#I’m just happy to see that he seems to have his creative drive back (or is starting to) bc I’ve missed his YT stuff sm

[soloranting]

I never thought I’d see this day happen…

[cultven]

Hi!

I was wondering if you can do a Deadpool x reader x Wolverine fic where reader is like very shy. They find her in the void with the other hero’s from the resistance. They both are immediately smitten but since they both are pretty loud and bickering a lot, it makes the reader nervous. Maybe once they win the fight against Cassandra Nova, the two of them confess to her at Wade’s apartment.

Hope you having a wonderful day/night

No pressure or rush

-W.P 💚

Founded Love

Deadpool X Reader X Wolverine

Content: Some cursing, Deadpool’s humor, Wolverine being so done with Wade lol, Self-conscious Deadpool

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Spoilers for Deadpool 3

a/n: First request done! Hopefully, you like it, I tried following the best I could. The reader may seem a little more timid than shy, however.

You were walking around the ruins of The Void, kicking away the dirt and small rocks that lay in your path. Despite always being on edge, you’ve found yourself at peace with your life in The Void. As long as you stayed away from Cassandra Nova and kept to yourself things were just fine. You had even found a family of your own in The Void, superheroes like yourself who were forgotten with time. It wasn’t the life you had imagined for yourself as a child, but you were happy all things considered. As you stumbled around the woods not looking for anything in particular when your eyes spot a blue minivan in the distance. 

You hum to yourself in confusion, taking in the state of the vehicle. It was battered and bloody, the liquid still visibly fresh. It looked a hell of a lot like Nicepool’s car, another trashed variant that lived in The Void. You hoped it wasn’t his car, he always seemed kind enough, hence his not-so-creative name, and you didn’t want any trouble finding the man. Besides, Nicepool was one of the only other people in The Void besides your family you could comfortably talk to. You have always been the shy type, even back in your everyday life in the real world. Casual conversation didn’t come naturally to you, leading you to feel incredibly awkward most times. You were never fond of most other people anyway, so your reserved nature didn’t bother you. 

As you shuffled closer to Betsy, you remember Nicepool always insisting you call the car by her name, you catch a glimpse of two people. The first was notably tied up in various seatbelts, seemingly asleep. He was another Deadpool variant, thankfully not your befriended one, and was bloodied similar to the car. The second man was a Wolverine variant, something that isn’t usually seen in The Void and was also quite beaten. By the looks of it, they had a pretty hefty fight and weren’t going to join consciousness anytime soon. Making a swift decision on what to do with the newfound characters you sigh and try to start up the car, planning on taking them back to your crew.

Much to your surprise, the car runs quite well considering the damage it’s withheld. The drive back to your hideout was quiet with some soft snoring from the back seat. Some music would have been nice but you didn’t want the pair waking up before you got them to the rest of your family. You could handle the transportation, but the questioning was something better fitted for Elektra or Eric. Eventually, you turn the car and park it next to the house you have been calling home for almost a year now. You debated bringing the two men inside by yourself before quickly realizing there was no way in hell you’d be able to move their large figures. 

“Guys, I’m back.” You quietly announced walking through the door. You saw Remy and Laura sitting at a table playing cards while Elektra was making some sort of food in the kitchen. 

“Hey, glad to see you made it back ok.” Elektra smiled, plating five portions of her cooking. “Did you see Johnny while you were out there?” 

“Nah, unfortunately not. But, I did find some new guys. A Deadpool and a Wolverine.” That caught everyone’s attention, especially Laura’s. You and her were quite close which led her to entrust you with her past, most importantly the bits of Logan. You felt uneasy with all the attention now suddenly on you, but continue your thoughts with fiddling fingers. “They’re, um, in a car unconscious just outside the house. I drove them here. I probably can’t move them inside so…” You let your stream of thoughts trail off, noticing Remy stand up from his space at the table. 

“I’ll go get them, eh?” His accent never failed to amuse you, causing you to smile and nod at the man as he went out the door. Blade soon entered the room and began talking with the others, speculating what the hell was going on with the two men outside. You took this as an opportunity to hide away in your room, allowing yourself to decompress after everything. 

After some rustling outside your room, it eventually quieted, likely meaning the two men were still asleep and the others wanted to give them space. You took this as an opportunity to sneak around to the kitchen, the starvation of not eating all day finally catching up to you. As you tiptoe down the hallway and past the living room you hear an inaudible grumble. Turning your head slightly you see the Wolverine stir. Not realizing you had completely stopped to stare at the man, his narrow eyes met yours with a questioning glance. 

“What the hell are you looking at? Where are we?” His accusatory tone and spew of questions caused you to become flustered. You begin to tap your foot on the floor, a nervous tick you’ve developed over time. 

Realizing you have yet to answer his questions you spoke up, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were awake. Or I guess you just kinda woke up, huh?” You get out an awkward laugh, avoiding eye contact. You hated this with everything in your body. “I, uh, found you guys in that old banged-up car so I called for backup to take you here just to make sure you guys were alright.” When you didn’t get a response you turned back to the Wolverine who was previously throwing questions at you to find him much calmer now. Maybe he finally gauged that you weren’t a threat to him, and even if you were he could easily take you down. You find his eyes scanning your body and finally meet your eyes, causing you to shrink. His frown lines were less prominent than before, adorning a more relaxed expression. 

“Mhm, well thanks for that then.” It wasn’t the kindest thank you in the world, but it was nice he was at least a little grateful for your efforts. As you watched him examine the room you took in his appearance. He adorned the iconic Wolverine suit, the one that Laura insisted her Logan never wore, so it’s likely that this isn’t her Logan, but you figured that much considering ghosts didn’t make it to The Void. He seemed to have a permanent frown on his face, which oddly suited him. There were small tufts of hair on the top of his head, ones that resembled ears. It was cute. Little did you know, when you finally turned away from admiring the man he took his own turn to take you in. You could tell there wasn’t a version of you in his world, but he still felt comforted by your presence in an odd way. Perhaps it was because you saved him and his stupid sidekick. No matter the reason, the gentle look on your face when you hadn’t realized he was awake yet was enough to draw him towards you. 

“What’s your name?” He wanted the conversation to continue and was becoming increasingly interested in you. 

“Y/N. I already know yours, you’re the notorious Wolverine. Also known as Logan.” He seemed shocked you knew his real name, especially by the disregard of how you said it. Noticing his reaction you hastily begin explaining yourself. “Well uh, it’s just Laura told me, if you even know who that is, um I’m not sure if you have her in your universe.” Your speech comes out in an anxious jumble, before deciding just to shut your mouth altogether, wanting to hide away. Wolverine chuckled to himself slightly, finding your skittish behavior quite endearing.  

You felt yourself blushing, wanting to hide from the strong eyes following your figure. Just as you were about to mumble out an excuse to leave the room Logan responded to your earlier ramble, “I’m not sure what all that means bub, but thanks for letting us crash here.” You watched him take in the room, mostly staring at Remy’s impressive stash of alcohol. He stood up from his place and chose a bottle of booze to open and take a swig. You knew Remy wouldn’t appreciate this action, but you were too shy to speak up about it. 

“Yeah, of course.” You rocked back and forth on your feet, something Wolverine took notice of. The whole time you spoke to him he picked up on your small fidgets and mannerisms. Despite finding them precious he didn’t want you to feel so nervous while talking to him, he wasn’t all that scary. Besides, he doesn’t hurt people without reason. “Was that Nicepool’s car you were in?” Before Wolverine had the chance to open his mouth a loud gasp followed by “Thor!” is heard from the bed. Upon seeing the Deadpool variant spring up from his sleeping position you hide yourself half behind the wall. Other than Nicepool all of the other Deadpools you have encountered were aggressive to say the least. But if this one was traveling with the nice Wolverine then maybe he couldn’t be so bad? 

Noticing your caution Wolverine decided to speak up, “Morning, jackass.” 

“Well, good morning to you too, honey bear.” Deadpool took in their surroundings before settling his gaze on you. “I see a beautiful woman has kidnapped us. Not how I was planning for this trip to go, but this could be a pretty hot porn set-up.” You could practically hear the smirk oozing from his speech. Maybe not an aggressive Deadpool, but it didn’t make him any less intimidating. 

You didn’t know what to say, so Wolverine said what you were practically thinking. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. She helped us here and now you’re creeping her out.” He took a swig before slightly positioning himself between you and the Deadpool. 

“I’m not the one with a permanent scowl! You look like the stereotypical villain of every cartoon.” Deadpool stands up before sauntering his way over to you. “What’s your name, pretty little thing.” 

“Y/N.” You managed to squeak out, ready to go lock yourself in your room forever. All of the sudden attention made you increasingly nervous. Deadpool just patted your head and looked over at Wolverine. 

“Dibs on this lovely lady.” He began smushing your cheeks like you were a child. He was quite the character, oddly charming in his weird ways, although you were getting overwhelmed with the physical touch. “I would be okay with sharing with you though Wolvie. Maybe divorced parents' style, I get weekdays and you every other weekend, hm?”

Wolverine growled, “She’s not an object, dipshit.” He pulled Deadpool off of you, clutching the fabric of his suit in his hand. As they begin to argue over you, you feel yourself shrink. Their booming voices and increasingly violent demeanors made you nervous, wanting to flee from the scene as soon as possible. Noticing their attentions were solely on each other you took the chance to sneak out of the room and back into the oasis that is your bedroom. You enjoyed the conversation you had with Logan, but once Deadpool woke up it was clear the two characters didn’t seem to mix well. Once they were caught in each other’s warpath it was like you weren’t even there anymore. 

You heard them eventually quiet, likely realizing you had left the scene a while ago. The arguing also caught the attention of the rest of your roommates, who were all very curious to see what the deal of the two new arrivals was. You opted to stay in your bedroom and listen to some music to help calm you down. As much as you loved your found family, large crowds were still unnerving. As it got later in the night you quickly realized that you couldn’t hide out forever, needing to eat as humans do, so you snuck out of your room. Luckily it seemed everyone had retired for the night early. It was odd considering the new arrivals but maybe they all wore each other out. 

Walking into the kitchen you notice another figure already standing at the toaster, patiently waiting for his food to pop up. “Hey, cutie.” The man in red purred, wiggling his fingers in your direction. 

“Is your whole personality just being a creep?” You half-joked, grabbing a box of cereal. You typically wouldn’t say things like this is strangers, but you could tell that this was certainly Deadpool’s type of humor. He seemed to appreciate the joke as he only giggled at the comment. 

“Maybe.” He said, playfully dragging out the E at the end. You just roll your eyes in return before fixing yourself a bowl of cereal and sitting at the counter, back turned towards him. Realizing that the conversation was over you heard an uncharacteristic sigh from the mercenary. “Sorry for kind of ambushing you there earlier. It’s just fun to watch Wolverine get his panties in a twist. He was sooo flirting with you back there.” It seemed he genuinely felt bad for making you uncomfortable back there, which was sweet. However, his one comment stuck about flirting. There was no way, right?

“I don’t know, it seemed like a normal conversation to me.” You shrugged despite feeling your entire body heat up at the suggestion. 

“Maybe he wasn’t flirting with his words, but he was definitely flirting with his eyes.” Deadpool moved back into your line of vision, waving his hand in front of your eyes. “Just know I’m batting my eyelashes under the mask right now.” You must say, despite the sheer amount of annoyance this man can bring, he is quite funny. 

Giving in to the stupidity you don’t hold back your small laugh, which plainly pleased Deadpool across from you. “Where is Wolverine now anyway?” It was strange to see the two apart seeing as you found them together. 

“He’s talking to your feisty friend out there.” You could tell right away he was referring to Laura. It made sense why they would be talking. You wonder if he had a Laura in his timeline. Suddenly you heard the pop of a toaster and Deadpool’s demeanor pop up. “Oh, fuck yes!” He clapped vigorously before reaching into the toaster and pulling out a freshly made Pop-Tart. 

“Hey! Is that my last Pop-tart?” You question, eyeing the familiar-looking treat. 

“How mad would you be if I said yes?” Deadpool looked at you with fake innocence. 

“Very.”

“Then, no.” He patted your head once more before situating himself across from you, Pop-tart on a plate. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance. It was strange to find yourself so comfortable with the man in such a short amount of time. Admittedly, you felt this way about both of the new arrivals. They were quite friendly, to you at least, and were easy to talk to. You were grateful you stumbled upon them in those woods, and they seemed to feel the same way. 

“Did you hear about the plan for tomorrow?” Deadpool questioned. Your downcasted eyes looked up in confusion. 

“Plan?”

“Yup, we’re gonna rock Cassandra’s shit tomorrow,” Deadpool said with a grin. “Can’t wait to see the look on that egghead’s face when she realizes she got fucked by a Looney Toons squad.” You just shook your head, smiling a bit before noticing the plate still soundly sat in front of the man. 

“Hey, your Poptart is getting cold.”

“Shit! Cold Pop-tarts are the worst.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “I guess I was just too distracted by your beauty to notice, among other things.” He makes motions with his hands around his chest. He’s talking about your boobs, classy. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You just giggled. “Eat you idiot.” Deadpool grinned under his mask before looking down at the plate. He seemed hesitant about something, but you didn’t know what. It was only a Pop-tart, all he had to do was lift his mask and eat it. Speaking of which, you actually can’t recall ever seeing him without his mask. 

“I might actually take this one to go, baby girl. Don’t wanna ruin your appetite.” He motions to his mask before nodding his head and turning to skip out of the room. 

“Hey, wait!” You’ve seen some pretty nasty stuff in The Void, surely it couldn’t be that bad. “Eat here, with me. I’d appreciate the company.” Seeing you want him to stay Deadpool couldn’t just dent you, so he conceded and sat himself back down. Tentative fingers made their way to his mask, pulling it up only slightly. Under you get a glimpse of scar tissue, textured and wrinkled. After taking notice of your lack of reaction he continues slowly, his prominent cheekbones revealed, and then his dark brown eyes. Finally, his mask is completely off, revealing a bald head underneath. You admit it wasn’t what you were expecting, but it wasn’t horrible in the slightest. 

“You grossed out yet?” He asked with a forced-sounding laugh. His appearance was clearly a sore subject for him. 

“Not at all.” You smiled at him. “You made it seem like your face was going to be melting off or something.”

“Eh, it kinda is.” By the tone of his voice, you assumed you put the man in much better spirits.

“Well, I still think you look quite charming.” Surprise painted Deadpool’s face, and then a face of appreciation. Not many people thought he was good-looking with his deformation, he constantly got berated for it, joking and not. He ended up using his humor to seal the pain, it was a nice break to have someone see him other than his skin. “Besides, I know it’s not the same but I had like major acne as a teen, so my skin was basically as bad as yours.” 

“Probably worse if I had to guess, them hormones be crazy girl.” Deadpool had a wide smile before biting into the, now freezing cold, Pop-tart. Gross. You two sat and talked, picking away at your respective meals before Deadpool, who you learned was named Wade, suggested you both head to bed. Claiming you need your energy for tomorrow because he’d hate to see you skinned and popped like a bloody zit, his words, not yours. 

He already ran off somewhere when you were taking the trash out. As you hauled the giant trash bag behind you, a person grazed your shoulder. “You know tomorrow is a suicide mission, right?” The gruff voice from earlier, Wolverine. He sounded concerned. 

“We’ve been her prisoners for so long, it’s about time we did something for ourselves.” Wolverine seemed to accept your answer with a curt nod, turning away so you couldn’t see the worry etched in his face. 

“Just be careful, bub.” That was all he said before walking inside, leaving the door slightly open for you once you’re done. 

To put it bluntly, the mission was a success. Logan did end up assisting you and your family in effectively taking down Cassandra. This was not surprising to you, despite his rough demeanor you could tell he’s a caring person on the inside, he just doesn’t know how to verbalize it well. What you didn’t expect, however, was to be pulled into the portal with Logan and Wade, transporting you back to Wade’s dimension. This was where you took down Cassandra for good this time, watching Wade and Logan heroically sacrifice themselves for Wade’s loved ones. It was heartwarmingly sweet and incredibly anxiety-inducing. But you all made it, not without a few scratches but regeneration came in clutch. What you were most grateful for was learning the rest of your family got to return to their timelines, something you had all longed for for so long. 

After the chaos, you and Logan figured you had nothing in your old worlds and decided to stay in Wade’s timeline. He graciously offered you a place in his apartment and, after sleeping on a not-so-comfortable couch for months, you finally saved enough money to rent your own apartment which was conveniently next door. This meant the three of you hung out all the time, whether it was an ambush hang-out or a planned movie night. Wade’s family became yours and you were happy.   

“Wade! Don’t burn the popcorn this time!” You yelled from across the room, feeling entirely comfortable in the company of your peers. 

“Please. I can’t handle the burnt smell any longer. It’s a miracle you haven’t burned this place to the ground yet.” Logan grumbled, resting his arm around you. 

“I’m wounded, you guys think I’m that horrible at making such a simple dish.” As if on cue, smoke begins to ooze out of the microwave. “No! Not towards the smoke alarm not again!” He rushed over, hastily fishing the bag out, and dropped it as it burnt his hand. Quickly putting it in a bowl he hops over the back of the couch you settle on your other side, offering the bowl to Logan. 

“I’m not eating your fucking popcorn ash.” Logan mumbles, still looking for a suitable movie. 

“More for me and cutie over here then.” Wade smiles, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth and instantly regretting it, resisting the urge to spit out the popcorn. “Mhm, delicious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” Logan berates as you just giggle. After much bickering, mostly between Logan and Wade, you finally settle on a movie, The Proposal. Halfway through Wade unexpectedly turns in your direction. 

“You know, I’m really happy you found us gutted in that shitty excuse for a car.” It was sweet, in Wade’s own way. 

“Me too, bub,” Logan says, squeezing your shoulder where his arm still rests around you. You look between the both of them and smile brightly. 

“I’m the happiest, I got to meet you guys. You really broke me out of my shell, you know that?” You squeezed Wade’s hand while patting Logan’s thigh. You truly were grateful for them, the other group may have been your family but these two felt different, even closer in a way. “I don’t think I ever want to leave.” 

“We’re glad,” Wade says sweetly before frantically shushing both you and Logan as his favorite part of the movie begins your play. The rest of the night is spent in comfortable silence, much to your surprise with Wade, as the three of you cuddle closely on the couch, thanking the universe for connecting you. 

[bloomeng]

I know MXTX is a good author I want to get that out of the way before I get into this. She’s a fantastic (male) character writer and she has a great grasp on interpersonal connections. Though she’s working in an established niche genre she’s still very creative, I think SV especially is evidence of that. But there’s one thing that I just can never seem to get a pulse on, and that’s how much she means to comment on classism.

Author’s intent is always gonna be tricky especially when I have to rely on translated texts and interviews. There’s probably a lot of nuance that I miss, not to mention literally interviews I’ve never seen etc. It also doesn’t help that I haven’t read most of TGCF yet, so I can’t comment on that series, and with SV this conversation is less applicable, so for the sake of what I know best I’m gonna be using MDZS as my main example.

Classism is undeniably at the heart of MDZS’s themes, however for years anytime I analysis the text I’m usually fairly cautious to note that I don’t know if this was intentional. This isn’t because I think MXTX is stupid or can’t handle deep conversations, it’s simply because I can’t tell if it was her intent. On paper it seems obvious; WWX, JGY and XY’s wealth disparities, how privilege drives the plot, literally everything about the Wens as a whole. So much of the novel’s runtime is spent showing us how corrupt the feudal system can be, going so far as to have a protagonist who dies for the cause and two antagonists who are driven to be awful because of their poor circumstances in life. It feels intentional that WWX was granted a certain amount of privilege based on something he was born with (his parents connections) and how easily people turned on him. Sure he does unethical things but if not for his status it’s likely he wouldn’t have had to do half the things he ends up doing, not to mention that plenty of people didn’t like before the demonic cultivation started. JGY acting as a foil for WWX feels intentional and I would absolutely consider them foils regardless of intent. With all this in mind I would be inclined to say that yeah, MDZS is commenting on classism, but then WWX marries into the corrupt system and we the audience are supposed to read this as a good thing.

This has always been my biggest qualm with the book. We spend so much time showing how awful this system is and the two people who do anything to try and save it are punished for it by death. Sure WWX is brought back but as soon as he’s in Mo’s body he’s aimless. JGY is of course the secondary villain of the series, but MXTX goes out of her way to make us understand that even when JGY had power, his birth kept him from actually holding any real control, and what control he did have he mostly used to get bad people out of power and make the community better (he was biased and paranoid and vengeful but MXTX’s characters are nothing if not nuanced). Why set all this up to end up in such a contradictory place?

I get that solving such big issues such as classism isn’t easy and we want a happy ending but does MDZS even have a happy ending? None of the mc’s besides LWJ and (supposedly) WWX and LSH and LJY are in good positions by the end of the story. I remember reading MDZS for the first time and thinking that LWJ would fall for WWX because of his radical ideas and eventually see that the Lans were contributing big time to this awful system that favors wealth over everything. Especially because we have a second plot line about whatever was going on with LXC and JGY. And then it just never happens. Instead the Lan sect are painted as ok just because they’re monks. The system wasn’t the issue actually it was the people in charge but don’t worry they’re gone. Life is great now that the most powerful sects are in the hands of a 15 yr old, a man with unchecked anger issues, a council of elders that think corporal punishment is the solution to everything and a man who committed to a life long bit to get out of all forms of responsibility. What could go wrong?

I’ve always thought it was strange and ooc that WWX just accepts going back to Cloud Recesses. His literal incense burner fantasy was a cottage in the woods away from society. He never really warms up to the rigidity or their bland ass food, and he doesn’t even really respect the Lans culture more than he has to. It’s clear he only lives there for his husband and son’s sake. So why am I to believe this is his fairy tale ending?

The only answer I’ve been able to grasp over the years is that the romance genre of the novel overpowers everything else.

This is what brings me back to my original point. I don’t know if MXTX’s intended to comment on class, because if she did I struggle to understand how the ending of the story fits this intention. Which means by default it wasn’t the intention, at least not the priority. I mean ok duh, obvious conclusion, this is a danmei, it’s the bl genre, of course the romance comes first, but that’s not exactly what I’m getting at. You can absolutely have a romance that comments on other things at the same time and I think MXTX’s writing is smart enough to do this, except it fumbled so hard at the end it left me questioning if she even meant to comment on classism in the first place.

A part of me thinks that all of this commentary was just a coincidence of the genre conventions. Cultivator/ historical fantasy tends to just have classism baked into setting, so maybe that’s all it was. Perhaps she was just borrowing what was already there to make interesting character motivations and it wasn’t done with any intention of commenting on any sort of greater societal issue. Which for the record would be ok. I’m not policing what MXTX should write and romance for the sake of romance is perfectly valid, but as a reader I’m allowed to say this particular instant made me dislike the actual romance she set up. These issues in the book made me actively dislike LWJ. I’m on an island about that though. Getting back to my point, I struggle to call this commentary intentional and thus things like WWX and JGY suddenly feel unintentional as well.

I also find MXTX’s own words to be contradictory at times. For instance, she’s mentioned that after SV she found writing more than one couple to be too taxing. When asked if other characters in MDZS were gay she said explicitly they were not, yet both MDZS and TGCF have unofficial side couples that are an inch away from being canon. She’s also mentioned that XY, Sl, and XXC were old characters of hers and were originally going to be the focus of the book, which leads me to believe that they would’ve been a canon love triangle. So I am skeptical when she said all the characters besides WWX and LWJ are straight. I’m not accusing her of lying or anything like that. Tolkien contradicted himself so many times in his letters and essays, it’s sort of par for the course in my opinion. What it does mean though is that I can’t get a read on her intentions. What I can gather from what she tends to focus on in her extras, interviews, and just the fact that this is the BL genre, I’m inclined to believe that a lot of these parallels are unintentional but then I circle back to just how heavy handed it all is and I’m unsure again.

Anyway this was just the world’s longest way to say that actually we don’t have any idea what her intentions are and this is why when I’m analyzing her work I make a point to not put words in her mouth.

[wonbriiize]

wonbin‘s birth chart

(sun, moon, mercury, venus, mars)

note; nothing too serious, i’m not saying wonbin is actually like this, it’s all just for shits and giggles !! also, i’m not an astrologer or anything, i used to read about astrology a few years ago so i’m not that much in touch with it anymore. take this with a grain of salt !!

sun in pisces ♓︎

… the sun sign basically stands for your identity. it shows what sign has the most influence on you when it comes to experiencing your life and who you are as a person. people who have a sun in pisces are usually very intuitive, imaginative, compassionate and emotional. they are also known to be very talented artistically, which we know wonbin is. he may not show his emotional side a lot, but he seems to be very transparent about his feelings. whenever he feels bad he lets us know, whenever he feels like crying he says it out loud — he doesn’t actually cry but he shares how he wanted to — and whenever he’s happy you can see it. pisces are also big on comfort, so wonbin doesn’t necessary like change and would like to keep things the way he’s used to them. also, wonbin‘s sun in pisces is in the 10th house and this indicates that he is literally meant to be famous. he is meant to be an inspiration for a lot of people.

moon in libra ♎︎︎

… the moon is basically your subconsciousness, it’s who you are when no one is around. it is about how you feel and just the driving force behind your emotional reactions. people who have a libra moon tend to be very flirty, open-minded, diplomatic and well balanced. they look at situations from an objective pov, they want to get to know all the sides before choosing one (if they ever choose at all because libra placements are also very indecisive). they don’t like conflict or disharmony in their life so they try to avoid it as much as possible. wonbin has his moon in the 5th house which means that he’s trusting but still conscious, and safety is very important for him.

mercury in aquarius ♒︎

… the mercury placement is all about communication (expressing yourself etc.), how you learn and process information. wonbin’s mercury is in aquarius which indicates that he’s a very smart person, his way of thinking is kinda out of the box? and sometimes it’s hard for him to feel understood because of that. mercury aquarius people are also very observant and don’t hold back with their thoughts – they’re blunt. wonbin‘s mercury is in the 9th house which means that he might be interested in philosophy or other areas that include stimulating his knowledge. because aquarius placements are rather ‘uncomfortable’ talking about their feelings, they tend to avoid it, which makes it hard for them to express themselves when they actually have to (a lot of times they don’t even know how to express what they’re feeling).

venus in pisces ♓︎

… the venus sign is all about your aesthetic, how you love and want to be loved. wonbin having his venus in pisces indicates that he’s a very romantic and dreamy person when it comes to love. he yearns for a deep, sensual and a ‘soulmate-ish’ relationship. pisces placements are all known to be flirty and they sometimes just do it unconsciously, making a lot of people fall for them without even wanting to. venus pisces people have unconditional and non-judgmental love for their significant other. sometimes though, they are too blinded by the love, which makes them overlook the flaws or negative aspects of the relationship and it can end up being toxic for them. also, people often say that pisces placements have a ‘savior complex’ — they want someone who’s broken because they believe they can fix them (of course this isn’t always the case). venus pisces people are also escapists, they would rather live in their own world than face reality. they’re also very creative people, especially when their venus is in the 10th house (which is the case for wonbin).

mars in taurus ♉︎

… the mars sign is all about our desires, will, sensuality and how we react when we are facing an obstacle. wonbin has his mars sign in taurus which indicates that he is determined, steady and goal-oriented. he knows what he wants and he will work hard to accomplish it. these people also need stability and security in life, they aren’t very good with changes. generally though, they’re calm and easy-going (which we know wonbin is). it takes a lot for them to get angry. taurus mars people also tend to be jealous, not too extremely, but still, they can be kind of possessive. they’re sensual lovers, it’s all about passion and a meaningful build-up for them.. also when it comes to making love. taurus placements are usually known for being lazy, but that doesn’t mean they don’t work for what they want. they may do it slowly, yet steadily. as mentioned, wonbin is someone who knows what he wants and he will accomplish it, doesn’t matter if it’s going to take a long time, at the end of the day he will arrive at his goal (him being a trainee for like 4 years is an example for that).

summary

overall i can say; wonbin is someone who emphasizes security, comfort and stability in life a lot. he wants to feel safe and assured that everything is going according to plan. if something unexpected happens, it can throw him offguard. if he has to face big changes, he will do it but it’s going to take him a lot of courage. according to his placements, wonbin is also a very deep person; whether it comes to loving someone or his own emotions. he seeks to build meaningful relationships in his life, not just romantically but also platonically. even though his pisces venus indicates that he’s a dreamy person who may overlook his partners flaws, his other placements contradict it (especially his mercury aquarius and mars taurus) – he’s actually very selfaware and realistic. he doesn’t get angry easily, but jealousy might be a thing. wonbin is also very straightforward and says what’s on his mind but when it comes to expressing his own feelings, he kind of struggles with it. it’s like he can’t find the right words to do so, which frustrates him, but he will keep on trying. he’s incredibly talented when it comes to arts and he’s meant to pursue it, to build a career in this area so he can connect to a lot of people and inspire them.. which is exactly what he is doing.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 3)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (3)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Jordan had a big smile on her face when she saw YFN. She pulled over at the front of her hotel and put the window down.

“Allo mate, need a lift?”

“I don’t have any money, sorry.”

Jordan opened her mouth in an amused and fake offended ‘O’. “You’re takin’ the mick.”

YFN laughed and slid into the passenger seat. “Do you charge by the hour or…?”

Jordan laughed loudly and slapped her arm. “Too expensive for you, mate.”

She began driving. YFN loved seeing this side of Jordan. The side that seemed much more natural, and much more of the Jordan that Lucy was describing last night.

“Wherrrrrre are we going?”

“I was thinking coffee and then shopping? Also, I’m assuming you don’t have any football gear to wear to the game tomorrow?”

“Hm, you are correct there.”

“Oh, Lucy is going to love seeing you in a Bronze jersey.”

YFN blushed and looked over, surprised.

“What? She loves seeing people in her jersey. Plus, you don’t know anybody else on the team, do you?”

“That’s a negative, and what number is she?”

“2.”

“Oh, my favourite. Okay, let’s get a Bronze jersey. Should we get the home or away kit?”

Jordan laughed. “Wow, look at you! Someone’s been doing their research!”

YFN grinned. “I love blue but the internet says something about it being a bad luck kit…?”

“Oh poppycock. Blue would be perfect with your eyes.”

YFN laughed. “Oh, and I also want an Australian flag.”

Although they only planned on a few hours, the two spent all day together. The atmosphere was great, they both bantered like they’d known each other for years. They wandered around town with iced drinks, stopped for breakfast, then lunch, and Jordan even taught her how to kick a soccer ball on an empty pitch, as well as teaching her some rules. YFN did try to incorporate some tackles to which Jordan gave her red cards for. They collected some free merchandise for the game from people in the club who Jordan knew and managed to find an Australian flag also. The day was fantastic, and of course they ended it on the beach with some fish and chips, Jordan making YFN try it with curry sauce. It confused the hell out of her, but she admitted it was decent.

The next day Jordan picked up YFN again early and they went for lunch. They had decided the day before that they wanted to catch up earlier before they headed to the game. At lunch, Jordan asked YFN about her job and what she did. She was a writer and loved to write fantasy. She’d been working for a newspaper before she left and had a very popular daily column with a lot of fans, but she left because she lost her passion for it. And so, she decided to travel to gain inspiration and get back into writing fantasy with the hope of publishing and travelling the world. Jordan was wowed by this and admitted to wishing she had the creativity for it. About five minutes later though, it seemed she had completely forgotten the conversation though, and had to ask again. YFN laughed, this had happened a few times with her the day before and so she lovingly gave Jordan the nickname ‘Dory’.

The seats for the game were in the perfect spot, just adjacent to where the team benches were. The two were dressed up, laughing at their awkwardness as they made their way down to their seats with arms of popcorn, hotdogs, and drinks. They reached their seats and were greeted by a loud man and his adorable family. YFN didn’t need a degree to figure out who it was. Jordan introduced him as Jorge Bronze, Lucy’s big brother, and his family. He gave Jordan a hug and kiss, and she picked up the kids and gave them kisses also. Jorge dragged YFN into a strong hug they took their seats next to them. It felt like a huge family affair and made YFNs heart swell with happiness. Her family life was not so joyful, and so this was a happy change. A few other friends came over to say hi to Jordan and she introduced them to YFN. They were friends, other football players, or partners of friends.

Shortly before the game, the teams ran out onto the field to warm up. The crowd seemed to yell extra loudly as Lucy came out onto the field, Jorge was the loudest of all. One kid in his arm and a drink in the other, he yelled at the top of his lungs “LUCYLUCY. LUCYLUCY.” Many people were yelling it like a chant, and Jorge recorded it for his social media. YFN couldn’t keep her eyes off of Lucy. She oozed confidence. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun, and she looked a bit different without her glasses, but a good different. YFN bit her lip, thinking her football gear was a welcome sight. She couldn’t help but see the muscles through her clothes, particularly the thigh muscles when she walked. Lucy jogged around without a care, chewing gum and laughing with her teammates. At one point in time, she even sat on a football and just watched as the others warmed up.

“Hey Dory, what’s she doing?” YFN asked Jordan.

Jordan leaned into YFN to yell over the crowd. “Who? Lucy? Oh, her knee is really bad. Like really, really bad. She’s had a lot of surgeries and she’s always in pain. She just tries to keep off it before and after games really.”

As if Lucy had heard them, she looked up and caught sight of her group. Her eyes wandered along her family who were crazily waving until she reached Jordan and YFN. She grinned when she saw YFN wearing her jersey with that little dimpled smile on her face. It suited her, she thought. Being in the crowd with her family and friends, wearing a Bronze jersey, and holding an Australian flag with pride. She and Jordan had painted the flag on their cheeks also, fully supporting their friend. Lucy wanted nothing more than to walk over and talk to them, but she knew she was supposed to be warming up. She settled for a big childish wave and re-joined her team.

Ten minutes later they left the field, Lucy waving at her section and grinning from ear to ear as she left. Soon enough after, the crowd roared as the teams entered the stadium, holding hands with their mascots. Lucy was last in line, swinging arms with her little mascot. They stood for the national anthems and after a quick team photo, the game was underway. YFN couldn’t tell if she was just biased, but it was pretty obvious to her that Lucy was the most intelligent on the field. When she didn’t see an opening she liked, she passed the ball back to the defender next to her who Jordan said was “Millie Bright – acting Captain.” She pushed up the field hard during the first half of the game, and very nearly scoring on several occasions.

“Wow, Lucy is ON FIRE today! LUCYLUCY!” Jorge shouted. “THAT’S MY SISTER!”

“I haven’t seen her play this good is a while!” Jordan shouted in YFN’s ear.

A long shot came towards the goal and Lucy was sprinting from nowhere, her speed was incredible. She leapt, heading the ball and the goalkeeper tipped it. The ball hit the crossbar and bounced back into play. One of Lucy’s teammates were in the perfect position for the rebound and struck the ball, side-netting it. The crowd groaned loudly.

“COME ON LESS!” Jordan yelled encouragingly.

“COME ON RUSSO! WHY IS LUCY OUR BEST STRIKER!” A yell came from behind them in the crowd.

YFN was confused. Jordan saw her confusion. “Lucy is a defender, not a striker. Not even a midfielder. She shouldn’t be the most dangerous striker for us today but she’s just playing so well. The other girls aren’t doing well enough to be honest.”

That made sense to her. Lucy was compensating for her team. All of her discussions with Jordan the day before about Lucy being overly competitive and not liking to lose were becoming more obvious. YFN loved it and joined in on the shouting for England’s number 2.

The whistle blew to signal half time and the scores were still 0-0. During the break the pair took Lucy’s niece and nephew up to the bathroom and brought back more snacks for the Bronze family. They settled back down when YFN noticed that Jordan was tense and uncomfortably shifting.

“What’s the matter?” YFN asked.

Jordan leant over to talk in her ear, not loud enough that anyone else would hear it. “My ex is here. A few rows behind us. She waved at me.”

YFN pulled back with wide, worried eyes. “Oh Jordan, are you okay?”

“I don’t know. We’re still friends and I think she’s a lovely person, but I just feel so uncomfortable right now. She going to want to try and speak to me after this.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“She going to try and speak to me like everything’s normal when it’s not. I don’t think I have the capacity.”

YFN put her arm around Jordan and pulled her close. “You need to tell her that you need space. Because right now, even though you’re replying the bare minimum to her, it’s still coming across like you’re okay to casually chat to her when you know you need your space to heal.”

“You’re right.” She groaned. “I just don’t want to come across nasty at all. She’s such a good person.”

“Protect yourself first. Heal a bit. And only then can you try to have normal conversations with her, hm?”

The teams came back out then, and the second half began. Jordan’s mood picked up as she was lost again in the screaming, but unlike YFN, she was yelling their names.

Lucy played even better the second half, giving so many chances to her teammates to score. She went down, hard at one point, literally tumbling over like a gymnast and the crowd seemed to think this was normal.

“NEVER A GOOD GAME UNLESS LUCY IS FLYING!”

“LUCIA!”

“LUCYLUCY!”

“BRONZEYYYYY!”

She got back up and jogged back over to her spot a bit stiffly. YFN was in awe of her resilience. Eventually the 90 minutes were up and they were given +2 minutes. Just when all seemed like it was about to be over, Lucy scored. And it was beautiful. Just like last time she came sprinting from absolutely nowhere however this time she volleyed the ball into the net, hard. So hard the net must have broken. The stadium erupted, they all leapt to their feet screaming at the top of their lungs. Jordan and YFN grabbed each other, jumping up and down. Popcorn flew all around. Lucy was bombarded by her teammates leaping onto her. Looking up at the big screen, YFN could better see the massive grin spread across her face. Of course she scored.

“GOAL FOR ENGLAND NUMBER 2, LUCY BRONZE!”

The stadium erupted again.

Play resumed for the last 20 seconds, and the whistle ended the match to a stadium still cheering for Lucy.

Jorge was again filming on his phone, kid in one arm and phone in the other. “AW TOO BAD SO SAD.” He cackled as he filmed the other team. YFN laughed at the absurdity of it. She looked around at the packed stadium. It was all insane.

“AND YOUR PLAYER OF THE MATCH IS… LUCY BRONZE!”

Lucy received even more yelling and applauses. She shook hands with both teams and then was dragged into an interview on the pitch while her teammates signed autographs and gave out some of their match worn gear to the crowd. When Lucy finished the interview, she immediately hobbled over to her section and jumped up to lean over the barriers. Jorge and her family got to her first and pulled her into big hugs and kisses. They took some selfies and then Lucy moved over to grab Jordan into an all-encompassing hug.

“I’m so proud of you.” Jordan cried, tears welling. Lucy grinned and pulled back, looking at YFN and opening her arms cheekily. YFN laughed and wrapped her arms around her in a tight, warm hug. Of course, Lucy’s hugs were amazing.

“I’m sorry, I probably don’t smell the best right now.”

“You smell like success to me.” YFN kept holding tight for as long as Lucy was, though Lucy was doing the same. They both gave up eventually so as to not give any wrong impressions to photographers or the crowd around them.

“Nice jersey. Would you like me to sign it?”

“Depends, how much would it be worth?”

Lucy rolled her eyes and took a sharpie from her brother. She shifted YFN’s hair back gently to sign her jersey over her collarbone. She couldn’t help but notice YFNs perfume. The same perfume that was on her hoody when she had given it back a few days before. A shiver went up her spine as she tried to focus on writing neatly.

“Mine too please!” Jordan quipped. Lucy signed her jersey also.

“Oh, and this please!” YFN held up her Australian flag. Lucy grinned, rolling her eyes again and signed her flag. YFN couldn’t help but stare at her, the big grin taking over her face, her hair curling at the sides where she’d been sweating, and those big green eyes. They locked eyes for a moment but both broke contact almost immediately as it affected them both so intensely. No way would they be able to keep it normal in front of so many people. They felt each other shiver and saw each other smile. Nobody seemed to notice.

“I hear there’s a dinner party tonight!” Jorge almost yelled.

“Ohhhh yeah. Family and friends. I told them you’d all be there. You’re all coming, right?” She looked at Jordan a little worried, presumably because her ex would be there.

Jordan looked at YFN. “Stuff it. Yeah, we’ll be there.”

[grapejuicestyless]

i’m rlly sad summers gone but like I have a winter request for conrad so we good !!

fem reader (conklinnn ofc) and conrad used to date but then had a messy breakup so now everyone is in college and yn doesn’t have anywhere to go because everyone is off doing something for winter break so she takes stevens car and drives down to the summer house and conrad shows up a day later and she’s freaking out. They both stay there the whole week and romantic feelings and nostalgia builds up again 🤌🏻

you can add some of your own stuff too because your soooo creative and your work is golden!! thank you:)

Peace.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Angst to fluff!

Summery: After a hard loss, both in a relationship and with the severing of the ties of her past, Y/n must learn to let go in order to gain what she so desperate wants back.

Snowfall is always overlooked. People see it as more of an inconvenience than as a gift. Each little white flake falling from the sky seems like nothing more than a mushy ball of frozen water made to block the roads and keep kids out of school, but the closer you look the more complex they are.

What was once so horrible becomes something beautiful, something unique. There is no other thing like it, each flake is different even by one branch in the pattern. It’s sad how many people are so quick to dismiss it and pout out their windows. White was never their favorite color and the cold was never their favorite temperature.

At this time of year, I usually considered myself lucky. I had a family who cherished each snowfall and a mother who would have hot-coco ready on the table for when our red cheeks and icy hair would become too much and we would finally come back inside to melt and warm up again. Each winter break my younger siblings, Steven and Belly would be attached at my hip. Having an older sister who only grew more and more, our time together always felt limited. So we spent each day in the living room. Playing the Wii with Steven and Barbies with Belly. I would read with my mom and cook with my dad. It was all so perfect. My favorite time of the year.

I used to joke with Conrad that college didn’t hold the same amount of excitement around the season because people were just as bitter and cold all year round. I called him cold hearted too because he thought it was funny. He laughed and kissed me then. I wonder if he would laugh now. Even if we no longer shared a stocking and cozied up by the fireplace impossibly close declaring our quiet loves for each other. I wonder if he still thinks fondly of the winter like I do now that it’s tainted with old memories of us.

Usually, during the winter I would drive down to Boston. It took some convincing for Laurel to allow her daughter to drive so far in such intense weather, but she knew where my heart belonged. It was the holidays and she was just as jolly as the rest of us, so she would always agree. There, I would bring gifts for all the Fishers. I didn’t have enough money to afford gifts and college, so everything was homemade. Every year I would apologize, but Susannah and Conrad always claimed to love it. Jeremiah wouldn’t say anything, but the smile on his face was always genuinely happy, so I think he liked them just as much.

Conrad would take my mitten clad hands after. Even covered in thick wool he managed to clasp his hands fully around mine, eager to get me alone. We’d slip away into his room, my cheeks red and eyelashes covered in snowflakes and his eyes wide and smile full. Behind closed doors, we could be as affectionate as we wanted without gags of jealousy disguised as disgust from Jeremiah or swooning from Susannah over how cozy we looked.

I remember how I believed my hips were made with dips so his hands could fit perfectly in them. How his arm rested on my waist so tight, I didn’t need a blanket because he kept me warm. No fireplace or layers of coats could light the flames in my heart and keep me warm in the coldest winters like Conrad could.

He said summer was his favorite season when he met me, but now he favored winter because it reminded him of me. I asked what would happen if something were to happen to us, just to tease him then. He got serious, I still remember the look on his face when he told me I would always be his favorite thing. How winter would forever remind him of me and no matter what, nothing could change that fact.

It was our own little secret oasis. A utopia of our own confined within the four walls of his childhood bedroom. When it snowed, we’d play in the snow like children and when it stormed we’d make forts to watch our favorite winter movies. It was a dream I never wanted to end, I was foolish to think it wouldn’t.

By spring, it felt like he was tired of me, of who I was. No amount of effort could keep Conrad beside me. I became someone he wasted his time on rather than someone he begged to be around. My skin was like fire to his touch, his eyes avoidant. It all came to a head when I broke down in late May.

“Why, why am I not enough?” I begged him then, I wanted to know what my problem was. Why I couldn’t be more than what I was now. Why we couldn’t go back.

He shrugged his shoulders, looking past my left shoulder. He looked distant. He knew it just as well as I did, we were walking on eggshells.

“Because you’re just not.” His words were bitter, knives stabbing me through the heart and ripping out. There was no reason, he didn’t even try to make the gashes in my heart better.

“Bullshit. I do everything for you! I give you everything!” It came out more as a question than a statement. I wasn’t as sure about what I once believed so firmly now that Conrad was showing how he felt.

“I guess it wasn’t enough then.” His eyes were watering. We were already talking in the past tense, we were over. He didn’t have to say it, neither did I. It was as clear as the freckles on his face, there was no amount of mending that could pull us back together.

In my mind I could only remember those final words we spoke to each other. The first hour of our long argument was washed from my mind for my own sake. What should’ve been tattooed permanently in my brain was gone the second we were over. Maybe if I could remember it fully, each insult and every word he used to put me down and make me feel small, I would’ve been able to feel justified in my anger. I could talk shit with my friends, shit on him to my mother. But even in my heartache, I couldn’t find reasons to be mad at him.

Conrad always went through so much on his own. It would be selfish of me to believe that he was completely okay when things ended. It was messy and sudden the way it happened. He was the biggest dick to me, but I couldn’t blame him for what he did. Not then, not now. Part of me still loved him. Part of me would still die for him in secret. He was my first love, all I knew when it came to my feelings. I let him rule my heart, my decisions. I didn’t show up to Cousins that summer.

Now that it was over, no ties binding us together, no overbearing reason to drive down to Boston for the weeks leading up to the holidays where we’d all finally be together again, I have no where to go. Steven was old enough to be on his own now, a freshman at Princeton. One of his rich friends had dropped by within the first twenty four hours to drag him off to his families vacation home. I hadn’t even set up the Wii yet. Belly, my littlest sibling who I adored more than anyone else I knew was more distant than Steven. The stress of deciding between Finch and Jeremiah or some state school with the guarantee of being on volleyball was eating her alive. Back then, I would’ve told her not to lose sight of her dreams and life because of some boy, but here I was doing the same thing. I stayed quiet and let her decide what she wanted.

My mom was gone just like Steven. Away to talk about her book with other critically acclaimed writers and producers. My dad was out of the picture. He wouldn’t be back until Christmas morning. He was never really present after the divorce, but he’s a good man and he tries his best. He just works a lot. It hurts to not be able to enjoy the holidays like I used to, but I can respect why everyone’s away.

Somehow, I end up in Stevens drivers seat. I’ve never had a car of my own. While Steven spent weeks searching the internet for a cheep car, I spent my time studying for finals and applying to colleges. I never had the time. He gave me his keys before he left. He said I could take his car anywhere I wanted as long as I didn’t ruin it. Each dent in it, I would owe him ten bucks. It wasn’t much, but to a struggling college student, ten dollars in my bank account might as well have been him asking for hundreds.

“Belly, I’m heading out. Call me if you need me, okay? I might not be back for awhile.” The words I chose were ominous. I didn’t tell her where I was going, why I was going or how long I’d be exactly, but she didn’t care enough to ask. So I climbed into Stevens car and let my playlist shuffle. I imagine myself in the situations my favorite artists write about and sing along like I can relate to their upper class parties and juvenile activities. It keeps my mind off of where I’m going.

It’s not like I got in the car set on heading to the one place that once swore to never step foot near again, but when I recognize the signs on the highway pointing me in the same direction, I’m suddenly set on it.

The sting of the breakup lingered like a tattooed kiss, a reminder of something so special that was now gone. I wouldn’t let him ruin the place that was once so special to our families.

Pulling up to that driveway, I remember how the weeds would grow over the gravel by July and how Steven and Jeremiah would stay out for hours plucking at them to make Susannah happy. How the grass held the imprints of our small bodies rolling around the hills and daffodils. The sand was forever glued into the fabric of our favorite t-shirts and the salt air is what we smelled of until December washed it away.

We were always so close here. Despite the rifts and the problems that happened between us. Not blow out fight or silent treatment could ever separate the Conklin’s and the Fishers from each other for long.

I looked back on how I felt at home. How together was something that I never even questioned. Steven would be by the fireplace yelling at the television and Belly would be begging him to quiet down. Laurel would be curled up in the corner scribbling things into a notepad and dad would try to sneakily move the elf on the shelf.

We were older now. The wii wasn’t all that special and Belly longed for the chaos she once hated. Steven preferred his friends and mom and dad fell out of love so mom could learn to love her work more.

I pulled into the large house through the garage. I knew the code by heart, it was my phone passcode. I figured that if I wanted to stay attached to homeliness so badly I could be where I learned what love was the best.

In my head, even now I always believed that no matter how long it would go untouched, the summer home would always be bright and warm. Smelling of Susannah’s candles and Belly’s sticky iced teas.

Stepping through the front door, it was dark and cold. My breath was less visible than in the outside, but the light and heat didn’t bounce from wall to wall like it always did.

It took me a few minutes to find the correct switch to turn up the heat. I cranked it until my socks burned on my feet and a sweat covered the top of my forehead. It was comfortable, I could sink into my own chunky sweater.

It was my mothers, the blue and white striped sweater I wore. She was gifted it by Susannah in their late college years but it never quiet fit her because she was so short. It fit big, but it didn’t sag at my knees or gather at my wrists as much. It smelled like my mom and reminded me of Pennsylvania skies.

The warmth from the heat and the comfort from my clothes set me in a slump, my eyes drooped. I hadn’t even turned on any lights yet, hadn’t gone up to my room to make the bed. I was sat in place on the permanently indented couch. Though my body curled into the spot where I always laid during movie nights, my head fell where Conrad’s lap would’ve been. To imagine we were all just as happy, as close made me feel fuzzy. If I tried hard enough I could even hear his voice. Calling for me, like a dream.

The sun peaked through the windows and the dust that collected on the once neatly kept glass projected tiny shadows and spots across the hardwood floor. The couch was warm with my body heat and other than the faint whisper of the wind, it was peaceful.

A melodic whistle blowed through the open gap between the living room and the kitchen. It was smooth yet broke when the song grew too high for the deeper voice that carried the tune.

Rubbing at my eyes, my feet swung out from under my thighs, I wiped away any drool or signs of slumber. Still, clearing my complexion did not rid my body of the tired achey feeling and the small blurring of my vision. My brain was following behind my body, every caution sign to who was here at this time thrown to the wind.

Mugs clanked together clumsily, my nose burned with the strong scent of coffee beans. It was chillier in the morning here than how I had left it at night, I could feel the tip of my nose turning red and growing colder.

A taller boy stood hunched over the countertops, a spoon clinking around softly as he stirred around something in the mug. His shirt hung loose on his body but his pants fit just right.

His hair was wavy, but only just at the ends. Under the strong smells of early morning caffeine, I could faintly still pick up the scent of sea salt and a spice I couldn’t name. It was vanilla like but also had a lingering smell of oak and woods. It was my favorite smell.

“Conrad..?” It clicked in my brain that the handsome boy hanging around the summer home wasn’t some pick me up sent from heaven. The reason behind my instant admiration for such a simple, domestic task was because of how well I knew and once loved the boy. The name fell from my lips quietly, like I couldn’t believe it was true.

Spinning around, I met his blue eyes. I watched his lips twitch, fighting against some kind of emotion from spreading across his face and the light in his eyes falter. He looked blank, unaware of how his lack of enthusiasm of our reuniting was crushing me inside.

“Figured you’d want coffee.” He was right. He still knew me like the back of his own hand and that was the worst part. I hadn’t changed, I never would. He would always know me and it hurt to know I trusted him like that at one point just for him to leave. He even made it in my favorite mug.

A light blue ceramic mug that still had Belly and Conrad’s fingerprints in the clay and visible brush strokes across the top. They made it for me when we were still little. It was my favorite gift from her because they made it as an apology. For breaking my old vase I made for my mom in art class. They meant to harm and felt horrible, I cherished their kindness more than anything.

“No…no. I’m all set.” Crossing my arms and clearing my throat, I set my eyes on the ground and leaned against the doorframe on the wall. We didn’t speak after that, he didn’t move. Sucking in his lips, I heard him sigh almost disappointedly.

“So…” He tried to start, I was too scared to listen. Not of him, god I could never be scared of him. But of what he could want to say.

My eyes flicked over the dents in the floor, I discovered marks I hadn’t seen before. Just when I thought I had everything memorized. When I thought I knew everything, when I thought I knew him.

“You know, uhm…I think I’m going to settle in.” Nodding at him quickly, I all but ran to the stairs. My hands gripped at the banister so quickly, I felt skin pull skin. It tore just under my fingers beginning, the top of my palm. I swore I heard him call after me, but maybe it was the ringing in my ears.

I came here to get away. In search of some solace, I grasped at the tattered strands of my childhood to find that I had held on too long. In my own journey, by some sort of fate, I dragged along a deeper part of those memories with me.

I spent that morning stowed away in my bedroom. I left the door ajar. The air was chilly still, and the air dusty. The heat had rarely been used. Only on the rare occasions in which Susannah would find reason to escape down to the beautiful town of Cousins. Simply to watch the early snowfalls or sparkling lights decorating the center of the town. Usually when I would get settled into my own room in the summer home, each knickknack would be thrown carelessly over the bureau top and shoved in the forever empty bedside table drawers. I would procrastinate making my bed last. I hated the damned fitted sheets and the wrinkles I couldn’t flatten for days. I hated the way that the corners never stayed. My body stretched as far as it would go, yet I could never quiet hook the fabric far enough to keep it settled.

Today was no different. My blood boiled the same, but it mixed with an unfamiliar warmth. How endearing it was to be able to relive such a memorable moment of my summers again even after tragedy struck the once uniting household.

“Fuck.” The sheets flipped up. The full sized mattress was far too wide to allow my arms to stretch across the full width of its body and hook the corners over far enough to where they wouldn’t slip. Each move resulted in a different kind of release with the bedsheets. Each time I ended up wrapped up in the thin cotton sheets.

The clock ticking on my bedside table taunts me. Reminds me of how long I’ve been tangled around in my bed. If it weren’t so humiliating, I would’ve asked for help. But I created a mess. My feelings, one’s that Conrad had so clearly buried as he was able to be kind and cordial towards me while I panicked like a fish out of water. So I hop around from corner to corner desperate to finish my task.

“Y/n?” The name burns the way it rolls off of his tongue. Like even with me gone, he had practiced pronouncing it in the mirror, whispered it to himself each night. It was like we’d seen each other the day before, the way it came out. Breathless and light.

The moon hung over the house, illuminating thin strips of shine through the windows that led from the floor to the very bed I was sprawled across.

Sighing heavily, I threw my head back. Hair fell in front of my face, tickling the bridge of my nose. I saw Conrad hesitate. His hand flinched out from where it was tucked behind the doorframe. He set it on the white wood frame.

“Can I help?” It was innocent enough. Maybe he was sick of the sound of my knees rubbing against the mattress. Or the way I grunted every few minutes. I stumbled around my room all day fixing it up, I almost forgot how loud it could’ve been.

It felt sour to accept it. Even if it were as innocent and kind as it seemed. Conrad had a glimmer of hope in his eye and his lips upturned. He looked so handsome still, nose pinker from the slight chill and eyes still just as deep blue.

“No thank you.” I huffed. I tried to sound annoyed, something that was hard to do when you weren’t really all that annoyed at all. Resistant was the only similar thing I could place a name to. I saw the wag Conrad’s smile faltered, his eyes looming with a dark shadow, masking the vibrant sparkle.

“Come on, don’t be so stubborn, please? You’ve been at it for hours, just let me help.” Stubborn. Just like my mother and his. Each of us were always set to do things on our own. But this was far more than just genetics at this point. This was my own grudge I was holding. This was my pride and my responsibility over my emotions acting. No matter how nice the gesture, I still refused, gnashing my teeth.

“Oh, so suddenly you care?” It was a lot more mean than I meant it. I know how much Conrad cares. How much he always has. He doesn’t have the best way to show for it, but in the end you always know it. It was a mistake, an instant regret. I watched how his face contorted. He wasn’t just disappointed now, but genuinely hurt by my own dig at his insecurities.

His whole life, Conrad always feared he wasn’t enough. He couldn’t give enough, couldn’t be enough. He always talked himself down, creating a false standard in which everyone else was above him, out of his league. He was insecure. He didn’t need reassurance, he knew what kind of love was real and what was fake, but the fact that maybe I had thought the same crushed him. I could tell.

His silence hung over us so heavy, a knife could slice it. His jaw stuttered and his eyes blinked slow. A loss for words. I wish he could just yell at me. Fuel my fire, make me feel less bad about what I said. Less guilty about the fact I couldn’t get over us when he could. Conrad didn’t deserve my emotional daggers directed at his heart simply because we split. I know Conrad, I always have. His method of leaving was cruel, but the boys heart was in the right place always.

“Fuck!” The sheet snapped back. I had enough. In all seriousness, I should’ve stopped to talk to the boy who was so clearly hurt by the door. A girl, a guest in a house that once felt just as much as hers as his was there in a now occupied room throwing insults unprovoked when he was trying to be nice.

Standing, I stumbled past him clumsily again, taking a spare blanket that hung off the end of the bed with me. I couldn’t take it. His stares, the silence, the sheet, my own guilt, my thoughts. I needed to be out of that sickened room.

“Y/n…” Again, the call was faint. A whisper in my head whose only goal was to make me stop. I didn’t turn. It was unfair, the whole thing. To me, to Conrad. I decided to sleep on the couch.

My back ached. The plush cushioning under my back too soft, too worn in. A good remedy, a great place for a quick nap. But it hurt after more than a few hours. The fabric rubbed harshly, the pillows sunk in. My hips popped when I stood.

The sun was shining through the windows, air crisp. Heat finally reached all corners of the large house and the cob webs were finally swept away. The magic of summer wasn’t there, but it felt homely. A good alternative to the sad loneliness of my own bedroom at home.

The house was still, the kitchen untouched and an empty mug in the sink. It was stained in a ring from where the old drink had been and had little brown streaks from where the coffee dripped off of the sides. The counter tops were cold, despite the heat inside. The floor was quiet, there was no shuffling. It led me to believe that the only other occupant was still asleep.

Heading up the stairs, I picked at my old clothes. The discomfort came from multiple things. The way my clothes stuck to my body, my teeth didn’t feel right in my mouth. My hair was knotted. I looked fine, but nothing felt right. The only way to describe it was that when waking up after a rough couple of nights, it felt like my skin didn’t fit right over my bones.

My door was wide open. The hinges bent all the way back, the light bled through the curtains. My already slow steps came to a halt when the threshold fell behind my legs. My bed was decorated with the same blue floral design it always had during the summers.

The pillows were placed where I always had them, and my blankets were hung so neat on the bottom of my bed. My fingers ran over the soft fabric like it wasn’t really mine. Like I was admiring a sample from a store, wishing it were mine. It was always so pretty.

My thumb hooked over the folded edge very carefully. I didn’t want to mess with the perfectly made bed. More importantly, I didn’t want to crease the remaining hand prints that laid in the center of the bed.

The plushy duvet left residue from bigger hands. Spread along the bends, from the center down. Proof that someone had truly tried their best to perfect it.

Looking under the top, not only had each layer been placed, but the fitted sheet. I could see it now with all its layers peeled back. The thought that even after my initial attempts to push away, to be mean, to hurt him, that Conrad had still wanted to help me made me feel warm. I wasn’t sure why my heart was fluttering for a boy I swore I hated. But my cheeks were red and my knees felt weak. I always did love his acts of service.

I didn’t plan on showering, but my skin was sticky with sleep and my heart was pounding too fast. I hated the fact that Conrad was too good for everyone in his own special ways. I hated the way he still cared and the way he remained so observant even in our absence. Most of all, I hate the way I reach for his shampoo in the shower. Longing for the scent of him to linger on me for just a little longer. How funny it is that we’ve changed so quickly and yet not at all. We used to share our hair products. He kept a hair tie for me in his bedside table. I had a drawer of clothes in his room, he had some in my closet. He went from my everything to just something in my life. Yet, with all this change I still reach for the familiarities of what we once had. My hand still searches the shower for his conditioner. My feet still take me to his door to find a shirt I like. What we had is gone, crushed under the weight of our separation, but my muscle memory pulls me back. The heart is a muscle, one that forever beats for Conrad Fisher.

I sit in the corner for longer than I lather the soap across my skin. My body is curled up against the cold tiles. I feel pathetic doing so. How small I’ve made myself. Not only mentally, but physically. I feel weak at how little self control I have. I think back on the past year of my life and I regret each decision I’ve made leading me here suddenly.

Was I not enough for Conrad? I know it’s not his reasoning behind his leaving, but I feel like the theory becomes more and more plausible the longer I think back on how lonely I’ve been. So stuck on my own problems, I forget how little I see my family. How Belly has grown without me. Her friends, her lovers. She is independent, she knows her path. Steven has matured. He understands feelings, he’s valedictorian. His brains lead him through life, he no longer comes to me at midnight to ask for help with math. I no longer review his essays or read his made up stories in the living room. We are two different siblings who once spent every moment together. My mother is nose deep in her own promotion with her books. She is succeeding while my father is going on dates and moving on. I am stuck in the same spot, forever thinking of the past, I can not move on.

I am scared by the knowledge that my family is no longer dependent on me. A scab is forming over the wound of the fact that Conrad has left, I am not needed. I hope the warm water fading into a cooler drizzle will hide the way my eyes are puffy and red. The streaks of water on cheeks will become streams of the shower. I am strong and resistant like my parents, but I am scared to admit that I have real fears. Ones that control my life. I will never tell them how I breakdown, how my heart is breaking and I am falling off the pedestal.

It’s more lively now then it was just an hour ago. The birds are gone, on vacation away in the warmer weather while the cold covers New England in a chilling blanket. I hear the mugs clattering from the hallways and the soft humming passing through his pink lips. He hears me before he sees me.

“Coffee?” He motioned to the brown liquid, steaming while it poured into the glass pitcher. Rubbing beneath my eyes, I could feel the weight of my eye bags heavy on my skin. My throat was coarse, hands aching from how hard I had grasped onto the shower walls. I hid behind the island counter on the stool. My body curled up into the baggy clothes covering my body, my knees hugging into my chest as close as possible.

“Yes, please.” I mumbled softly, trying not to show any weaknesses. Conrad knew me better than that. The way my lip twitched into a fake smile, how my eyes were more avoidant that usual. Even in my heavy feelings, my eyes were always drawn to him. I was closing myself off.

A beat passed. Conrad’s attempt at conversation had fallen short, right by my feet.

“How’d you sleep?” He turned to me, freshly brewed coffee sloshing around in the same mug as yesterday. He placed it in front of me, but he turned away again to pour his own cup. It wasn’t to further distance himself, creating a divide all while I was shutting down, but to give me room to breathe in a space I was so clearly suffocating in.

“It was okay.” I sighed, hand holding my head, my eyes closed. I imagined myself laid with my back pressed against plush pillows and my childhood bedroom fairy lights hanging over my head. It was still winter, but the atmosphere in my daydream felt of summer.

“I’m glad, then. That it wasn’t so bad, I mean.” He corrected himself, afraid of a wrath inside of me that didn’t exist to him anymore. It never really had, my emotions had only been misplaced yesterday.

Often I’ve been told that my words shoot to kill when I’m mad. I insult and belittle myself more than others, but my mother has no problem with bringing up the few times I targeted my feelings at Steven or Belly. How little I made them feel, how guilty I felt. I threw up once, after yelling at Steven. He hadn’t cared for it, fighting was what siblings did. But remembering how I tried to hurt him made me sick. I felt the same after insulting Conrad.

Nodding my head, I pursed my lips into a thin line. My eyes blinked away any dryness, I inhaled a deep breath.

“Hey, uhm…thank you, by the way.” I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands, hovering over the cup of coffee to revel in the hot steam hitting my face.

Conrad turned around, leaning against the counter. His hands pressed up behind him, firm but his face was soft, glad.

“I shouldn’t have…you didn’t deserve that.” My eyes flickered between the floor and the folding of my sleeves over my thumbs. My skin was cold, my hair wet on the back of my neck. I had a lump in my throat.

“Y/n?” His voice was gentle, closer than before. I saw his elbows press against the counter top, just mere inches away. I felt even more awkward, littler than before somehow.

I hummed. But the coarseness in my throat made it come out as more of a rumble. I choked on the growing lump, my nose burned.

“We don’t have to avoid each other.” He said it like that was so easy. Like everything was resolved by him simply stating that he didn’t want to face the consequences of our actions.

“I know.” I brought the edge of the mug to my lips and blew. Steam clouded my vision, the wet heat felt nice on my cheeks.

“Y/n.” He said more firmly.

He wasn’t angry, but he wanted my attention. My eyes flickered up to his. They were darker now. Swarmed with so many emotions, it was hard to grasp onto what he was feeling. I set the mug down.

“Please don’t avoid me.” He begged more softly, his hand hesitated to reach out to me. Once they clasped around mine, it was almost relieving. Having something familiar to ground me while I was only working myself up. “I miss you, I miss us. We were best friends and we haven’t even spoken in…I don’t even know how long. This, this is stupid. To be running in circles like this?”

“That’s easy for you to say.” This time, my words weren’t angry. They broke apart when I spoke. The sentence was raw, the lump in my throat broke through my clenched teeth and my nose heated up in an intense burn. My eyes were heavy, working hard to keep any tears at bay. Again, here I find myself in a different spot, practicing the same habits. I stand in front of Conrad angry, ready to hurt his ego and pierce a hole through his heart just to ease my own mind.

I wanted exactly what he did, to be as close. I missed him more than anything in my life ever, but it wasn’t so simple. He pleaded my name again, I pulled my hands out of his. His fingers were like a barbed wire. It suddenly stung to have him touching me.

“I just wish you would’ve acknowledged it, you know? I mean look at me, look at us. You’re fine, you’re happy. I can’t even look at you without wanting to cry.” When our hearts broke, they broke uneven. Conrad was left with a bruise why I was facing the pain of a bleeding scar across my own. He had been the one to cause the rift, he had been the one to bring up everyone’s insecurities, use them against our relationship.

“Y/n.” He whispered, reaching out to me again. I stood from the stool, keeping my distance. My tears were hot, they burned into my skin.

“You couldn’t even stand me, Conrad! And I couldn’t see it before, but I can now. You couldn’t even text me, no. No, but that’s not the worst part. Maybe it’s the fact that you couldn’t even show up to Stevens graduation because I was there.” He sighed, ready to defend himself. I look back on all the disappointed faces, I remember the way Steven frowned at that empty seat beside me and I feel angry.

“Do you know how hard it is to tell your baby brother that his hero couldn’t make it to his graduation because he can’t even stand to be around me? Do you know how sad he was when he started to walk up to the podium and saw your seat was empty? I recorded it and sent it to you, did you know that? I wasn’t going to, I didn’t think you deserved to have a part in one of the most important parts in Stevens life, but he begged me to. Tried to make me send it twice so you’d get it.” I took a deep breath, wiping away the tears by my eyes, more spilled. My face was wet with salt water and red with anger.

“So why don’t we go back to how things were before after you’ve fucked it all up!”

“It’s really fucking unfair of you to act like this hasn’t affected me at all either!” He finally shot back. He was never one to yell. Conrad always had some sort of control over his composure. He never yelled, he hated yelling.

“How, how can you say that after you’ve done nothing to fix anything!” Walking closer to him, I saw how he turned away to grip the counter between his fingers.

“People deal with shit differently, Y/n. Grow up!” He yelled. His eyes were wild, it should’ve scared me. But god, him telling me to grow up after all he put me through only made me angrier. I was fragile already. But not as a flower, but a bomb.

“Fuck you, Conrad.” My voice was shaky, but firm. I didn’t yell, my lack of volume was almost scarier than my inevitable rage. He looked up at me, it was like watching him realize how his words had betrayed him. He hadn’t meant for us to fight, to talk like this. He wanted to fix things. He wanted me back.

“Y/n.” He shook his head, walking closer to me, he bent away from the edges of the island to reach me quicker. His voice was laced with pity

“Stop saying my name!” I backed away, feet catching on the threshold, I slowed myself down. Each time he said it, it pulled on my heartstrings. How could he be so selfish to not even be able to see all the pain I’ve been put through!

“I’ve missed you ever since I left you! You think I don’t regret the way I treated you? I’m not naïve to my own stupidity, I know my mistakes, I’ve owned them. You were my everything, god you might as well have hung the stars!” He waved his hands around to animate what he was saying. It only stresses me out more.

“Then why? Why did you throw it all away!” My body began to crumble beneath me, my knees wobbled.

“Because I was scared! I was scared of losing you. I thought if I let myself become too obsessed, that if you decided to leave me I would never be able to get back up. I had to do it!” He confessed. It all made sense then. All my unanswered questions, all my insecurities of not being enough. Conrad hadn’t left because I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He left because he was scared of what would happen when I was gone. That he wasn’t enough.

“I wouldn’t have left you, Conrad. I wouldn’t have.” My palms hit my eyes, my knees started to give. A sob ripped through my throat. It hurt to breathe.

His arms were like a blanket. His hands still fit perfectly around my back. When he held me, it was tight. I knew it then that he wouldn’t be letting me go, not now. His shirt was wet with my tears, mine was wet with my hair. I felt stupid, naïve to think of Conrad in such bad ways when he had only been doing what he thought was best to protect his heart after loss after loss.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I repeated it like a prayer, I didn’t mean to be so mean. I didn’t want to be rude to him, I wanted him to be close to me always. His heart was beating out of his chest when he nodded. He knew I never meant to fight him. We were both entitled to our feelings, there was no reason in trying to apologize for how we reacted.

His hand lifted to my head, brushing through my hair. He gathered a chunk in his palm, his knuckles gripping at it. It didn’t hurt, he didn’t intend for it to. He was breathing me in, holding onto me in every which way possible.

“It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.” My sobs were muffling themselves, quieting down into soft whimpers. It took a lot to even nod my head against his shirt. It smelled like him, and it was homely. I felt safer now than in our argument. Our words held no value anymore, I just hoped that what he said was true.

Holding her like that almost made things feel normal again. Having her hair in between my fingers and her waist pressed against mine. I wanted to revel in it, selfishly. But her sniffles and uneven breath only made me remember why I even got the privilege to hold her again.

Again and again, I watched her breakdown over a mistake I made. To protect myself. I swore it to her last winter, promised her that it would always be my favorite season because she was my favorite thing. I built up this trust and a love between us. It was when she left that I freaked out over what my mom said.

“I’ve never seen you so happy.” She had said, poncho bc my cheek between her fingers. Playfully, I pulled my face away.

“Yea?” I mused, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and watched the steady snowfall on the final night of winter through the window.

“The love bug’s got you.” She was right. I was so undeniably in love with Y/n. I would change everything in my life just to be with her always.

“What?” My eyes squinted from the way my eyebrows furrowed. She was still looking out into the snow.

“It’s okay to be in love, Connie.” She quickly turned to me and smoothed out my shirt. She sensed my confusion and stress. I knew I was in love with her, but the fact that it was that obvious, that clear made me worry.

“Everyone has their first love at some point.” With that she left. At some point. The words rung through my head. I knew that the first love was always the strongest, but this was not my first love. I had fallen for an ex-girlfriend in freshman year. She broke my heart. Why was the thought of Y/n leaving shattering mine completely?

The more I thought of us together then, the more I worried about her leaving. She was perfect for me, maybe. But could I even measure up to her perfection? Could I give her everything?

I was able to push that feeling away for a few weeks. But as winter turned to spring and the leave began to regrow, I couldn’t shake it. Distance was a thing I was only growing between us. Space, something I created so there was no way we could get hurt. I thought it was the right thing, then. I thought it was the right move for me to let her leave so easily. To watch her fight for me one last time and not react. I was giving her the chance for someone more, someone better. I didn’t know I was only breaking her heart in ways I worried I would break my own.

It was a guilt I lived with all these months. When she didn’t come up to cousins because she wasn’t feeling good, I knew why. I had avoided her like the plague after our last conversation, our first real fight. I couldn’t even show up for her family in one of their most important milestones. Now it seemed like we only fight now, or at least in these past couple hours.

My neck was stiff from how it leaned against the back of the couch. I hadn’t watched past the hour mark of the black and white movie Conrad had put on. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I no longer liked it.

The movie was all I watched when I was at my absolute worst. Not to say I wasn’t still there, I felt rock bottom beneath my feet, but I felt myself getting better slowly. I no longer spent each day rewatching the same film over and over to ease the pain and remind myself of a happier time. I hated the way they talked. I once found it romantic, but the old cracking in the sound and the fancy accents made me angry. None of it was real.

To Conrad, he only did what he thought I would like. He had no way of knowing of my new distaste to the movie. One I used to rave about for hours. Then again, he never asked.

Yawning, I felt a set of eyes on mine.

“Tired?” He asked, a small smile on his face. I waved him off.

“Nope.” I popped the ‘p.’ It was an easy lie, my dark circles and slouchy posture gave it away. There was no way to sell it. I was surprised when he didn’t push me on it. My eyes drooped, my cheek pressed to my lonely shoulder. I had no one to lean on. I curled into myself a little, all while silently telling myself I was awake.

A pillow hit my lip, I bit down a little but it didn’t hurt me. My eyes were wide open now, hair messed up around the top. My fly aways were all over the place, my eyes squinting.

“Hey!” Grabbing the corners of the pillow, I swung as hard as I could towards Conrad, the culprit. It his his chest, he groaned out in a heavy breath. The pillow was soft, I was sure it didn’t hurt. But he entertained the idea that it did by rubbing circles in his chest, wincing and hissing through his teeth. I rolled my eyes.

“Seriously?” I leaned back against the cushions again, placing the pillow comfortably over my lap. I heard him laugh. A real, genuine laugh. It felt like weight was lifted off of my back.

“What! That was one of my best performances.” He punched my shoulder. I shot him playful glares. He pushed at me again, begging for a reaction. I folded already, giving into his games and retaliating against his childish attacks. But I would not crumble so easily. I would not let him tease me and play me until I opened up again just hours after yet another fight. I worried that another would ensue.

Sitting up, I tossed the pillow back at him. The sound he made confirmed it had hit him in the face.

“Come on, where are you going?” I could hear the smile in his voice. It made me smile too, knowing he was happy.

“To bed, I am tired.” I didn’t look back, but I felt him watching.

I swore I heard words die on his tongue. A soft stutter to a dead silence. Like he wanted to protest but stopped himself somehow. He never saw me look back, but when I was turning to the stairs, I allowed myself a glimpse.

His eyes were spacey, lip pulled between his front teeth. His eyebrows furrowed. He was deep in thought, but I could see the disappointment in his face. He didn’t seem as full of life, as cheerful. We were rebuilding a childhood, best friend bond that was lost with in cracking of our foundations in the spring.

“Goodnight, Conrad.” I still hadn’t had the ability to carry a joke with him. To keep a conversation flowing without my emotions dying inside of me before I could get them out. I whispered my goodnight. I wanted him to know I still held a place in my heart for him, but part of me wanted to reserve that knowledge to only myself.

I was scared to be more than what was being proposed. The door was open, we were almost friends. It was an odd spot. We’d act like friends, joke like them, but we both knew what we had done, what had just happened. I would walk through the entrance if Conrad would allow it. If we could at least be close, even if his lips weren’t mine, even if his body wasn’t there for me to lean on anymore. I would live happily, I’d be able to put on a brave face and call myself his friend. I would stand by the alter, watching him find another love, burying the hatchet of our love for good and I would be okay, I decided. As long as I still had him. As long as I never had to feel as alone as I did this morning.

“They’re saying borderline blizzard conditions, Con. You don’t think we’ll need to go on a supply run, do you?” His back was turned to me, hands working over the pot of coffee skillfully. His thumb brushed against the glass, he hissed quietly and shook his hand off.

“I think you’re just overthinking it.” He payed my worry not attention. He knew this house better than I did. It would hold, that wasn’t the worry. We had no shovels, nothing to dig us out of snow were to block us in. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I made my way around the island, pushing myself off of the counter and into one of the stools perched under it.

“Coffee?” Conrad asked, ignoring my questions again. I gave into him, playing his game and being stubborn.

“What kind?” My fingers drew circles on the cold marble.

“Black.” He set the cup down in front of me, letting it come to a halt right in front of me. My eyes flickered to the coffee, a smirk fighting it’s way onto my cheeks.

“Like your soul?” Like your heart, is what I wanted to say. Something that used to come so easy, meaningless insults directed at him not to make him sad, but to make him smile. I still hadn’t answered by question, though. If I were to direct a remark at his heart, would it weigh too much under the cracking foundation of our recovering friendship? I still wondered if he would laugh at that and go along with it.

Conrad laughed, looking out the window and admiring the sky. He didn’t respond, but he never really had when I’d make those jokes. Usually he would laugh or tell me it was a good one. He sighed lightly.

“I walked right into that one.” He smiled down at his coffee now, holding the mug loose with the handle dangling between his fingers.

When silence took over the room, it wasn’t uncomfortable. We welcomed it. We were alone with our thoughts and for once, they weren’t twisted and heavy. Only happy memories and thoughts of old habits.

In my mind, I dreamed of times where I knew what to say after making a joke. What I could do to counter a snarky remark and his laughter. I always knew what to say to him, when and why. I knew what made him tick. I still knew how to set him off, I believe that once you have the ability to get under someone’s skin, you never truly lose it. Either you continue to poke at the wounds that hurt them so, or your presence is able to remind them of it. Yet, with all the loss in my every heartbeat, somewhere along the way I forgot how to keep him happy.

Conrad’s footsteps snapped me out of my clouded haze. My eyes snapped up from the counter to his face. He didn’t look at me, but stayed focused on his coffee.

“Glad to know you still got it.” His eyes flicked to me, I swear I saw him wink. It was so quick, my words died in a pathetic stutter. I smiled stupidly at him, I couldn’t even pretend to be snarky. It caught me off guard, somehow. My walls were torn down now, the barrier of anger and sadness I kept up around him to keep us apart gone with our last fight and heart to hearts. The devils in the details, but somehow it didn’t feel as deep, as life changing anymore.

It was like he knew I couldn’t think of something to promise to him. To keep us going. He surely hadn’t lost it.

I tried to rationalize everything recently. But it felt like it took over my life. I’d almost forgotten about Belly and Steven. How they’d been so quick to shut me out simply because someone had offered me a place to be wanted for a moment. Conrad always knew when to swoop in to save me. I could help but talk myself down every so often and convince myself that Conrad is not made of Angel dust. He simply is a man, and a smart one at that. All of this could be just to butter me up, I know it’s always an outcome. A way to win me back, but never want me the same. It poisons me to think about him that way, I know him. He would never play me to become the good guy.

My mind has no middle line. Constantly wavering between my lover, the man I see as the sky and the seas. I see him as a perfect lipstick stain to a white collar, uggs in the fall, hot chocolate in the winter. He is all things I love and yet I still fight. The other part of me fights my heart to keep my distance. How just hours ago I told myself the hate I had for Conrad was always going to be just that, irreversible hurt that he caused. It’s the sweetest torture I could bare in the fact that really, by the end of it my mind is set on just getting to be with him again. No matter what his games are.

It’s pathetic, but my heart strings pull a little whenever I hear his footsteps upstairs. When I can tell if he’s coming to see me or not. I like knowing he likes to be around me once more. It almost covers up the fact that he hurt me so bad. I’m not idiot, however. I wish I were in some cases, but I’m not blinded completely by my love. With every advance, I find a way to make it platonic. He’s my friend.

He said he missed me, our friendship bond. I know that he is a man of his word. I should not work myself up, I shouldn’t expect so much. I shouldn’t jump into his arms because he says go. I think rationally, I use my head. I let my heart race and my cheeks flush but ultimately my brain will stop me from messing about again. So part of me finds it sad when the power goes out later that day. For both the house and myself. It’s childish how quickly I jump in search of Conrad. I have to remind myself not to hold onto him, not to yell I told you so.

I call for his name quietly through the halls, feeling the chipping paint under my finger tips. It’s still fresh, but bumpy. A previous project of Susannah’s from when her paint brushes never seemed to dry out. It’s hard to tell if she never finished her projects that summer. Or even if she never finished any.

In the dark, it’s almost more clear to see where her brush strokes end. Where the moonlight illuminates the white and blues, you can see the divides between old and new. God, if she were any less attentive it would surely be the end of this house. It was in great condition, but some things were out of place, uncared for simply because Susannah’s mind went a mile a minute.

Smiling, I let my hands run over the wall, feet planting on the cold wood. I could feel it through my socks, with the lights out and the heat stuttering to a halt.

“Y/n/n, hey.” He sounded breathless, coming up from behind me. I hadn’t even noticed the stomping of his feet up the staircase as my fingers danced along the wall. So caught up in the past I find it that sometimes I forget that I’m living in my present. Looking around my metaphorical room in my mind, I see my chosen family. I see his brother as mine, his mother as mine. I see myself as a child again running through the sand and tracking mud through the dining room.

I know deep down I can not keep holding on, keep on keeping myself back. I can never give Conrad peace, but I can give him my sunshine, my best. He would always have a friend in me. I set my heart free then, fingers stuck to the wall, eyes flickering to my feet. I let go of my heart break and my solemn silences I throw at my loved ones for guilt. I let my walls down, I take Conrad’s hand, and I shake my head. His smile is warm, his eyes loving. He still needs me, he always has. He still loves me and my heart is racing. I finally feel like I have him back.

“You okay?” Back in reality, I’m aware that I’m not actually holding onto his hand, and Conrad isn’t really smiling at me. My heart is still in its cage and I have fallen victim to my own mind again. Conrad is not mine.

Clearing my throat, I lick at the corners of my lips. When I shake my head this time, I know it’s real because Conrad is looking at me questioningly. He is not in love with me, he is not drooling over me. The power is still out and our muddy footprints mean nothing to him anymore.

“We blew a fuse, but the generators dead. We’re just going to have to stick it out.” I nodded again, looking up at him with doe eyes. My lips were glossy with a sheen coat of spit from how much I licked them, but at them nervously. Yet, he didn’t even spare me a glance. It was almost like he was waiting on something.

“You can say it.” He finally sighed.

“Say what?” His eyes caught mine, seeing just how intently my eyes focused on his dimples and the bridge of his nose decorated with delicate freckles. I cleared my throat.

“You told me so.” He smiled, punching my shoulder playfully. He could tell my mind was drifting, he could see it, I saw the way his eyes softened. My gentle smile turned into a shit-eating grin.

A beat passed, he continued waiting on me in the dark room. I liked it in some odd ways. Enjoyed having him waiting on me for once. It wasn’t the same. How my heart waited for his apologies for so long, how I expected it because I knew one day he would come back to me to make things right in his own way. But somehow, his desire for my once overlooked jokes and brushed off comments made my cheeks warm. Like more than me in this moment, he wanted the normal us back.

“Are you going to…” He voice trailed off, my feet picked up against the cold wood floor.

“Why don’t you start the fire? I’m going to get some blankets.” I tucked the hair behind my ear, practically running to the staircase. He nodded, not that I could see it, but the silence confirmed that he had forgotten that I couldn’t truly see his nod. That along with a soft hum of approval from him.

“Oh, and Conrad.” He hummed again. His eyes glistened in the moonlight, shining brighter than any other object standing in the hallway. He waited on me patiently, slowly inching closer.

“I told you so.”

The best of blankets and pillows sprawled put along the living room floor helped to further nestle us against the foot of our white couch. The snowfall and the storm felt less like an inconvenience but a gift.

I was reminded of my childhood. Of first snowfalls and broken ice skates. Red noses and icy hair. I remember how even after the facade of perfect holidays and new years kisses faded into nothing more than a dream, how my heart still soared with excitement each coming fall. How I couldn’t wait to see the snowy powder decorating my front lawn. I get reminded of why I drove so long to see Conrad. Of his warm hugs and his soft mittens. Wearing his hats and stumbling around in the backyard. I feel less hurt by the company than I once did a few days ago. I feel blessed that by some miracle, fate had string Conrad and I back together. That his hands would forever paint my hands in a gentle love we only held, and his whispers of senseless jokes he mumbled tiredly were only mine to laugh at.

The fire crackled, roaring feverishly through the night. The snow and wind pounded against the sides of the house, and despite the chills running through my toes and my fingers, I felt warmer inside than before, rekindling our inside jokes and fueling ourselves for even more.

Soon, our soft laughter and ongoing conversations died out. Our eyes glued to the flames, I tried to catch a glimpse into Conrad’s eyes. I wanted to know what the fire would look like reflected into his blue eyes. Instead, I caught his gaze locked onto my face.

I felt embarrassed, in a way. Vulnerable under his gaze. I felt my cheeks heat up and my body tingle. I felt like a school girl again.

“Y/n/n.” He called for me softly. The only way I was sure that he’d even said it was the fact that my eyes were so trained in his pink lips. I nodded slowly.

“Why did you come down here? Why now?” Even though the question was serious, I couldn’t help but to smile at his curiosity in my life.

Taking a deep breath, I watched his flat face turn into a welcoming grin.

“Lately, I’ve just been caught up in the past, I guess. I’m just so used to coming home every winter to Steven and Belly in the living room already fighting. And my dad and mom arguing about what decorations playfully.” Conrad laughed like he could picture it. He’d never really been in my house during the holidays. Sure, the Fisher family would stop by every few months when the distance became too much, but holiday’s were usually spent apart.

“I guess when I came home this year and that wasn’t there, I kind of freaked a little. I mean, Steven just left, Belly was too caught up in her own life to care about what I wanted to do, how much time we had left. My dad was too busy to stop by and…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I almost allowed the words to slip, how the final straw was that even with the mess of my family, at least at one point I had Conrad. I had his gentle hands and his quiet promises to hold onto. When everything went to hell, it was like losing the last bit of peace. “I wanted to be somewhere I wouldn’t feel alone, I guess.” I replaced my words with this. Hoping he’d understand how much he meant to me, how much all of it meant to me.

The single puff of air coming harshly through his mouth in a sigh reminded me just how close we were. How I could feel each word falling from his lips fanning over my shoulder. We were sharing a blanket, so close yet our bodies so far.

“Y/n.” He sounded more serious. During my confession, I found a home in the floorboards. Feeling safer confessing to the air than to a man who destroyed me not so long ago. My eyes hesitated to meet his, but I could see just how serious he was.

“I regret what happened between us more than anything I’ve ever done in my life. I know I can’t reverse that, but please never say you are alone. I swear to you, no matter what, I’m there.” It was rare to hear such thing from Conrad. Maybe a grunt of a hug to assure my feelings were always appreciated. But I could see the sincerity in his face, his voice was dripping with guilt. He meant it, every word.

Nodding my head, I silently thanked him. I watched his eyes search my face. How his lips parted but shut quickly. He decided against continuing, but it was like an unspoken apology was being said between us in that moment.

With gravity pulling us together, it was only in my nature to protect my heart. I had to rip us apart before I gave in without knowing if we’d ever be the same. If I kissed him and it was just a winter fling, I couldn’t take another heartbreak.

So, in our silence, I moved my hand between us. The pad of my thumb brushing away the charcoal from the fire dusting just under his cheek. I watched how he shivered and backed away, eyes fluttering shut. All while I bit at my lip, delicate in the way I rubbed away the dust.

“Are my hands cold?” I remained focused in on him, my lips curled into a smile seeing his reaction to my touch, how he shivered but didn’t complain. He nodded his head slowly, but his eyes were still closed.

I saw how his eyebrows furrowed, it wasn’t from discomfort, but in the low light it was hard to tell. My hand curled away, ready to ease the coldness off of his skin. I didn’t expect his own hand to cover mine, holding it against his now rosy cheeks.

“Feels nice.” He mumbled almost drowsily. His eyes still hidden behind his eyelids, his other hand found mine aimlessly, gently pressing it to his other cheek. I felt his weight sink into my palms, reveling in my touch.

The band suddenly snapped. All the tension, all the build up. He was right there, so eager, so gentle. I had to know if he was still the same boy I loved not too long ago. He had set me up for an old joke.I always wondered if I could still joke with him like this. It still gnawed at me some nights.

“It’s because you’re cold hearted.” I expected him to laugh, I hoped he would. But instead, he smiled just as genuine as his old laughter, melting into my touch more than I thought he could ever. I hadn’t been able to predict what he would tell me. Couldn’t have read his lips even if I could see into the future.

“For everyone else, maybe. But not for you.” He was as honest as a man could be. With his eyelashes fluttering open, I could see it in his eyes now. How they looked back at me wide and awake. I felt my stomach flip. There was something there I had previously missed. Dancing along with the glowing of the fire in his irises, was the same spark he once carried when I was his and he was mine.

I didn’t even get to challenge it, teasing him and making him repeat his confessions. My lips stuttered on the first syllable, just before his hands smushed my cheeks with the force of how he grabbed me. He was firm, but not aggressive. He could never hurt me.

His lips molded against mine perfectly in my mind. He tasted like mint and hot chocolate. My hands tangled in his hair, his palms flat against my waist. With so little space between us, so much fever and pent up frustration, air became harder and harder to get. With each touch of his fingers, it was like tiny fires being sparked across my body.

He hadn’t even had to tell me what he felt then. Neither did I. In that moment my walls crumbled beneath my feet. All resistance was gone. In Conrad’s grasp, I felt less alone.

I knew it then. To Conrad, my mind games I played on myself, my temper and the storms that would inevitably cloud up my sunniest days, the fact that I could never give him peace did not matter. We would always be enough.

[dabuggh3]

Hi I love your fics! If you’re taking requests could you maybe write a scenario in which reader n hamzah meet for the first time, maybe through a mutual friend, and hamzah is totally smitten! What would he notice/like about reader? How would he act around them? Would Martin tease him abt it? 👉👈

HII thank you so much I’m glad you enjoy them!! My request are openn. Sorry if this doesn’t live up to your expectations I tried my best😭. Enjoy💗

It was Wednesday and your friend invited you to hang out with him and help, while he was in a studio helping with a photoshoot for his friends. You said why not, you needed to get out for a bit anyways. Plus you loved this kind of stuff, photography has always been one of your favorite hobbies. When you guys arrived, your friend invited you to sit in a couch while you guys waited for them to come.

As you lay on the couch you heard the door swing open and your friend say, “AHHHH finally, you guys take forever”, while laughing. “It wasn’t my fault, Hamzah takes forever to fix his fucking hair”, says a tall white guy. “ Yea okay blame me acting like you didn’t drive slow as fuck over here” says another tall, curly headed guy. They all start laughing and your friend says “oh this is my friend I invited her to come and help”. You get up and go over to them. “ Hi I’m Martin nice to meet you” “ Hi nice to meet you I’m Hamzah” They seemed extremely nice and you returned a smile and introduced yourself as well. You couldn’t help but notice how much Hamzah was staring at you while in group conversations. And you couldn’t lie you were doing the same he was a VERYYY attractive .

As Hamzah and Martin got dress your friend explained the concept of their photoshoot and what kind of vibes they were going for. As you’re helping set up lights and cameras, you hear laughing, when you turn you see Hamzah and Martin in blue scrubs. You couldn’t help but giggle as well. While taking the photo shoot the energy in the room was so good, the music in the background, everything was just perfect . While your friend was taking photos you were helping by giving your opinion on how you thought it looked.

You noticed Hamzah’s scrubs were a bit out of place. “ Hi sorry, your tag is sticking out I’m just going to fix it for you” “ Oh yea go ahead,… thank you” While putting it back in you got a whiff of his cologne, you normally hate strong cologne but his actually smelled so good. “You smell really good by the way” He stares and looks a bit flustered , he smiles, “Thank you”. Martin kind of giggles, “ Really, it’s not too over powering he leaves his scent in my house after he leaves”

“Really “ you laugh “ I wouldn’t mind it” you say .

You leave and go back behind the camera. And continue with the photoshoot, you guys take a lunch break. While you’re eating on the couch Hamzah comes and joins you. While Martin and your friend go over the photos that were taken. You notice that Hamzah isn’t in his scrubs anymore. He’s in a white tank top, a bit sweaty. You stare admiring him, noticing how tone his arms are.

You break the silence, “You like the photos so far” “ Yea of course you and (friend) are really talented thanks for helping out by the way” “ Of course I love photography plus your guys concept is so creative” “ Really I’m glad to see you like it” “ By the way how much is it going to be for my lunch” “ Oh no don’t worry you don’t have to pay me back” “ You sure I have no problem paying you back” “ No it’s okay ok Id be more than happy paying for it”

Martin hears and says ,” Thanks bro I wont be paying you back either” “ No your ass still owes me 24 dollars” “Yea Yea whatever” Soon you guys end the shoot and end up going out for ice cream.

Hamzah Pov:

Getting into the car he couldn’t help but stare at you. “ Hamzah stop staring you freak” “ Bro stop” “ You know you could just ask for her number right” “ Bro what are you doingg” “ You’re just gonna act like you’re not basically obsessed with her and you just met” “ Okay andd she’s really pretty am I just supposed to act like she’s not” “ No but if you like her that much give it chance and just ask” “Didn’t you hear her compliment your cologne, your scent *wink wink* ” “ Okay calm down, bro thinks were in a alpha episode game” “ Yea bro she can be your Dsstiny” “ Martin stoppp” “Cmon brudder, No but seriously just ask” “ Okayyyyuh” “ Don’t act like you don’t wanna ask so bad” “ Boy shut up and just keep driving”

Once you guys get the ice cream shop. You guys order your ice cream and stay in the shop to eat, talk and laugh about random stuff. Once the time comes to go home you say goodbye to Martin and Hamzah. You give them each a side hug and they thank you for helping. You get a bit cold so you decide to wait in the car while your friend is talking about some last minute things with Martin and Hamzah. You notice that Hamzah keeps looking at you in the car so you smile at him. He looks kind of nervous.

He comes over, “ I just wanted to say thank you, once again for helping” “ Oh of course, no problem” “Yea…so I was wondering, well if it’s okay with you and you didn’t have a boyfriend or something-“ “ Yes Hamzah I’d love to give u my number” “ Oh great then I’d love to give you mine too” “ Soo I’ll text you later then” “ Yea text me whenever” “ Great…well have a goodnight and I’ll see you soon” “ Yes see you soon ,Goodnight Hamzah”

[britcision]

Listen I can’t finish it tonight but I’m real real close but next week is gonna be buuuuuuusy so chapter 15 is right on the line of done and we’ll see if I get it up before next Wednesday 👀

If I do, we may not have a WIP Wednesday next week so again, we shall see

This week, have second place from the poll, Waylon and Danny!

————————

I’ll Take The Highway part vi

Waylon sat back in his seat, back scraping against the wall of the booth as he surveyed the kid in front of him.

Little squirt was tougher ‘n he looked, that much was definitely true. Harley had given him the short run down on their way to the milkshake bar, all the powers she knew he had.

And that he’d been hunted by his folks for a while. Waylon knew how that kinda shit could mess ya up.

He appreciated the heads up too, cuz this kinda shit coming up outta nowhere? Also pretty damn rough. He’d wondered if the kid just wanted to come along for another fight.

If he just wanted another chance to say he’d looked Killer Croc in the eye.

But there was no real bravado there, not even when he challenged Waylon to a rematch. Shit, the kid treated him more normal than most of his henchmen had ever managed to.

Made sense, knowing he was part a ghost an’ fought ghost rogues, but it left Waylon wondering. Apparently he was getting his answer.

Same damn question he’d asked himself a thousand times, ‘specially around the kind of young vigilantes who’d taken a turn to the bad.

Didn’t mean he had a good answer.

He regarded the kid for a long minute, watching the fidgeting, the sudden shyness from a boy who’d literally tackled him from behind on a whim.

This wasn’t just an idle question. Something made him sure of that, and he’d never been involved in all that much of the really weird shit. You heard stories, especially in Arkham.

So he decided to give the kid the best answer he had.

“Cuz I was the worst version of myself. I let myself be the monster they thought I was, got pretty good at it. But it never made me happy.” He paused, mulling it over.

Chuckled softly and looked down into his half drunk milkshake. It was kinda funny how obvious it seemed, in hindsight.

“Shit, there was never even anythin’ I wanted. Not like Penguin, Freeze, or the others. People treated me like a monster so I tried to be one, cuz why the hell not? Couldn’t be worse, could it?”

His gaze shifted back to Danny’s face, watching the kid’s expression. No judgement, which was nice. But he did look confused.

“So you just… got sick of it?” Danny asked, his brows furrowed as he played with his fingers.

Waylon chuckled and shook his head.

“Kinda. Spent a while thinkin’ if people couldn’t treat me with respect, fear’d do. But it ain’t the same. An’ I never had the drive or creative cruelty to stand out in Gotham.”

Danny looked a little incredulous at that, eyebrows rising, but he caught himself before commenting. Snickered and shook his head.

“Yeah, I guess being in a city that’s used to people like Scarecrow and the Joker puts “big and green” into perspective,” he agreed dryly, and Waylon laughed.

It felt good to laugh.

“Oh yeah. City’s got more than its share of low level thugs anyway. I spent a while as extra muscle for the big boys, but I ain’t the takin’ orders sort,” he explained with a modest shrug.

Danny grinned, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward.

“What, a shy and retiring guy like you?” He asked, clearly teasing, and Waylon waved a hand dismissively.

“I’m lucky it was Gotham,” he added after a moment, reflection sobering his mood. “Got sent t’ Arkham. Met Harley. An’ the Bat’s not all that bad. He tried gettin’ me outta the life a couple times.”

Danny cocked his head, a slight frown returning to his face. Following Waylon’s lead.

“How did Batman try and get you out?” There was a little too much intensity for it to be a casual question, and Waylon noted it. Not that he’d figure it out on his own.

Just tryin’ to make sure he didn’t damage the kid.

“Oh, there were a couple ways. Got me moved down to Florida once. Out in the green, away from people. I figured bein’ a wild animal might be more my speed, but it wasn’t. An’ it got messy when I left. Like that whatever he tried, really. There’s lines you can’t uncross.”

Lines like being a cannibal.

Not that he was sobbin’ on a preacher’s shoulder about it. Most of the people he’d eaten were assholes who’d deserved it, and it’d been a preference not a need.

For all people loved to go on about him eatin’ kids and babies, he’d never actually done it. A guy had to have standards.

Made it easy to stop, once he was in a better head space. He and Harley had talked a lotta old shit out.

Kid didn’t need to know those grisly details though, at least not from his own mouth. Watching Danny a moment longer, Waylon came to a decision.

“Look, kid. There’s a lotta reasons people go bad. Some of ‘em can’t be helped. But if they’re not gettin’ anything out of it, if there’s no goal? The appeal runs out. And sometimes all it takes is someone willin’ to reach down an’ haul yer back up to the light.”

He wouldn’t ask if that was the case with whoever the kid wanted to help. Everyone heard stories, ‘specially about heroes meeting their evil selves.

The fear looked personal, but the asking coulda been for anyone. Waylon was in no rush to judge.

Danny mulled over his words for a while, lips moving soundlessly as he frowned down at the table. This time when he looked up, there was a peace in his eyes.

He’d come to a decision. Good for him.

“Thanks, Waylon. You seem like a pretty great guy to me,” he said simply, and Waylon definitely did not feel a lump in his throat.

“This is after years o’ Harley workin’ on me,” he grumbled gruffly. Shaking his head, he slurped down the last of his milkshake quickly.

Nothing like brain freeze to explain being a little misty eyed.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor r @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook

[thefrontofmymind]

Might As Well 5; Is This Town Worth Living In?

matty healy x videographer!reader

WC: 5252

masterlist

You treated it like a job. An unpaid, harrowing job. Every gig you would act as roadie for the band; driving to the gig in Matty’s van–wordlessly–setting up all their equipment, cheering as loud as you could for every song, and then packing it all up and going home again. It broke your heart, this professional partnership with Matty. It wasn’t working, even with minimal words between you, so much was being said.

I love you.

I miss you.

Me too.

I know but it’d never work.

I don’t care.

You’d begun working on some new ideas for music videos with him. You needed something to talk about apart from yourselves. It was an alright distraction, it’d fill the time of the long drives to pubs in the city, one weekend you even made your way to Sheffield for a gig once. Months went by, and it felt like your life was passing you by, but the only real thing was those drives. Even with your skin itching and your heart breaking, Matty’s presence brought you comfort.

It was beginning to get warmer, the sun was staying up later and you didn’t mind the windows down as Matty drove. The rest of the guys had to take off early, all citing different excuses, though you knew they all thought it a bother to have to pack up all the equipment. George once told you he was just waiting for when they were famous and they could have a whole team sort it out for them.

You were trying to fit all of the equipment in the back of the van, always a game of tetris. You’d even taken off your signature high-tops, as much as you loved them, that weren’t exactly the most flexible of shoes. You had to talk to him, really talk to him. You couldn’t stand not talking to him for much longer.

“Hey,” you said to him as you were going back and forth with boxes and cables and cases, but it came out more like a question. Matty hummed in response, matching your cadence. “I…have news…”

“What? You’re pregnant or something?” He joked. You loved to see him laugh with you.

“No! God no!” You laughed. “Do you think you’ll ever get out of here?”

“Wilmslow?” He asked. You nodded. “I hope. One day. Why? You thinking about leaving?”

“I’ve got an offer for a film school in Brighton.”

“Oh my god!” He answered. “That’s amazing! You should go for it!”

“You think?”

“Of course! If you think this’ll be your ticket, you should go for it. And yeah, it’s far from home and all that, but there is nothing stopping you from visiting us all!”

“I guess…I’m going to Brighton!”

“It’d be nice, at the seaside…You could get a tan…”

“Yeah,” you answered. “It will be.”

It felt like a weight off your chest. Being alright with Matty. You’d found a spot somewhere between friends and nothing that was comfortable. You would engage in light chitchat, small talk, and anything regarding creative endeavours, but nothing else was on the table. If he wanted to know how Chris and the rest of your family was doing, he could ask them, and likewise.

You felt content. Happy, even. You were settled in what you called ‘your life for now’. You had friends, your health, and you were on the road to university in just a few months and you would live a life that you were proud of. You’d have no idea it would all come shattering down with a simple private message.

Justine McIntyre

hi! i have a question?

You were intrigued. You did a quick scan of this Justine’s profile. She just seemed like a normal girl your age from Cardiff. She probably knew Dylan or something, maybe a friend he went to school with or something.

hellooo wats goin on??

Immediately you a response. Almost faster than you think any person could type.

how do you know dylan?

You typed an answer.

hes my boyfriend. r u a mate of his?

Ping! An answer that shocked you to your core.

hes MY boyfriend!

omg that cheating cunt!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer, your hands were shaking too much to make any sense. Your vision blurred and it felt like a vice was around your throat.

You closed your laptop and got under your bed sheets. And you just cried. You couldn’t fathom it, the first guy to ever like you and make an effort, and it was all an act. You let out silent sobs, tears flowing down your face and onto your pillow. You could’ve been just crying and staring at the ceiling for hours.

It was late by the time you’d gotten so dehydrated that the tears had no option but to stop. It was dark outside and the rest of the house sounded quiet; at least from what you could tell in your disconnected state.

You put on your shoes, grabbed your keys, and left your room. You needed fresh air, you needed to think.

You weren’t even thinking of being scared of walking alone in the dark. It was like your brain turned onto autopilot as you walked. You kept going over everything, every action, every sentence, every kiss and more, in your head. How much of it was real?

You knew after a while that if you stopped, your legs just wouldn’t start again, so you kept going. And going, and going.

A familiar house came into view. Surely Mr and Mrs Healy wouldn’t mind a case of light breaking and entering. You’d yet to meet them, but from what you heard they were lovely and understanding people. You quietly opened the gate into the back garden. And lo and behold, the light of the shed was on.

You knocked on the door, and after hearing a faint ‘what is it?’, you opened it. Though it was like something was stopping you from crossing the threshold, so you stood in the doorway. It took a couple seconds for Matty to react. He was lounging on the small sofa, guitar in hand and notebook and pen in front of him. 

He looked up at you, he knew something was wrong the second he laid eyes on you. He quickly stood up and approached, when you just crumbled into him, sobbing all the way through. And he simply held you while you cried, a comforting hand firmly rubbing your back.

“Tell me what’s happened,” he said as you began to calm down.

“He has another girlfriend…in Wales…he’s cheating on me…” You answered between sniffles. Matty didn’t say anything, just enveloping you in an even tighter hug–if that was possible. “How could I be such an idiot?”

“You’re not an idiot. He is,” he answered. “You did nothing wrong…”

You began to actually feel at ease in Matty’s hold. You could breathe again.

“Do you wanna…” He pointed behind his back. “Come inside?”

You nodded and he finally let go of you. You walked inside and settled on the sofa. You tried to take a peek at the notebook, but Matty closed it and put it off to the side before you could see. All you noticed was a very short title scribbled at the top of the page.

“Not finished yet…” was all he said before going back to fiddling with the guitar, random little riffs he was coming up with. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

You sighed. “A girl messaged me on MySpace, asking how I knew him, so I told her that he was my boyfriend, and then she was like ‘what? He’s my boyfriend’, and I just…” You put your head in your hands, trying to stop the tears from brimming again. “Then I walked here.”

“You walked?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, darling…” He put the guitar down again–gently–and pulled you into him. It felt like a new home for you there against his chest. “I’m so sorry…”

Somewhere in the cosmos, the fates were looking in on you; as you were pressed against his chest, looking up at his sorrowful face, you had a choice ahead of you. You couldn’t take it. You wouldn’t take it.

You quickly moved from his grasp, mentally kicking yourself for even thinking about leaning in, and finally kissing him–after a year of friendship you were so close to throwing it all away. It would’ve been a dumb, rash decision that you would regret once you calmed down. You thought long about it in the past, you knew Matty’s feelings on the matter. But it just wasn’t right, you couldn’t kiss someone else while you were in a relationship–no matter the worsening condition of it.

You sat a good foot away from Matty and told him everything. Really just unloading on him–though he was happy to be on the receiving end. You couldn’t help but go on a long spiel, explaining how hurt you were, how the first time you trusted someone enough to let them in, they just had to hurt you anyway. You told him about your childhood, growing up with separate parents, that you promised yourself you wouldn’t let yourself get into a position like your mum, alone raising two kids after their dad ran out on them for greener pastures. 

It was so cathartic, you’d never told anyone how you felt about it all–not even Chris, your one confidante who understood how you felt because he was feeling it too. After it all, you let out a big sigh, a weight was off your chest.

“Do you want some advice?” He asked.

“If you’re giving it out.”

“You can’t keep hurting,” he started. “You have to cut off this pain at the source.”

“Dylan?”

He nodded. “You need to tell him it’s over.”

“I know…”

You began to think, to plan. You decided it was best to do it in person. You wanted to look him in the eye and really talk to him. And you just couldn’t act before that, you had to treat your life like he hadn’t done what he did. You wouldn’t stoop to his level, you wouldn’t act on your urges, no matter how much it seemed like the universe was begging you to kiss the boy across from you.

You spend most of your time in hiding. Secluded to your room while you thought everything over. Dylan had still been texting you like normal, you answered in short, curt sentences but he didn’t seem to notice. 

You broke the news to Chris, to which he gave you a hug and called him a prick. You begged him not to tell your mum and stepdad why you two broke up, you didn’t want either of them to kick off. On the first evening of your solitude your baby brother, Luke, gently knocked on your door and shuffled inside your hole of a room.

“I want you to know I would never cheat on a girl,” he said.

“Thanks, mate,” you answered, not moving from your spot under your covers. He was a sweet kid, and he always knew what to say to make you feel better–as best he could.

You got a message from Ross, saying he hoped you were okay–he was quickly becoming a comfort to you, someone who you could rely on–indicating that either Matty or Chris had spilled the beans.

You didn’t speak to Matty. You couldn’t speak to Matty. There was so much running through your head, you couldn’t think straight. After an entire year of friendship, you were convinced you were happy with just that, but simply watching him, looking at the photos you’d taken at small gatherings and gigs, it made your heart flutter–more than Dylan had ever done. You just didn’t know what to say. You probably typed up a thousand messages explaining how you were feeling, what you were going to do. But in all honesty, you just couldn’t put a name on the pain running through you. You wished you could take a several-day long nap and you could wake up and all your problems would be solved for you. All you knew you had to break up with Dylan, that was obvious. 

Part of you was hoping it wasn’t real and she was just some weirdo who wanted some attention–even though this Justine was posting photo after photo with Dylan and his friends, and they all seemed very chummy with each other in the comments. You couldn’t help but read each and every one of them, each giving you another stab to your heart. You managed to get a train ticket down a couple weeks ahead. You just had to wait.

For now, you tried to keep yourself busy. Films, music, your own personal projects. It wasn’t working all that great, but you had no other option. You tried to immerse yourself in your favourite films, comfort movies you would save for rainy days or when you were sick.

You sunk further and further into your mattress on one particularly hard day, Dylan hadn’t answered any of your messages–something that you used to not bat an eye at, an often occurrence, but now you could only imagine what he was getting up to. You were under your covers, it was getting warmer outside but you didn’t mind the thin sheen of sweat over you if it meant you could be cosy. You were watching one of your favourite movies, Alice In Wonderland, you loved the colours, the needlessly nonsensical dialogue, and the all-over plot. It was the perfect movie to get lost in, you’d loved it since you were a kid.

There was a knock at the door. You figured it was someone in your household bringing you a cup of tea or just asking how you were going–normal procedure over that past couple days. You called out a small ‘come in’ and the door creaked open. The mop of hair you were desperately trying not to think of was standing at the precipice. 

“Hey, Healy,” you said, trying not to notice the jump in your chest.

“How are you, kid?” He asked, quickly walking to sit on the edge of your bed.

“I’ve had better days.”

He chuckled, turning to see what was playing on your small TV that sat on top of your chest of drawers. “Wow! Alice In Wonderland! I haven’t seen this since I was…little.”

You patted the mattress next to you–almost on instinct–and he got the idea, kicking his Vans off and shuffling to lay next to you, a position you had become quite familiar with on your occasional movie nights together.

You were trying to watch the movie, but you couldn’t with all your focus on Matty’s breath. In and out, in, laugh, and out. His arm rested on top of your duvet, your leg underneath it, your skin felt like it was tingling, almost like frostbite.

Eventually, you weren’t even watching the movie, just his face as he laughed at all the antics on the screen. You could see just a little bit of stubble in patches across his right cheek, his front teeth were just a little crooked, his eyes were the kind of brown that was so deep, you wanted to take a dive into them. You noticed things you hadn’t seen before. He was becoming more and more of a person in your mind, he was real.

A shock of terror ran down your spine as he locked eyes with you, a smirk at catching you staring. You didn’t say anything, just quickly whipped your gaze back to the film. You heard a small, breathy chuckle from beside you, drilling a hole into your mind.

Deep breaths. No tears. You’ll be okay. You told yourself over and over on the train ride. You could feel your entire body shaking with anxiety, including your internal organs…somehow.

You heard your phone ping, a text. It was your mum.

hi sweetie! sorry i couldnt get out of work to drive you. were all here for you xox

You smiled at the message. You didn’t exactly tell your family why you felt the urge to go see your dad for a random weekend only mere weeks before you would be on summer break, but they could infer. Your stepdad had given the biggest, most comforting hug you’d ever gotten from him at the train station, and a reassuring, “we all love you.”

As the train hauled to a slow stop, your heartbeat got faster. Some of the passengers on your carriage began to get up and get ready to go on with their lives outside of this metal tube–in the slow kind of way that hopefully by the time they were ready, the doors will have opened. But not you. You brain was going at a million miles a minute, going over all the things that could go wrong, including but not limited to accidentally punching him in the face, finding out a close family member of his had just died, and of course, finding out that he wasn’t cheating on you and it was all just a big misunderstanding. Though now you just wanted it over, you’d convinced yourself it was the best option. You were getting ready to go off to uni, you needed some time to grow and so on.

The doors opened and you knew there was no escape, you just had to face it. You grabbed your bag from the rack above your seat. 

You saw your dad standing not far beyond the entrance of the station. Without even thinking about it, you were bounding towards him, engulfing him in the biggest thing imaginable. You hadn’t told him much of what was happening, just that you really needed to come down to Llandough and quickly.

“Shall we head off then?” He asked, to which you nodded. “I thought we could get pizza for tea, we can pick it up on the way.”

You always loved visits with your dad. Now almost a year on from your first trip to see him, you’d fallen into a routine, and he always knew how to make each time you saw him special.

You spent the evening trying to distract yourself. Pizza and old movies with your dad. You quickly learnt that he was as much of a cinephile as you were. Boxes and boxes of DVDs and VHSs surrounded his office. Everything from the top action blockbusters, to obscure documentaries, he loved it all.

You settled into the sofa for the evening, pizza box on your lap and cheesy garlic bread on a plate on the coffee table in front of you. It was your dad’s turn to choose a film that night–you’d been taking turns picking, he went for a movie from when he was a kid, a murder-mystery, ‘Murder By Death’. You tried to savour the night as best you could, knowing there’d be suffering tomorrow.

With every step closer to the park, your breathing kept getting more and more shallow. In a dream world, you could turn right around and run back home. But you had to do this, it wouldn’t be fair to go on like how you were. 

You thought for sure that Dylan already knew, this girl must have told him. And if you heading down on such short notice wasn’t a clue that there was some kind of urgency, you didn’t know what was.

You saw him sitting under a tree. Your tree. Though now you supposed you could be content with just calling it his.

Once he saw you approaching him, he stood and met you in the middle. He gave you a half-hug and a kiss on the top of your head. It caught you by surprise at just how awkward and forced it all felt. Was it always like this? You sat down on the grass next to him. He was smiling at you, you almost felt like the bad guy here.

After some chit chat, how you were both doing and whatnot, you thought it best to get down to business.

“I…got a message on MySpace,” you started.

He hummed and nodded intently.

“It was from this girl…Justine.”

He sighed. “I know…”

“So what she told me was true? About you?”

“Well what did she tell you?” What kind of game was he playing here?

“She told me that you’re a cheating rat, that’s what.”

He didn’t reply, and kept avoiding eye contact by playing with the blades of grass between his fingers.

“What the fuck is your deal?” You didn’t realise how much anger was suddenly bubbling up. “Why did you do it?”

“What? Like you’re not fucking Matt back home?”

You scoffed. “I would never do that to-to someone I trusted! Someone I loved!”

“Don’t act like you never even thought about it, love, I’m not blind.”

“What if I thought about it? I have-had you! You were it for me.”

“Listen…” He shuffled and grabbed your shoulders, finally looking you in the face. “It was never gonna work out with us, you knew that.”

Tears began to form in your eyes, you were speechless.

“How could it? We’re hours apart from each other…we see each other like once a fortnight…And we’re about to go off to uni anyway, don’t you want to experiment and all that?” He continued.

“Why did you start this in the first place then? If it was going nowhere?”

“Because it…was fun? It’s not like we were gonna marry each other.”

“So you cheat on me.”

“I guess…”

“I would say it was nice knowing you but…this is the worst another person has ever made me feel.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly.

You got up to leave. You really had nothing else to say to him, you thought.

“Just one more thing,” you started. “Did she break up with you too? For cheating on her?”

“She did.”

“Good,” was all you could say. 

You walked as quickly as you could back home. It was the kind of walk where you felt like if your legs stopped moving, they wouldn’t start again, so you just kept going; inside the house, up the staircase, and to your “bedroom”, before collapsing onto the bed in a flurry of tears and sobs.

After a few moments, you managed to calm down. You thought it was probably just the shock of it all. The realisation that it was real. You were cheated on by your first boyfriend, and he broke your heart. 

You couldn’t help but replay that last conversation, everything you said to each other. You were surprised at just how well you held it together, and at an admission you made–something you hadn’t even thought about much.

You’d never quite confessed it, even to yourself, but it was the truth. At times, you’d fantasised about Matty. You’d heard the stories, you knew what kind of guy he was, and it intrigued you. 

Sure, anytime you’d made any kind of physical contact with him it sent a shiver up your spine, and yeah, you’d felt a pang of jealousy when he’d talk about any other girl. But you would never act on it, you’re in a relationship–were, you were in a relationship.

And last you knew, he liked you, and you knew that you liked him, and there was nothing in the way of stopping you from…acting on it.

Suddenly you couldn’t wait to get back to Wilmslow.

You got back on Monday morning–you were pretty much finished with all of your college projects so you knew it was fine to miss a day. Chris was gracious enough to drive all the way to the station to pick you up. You two made light smalltalk on the way home, fighting over the radio station and pointing out the paddock of horses on your way home–you felt normal and actually mentally alright for the first time over that weekend.

You spent the day in your room, surrounded by your creature comforts. Slowly you could feel your heart come back together, piece by piece.

There was still one issue, glaring you from the corner of your vision. You tried not to focus on it. Him.

You needed…to get your head straight, you needed some time to not think with so much pressure. You called the first person who came to mind with the thought of ‘no pressure’.

“What?” He picked up within two rings.

“George! Are you busy?”

“Um…Not really.”

“Would you wanna…” How do you phrase this? “Go somewhere and get high?”

“Yeah,” he answered, very nonchalantly. “I’m supplying?”

“Please, I’ll pay you back.”

“I’ll be right over.” And he hung up.

Very soon, you could hear the sound of a clanky, old engine outside the front of your house. Then your phone rang.

“Hello?”

“I’m here,” he said. You could feel his apprehensiveness through the phone.

“I’ll come down in a second, we can go to the park or something?”

“Okay, yeah, sounds good.”

With a loud announcement to the rest of the house of your departure, you were out the door and into George’s car–a small Toyota that had an overwhelming smell of weed and was in desperate need of a vacuum.

After some quick directions on how to get to the small paved area in the park that you’d sat at, getting high with Matty. Matty.

George lit a joint he got from the glovebox, taking a couple puffs before handing it to you–now getting comfortable, sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat.

“So…” He started. “What’s up?”

“Well-” You exhaled. “I broke up with Dylan.”

“Good. He was a dick!” He laughed.

“He was a bit, wasn’t he?” You joined in on the laughter. 

“We-uh-all got bad vibes from him.”

“Like what?” You couldn’t get over how cathartic it felt to speak to someone the way you were, a real friend who you could actually be honest with.

“Take it from a guy-” He gestured to himself. “He didn’t seem…invested. In you.”

“Yeah…” You had to agree, given the circumstance that led to the end of the relationship.

You spend so long just chatting back and forth, even when the weed ran out, the conversation didn’t. It felt good to find…an equal, a friend without any pretences; you barely felt any anxiety in talking to him, it all just came so naturally to you.

It was beginning to get late, you had to get home for dinner. So George drove you back home with a friendly farewell, and you went to sleep that night just a little easier with the relief of getting a lot that was weighing on you finally off of your chest.

You exchanged cordial texts with Matty over the next couple weeks, but you didn’t see him–the band hadn’t had a gig all that while so you weren’t quite forced to see him. He knew your position–now single–and it would only be a matter of time before you would be in the same room again. You were curious on how he would react, how he did react.

You wouldn’t have to wait much longer, Ross was having a little get together for his twentieth birthday, just the guys, you and some other close friends.

It felt good to get all dolled up and ready for a party again, living in seclusion had its drawbacks at times, you were yearning for some social interaction. Chris drove you both there, but not before a comment from him about how it was good to see you up and about.

Ross’ house was thumping with bass inside, you could see some familiar faces around the living room, as well as some of his family that you politely greeted and told your name with a firm handshake. It wasn’t long before you settled in the back garden in a circle of the “kids” your age, passing round fags and light chatter.

Somehow, at some point of the night, Matty ended up next to you. You said a polite “hi” to him, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. You’d never felt like this before, this anticipation.

As the evening ticked onwards, the drinks flowed more and more. Without thinking much on it, you found yourself leaning onto Matty’s shoulder. Eventually he put an arm around you to steady you, but you only used it as an opportunity to lean even further.

“You alright?” He asked in a whisper, not audible to anyone else in the group over the music and admittedly loud, drunken discussions in front of you.

“Yeah, tired,” you answered.

“D’you want me to take you home? Not had a drink in a while.” He pointed to the empty beer bottle on the floor next to him, it had been sitting there for a couple hours at least.

“Can we go back to your house?”

“You wanna do that?”

“Yeah. I know I do.”

In a flash, you’d said goodbye to the rest of the party, in his van, and back to his house. At some point in the short drive you’d gotten the giggles, and now Matty was desperately trying to shush you to keep you from waking the entire house up.

After stealthily–as stealthily as you could–making it up to his room, you took off your trusty boots and practically launched yourself onto his bed. It was soft and smelt like him, you were in heaven.

“Do you want some toast?” He whispered. You fervently nodded. “Okay, just be quiet and stay up here.”

You did as you were told. Sitting on his bed and just taking in the room, you’d never been in his bedroom, let alone his house, before. You smiled at his bookshelf, mostly full of books you’d never heard of before, and then a small stack of DVDs to one side of it, all recommendations you’d given him. You saw not one, but two guitars sitting proudly in one corner–an acoustic and a dark red electric. Soon enough, the door let out a miniscule squeak, notifying you of Matty’s re-entry.

“I made you two slices, one with butter and one with jam, I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“Thank you,” you answered, taking the plate and resting it in your lap.

Matty sat down next to you and just watched you eat, though you were a little too preoccupied in trying to figure out if the jam was strawberry or raspberry flavoured to notice.

“Could I…” He started, a cautious hand out in front of him. “Pinch a piece?”

You let out an enthusiastic hum and held out the plate to him, he opted for a butter-y piece. You were surprised at how relaxed you were, it all felt natural, just eating toast in silence.

You finished the plate and placed it onto his nightstand.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you answered. “I feel more…sober now.”

He laughed. “Good.”

“I never actually properly told you…” He looked confused. “I broke up with him.”

“Yeah…”

“And I’m single now.”

“I figured.” He was acting so nonchalant.

“So if something were to happen with someone else, it would be okay.”

“Do you want something to happen?”

Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought, because the next words out of your mouth would never happen without some kind of liquid courage.

“I wouldn’t have asked to come back to his place if I didn’t.”

With that, he launched towards you and then his lips were on yours.

[oldmanenjoyer]

Greetings old man! before anything thank you for doing my last request! IT MADE ME SO HAPPY!! 🌶️❤️ anyhoo, enemies to lovers Pepperman x sassy reader! Be sure to rest, no rush at all!

You’re a fellow artist, somehow always in the same sphere of influence as Pepperman. And he. Hates. You.

Because you’re good at what you do. And you’re so bright and charming. And you make him blush (him! blushing!) whenever you shoot him a smirk.

It’s steep competition, one no one but you both are watching. Sometimes your paintings win awards or are bought for more than his, sometimes it’s vice versa. But you’re always there, always ready with a quip and a wink and a smirk that drives Pepperman up the wall.

He hates you. He hates that he likes you so much.

Because your art really is something. And for all his dislike of his rival, he likes hearing you talk about your art. It’s all a part of you, your soul barred on canvas or in stone, something he understands and relates to personally.

You’re the only one that sees art the way he does. And your mind is so vast! So creative! He wants to no more, but also wishes you’d walk into the sea.

“Well, well, well,” you drawl, seeing the Pepperman himself stalk into your studio, “look what we have here. Finally want to buy some decent art, hm?”

“Your delusion is amusing.” Pepperman snaps back at you. You just smirk. “No, I’m here to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

“Oho? A chance to kick your ass?” You snicker at his sputtering. “Been there, done that.”

“No!” Pepperman says, so very frustrated. You make things so difficult for him! He’s blushing again, and he knows you’re aware, and he hates both you and himself for it. “No, I am trying to be cordial and invite you to paint with me at my villa! Maybe teach you a thing or two about decent art.”

Your brows shoot up, eyes wide and face slack in genuine surprise. Seems you weren’t expecting that to be his offer.

“Oh? Paint with you?” You pause, gazing up towards the ceiling as you ponder such an offer. “Would you be the muse?”

Pepperman stammers. “M-me?”

“What? You get to paint yourself but I can’t?”

Why do you make him melt so? “W-well! I-I suppose a good muse is key to a good painting!”

“Then it’s settled.” You wink again, turning back to your painting. It’s nothing but a hodgepodge of colors, but Pepperman can see potential. As much as it kills him to. “See you then, little artist.”

Pepperman fumes the whole way back to his villa. But he knows most of the heat on his cheeks isn’t from anger.

[oldfashionedmorphine]

🔀 Byler again lol!!

ps, i cheated with this one a tiny bit cause the first song shuffled was bubblegum bitch by marina and i wasn’t feeling creative enough to make that work lol… maybe if i’m feeling super silly someday, but not right now ;)

but with this second song, i present to you…

An au where Will has been holding back his feelings since he was fourteen, watching Mike through relationships that seem to only make him miserable—in another life he knows he could make him infinitely happier…

Except now that they’re about to embark on a new chapter in life—going off to college in different states—Will finds he can’t hold back the truth anymore…

Edit: A more polished version is now on ao3!!

————

we shouldn't wait another day

Dear Mike,

I feel like I’ve been lying to you for years now. How many times have you asked me if I have a crush on anyone or asked me if I ever loved someone and I’ve told you no? Because every time you asked me, I’ve lied to you.

The truth is, I do like someone. In fact, I’m in love with them. I have been for some time.

And it’s you.

I never planned to tell you. I expected to take that secret to my grave, but soon we’ll be moving on from this shitty town and what if I never see you again? I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I never once let you know how I’ve felt. The worst you can say is that you don’t feel the same. And then we can laugh about it later and move on with our lives.

But I just had to tell you one time and if there’s even the smallest chance you could feel the same, then meet me tonight at sunset near the fallen tree at Lover’s Lake.

If you don’t show, then I’ll know your answer and we can just forget about it. No hard feelings, I promise :)

Love,

Will

————

The final bell rang out—high school was officially over. And as they left their classroom for the last time, Will stops Mike before they reach the parking lot. He had kept the letter in his pocket the whole day, unable to give it to him until just now. Because it was now or never.

“Um…” Will sways nervously, knowing the moment he hands the letter to him everything changes, but he has to do it—he needs to. “This is for you.” He holds the sealed envelope out for Mike. “Just don’t read it yet…wait for me to walk away first.”

“Okay…” Mike takes the letter from him with furrowed brows.

“You’ll, uh… understand when you read it.”

Mike eyes the envelope curiously and nods his head. “I’ll see you later though, right?”

“We’ll have to see about that…” He can feel his face flushing. “I really gotta go.” Will spins on his heels and tries to walk away as fast as possible.

El was waiting for him by their car—he was more than happy to toss her the keys because there was no way in hell he could drive the damn thing home without crashing them into a pole because he was too flustered.

————

Ten minutes until sunset…

The air was warm and the sky was painted in vibrant orange and pinks and reflected perfectly on the still waters of the lake.

Maybe it was over the top—no, it definitely was. There was no guarantee Mike would even show up and yet Will had laid out a whole picnic a few feet away from the shore—a blanket with a basket of food and he even lit candles in jars and holy fucking shit what the hell was he thinking—this the stupidest idea he ever had.

And only time would tell if it was worth the money he shelled out—he’d been working at Melvald’s on the weekend with his mother, so he had a little to spare.

It was nearly sunset too and his heart was racing and he was pacing. This was a terrible idea. What was he thinking? He never should have said anything. This is so embarrassing. Mortifying. He’s never going to be able to look Mike in the eye again after this. It’s a good thing he’s heading off to college in two months because if he had to face Mike after this, he’d die on the spot.

Remember…worst case scenario is Mike doesn’t show up and you just have to avoid him and everyone else for the rest of the summer. No big deal—it’ll be fine.

It’ll be fine.

It’s fine.

He keeps pacing back and forth—carving his path in the sand.

This is so stupid, he’s not coming.

Will checks his watch again, five minutes to sunset—he’d be here by now. Will stops pacing, looking over at the setting sun and feeling that sting of rejection. He should’ve known better. Not allowing himself any sliver of hope…

“Hey.”

The word sent an electric shock through his body. He turns around to find Mike standing with his hands in his pockets. Will takes a shuddered breath. “H-Hey.”

“Did you really mean everything you wrote? It’s… it’s not a lie—not a joke?”

He nods. “I meant it. Every word.”

“And you’re sure?” Mike didn’t seem convinced.

And then it occurs to him that maybe Mike doesn’t believe him since he did tell him in the letter how he lied for years about who he liked, “Yes…I promise…I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

Mike nods, taking a breath. “Okay…” And then he watches him remove his hands from his pockets and walk towards him with purpose and a fire in his eyes.

It could have been from the shock of it all, but Will stayed as still as a statue as Mike approached him until he was no more than two inches away—so close he could feel the warmth of his body. Will didn’t even flinch a single muscle as Mike placed his hands on the sides of his face so he could lean in for a kiss. But then Will melted into it and he wrapped his arms around Mike, he didn’t want to let him go.

He was kissing Mike—how was this possible?

Deep down Will really thought that nothing would actually come of the letter. That Mike wouldn’t show up and he’d simply sit all alone at the edge of the lake until the candles burned out and then he’d have to learn to let his feelings die along with the flames. That’s what he was truly prepared for…

Only that didn’t happen. And now Mike was kissing him. And he was kissing Mike—his heart wanted to burst out of his chest.

Mike was first to break away from their kiss, resting their foreheads together. But when he moves his head back a bit, Will can see tears trailing from his eyes.

“I lied to you too, Will…”

“What?”

“I never told you how I really felt either.”

Will’s eyes go wide.

“I never thought I could actually tell you the truth…‘cause I thought it was just me who felt like this and that it’d make things too weird if I said anything…so I settled for saying it every other way instead…but I’ve always wanted to tell you…”

“Really?”

“Yeah…you’ve always made me the happiest—more than anyone.”

They share another kiss, nearly losing themselves in it this time, but eventually they come up for air and by then the sun had completely set and the only light left was provided by the small candles flickering away inside the glass jars.

Will takes Mike by the hand, pulling him over to sit upon the blanket, and then they talk and laugh as they enjoy the sandwiches, snacks, and sodas he packed. And in the end, they find themselves laying down, gazing up at the stars while they hold each other close and staying this way until dawn…

————

tagging:

@daydreams-in-the-moonlight @magentamee @boahey

(might actually post this one to ao3)

[lieslab]

Hi!! So I’m starting to lose my passion for singing and it’s like the only thing I’m passionate about, but I’ve also started to get insecure about it too. If you’re still doing requests could you do one with seungmin where he doesn’t now the reader can sing and doesn’t now the reader is insecure about it. And he unintentionally helps you through your insecurity. If that makes sense. If I need to explain it better I can.

Also just wanted to say i love your page and your writings!! <3

Ahhh, I know what you mean. I used to have this relationship with writing. I had an incident with a creative writing teacher where he crushed everyone's dreams by saying the mass majority of us would never be real authors. As a fourteen year old who wanted to be a published author one day, it stung and crushed my heart. For an entire year, I stopped writing.

As you grow up, your passions are allowed to change and they probably will. When I was younger, I was passionate about cake decorating and used to binge watch baking shows on Food Network and then it switched to the medical field. (Grey's Anatomy had me believing I would be an amazing doctor, but I get too overwhelmed easily and don't have it within me to perform surgeries) Eventually, I gave up on that too.

I got back into writing and started to write fanfic as an outlet. Am a published author? No. However, I've created my own little community. I get to talk to a diverse amount of people and it seems like I'm always learning new things from everyone. Plus, my writing has grown along with me. I've just recently started to become a bit more confident in my work.

The point is that things are always changing and there's nothing wrong with that. However, if it's your only passion, sometimes people can experience burnouts. We live in a world where creativity overflows and when you see a ton of people having success, it's easy to become insecure and to start doubting yourself.

To this day, I was and still am like that occasionally with writing. I only get to see my work through my own viewpoint. I have no idea what it's like to other people. For you, it's probably the same way. You hear your own voice constantly and you have no idea what it's like for other people to experience it.

However, we still have the potential to grow. There's always more to learn, more skills to develop, and more life to live. If it makes you happy, but it has turned into insecurity, maybe temporarily go on a mini break. Perhaps, you could respark the passion by watching things like documentaries about singers and diving deep into their journeys.

I'm not a singer, I'm not good at singing, writing is where I think I shine the best. I have no idea whether you want to pursue singing as a career or what, but here's this: 3RACHA being the geniuses behind Stray Kids

it's a YouTube video that someone made with multiple clips of 3racha doing what they do best. Despite me being a writer, sometimes when I struggle, I find myself coming back to this video. There's something so inspiring watching other people's drive and passion. To be so passionate about something and so fiercely determined to make your dreams come true and have your passion bleed into other people, it's incredible.

Every artist goes through waves of doubt and insecurity, it's natural. I mean, we are still humans after all. If it's truly something you enjoy and wish to pursue, I'm sure you'll find yourself coming back to it. Just keep trying your best <3

As for the drabble, I can do that. I can so totally do that. I'm going to write it down and hopefully, it'll help. Thank you for requesting it!! <3

[noonaishere]

Ateez - Newark, Nov 27

So we stood out in the rain for like an hour, but someone had a Goncharov poster:

So it was basically okay.

Actually, we were soaked by the time we got inside, and, it seemed like they let us in late.

My sister went with me and noticed there were a lot of dads there with their kids: “I feel very at one with these dads right now.” *pretending to holler to one that’s a bit away* “Hello there! Do you like to fish? I-- don’t like to fish, it makes me sad.” Me: *laughing*

This was the jacket I spent SO much time on and even learned to screen print for:

(The big on is the one I screen printed, points if you can figure out what it’s a mashup of. I bought the chain one, and I painted the others with a paint marker and it died while I was working on them -_- Truly, Kim Hongjoong should have blessed my Poscas before I started lol)

(PS: I’m planning on opening an Etsy store and making that the first print to sell)

(I made the HALA HALA tag under the lacing on the left, and the “1117″ in roman numerals under the star patch, I bought everything else. That “01″ tag actually lights up, idk why I didn’t turn it on for the picture)

Anyway, I wore that and a red plaid shirt underneath as my outerwear, which was good because I wasn’t too cold outside or too warm once we got inside, and both dried off relatively quickly (and having two layers meant it too a while for me to actually start feeling how soaked I was getting. It didn’t rain rain, but we were outside so long that we were soaked by the end of the hour standing there)

I saw the elusive LED people:

So rare to see one, free in the wild, much less three! Extremely exciting.

Then we saw the babies perform. Very proud of them. Their songs were good and they were very polished for still being trainees (but I think I read they’re supposed to debut next year, so that makes sense). I think Hunter might end up being my bias.

Then they played like three Ateez songs in a row and everyone sang along, until the music fizzled and cut and the lights went out, and even the Lightinys went out (the 2.0 are so cool) and we got a lore dump in Korean and English presumably (from everything other lore bit I’ve seen) from the viewpoint of the Oppressive Government, or the Android Guardians.

(Can someone PLEASE hire me to do the localization of their English text? Please? Because, yes, “crack leads to pain”... but that means something a little different in English.)

(It is, as the kids say, “whack”)

The the VCR from the World: Movement promos

(I just really like the lights in this one)

Then a bunch of very mysterious hooded figures came out. Oooooh, such mystery, very secret.

(Don’t go near the dog park)

(Trying to creatively crop out this guy’s arm that was SO FAR into my field of vision the whole night that it was not only “not even funny” but also “driving me to violence”)

(Then they went into a vortex, but I missed it by like a second)

(Listen... I love red, and I love San.)

Park Seonghwa is the prettiest man on the planet and I am going to throw myself into the ocean because I can’t deal with it. And Yunho is so handsome that every time his face was on the screen I thought “Wow, he’s so handsome” as if it was the first time I thought it.

“MAKE SOME NOISEEEEE!!!!” (I love you, San. I’ll make all the noise you want), polar opposite of Yeosang, who just stood there placidly as we screamed.

Hongjoong, waiting patiently like a stern teacher or something as we all screamed. Wooyoung laughing at us.

I do not remember what Jongho was saying here. Mingi, like... I love him because his face and height make him look so big and mean but he’s just a big mush of a princess. (Also, this boy’s lips... I better be careful before I start writing smut fic again 👀👀👀)

(Another shot where I just really loved the lights)

You can see on the screen that for HALA HALA (my favorite song in the whole catalog, I’m so happy they performed it) they had it go back and forth between being the current footage, and them as Halateez. I’m assuming they filmed it a few days ago or something, but some of coreo was SO spot on I was wondering if they had deepfaked the costumes or something lol.

Break that spine, Sannie, who needs it!

I need the VCRs from the concert. For lore purposes.

Mist. Everyone giving 110%

More San because I adore him

It’s my favorite thing when one of them is talking and the others all start holding their own mic up for him. My favorite idiots lolol

Jongho tried to grill Hongjoong if he knew the name of his first OST (and the Lightinys would have turned blue if he was right), so Wooyoung grilled him back about why he didn’t text him on his birthday. Seonghwa and Yunho enjoying the mess (Yeosang tried to leave because he ALSO didn’t text him but was captured and acted like he didn’t know what was happening lol)

At some point my sister leaned over and was like “Who’s the dramatic one?” “The dramatic one? They’re all on stage performing, they’re all dramatic.” “No, the dramatic one.” Me: thinks. “Do you mean the one doing all the high notes?” “Yeah. He’s dramatic. I like him.”

My sister went from non-fan to Jongho stan lol.

Me: “See? They’re pirates.” My sister: “Huh”

Lil starry Cromer action

I got the very end of the Cyberpunk San Slutty Dance Move, so I’m happy. (I thought I missed it since I was trying to watch it with my eyes and not my phone. It’s a little hard to hold a Lightiny and a phone at the same time.)

One again: Park Seonghwa is the prettiest man on the planet; once again: I am in the fucking ocean about it. Hongjoong: “Don’t like sexy too much”, also Hongjoong: *flirting*

Hypocrite.

Okay, but San is LEVITATING in the background? I was too busy looking at Mingi’s body rolls that I didn’t even notice until I uploaded the picture lol, wtf.

This is my favorite picture I took all night. I sent it to my friend @cant-fight-kyrumption​ and she sent me this:

And now I can’t unsee it.

(I also, don’t know how I forgot about it, I LOVED those vines lol)

We were side Cool, and we screamed a bunch and they changed the Lightinys colors lol

I love him your honor

Had to make a part 2 because tumblr kept shitting itself.

Tagging some peeps: @sayaramarz, @hecalledhimhyung, @moonbinnie0983​, @ositoblancito​, @goldenchunkycat​, @leagreenly​

[kinocomix]

untitled project devlog 8: themes, and pain

At first, when I said I wanted to discuss the themes of my project, I thought that maybe there would be some convenient article, book or philosophy deep dive I could reference, which does not seem to be much the case, seeing as how my approach to themes is very personal. so… here’s some thoughts.

In case it’s not abundantly obvious by now, the story features a band and music quite prominently. One of my original elevator pitches for the comic was “think metalocalypse meets bandslam, but with the scope of Ernest et Celestine and the presentation of a black and white Wes Anderson film” which is the vaguest shit ever and I’ll eventually get my head out of my ass long enough to stop worrying about spoiling the story. My point is: the act of being creative is at the forefront of the story. What drives it forward is something I won’t mention in this series, but a lot of ideas emerge when you decide to write something as personal as making art. Things like purpose, belonging, self worth, expression, communication, validation are things that every artist or musician deals with quite regularly and no story about creativity would be complete without them.

The first post ever made to this blog was a webcomic name fancomic that, looking back, isn’t bad but remembering the reason why I made it is what makes me cringe. I wanted attention. When I started making art I expected to be famous in 100 days. literally, I wish I was exaggerating. 

In every artist’s journey with art, they reach the point where they realize that the only things really worth pursuing are the things they’re passionate about. Sometimes this is drawing commissions, other times people do commissions to keep themselves alive. A lot of times, the art people are passionate about barely gets any attention at all. It's a fact that a lot of creatives secretly know that people who get successful doing something they love are very lucky. 

It takes maturity to be happy for people and proud of their hard work as opposed to being an envious child but that doesn’t mean we don’t secretly want success as well. If I could have enough dedicated readers to make my comics for a living but never be famous I’d do that in a heartbeat. Every big shiny thing is destined to accumulate dust, I don’t want to be a big shiny thing, I want to be a reliable hill you can trust to be there year after year. It took me a while to get to the mindset I work with today. 6 years might not feel like a lot when you consider the insane careers some artists had, but as far as people go 6 years is a lot. I graduated, finished a book, worked on 2 short film productions that have both won awards (one of which for my sound design!!), moved house, freelanced, started a stable job, been to therapy, gotten an operation, nearly lost people, been through an explosion, an economic collapse; and I think that’s just the stuff I’m remembering off the top of my head. 

Finding documentation and sources about this kind of stuff is pretty difficult because this is not what gets publicized about media. However, if you pay enough attention some similarities start to appear.

The manga Berserk is pretty famous for its elaborate artwork and story. It doesn’t really need an intro and I’ve been told I need to read it which I plan on, but that’s not the point right now. As you may know, Kentaro Miura, the author and illustrator of the manga passed away in 2021. For fans of the series, while very tragic, this wasn’t all that surprising. The dude doesn’t fill in black. he crosshatches everything. An admirable feat, which makes you thankful that a friend of his, Kouji Mori, decided to finish making the manga after he passed away. 

Many other manga share this. Vagabond by Takehiko Inoue, has been known to frequently go on hiatus. So has Hunter x Hunter by Yoshihiro Togashi. A lot of times, an artist’s undying faith to their work is because of how passionate they are about it, the people involved in making it or even the audience. I forget the exact interview this is from, but Linkin park has gone on record for saying that sometimes they need to consider the audience. you see them always excited to talk about how experimental their music is, which is great, but when you know someone’s on the receiving end of what you’re making, it’s bound to make you think a bit differently. 

This video of George RR Martin and Stephen King chatting kind of outlines the different approaches they have to writing. One of the most iconic quotes is “how do you write so fast?” Spoken by Martin. Now I’m not here to talk about Game of Thrones, trust me I couldn't care less but it does bring up one point worth talking about which is inspiration, discipline and what that has to do about your malleability as an artist.

This is the trailer for H.E.R.A., one of the short movies I worked on as a sound designer and general handyman. It was written and animated by my friend Alaa Fleifel with the help of some wonderful fellow artists and animators for some of the scenes. Alaa and his studio Phat Chik are an example of what I’m talking about.

pictured: Alaa. 

When I talk about being malleable, I don’t mean that in the X-men mystique “I chameleon my way around the world” school of art though that can work in some cases, sure. What I refer to is one’s ability to keep making their art. During the production of H.E.R.A., there were at many points obstacles that would have shot down most movie productions. The sound designer had to prioritize staying alive so he had to unfortunately quit the project midway. Alaa had to juggle a fulltime job, commissions and a rapidly decaying economic system that meant most clients didn’t want to pay well anymore so he had to outsource some of the background art and scenes to friends and animators that he paid out of pocket. The production timeline lasted a year and 8 months, most of that time was spent patching up the team in the background. Working on H.E.R.A. taught me that there is no project in existence that is the result of one human being. Everyone has at least one person to give them advice, someone who goes “hey, I know a guy” and very often that is not just one person. When band line ups change, it’s sometimes treated with an air of disregard.

“oh, it’s just the drummer”

“it’s the rhythm guitarist, their job is pretty easy anyway”

Had Alaa waited around for inspiration or permission to make his film, it would have never happened. Sure, a lot of why we get to watch the absurdist sci-fi acid trip that is H.E.R.A. is due to some luck and connections, but a lot of it is also due to a rejection of the notion that inspiration is what primarily fuels creativity. 

So what does that say about the story? usually I find it helpful to present my themes in the form of questions, so here’s what i’ve been able to come up with:

Who does art/music belong to?

How much of the soul of art and music gets lost in translation? 

How do you balance making stuff for yourself and an audience once you have one?

How much does inspiration really matter?

I need to be honest with you about something. 

I’ve been kind of avoiding talking about the more… personal themes at play here.

it’s not because I don’t know what they are, really. They just come from a place of deep discomfort and humiliation for me. I’ve obviously become a much different human being over the course of my 27 years on the rapidly traveling rock in space but it’s never not weird for me remembering the dumb things I did or said growing up or while I was finding my footing as a writer. There are entire projects and dozens of pages of things that I threw out the window before I felt confident enough in something to be able to share it. there’s a lot of fucking up you do while growing up and not surprisingly, I feel more comfortable seeing my weird feelings in fiction than I do laid out in bullet points in a devlog. So I promise you this:

the people in the story are going to be human. Faults, warts and all. The only thing I ask of you is to know that while those warts are real, they are not mine anymore. Every day that passes, I grow a little bit more, and maybe at some point I’ll grow tall enough that the light trickling through the trees will feel safe enough to fly.

Merry Christmas, and may every year bring a little bit more sun.

Devlog updates on tuesdays. 

[archiveikemen]

Abe no Yasuchika Main Story: Chapter 6

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting┊aikm’s Genjiden Glossary

A few days later—

Yasuchika-san and I paid a visit to the woman who sent that living spirit. 

Yuno: You’re all better now. I’m so happy for you! 

Woman: Thank you so much, Yuno-san… and Yasuchika-sama…

Yasuchika: You’re welcome. I don’t see traces of the ayakashi anymore, so I guess you’re good to go. 

The woman was too weak to move when she first woke up, but now she was able to go for a walk outside after eating proper meals. 

(Looks like we won’t have to come back to their house anymore.) 

Yasuchika: I’m going to do the usual ritual today, let’s make this the last one. 

Yasuchika: Your body and soul are well now, so you don’t require anymore spells. 

Woman: Alright! But… if the ayakashi comes again… 

The woman only has vague memories of being a living spirit and attacking Sanemitsu-sama as a nightmare. 

Yasuchika-san told her that his spell called the “Ayakashi Repellent” would prevent ayakashi from bothering her again. 

(He told a white lie for her sake.) 

Yasuchika: If you do what I taught you in the morning, it will keep those evil things away from you.  

Yasuchika: You surely look like the type of human they’d be drawn to, so why not make it a habit? 

Woman: Thank you so much. I will continue to do so even after leaving this place. 

Yasuchika: That’s great. I wish you all the best. 

The father and daughter pair seem to have a close bond, and they have decided to move to another area together. 

(It’s all thanks to Yasuchika-san that they have the money and will to move on…) 

Yasuchika: Happiness is always the most important thing. 

Yasuchika: Those things take advantage of negative emotions. 

Woman: … Yeah. From now on, I’ll take good care of my father, start over, and live a blissful life. 

Yasuchika-san nodded with his usual unreadable smile… 

(He looks like a trustworthy and highly capable Onmyōji.) 

After we bid the father and daughter farewell and left their house…

Yasuchika-san and I were walking side by side. 

Yuno: You’ve worked hard. Thanks to you, I’m sure they’ll be happy from now on. 

Yasuchika: I don't know about that. 

Yuno: What?

Yasuchika: All I did was set the stage for them. 

Yasuchika: It’s up to them how they want to live their lives, and whether or not they want to be happy. 

I was hesitant to respond, because I noticed that Yasuchika-san’s facial expression seemed rather dark. 

Yuno: — Even so, I still think that you did a wonderful thing. 

Yasuchika: Really? You’re making me shy! 

(... You’re acting as if you don’t know what I’m talking about.) 

I still can’t tell what Yasuchika-san is thinking behind that pasted-on smile… 

Yuno: I’m an apothecary, so I prescribed her some medicine to help her feel better physically.

Yuno: But it's not within my capabilities to heal people’s hearts and help them move on from bad experiences. 

Yuno: At first, I thought that an Onmyōji’s job was to drive away evil and perform divinations for powerful people. 

Yuno: But now I realize that I was wrong. You protect the weak and give them guidance… 

Yuno: I wish I could do that for people too.

(I want to be able to heal hearts, just like Yasuchika-san.) 

(I guess I still have much to learn as an apothecary and as someone who possesses fox powers.) 

Yasuchika: — Aren’t you praising me too much? 

Yuno: You think so? In that case, I should observe you more closely and try to understand you better. 

Yasuchika: … You have very strange hobbies. 

I couldn't hide my smile when I finally saw a human-like expression on his face. 

(— I don't understand everything about him.)

(I hope I’ll gradually understand him more.) 

Yuno: Now that I think of it, since the living spirit thing is all over now, you can… 

Yasuchika: Oh, yeah. Return to the capital? 

Yuno: That means that my time as the Prodigious Onmyōji’s assistant is over… 

(I can’t get to know him better if I’m not by his side.) 

Yasuchika: Yuno-san.

Yuno: Yeah? … Ah.

Yasuchika-san suddenly placed his hand on my cheek. 

He tilted my chin upwards to look at my face, and a seductive mile formed on his face.

Yasuchika: Are you feeling lonely because we’ll be separated? 

(... He interpreted that in a weird way.) 

I was frustrated with myself for getting upset, just like he wanted me to. So I responded out of spite.

Yuno: … Yes, I’m lonely.

Yasuchika: You’re so honest.  

(Ah…) 

Yasuchika gently stroked my hair.

Yasuchika: I’ll feel lonely without you too. No wonder we’re so compatible. 

(Is he mocking me…?) 

Even though I thought that he was, the heat rising beneath my skin didn't seem to cool down. 

(But we will never be able to talk to each other like this anymore.) 

(— There was another time when I thought the same thing.) 

…

Yasuchika: Father-in-law, please entrust Yuno-san to me. 

Tamamo: I don’t remember allowing you to call me father-in-law. You can’t have my daughter. 

Yuno: What are you two talking about!?

Yoritomo: We’re serious. 

That evening, Yasuchika-san made a request to Yoritomo-sama. 

And so—

Morinaga: Are you serious about taking Yuno with you to Kyoto…? Yasuchika-dono.. 

Yasuchika: Of course. 

Yasuchika: That’s my reason for approaching Yoritomo-sama since day one. 

(What.) 

When I stared at Yoritomo-sama in shock, he gave me a nod. 

Yoritomo: What he just said is true.

Yoritomo: On the day he asked for you to become his assistant, he told me in the evening that he also wanted you to eventually go to Kyoto with him. 

Yuno: And he only told you, Yoritomo-sama? 

Yasuchika: Eh? It was because you were still wary of me back then, Yuno-san.

Shigehira: The way he did that was vicious. 

Kagetoki: They’re nasty for wanting to get rid of their obstacles through this method. 

(He’s right that I would’ve refused if he had asked me that day.) 

Yasuchika: Don’t praise me like that. I hate it.

Yuno: Um, anyway, what’s your reason for wanting to take me with you? 

Yasuchika: I want you to continue helping me with my work, but using your fox powers this time. 

(...!) 

Yuno: To get rid of ayakashi? 

Yasuchika: That’s right. I remember telling you that only some ayakashi venture out into smaller towns… 

Yasuchika: The big city of Kyoto is more likely to attract ayakashi because of the nature of its land, and the amount of resentment amongst the locals. 

Yasuchika: Onmyōji mitigate that problem by periodically setting up wards around the land. 

(I see…) 

Yasuchika: But recently, these wards have been falling apart, so there's an increased number of ayakashi roaming around. 

Yoritomo: To begin with, I’ve already told you that you won’t get anywhere if you don’t win Yuno-san’s trust with all this weird stuff going on with ghosts and whatnot. 

Yoritomo: Yuno. How do you see Yasuchika? 

Yuno: How I see him… 

I gave Yasuchika-san a perplexed glance. 

Yuno: I think that Yasuchika-san’s capabilities as an Onmyōji are… very cool.

Yoritomo: That's all? 

For a brief moment — an image of Yasuchika-san’s empty facial expression that made him look as if he were balancing on the borderline between life and death flashed across my mind. 

Yuno: I also think that he’s someone who knows many things about this world that I don’t. 

Yasuchika: …

Yuno: I want to go to Kyoto with him. 

Yuno: Because I want to become stronger and make my fox powers meaningful. 

Tamamo: Then I’m coming along with you. 

Yuno: Tamamo! 

Tamamo: I’m the one you have a contract with, so there shouldn't be any problems with me coming along to help you, right? 

Tamamo: What. 

Yuno: W-What? 

(I’d feel a lot safer with Tamamo around.) 

Yasuchika: Tamamo-cchi, have you forgotten what happened that time? 

Yasuchika: Those big-shots who ordered your subduction were scared out of their wits. 

Yasuchika: The capital is now off-limits to the demon fox! 

Tamamo: And how is that any of your business? 

Yasuchika: It may be alright for you, but do you want Yuno-san to get dragged into the mess? 

Tamamo: Yasuchika, are you threatening me?

Yasuchika: I wouldn't dare do something so reckless. 

(Ah…)

Their tone and facial expressions remained the same — but I felt the room temperature plummet. 

Yoritomo: That’s enough, both of you. 

One sentence from Yoritomo-sama was enough to break through the tension. 

Yasuchika: Anyway, there are other reasons.

Tamamo: Oh?

Yasuchika: Despite losing most of his powers, Tamamo-cchi is still a powerful demon. 

Yasuchika: If such a huge entity like him enters the capital, there will be trouble with replacing the wards. 

Yasuchika: It won't be troublesome for me, but it will be for other Onmyōji! 

Tamamo: Piece of shit. 

After a little more discussion — I decided to go to Kyoto with Yasuchika-san.

Yasuchika: Thanks! Yuno-san, we’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning. 

Yuno: Tomorrow!? 

(As whimsical as ever.) 

Yasuchika: Sorry, but can you come to my room? I need to tell you about the details of our journey. 

I visited Yasuchika-san’s room after the meeting as I was told…

Yuno: That surprised me.

Yasuchika: Sorry! Sorry! 

My protests completely fell on deaf ears.

Yuno: You should really make your thoughts and feelings more obvious.

Yuno: Is there anything you haven't told me? 

Yasuchika: Hmm

Yasuchika: Ah. 

Yuno: There is!? 

Yasuchika-san reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. 

(Ah…) 

My heart started going crazy at how close we were while he played with my hair. 

Yasuchika: What if I lied about wanting you to help get rid of ayakashi, just so that I can get close to you? 

[unifox]

PTG as Owl City Songs Pt.2

Part 2 is here!!! I'll repeat myself

IMPORTANT: This is purely out of my imagination, I do NOT know how the ptg members are and their true personalities. This is how I perceive them through the content they provide us on social media. Also, the songs interpretations were mine. They might not be what the artist intended but how I understood them.

None of the pictures are mine! Got them on Pinterest

happy reading! and maybe listening too ~Foxy🦊

Pt.1 | masterlist

Yanan

The Tip Of The Iceberg 

Cute, heartwarming and a bit fairy like, like Yanan. Like mentioned in other members, each song has its own unique traits just like the Pentagon members. Yanan and this song are no exception. Also, the title also fits the situation quite well, since the tip of the iceberg is always just a small part of the iceberg and theres a lot to discover under the water, and Yanan with his shy personality also has a lot hidden behind what he actually shows us. 2023 me - the songs also says how some actions are just the tip of the iceberg of things the protagonist would do to get back their loved one, and it also fits well with the relationship of universe and pentagon with Yanan. Even being away from him for so long, we’d do everything to see the boys together again.

Gold (2023)

Yanan is gold. The song tells about someone who is gold, someone who might not see their whole potential even though they are it. For the longest time as a Universe I saw Yanan being like this and slowly starting to become more confident as the years went by. Yanan! You’re gold, so shine forever! Also, CONGRATS ON 1st PLACE YANAN S2 YOU DESERVE IT

Yuto

Up All Night 

I really don't know but this song fits Yuto. Maybe is the beat that changes and shows many styles that reminds me of Yuto, of how he looks like something but acts as something else. The song is mysterious and beautiful and thats really Yuto. Its cute but serious and the guitar part... definitely something that fits Yuto. Also, just like Yu, this song has a special place in my heart. “I just can’t get you off my mind, now I’m gonna be up all night”

I'm coming after you (2023)

I’m not sure why 2020 me chose this song bc she didn't write anything, maybe it was the instrumental? I think the bass in the song gives off Yuto vibes. It’s a lightweight song that seems almost theatrical to me. “Woo woo woo- I’m coming after you” The siren sounds seem fun and something that cute and the rest of Mayonnaise would add to their songs haha

Kino

Plant life 

Kino has a flower aesthetic so why not? The song is really artistic and that it would suit kino's style if he danced to this song, or even sang it. Both are gentle, creative and majestic, showing a really unique kind of power, that feels almost magical. The lyrics also has Kino's vibes to it. It’s full of metaphors and pretty sounds (I think it’s my favorite owl city song)

shooting star

Kino is a shooting star! Like the song, he seems like the type of person to encourage and support others whey they feel down or tired. Kino is comfort to others, someone really precious and kind. “So shine no matter where you are tonight”

Wooseok

Dreams and Disasters 

The image this song makes me think of is always a young couple, careless and fun, driving in a road in the middle of nowhere. This free-spirited style remind me of maknae Wooseokie. The upbeat melody and free-spirited lyrics fit Wooseok who is young and seem adventurous. “I wanna feel alive forever after”

Strawberry Avalanche

I don't know exactly why, but i guess pink Wooseok fits this. Another fun and cute song that fits shy Wooseok. I have this image that Woo is a pretty cute and gentle 2m tall boy and the scenario created by this song would fit him well. 2023 me- The song sounds soft and childish and I feel like behind the serious aura and appearance that wooseok has, there is a gentle and dreamy person there.

Pentagon

Good time

I don't really think I have to explain, but here I am anyways. Ptg is such a fun group. They are all very unique and display their individual charms throughout their journey. Every time we see them it's a good time, doesn't matter what they are doing. They turn the most normal things into something fun to look forward to.

Embers

I feel like this song talks about hope and, as cliche as it seems, pentagon simbolizes that to me. "When its all said and done, we'll shine like the sun so don't let the fire die." It simbolizes well the groups history and it works for their fans too, since seeing their journey Universe might feel inspired to just keep going too. It’s like Eternal Flame!

The Technicolor Phase

Support. Another word I think of when it comes to Pentagon. Thought the song you see how the lyrics say how they’re the support, how they are there to accompany wherever you are. “I am the green in the grass, That bends back from underneath your feet (...) I am the black in the book, The letters on the pages that you memorize” Pentagon and their songs are there for the fans whenever and wherever, it’s what keeps us entertained, hopeful, happy… you name it.