you both, and that your decades-long friendship wasn’t shattered by one single argument.

You round the corner to the staircase and begin the descent downwards. Jake holds onto the railing on the other side. Despite everything, you think Jake is the braver one between you two. 

He breaks the silence as easily as he broke your heart, and asks:

“Do you still take your macchiato with two packets of sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

#2. he wants to be friends again (why?)

You blame Kang Taehyun for this.

Of course he had to forget to pick up the pizza from the local restaurant before coming back to his place. Of course he didn’t check the weather forecast beforehand, and even if he did, of course he didn’t tell you it was going to rain. Of fucking course he asks you to pick up the food for him because your classes only ended at 4 and the get-together to celebrate the end of midterms was at 4:30.

If you had the power, you would curse your best friend to oblivion. You grip your phone in your hand, gritting your teeth and staring down at the screen.

Group Chat: the holy trinity of dumbasses 🤡 [16:12] You: it’s fukcing pouring here and i didnt bring my car [16:12] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): *Fucking [16:13] You: yeah it’s something you’ve never done before [16:13] You: i have the pizza [16:13] You: come and pick me up or im throwing it in the dustbin. [16:14] gaeul 🤍: u shouldn’t waste food y/n >:( [16:14] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): You’re making Gaeul cry >:( [16:14] gaeul 🤍: girl what [16:15] You: aw cute [16:15] You: seriously tho [16:16] You: come pick me up [16:17] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): OK, I’m on my way [16:17] You: FUCKING FINALLY

The plastic bag with all the pizza boxes dangles off your wrist, cutting into your skin. The steps that lead to the inside of the restaurant are slick with rainwater. You open Instagram and scroll through your feed mindlessly, clicking on your classmates’ stories. 

You shiver. Rainy weather always makes the temperature drop by several degrees, and your flimsy jacket isn’t enough to drive away the chill. Forget Taehyun, maybe you should’ve checked the forecast instead. Sometimes (read: most of the time) you can be just as stupid as him. You wonder how Gaeul puts up with the single brain cell you and Taehyun toss between each other like a hot potato.

Honestly, you just want to go somewhere where it’s dry and warm.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and it takes you a whole minute to comprehend the name that shows up on the caller ID.

Jake Sim.

Why is Jake Sim calling you?

You chew on your lip nervously before swiping your thumb up and accepting his call. Bringing your phone to your ear, you let the plastic bag sway gently. The line is silent for a few seconds, as though neither of you can comprehend the fact that you’re on a call with each other. It makes sense; this is the first time in months he’s calling you.

Finally, Jake’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m outside. Can you see me?”

“I, uh.” You look around quickly. The parking lot in front of you is mostly empty, a good chunk of people having escaped the rain. It’s not hard to make out the solitary figure standing outside a beaten-down Toyota, holding an umbrella aloft. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Oh, good,” he says. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Nope. Just… pizza.”

Jake makes a noise that sounds like a warbled chuckle. “Okay, I’m coming over there.”

“...Okay.”

For some strange reason, you don’t feel like ending the call. You fumble for something to say, because it’s weird just being on a call with someone you can literally see. The tug on your little finger as he comes closer to you makes a lump form in your throat. You take a deep breath and push it down into your stomach. 

“You haven’t changed your car,” you say lightly.

Jake hums, the sound so familiar it doesn’t even surprise you until you register it. “Can’t afford a new one. Plus, it works decently.”

He strides over to you, and it’s unnecessarily sexy—the way he holds the black umbrella up with one hand and his phone to his ear with the other. You can see the speckles of rain on his grey hoodie where the raindrops bounce off the ends of the umbrella. His hair is swept to the side, lips pink with chapstick. Another yank on your pinkie finger; you clench your fist.

“Please,” you snort. “The last time I was in it, it took twenty minutes to start the engine. That was a year ago, Jake.”

He’s closer now, nearing the steps. His eyes don’t leave yours. They trace over all your features, as though he’s committing you to memory—you, with your tangled hair and tired eye bags, chapped lips and dirty sneakers. You swallow.

He puts his phone down and speaks to you directly. “I think that was the driver’s fault. But don’t worry, I can drive better now.”

You let your hand drop limply to your side. 

“Hi,” Jake says.

“Hi again,” you manage to say.

“Here, let me take that.” He reaches out for the pizza bag, but you don’t give it to him.

“It’s fine. Just… hold up the umbrella and don’t get us wet.”

Jake laughs, a short, bright sound. “I won’t.”

You step towards him, quickly slipping underneath the shelter of the umbrella above your head. It’s a tight fit—one of your shoulders pokes out, as does one of his. You grimace when your sleeve gets splattered with rain.

Jake leads the way to his ancient car, scratched and scuffed with years of use. It was his dad’s old one, a gift for him on his seventeenth birthday, one that his mom had told you about to surprise him with. It seems like a bygone history now.

“I thought Taehyun was gonna come,” you comment.

Jake looks at you strangely. “I thought you asked for me to come pick you up.”

“I… did?” You gasp at the realisation. Kang Taehyun, that fucker. “I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “Taehyun probably told you that I was stuck in the rain.”

“He did,” Jake confirms. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh… okay, then.” Still, you feel guilty. Jake came all the way in the rain just because your best friend couldn’t stop being a meddling little nincompoop.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Jake continues. His voice sounds deliberately casual. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah. I guess.”

Jake stops near his car, fishing around in his pocket for the keys. “Look, I—I know things haven’t been the same lately, but I—” he licks his lips, another nervous tic of his— “I want you to know that I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. Okay?”

You blink, sucking in a breath sharply. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, okay,” you say lamely.

Jake nods once, not meeting your eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found friends like Gaeul and Taehyun. They’re good people.”

“So is Chaerin,” you say. “And so is Sunghoon.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly, unlocking the door. “And so are you.”

Sometimes, you wonder if Jake also feels a pull on his little finger. If he does, does he ever wonder where it’s from? Or does he not feel it at all? You bend your finger and shuffle into the passenger side of his car. He closes the door for you before crossing over to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Whatever the case is, one thing is for sure: Jake Sim is your soulmate, and even if he wasn’t, you’d still be in love with him.

Just like you were one year ago.

#3. his parents adore you (and so do you, but there’s always the yearning and the aching)

“Hey, mom and dad are asking when you’re gonna visit again.”

Jake swings into your periphery, putting his phone back in his pocket. His mom had called about fifteen minutes ago to make plans for Jake to go home over the weekend. Potentially, you could also go—your childhood home is right next to his. It’s been a while since you last visited; your little sister sends you texts about how much she misses you.

He sits down on the chair next to yours, looking at you expectantly. You’re at your favourite spot in the library, one that’s been designated as you and your friends’ table. Jake and Chaerin have been officially integrated into your tiny trio; Gaeul and Chaerin get along really well, and Taehyun and Jake follow the same sports teams. Occasionally, their other friend, Park Sunghoon, joins you but he’s very quiet and mostly keeps to himself.

You don’t look up from your laptop screen when you answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Huh. Mom says you’ve said that to your mom every time she asks.”

Things between you and Jake have reached a semblance of normalcy, too. It’s not the same as it used to be—it can never be the same as it used to be—but at least the pang you feel in your chest whenever he talks to you has dulled somewhat. 

“I’ve been busy,” you say vaguely. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Jake retorts. “Our midterms were over a week ago. What’re you waiting for?”

You don’t reply. He waits for a moment before saying, “I could drive you.”

That gets your full attention. Your gaze snaps to him, mouth pressed together. 

“I mean, we literally live right next to each other, Y/N,” he continues. “It’ll save gas. And the environment.”

You snort. “Your car is more of a hazard to the environment than us not carpooling is.”

“You don’t know how to drive,” he deadpans.

“That’s not true! I can drive, I just choose not to. Saving the environment and all.” You point an accusing finger at him. “If you really care about the environment, you should take the bus home with me.”

Jake shrugs loosely. “I don’t care how we go home, as long as you come with me. I’m sure your sister misses you too.”

There it is again: That easy, light way he says things. Nonchalant and unaffected—though it affects you more than it should.

“You’ll pay for the tickets?” 

Jake’s grin is golden. “If that’s what it takes.”

That’s how you find yourself crammed in between Jake Sim and an old auntie with a flower-patterned bandana, on the bus back to your hometown three days later. The auntie gives you and Jake a few cookies she’d packed for her grandchildren, and then promptly falls asleep on your shoulder (Jake couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes when he saw the line of drool she’d left on your shirt sleeve). He offers you his own shoulder in case you want to sleep too; your cheeks heat up at the thought. It’s a bumpy ride, but after stopping at the bus stop nearest to your house, Flower Auntie sends you off with a few more cookies and a box of homemade kimchi, and you and Jake begin walking back to your neighbourhood.

Some things have changed—the playground is being renovated, your old elementary school is being repainted, the Kims who owned the local ramen shop retired and set the place up for rent. But at its heart, it’s all the same, you think. Kids still run around holding warm bungeoppang from street stalls and cartons of strawberry milk from the convenience store. Their mothers sit around and gossip about celebrities and complain about their husbands. People working corporate jobs curse under their breaths about their bosses and their unforgiving schedules. It’s late in the evening when you arrive, a bag containing all of Flower Auntie’s goodies hanging off Jake’s arm. All the local eateries are opening up for the dinner rush, drawing people in with the offer of free beer and soju for every meal purchased. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jake says, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

Despite everything, it’s still home.

The two of you cross the streets to your houses, sneakers slapping against the pavement. Several neighbours who’ve seen you both grow up call out and wave hello. You’re stopped by Mrs. Lee’s son, Heeseung, who makes you both promise to go out for dinner with him tomorrow. 

Finally, you stand in front of your childhood home. The rusted door and peeling-off paint greets you like a best friend. You shoulder your backpack and ring the doorbell, saying goodbye to Jake as he walks into his own house.

The door swings open—only to reveal Mrs. Sim standing at your doorway. Before you can voice your confusion, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling your name into your hair.

“Welcome home,” she says, moving aside and letting you in. “Your mother is in the kitchen. She’s just started making dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” You grin. “It’s great to see you, Mrs. Sim.”

“I swear you love Y/N more than me.”

You turn around and see Jake standing by the door, an affectionate look in his eyes. You direct your grin at him, too.

“Suck it up, loser.”

Jake’s guffaw rings in your ears even when your sister screams with unabashed joy as soon as she sees you.

#4. he broke your heart once (he could do it again)

You stare at the red thread wrapped around your finger. It’s dulled a bit now, compared to how it was a few years ago. Some of its shine is lost; it looks more opaque now. You crook your finger experimentally, knowing it's futile but still holding on to some hope that maybe Jake will feel it too.

To live for the hope of it all, as a wise song-writer once penned.

You startle when Jake sets a mug of coffee in front of you. His house is empty—your mother and Mrs. Sim went to buy groceries together and his father is out of the city on a business trip. Your sister is hanging out with her friends but told you to call her if you needed anything.

“Here you go,” Jake says, sitting down on the chair next to you. “Have some and then we can go buy some hangover soup.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling your fingers around the mug and savouring its warmth. The liquid inside is not too bitter, but not too sweet either—just how you like it.

“Feeling any better?”

You wince. Going out for dinner with Heeseung meant drinks were also attached. Being back in your hometown after weeks meant you had to check out all your favourite restaurants again and visit the ones that popped up after you left for college. The result: You swallowed down entirely too much soju, Heeseung and Jake had to physically carry you home, your head is killing you right now, and your embarrassment is at its peak.

When you woke up in the early afternoon to texts from your family members detailing their various absences, you reluctantly made your way out of your bedroom and to the Sims’ place. 

Which brings you here, perched on a chair at the Sims’ dining table, fiddling with your red string of fate, while the object of your thoughts sits right next to you.

“Yeah, a little,” you murmur in response to his question.

“Good.” Jake stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his midriff. You swallow. “Your alcohol tolerance is still the same.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” you counter. “You didn’t drink more than one bottle of soju.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were counting?”

You huff, ignoring the warmth that spreads to your cheeks. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m just joking,” he says, bringing his hands back down. “I was kinda surprised Heeseung has a girlfriend now.”

You hum, taking another sip of your drink. Your head still pounds, but the caffeine is kicking in and making you more lively. It is strange, though, seeing your childhood friend settle down. Judging by the way he talks about her, he’s completely smitten. She’s my soulmate, he had said, and I don’t even believe in my thread.

The memory makes hurt bubble up inside your throat, so you chug the remaining liquid in the mug.

“It’s nice, though,” Jake continues, something… wistful crossing his face. “I wish I had someone like that.”

You look away, staring down at the ring of coffee left on the wooden table from your mug. “Yeah, I guess… Aren’t you dating Chaerin, though?”

You bite the bullet—what’s the point, anyway? There’s no use in dragging it out. Not when he clearly doesn’t know that his soulmate is sitting right next to him. You can deal with the hurt that comes with rejection later.

Jake stills. You glance at him—he tilts his head confusedly. “Chaerin? No… What makes you think that?”

“Everyone said you guys were dating,” you say with a small, uncertain shrug. 

“I mean…” He blinks. “We hooked up once, but that’s really it.”

It’s your turn to blink now, bemused. “Huh?”

“Yeah, we were drunk and it just sorta happened? I dunno,” he says sheepishly. “We didn’t remember any of it later, so we just agreed to remain friends. Plus, her soulmate is Sunghoon.”

“Wait, what?” Your teeth worry your bottom lip. Your mind is swirling with questions—was it possible that you had misread Jake Sim all this time?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s no big deal.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things,” you apologise quietly. Despite all this, his words make a swell of optimism rise in your chest.

He shrugs. “I, uh, wouldn’t blame you. We didn’t talk much after… after everything.”

“Yeah.” Your admission is soft, regret burning a hole in your tongue.

“So, um…” Jake trails off, looking unsure of himself. That’s a first, you realise with a start. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in the worst times. “Do you still feel the same as you did a year ago?”

You suck in a breath. “Why—why would you ask me something like that?”

“I—just curious.”

His eyes land on yours, beseeching and glorious. Even when he’s just woken up, he looks like he’s been dipped in the sun’s golden rays. Your heart hammers inside your chest.

“Wait, can I ask you something else? Why… did you reject me that night?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re transported back to that fateful evening in July.

You stuttered the words out, and explained that you were in love with him, that you were pretty sure he was your soulmate, regardless of who your string was actually connected to. With every new sentence you tacked on, the emotion on Jake’s face vanished. Towards the end, you felt your face crumble.

He left you alone on the pavement, broken-hearted and lovesick.

Jake clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so harsh on you that day.”

“I don’t care about that, Jake,” you say simply. “I just want to know why.”

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t believe in the soulmate bullshit, but I know you do. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I—” He licks his lips before continuing— “The truth is, Y/N, I really, really like you… But I didn’t want to hold you back from finding your true soulmate—whoever was on the other side of your string—’cause I know they’re gonna be the one for you.”

If you weren’t sitting already, you’re sure Jake’s confession would have swept you off your feet and you would be a bumbling mess on his dining room floor. Seeing the forlorn look on his face, you nearly crumble. How stupid your soulmate is. How kind and caring and selfless. 

“So I rejected you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “It’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

You finally find your voice. “Jake…”

He laughs somberly. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I could never think that,” you say firmly. Your hand finds his on the tabletop, and he laces your fingers together, staring at your connected palms with awe.

“I do think you’re a little bit dumb, because I’ve liked you too since, like, forever—”

“Define forever,” he interrupts, not unkindly.

“Well—maybe since the time you surprised me with all the physical copies of that book series I wanted for my fifteenth birthday?”

“Then,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I’ve loved you since before forever.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth. You feel a tug on your little finger as Jake moves his hand away from yours and cups your cheek with it instead. “I’ve also wanted to kiss you since before forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, drawing closer to you.

You lean forward and capture his lips with yours, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He parts his mouth with a sigh, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. His other free hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck; you wind your arms around his neck. The position is a bit cumbersome—the edge of the chair digs into your thigh, and he nearly knocks his elbow on the back of his chair—but his touch is searing hot, the welcome kind, the kind that makes you crave more and more and more.

“You promise you won’t do it again?” you ask later, out of breath and flushed.

“I promise,” he says, and he links his pinkie finger with yours to seal the deal.

The thread tied around it glows golden.

#5. he doesn’t even believe in soulmates (but he’ll try)

“You can’t see it?”

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Jake says patiently, “but I can’t.”

“How?” You look at him dubiously. “It’s literally a glowing golden thread connecting you and me.”

“I don’t need a thread to connect us,” your boyfriend quips. “I can think of better uses for a rope.”

You make a sound of disgust. “We’re at the library.”

Jake Sim grins at you, all bright and shining and vivid. “So?”

Taehyun lets out a pointed cough, typing on his laptop. “There are other people here,” he says, motioning to Gaeul, Chaerin and Sunghoon. All three of them are very obviously avoiding your gaze. Even the tips of Taehyun’s ears are pink. You stifle a giggle.

“Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks up your hand again, thumb brushing against the knuckle of your little finger, right above the knot where the golden string is tied. He whispers to you, next, “I just don’t believe in it.”

“I know,” you say. “But you’re missing out on a lot.”

Jake hums. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in you.”

You roll your eyes, ready to chew him out for being a sappy romantic again, when his next words make your heart stutter.

“I think that’s good enough for me.”

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 8 - Jason Fucking Todd

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Well, look on the bright side of things. You’re not crying right now. That’s nice. You’re not an intern anymore. That’s nice. You struggle to think of anything else. Oh yeah, you’re rich! That’s also nice. You’re not dead. Nice.

This is kind of pathetic. You just feel bummed after having to break up with George a second time. And getting smacked right in the face by him. Which you know, anybody would be, you think. You don’t think a single soul has ever known the George Lancaster Break-Up Special more than once. And you didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that asshole more than once.

You couldn’t fake a brave face anymore, you just didn’t have the energy for it.

…And let’s not forget almost dying via Joker goon. Not even the man himself, just a random lackey. You think of how he literally disappeared in front of your eyes, and decide you are going to stop thinking. It’s doing you no good anyway.

Instead, you just start walking. Letting your feet and your intimate knowledge of Gotham’s streets, even in this area you don’t often frequent, guide you. You find yourself at the train station. With little consideration, you buy a ticket to the southern part of the city. The bad side of town, the docks, where your apartment used to be.

You feel like a little rat scurrying back into the sewers as you hop on the subway, tucking yourself in between people who don’t recognise you, probably because of your general dishevelment.

Shoulders knocking against strangers, you feel the most at home since this whole disaster started. You stare across the train car, watching a baby babble to its mother. It catches your eye, gives you a big toothless smile, and some snot dribbles into it’s mouth. The mother notices and cleans the baby up with a tissue. When she catches you staring, you give a very awkward but friendly smile, and she smiles back.

A tiny weight lifts off your shoulders. Surrounded by the chaos of Gotham, as the subway exits the tunnels and heads up onto the sky rails, you find yourself warm by the rays of sun through the clouds. The view is beautiful, as it always is. Usually, you’d be looking at your phone, too busy to enjoy the sights. But it really is beautiful.

It’s only when you hear the announcer calling out that you realise you did this for a reason, and dart out of your seat and through the narrowly closing doors. The metal closes behind you with a small hiss. The Docks station, for most people, would be one of the better Gotham train stations. Newly built, and with all the tourist money it was clean. Well, clean as it could get. You’d read some article about the bacteria the rats were carrying being not found anywhere else on earth, and you’d decided to stop reading articles.

Anyway, for you, even the shining marble of the station was a sad sight. Because you only ever came here on your very worst days.

This seemed like one of them.

The familiar streets flit past you, barely something you’re even cognisant of. This part of the city was mostly new, the concrete fresh under your feet instead of littered with potholes. Still, it wasn’t at the centre of the blast radius, so it hadn’t been totally demolished.

No, that was just up ahead. And like everything else in this weird new world, you immediately noticed something different. Where your family had died was… still there, for some reason.

With confusion, exhaustion, and no small bit of despair, you stop in the middle of the pathway outside the remnants of what used to be an old diner and was now just a pile of rocks. Some very charred rocks. Looking at the wreckage, you raise your brows. Its crumbling form is still under construction after all these years. The yellow caution tape is only a deterrence to you because you don’t want to end up on the gossip reels for a second time today. Looking around, you find yourself further confused. Lots of other parts of the pier had been redeveloped, but this piece of the puzzle still lay bare.

It didn’t, in your home, your world. It had been replaced with high-rise apartments, and since they were so close to the water, so pretty and new, you had no hope of affording them. It probably wouldn’t be very good for your mental health even if you could. Still, you’d taken many walks past the street. Enjoyed the little bit of dirty white concrete that had survived. You and your siblings had signed your names into it, and you’d stroked the sidewalk like the weirdo you were many times.

Like you did today. And today, for some reason, the rest of it was here. Untouched. A remnant of the disaster. As you run your thumb along the sharp edge of Julie’s J, you find yourself once again lost in your memories. They were like honey traps to you these days.

The mum-and-pops diner had been run by your uncle. It’d been in the family for three generations, and he was incorrigibly proud of it. You’d all had your birthday parties there, because it was free and you were poor. It wasn’t like your uncle would let you pay for the food anyway, it was just one of the few times Mum could stand the generosity. She didn’t like it when you had disappointing birthdays, and no matter how much you tried to fake your happiness, she could always see to your core. Eventually, you and your siblings all gave up on trying.

You were late. You were often late, but this time it was… it was the difference between life and death. If you’d been a few blocks further, a little bit earlier, you’d probably be dead too. Or at least have some serious hearing loss instead of just suffering mild tinnitus.

You had felt more than seen the destruction. The earth had rumbled, and a deafening roar had swept through the streets. You remember falling to your knees, the worry about being late morphing to worry for your best clothes to a true terror when you realised where the blast had come from.

When you realised your family was in the epicentre.

You sometimes wish you were on time that day. That you’d gotten to see them all, even if you went with them. It didn’t sound so bad, really. At least you wouldn’t be alone. Hmm, you should probably stop thinking like that. Or maybe go to a therapist about it.

Not that you could afford it. Oh, right. Rich now. That was really taking some getting used to.

You wonder if people who won the lottery felt the same way. Probably not, because the rest of the world reflected the changes the person felt. They’d have to go pick up the check, go to the bank, and if they let their family and friends know, deal with the consequences of that.

You’d just woken up rich. No time to adjust, your new life was here and it was demanding your attention very loudly. And soup-ly, unfortunately. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the rubble, you look towards your left, where you know the Memorial awaits you. It’s in the centre of the new shopping district, built on top of the bombed parts of Gotham. It sits right next to the water, the cold breeze a comfort that you’d turned to on more than one occasion.

You’d feel bad if you didn’t change your clothes. You told Grayson you would, and you already felt bad enough about... everything to do with him. You suppose he was your brother. Your ex-brother. Ex-step-brother. The ex-step-brother of a woman who you weren’t.

Really, he was just a stranger. It seemed he didn’t feel that way, though.

You start the walk towards the shopping district, and into the first clothes store you see. The prices on the tags would usually make you flinch, but well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing seems to matter. Your survival is now guaranteed, might as well wear some clothes that feel nice on your skin.

You walk out of that store looking like you just robbed it. Even the clerk had given you a weird look but accepted the black card tucked in your phone without much complaint. It’s an improvement if a small one.

Once you’re done, like a moth to a flame, you drift towards the Memorial centre. You’re following all the steps you used to in the past, but somehow, it all feels a bit alien. The world looks a little different, a little uncomfortable. Your shoes are worn in, and yet they still feel too tight.

Uncanny valley. You feel unwelcomed here, unwanted. Like the very earth can tell that there’s something wrong in this scene, some intruder. You ignore the feeling as best you can.

The Memorial is just as unfamiliar as the diner was, maybe even more. You know that your mother was a Wayne before she died. You know that. But still seeing your family’s framed photos, right alongside Jason's is so shocking you nearly jump. It takes a moment of wide-eyed staring before you can manage to get past that. When you do, for some reason you still go back to your old habits. You walk by them, the bouquets and to where their names used to be in thin letters.

You count with your fingers, finding the fifty-second line.

A man’s name replaces the spot where your mother’s is. The little grooves the oil in your fingers had left behind were gone, and instead was sharp stone like when the monument was first erected. It cuts at your fingers. It no longer welcomes your touch.

James Whitaker. That’s the name of the man who took their spot.

You can already feel a rising obsession with the random dead man. If you were going to psycho-analyse yourself, you’d recognise that you didn’t feel that the images of the Waynes you’d created were no longer real, no longer safe to your escapist mindset. You’d realise, that this was all pretty unhealthy, and you really, really needed therapy.

Instead, you give the guy your condolences and start reading the other plinths. They seem largely the same. It’s not like you hadn’t read all of these towers of stone at one point or another, your eyes glazing over the many, many names. So much devastation, all in one moment.

And still, this was not even a tenth of all the lives the Joker had taken. You kinda wanna go take a kick at one of the Bat signals littered around the city. Maybe that’d make you less… broiling with incompetent rage.

Again, maybe you should just go to therapy. You should call Jeanine about that or something.

Eventually, you circle back to your family and Jason’s shrines. You know, back then you’d been jealous that Jason Todd had been so well mourned. You’d wished your family had gotten the same treatment.

Now, you… felt jealous again. Possessive, over their memory, their image. You didn’t really like that random strangers that never knew them… knew them. That Sam always got As in English and Art class but would sometimes skip math and would hide in the bathrooms to do so. That Chasey had struggled with going to school because of her anxiety but kept going because she had a friend going through the exact same thing. That Julie was the ace of her school’s soccer team, and that she’d almost gotten them to nationals even in the presence of all the super-rich schools in Gotham. That your Mum was a great cook but genuinely hated doing it, but for some reason, baking was her favourite thing even as she had never made a proper macaron.

They didn’t know them. They knew their faces and a facsimile of them, but they didn’t know them. It reminded you of the people at the orphanage. Nice, but not kind. They’d had their own lives, they didn’t want some bratty, demented teenager who was going down and planning on taking everyone with her.

You really couldn’t be happy, could you? Maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. What you want now. What you’d wanted for a while, actually.

Ugh. You close your eyes and let out a deep, soul-shaking sigh. It takes a moment for you to shore up the willpower to open them again. Come on, flower shop, finish your weird little ritual then you can go home and hide for the next millenia.

The walk there is the same as always, if a little more morose. It’s in a good spot, near the church just a block away and the memorial on its other side, as well as less sombre atmospheres down near the pier. Well, as little sombre as Gotham can manage.

You feel like you blink and you’re there. Too quickly, you find a rainbow of blooms in front of you, the scent of the blossoms washing over you. When you walk into the flower shop, the bell at the door rings the same as it always does. On autopilot, you walk over to the small, cheaper buds. Your hand clenches around the crinkly wrapping paper, a bundle of posies in your hand. You go to the counter with your prize in hand.

Larissa, the counter worker, smiles at you. Your breath hitches. It’s a working smile, not one of the real, toothy ones she used to give you.

“Oh wow, I thought all the posies had sold out. Lucky you!”

You think of something to say, but the moment passes and you don’t. She rings you up, tells you the price, and when you pay, asks sweetly if you want a receipt.

She doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t acknowledge how you come here every week and buy this same handful of flowers. She doesn’t ask about your job or the weather. She doesn’t cheerfully tell you about how her apprenticeship is going, or about the next sweet thing her partner has done. No, she just stares at you, growing more uncomfortable the longer it takes for you to answer.

She doesn’t even seem to recognise this other version of you. It feels like another string that tied you down to the earth has been snipped. You have an image in your head of a child losing a balloon, desperately grasping at the air. You’re going to float up into the atmosphere, and then you’re going to pop.

You can see the foil glinting in the sun’s light, so, so clearly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Yes, a receipt, please.”

Taking it blindly, you barely flutter your eyes open as you walk out of the shop. She didn’t know you, didn’t remember you. That doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You hadn’t really known her. It doesn’t matter. There’s no real difference, it doesn’t matter.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it never really mattered. You keep telling yourself this as you walk back over to the memorial. As you lay your flowers down with the others, the little posies are dwarfed by the other donations. It didn’t matter. You didn’t know her. None of this matters. Their flowers don’t matter.

You don’t matter. You hit that errant thought with a mental fly swatter.

Exhausted, you sit down next to the monument. You used to be able to lay your head on the stone, able to feel your family in the warmth it had absorbed in the sun. Now you just sort of, awkwardly reached out to the small bit of uncovered plinth at the side. You have to stick your hand through a wreath to do so.

It’s not warm. You wonder if your family are sad. And then you wonder if you’re an idiot for attributing feelings to a literal rock.

After a while, you get up. Cross your arms. You stare at your family's portraits, eyes moving over their smiles. One by one. You recognise some of the photographs, those are your favourites. A smile cracks across your face when you see the picture of when Chasey lost her two front teeth. She still grins cheekily at the camera, uncaring for any changes to her appearance, as all kids shouldn’t.

Your shoulders fall just the slightest bit when you see the picture of Jason Todd. It’s one of his older pictures. Probably seventeen or something. He’d always been a lovely boy when he was younger. And he still was up till he died but you’d always thought you’d seen something start to change in him. That sparkle of innocence, dulled, just the slightest.

And then he’d died. And you’d wondered if maybe he’d felt it was coming.

You certainly hadn’t. It had been like a hurricane tearing through your life. You’d ended up on the other side completely abandoned, the only friend who’d bothered to keep seeing you being one who’d learnt to dodge train ticket costs like a damn ninja. And you’d had to decide whether you could keep doing this, whether you even wanted to.

You were an obsessive creature by nurture. It had been all you could do to hang onto the Waynes, pretend they would love and care for you even if they’d have never even noticed you in real life. You weren’t sure that was strength or simple human survival. Dying was scary. Of course, you were scared of dying.

Your whole family had died. So, you told yourself, that Jason Fucking Todd would be sad if you killed yourself, and somehow, you had made it all these years.

And now here you were, and the Waynes did notice you in real life. You were important to them. You didn’t want to be, but you were. And again, you have to ask yourself, what would Jason Todd ask of you? What would he want you to do now, in this impossible situation you’ve found yourself in?

You stare at the picture. Stare at the way the sun hits his dark hair and blue eyes. Stare very, very hard. Like he might crawl out and give you a detailed list of what to do. You’d really like a detailed list. Or any guidance at all. Maybe you could go hit up a seance or something.

Your head falls forward into your sun-warmed palms. This is so stupid. No answers are going to fall from the sky, you need to find them yourself. And you’re not going to find them here.

Someone walks up beside you to the old memorial, and you quickly tuck yourself back into an acceptable image. Fold in all the rough edges you can. A tall and well-built man, with a face mask, sunglasses and a trucker hat, he looks like he could be a celebrity or something. Someone important, much more than you.

And you weren’t, not technically, at least. The universe had done the equivalent of a shelving error, and now here you goddamn were.

He does an odd pose next to you, something military-esque, where he clasps his hands together and bows his head. With a quick flick of your eyes you confirm, yes, his feet are equal with his shoulders. It’s obvious that he’s paying his respects so you do your best not to judge him too hard.

And then he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, startled and confused.

“For your loss,” the deep voice finishes, jerking his head toward the pictures in front of the two of you.

“Wha- oh uh, um,” you blink and then realise that this person has recognised you, which would make sense since you are literally in one of the photos in front of you, and manage to pull your fading conscious mind back together for a moment more.

“Thank you, uh-” you stare at him a moment longer, “You too?”

Almost worse than that time you told the barista who gave you your coffee you hoped she enjoyed hers too, but not quite. Well, you know, he’d probably lost someone here too. You don’t know why he’d be here otherwise unless he wanted an autograph or something. The thought almost makes you laugh.

He snorts at your words. You don’t know what to make of that.

He looks back down at the pictures and flowers. You think he does, at least, from the slight shifting of his head. He’s kind of mysterious. Pair that with the deep voice, the muscular and tall physique, and you’re an odd mix of attracted and socially anxious. Not that you’re not always socially anxious, but this guy feels… strong. Dumb again, you can see his biceps from here but…

You just can’t quite shake it off. Strong. Strong.

“They didn’t deserve it, none of them did,” he speaks again, and you wonder what the fuck he’s going on about at all.

You admit, you sound a little bitter when you mutter, “Well, that’s obvious.”

He lets out a bark of laughter, and you see his eyes flash to you from under his sunglasses. A shade of blue. There’s another odd pause, and then he turns to you. You don’t know why he’s looking at you. He crosses his arms, and seems to size you up.

“What are you doing here?” he asks you like he knows you.

Your brow furrows. Okay, kind of losing any hotness points here. Bothering someone who was grieving could’ve been seen as rude from the very start, but you’d just thought he was weird. Now, you thought he was weird and rude.

“…Paying my respects. Obviously,” you gesture downwards, “My mother, my siblings, and…”

Well, how would you describe the relationship between you and Jason Todd now? He was still just a stranger to you and-

“With who, that guy?”

Now, it isn’t often that you’re stunned into silence, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to do anything but stare and gape. Frankly, you’re astonished! You’ve never met anyone who spoke so rudely of the dead, and well, he couldn’t have picked a worse person to do it in front of.

“Excuse me?” your voice can’t seem to convey even half of your offence, even as you sound like you’re about ready to bite a second person for today. The man pauses like you’ve surprised him, which- what the fuck is going on? Why do you feel like an alien crash-landed on Earth these days?

“No, I just meant-” he huffs, shakes his head, and continues, his voice now offended too, “What the fuck am I saying? Yes, I did mean that. That little twerp was a naive idiot who was manipulated by the people he believed in most.”

You stare, absolutely speechless, as the stranger goes on a damn-fucking-near crazed rant about one of the people most important to you. Never met? Sure. Dead as hell? Absolutely. But still, he was one of your lifelines. Your candlelight in the dark, guiding your way even when you felt completely lost. And now he’s calling him a naive idiot? You can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

“He changed nothing, made no difference in the end-”

“Nothing?!” you practically shriek, finally able to find your voice just to use it to shout, “He changed… so much! He donated millions of dollars, did heaps of charity work, was practically a treasure to our city… He made multiple homeless shelters, an orphanage, helped rehabilitate criminals and countless other things.”

Your fists are clenched tight enough that they shake. You hide them behind your back, but you still feel like he can probably see them. Your emotions are simmering too close to the surface, bubbling over and onto the floor. About to burn his sneakers to ash.

“You seem like you care a lot,” he says, sounding reserved.

“Of course, I care.”

“…It’s just, you didn’t seem the type, on the TV,” he keeps talking, poking at you for some god-awful reason, and you bark out a harsh laugh.

“Maybe people need to stop making so many fucking assumptions, then? It certainly hasn’t gotten you anywhere,” you throw your hands up, damn sick of all the constant fucking surveillance you’re under. You can see why this version of you lost her mind. You’re near about to as well.

He stares at you for a moment longer, and you start feeling too uncomfortable. It’s a stupid and useless protectiveness that has you staying. Like he’ll somehow try and harm the shrine to your people. It’s happened before, Joker fanboys defacing it and such. This guy could be one of those bastards.

And yet… somehow you feel…

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally says.

“Good, you do that.”

“But in the end, nothing’s really changed. Joker’s still out and about, as you well know.”

You physically flinch like you’ve been slapped. For a good minute there, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You raise one shaking fist, and lift one trembling finger, pointing. The man looks in the direction you’ve pointed, and when he doesn’t see anything, turns back to you. His sunglasses reflect the grey afternoon sun.

“Go,” you order, voice shaking just like the rest of you.

He just keeps staring at you. You wish he’d take off those dumb fucking glasses, so you could see this asshole’s face. Etch it into your mind. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take any action. He simply waits for you to… Well, you don’t know what you’ll do. You haven’t known what you’d do since you left Dick behind two hours ago.

“You need to go,” you say again, and again, he doesn’t fucking move, “You… there’s… you have no right.”

You can hear the buzz of the city around you, the wind rushing by. His clothes rustle in the wind. Your voice sounds too loud in your ears, but he won’t just… he won’t leave. You don’t want this stranger here, watching you. Judging you. It’s all…

“Jason didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, and you think to yourself, desperately, ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

There’s a slight shift in the stranger’s posture. His shoulders tensed.

You think you’ve offended him.

“The Joker… That’s nobody's fault but the government for not just sucking it up and giving him the death penalty, or Batman’s for not doing it himself a long time ago. They’re all fucking useless, but they’re the ones who are supposed to be dealing with this!” you continue, your words growing more heated. It’s only the already looming threat of an assault case that keeps you from shoving the guy. Not like you’d be able to move him an inch, of course, he was huge.

You’re sure it would feel good, though.

“It was never some random teenager's responsibility, and it wasn't mine either,” you say, but find yourself pausing for a moment when you hear the end of your sentence. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious anyway.

You’d tied yourself and Jason up together in your head. To you, you were both two sides of the same coin. One foot in the grave. You’ve got one foot in the grave…

“Jason Todd was a good person, and he made the world a better place.”

You look down at the portrait of the boy, his toothy smile twisting at your heart. None of this was fair. None of this had ever been fair. Why was this guy acting like anybody here had ever been able to do anything about it? Like Jason should’ve been smarter, and avoided a fucking bomb blast?

It was stupid. This was stupid, and you were over it. You were tired.

“And I miss him.”

It’s quiet after you say that.

“I don’t know how you can think it’s fair to act like his death was pointless when… of course it was, all of this was pointless,” you say, throwing your hands wide and gesturing to the entire memorial. “This was a tragedy, but Jason was a victim. And I’m sick of people like you who think they can decide whether someone else’s life was lived right. It’s not your damn right.”

“Now… fuck off!” you announce, and to your shock, he does. He fucks right off. The man gives you one last lingering look, and then turns and leaves without another word. Not like you needed them.

You huff out a shocked breath, and then turn back to the memorial.

The framed faces of your loved ones stare back at you, and for all you know it’s stupid, you can’t help but feel embarrassed for the display. You know your mother would’ve scolded you for your language, at least.

“Sorry,” you say, and you’re unfortunately reminded of that irritating man again. Likely that won’t be the first time he pops up again in your head. He seemed well, insane. Which wasn’t that odd in Gotham but… god, you just couldn’t seem to let it go.

It pissed you off to high heaven. His rudeness was something you’d usually be able to shrug off, especially from some random stranger, but, but, but-! Argh, damn it all. And it wasn’t like that was the first time you had had that sort of conversation, but it was certainly the first time someone had been so bold as to bring it up in front of your dead mother’s smiling face.

Earlier today had snuffed out the fire in you, but that encounter had been the spark to reignite it. More than that, actually. It had made you so damn pissed, made your blood boil in a way you just couldn’t ignore, to the point that you wanted to prove him wrong.

Jason Todd had mattered and had made a difference and change in Gotham. He had made a change in you. You put your hands on your hips, stare down at the flowers, and make a decision.

You’re going to fix your goddamn life. For Jason Fucking Todd.

Your body feels like shit, your brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, and yet this is the greatest opportunity you’ve ever been given. You have a chance to save yourself, and save your friends, and fix all the tiny little problems in Gotham that you’ve suffered through since childhood. Surely just throwing enough money at all your problems would fix some of them.

You were rich. If you couldn’t fix your life with millions of dollars available, then you had no chance.

And yeah, you don’t know what you’re doing. You know you can’t really change what happened. Back then or even just a few days ago. But you hate that. You hate it so much. You hate how weak you are in the face of loss. How both then and now, there’s nothing you can really do. And maybe if just out of spite, towards that asshat, Batman, Joker and everyone else, you want to make a change.

You want to be able to do something about it. You want it, so fucking bad.

First order of business?

…You want more flowers.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[eternalxvenus]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 3 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain.

wc: 1.4k

notes: part three out in less than 24hrs?!? who would've thought

previous chapters: part 1 | part 2

Topper: hey we need to talk, it's about Rafe.

Your heartbeat started to pick up, but you weren't sure why. Topper didn't say it was anything bad, but you knew realistically he wouldn't be texting you unless it was.

You: hey Top, what's going on?

Topper: are you busy? can I swing by?

You: i'm on the mainland right now, can you tell me over text? i'm worried

Topper: yeah... so I don't know if you know but Rafe went to Kelce's party a couple days ago.

You: yeah I know

The sinking feeling in your chest lifts a little. You figured Topper was going to tell you Rafe had been doing coke since he knew Rafe was supposed to quit.

Topper: while he was there he started doing lines off the table. then a little later he started making out with Sofia. i'm not sure how far it went

You stared at the message for what felt like forever. Then a video pops up in the chat, so you click play.

There are some random people doing lines, but then in the back corner, you can see Rafe and his ex-girlfriend Sofia practically trying to eat each other's faces. You couldn't seem to find the energy to be sad about it. You felt almost indifferent but shocked at the same time.

You: thanks for letting me know Top

Topper: of course and just know you don't deserve that.

You click out of your messages and before you can think twice, your phone is ringing, waiting for your call to be picked up.

"Hello?" Rafe's voice came in through the speakers. He sounded tired but not like he had been asleep.

"Rafe. I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth." 

"Okay... what is it?"

There was silence as you took a deep breath. Your voice was smooth and calm as you asked, "Did you cheat on me?"

You heard shuffling on the other end of the line. "What?"

"Did you cheat on me, Rafe?"

"No, I didn't cheat on you. What is going on?" He sounded baffled by your question.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Rafe! I saw the video," You tried to keep your voice low since your parents were probably asleep.

"Baby what are you talking about I'm not lying! I didn't cheat on you. You know what, I'm coming to the mainland. I'll be over there soon." 

He ended the call before you could tell him not to bother. The last thing you wanted to see was his stupid face, knowing his lips were all over Sofia's, and God knows what else they did. 

At the beginning of your relationship you were really insecure because of his history with Sofia but Rafe always assured you that he wasn’t interested in her anymore. You laid in bed staring at the ceiling while the video played over and over in your head. All you could wonder was what made your relationship with Rafe go left so quickly. You felt like crying and punching Rafe all at once. He made you feel so much at one time it could be so overwhelming.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Your phone chimed a while later with a text from Rafe saying 'I'm here. Please let me in so we can talk.’

With a sigh you begrudgingly made your way downstairs and to the front door. When you opened it Rafe was standing there with a tired yet worried look on his face.

"Can I please-"

You put a finger up to your lips. "Shh. You'll wake up my parents." You let him inside and signaled him to follow you into your room. Before you can close the door fully, Rafe starts asking questions. "Why do you think I cheated on you? What video are you talking about?"

"Rafe, I saw a video of you sucking face with Sofia at Kelce's party. Did you fuck her too? Is that why you didn't text me all day?"

Rafe was looking at you like you'd grown two heads. "I am so fucking lost right now. I don't even think I saw Sofia at the party!"

You pull up the video and show it to Rafe. He watches it a few times before sitting on your bed with a sigh, dragging his hands over his face. You watch him with your arms crossed, waiting to see what he'll say. Rafe then pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulling something up.

"Look, this is a picture taken the day of the party." He shows you a random photo that was taken of him and Kelce, also displaying the date on it.

"So what?"

Rafe grabs your phone going back to the video and zooming in on the spot where he is seen kissing Sofia. "My outfit isn't the same in the video. It's an old video from when we were together."

Looking at both the phones you realize that he's right. "Oh... well why would Topper send me this if it's old?" You question out loud

"Wait a minute, Topper sent you this?"

"Yeah he texted me earlier saying we needed to talk but I told him I was on the mainland." You show Rafe the texts from Topper and he's seething.

"I could kill that son of bitch!" He shouted, and you had to cover his mouth, reminding him your parents were asleep. You sat on the bed looking at him, now you were the one who was confused so you decided to flat-out ask him what was going on.

"When you weren't talking to me I had told Kelce and Topper what was going on and he was the one who convinced me you didn't wanna be with me anymore. You were ignoring my calls and everything so he said I should just forget about you and not make things worse." Suddenly Rafe was on his knees with his hands on your hips.

"Baby listen, I know that I can be a major fuck up sometimes and that I don't have the best way of dealing with stress and everything but I would never cheat on you. I'm sorry about y'know, the coke and your birthday and everything else that I've ever done wrong, but I hope you realize that I love you so fucking much. You mean the world to me, and I don't wanna lose you." You stared at him with wide eyes as tears started to fall down his cheeks and brought up your hand to gently wipe them away. "So if you still want space, I'll give it to you. But I know I'm ready to change and make everything up to you."

You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. You definitely weren't expecting him to pour everything out like that. "I love you too, and I don't want you to think I'm ever judging you or being a hardass. I just worry about you. If something ever happened to you..." you sighed, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"I promise not to make you worry." Rafe stood up and kissed you hard while cradling your face. He tried to leave to give you space, but you insisted he'd stay and said you'd head back to the OBX tomorrow. Rafe wanted to talk to Topper in person, which you didn't see going well, but you'd worry about it tomorrow.

You gave him plenty of blankets and pillows since he didn't want to take up so much space in your twin bed and chose to sleep on the floor. Once you'd gotten under your blankets, sleep whisked you away. 

Rafe, on the other hand, could barely get his mind to calm down. He was fucking enraged with Topper for trying to pull some bullshit like that. Rafe should've known he was a snake. He noticed the way Topper's eyes would linger on you or how his hugs went on for a little too long. But Rafe didn't think Topper was stupid enough to try and break you two up.

Now that he had finally cleared everything up with you, he wasn't worried. Rafe was going to take care of Topper as soon as he got back to OBX. He'll make sure to get the point across that nobody fucks with his girl and his relationship.

part 4

likes, comments, and blogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @readingsmuts @1aarii1 @bingbongbum @stargirlsturniololover @babygirl229 @poisonedsultana @rafescamshoe @devils-blackrose @spiderflunk @quicksilversg1rl

[milkoomi]

⋆˚࿔ a new canvas means a new you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a mini series on the art of becoming a better you

inspired by this podcast i watched recently !!

chapter one — THE ART OF LETTING GO

letting go is one of the strongest and bravest things we can do for ourselves. whether it be letting go of toxic relationships, bad habits, or simply just things that no longer serve you, being able to do something like that will help us grow stronger and create a better life for ourselves. i’m sure there’s so many things, or even people, that have been weighing you down or hindering your own progress, so take that first step and let. them. go.

ᥫ᭡. things/people to let go of

bad friends/partners

toxic relationships, whether romantic or platonic, are extremely hard to free yourself from, but you have to put yourself first. you are always your number one priority. if you believe in “treat others how you want to be treated”, then you should believe in making sure others are treating you the way you want to be treated. you can always give and give to the people in your life, but relationships are a two-way street, babe. you can’t give your all when the person or people you’re giving too isn’t giving anything in return! don’t continue to expend any more of your energy on those who won’t even consider trying to give you even an ounce of energy back. it’s not worth it.

when you’re in a toxic relationship, you start to realize how poorly you’re being treated, but because you want to try and fix the relationship or mend it somehow, you stay. and staying is one of the worst things you can do for yourself. while you try and try to fix something that you aren’t even responsible for fixing, you just keep hurting yourself over and over; making yourself even more miserable in the relationship. and you don’t deserve that! you don’t deserve to be treated poorly time and time again, you never deserved that kind of treatment to begin with!

let them go. leave. free yourself from the constant heartbreak, betrayal, and pain. you’ll lose yourself if you stay, and i know that you’re trying to find a better version of yourself, so if you stay you’ll never find that person. you’ll keep getting lost and you’ll keep getting further and further away from your own happiness that you do deserve.

“but how do i leave?”

if we’re talking toxic friends: distance yourself. put distance between you and them until you’re too far away for them to reach. keep conversations short, keep responses to a minimum until you eventually have gone so far that they can’t find you anymore.

or simply: cut them off, immediately. block them on everything. instagram, twitter, tiktok— all social media. block their number. block them out of your life for good. they don’t deserve to see you, to hear from you, to have the chance to try and speak to you; they do not deserve you.

if we’re talking romantic relationships: send them a message. whether it’s a letter you send to their house or even through a text, send them a message. if you do it through text, do not feel any remorse for doing so. there’s this whole idea of “if you break up with them over text, you’re a coward”, and in most cases i can see that to be true, but if you’re in a relationship where your partner does not value you, respect you, or even love you the way you’re meant to be loved then they don’t even deserve the courtesy of an in-person break up.

sometimes we’re put in situations where even sending a message may seem impossible because our partner has taken too much control over us. when this kind of situation happens, we have to put our foot down. if you feel like you have no control, even over yourself, you need to leave. you have to do whatever it takes to leave because you should never, and i mean never, be put in any kind of situation or relationship where you feel like you have no control over yourself. you should never stay in a relationship that makes you feel trapped or that makes you feel scared to leave. you are allowed to leave no matter what anyone says.

additional note: if you are ever put in a situation where you feel unsafe in a relationship, please reach out for help. whether it be your family, a friend, or even an authoritative figure, please reach out for help. you do not deserve to ever feel unsafe by someone who’s supposed to love you.

negative self-talk

most times we are our own worst enemy. there have been so many times where i’ve put myself down with extremely hurtful words— words i would never say to someone i loved. if i wouldn’t say those awful things to someone i cared about, why should i say them to myself? we need to let go of talking down on ourselves. the more we put ourselves down with hurtful words, the more we let our insecurities take over and eventually consume us.

we have to be kind to ourselves. at the end of each day, we only ever have ourselves. you need to always have your own back! talk to yourself like you would to someone you love! talk to yourself with love.

negative self-talk gives more energy to those who try to hurt us. the more energy we put into hurting ourselves, even more energy will put into those who feel like they have power over us. do you really want someone who puts you down feel like they have so much more power over you? no, right? then, please, use that energy to bring more confidence and power into yourself. the only person who should have power over you, is you. use your own power to bring yourself up, not bring yourself down.

“but it seems too hard, where do i start?”

applaud yourself for making achievements no matter how big or small! did you make your bed today? then congratulate yourself! did you get a promotion or raise at your job? then tell yourself how proud you are! it doesn’t matter what the achievement is, if you accomplished it then you deserve more than a pat on the back from yourself. always take pride in your work, always treat small wins as the biggest win of the day, always tell yourself that you are so proud of who you are becoming and what you’ve accomplished.

compliment your appearance, makeup, or outfit! maybe your skin’s been improving, so you should look in the mirror and say “hey, you have really beautiful skin!” or maybe you snapped a pic of the makeup look you just did, then you should say “wow, i’m really talented at doing my makeup! it turned out great!” or maybe you put together an outfit for your day, then you should say, “i made a really great choice in my clothes today! this looks so nice!”

treat yourself with kindness, care, respect, and love. you need to uplift yourself to feel like your best self! literally, just talk to yourself. look in the mirror and have a sweet conversation with yourself and just admire who you see in the reflection.

sometimes we have to fake it til we make it, and honestly? it works! even if you start out and you feel like you’re lying to yourself, still do it. do it until it finally starts to feel real and then keep doing it from that point forward.

feeling embarrassed

we live in a day and age where everything that anyone does is labeled as “cringe”, and it’s exhausting. now, people feel like they can’t be who they are without feeling like they’re being “cringe” or without feeling embarrassed for being themselves or taking part in things they enjoy.

you should never feel embarrassed for being who you want to be or for enjoying things that genuinely make you happy. let go of feeling embarrassed! you are allowed to have fun and be happy being yourself. don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you can’t.

i always like to think, “well, if someone thinks i’m ‘cringe’ then they must not know how to have fun with their own life!” because that’s more than likely the truth! people will feel threatened by those who exude confidence in what they enjoy and who they are and those people will do anything to project their own insecurities onto others. it’s never anything you’re doing that’s wrong. what’s wrong is the fact that some people just can’t stand seeing others thrive. let yourself be someone that those haters can’t stand to see thrive.

i’ve said this before, and i’ll say it again, be unapologetically yourself.

ᥫ᭡. how to let go

letting go just means detaching yourself from the things/people that have held you down. it means to simply stop caring. i know i said “simply”, but of course it isn’t all that simple. this is something you have to work towards!

emotional detachment.

when you bring yourself the inability to attach your emotions to something or someone, you practice emotional detachment.

now, in some cases, emotional detachment may not be a good thing, but when you’re practicing or in the process of letting go it’s best to emotionally detach yourself from that thing or person.

acknowledge and reflect on your emotions! what do these things or people that you want to let go of make you feel? sadness? anger? frustration? grab a journal and write down all that you’re feeling. acknowledging and being aware that there are things/people who are making you feel a negative emotion is a great first step to emotional detachment. you’re being made aware of your feelings, thoughts, and emotions that are a result of the things/people you want to let go of— and that’s a good thing! it allows you to see how you’re still attached and helps you think “well, i don’t want to feel this way anymore” and will begin the next thought process of how you will start letting go of those particular feelings.

set boundaries! now that you’re aware of how these things/people make you feel, you can start setting boundaries for yourself. with people, like i mentioned earlier, you can create distance or even block them. of course, you can always try to set a boundary with that person, but remember: if they cross your boundary and continue to cross it, let them go. you put these boundaries in place and whoever it is that you are setting boundaries with needs to respect them just as they would want you to respect any of theirs. when it comes to setting personal boundaries for things like the ones i mentioned above, it’s the same idea of cutting off what makes you act on that negative self-talk or gives you that feeling of embarrassment. blocking hateful people on social media, unfollowing accounts that don’t make you feel good about yourself, and/or taking a break from social media and making more time for yourself in the real world.

focus on self care & yourself! after you’ve set some boundaries, whether it was with yourself or with others, start putting in more time focused on you. focus on things and people that genuinely make you happy, consume content that makes you feel good whether in general or makes you feel good about yourself, and practice self care! as i said in the beginning, you are always your number one priority. your happiness, your peace, and you overall should always come first in your own life.

ᥫ᭡. final notes

this is “the art of letting go” and art is always something you have to practice so that you get better at it! take your time and be patient with yourself. letting go isn’t an uphill battle, there’s going to a lot of ups and downs and feelings of uncertainty or even anxiety and fear, but i know you can do it! i know there isn’t a single thing that you can’t accomplish for yourself! you are capable of change and you are more than capable of becoming a a better version of yourself for yourself.

with lots of love, juno 🌷

[millieisawriter]

Love spell... or not

javier escuella x reader

summary: javier feels drawn to the newest member of the gang - a fortune teller of mysterious background. he views your tarot cards as sinful, yet can't help his growing attraction. one drunken night solves one problem, and causes another.

part 2 javier's version

part 2 charles' version

wc: 3.8k

tw: religious guilt, mentions of sin, sex under the influence of alcohol, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of religion during sex

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

You were a young girl, traveling with two sturdy horses to pull your wagon, telling fortunes from one town to another. It was a decent life, though far from honest. When the townsfolk eventually discovered you were also a sly con artist, it was your cue to pack up and move on.

It was a good business − very good, in fact. You’d warn a man that his horse might be stolen, and later, when it inevitably went missing, he’d applaud your foresight, blissfully unaware you were the one who took it. Then you’d offer to divine its location for a fee and reunite him with his stolen steed.

Were your skills just a fraud? Of course not, you had great knowledge of techniques for seeing the future, for reading people’s fate. But knowing how to manipulate fate, well, that was just good business.

One night, when you met the first man you didn’t manage to con, you also found a new way to survive.

“Good evening, mister,” you greeted your target, “are you interested in hearing what the spirits have to say to you?”

All Dutch wanted to do was go outside to take a piss, and then come back right to his table, where the rest of the gang waited. They had just arrived in this territory, and what could’ve been better of a reconnaissance than a night out at the saloon? He didn’t expect to meet you at the back of the building, leaning against the wall nonchalantly.

“I’ll pass, miss,” he replied, “goodluck trying to find someone who believes in that sort of thing.”

But you were determined to obtain his pocket watch, that you’ve noticed some time ago, having observed the group. “It works best on people who don’t. Aren’t you even a little bit curious, mister?”

Dutch considered the offer. He was a gambler at heart, after all, and he couldn’t resist a game he didn’t understand. “Alright then, miss. Let’s hear what the spirits have to say.”

You invited him upstairs, to the room you had previously paid for. It was small, lit only by a dim oil lamp, with the perfect ambiance for a tarot reading. You gestured for the man to sit at the rickety table, while you took the chair across from him.

“First of all, I’ll need a personal item of yours.” You explained convincingly, as if the rule was real. “Something close to you, something the spirits can… connect with.”

Dutch smirked, shaking his head as he reached into his coat. He pulled out the watch, exactly what you wanted, passing it to you. “Fine, but if something happens to this watch, you’ll regret it.”

You laughed softly, brushing off his subtle warning. “No need to worry. You and your watch are in good hands, mister.”

He raised an eyebrow as you tucked the watch into the top of your corset. “What are you going to do with it?”

“It has to be close to the heart.” You explained, as if the rule was sacred. “I absorb the energy of it and ask the spirits for guidance.” Your movements were graceful, but not rehearsed, you pulled your deck of tarot cards from your satchel.

It seemed like a strange practice to the man, he was no stranger to deception, he’d spent his life perfecting it, but your conviction was… well, working on him. He wasn’t even sure anymore if you were pulling a con or genuinely communicating with the supernatural.

Meanwhile, the rest of the gang remained by the table. Dutch had been gone longer than expected, which was unlike him. Especially since they didn’t even hear any gunshots, which meant their leader wasn’t starting any trouble. Odd.

“What’s takin’ him so long?” Arthur was the first to ask.

“If he’s not back in five minutes, we’re checking on him.” Javier stated, draining his drink and setting the glass down with a thunk.

Oh, how big their surprise was when Dutch had returned, but wasn’t alone. Right next to him were you. He let you finish your reading, and eventually confronted you. However, instead of punishing you for trying to trick the Dutch van der Linde, he offered you a place in the gang.

“Gentlemen,” Dutch announced, spreading his arms theatrically, “allow me to introduce a new… friend of ours. She’s got a knack for seeing opportunities where others don’t. I think she’ll be… valuable.”

You saw this as both a chance and a challenge. And you liked the idea.

Of course, Dutch wasn’t going to explain the whole situation at the saloon, where everyone could hear. On the next day, back at the camp, that was where he explained the circumstances he ran into you.

Javier had been different to you from the beginning. Everyone else was either interested in your fortune-telling skills, like Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen, or simply didn’t believe it but still respected it (or didn’t care) like Arthur or Sadie. While Javier… he wasn’t the slightest bit friendly to you.

You were mysterious, and strange. It wasn’t that you were a con, that was okay by him, everyone in the gang was a criminal. However your cards, omens, spirit-talking was what clashed with his faith. To him, you were worse than reverend Swanson, because he at least believed in God. You, on the other hand, it seemed you not only rejected God, but even spoke with the Devil.

“Sin.” Javier muttered one night as he sat by the campfire alone.

You weren’t trying to bother anyone, your target for the night was to go sleep in your wagon that was stationed next to the girls’ wagon.

“You always talk to yourself, or am I just lucky to catch you at it again?” You retorted. His fear, or whatever it was he felt, was amusing to you. It wasn’t the first time you heard Javier muttering about you, and this time you were going to confront him.

“Just speaking my mind.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your devout sermon then.” You gave a short chuckle, crossing your arms on your chest.

“You think it’s funny?” He leaned back, his back against the log. “You have no respect for anything sacred. The Devil sent you.”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “Are you afraid of me, Javier?”

“It’s not fear, bruja,” he stood up, “it’s disgust. You’ll go to Hell, don’t you care about that?”

You laughed softly, the sound infuriatingly calm in contrast to Javier’s rising fury. “If I do, I’ll meet you there. You seem awfully concerned about my soul for a man on the run for murder.”

“Stay away from me.” He barked, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitch. “Others may trust you, but I know you’ll doom us all with your brujería.”

You watched him retreat to his tent for the night, not arguing further. There was no point. You had no problem discussing faith with people who could keep a polite conversation, maybe even understand your point of view. But Javier spoke a lot of respect for the sacred, while his hands were stained with blood.

Not everyone in the gang was like him, though. Arthur didn’t believe in God, but at the same time he didn’t completely reject the idea of some higher power looming over this cursed world. So, he didn’t mind it when you offered him a reading the other day. For him it was just something fun, like playing dominoes or poker to pass the time.

“The Lovers.” You put the last card on the table.

Arthur eyes the card, unconvinced. “Now that’s reaching. There ain’t no—”

You interrupted him. “It doesn’t have to be about love. This card can also represent loyalty, who you stand by when the time to make a choice comes, and it will come. Sooner than you might think.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle coming from his mouth. “I can take a look around any nearby town and tell you the same. New century, where there ain’t no place for people like this gang. I don’t need the cards to know that.” It was just common sense for him.

“And yet you stay,” you pointed at the previous card, the Hanging Man, “because you don’t know which way to go. You’re stuck, maybe not even because of your own choices, but because of other people’s decisions. You’re caught in the web of loyalty and circumstance, and it’s hard to see a way out.”

“Only if you were that good at reading Javier, huh?” Arthur teased, redirecting the course of the conversation after you’d hit a sensitive spot. “Don’t think nobody sees how you look at him when you’re not at each other’s throats.”

“It’s called intuition, and I am well aware of what Javier feels.” You weren’t going to deny it. “A part of him is afraid, but I can feel his energy pulling at me. Let me tell you, he’s far from disgusted, what he claims to be.”

Before Arthur could reply to this, a shadow loomed over the table. You collected your cards as your eyes traveled upwards to be met with Javier’s gaze.

The Mexican asked. “You done filling Arthur’s head with your nonsense?”

“I didn’t force him to sit here with me.” You remained calm. “It was an offer, which he accepted.”

“Are you sure you haven’t put a spell on him?” Javier’s tone was sarcastic. “You think it’s all fun and games until you end up cursing someone.”

Arthur stood up with an amused smile. “Don’t worry, Javier, if there’s Hell, I’m already going there.” He said, patting him on the back and walking away.

Javier’s eyes followed Arthur. “Doesn’t change the fact I don’t trust her!”

You knocked on the back of the deck, and shuffled the card. As you did that, your gaze stayed on Javier, knowing he was waiting for your retort. A few seconds later you pulled out the Seven of Swords, flourishing to Javier. “You don’t trust yourself, question your own intentions. When will you stop sabotaging what your heart wants?”

Javier’s expression shifted slightly. It wasn’t anger this time. It was doubt, but he masked it quickly, his gaze darkening once more. “You don’t know me, bruja.”

A faint smile appeared on your lips. “Your heart already tells me everything I need to know.”

He walked away quickly, his boots kicking up dust as he stormed off. You knew what he really felt, and he knew that too even if he hated it. And you knew, one day his feelings would come to the surface. Sooner than he expected.

It happened on the night of your first robbery with the gang. You, Karen, Sean, and Lenny had successfully robbed a stagecoach that was passing nearby. It carried money, a delivery to the nearby bank. You figured it would be easier to attack the stagecoach, than the bank.

Before the law arrived at the scene, the four of you were already back at the camp. The whole gang was in high spirits, Dutch even played music from his gramophone. It was the first time you had seen the gang so free. Bottles of whiskey and moonshine were passed around, and for the first time since joining the gang you truly felt like this is the place you belong in.

Tired from the dancing, you sat down on the log near the campfire and for a moment all you did was sit and watch the others. There was a nearly empty bottle in your hand, and the biggest smile on your face.

Karen was dancing with Sean, who was far too tipsy to keep up with her steps but tried anyway. Molly was being twirled around by Dutch, Arthur agreed to accompany Tilly for one song, and with the corner of your eye you could see Mary-Beth trying to encourage Kieran to dance with her. Even miss Grimshaw allowed herself to relax and swayed to the music with Uncle.

Then there was Javier. Standing a few feet away from the dancing bunch, leaning on Pearson’s wagon with a bottle of moonshine in hand. He happened to shift his gaze to meet yours, as if he sensed you were looking.

“You’re staring, bruja.” Javier called out to you, his voice lacking its usual bite, but still sarcastic. And, for some reason, the man walked over to you.

You finished your bottle before speaking, “Maybe I like what I see.”

He sat down right next to you, and you could swear the magnetic attraction you’d always felt was now impossible to ignore. Maybe alcohol was all the two of you needed. Maybe it was all Javier needed to finally be honest with his feelings.

He asked. “You know, it’s not that I hate you, right?” As if he didn’t think you must have been already aware.

“I know.” You hummed.

“What is it, then?”

You couldn’t give him an answer. His feelings were far away from hatred or disgust or anything of that kind, but you couldn’t be the one to teach him what he felt. It wasn’t your place to make him say things he hid from himself.

“I know it’s not fear,” he added, “I’m not scared of you.”

“Aren’t you scared I’ll curse you?” You chuckled. “You seemed pretty concerned about that.”

“Oh, please,” he snorted, his gaze briefly shifting to the ground as his mind recalled it, “I think you’ve already done that. Long ago, the first time I saw you.”

“Is that so?”

Javier nodded with a barely noticeable smile. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You just… appeared one day in our lives. Different from what we’ve known, but you didn’t even try to fit in. You simply… do. Maybe that’s a little disturbing.”

You laughed. “Ah, I thought the moonshine’s gonna make you take a liking to me.”

“I meant it in a good way,” he sat up straight, “you make me think. It worries me, because no woman did that before.”

The sounds of the gramophone, and the cheerful laughter of the others was so distant out of a sudden. Javier’s confession wasn’t anything you hadn’t at least suspected, but it made your confidence falter.

“And what do you think?” You inquired, subconsciously leaning in closer.

“I think…” Javier hesitated. When his gaze met yours, just inches away, you could really see the true conflict in his eyes. “I think I don’t know what to do about it.”

It was the first time you’d been that close. His eyes told you he was looking for a reason to pull away, even walk away from the fire, and pretend you still hate each other the next morning. But none of that happened.

Instead, your lips connected. You weren’t even sure who initiated it, both of you were equally eager. Except it wasn’t like two lovers finally admitting their feelings, no, it was as if your bickering continued without words. It was the culmination of every sharp word you said to each other, every insult thrown.

The few following seconds were a blur when Javier led you to his tent. Thankfully, no one else noticed that, and you had at least the illusion of privacy. Any words were unnecessary as you undressed each other, movements rushed and messy, as though you didn’t wanna break some kind of spell that had woven itself around the two of you.

Javier’s tent, the inside of it, was exactly how you would have imagined. His guitar resting somewhere in the corner, the tent lit just by an oil lamp that stood on a box next to Javier’s cot. And, what briefly caught your attention, was the picture of the Holy Virgin standing right next to the lamp. She was beautiful, but her eyes pierced right through you, as if she was judging.

And she had every right to judge. Javier, the man who so strictly believed in his catholic God, let himself surrender to the temptation. Maybe it was obvious all along, the Devil had sent you as a way to test Javier’s faith.

Apparently, his faith wasn’t strong enough. As your lips connected again, he pushed you back to lie down. And as he was now completely naked upon you, one thing couldn’t have gone unnoticed. From his neck hung a pendant of the Holy Virgin, now brushing your skin as the man entered you.

Each time he rolled his hips into your core, it felt like a rebellion. A silent type of a protest towards himself, and what he believed in. The pendant swung with every thrust, brushing against your skin, as if marking you with its presence.

“She’s watching,” you whispered, one hand faintly scratching Javier’s back, the other touching the pendant, “judging.” Possibly, for the first time, you felt guilty. But why? You didn’t believe in his religion.

“Mhm, I know.” Javier replied, guiding your hand away from the Holy Virgin.

The man briefly pulled out, and with one movement flipped you over onto your stomach. With no warning, he slid right back into you, his pelvis now meeting with your ass when the tip of his cock reached places it couldn’t in missionary. You arched slightly, like a cat in heat, and the pleasure mixed just perfectly with the pain of his dick hitting your cervix.

“Perdóname.” Javier whispered, but you figured he wasn’t apologizing to you, even if you couldn’t see the way his gaze flickered to the picture next to his cot.

You felt his breath on your neck, warm and uneven, as he leaned closer, his hand gripping your waist tightly, grounding himself in the physical even as his mind battled with the spiritual.

You clawed at the cot beneath you, biting your lip to stifle your own cries as his thrusts became slower but harder. If there was any trace of the Devil lurking within you, it seemed Javier was intent on driving it out, leaving nothing but the rawness of sin and surrender.

Feeling you clench around him, and the way your breath was now coming in short gasps, he knew he wouldn't last much longer himself. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let your deliciously overwhelming orgasm flow through your body, reaching every part of it.

Just as you came down from your high, Javier pulled out with a strained groan, and no sooner you felt his warm seed across your back. Maybe it was the moment his post-nut clarity kicked in, but he wasn’t the most talkative as he cleaned you up.

He let you stay in his tent for the night. Your still tipsy mind figured it was the alcohol mixed with the sex that made him so tired. You were exhausted as well, after all. Except, falling asleep came easy to you, meanwhile Javier laid on his back, awake, for what could’ve been both half an hour or three hours.

He replayed the evening in fragments, and weighed them against the condemnation he felt. One of his hands reached to the pendant on his neck, it was around some morning hour. He hoped maybe a prayer would solve his problem. Maybe a prayer would be enough to feel peace.

“Madre Santísima, perdoname por lo que he hecho.” Javier spoke, his eyes closed as he tried to focus on how much he should regret what he had done.

Why did it have to be you? You weren’t the woman for him. A woman that believes in nothing would have been better than the woman who practices devilry. A woman who believes in nothing might have been easier to sway, to mold, to save. But you? There was no way you’d leave your magic that Javier was sure Satan had put into your hands.

Javier continued his prayer. “Perdóname por mis pecados, por dejarme llevar por la tentación de una diabla.” Maybe, after all, he was scared.

You blinked your eyes open. Though quiet, his whisper did manage to wake you up. He had no idea you could hear him, his eyes still closed as his prayer continued.

“No quiero perder mi alma. Ayúdame a resistir—”

You cleared your throat. “Seriously?”

Javier froze, his eyes opening and his gaze met yours. You were upset. There you were, letting yourself think that maybe he could warm up to you. That the night meant something to him.

You sat up. “You kill with no remorse, steal, lie, do God knows what else,” you listed with anger and disbelief, “but this − sleeping with me − is what you need to be forgiven for? This is where you draw the line?”

You huffed, attempting to leave the cot, the blanket slipping down your bare skin. The man’s hypocrisy made you feel filthy. Like sleeping with you was worse than murder to him.

His jaw clenched as he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You don’t understand it.”

Tears burned your eyes as you put your clothes on. “Don’t act like you’re the victim. Don’t act like I dragged you into this. Like you didn’t want this as much as I did.”

Javier didn’t consider himself a victim to your seductive powers. He knew he was guilty, and maybe this made it even worse. “That’s not what I’m saying. I… I wanted you.”

“Then why the prayer?” You asked, crossing your arms on your chest for a slight illusion of comfort. “You either want me, or you think I’m the Devil.”

“It’s just…”

You interrupted him before he conjured the right words. “Do you think what we did was worse than the blood on your hands?” Your voice lowered. “Or is it just easier to feel guilty about because it doesn’t make you face the man you really are?”

That one night, or rather the morning after, proved to you something you pondered since you had met the gang. You’ve never killed, and you wondered how come these men could sleep with so many innocent souls on their conscience. Now you knew. The solution was to find something easier to feel guilty about.

Silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. Javier was looking at you now, but not with anger. He looked at you, knowing how well you had him figured out. He was completely exposed, his wretched soul bare before your eyes.

Javier had no answer for you. He stood up, wanting to say something, but he couldn’t make up anything that didn’t sound like an excuse. For a second he hesitated, wanting to reach out and take your hand in his, but he stopped himself.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You know that, Javier? Stick to praying. Seems to be the only thing you’re good at.”

With that, you stormed outside of his tent. The morning air was refreshing, different from the suffocating air inside the tent, where Javier stayed in stunned silence.

All you wanted was to get as far from him as possible. Finding a quiet spot near the outskirts of camp, you sat down and wrapped your arms around yourself, and that was when you allowed yourself to cry.

[realhotgirlshitah]

Can I request an Ethan x fem Best friend reader where he has like a massive borderline obsessive crush on reader and gets all possessive when she goes on a date and it leads to Dom!Ethan smut??

It can be GF ethan too if you’re into that but if you’re not that’s totally ok(ik some writers dont like to include the canon typical violence for ethan) so either way It will be amazing.

Silent Devotion 🎀

Ethan Landry x female best friend

warnings: nothing too crazy but it’s… filthy! slight degradation and praise, ethan is ofc unhinged as fuck.

FAWK I NEED HIM SO BAD LOOK AT HIM? FUCKING LOOK AT HOW SEXY MY PSYCHO BOYFRIEND IS RAHHHH 🦅

Ethan never really understood why you befriended him.

You, of all people. Gorgeous, popular, confident, and seemingly perfect in every way. It made no sense, not to him, at least. From the first time you spoke to him, something in him shifted. Being Chad’s roommate, he was used to being in the background, overshadowed by the guy everyone wanted to talk to. So, when you tapped him on the shoulder after class one day, he thought he was dreaming.

“Did you understand any of that?” you asked, flashing him that smile he’d been too scared to admit he’d been staring at for weeks.

“I uh—yeah, yeah, I think so,” he stammered, tripping over his own eagerness. “I mean, it’s a bit tough, but I get it,” he corrected himself, trying not to sound like a complete idiot.

You just smiled wider, like you knew exactly what was going on in his head. And that smile? It was enough to send his mind spiraling. He couldn’t stop staring—at your lips, your eyes, the way your laugh sounded like music. You were breathtaking.

“Ethan, right? I see you around with Chad a lot,” you said, tilting your head, clearly amused by his nervous energy.

“Yeah, Chad’s my roommate,” he muttered, wincing internally. He fully expected you to start asking about Chad, like everyone else. Instead, you laughed, brushing off the mention of his roommate like it didn’t matter.

“I don’t know how you live with him. He’s so loud all the time. I’d have already lost my mind. Mindy, though? She’s chill as hell.”

You weren’t interested in Chad. You were talking to him. Ethan felt his heart beat faster. He didn’t even care that he was fumbling for words. You were right there, smiling at him, making him feel seen for once in his life.

“Wanna hang out later?” you asked, leaning in slightly, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I could use a friend in this class who isn’t a total condescending asshole.”

Ethan blinked, certain he’d misheard. “Wait—really?” he stammered, barely able to believe his luck.

From that moment, his world changed. It wasn’t just hanging out anymore. You became everything to him. It started small, just study sessions and casual conversations between classes. But the more time he spent with you, the deeper his feelings grew. Obsessed wasn’t even the right word. You were all he could think about. He’d lie awake at night replaying every moment with you, every laugh, every touch, every time you smiled at him like he mattered.

He needed you.

It became suffocating—the way he craved you. You were all he saw, all he wanted. When you laughed at his jokes, he imagined what it would be like to make you laugh while pressed against his chest. When you clung to his arm during horror movies, he fantasized about what it would be like to have you cling to him in the dark, whimpering in ways that had nothing to do with fear.

You became an obsession, and no matter how much he tried to play it cool, it consumed him. The moments you two shared, the simple times you were alone together, only fueled his desires. He’d find himself sitting next to you, watching a movie or talking about nothing important, but his mind was always on one thing: you.

One particular night, it was movie night with the group—Chad, Mindy, Sam, Tara, and you. Horror movies. You hated them, couldn’t even handle a single jump scare, which was exactly why you were practically glued to Ethan’s side.

As the movie started, you cuddled up to him, your arms wrapped around his, your head resting on his shoulder. His whole body tensed when you pressed closer. You smelled incredible, like vanilla and something sweet, something he couldn’t quite place but made him want to bury his face in your hair and never leave. Every time the movie startled you, you would grip him tighter, little whimpers escaping your lips as you buried your face into his arm.

Ethan could barely focus on the screen. His attention was all on you—on how soft your skin felt, how tiny your shorts were, leaving so much of your smooth, warm thighs exposed. His eyes kept drifting down to your legs, imagining how they would feel wrapped around him. The way your boobs were pushed up in that tiny cami top drove him insane. His heart pounded as he pictured his hands slipping beneath that fabric, making you squirm beneath his touch.

Then, there was the sound of your whimpers—those little noises you made every time the movie made you jump. Each one sent a jolt through him, tightening his grip on the pillow he held. All he could think about was how much he wanted to make you whimper for him, to make you moan his name, to hear those sounds when it was just the two of you, when his hands were on your body, not the blanket draped over you.

He couldn’t focus on the movie at all. His eyes kept wandering to your lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. His mind raced with thoughts of pulling you closer, of leaning down and finally making his move. He wanted to be the one to make you feel good, to be the one you ran to, not just because of some stupid movie, but because you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

Each little touch you gave him, each soft laugh, each teasing comment only pulled him deeper. You were his best friend, but god, all he could think about was what it would be like if you were more. If you belonged to him.

By the end of the night, as you lay practically on top of him, sound asleep after the final movie, Ethan’s mind was a whirlwind. He gently moved a strand of hair from your face, his heart pounding in his chest, barely breathing as he looked down at you. His mind was filled with fantasies of kissing you, touching you, making you his. It was overwhelming. He needed you so badly it hurt.

It’s late afternoon as you and Ethan leave your econ class, falling into step beside each other as usual. The conversation is easy, the kind that flows naturally between best friends. But as Ethan walks next to you, all he can think about is asking you to hang out later. He needs to see you again. He always does.

“So,” Ethan starts, glancing at you with that familiar softness in his eyes, “Wanna come by tonight? We can watch a movie or something. Chad’s out, so it’ll just be us.” His tone is casual, but inside, he’s dying for you to say yes. His dorm is right across from yours, so there’s no reason it shouldn’t happen, right?

But then, you shake your head, lips curving into a little smile that makes his heart sink before you even speak.

“Actually, I can’t tonight,” you say, your voice a little hesitant. “This guy asked me out, so I’m supposed to be going on a date.”

The word “date” hits Ethan like a punch to the gut. His stomach churns, and his vision tunnels for a moment. He forces a smile, though it feels strained. He can’t let you see how much this is affecting him. Not now.

“Oh… cool,” he says, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrays him. He clenches his fist in his pocket, forcing himself to stay calm. “Who’s the guy?” he asks, keeping his tone light, despite the way his insides twist.

You smile, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Oh, you probably don’t know him. His name’s Ryan, he’s in one of my psych classes. He’s pretty cute, tall, plays lacrosse. We’ve chatted a bit.”

Ethan forces a laugh, but his mind is racing. Tall. Cute. Lacrosse? He fights the urge to scoff, his jaw tightening as he glances at you. “Yeah? Sounds like a real charmer,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral. He doesn’t want to scare you off by showing how much the thought of you with someone else makes his skin crawl.

You don’t notice the shift in his tone, too caught up in talking about this guy. “He seems nice enough. It’s just a casual thing, we’ll see how it goes,” you add with a shrug, completely unaware of the way Ethan’s nails are digging into his palm.

He doesn’t say much after that, barely able to focus on the conversation as you both part ways for the evening. The image of you going on a date with someone else consumes him, filling his mind with dark thoughts. Every minute that passes, he’s thinking of you—wondering what you’re doing with this Ryan guy, imagining him touching you, making you laugh, maybe even kissing you. It makes his blood boil. He tries to distract himself, but it’s no use. His mind always comes back to you.

Later that night , his phone buzzes. It’s a text from you.

“Hey, wanna come over? My date bailed, and I’m bored. Let’s watch that movie?”

Ethan’s heart leaps in his chest. He doesn’t even think twice. Within minutes, he’s out the door, practically running across the hall to your dorm. His pulse races, and he’s already imagining the two of you alone together—just like he wanted from the start. He knocks on your door, and when you open it, the sight of you makes his breath catch.

You’re wearing those tiny pajama shorts that drive him insane, the ones that barely cover your thighs, and a little tank top that shows off your curves. His eyes can’t help but linger on the way the fabric clings to your body. You don’t seem bothered by the fact that your date didn’t show up—if anything, you seem relaxed, unbothered.

“Hey,” you say with a smile, hopping up to sit on the kitchen island, your legs swinging playfully. “Come in, movie’s ready. What took you so long?” you tease, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him.

Ethan steps inside, trying to keep his cool, but all he can think about is how perfect you look tonight. He’s wearing his usual loose pajama pants and a fitted shirt that highlights the muscle he’s been working on lately. The silver chain you got him for his birthday hangs around his neck, catching the light. He sees the way your eyes flick over him, how you seem to take in the shape of his body, the way his shirt clings to his broad shoulders. And even though you’re sitting on the counter, he still towers over you as he steps closer.

“So, what happened to Mr. Lacrosse?” he asks, his voice low as he moves in, standing right in front of you now. His proximity is deliberate, the tension thickening with every second that passes.

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “He never showed up. His loss, right?” you say, clearly not too broken up about it.

“Yeah, his loss,” Ethan echoes, but internally, he’s thrilled. He’s glad the guy blew it. More time for him. More time with you.

He leans against the counter, and the conversation flows as it always does—banter, jokes, easy laughs—but tonight, something feels different. The air between you is charged. Every laugh, every teasing comment is laced with an underlying heat that neither of you can ignore.

You shift slightly on the counter, crossing one leg over the other, which only draws Ethan’s attention to your bare legs. His eyes drift down to the hem of your shorts, his pulse quickening as he imagines running his hands over your skin. You catch him staring and smirk, but instead of calling him out, you tease him.

“Something on your mind, Ethan?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you’ve caught him off guard.

He meets your eyes, and for a second, the playful banter fades. His gaze darkens as he steps closer, standing between your legs now, so close that you can feel the heat of his body. The sexual tension is thick, electric, buzzing between the two of you like a live wire. His eyes drop to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, and the air around you seems to shift, the playful teasing giving way to something heavier, something undeniable.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, his voice deeper now, rougher, as he leans in just a fraction closer. He can’t help it—his hands are itching to touch you, to close the distance between you, to finally cross that line that’s been blurring for weeks. You’ve always been the center of his universe, but tonight, standing here with you like this, the desire is nearly unbearable.

You tilt your head, looking up at him with those wide, curious eyes. The way your lips part ever so slightly has his mind racing with fantasies. He wants to kiss you, wants to make you moan, wants to claim you in ways he’s only dared to dream about. You don’t pull away, and that small fact ignites a fire in him that he’s barely keeping under control.

As you lean back slightly, letting your fingers brush against Ethan’s chest in a casual, teasing way, you notice how he tenses under your touch, his jaw tightening. There’s a shift in his demeanor, something primal flickering behind those soft brown eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’re used to him being sweet, dorky, even shy sometimes—but this? This is new. You smirk up at him, fully aware of the effect you’re having on him.

“You sure there’s nothing on your mind?” you ask, voice light but dripping with innuendo. You run your fingers down the chain hanging around his neck, playing with it for a moment, before letting them drift lower, barely grazing his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Ethan’s eyes darken even more, his patience hanging by a thread. You can see the internal battle playing out on his face, the tension building to a breaking point. His gaze drops to your lips again, and this time, he doesn’t pull back.

“Keep pushing, and you’re gonna find out,” he mutters, voice thick with desire, low enough that it sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, like he’s weighing the consequences, but there’s no hesitation anymore—just pure want.

You don’t even have time to respond before he snaps. In a blur of motion, his hands are on you, one sliding around the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist as he pulls you toward him with a sudden, heated intensity. His lips crash into yours, catching you completely off guard, but before you can even process it, a soft, involuntary whimper escapes your throat. The sound flips a switch in Ethan that he didn’t even know existed.

You cling to him, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, the heat between you building faster than you expected. His hands are everywhere—gripping, tugging, pulling you impossibly closer as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second. The kiss is desperate, heated, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever, and now that it’s here, he’s determined to make every second count.

Without breaking the kiss, he picks you up effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he hoists you up, making you gasp in surprise. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively as he carries you toward your bedroom, navigating the space with ease, his lips never leaving yours. The way he holds you—like you weigh nothing—sends a thrill through you, making your pulse race even faster.

Ethan pushes open the door to your room with his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him before gently tossing you onto the bed. You bounce slightly, breathless and wide-eyed as you look up at him. For a second, he just stands there, staring down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. His gaze rakes over your body, drinking you in with a mix of disbelief and hunger, like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

You smirk up at him, teasing even now. “You gonna stand there and stare all night, or…?”

His eyes flash with frustration, a growl rumbling low in his throat as he moves toward you. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, his voice rough and ragged. He climbs onto the bed, caging you in beneath him, his body hovering over yours. His hands trace along your sides, just light enough to make you squirm.

“You always have to be in control, don’t you?” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as his lips graze your neck. “Always teasing, always pushing.”

You shiver under his touch, but before you can respond, his lips are on your neck, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down to your collarbone. His hands grip your waist, his touch firm but teasing, not giving you nearly enough pressure to satisfy the heat building inside you. It’s maddening, and he knows it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Ethan whispers, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your shoulder, sending chills down your spine. “How bad I’ve wanted you…”

His hands slide up to your hips, tugging at the waistband of your tiny shorts just enough to tease you, but not enough to give you what you want. You arch your back slightly, biting your lip as a soft whine escapes you.

“Ethan…” you breathe, the frustration starting to build in your voice as you shift beneath him, trying to get more contact, more anything.

He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Oh, now you’re the one begging?” he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your shorts. “What happened to all that confidence, huh?”

You whimper again, the sound more desperate this time, and it’s all the encouragement he needs. His hands move quickly now, sliding your shorts down with ease, and his eyes darken even further as he takes you in, fully exposed and vulnerable beneath him. The look on his face—hunger, disbelief, pure desire—sends a wave of heat through you, making you squirm beneath him.

Without another word, Ethan moves lower, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself between your legs. He hesitates for only a second, just long enough to shoot you a wicked grin.

Ethan pauses for a moment, his eyes locked on yours as he hovers between your legs. There’s a glint of something darker in his gaze now, his lips parted slightly as he takes in the sight of you laid out before him. The anticipation is palpable, thickening the air around you both. He runs his hands slowly up your thighs, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends sparks shooting through your body, making you tremble beneath him.

His gaze flickers upward to meet yours again, and the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away. He leans in, kissing the inside of your thigh—soft, teasing—his lips barely brushing your skin as he moves closer to your core. You can feel his hot breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot, the heat of his mouth almost unbearable. Your breath hitches, and your hips shift unconsciously, desperate for more.

Ethan grins, clearly enjoying how worked up you are, the control he has over your body now. “You look so fucking good like this,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost reverent. “I’ve thought about this so many times… but this? You’re even better than I imagined.”

His words send a jolt of desire through you, but before you can respond, he lowers himself fully, his mouth finally connecting with your heated skin. The first slow drag of his tongue across your folds sends a shockwave of pleasure through you, making your entire body tense and then melt into the bed beneath you. It’s overwhelming—the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the gentle but deliberate pressure of his tongue moving against you.

You gasp, your hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls as you instinctively push him closer. Ethan groans at the contact, the vibration reverberating through your core and making you cry out. He’s not just doing this for you—he’s savoring every moment of it, completely lost in the taste and feel of you.

Ethan’s movements start slow and measured, each flick of his tongue precise and intentional. He’s exploring, learning what makes you gasp, what makes your legs shake, what has you tugging at his hair in desperation. But as he gains confidence, his pace quickens, his enthusiasm growing with each of your moans, every little sound you make driving him to give you more.

He circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, applying just enough pressure to make you see stars, before he pulls away, only to suck it gently between his lips. The sensation has you bucking your hips against him, the friction almost too much to handle. Ethan tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you steady as he continues to lavish attention on you, his mouth working with an eagerness that’s almost maddening.

“Fuck, Ethan…” you whimper, your voice shaky and breathless, and the sound only seems to spur him on. He groans again, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body, making you squirm beneath him.

He’s relentless now, his tongue moving faster, more confidently, alternating between soft licks and firm pressure, hitting every spot that has you arching off the bed. He’s a fast learner, picking up on every little movement, every gasp, and using it to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Your grip on his hair tightens as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable point, your body trembling with need. “Ethan… I-I’m so close…” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan responds with another low, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through you in a way that has you teetering on the brink. His tongue presses harder against your clit now, swirling in tight, deliberate circles, pushing you closer and closer to release. He slides one hand up your thigh, his fingers ghosting over your entrance, and the added sensation makes your entire body tense in anticipation.

You’re trembling, gasping for breath, your body taut with tension as you cling to the edge, and then Ethan’s fingers slip inside you—slow, deliberate—curling just right. The combination of his tongue and fingers has you coming undone in an instant.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, ripping a loud moan from your throat as your body convulses beneath him. Ethan doesn’t stop—if anything, he works you through your release, his tongue and fingers driving you higher, prolonging the pleasure until it’s almost too much to bear.

By the time the waves of pleasure finally begin to subside, your body is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. Ethan pulls back slowly, his mouth still hovering over your core as he presses one last, soft kiss to your thigh, his eyes dark and filled with something primal as he looks up at you.

The grin on his face is one of pure satisfaction, his lips glistening with your arousal as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dying to do that,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust and pride. “And I’m not even close to being done with you.”

Ethan’s gaze darkens as he drinks in the sight of you, still trembling from your release. There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a tangible heat that pulses between you, and you can feel the energy crackling in the air. He rises to his knees, the dominant edge of his demeanor coming into sharper focus, and you realize that he’s only just getting started.

“Look at you, all flustered and needy,” he says, his voice low and teasing, laced with a dark undertone that sends another thrill down your spine. “You really thought I was done with you?”

Before you can respond, he grips your waist with surprising strength, flipping you onto your stomach with a swift motion. You let out a soft gasp, momentarily caught off guard as he manhandles you into position. Your heart races at the sudden change, your body responding to his dominance in ways that leave you breathless.

“On all fours,” he commands, his tone brokering no argument. You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as you comply, pushing yourself up onto your hands and knees, the position feeling both vulnerable and exhilarating. The power dynamic shifts entirely, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, filled with both hunger and authority.

Ethan positions himself behind you, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body as he leans closer. His breath is warm against your skin, and he takes a moment to savor the sight of you. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, the praise mingling with the edge of something more possessive.

You shiver at his words, heat pooling in your core again as he runs his hands along your back, caressing you in a way that’s both tender and commanding. But then, without warning, he smacks your ass playfully, the sound echoing in the room. The unexpected sting takes you by surprise, and you gasp, your body instinctively reacting to the sharp pleasure mixed with a hint of pain.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice dripping with a mixture of mockery and desire. “To be treated like a little slut? Because that’s what you are—so fucking eager for me to touch you, to make you feel good.”

You can’t help but moan at his words, the degradation sparking something deep within you. You feel both embarrassed and incredibly turned on, your body responding eagerly to his every command.

“Answer me,” he presses, his tone firm, demanding. “Do you want me to take you? To use you like the perfect whore you are?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the heat pooling in your belly intensifying as his words wash over you. The way he talks to you sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, and you can feel your arousal growing, pushing you closer to the edge again.

“Good girl,” he praises, and his voice is laced with satisfaction. He leans down closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You need to remember that you’re mine. I’m going to make you feel so good that you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

With that, he grips your hips tightly, holding you in place as he positions himself behind you, teasingly brushing against you, making you ache for more. “You ready for me?”

“Yes, Ethan, please…” you plead, your voice breathless, longing for him to fill you completely.

He chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying the control he has over you. “Not yet,” he replies, the teasing edge in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He drags his hands over your body, squeezing your ass possessively, almost too roughly, but the pleasure mingles perfectly with the sting, and it makes you crave him even more.

“Look at you, so desperate,” he taunts, pulling back slightly to admire the view. “You love it, don’t you? Being treated like this. You want me to degrade you, to remind you how much you need me.”

“Ethan…” you whimper, unable to hide the need in your voice.

“Shut up and take it,” he snaps, the sudden bite in his tone sending your heart racing. His hands grip your waist tightly, and with a swift thrust, he enters you in one smooth motion. The sensation is electric, and you cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming you.

Ethan’s grip on your hips tightens as he begins to move, his thrusts powerful and deliberate. He’s relentless, using you for his pleasure as you melt beneath him, each movement igniting a fire within you. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he grunts, his voice low and rough with desire. “Just like that. Keep moaning for me, let me hear how much you love it.”

With every thrust, he builds a rhythm, punctuating his movements with the occasional slap to your ass that sends jolts of pleasure through you. You can feel the tension coiling tightly in your belly again, the mix of pain and pleasure pushing you closer to the edge.

“Look at you, taking it so well,” he growls, his voice thick with lust. “I could do this all night. Just you and me, baby,” the whimper you let out is weak, a perfect contrast to the guttural groans he’s letting out as his relentless movements speed up

“You want it harder?” he growls, his voice rough with lust. “You want me to fuck you like you can’t handle it?”

You nod frantically, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he pounds into you, his cock slamming deep inside you with each brutal thrust. The sound of it—the slick, obscene wetness, the slap of his hips against your ass—fills the room, and it’s everything.

“Ethan,” you whimper, the pleasure cresting higher with each thrust, his words fueling the fire within you.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he commands, his voice low and rough.

“I want it so bad… I want you,” you gasp, the need in your voice unmistakable.

“Good girl,” he praises, his thrusts growing faster, more frantic. “Let go for me. Let me see how much you need this.”

With his words pushing you over the edge, your body responds instinctively, the tension unraveling as your orgasm crashes over you again. You cry out his name, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washes through you, completely consumed by the moment.

Ethan doesn’t stop—he keeps thrusting, riding you through your release, his own pleasure building as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “That’s it, just like that,” he growls, the sound of your pleasure driving him closer to his own climax.

Ethan’s grip on your hips tightens as he flips you onto your back, a sudden shift in power that sends a thrill of excitement through you. The look in his eyes is intense, a dark hunger that ignites a fire deep within you. He hovers over you, his body pressing you down into the mattress as he lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you just enough to keep you on edge.

“Look at you,” he growls, his voice low and filled with a possessive edge. “So eager for it, and yet you were supposed to go out with Ryan? Pathetic.” His tone drips with mockery, and you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but there’s something exhilarating about his dominance that makes your pulse race even faster.

You bite your lip, trying to contain the moan threatening to escape as he slowly pushes into you, filling you completely. He’s rougher than before, and it sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is deeper, harder, and more relentless than the last, making you gasp and arch your back in response.

“Did you really think he could ever compare to me?” he taunts, his breath hot against your ear as he begins to pick up speed. “You’re mine now, and I’d get rid of anyone who thinks they can have you. I’d kill for you, you know that? Anyone who comes near you is dead in my eyes.”

His words resonate through you, a mixture of thrill and arousal as he continues to move within you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You can’t help but moan, the sound escaping your lips unbidden as you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation of him inside you. It’s as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to bring out the wildness in you that craves this raw, unfiltered connection.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this since the moment we met,” he confesses, his voice rough and filled with need. “Every laugh you shared, every little tease… I imagined bending you over, taking you like this, showing you just how good it feels to be mine.”

You can barely process his words, lost in the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you. Your body responds to him, to his every thrust, every whisper, and you can feel the heat pooling in your core, ready to explode at any moment.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck as he continues to pound into you, relentless and dominating. “You’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “I want you to know that no one else can make you feel like this. No one can take care of you like I can.”

Ethan’s movements become more frantic, his breath coming in heavy pants as he pushes you closer to the edge. “I’d do anything to keep you. Anyone who gets in my way doesn’t stand a chance. You’re too perfect for them, too good to be with someone who can’t appreciate you like I do.”

You feel a rush of excitement at his words, the combination of dominance and desire swirling within you, making your body ache for more. You reach up, tugging on that silver chain right above your face before tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him down to capture his lips with yours, a desperate need driving the kiss.

Ethan deepens the kiss, pouring all of his pent-up longing into it, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of his desire almost overwhelming. He pulls back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “You understand what I want, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice a low growl.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to breathe, your body aching for him, desperate for the release he’s promising.

“Good,” he replies, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he resumes his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Then let’s see just how much you can take.”

With that, he plunges into you harder, faster, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you closer to that precipice. You can feel yourself spiraling out of control, every part of you aching for that release he’s teasing you with.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, his eyes dark and filled with a possessive fire as he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Tell me you want this, that you want me.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate rush. “I want you, Ethan! I want this!”

His eyes flash with triumph at your confession, and he thrusts into you with renewed fervor, his body pushing you to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel the coil inside you tightening, and with every thrust, you’re closer to unraveling, ready to fall apart in his arms.

“Then come for me,” he commands, his voice low and seductive, and you know you can’t hold back any longer. With one final thrust, you explode around him, your body shaking as pleasure washes over you, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath him.

Ethan follows closely behind, his own release spilling into you as he groans your name, his body collapsing against yours as both of you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

As the last remnants of your orgasm fade, he pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and possessiveness. “You’re incredible,” he breathes, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek. “I’d do anything to keep you like this—forever.”

You can’t help but smile at his words, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you as you realize that you’re not just a fleeting fantasy for him; you’re something real, something he wants to hold onto.

Ethan however, is still reeling at the fact he has his dream girl in his arms, completely unoblivious to how serious he was while fucking her dumb. The feeling was so incredible, he almost felt guilty about what he did to that dumb jock Ryan.

Almost.

[bbyquokka]

fizzy pop

– yn has a habit of bottling up their emotions, chan comforts them & explains the importance of communicating about feelings/emotions.

pairing | bang chan x gender neutral reader

genre | angst w comfort – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship, mental health (low moods, low/no motivation, lose of interest in hobbies/things), pet names.

words | 2k ~ ( 2,042 )

notes | idk why but i've been putting off on posting this for months, maybe bc im nervous 🤔 don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

it's just another day. another day of just being there. another day of feeling like you have no purpose in life except to please others. another day of wondering “what is the purpose of me being here?” you fake smiles, say you're "ok" because saying how you actually feel is exhausting.

aside from it feeling exhausting, you also don't want to draw attention to yourself and when you do speak, you feel stupid for doing so, so you keep it all in, bottle it up until it's too much for you to handle. some days you wonder why you even bother to get out off bed.

is it because of the birds you hear outside? the sun's heat that you want to feel on your skin? could it be the laughter and chitter chatter of others? or maybe you want to hear the rain on the leaves–who knows. all you know is that everyday is the same and it's tiring.

the days merge into one. what day is it even? monday? tuesday? oh wait, it's saturday morning. time doesn't exist anymore. in your mind you see no point in getting up out of bed because again, what's the point? 

so why is it that your boyfriend is gently shaking you, asking, no, begging you to get up.

“darlin'. please get up.” chan whispers as he gently shakes you by the shoulders. you sigh deeply, a tired sigh that causes chan to swallow and his suspicions to come to light.

you pull the duvet over your head, body curled in a small and fragile ball. the curtains are still drawn providing darkness despite the morning rays that wish to peak inside. 

chan has been up since the crack of dawn. he has showered, made breakfast and managed to get dressed. he gave you some extra time to sleep in because he knows you're not a morning person but when the number nine on his watch turned to twelve and you're still not up and out, does he grow concerned.

he's had his suspicions for a while. he's noticed how defeated you sound. how there is little to no energy in the words you speak. he's tried everything to cheer you up, thinking, hoping you were just having an off day. but that off day turned into an off week which slowly, but surely, turned into an off month.

you lost your passion for being creative, lost the will to make anything which you despise. being creative is one of the many pleasures you have in life, to be able to make something and share your creations with others is exhilarating but when you feel like this, your mood turns bitter and cold towards everything you do which results in you resenting everything you create.

you lost the energy to speak to people. to pick up the phone and just talk. you're not deliberately ignoring nor trying to be difficult but keeping conversations flowing is just too hard right now and when you think they're giving you the same energy back do you feel so guilty. 

what have i done to deserve this? why am i forced to feel like this. you find yourself questioning everything late at night. your head loud as soon as it hits the pillow and no amount of music you blast down your ears can silence those thoughts.

everything is so exhausting. everything is the same. you just want to disappear whether that be for a few days or forever, you're not quite sure, but certain people around you wont allow that to happen. they are keeping you afloat, head above water. you desperately and silently wish they never let you go, no matter how hard you fight and push them away.

“baby, please.” chan's words dripped with desperation. his knees on the bed behind you as he kneels causing the mattress to dip. his hands on your shoulders gently as his eyes bore into the duvet, burning holes into it until he is burning holes into you. tears threaten to spill down his soft cheeks as he becomes increasingly worried for you.

“chan..“ you whisper, your words shaking. “please.. leave me alone.” 

he swallows. those three last words he hates to hear. now he is left in a difficult position. should he do as you say and leave you? leave you to fester and rot in your own thoughts and feelings. watch you melt into the mattress and become nothing but a lifeless shell. or should he force himself, force you to acknowledge him. show you, tell you that's it's going to be ok–even if you don't believe him in the beginning.

but this is chan and you know more than anyone how stubborn chan can be.

“lets go take a shower yn, together! and maybe we can go out and get lunch at that café you love so much?”

silence. 

“or how about we go to that art shop! pick up those water colours you've been eyeing up for months?”

silence.

“ok well, what about some new cloth–”

“chan please!” you snap, causing him to jump. “what part of leave me alone don't you understand?!”

you don't mean to sound harsh and you hope chan doesn't take it to heart. the last thing you want is to hurt the one person you adore so much. luckily, chan knows you don't mean it but it doesn't hurt him any less.

“all of it.” he softly speaks. you feel the weight being lifted up off the mattress and footsteps against the wood flooring before the bedroom door squeaks open at the hinges.

your heart breaks. hot angry tears finally being set free and rolling down the bridge of your nose and cheeks, soaking into the material of your pillow. you sob, curling up into a ball even more as your heart aches in your chest. you grip onto the pillow as you silently cry out for chan, thinking he has completely left you alone.

but you did ask for it so why do you feel so guilty?

the duvet gets pulled back from you, the cold air hitting your hot and sweaty skin. the mattress dips once again as an arm snakes over your midriff. chest being pressed against your back as chan spoons you.

“don't cry, darlin'. i'm here, your channie is here.” his soft words provide you with a sense of comfort and an indescribable feeling of warmth as well as relief. his hand strokes your soft stomach, his lips kissing your neck so tenderly you worry that he isn't really there. 

“c-chan…” you sob through your words as a way of confirmation. you can't breathe, the pain of everything that's built up over the past months is making it impossible for you to breathe. your mind fogs over as your chest heaves up and down.

you struggle to take breaths as tears stream down your face. your pillow becomes soaked with your tears. chan strokes your unwashed hair gently, hushing you and singing softly to help ground you.

“sh sh sh. you're ok, you're safe.” he whispers.

“sorry! i'm sorry!” you repeat over and over again in your fits of tears. chan continues to hush you, noticing that it's not working so he gently rolls you over to face him and pulls you into his naked chest. 

the warmth and softness of his skin calms you down in an instant. his natural scent hugs your nostrils and sinks into your heart, soothing your heartbeat as well as your mind. you grip onto him, desperately trying to cling onto something before resulting in wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

he gives you a bear hug. arms around your shoulders gently, fingers raking and massaging your scalp. his chest wet with tears as he continues to hush you through your episode.

there isn't much he can do when you're crying like this except wait. wait for it to pass–and it does, fifteen minutes later.

“better?” he gently asks. you peer up at him to notice that his own cheeks are wet with a few tears slowly falling.

“you're crying..” you whisper as you reach up and wipe the tears away. chan laughs softly before leaning into your touch. “why?”

“because it pains me to see you like this, my love.” that guilt comes back, settling in your stomach and wrapping itself around your heart, like black fog. you look down, tears falling from your lower lash line.

“sorry..” you mumble.

“hey.” chan unwraps his arms from you to gently lift up your head. “it hurts because i can't do anything about it. it hurts because i love you! seeing you in so much pain is rough darling. and it's not physical pain either, it's not like i can put a band aid on your wound.”

“i'm sorry i'm like this, chan. sorry i'm so difficult and such a disappointment.”

“oi.” his tone of voice turns stern which causes you to look up at him. his brows furrowed together as he reaches and strokes your cheek. “you're not a disappointment or difficult baby. it's ok to feel like this, to have off days and feel like nothing is right, however, you have to come to me when you feel like this! or if you can't come to me, talk to a friend.”

“but i hate talking about my feelings, chan.. i feel like a burden and that it just bores people and when i do confined in people, it feels like i don't get the comfort i expect to get so i'm left thinking if it's worth it and if i just expect too much from people.”

“what have i told you about bottling things up, mhm?”

“that it's just going to keep building and building until i explode.” you mumble to which chan hums and nods too

“imagine you're a bottle of fizzy pop. your body is the bottle, your feelings are the fizzy liquid. what happens when you shake a bottle of fizzy pop?”

“it bubbles and explodes, creating a huge mess.”

“and what happens when you bottle your feelings up?”

“i get shaken up by the smallest of things, which causes me to bubble and explode..”

“mhm. you have to remember, my darling, that how you feel is valid. your feelings are valid. you might seem like it's something so small or stupid, but that something small could build and build and build.”

“so i should come to you whenever i feel negative?”

“yes.”

“even if i'm frustrated at a piece of work? even if i can't get a recipe right and it annoys me?”

“yes.”

“but that is so small and not as important..”

“yn, if it's bothering you then it's big. if it's bothering you, it's important to me. if you feel angry, upset, energy less, i beg that you come to me or to a friend! it's important that we voice these things, let it be known because you'll feel better.” he tucks your hair behind your ear gently before you nuzzle into his chest, thinking about what he's saying.

he is correct. he always is and that's the thing that sometimes bothers you, but in a good way! it just means that you can't hide anything from chan, whether it's good or bad and when you are feeling down, chan is always there to pick you back up and dust you off, providing you with love and comfort.

“shall we go shower together to start the day?”

“isnt it a bit late for that? besides, hasn't your day already started?” you mumble against his chest.

“it's never too late to start the day and besides, i don't mind ‘restarting’ my day if it means i get to do it with you.” he kisses the top of your head gently, stroking your back as you tangle your legs with his.

“soon.”

“soon?” he questions.

“i just want to spend some more minutes with you..”

“we can spend as many minutes together as you like, my darling. as long as you're happy and content.”

“i'm always happy and content with you, chan. you're my safe space.”

“and i hope i continue to be and provide you with that safe space, yn.”

[rewiringtoheal]

This Pain Is Temporary

Anna x Fem!Reader

1/?

He's Just Not That Into You AU

Summary: I was watching this movie and had a lot of what if questions. What if the main cast actually all communicated with each other? What if Anna actually had some character development? What if Reader was a variation of a female Conor Barry who got a clue? And how would these differences lead to Anna genuinely falling in love with Reader.

warnings: very slowburn, angst, worse before better, eventual fluff and smut.

You feel used. This person that you love…loved?? You aren’t really sure anymore of your feelings toward Anna. It was never simple with her. And truthfully, you wish you could go back to your blissful ignorance.

 You had been so thrilled when she told you she was finally ready to take the next step with you. A real relationship with the girl of your dreams. Having your heartfelt love confession be returned and then making love for hours was more than you ever could have hoped for. 

You now knew it was all a lie. And that Anna was a very skilled actor. In your excitement you had raced home the next morning to tell your best buddy Alex and his new girlfriend GiGi the news. After showing them a picture of Anna and you. The night of bliss quickly turned sour; GiGi hesitantly told you that Anna was the same woman that had a very recent affair with her best friend's husband. And everything the past few months had started to make sense. How Anna would constantly ignore your calls but somehow always be available when she needed her emotional needs met. And finding out that the only reason she wanted a relationship with you was because the man of her dreams wouldn’t leave his wife was heartbreaking. How could you be so stupid? And how could you be so blind to the type of person Anna really was.

You felt a hand squeezing your knee bringing you back to the world around you. You  see GiGi’s hand retreating and her eyes filled with sorrow. You muster up a strained smile.

“Well, at least I had my dream girl for a moment even if it wasn’t real. Looking back, I kinda see now that she treated me like shit but I was so lost in her. I can’t believe I was so blind to her selfishness. And now this…I don’t think I ever really knew her at all,” you say somberly.  

Alex let out a deep sigh, “Dude I don’t really know what to say. She did really shitty things but maybe she's not a shitty person. The moments you had together weren’t all fake. The parts of herself she showed you are probably real. And you can love those parts and still be hurt that she lied about her feelings for you.”

You give a weak chuckle, “You’re right..but I don’t know how to deal with this. I do still love her even if she used me. I see it so clearly now. I’m the back up plan. The person she really wanted hurt her so she chose the safe option.”

Gigi looked at you, her eyes filling with sorrow, “Sometimes people don’t know what they have until it's gone. She is making awful decisions and it’s hurting everyone around her. Deal with this by loving yourself first. I know it's hard but she doesn’t appreciate you. And only wants you when she has no one else.”

That was hard to hear but Gigi was right. You need to take care of yourself. For months you have been putting all of your energy into Anna. Being there for her emotionally, picking up her dry cleaning, giving her rides, and loving her to the best of your ability. All to realize that she never really cared about you, not even as a friend. A friend wouldn’t play with your feelings like this.  

You continue to chat with your friends for a little while longer. Eventually you grow too sad and too tired to keep up the conversation. You excuse yourself for the night and head up to your bedroom. Not in the mood to do your night time routine you just chuck off your clothes, put your cellphone on your night stand and cuddle under the covers. 

Your mind keeps turning in circles as you lay there. The happiness you had felt earlier today has turned into a deep sadness. And for the first time since Gigi told you about Anna you allow yourself to cry. As silent tears move down the contours of your face you burrow into your pillow; just praying to yourself that you can fall asleep. Anything to stop the pain. 

You briefly wonder if Gigi’s friend Janine is in the same state you are right now. You know more than likely she is worse off than you. Janine's entire life is in shambles. Her husband is awful no doubt about it but you just can’t wrap your head around Anna getting involved with a married man. Nothing makes sense anymore but maybe you never had a clue to begin with.

[enzenwriting]

7 days-without a week pt3 (2.3k words!)

Jake sim x reader. #childhood friends #angst #fluff

If someone said the days came easy to you, they’d be wrong. so wrong.

your days started with Jake and ended with Jake, so when your mind and heart finally decided to let go, filtering Jake out was almost impossible.

you almost walked to Jake’s car, you almost yelled for him across the street, you almost messaged him, and you almost always wanted to stray towards him.

Ah. How embarrassing. Maybe you were clinging to him too much for a best friend only.

the argument and his words still felt very raw as if it’s the only memory you have with Jake.

“I was really being too much for a best friend huh. Now I see it and I don’t blame him for making me realise”

“Don’t be stupid y/n. Anyone would kill for a best friend like you. He’d wish he would’ve realise it sooner” euijoo

but you wish that soon never arrives. You’d rather be caught drinkjng expired milk than to be how embarassing you used to be.

“Well, there’s no point on that now. It’s time to focus my energy somewhere else. I’d get rid of this feelings for him so I can be good best friend again someday”

euijoo hated how hard you were to yourself 😔

you were initially hurt because of the rejection and then embarrassment settled.

Each emotions was a rollercoaster everyday :(((

the second week was going a lot easier, you’re attending the art club for help to busy yourself from Jake.

YOU THOUGHTTT

only to find him walking inside the classroom too????????

Jake’s eyes found and focused on yours ONLY, and suddenly he’s sitting next to you. He doesn’t even hear his friends call him

because jake was going to finally fix things with u

after he’s done shaking internally

Jake sees you concentrates back on painting. He realises it had been a while since he’s watched you in serenity.

Ah Adorable.

But he’s got to do something than stare like a creep

“uhm... so are we supposed to just colour this anyway we like?” Jake felt SICK and nervous speaking to you

and you’re no better. first his voice surprised you, then nervous settled because he was speaking to you as if nothing had or is happening between you two

You only hum and nodded, returning back to your work

awkward 🐦‍⬛

He felt awkward. He longs to talk to you and spend more time with you without having this awkward tension. Jake just wants to talk to you about anything and hear you rant about absolutely anything and everything.

So he tries again

“can… can we share paint? They didn’t give me any”

“Sure... Or you can have mine. I can ask euijoo to share with me instead” he missed your voice but the ugly mention of the male’s name struck a bullet.

just when you’re about to stand, he holds your wrist, stopping you from moving.

Ah… he should’ve done this when you first walked away he thinks.

He should’ve followed those kdrama moment

“No, we can share instead right?” his hold on your wrist loosen but his eyes on yours are still strong

“and you know I don’t like sharing what’s mine with other people” he mumbles, maybe without a thought to his words.

Uh? Did he mean you? The audacity

“This isn’t about the paint anymore… right?”

“Y/n, I’m really sorry about that day.”

“I was… I was really annoyed that day. I know it’s not an excuse, and I should’ve spoken to you about it maturely but I- um... AHHH”

Jake sim is frustrated at himself

“Look, what I’m trying to say is. I’m so sorry for all the shitty things I’ve said and done. I just- I miss you. I honestly really miss you and I just want my best friend back. Can we start over?”

What? To start over? “What does that even mean?”

“I think I- no, I like you too y/n.” He bites his lips “and I really miss you-“

Ahh. So that’s what it was about.

“You don’t like me Jake. You’re only saying that because I’m no longer around you. You’re only feeling guilty and you’re mistaking it for something else”

“Y/n no-“

“I don’t want to start over.” To start the embarrassment all over again? no. you don’t want that

“You’re mean y/n. You don’t get to decide whether I like you or not”

“I’m mean? If I’m mean, then what were you that day? Just give up on this Jake”

“Look, I’m already apologising for that. I’m sorry again but I won’t give up. I can’t give up” he knows it sounds desperate and embarrassing but he can’t give up

“ I’m saying it nicely Jake. I don’t want to start again”

“That’s unfair. You didn’t give up for years, aren’t you being a hypocrite?” oh that shouldn’t have slipped out

“I’ve given up now. You should too-“

“Nope! I’m not giving up y/n. I’ll show you it’s real, be prepared for it!” and he’s off, leaving a half painted bear.

Sim Jake stuck to his word.

“The turn have now tabled” Riki laugh, watching Jake run towards your direction with a hot chocolate in hand early in the morning.

“He really isn’t giving up huh” Sunghoon laughs but is impressed at how much effort their friend is giving

Jake had been going strong in his pursuit for 4 days. Greeting you every morning, asking if you want a ride, messaging you, trying to talking to you, and is always gravitating towards you.

You’re afraid to say Jake had also been acting beyond the boundaries of friendship.

One day, you’re wearing a short sleeve when a cool breeze took over the afternoon. Heeseung saw you shiver and offered his blazer. Jake stood up, threw the clothing on the floor and zipped his hoodie on you instead.

rip Heeseung’s blazer💔

Another one was when he joined yours and euijoo’s walk to the shop just outside of the campus. He noticed you’re walking towards the road, so he jogs next to you, shielding you from an incoming slow vehicle.

The one which stuck out to everyone was that time after one late lecture. Jake who happened to be waiting for you outside of your class, instantly saw it wasn’t your day when you walked out.

His heart broke for you :( (his bby is stressed) so without a word, he walked up and engulfed you in a hug amidst the crowd. His hands covered your ears preventing you from hearing the whispers until everyone dispersed

that day , you followed as he took you to his car and sat you on the back seat. He wrapped you with his spare blanket (he’s always had for you) and played your playlist to calm you down. He never left your side until you were calm enough to go home (driving you home too ofc)

“I can’t believe not only you rejected him, but also not giving in when he makes moves on you. I’m kinda impressed but also confuse” euijoo comments.

“He’s returning your feelings and showing he’s determined, but you still haven’t changed your mind?”

“What if it’s only temporary joojoo? Jake can be easily influenced sometimes and I’m scared this is one of those times”

“Well, i think this influence might a good thing this time and if it’s coming from the right people like Jay, heeseung and the rest? I don’t think it’s anything to be scared of. You trust them too right?”

You do. but you’re still scared

even if your heart does little flips each time he’s around you

“day 5 of Sim Jaeyun being a total simp!” Riki laughed.

“My guy is going strong but y/n isn’t changing her mind still” Heeseung joined “rightfully so”

“Stop, I can’t think of anymore ways to tell her I actually do like her, and I feel like each day I lose her” Jake slumps on his friend’s bed

“Is she going to the match this Sunday? You can totally ask Press Yang to come up with a plan. He’d be totally down for it. That guy loves drama”

Oh! That’s it.

“Hey, I have to go. Just thought of something” Jake is already rushing out of the door; the the way all his friends wave him off except Jay, busying himself on his phone.

On the 6th day, you find Sim Jaeyun outside of the library after your study session.

He waits for the crowd to disappear before he speaks.

“can i- can i try one last time?” you’re confused

“One last time y/n. I’m showing you I’m serious about you and us this time. And if- if you still want me to give up after, I’ll respect that”

“what do you mean”

“We have a match tomorrow in the school court and I’d like it if you came.”

“Oh! But it’s totally up to you, but it would be cool if you came… um because it felts empty not seeing you there- I mean. Oh my god, this isn’t part of what I practised”

There’s your awkward first year highschool Sim Jaeyun

“Here too. It’s not much and there’s a note inside for you too. Don’t read it now before I leave so” you take the folded fabric and watch as Jake makes a run for it

The boy literally pulled lighting fucking mcqueen🏃🏻‍♂️

His antics makes you chuckle. Brings you back to first yesr uni

you reach for the note inside and pocket it before unfolding the piece of cloth.

It’s his jersey with his name and your favourite number

You don’t remember Jake having this number on the back of his uniform. It had always been his lucky no.5

You reach for his note and read it.

“Hey yn, I know this isn’t much but, as you can see, I changed my jersey to your lucky number. It might seem cheesy but, I realise I’ve always been lucky with and by your existence around me. You’re my lucky charm. I was a little stupid to realise that a bit too late. I’m sorry. Initially, I felt embarrassed planning on this, but then I felt happy and excited to do this for you. I understand why you like to gift me things now :)”

Jake sim is a silly silly boy

“I don’t know if you can tell yet but I actually really like you. And I really want this to work for us if you’re willing to trust me again. I would try my best not to fuck it up.

I know this probably isn’t going to make up for all the damage I’ve done but this is my best for now. If you decide not to come, I totally understand and I’ll stick to my words. I miss you. I miss my best friend and Layla’s adopted mom. I’m sorry that it took this much for me to realise how important you are”

Silly boy. Your heart hadn’t really changed huh

Jake Sim feels sick once again. He’s in the court with his new number on the back. The game starts is a couple of minute…

BUT HE CANT FIND YOU.

He knows it was up to you at the end of the day but it doesn’t stop his heart break when the whistle blows and the game starts without his lucky charm.

Jake is now alone by his locker. He refused celebration invites by his team member after a huge win.

He didn’t feel like he won at all because he lost you.

He understands now. He understands how you felt at that moment when he said those words 2 weeks ago. He knows how it felt to be abandoned by your own best friend. The pinky promise you both made not to leave each other at the age 10 doesn’t matter.

All because he broke it first

Jake felt the tears come down and he can’t blame anyone but himself. He’ll have to live with it.

Jake Sim is ready to face his new reality. He walks out of the court towards his car-

to find you leaning on it.

shivering in the evening breeze with his jersey on your body

Is he dreaming? Is he hallucinating again? But you weren’t in the court?

“Oh! Congrats Mr. MVP! You played well there. was it the lucky charm on your back?” you grinned “had to sit somewhere else today. You’re too popular”

Jake feels his knee wobble, and wobble they did until he’s kneeling with a tear rolling down again.

Oh so that’s why you weren’t in your seat

You were there. You’re in front of him now.

His breath is shaky but a release of relief comes out.

You jog towards him, sitting down to his level, wiping his tears. “Why are you crying? You literally won”

“You?”

You nod

Jake Sim really won. In a quick swift, he lifts you in a tight hug, spinning on the spot.

“I promise I won’t hurt you again. I promise I’ll be your best friend. I promise I’ll be your soulmate. I promise I won’t make you leave like that again”

“You’re my best friend. I won’t let you”

“And as your boyfriend I promise I’ll keep my promises”

“And as your girlfriend. I keep reminding you”

7 days a week, what did they mean to each other.

ׄ 　۪ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ ׄ

an: that’s allllll for me! I hope you also found the Easter egg in there🤭

lots of love🥰

7 days masterlist / main masterlist

[dippindaz]

could you write something with billy where the reader is very similar to him personality wise? :)

Sorry there isn’t much to this one, I was at a bit of a loss! But I hope you enjoy regardless!

The roaring engine of Billy Hargrove’s Camaro echoed through the Hawkins High parking lot, a siren for trouble. You leaned against your car across the lot, cigarette dangling from your fingers, watching him through narrowed eyes.

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t walked inside yet. Maybe you wanted to see if the King of Hawkins High was everything people claimed he was. Or maybe you were just bored.

Billy stepped out, his swagger as loud as his car. He didn’t notice you at first, too busy scanning for his next conquest. But when his eyes finally landed on you, something shifted.

You didn’t look away. Instead, you blew a lazy stream of smoke in his direction, your lips curling into a smirk.

“Nice car,” you drawled, your voice dripping with a mix of challenge and indifference. “Guess compensating is a universal language.”

Billy froze for a second before his mouth curved into a grin, sharp and wolfish. He strolled toward you, his cocky demeanor practically daring you to keep going.

“You got a lot of opinions for someone I’ve never seen around here,” he shot back, folding his arms.

“And you got a lot of ego for someone I just met,” you countered, flicking ash onto the ground.

His grin widened. “You always this mouthy, or am I just special?”

You shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Billy’s gaze didn’t waver, and neither did yours. It was like a silent game, two sparks waiting to ignite. He took a step closer, the air between you charged with that strange energy only the two of you seemed to understand.

“You know,” he started, voice lower now, “most people are too scared to talk to me like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving your face. “Maybe they just know better.”

Billy’s lips twitched, clearly amused but also a little intrigued. He studied you for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what made you tick.

“And what about you?” he asked, leaning in just a bit. “You think you know better than me?”

“Don’t know if I know better, but I definitely know how to handle people like you,” you said, pushing off from your car and standing tall. You had never been one to back down, especially not now, when the challenge in his eyes made your pulse race.

Billy’s grin turned predatory, like he was enjoying this—enjoying you. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing toe-to-toe with him. “You talk a big game, but deep down, you’re just like everyone else.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “And how’s that?”

“You hide behind the bullshit. The car. The attitude. But I see it, Hargrove. You’re just as messed up as the rest of us.”

There it was. The thing neither of you had ever dared to say aloud. It hung in the air, heavy and raw.

For a moment, Billy’s expression faltered. You saw it—just for a second—the mask slipping. Then, just as quickly, it was back in place, harder and colder than before.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he muttered, but his voice wasn’t as confident anymore.

You could tell you’d hit a nerve, and for once, you didn’t back away. You stood firm, watching him struggle to regain his composure.

“Maybe I don’t,” you said, voice softer now but no less cutting. “But I know enough to see when someone’s full of shit.”

Billy’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath, trying to mask whatever vulnerability had slipped through. He forced a chuckle, stepping back, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Well, aren’t you a little truth-teller.”

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you took another drag from your cigarette, the smoke swirling between you like a barrier.

“I don’t have time for games, Hargrove,” you finally said, flicking the cigarette away. “If you want to throw insults, fine. But if you think you can scare me off with your attitude, you’re wrong.”

Billy studied you for a long moment, and just when you thought he was about to say something else, he just laughed—a low, genuine laugh that startled you.

“You’re something else, aren’t you?” he muttered, shaking his head. Then he smirked. “Guess we’ll see how long you last.”

You watched him walk away, but something in his voice lingered. A challenge.

And you never backed down from a challenge.

—————————————————————————

Music thumped through the walls of Tommy H.’s house, the bass reverberating in your chest as you wove through the crowded living room. Red solo cups littered every surface, and the smell of cheap beer mingled with perfume and cologne. You didn’t even know why you’d come.

Maybe because it was something to do. Maybe because a part of you wanted to see if Billy would show up.

You didn’t have to wonder long.

The Camaro was impossible to miss, gleaming under the streetlights when you arrived. Inside, Billy was holding court, a drink in one hand and a girl draped over his shoulder. His laugh cut through the room like a knife, drawing every eye to him. He lived for that kind of attention.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on whatever watered-down drink someone had handed you, watching him with a mix of amusement and irritation. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too caught up in being the center of everyone’s world.

“You’re staring,” came a voice beside you.

You turned to find Carol smirking, her lipstick too bright for the dim lighting. She was practically radiating smugness, like she’d just uncovered some big secret.

“And?” you replied, your tone sharp enough to make her falter.

“Nothing,” she said with a shrug, flipping her hair. “Just thought it was funny. You and Billy? I mean, come on.”

You didn’t bother responding. People like Carol thrived on reactions, and you weren’t about to give her one.

As if on cue, Billy finally noticed you. His gaze slid past the crowd, zeroing in on you like a predator locking onto its prey. The smirk that followed was slow, deliberate, and infuriatingly cocky.

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. If he wanted a game, you’d give him one.

It didn’t take long for him to weave his way over, leaving his entourage behind without a second thought. The crowd seemed to part for him like he owned the place.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you.

“Didn’t think you’d care,” you shot back, taking another sip of your drink.

Billy chuckled, tilting his head as he studied you. “Oh, I care. Can’t have someone like you running around stealing my thunder.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Please. I’ve been stealing your thunder since day one.”

That laugh again, low and genuine, but with an edge. “You really think you can keep up with me?”

You turned to face him fully, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “I don’t need to keep up, Hargrove. I’m already ahead.”

For a moment, the air between you crackled with something almost dangerous. His smirk faltered, just slightly, and you could tell he wasn’t used to someone standing toe-to-toe with him.

Before he could respond, the girl he’d been with earlier appeared, sliding her arm around his waist. “Billy,” she whined, glaring at you like you’d just insulted her entire family.

Billy didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on you, the smirk returning as if to say, What are you going to do about it?

You didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. Instead, you reached out and plucked his drink from his hand, taking a slow sip of it.

“See you around, Hargrove,” you said, your voice smooth and confident as you turned and walked away.

You didn’t need to look back to know he was watching you. You could feel it, the weight of his gaze burning into your back.

————————————————————————-

The party had spilled out into the backyard, where the air was cooler, tinged with the smell of cigarette smoke and freshly cut grass. You leaned against the edge of the wooden fence, letting the muffled bass of the music fade into the background. The drink you’d stolen from Billy was still in your hand, though you’d barely touched it.

You weren’t alone for long.

The creak of boots on the grass caught your attention, but you didn’t look over. You already knew who it was.

“You’ve got a bad habit of stealing what’s mine,” Billy said, his voice low and rough.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes. His smirk was still there, but there was something darker beneath it now.

“Didn’t realize a drink counted as a prized possession,” you replied, tilting the cup toward him mockingly.

Billy took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’m not talking about the drink,” he said, his voice dropping even lower.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest even as your pulse quickened. “Let me guess. Your ego’s bruised because I didn’t fall at your feet like everyone else?”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You think you’re so tough, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “Or maybe I just know you can’t handle someone who doesn’t play by your rules.”

That struck a nerve. You saw it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his smirk flickered for just a moment. But instead of snapping back, he leaned in even closer, his voice a low murmur.

“Careful,” he said, his breath brushing against your ear. “You might find out just how wrong you are.”

You didn’t react. If he wanted to intimidate you, he was going to be disappointed.

“You know,” you said, your tone as sharp as the edge of a knife, “for someone who talks such a big game, you’re awfully predictable.”

Billy straightened, his eyes narrowing. The tension between you was electric, crackling with the kind of energy that could either end in a fight or something else entirely.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out?” he asked, his voice hard now, defensive.

You took a step closer this time, the space between you nearly nonexistent. “I think you’re scared,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “Scared someone might actually call you out. Scared someone might see through all the crap you pull and realize there’s nothing underneath.”

For a second, the mask fell. You saw it—the raw vulnerability he tried so hard to bury. But just as quickly, he snapped back, his smirk returning like a shield.

“You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he muttered, but his tone was different now. Softer.

“Not a chance,” you said, taking one last sip of his drink before shoving the empty cup into his chest. “See you later, Hargrove.”

You turned and walked back toward the house, leaving him standing there, staring after you like he didn’t know whether to be furious or impressed.

And you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

[burreauxwrites]

“LOATHING” - (joe burrow x oc)

CHAPTER ONE - “forgotten”

word count: 2.5k

warnings: joe is an ass (again, for the plot), ja’marr tries playing mediator, angst

it’s early in the morning, almost too early. with a groggy groan, joe lazily strolls into the building, rubbing his eyes and adjusting his backpack. he has no idea why he chose to do early classes, but it was too late to change his schedule. besides, he doesn’t even have a clue in the world what classes he’d change anyway.

as he’s walking, his friend ja’marr calls out to him. “hey, wait up, man!”

joe turns around, chuckling and fist bumping ja’marr once he approaches. the two are basically peas in a pod. wherever one of them is, the other isn’t too far away. most of joe’s secrets were kept with ja’marr; or at least they are now. back then, it would be winnie who kept his secrets, but the past is the past.

he’s got better things to focus on, like football and all the hot chicks. football more than anything, but girls are a plus too.

as the two walk, ja’marr finally speaks, recalling that first day of school. “hey man,” he starts, sipping his energy drink before continuing, “who was that one girl you bumped into?”

“when?” joe asks, raising an eyebrow as he walks along with ja’marr. he’s kind of a big guy; well, kind of is an understatement. he honestly just bumps into people sometimes. he can’t help it.

“yknow, the first day of school?” ja’marr continues, his tone filled with confusion as if to say ‘is his memory that damn bad?’

after a moment of thinking, joe remembers. he scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “winifred?” he sneers, looking at his friend. “oh, she’s no one. just an old acquaintance.”

ja’marr nodded, tilting his head. “what kind of name is ‘winifred’ though? sounds like an old lady’s name.” he chuckles.

“yeah? well…i don’t know. it’s a stupid name, i’ll tell you that.” joe laughs.

the two continue walking, before ja’marr pipes up again; this time, he has a piece of gossip. “well…i heard through the grapevine,” he looks around, “she’s trying out for the volleyball team.”

…really? joe is in disbelief. winnie never had an athletic bone in her body. she was more of a board game connoisseur. but volleyball? whatever.

“pfft. yeah right,” he brushes ja’marr’s words off, “she can barely kick a ball, let alone hit it with her hands.”

“huh…how do you know that? i thought you were only acquaintances.”

well, ja’marr has a point. but joe wasn’t going to let him know that. “well, i saw her play a bit of sports when we did interact. she was so bad.” he laughs.

soon enough, they make it towards their destination, the first class of the day. it’s math, which is not the most pleasing class to have in the morning. but here they are.

joe and ja’marr find a seat in the back, whispering every now and then as other students piled in. of course, they gawk at the girls who walk in, pointing out the hot ones. typical college guy stuff. nothing out of the ordinary for dudes.

in comes winnie, her hair in a messy bun. she let’s out a small yawn before taking a seat in the middle of the room.

joe’s face immediately drops, and almost turns pale. no way. she’s in this class. she’s going to be in this same class with him. oh god. he looks at ja’marr, who to his surprise, has something nice to say about winnie, calling her “cute”. more like…repulsing for him.

“cmon, man. she seems nice!” ja’marr shrugs, watching as winnie finds a seat.

“you don’t know her like i know her…”

unbeknownst to him, winnie overhears what he says. and it stings. because it’s true. ja’marr doesn’t know her like joe knows her. he didn’t grow up with her and befriend her. but apparently, none of that matters when it comes to what their friendship was.

truthfully, joe doesn’t know her. not anymore.

with a sigh, winnie places her notebook on the desk, holding her pen in her hand as she prepares to take notes.

okay…pythagorean theorem…easy enough to remember. just need to write it down, and-

a faint thwack can be heard as a paper ball hits her in the head. she looks on the floor, picking it up and looking at it. slowly, she unravels it to read what it could possibly say.

good luck with volleyball tryouts, winifred. you aren’t going to make the team. - joey.

asshole…what is his problem?

“miss rosewood,” the professor speaks, her gaze sharp and pointed as she looks at winnie, “care to reveal what’s so important on that piece of paper?”

winnie’s eyes widen. she shakes her head no, waving her hand as well. “no, um, i’m sorry, sir-”

“that wasn’t an offer. it’s a command, miss rosewood.”

really…? she has to read this stupid letter…out loud? she looks around, all the students looking on in expectation and excitement. this will be really funny. at least for joe. winnie? not so much.

her hand shakes as she looks at the letter, reading it with a wobbly voice. “good luck with tryouts, winifred,” she reads, her eyes burning with frustration, hurt…embarrassment. why must this happen to her? why is joe doing this to her? “you aren’t going to make the team…joey.”

some students snicker, others bursting out in pure laughter. those who know joe give looks his way and gave him a thumbs up. there are a few people, mostly girls who feel bad for winnie. one girl says “joe, that was mean…!”

amidst the chaos, the professor sighs in regret, holding his forehead. “forget it…! let’s move on to the next formula you all need to know.” he groans, switching to the next slide.

————————

after a few classes later, winnie sat in the cafeteria, her mind still foggy with anger and hatred. hatred for joe’s words. hatred for joe. she has no idea what’s gotten into him. this was very much unlike him. not only does he seem to not know her anymore…, she doesn’t know him anymore. she has no clue as to why he’s doing the things he’s doing. but he’s practically tormenting her. he’s making her life a living hell and destroying their friendship.

it hurts her heart; she can’t even find the words to describe how she feels, other than…loathing. she loathes joe. everything he’s doing, and will likely continue to do, pisses her off.

“oh look. it’s winifred.”

speak of the fucking devil. winnie sighs, turning around. “what do you want, joe?” she mumbles, shaking her head in annoyance.

“what? i can’t say hi?” joe throws his hands up as he looks at her, faux confusion in his gaze.

winnie shook her head, sighing as she does. “don’t act like you fucking know me.”

joe’s smirk fades as he hears the hiss in her voice, folding his arms. “well excuse me,” he derides, rolling his eyes, “i’m really just trying to be nice.”

“nice?” winnie asks, laughing a little in disbelief. “you call bumping into me and throwing paper at me nice? humiliating me in front of everyone,” she rants, “you call that shit being nice?”

“oh, toughen up, winifred-”

“stop fucking calling me that!”

everyone nearby turns around. all eyes are on winnie as she lashes out, her eyes filled with unadulterated fury, anger…hurt. she’s pissed. more than pissed.

“i literally want absolutely nothing to do with you, joe. nothing.” winnie forewarns, pointing a shaky finger at him. “so much for you promising to remember me…”

with a cold, calloused stare, joe spoke.

“i don’t remember you.”

“i know…” winnie nods, her eyes filled with tears. “i know you don’t.”

with that, she storms off, leaving the others around to chatter a bit, curious about what the story even is between joe and winnie. with joe’s popularity, most people took his side, as one would expect.

but as far as winnie is concerned, she couldn’t give two shits about who supported him. she’s broken. betrayed. her best friend that she’s known for years, and he’s now treating her like nothing. but if that’s what he wants, then so be it. even if it almost kills her inside, she’ll avoid joe. she’ll go on as if nothing ever happened between them. as if they were never, ever…friends.

“oh my gosh…!” a ditzy blonde named emma chimed, standing next to joe. she flips her hair dramatically, her hand touching his bicep as she looks up at him.

“are you okay?” she inquires, her voice unnecessarily worried and exaggerated, “i saw how she spoke to you. what a bitch!”

joe gazes at emma, shrugging it off, “i’m all good,” he says, smirking and looking at her, “at least i am, now that i’m looking at you.”

the girls nearby all swoon, others talking about wanting their own time with joe. it’s honestly quite ridiculous, basically having his own fanclub of girls. but he takes it all in stride. in fact, one might say he enjoys the attention. having all the eyes on him. it’s exciting, tantalizing even.

and it just might take his mind off of the problems he’s having with winnie. besides, she’s just too…different.

————————

with a sigh, winnie practiced her jump serve once again. she took a breath, closing her eyes, visualizing all the motions. slowly, she takes two steps, tossing the ball up and hitting it.

she watches, smiling softly as it went over the net. it’s true, she’s never been a ‘sporty’ person. but if there’s anything she liked, it was volleyball. she’d practice all the time as a little girl, watching the olympics and pretending to be like them.

volleyball was her safe haven. it’s always been. even with all the chaos in her life; her parents fighting constantly, her dad being away. if there’s one thing she did have, it was volleyball. and so she knows that with some practice and dedication, she’ll make the team. but…

why did joe’s note hurt so bad?

she’s never doubted herself, at least, not until he decided to be an ass.

“um, excuse me.”

winnie turns, and she sees…ja’marr? that’s odd. what on earth is he doing here?

“oh…hi!” she pauses, looking at him, almost hesitantly. what if he was like joe? arrogant and selfish?

ja’marr grinned, looking down at winnie a bit apologetically. “so uh, i know i’m joe’s friend and all,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck. “and you don’t seem to be on good terms with him. sorry about that.”

winnie shakes her head, giving a reassuring smile of her own. “it’s fine…not your fault,” she says, her voice gentle; she’s naturally soft spoken though anyways. “i really don’t know what’s gotten into him. did he tell you about me?”

“yeah…he uh…he said you guys were old acquaintances.”

wow. acquaintances. of course joe would say that. even though the two had been friends for years. the two literally walked home from school together every single day. if people were ever giving winnie a hard time, joe would threaten to beat them up, just for her.

but yeah…they’re only “old acquaintances.”

sensing winnie’s overall demeanor and tension at the revelation of how joe described her, ja’marr frowned a bit. he doesn’t know anything about their history, but he knows that she must’ve felt some sort of care for joe.

“but…i want to hear from you,” ja’marr folds his arms, watching as winnie continues practicing, “i mean, he almost treats you like…a plague of some sort.”

winnie looks at ja’marr, her gaze softening slightly. it was rare that anyone ever took her side, or even chose to hear her out. no matter what, if something happens, it’s her fault. even as a kid, she was never even allowed to explain herself.

“truthfully,” she hesitates, her voice quiet as she recalls her friendship with joe, “we were close friends. always have been. we first met in the first grade after someone pushed me on the playground.”

winnie laughs, remembering the moment vividly, “he gave me a caramel apple lollipop and played with me for the rest of the time,” she grins sadly, “even when he had friends he was already playing with.”

ja’marr chuckles, looking at winnie. “and it was friendship ever since then?”

“yeah…i mean, we were there for each other. for better or for worse.” winnie recounts. upon recalling the fond memories between her and joe, she sighs. “he was always sweet to me when no one else was.”

ja’marr is…intrigued. they were friends all that time? and not one of them…had a crush on each other? to him, it sounded like one of them, be it winnie or joe, maybe liked each other.

“and then…? why aren’t you guys close now?”

“i moved. i left ohio to go to texas because of my dad’s military job,” winnie resumes, reaching back into the basket of volleyballs, “it was better for him there. but i was…definitely lonely.”

“oh. i’m sorry about that,” ja’marr nods, “and i’m sorry that joe is being the way he is. seems like you guys had history.”

winnie sighs, giving an apathetic shrug. “it’s okay…they say most things are temporary,” she laments.

“seems like our friendship was too.”

ja’marr watches in silence as she serves the ball over the net. damn. he was gonna have a small bone to pick with joe. he doesn’t want to interfere, but maybe he can help him reconcile with winnie. after all, she doesn’t seem too bad.

with a nod, he places his hands in his pockets. “well…i gotta get going,” he says, looking at winnie, smiling softly, “i’ll uh…keep what you said about you and joe in mind-”

“i should’ve told him how i felt.”

pause. as soon as ja’marr almost walks away, he looks at winnie. “what…?”

“that last day…eight grade…when i told him i was moving,” she begins, “i had a small crush on him at the time. but i never said anything…”

“and that’s because…?”

“because i was moving. even if i did tell him, it wouldn’t matter,” winnie ran a hand through her hair, “and i didn’t want to make shit worse. i already told him i was moving.”

ja’marr nods. so his assumption was correct. “well…i’m sorry about that…”

“don’t worry. just,” she pauses, “don’t tell joe about any of this. about the conversation we had. any care i had for him is gone.”

“will do, …uh-”

“winnie…” she confirms her name with a small smile. she’s sure he knows that joe has been calling her winifred, so nows her time to set the record straight.

ja’marr grins, patting winnie’s shoulder fondly.

————————

“she what?”

“look man, this is what she said. she liked you, but never said anything because she was moving.”

joe rolls his eyes, tossing the football to another receiver nearby. “that’s ridiculous. we were never close like that.”

“bro, you don’t get it. she’s mad hurt by how you’re acting,” ja’marr explains, “i don’t what kind of beef you two have, but if y’all just work it out-”

“there’s nothing to work out, ja’marr,” joe snaps coldly, “we’re not friends.”

throwing his hands up, ja’marr sighs. “okay…just saying, man. she’s almost devastated.”

“well,” joe catches the ball, “she can get over it.”

ja’marr feels bad. real bad. but i guess that’s how life it sometimes. people get close, move on, and forget each other.

but to him, winnie hasn’t forgotten.

yes we’re starting off the first chapter with angst 😮‍💨 ALSO joey is not gonna be a butthead the whole fic, i promise <3 he’s just in denial fr.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Deadpool × Gojo Satoru

I assume you mean Deadpool reader/us. Tbh, I love Deadpool so why not. I think we all love Deadpool and he’d mix very well with Satoru persoanlity-wise! Anyhow, let’s get to work, shall we?

Gojo Satoru- Ketchup & Mayonnaise

So. After his favourite Golden Trio had graduated from the high school overall, and Satoru couldn’t teach them anymore. He was hoping the next set of trainees will be as entertaining and he was pleased with the results. Being you, his new favourite

You’re a witty immature highly sarcastic good humoured dumbass-badass. You’re just like Satoru and he appreciates that heavily so the moment you crack a snarky one liner at his blindfold, he’s already taking up like thirty minutes of class trying to out joke you

Satoru really relates to you, personality-wise, since he can just see himself through you and your behaviours with everybody. Neve taking anything seriously, belittling opponents, making jokes out of everything. Goddamn, he already loves you

Satoru regularly picks you to join him on his missions, solely so you two can goof around before, inbetween and after the target is defeated since he revels in the fact somebody is like him and doesn’t view sorcerer work as serious as everybody else around him does

Satoru finds your cursed technique and cursed energy impressive, it’s practically a technique that grants you immortality and your cursed energy can be used as a continuous regenerative factor to the point you can gain back limbs, come back to life when seemingly killed and seem to either not age or at all or age unbelievably slow

Satoru likes to blow your limbs off with Red or Blue as a ‘punishment’ when you disobey his orders(as you don’t follow authority, even his) since he knows you’ll be completely fine with your incredible control of your technique and cursed energy percentage. He hurts you because he adores you

Satoru is the world’s worst dad figure but he truly does care about you, he’ll be there for you. He does act his… uh, his own way but he cares, he’ll support you, he’ll teach you… his own way. He shows his like for you in the way only Satoru Gojo can

Satoru shouldn’t let you handle katanas but he does anyway since he knows you’re talented and he isn’t a dumbass enough to ignore such talent. Infact, he wants you to harness your talent and expand it, watching with a obvious smirk and hidden pride, behind his bandana, in his mesmerising blue eyes

Satoru often takes you out to lunches on Tokyo so you two can hang out. You’re not just his student, y’all his buddy and one time, you two found a odd modified bike then repaired it and filled it with banana peels and alcohol so it’ll end with you two speed-flying across the nigh sky and breaking into Jujutsu High from the roof

Satoru also should be worried how murderous and deranged you are since you regularly maim and tear apart Cursed Spirit enemies with your weaponry of choice but eh… he does the same thing with Red/Blue/Purple/Infinity so he’d be a hypocrite. Once again, he lets it slide since he likes you a lot

Satoru appreciates that you’re a truly good person in the inside, despite how crude you are and how bad at reading the room you are. Many consider you just a asshole… like him, but you work with him to actively help people so to Satoru, you’re just a silly kooky little anti-hero

Satoru may or may not write stupid comments or jokes on your paperwork/assignments and wait for your response as you two just end chatting about it for ages during lunch or after school since you two are that close. Basically friends, despite being teacher and student

Suspect Satoru to brag about you. You’re his best student… behind only the Golden Trio. You’re his favourite and he’ll always have your back, even after you graduate but for now, he’ll keep you liking him the most since he understands you the most

And you understand him the most… your attitude and the way you act in general almost reminds him of what Geto use to be

“Yo! Yo! Myoji, we’re having a school baseball game. You joining? Of course bring the grenades, we’re gonna prank that old man and make him regret thinking we suck! Yeah, also Utahime. I got ya back!”

[hannahbarberra162]

Not My Monkey, Ch 1.

(Reverse Trope Isekai Reader)

I thought it would be funny to have a reverse trope -- instead of having one Isekai Reader who knows everything, too many isekai readers have already messed up the OP timeline beyond recognition.

I'm still writing all my other works, I just needed to get this out of my system. I don't think this will float most people's boats, but that OK.

on Ao3

Platonic Strawhats | Reader / Jinbei

This chapter's plot heavy, I had to get some of the world building out of the way. The rest will be more fun and silly / some romance / angst later. Also, this is my first time writing most (all?) of the Straw hats. It’s been challenging, so please be kind <3. There’s 10 of them but only one of me.

~~~

“Robin! Another one’s here!” Some kid in a straw hat was yelling right next to you, causing you to wince. You had a massive headache, you hadn’t felt this hungover since…wait. You didn’t drink anymore. You opened your eyes to a sunny day on…a wood boat? You were definitely sailing on open water. Maybe the ocean since you smelled salt… What kind of dream was this? Sure, you had anxiety dreams of drowning but nothing so pleasant .

A disembodied hand grabbed your ankle and held on tightly. It startled you but since this was a dream there was no need to worry. You were kind of enjoying the sun and the water, so what was a hand (with beautiful nail beds, but dry cuticles) going to do? You turned your head to find a black haired boy staring at you inches from your face.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” you said to the boy. He grinned at you and laughed.

“Shishishishi, it’s me! Luffy! You made it!” 

“Made it where?” Were you supposed to know who he was?

“To the Going Merry! You’re our twentieth reader -”

“Twenty third,” said another guy you hadn’t seen. This one was napping against the mast, talking with eyes still closed. He had luscious green hair that you’d want to check out later. You didn’t see any roots showing so either he had dyed it recently or…oh wait you were in a conversation.

“Sounds good, Loogie. I’m not quite following what’s happening.” This was the most complex dream you’d ever had. You’d never been able to interact like this before in a dream. It all felt like real life. You started to wonder if maybe something else was going on.

“Shishishi it’s LUFFY! But you know that! So what was the last thing you read?” The boy was still sitting incredibly close to you and practically vibrating with energy. 

“Um, I read a biography of Catherine the Great. Why?” Luffy tilted his head at your words.

“Is she in Egghead or Wano?” 

“Um, in Russia? I don’t think she’d be called an egghead though.” The green haired guy huffed and got up.

“Gonna be a difficult one. Robin can figure it out. Nappin’ on the other side of the deck,” he said to Luffy, walking away. He looked like he was flexing his back as you watched him retreat. His three swords clacked against each other, making you wonder how practical it was to have so many.

“No, she’s gonna be a great reader!” Luffy smiled at you again. You smiled back, but were very confused. The hand gripping your ankle was still there holding on tight. A breathtakingly beautiful woman with black hair, looking to be growing out some bangs, was walking towards you with her arms crossed in front of her. Even though she exuded radiance, her intense blue eyes pinned you with a stare. She sat down in front of you, keeping her arms crossed.

“Hello,” you said. Might as well be polite in dreamland.

“Hi,” the woman said smiling. “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

Long ago, you were tired of baristas messing up your name (even though it wasn’t hard!). So when someone asked for your name, you supplied their own back to them. It usually worked out ok, and gave room for some awkward chit chat while you waited for your coffee.

“Isn’t that funny? My name is also Robin.” The woman quirked an eyebrow but kept her smile and nodded.

“Shishishishi two Robins! But what can we call you then? It’s too confusing having two Robins on board.” Luffy rubbed his chin in thought. 

“Interesting thought, Captain. For now, I have a prepared document I’d like you to read. It should answer the most common questions we get asked by Readers.” The woman handed you a scroll. What in the medieval ages was this?

“Robin TWO!” Luffy said, snapping his fingers. You untied the scroll. Might as well see what it said.

“I don’t think Robin 2 is a flattering name,” Robin told Luffy. “Let’s think of other ideas. In the meantime, let Robin read.” The hand patted your ankle. “It’s best if I keep a hold of you until the shock wears off. Saves a lot of time chasing people down.” She kept a hold of you? Whatever. Looking at the scroll, you saw an elegantly handwritten list.

~~~

Frequently Asked Questions - for Readers

Where am I?

You are on board the Going Merry . Franky has modified it so it does not bear complete resemblance to the original ship but it is also not the 1,000 Sunny .

Is this real?

Quite real. This world is as real to us as yours was to you. This is not a dream, hallucination, or simulation.

Am I dead?

We are not sure. It seems to be likely based on the anecdotes of previous Readers. However, there is no way to know conclusively.

Why was I brought here?

We do not know the criteria under which Readers are brought to our world. We believe it has to do with your intense love of “One Piece.”

What happened to my belongings?

It seems whatever you had last in your world is what came here, with a few exceptions. Cell phones, laptops, and other electronics never make it to our world. We have your belongings on the ship, if you would like to have them.

What will happen to me? Can I stay on the ship?

Readers have stayed in our world for 21 days, after which they disappear. We do not know what happens afterward. During your 21 days, you will remain with us on the ship. You may stay in the men’s quarters.

Is there a way to get back to my world?

Not that we know of. We are unsure if you are transported there once again when you disappear. 

Are there other readers?

There is only ever one Reader in our world at a time. The Strawhat Pirates have had the most Readers, though the Heart Pirates and Whitebeard Pirates have had a few as well.

What arc are we on?

The “timeline” that you know has been completely abandoned. With so much additional information and insight into future events, the events of this world have been drastically changed. We are not in recognizable “arcs” any longer.

What about Ace? Thatch? Whitebeard? Corazon? Sabo?

Thanks to the information supplied by Readers, Ace, Thatch and Whitebeard are all alive. Yamato has joined the Whitebeard crew with Ace. We had a time traveling Reader who saved Cora-san. Sabo has been made aware of Ace and Luffy and they have already reunited.

Can I fight? In our experience, Readers are quite weak and unable to fight. If you wish to try, you must first defeat Usopp in an arm wrestling contest.

Note: Please do not bring up our individual histories. We experienced them as real people and do not appreciate discussing them. Thank you.

~~~

You finished reading the scroll and re-rolled it. It addressed some of your concerns, but also had a lot of information you didn’t know what to do with. You handed the scroll back to Robin.

“You should call this the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” you told the raven haired beauty. You still had your sense of humor even when dead, it turned out. Er, maybe dead.

“That is quite an excellent suggestion, I think I shall,” Robin nodded solemnly and took the scroll with another arm sprouting from her own. You’d ask her about that later. 

“What questions do you still have?” Robin asked kindly.

“Why do I have to stay in the men’s quarters?” 

“Oh, that is not applicable to you. Nearly all of our Readers have been men, usually Torao has the female Readers. You can join Nami and myself in the women’s quarters.” 

“I’m dead then, huh?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, especially when you felt so alive. 

“Robin B!” Luffy shouted from a few feet away. He still hadn’t given up on a nickname for you.

“No, Luffy, I don’t care for that,” Robin said calmly. “That would make me Robin A, which I am not. And yes, you are likely dead.” 

“That’s a bummer.” You’d think about that and deal with your feelings later, this was all too weird to believe right now. You fiddled with the necklace you were wearing. None of this felt real at all. Besides, one of your best traits as a person was your ability to roll with things. You had always been pretty open to change, though this change was…drastic.

“Interesting - few readers express that emotion upon arriving in our world. Readers are usually thrilled to be here with us.” Robin looked like she wanted to study you in a lab.

“Um, so what’s a Reader? Or a One Piece?” You might as well learn while you were here for the next few weeks. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Robin said, the hand patting your ankle. “We aren’t going to harm you for your information. We’ve probably heard it all already. We know that we’re a comic and a show in your world. You’re not in danger.” You hadn’t considered that you might be in danger, but you were thinking about it now.

“TWO Robin!” Luffy yelled from across the deck. He’d been pacing and trying to think of a good nickname this whole time.

“Luffy, that is the worst suggestion yet.” Robin frowned. 

“Aw, you don’t like any of ‘em! This is frustrating. Maybe we can just call her Mystery Reader !” 

“Not every reader is a Mystery Reader, Luffy. You can’t say that for -” Robin was chastising Luffy.

“Myst is fine. Short for Mystery.” You didn’t really care what they called you since, you know, you’d be going to the afterlife in about three weeks.

“ Shishishishishi I knew you’d be a good reader, Misty!” Luffy stretched his arms from where he stood to wrap them around you. Misty, sure. That was similar to what you said. What the…was this kid rubber? Add one more weird thing to the pile, why not? 

“What other questions do you have?”

You were gonna put your cards on the table. “Listen Robin, I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of your handbook. I don’t know any of those people, or any of you, or what this show is. I don’t know why I’m here, I have no information to give you. I watch documentaries and sometimes HGTV. This is like a new employee orientation for a job I didn’t apply to. ” Robin nodded sagely.

“I quite like that phrase - new employee orientation. Perhaps more of a ‘new reader orientation.’ In any event, you’re here with us now, whether you know any information or not. I am going to release you, and you can get settled in.” The hand holding on to you vanished as you watched. 

“Cool party trick.” 

“Yes, they are very useful, though not always appreciated at parties.” Robin stood up and you did the same. You stretched your legs and back as you’d been sitting for a while. Robin was a tall drink of water, you thought. You were average height, nothing crazy. But she was statuesque and slim, making you think of your own body. Sure, you had some self confidence, but as you approached closer to middle age, things didn’t look quite the same as they once did. And Robin looked like a supermodel, graceful and elegant.

“Do I hear the sweet voice of a lovely Mellorine?” said a handsome waiter, holding a glass of water on a tray. He was practically swooning and you’d never met before. A little strange, but maybe he was just enthusiastic. Robin looked at the waiter, who was wearing a three piece suit.

“This is Sanji, our chef. He is also one of the Wings to the Captain.” 

“Oh, sweet Mellorine -” 

“Wait, who is the Captain?” You cut off Sanji, you realized you didn’t know who was running this show.

Sanji’s expression showed surprise. He looked at Robin for clarification, pausing in moving the tray your way to your dismay. You really wanted that water.

“Misty, as Captain calls her, does not know anything about our world. We will all have to introduce ourselves.” 

“Wait, does that mean Luffy is -”

“The Captain,” answered Robin and Sanji simultaneously. That kid?! The one who suggested they call you “Two Robin”? You didn’t say anything so as not to insult their captain or whatever but the kid didn’t look like he could be older than 18. Not your circus, not your monkey. As long as the ship didn’t sink in the next three weeks, it didn’t really matter to you.

“Right, right. That seems…good. Um, Sanji, is that water for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Sanji looked like you’d asked him to senior prom.

“Oh, dear, sweet, beautiful Misty, it would be an honor to serve you this water.” He bowed to you with a flourish. Alright, time to nip this in the bud.

“Look kid, I’m old enough to be your mother. Cut it out. But thank you for the water.” He deflated a little but not for long. 

“Like wine, most women only get better with age,” he said with a charming smile. “As Robin mentioned, I am Sanji, the chef on our crew. Do you have any dietary restrictions?” 

“Oh, I’ll eat anything you make.” 

“Is that so? Truly, no restrictions? Preferences? Allergies?” For all his attempted flirting before, he seemed serious right now. 

“Well, truthfully, I’m vegetarian. So, no meat.” Sanji nodded, smiling once again.

“Not a problem. Do you eat fish?”

“Ah, no. No animals.” You saw a rubber arm going past you as Luffy rocketed himself to your side. Rubber had its uses it seemed.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy yelled into your face, completely incredulous.

“Nope, haven’t in over 20 years.” You moved your head back away from his. Kid didn’t have much need for personal space.

“What do you eat then!?” It was like the kid couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of not eating meat. You shrugged. You’d had this conversation in various forms many, many times before.

“Vegetables, fruit, grains, legumes, things like that.” Luffy furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before it cleared into a bright smile.

“SANJI - can I have Misty’s portion of meat??” 

“No! If she doesn’t eat it, I’m not going to make more than usual.”

“But she’s our reader, you have to make her a portion! Then I can have it.” 

“But if she won’t eat it, I won’t make an extra portion,” Sanji already looked exasperated.

“But I want it!” Luffy was on the verge of a tantrum, you thought.

“No! You already eat all the food! Besides, if she doesn’t eat meat… ” The two of them seemed to be entering into an argument about meat rations, so you’d bow out of this conversation. It was only getting louder as they argued in circles. 

You drank your water and took a look around you for the first time. The ship seemed pleasant, though not very modern. There weren’t any electrical outlets or lights, and not much metal either. It was powered by wind, as you saw the giant sails. Maybe there wasn’t electricity here? You’d ask Robin later. Your eyes wandered up and you saw a giant jolly roger flag, the skeleton wearing a hat.

“So this is a pirate ship, huh?” The fighting made a little more sense now. Not that you wanted to. You’d let them handle that part of the afterlife. It made you a little nervous and you fidgeted with your necklace. A handsome young man wearing overalls and goggles locked eyes with you while holding your hair dryer. The next thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful, long, luscious natural coils you’d ever seen in your life. It took everything in you not to ask him his wash day routine before you exchanged names. “Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him. You were protective of your tools, they were like your babies. The man looked scared for a moment, then apologetic. 

“Sorry, I just got excited. I’ve never seen a machine like this before. What does it do?” He was turning it over in his hands, looking at the barrel. He was holding it like a precious treasure, touching it with care. At least he could appreciate machinery.

“It’s a hairdryer.” Your guess that they didn’t have electricity seemed to have more merit now. Which meant he air dried all that hair every time? Coily King. 

“Interesting! How does it work? Obviously the electricity feeds through the cord, other readers have had corded things before -”

“Usopp! Where’s the new reader? I wanna see if they have pens!” An unbelievably sexy young woman wearing a tiny string bikini came up from below deck, her bright orange hair blowing in the breeze. Was every person on this ship attractive? How did her boobs defy gravity like that? You looked down at your own, hopeful that whatever force was keeping hers up might be helping yours. No dice. 

“Hi, I’m the new reader?” You extended your hand, which she shook. The woman smiled back at you.

“I’m Nami, Robin told me you don’t know anything about our world. So, the way it works here is that everyone pays a daily fee to stay on the boat. It’s 100 Beri a day. That’s how we afford to maintain the ship in tip top condition.” You could smell bullshit a mile away - you’d been working customer service jobs on and off for decades. You decided to play along to see what happened.

“Oh, of course. But how will I get money? I guess I’ll have to sell some of my belongings…” You pursed your lips for dramatic effect. “I know! I have some pens, I could sell those for…what was it you said? 1,000 Beri each?” Nami smiled even wider, a classic mistake. 

“Well, what’s money among friends? And besides, it’s not like you can take anything back with you. We have a lot of reader stuff left on the ship.” You paused, pretending to consider for a moment. 

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe I’ll just drop them all in the sea. Y’know, like a, funeral. Since, I guess mine’s already happening. Maybe.” You didn’t want to think about your funeral, it had been a nightmare to figure everything out when your dad died. You felt bad for whoever was arranging it, probably your sister. You were zoned out thinking for a moment, and snapped back when Nami said something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you ask me?”

“What kind of pens do you have?” Nami had taken the bait, hook line and sinker. You doubled down.

“I’d be willing to show them to you, for a price.” She raised an eyebrow, then broke it with a sincere smile.

“Welcome aboard! I’m the navigator for the crew, it’s nice to meet you. You’ll be staying with me and Robin, I hope you’ll have a fun time with us. Now about those pens…” You smiled at her introduction.

“Thank you, and I’d be glad to show you what I have. I’ve always got at least a couple on me. Where’s my stuff? We can see what’s there.” 

“Follow me, it’s probably in the crows nest. That’s where reader stuff usually appears.” She started walking toward a ladder that led up to a platform high in the sky. High, high in the sky. 

“Hell no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not going up there!” Usopp and Nami looked askance at each other.

“Why not?” asked Usopp, still holding the hair dryer like it was a puppy he was cuddling.

“I’m afraid of heights.” Not that unusual of a fear, you didn’t even like diving off the 3 meter diving board at the pool. They looked at each other again. You felt like you were in middle school again, asking to sit at the cool kids table. 

“That’s OK, I’ll go get it for you.” Usopp handed you the hairdryer and climbed the ladder. Nice, you got to sit with them. Score one for you. 

~~~ 

The last thing you remembered from your regular life was walking home from work, rolling your train case with you. You always took everything home with you, even though you trusted the salon you were working for. Force of habit after so many years. You didn’t remember anything after that, though it would be ironic if you got hit by a car. 

Usopp kindly carried your things down from the crows nest. It was weird seeing your train case and purse on a wooden pirate ship, like when you saw a Timex in a historical movie. You heard a distant crash and looked over. The green haired guy was fighting Sanji, both of them looked pretty angry. The green haired guy was using his three swords against Sanji’s kicking? Must have strong legs. Maybe all the fighting was with each other. Nami and Usopp didn’t even look up.

“Ooh, what’s in here? Treasure? I’ve never seen something like this before. Most readers have backpacks or purses.” Nami was eyeing your train case greedily.

“No, it’s for my haircutting tools, makeup, manicure supplies, things like that.” You’d been an esthetician for a long time, though you’d done other jobs here and there. Nami threaded her fingers together in delight.

“You’re a hairdresser?! And you do nails?! Big sister, you’re the best reader yet! Most of our readers are in eye-tea. Would you cut my hair?” Oh, she meant IT. Information technology. Made sense, lots of people worked in IT. You’d never really gotten all that good at computers, so that wasn’t something you’d ever pursued.

“I mean, yeah, we can talk about that.” Even in the afterlife, everyone wanted a haircut when they found out you were a hairdresser. “Speaking of, Usopp, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” Usopp looked flustered, like he wasn’t used to compliments. That surprised you, he was clearly smart, well muscled, helpful…if you were 20 years younger you’d have been all over him. Or maybe even 10. But he looked like he couldn’t be older than 20 and that really didn’t do it for you. You liked your men with their prefrontal cortex fully developed. Besides, you hadn’t dated for a long time. In fact, aside from Robin, everyone looked really young. You wondered if there were any other older people on board. Even Robin looked like she couldn’t have been older than 35 at the most.

“So, what do you do here?” It seemed like everyone had a specific job on board, might as well find out. 

“Well, I’m the great Captain Usopp, and I am one of the bravest and most notorious pirates on the seas. I’ve defeated -”

“Wait, I thought Luffy was the Captain.” Usopp’s train of thought was paused.

“Oh, he’s the Captain of this crew because I felt bad for him after I single handedly defeated a pirate fleet of 5,000 men. It was easy too, let me tell you the story…” Usopp went off on a long tale about his (obviously fake) adventures on the seas. But he was funny and entertaining and a really good story teller. You touched his arm to pause his story as he was explaining how he defeated a giant with a flaming sword.

“Listen, Usopp, if you ever want, I’ll style your hair for you. Braid out, cornrows, twist out, whatever you want.” You wished you could take a before and after picture for your business Insta, but based on what Robin had told you, your phone hadn’t made it through the…portal? Er, however you got here. You didn’t offer a fade or anything that would have you cut it - it was too gorgeous to cut. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that - I’ve been wanting a new look recently,” Usopp mused. Nami was pouting, you didn’t want to upset her. “Same for you, uh, little sister, I’d gladly style your beautiful orange hair. I’ve never seen a shade like it.” You hadn’t, it was like the shade of an actual orange. Nami was appeased.

“Thank you Big Sis, I’d love to do something with all this.” It looked like she was growing out a bob, and it was in that awkward transition stage. You could help style it a little better, whoever had been cutting it did a good job, just needed a few pointers.

~~~

A little while later and the sun was in its descent. You were still with Usopp, sitting on the deck. Nami had gone off to do some work, saying she’d see you later. He’d told you a few funny stories before he asked to see the electrical esthetician tools you had in your case. He was most interested in the nail drill, asking question after question. At some point, you didn’t have answers for him. You knew the basics of how it worked but your recollection of electron transfer was weak. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Sanji called. Perfect timing, you were getting hungry. Usopp helped you up and you headed to the galley. 

“How many people are on the ship?” you asked. You’d met five of them, not including the green haired man who didn’t introduce himself. 

“There’s ten of us, eleven including you. We’re a small but strong crew.” Usopp flexed his arm.

“By the way, I’m not going to arm wrestle you. I know my strengths, and fighting isn’t one of them.” Usopp looked relieved. “Not that I’d win anyway,” you continued, “you look strong. But I’ll let you handle the fighting.” Usopp smiled at your last statement. You wanted to compliment Usopp when you could, he seemed like he needed it. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve won every arm wrestling competition I’ve ever had. Let me tell you the time when I arm wrestled a giant octopus and won against every tentacle…” You smiled to yourself and walked to the galley together. Entering through the swinging door, you saw a large table filled with nine other people. Well, mostly people. There was also a skeleton, an android looking guy, and a gigantic blue man - merman? And speaking of the merman, holy shit. 

You’d spent time babysitting your nieces and had seen every Disney princess movie that had ever been released in the last 60 years. Their favorites were “Frozen,” and “Moana,” which was the better of the two. You found the polynesian demi-god to be…appealing. At least more than the white bread Cristoff. And that merman looked like Maui had decided to grow a meter and get more muscled. And turn blue. He was huge - maybe 3 meters tall - and you wanted to climb him like a tree. Did that make you a pervert? Maybe, but it was a gut reaction. You weren’t going to act on it. Besides, you weren’t blind, you could appreciate a good looking person when you saw one. He looked like he was around your age, or at least older than the group of younguns you’d met. Maybe the afterlife had its perks after all. 

[pizzagame4000]

NOISETTE THEMED DOODLE DUMP ft. cheesecake and the spouses

copious hazel headcanons under the cut because i can’t help myself

first off: her name is Hazel 👍🏻 ik that’s a common one but it’s literally perfect… canon info to me

her favorite thing to do, besides making experimental food, is actually exercising! she’s an incredibly skilled acrobat and stunt artist, so she needs to be fit for that, but she also just enjoys letting the excess energy out bc she gets really cranky otherwise. she’s toned af and could wipe the floor with you - she doesn’t go around picking fights for no good reason, but if she did… heehee

she has such an unending well of passion for all of her interests that some find her to be too much but she dgaf… she’s unabashedly autistic and does NOT care if you don’t want to hear her infodump about obscure cheeseslime genetics, she will do it anyways

i like to think that, although she is very bubbly, she has an insane morbid streak that catches people off guard. she loves talking about anatomy and gross-out subjects to anyone who can stomach it, and cracks the most fucked up jokes - it’s one of the reasons her and noise get along so well. she is thinking about blood and guts because she thinks it’s interesting!!!! she will give you hyperspecific graphic threats of violence if you make her mad!!! teehee!!

i would put her at like… chaotic neutral but leaning towards good. she has an almost scientific fascination with violence and seeing what kinds of stress a body can take, and doesn’t mind watching shit unfold instead of helping… unless something actually super fucked up is going on (like way past canon typical pizza tower violence), she’s not going to bat for you lol she’s gonna grab a camera and clipboard

her interest in anatomy branches out into a love for biology, medicine and health in general - as much as she loves watching her boyfriend beat the shit out of some chump on live tv, she also loves studying how different creatures work and how to treat injuries. she almost became a doctor! but she didn’t like the rigid schedule and pressure, so she fostered her interest in dance and gymnastics, and went into television as a stunt double instead. that’s actually how she met noise! that’s why they look so much alike - she was told to inquire NTV for a job because of the resemblance. noise thought she was so cool she was asked to be his co-star instead, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.

sometimes she gets tired of the noisette persona, but she does genuinely like theo, so it’s hard. she’s been more busy with this NTV gig (that’s looking more like a full blown career) than she would like, so that’s why she opened her cafe - to do something else for once dammit!! she likes weird shit, food included!!!

i have two shipping scenarios i like, so consider these parallel universes - hazel x vigi, and hazel x vigi x noise

if you don’t like negative takes on the noise relationship i’d recommend skipping to 2 ^_^

1. her relationship with noise deteriorates bc noise can’t accept the fact that hazel doesn’t wanna be noisette all the time! they’re so busy, he barely even makes time for her anymore - he barely even tolerates her! it’s not until vigi comes into the picture that she realizes she doesn’t have to deal w that mess. but it sucks cuz noise isn’t just her bf, but also like!!! a big part of her career!!! and she does genuinely love him but he’s just!!! an uncommunicative ass!!! it culminates in hazel leaving him and crashing at vigi’s farm because fuck it, it’s her life she does what she wants. she will kiss the cheese AND rebuild her tv career, on her own terms this time baybee

2. noise and hazel still have that issue but they actually communicate like adults and fix their relationship problems, so none of that shit happens! happy ending! hazel has her own life and theo actually lets his gf know he loves her! woah! enter vigi, in: “we saw you across the bar and we really dig your vibe…” imagining vigi as a third to hazel and theo, completely out of his depth but too bisexual to care, is SO funny to me lol… like hazel and him are probably the only two together at first but over time he and theo warm up to each other more (gay intent) and it’s perfect