#Music is my entire being and if I can’t help someone else feel that way what am I doing with my life

[cashandandrogyny]

I need to make music you don’t understand. If I don’t I will explode. I need to sing. I need to play. I need to play complicated piano melodies. I need to bang the drums so hard my arms hurt. I need to play the craziest guitar riffs that I get lost in. I need to play the bass so much my fingers fall off. I need to sing until it turns into screaming. I need to get lost in the music. It makes me feel alive for the first time in years. I want to make people feel the same way I feel. I want to write songs that move people to tears. I want to write songs that the outcast kids can scream in their bedroom. I want to write songs that make u think. I want to write songs that make the voices go quiet. I want to inspire people to make music as much as I’m inspired to make music by my favorite bands. I want to write those riffs that just get stuck in ur head. I want to write those harmonies that give u the chills. I want to write those bass lines u feel in ur soul. I want to write music that u can just put on and get shit done to. I want to write music that makes u stop all ur doing to listen. I want to write songs that make some people happy and some people sad. I want to write music that makes people feel less lonely. If I don’t do that then I wasted my life because if I feel this strongly and have the gift to create music, what’s the point.

[gracieheartspedro]

an: hiii lovers! this is the first year I'm doing this! I have been compiling my favorite fics this year and wanted to list them all out for you! there's a wide variety of characters here, so I am organizing them that way. just note, I am not putting all their warnings as all these fics have their own warning lists. please don't read anything that'll make you uncomfortable.

all these fics are smutty. I am a bit of a whore.

also would love to say that these may not have been written this year, simply just ones I've read this year!

happy reading <3

Joel Miller:

bitter by @pedgito - a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret

cherry thrill by @hellishjoel - your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity.

Homemade by @gutsby - While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

The Hills by @honeyedmiller - drugs. sex. fame. joel miller—the very man you despise. something about hollywood or other. it all seems to become a blurred line when you get invited to an oscars after party at a house in the hills.

Dirty Laundry by @pedgito - you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

Brat (the entire series) by @shellshocklove - joel is having a brat summer.

The Right Kind of Wrong by @myownwholewildworld - your car breaks down and you make a deal with your dad's best friend, joel, who happens to be the best mechanic in town. you'll work for him over the summer holidays to pay your debt back, but maybe you can find a pleasant shortcut to it?

October's End by @salingers - a filthy halloween night with your dad's best friend, joel miller.

that's the way road dogs do it by @joelsdagger - on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past.

wherever you stray, i'll follow by @cavillscurls - Joel resents the choice to allow an unmated omega into Jackson—until he’s the only one who can help her feel at home.

absolution (the entire series) by @pedgito - Moving in with your soon-to-be stepfather under the roof of his brother, Joel, ends up being a turning point of change in your life.

positions by @hellishjoel - You and Joel mutually pleasure each other while “researching” porn. 

hook em (series) by @joeloverture - trying to get back at your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you right into the arms of his coach. you plan on staying there for a little while.

Dave York:

let them feel by @guiltyasdave

Notes On Tutoring by @honestly-shite - Mr York becomes your new classical guitar tutor in your final year at music college. A dark, mysterious man, you struggle to get a read on him but that doesn't stop you from finding many ways to push his buttons. You manage to infuriate him with your stubbornness and forced complacency but there is definitely something else too. There's a pull that you feel whenever he is near. You wonder if he feels it too.

Javier Peña:

Unscripted Desire (the entire series) by @gothcsz - you’re a camerawoman that shoots pornos. javier peña is the pornstar you can’t stand. why is it that you’re always so affected by him?

When in Positano by @honeyedmiller - honeymooning in italy with your husband is a dream, especially when he reveals he wants to start a family with you.

three's a crowd by @amanitacowboy - you hadn't been with a woman for years, but for javi? you would do anything he asked and more

helping hand by @mrsmando - you and javi take a bath together.

Marcus Acacius:

Acta Non Verba by @myownwholewildworld - scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all.

Shadows of the love under the laurel by @stylesispunk - In the shadows of the Roman Empire, you, a devoted servant, discover love with the honorable General Marcus Acacius. You both navigate the treacherous current of social expectations when a looming marriage comes to risk everything.

Prima Nocta by @fuckyeahdindjarin - Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Dieter Bravo:

It's Only Make Believe by @jennaispunk - What began as a publicity stunt turns into much more than you expected.

bouquet by @mypoisonedvine - being quarantined in his hotel room has dieter getting a little stir crazy, and when the drugs run out, he has to find a new vice. that's how he found you.

salt, shot, lime by @freelancearsonist - You meet your celebrity crush in a bar; he turns out to be a lot more fun than you expected.

Lucien Flores:

Mutual by @luxurychristmaspudding - you and lucien have both been invited to this dinner with explicit instructions: play nice. but it's kind of hard when you can't stand each other. even harder when the meaning begins to blur with his hands on you.

Fortnight by @pedgito - it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.

Azalea by @morallyinept - A man from your past shows up at a party and leaves you on the cusp of making a life changing choice. Do you stay, or do you leave with him?

Frankie Morales:

Listen by @luxurychristmaspudding - you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

End Up Here by @undrthelights - you’ve had a distaste for frankie for as long as you can remember, so how did you end up here?

Din Djarin:

New Perspective by @mellowswriting - teaching the infamous Mandalorian to slow down and enjoy life isn't easy. it takes planning, patience - and silken sheets apparently.

just can’t say goodbye by @saradika

Ellie Williams:

make a woman out of me by @pearlcigs - you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

too little too late by @elleloquently - " can you see me? i'm waiting for the right time / I can't read you but if you want, the pleasure's all mine "

Infiltration by @astralnymphh - your suspicious encounter has given ellie her five minutes and her knife—but can she truly measure insincerity?

Abby Anderson:

hers only by @abbyshands - gf!abby does not like clara, the gym trainer who can’t keep her hands off you. so who’s surprised when she loses her composure, channeling her rage in the form of rough, hard sex?

good luck, babe! by @studioghibelli - your boyfriend has been cheating on you. when you confront the woman he’s been seeing, she offers you a proposition.

don't fuck your coworkers by @untitledgf-pdf - you're a server and abby is a line cook

Eddie Munson:

please, please, please by @/keeryhours - Eddie is no stranger to the Hawkins legal system. It’s no surprise to anyone when he’s dragged in cuffs again, but it is unexpected when someone catches his eye - the police chief’s daughter.

COME AGAIN by @mediocredreams - When you go to your best friend for dating advice, his perverted ways come in handy.

Secrets I Have Held In My Heart (Are Harder to Hide Than I Thought) by @andvys - A weekend alone with Eddie at Steve's cabin reveals all yours and his deepest desires, feelings you were too afraid to act upon bubbling to the surface, leading to a steamy night that might change you and your best friend forever.

smoke me out by @strangerstilinski - you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends?

[jbaileyfansite]

Critics Reactions to Jonathan Bailey's perfomance as Fiyero (Master Post)

“Dancing Through Life,” on the other hand, is the adaptation’s biggest musical accomplishment. Although Wicked is primarily about the relationship between these two women, the charming prince Fiyero always threatens to steal the show, and never more so now that Bridgerton heartthrob Jonathan Bailey is playing him in a dazzling blue/gold suit. Setting this song in a library full of rotating, cylindrical shelves allows the dancers to really show off their moves, while Bailey succeeds at infusing the number with his personality as he flirts with men and women alike. Unless Wicked really hits big with the Academy, it’s unlikely that Bailey will score a Best Supporting Actor nomination at the Oscars, but surely he deserves some honor for being the sexiest actor on Earth at the moment — hope you’re taking notes for next year, PEOPLE! [x]

And Bailey, from his boot-toe book choreography to ovation-worthy gymnastics, is hoofing his way through every step of “Dancing Through Life;” there will be deserved awards attention coming Grande and Erivo’s way for Wicked, and Bailey should be as much a part of the conversation. I can’t remember the last time a performance was so instantly charismatic, the kind of movie-star heist—he nearly runs away with the film during that musical number—that makes going to the cinema so exciting. [x]

A character I was worried about going into this. Jonathan Bailey, he plays Fiyero, who is this kind of just over the top cocky, flamboyant, kind of douchey, but in a fun way character. And there’s just so much there that it could be really easy to mess up. And I didn’t know that he was into song and dance performance, because I’ve only seen him in Bridgerton, so I didn’t know what else was in his repertoire. But I feel like he absolutely crushed that character. You cannot help but love everything he does when he’s on screen. He nails it. [x]

Jonathan Bailey oozes sex appeal and charisma as Fiyero Tigelaar in an utterly swoon-worthy performance, unleashing his West End talents with the dazzling “Dancing Through Life” sequence that cements himself as a true superstar, while his chemistry with both Erivo and Grande is off the charts. [x]

I have to give Jonathan Bailey his freaking flowers. I thought he was going to be good. He got an Olivier award for Company and if you haven't, there is a video of him singing The Last Five Years from years ago….So I was like I think he's going to do a good job, he's also so charming and everybody loves him. I was not prepared to see what we got. The perfomance, the vocals, the gymnastics, the charm, the way he says 'you're perfect' is just engrained in my brain in the right way. And he's so…like he would have chemistry with a chair, I'm convinced. Everyone in 'Dancing Through Life' is now pregnant and so am I. His entire arc of Fiyero being like the daft person and then becoming who he becomes is so clear and every choice, and look, nuances he has…it is calculated but effortless. [x]

Jonathan Bailey delights in the supporting cast as her love interest Fiyero, also offering a fantastic interpretation of someone who hasn’t been called upon too often to be serious but might be willing to give it a try. [x]

“Dancing Through Life” triumphantly translates the joy of seeing Wicked live: Dancers perform acrobatics in rotating circular bookshelves, Jonathan Bailey (who I swear has chemistry with every single person on the planet) taps his way across books with a flippancy perfectly suited to the charismatic prince Fiyero, and the ensemble works (and sings!) in harmony. [x]

Jonathan Bailey uncorks an outrageous scene-stealer as the heterocamp Fiyero, a performance to put alongside Cary Elwes in The Princess Bride. [x]

Chu's usual choreographer, Christopher Scott, delivers again with vibrant, inspired moves, particularly in the elaborate "Dancing Through Life," which takes place in the school's rotating, multilevel library. "Bridgerton" star Jonathan Bailey gets a chance to show off his musical theater background here, and he's terrifically charming as the glib Prince Fiyero, the object of both Elphaba and Galinda's romantic interests. [x]

The true surprise, even more than Grande, is Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero, the charming prince with hidden depths that both Galinda and Elphaba gravitate towards. Bailey has such a light comic touch to him and his performance of “Dancing Through Life” might be the best part of the movie, and the most ambitious set piece in the film. [x]

The true standouts are three-fold, with Grande, Erivo, and Bailey embracing the tonal shifts with unbridled glee. […] Fiyero has major bisexual vibes, and chemistry with every single character. Bailey’s take on “Dancing Through Life” lets the Olivier Award-winning actor unleash his sex appeal on a library full of unsuspecting Oz-ites. [x]

Jonathan Bailey adds renegade bravado as the devil-may-care Prince Fiyero, selling the character's journey from apathy to activism with aplomb. [x]

Elsewhere, British heartthrob Jonathan Bailey steals the show as the vain Prince Fiyero Tigelaar, a love interest for both young witches. Bailey effortlessly dances and sings his way through the film’s most demanding musical numbers. [x]

It's Jonathan Bailey who threatens to steal the show though, instantly charming during Flyero's meet-cute with Elphaba. Anybody not swooning already will be with his excellent 'Dancing Through Life' number, Bailey's palpable charisma shining through the extended number which culminates in a reimagined Ozdust Ballroom. [x]

One more: Jonathan Bailey. His dashing Prince Fiyero is one charming prince, so cheeky that he will have boys and girls everywhere swooning. And swoon they do, within the film — it’s a small thing, and not to get all #RepresentationMatters about it, but I was delighted to see Wicked make very clear that both male and female Shiz students are equally lustful whenever Fiyero’s around. There are some deliciously flirtatious moments between Fiyero and some guys during “Dancing Through Life,” and it had me thinking about the fact that, for as fabulously gay as musical theater so often is, you don’t usually see that kind of thing in a massive mainstream film. Kudos all around. [x]

The standout to me: I’m going to go with Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero. He pops up into the film and immediately comes off so cocky, but so charming and likable. Just everybody he talks to, he has this fun rapport and chemistry with them, and just brings to life every scene that he’s in, whether it is just dialogue, joking, dramatic or his big dance number in the library. He’s so good. And it’s one of those things where I am not super familiar with him outside of this, and you just see him and you go - man, that guy is a star, this guy is really good. [x]

And while Wicked is all about is two leading ladies, we must spare a moment or several for Jonathan Bailey’s virile, twinkly Fiyero, who quite literally leaps onto the screen on his horse while clad in tight britches and sturdy riding boots. He’s charming in a way I never found the rather bland character to be onstage, bringing vibrancy to the role as a big screen heartthrob who tears up the floor (and library books) with his aggressive dancing. Now it makes sense that he could turn the head of both Glinda and Elphaba. A West End veteran himself, Bridgerton actor Bailey also boasts an exemplary voice – the casting directors truly spoiled fans here – and there are no exceptions made when every number is treated as a potential show-stopper. [x]

In terms of supporting performances, Bailey’s absolutely dashing and magnetic, giving a star-making performance – a la Rupert Everett’s in MY BEST FRIEND’S WEDDING. He lights up the screen as the object of romantic affection in screwball-esque scenes shared with Grande as much as he does during the library set number leading “Dancing Through Life.” [x]

Bailey is a charming Fiyero, using all of his Bridgerton swagger in exactly the right ways. He arrives well into the term, a transfer student who has reached the end of the number of schools to be kicked out of. Fiyero is sometimes treated as a throwaway character–the generically hot love interest for two girls to feud over. But this Bailey’s Fiyero will not be so easily dismissed and his “Dancing Through Life,” plays well when accented by talented professional dancers that make the entire scene pop. [x]

Then there’s Jonathan Bailey, who manages to steal the show from his very entrance. Not since Dan Stevens first showed up in The Guest, or perhaps when Glenn Powell out-cruised Tom in Top Gun: Maverick, has there been this much tantalizing testosterone employed in such an effective way. Bailey’s bravura take on Fiyero Tigelaar, the Winkie Prince who sings about “Dancing Through Life,” is by far one of Chu’s most accomplished moments of filmmaking, managing to make the character simultaneously seductive and disarmingly silly. It’s also a moment in Wicked‘s storytelling where there’s fun to be had, and the massive sequence is absolutely a joy that by far exceeds the smaller scope of the on-stage presentation. [x]

Jonathan Bailey is so very “that guy.” His Fiyero doesn’t have the foppish facade of the original. His portrayal makes us aware he’s more complex than he appears from the moment we meet him and his talking horse, but as a Prince Charming, his rizz is high. Who wouldn’t fall in love with Bailey (and who hasn’t)? [x]

Bailey as Fiyero is the ultimate casting as the Lord becomes a Prince. He delves into Fiyero’s shallowness and his moments between Elphaba and Galinda are so starkly different as Bailey plays into both relationships organically with wonderful chemistry between all three. [x]

Jonathan Bailey has a standout musical number with “Dancing Through Life,” and he manages to have chemistry with everyone on screen as the handsome Fiyero. He’s fiercely flirtatious and fun to watch. [x]

Jonathan Bailey could have chemistry with an inanimate object. That man absolutely shines in the role of Fiyero. [x]

But, it’s Bailey’s Fiyero (surprise!) who steals the movie’s second-best scene: the elaborately choreographed “Dancing Through Life.” [x]

Galinda immediately sets her sights on Prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey, bringing an outstanding amount of Kenergy to his role). […] And there are certain sequences, specifically Galinda’s signature number “Popular” and Fiyero’s “Dancing Through Life”, where everything does click together nicely and the film suddenly sparks into life. [x]

Jonathan Bailey is absolutely swoony as the flirty Fiyero. While Wicked: Part One is just the beginning of his story, you can already see how Elphaba’s impact is starting to influence him to think more of others versus being shallow and self-consumed. [x]

Jonathan Bailey‘s Fiyero is a joy to watch, and you can see in his physicality and the sparkle in his eyes who he is destined to become. Once we see him dance and sing, he sweeps everyone off their feet. [x]

Fiyero gets one of the film’s most appealing numbers, brilliantly delivered by Bailey, “Dancing Through Life”, as the dashing Prince disturbs the peace of Shiz’s library to entice his classmates to join him for an evening of fun at “the most swankified place in town”, the Ozdust Ballroom. With Bailey gleefully taking on Christopher Scott characterful, silky smooth, choreography, he goes on to offer us seductive glimpses of the more substantial man hiding behind his mask of superficiality. [x]

I can’t say the word scene-stealer without talking about Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero. Give Jonathan Bailey awards, give him every role … for being so amazing in this movie. He is just so effortlessly cool and charming and funny, but I love the heart that he gives certain moments … Fiyero just lives with me now … He enters this movie giving me one of my favourite performances. [x]

The supporting cast proves equally magnificent. Jonathan Bailey’s Fiyero exudes oodles of charisma and a strong voice, easily proving he can handle Christopher Scott’s limber choreography while simultaneously putting his own stamp on it.  While his character plays a more major role in the second film, his introduction, through the stunning “Dancing Through Life” number, leaves a lasting impression and makes for a compelling counterpoint for both leading ladies. [x]

Not to be outdone, Jonathan Bailey of Bridgerton fame plays Fiyero. The heartthrob, almost brainless hunk, who arrives at Shiz and drives so many of the students crazy with lust. Now Bailey’s carefree, but passionate, and decisive in both singing and choreography. With his signature song “Dancing Through Life”, Bailey gets to showcase some awesome footwork, along with amazing vocals, for a scene that is just mesmerizing thanks to the energy and the camera work. [x]

That said, it's BRIDGERTON (2020) star Jonathan Bailey who winds up stealing most of the scenes he's in as the Prince, Fiyero Tigelaar. Bailey is fantastic as the Prince, bringing an entertaining sense of levity and delight to the film. This is to the point that Bailey's absence in the film's finale is quite noticeable, with the film feeling somewhat dull without his presence. [x]

Elsewhere, Jonathan Bailey is charismatic as the dumb-but-charming Fiyero, and there’s a campness to his song-and-dance number, “Dancing Through Life” that will stir the loins in a whole range of viewers. [x]

One standout is Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero, the Winkie prince who quickly makes a mark on Shiz after his enrollment. Bailey is not only charming and funny throughout, but exudes an energy that many of the other supporting players simply lack. [x]

Supporting roles are strong too, most notably from Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero, full of bravado and fun, as well as a hefty dose of yearning – and fans of Bridgerton will know that no one does yearning like Bailey. His 'Dancing Through Life' is a blast but he's just as powerful in the film's quieter moments as his chemistry with Elphaba burns. [x]

As for the supporting cast, Bailey absolutely shines in his biggest film role to date. Much like Galinda, Fiyero is initially privileged and arrogant, but Bailey instils him with so much undeniable charm that you can easily understand why literally everyone at Shiz is falling under his spell. The seeds are sewn for Fiyero to open up in Part Two, but, for now, Bailey nails it as a seemingly one-dimensional hunk with hidden layers to explore. [x]

The film’s biggest strength is its perfectly cast triple-threat performers – Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba Thropp, Ariana Grande-Butera as Glinda Upland and Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero Tigelaar, a handsome prince whose subplot is best not spoiled. […] The charismatic Bailey, Emmy-nominated for “Fellow Travelers,” is known as the oldest son Anthony in the “Bridgerton” TV series, but in England, he is also an accomplished musical theater performer. He won an Olivier Award as Best Supporting Actor in a Musical for playing Jamie in the revival of “Company” in 2018. Fleet-footed and a nimble vocalist, he gives Fiyero an allure that wasn’t initially apparent on stage. [x]

Meanwhile, Jonathan Bailey channels his incredible Kenergy to bring the effortlessly charming Fiyero to the screen, with his fun take on “Dancing Through Life” almost stealing the show (someone please give him his own musical!) [x]

The same goes for Fiyero as Jonathan Bailey who makes his male lead into a much stronger character by leaning into the sobering moments as strongly as the lighter ones. [x]

Another pleasant surprise was Bailey as Fiyero. Best-known for his role in “Bridgerton,” Bailey isn’t as well-known for his singing chops, but he deftly carries one the most dazzling musical numbers of the whole show, “Dancing Through Life,” serving up both impressive vocals and dancing. Beyond his musical talent, Bailey is charming and roguish as the Winkie prince, while hinting that there’s a little more to him beyond his care-free persona. Bailey also has the unique ability to have chemistry with practically anyone he’s a romantic lead with, so he has great chemistry with both Grande and Erivo. The few, briefly swoon-worthy interactions between Fiyero and Elphaba specifically will likely have fans excited to see Fiyero and Elphaba’s relationship develop in “Wicked: Part 2.” [x]

[smilesession]

i was working at the theater last night during a live local performance of Rent; I do not have any special feelings for Rent and knew absolutely nothing about it until last night so this post isn’t really motivated by nostalgia or the sanctity of the art or anything. an entirely neutral observation:

i entered the theater during the last musical number to be ready to turn the lights on and raise the curtains, and saw an old couple sitting towards the back, and the woman was watching something on a little tablet. it looked to me at first like a zoomed-in video of someone taking a sort of grabbing-device to carpet, picking out crumbs. this bewildering nonrecognition made me keep watching over her shoulder until i realized she was watching a video under the genre Pimple Popping. it was a set of tweezers being taken to pores in skin and pulling out strings of white pus, over and over, sped-up. a without any deviation, minutes upon minutes of wormy spools of pus being pulled out of pores. onstage the performance ended and most of the crowd rose in applause. for politeness sake i applauded for the show, but my eyes kept drifting back to the woman watching the pus video. she had no reaction to the show’s conclusion and continued, focus unbroken, watching pus being extracted from skin. i shared a secret with her; no one else in the room but her and i knew this was transpiring. i was the only witness to her judgment made that this pus video was more engaging than the labors and skilled effort going on, one that she either paid to see or that a blood relative of hers was involved in. like the meme of “[thing] is boring af” where someone watches family guy clips, but in realtime in the most astonishingly and unimaginably gruesome way

for some reason this has shaken me to my core. it would have been simply rude if she was watching a tv show, reading an ebook, or texting on the device during the show. but the nature of the pus video in particular as opposed to another distracted activity is just fucking harrowing. other distracted activities, while rude, would have conveyed some sort of conscious decision-making or exertion of free will; the family guy meme example even feels like it implicitly references having free will over your circumstances. but I can’t help but see this puspulling incident as evidence that screen-use is actually and actively diminishing of free will, something utterly artificial and inhuman, actively stealing something from the cognition of its user. actively stealing their time, actively stealing their ability to be really-actually-living in the sense of a mind inside a body existing within a space where things are happening, and replacing it with pus video

[cuubism]

Do It Scared

While he's in the middle of being overstimulated and miserable at a wedding, Dream's meager attempt at finding peace is disturbed by the intrusion of a drunk man from the party across the way. But what first seems like a curse might actually be a blessing, as his new companion is inordinately charmed by Dream, anxiety and all. [Explicit]

--

Dream cradles his glass of wine between his knees, scrunched up as small as possible on the bench outside the venue door. He should have brought his coat. He is freezing. But he can’t go back in. It’s too loud.

He takes another sip of wine. It doesn’t help him feel less fried. It doesn’t help him feel like less of a drag, less of a burden, any less than the worst company in the entire world.

He takes another sip.

It’s very cold. The music at the reception pounds through the doors behind him. He grimaces.

Sometimes, Dream wishes he could be the person who could enjoy it. And not the person he is.

He takes another sip.

The doors across the way crash open. There is another wedding going on this same night, Dream remembers. A man stumbles through the doors, jacket and tie askew, trips, spilling half his glass of wine, but rights himself just before falling.

Dream watches warily. He came out here to avoid interacting with others.

The man shakes himself, straightening his tie. He must be very drunk. Dream wishes he were, too.

Then the man catches sight of Dream moping on his bench. “Shit,” he says. “Sorry. Didn’t realize someone was already sobering up in this courtyard.” He tries to go back inside, but the door’s locked automatically behind him. “Fuck.”

Despite himself, Dream laughs. At least he is not the only one who feels an utter mess.

“Well, was a shit party anyway,” the man says to himself, before slumping down onto the bench across from Dream. “Can I share your courtyard?”

“If you don’t mind me ignoring you,” Dream says.

The man laughs. “Fair enough.”

He sips his wine, what’s left of it. Closer, now, Dream takes in the dishevelment of his hair, and the red tinge to his eyes that suggests he might have been crying. Dream is curious, but doesn’t ask.

“Feels like weddings are supposed to be happy,” the man muses, more to himself than to Dream. He wipes at his eyes. “But.”

“I primarily find them overstimulating,” Dream says. He really should be better company at his own brother’s wedding. But he’s never been very good at it.

“That why you’re outside?”

“When I’m overstimulated, I begin ‘behaving like a cunt’,” Dream says, and the other man laughs, startled. “So, yes.”

Dream can barely manage his social graces at the best of times. And the best of times these are not. The mask has been filed away.

“Alright,” says the other man. “Fair enough. I can’t judge. When I’m sad I start behaving like a narcissistic dickhead. Look, I’m even making someone else’s wedding about myself.”

“Why are you sad?” Dream asks. Weddings make him feel sad, too, but he thinks not for the same reasons.

“Was supposed to get married,” the man says. “Last year. She died. Sorry, don’t think I have the story in me tonight.”

Probably for the best, as Dream would hardly know how to go about responding to it. “I can see why weddings could be traumatic,” he says sagely.

The man smiles, though it’s sad. “Yup.”

He finishes his wine, then says, “It’s Hob, by the way.”

“Oh. Dream.”

“Dream,” Hob muses. “You don’t like weddings either?”

“My complaining will be far less justified than yours,” Dream warns.

“Let’s hear it, I could use any distraction.”

“It is not just weddings,” Dream says. “Social events. They remind me. Of all the ways I am deficient.” Conversation. Interaction. Posture. Occupying a physical space. Coping with stimuli. Relaxing enough to be normal. He cannot do any of it. “I ought to dance, and. Celebrate? Should I not? But. I cannot. I. I cannot do any of it.”

How many times has he been told that he should, and now it is like a one hundred foot wall that he cannot surmount, the years of compounded expectations too great to tackle.

“Do you want to?” Hob asks.

“I don’t know.” Dream can no longer disentangle who he is from who he was told to be. From who he should be. He is trying. But. “I want to… be a person who wants to. Who can. I wish that… I was a person who could dance freely but I. I cannot. I do not know why.”

He waits for Hob to tell him he should just do it. It doesn’t come. Instead he says, “Well, if you don’t dance, at least you can sleep easy knowing your Great Aunt Ethel didn’t watch you shaking it to ‘WAP’.”

Dream bursts out laughing, clutching his wine as the liquid sloshes in his glass.

“I’m just saying,” Hob says, grinning. “I mean, I’m shameless, but I don’t blame you for wanting to keep the twerking away from family eyes.”

“There has not been any TWERKING.”

“Maybe not from you, didn’t see what I was up to.”

“I see,” Dream says, trying to regain his dignity. “You are projecting on me.”

“Would feel better if it wasn’t just me who’s a slut, but oh well.” He takes a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, and a lighter. “Fag?”

“Sometimes.”

Hob stares at him. Dream stares back. Hob holds out a cigarette to him.

Dream looks down at it. “Oh.”

Hob snorts. “I like you.” He lights his own cigarette, sticking it between his teeth, then lights Dream’s.

“I’m poor company,” Dream says stiffly, embarrassed.

Hob shrugs. “Good company’s boring as fuck.”

Dream doesn’t smoke, so he just watches Hob. His hands tucking the lighter away, then taking the cigarette from between his teeth, blowing a stream of smoke away into the night.

“Why do you smoke?” he asks.

Hob shrugs again. “Get restless. Settles my hands.”

“You ought to try fidget toys instead to avoid the risk of lung cancer,” Dream says, and Hob laughs so loud that he doubles over coughing after inhaling too much smoke.

Dream takes a tangle toy out of his bag and hands it to him. Hob stares at it incredulously. Then takes it.

He immediately starts fidgeting with it, though, so Dream considers it a win.

“What else you got in there?” Hob asks, gesturing to Dream’s bag.

Altogether too much, according to everyone he has spoken to. “Medication. Headphones. A book, though I’ve felt it might be considered rude to read it.”

Hob laughs. “Maybe. But who cares. Go on and read it if you want, I won’t judge.”

“I—“ Dream realizes abruptly that he had been about to say he was enjoying talking to Hob instead. When did that happen? That is not like him, normally he is so paralyzed by fear and confusion that every social interaction is draining in the extreme.

“I. I like. Talking to you,” he admits, grateful that the darkness hides his blush.

Hob smiles. “Me, too. Hey. Will you be missed if we get the fuck out of here?”

“So you know how long you have to dispose of my corpse?”

“My young life is too promising to be spent in prison,” Hob says, winking. “Got to make sure there’s no witnesses.”

“I doubt my absence would be noted while the bar remains open,” Dream says wearily.

Hob stands, swaying slightly, leaving his empty wine glass aside. He holds out a gallant hand to Dream.

“Come along, darling.”

So often when Dream has been called things like Darling, Sweetheart by others it has felt patronizing. But with Hob it’s… nice. Somehow. Then again, he feels Hob may be quite drunk still and may very well regret his choice of company later.

Still, Dream takes his hand.

“I do hope you don’t simply plan to take us to another bar,” he says as they make their way through the venue, retrieving Dream’s coat. “I do not think my stomach could take it.”

“Nah. Drinking doesn’t help with the sadness,” says Hob with a wan smile, helping Dream into his coat. “No. You said you were overstimulated, so a bar doesn’t really feel like the atmosphere anyway, does it?”

Dream stares at him, speechless. Hob had… actually listened to that. And not simply discounted it as nonsense.

“Am I wrong?” Hob says, when Dream is silent.

Dream clears his throat, feeling overcome. “No,” he says, at length. “Not at all.”

Hob smiles and takes his arm. And they leave the noise and merriment behind them.

-

They end up just walking along the riverside in the dark. Hob lights another cigarette—Dream will have to keep trying with the fidget toys—and Dream watches the embers flare in the dark.

“I didn’t dance much at that wedding either,” Hob says, looping back around to their previous conversation topic. “Eleanor—that’s my fiancee who died—used to love it. Just makes me sad now.”

“Would you have had a big wedding?” Dream asks.

“Small one. She wanted to use the money to go on an extravagant honeymoon instead. Said she wasn’t spending thousands of pounds feeding distant relatives mediocre steak when we could be in the Maldives instead.” He laughs.

Dream dislikes parties, and thinks this is an eminently reasonable position. “I can’t help but agree.”

Hob bumps their shoulders together, but says, “Never did get to go.”

Dream does not ask what happened, though he is curious. He does not think Hob wishes to discuss it.

“Guessing your reasons are different,” Hob says.

Dream thinks it through. “Dancing feels. Emotionally exposing. I don’t wish... to show so much of myself.” He feels tight and uncomfortable thinking about it, and wraps his arms around himself. “I know that may be foolish. And that no one cares as much as I do. I have heard it all before.”

The arguments, the convincing, the pressure, even well-meaning, serves only to make him feel more self-conscious.

He has thought, many times during their conversation, that Hob might do the same.

Hob shrugs. “Don’t have to convince me of your own feelings.”

Dream so often does have to that it has become an automatic impulse.

“I wish that it were easier,” he says, quieter. Every day, the same wish. I wish it was all easier. I wish I could just do it all normally. I wish I could. Exist. Without it being a constant trial. “That it was not all. So uncomfortable.”

“You’re not uncomfortable now, are you?”

“I am always uncomfortable,” Dream says. “But not because of you, specifically.”

“I can pretend you’re not here if it helps,” Hob says. “I don’t even see you.”

“Hob.”

Hob whirls around. “Who said that?”

Dream doubles over laughing. Hob is truly ridiculous. Dream still feels uncomfortable in his skin. But less so than he did at the reception, and that’s a start.

“Tell me honestly,” he says, when he’s straightened up. “Did you bring me out on this walk because you wanted to take me home and have sex with me?”

“Um. Would you be into it if I did?”

Dream thinks about it. It is extremely out of character for him to go home with a veritable stranger. But he likes Hob, and that is equally rare. “Maybe.”

Hob raises his hands in victory. “Not kicked to the curb yet! Thank God, I’m too emotionally fragile to be brutally rejected by you.”

“I do not think you are fragile.” In fact, he is quite charmed by Hob.

“You’d be surprised.” He seems content now, though. “Didn’t actually go to the wedding intending to pick up a cute boy. Just so you know. But I’m happy I have.”

Dream is finding himself happy about it, too, strangely enough. “Where do you live?”

“Oh, not too far. We’re heading that way. There’s a bus stop there, too, if you change your mind.”

Dream huffs a laugh, hands shoved in his coat pockets. He feels nervous at the prospect of going up to Hob’s flat. But excited, too. “You’re very considerate.”

“Just hedging my bets, really.”

Dream decides then that he will go home with Hob. He doesn’t know what will happen, if anything. But he wants to try. To be open to possibility, which he so often fails to be.

“I would like to see it,” he says.

“The bus stop?”

“Your home, Hob.”

“Oh.” Hob grins. “Good. Great. Um. Just around here.”

They eventually do make it to Hob’s building, and up the stairs to his third floor flat. Nerves ping and spin all through Dream’s body as Hob unlocks the door and lets them in. He has never been in this position before. He feels like he might be in a scene from a film, a stereotypical moment, except Dream has never been very good at knowing what comes next in the script. It’s hard to know what he is supposed to do.

He follows Hob into his flat. Lets Hob take his coat and hang it by the door, slips off his shoes. He’s wearing more formal clothes than he normally likes to, in deference to the dress code of the wedding, and feels uncomfortable, but to take anything else off would likely convey something he isn’t certain he’d like to convey. Or. Doesn’t know how to convey?

Hob takes off his own shoes, too, and leads him into the kitchen. Dream takes in everything about his flat, lived in and cozy, soft warm lighting that Dream appreciates. He never feels quite comfortable in other people’s spaces, but he likes it, he thinks.

“Do you want some tea or something?” Hob asks. Now, for the first time, he looks uncertain. He has the fidget toy in his hands again—he must have had it in his coat pocket—and is fiddling with it unconsciously.

“I—” Dream starts. Swallows hard, his throat dry. He takes a hesitant step closer to Hob. Heart pounding.

He doesn’t know why it is always so hard. It is not as though he is afraid of Hob. But he is afraid of… this moment. Of sharing it. Of Hob’s touch reminding him that he is here.

He tries so, so hard, every moment of his life, to forget that he is here, that he is part of things, tries to melt into the shadows, tries not to feel anything lest it all swallow him. People always try to draw him out and it only makes Dream want to cling to the shadows tighter to avoid being seen.

Hob didn’t try to pull him out. He just sat with him there, in the dark courtyard. He hasn’t even turned the lights on in the kitchen yet. There is only the pale yellow one on over the stove. There are still shadows. It feels safer. 

“I. I don’t want. Tea,” Dream manages. He steps in closer to Hob, and Hob lets him come, doesn’t lure him in, but lets him lure himself. Dream gets close enough that he can make out the rich brown of Hob’s eyes, the stubble starting to come in on his cheeks, his hair, messed and fallen from its low bun. He wonders what Hob sees in return, and then tries not to focus on it too much lest he get overwhelmed.

Hob’s hand comes to rest on his cheek, just above his pulse racing in his throat. “Are you afraid?” he asks, brow pinching in concern.

“Always,” Dream says, and rides the wave of it into a kiss.

If he’s going to feel like he’s shaking apart from adrenaline either way, then he might as well do so while kissing Hob. Hob makes a surprised sound against his mouth, but then takes Dream’s face between his hands and starts kissing him back.

His kiss is. Desperate. Hungry. Dream does not know how to be wanted like that. It’s terrifying. But his heart leaps. He wants. It’s so scary how much he wants. He doesn’t know how to be the one who wants.

He grabs hold of Hob’s wrists. Grounds himself, braces himself on Hob. Gasps for breath against Hob’s mouth. Leans into the burning touch of Hob’s hands. It’s all so much. It’s so much.

“I need to—” he gasps, pulling back, lips brushing Hob’s, “I need to. Relax.” A constant refrain for himself. Relax. Relax. You need to relax.

“Why?” says Hob. Dream is utterly overwhelmed and still Hob’s look upon him is all want. “I can handle a live wire.”

Is that what he is? Dream always thinks he is nothing. A ghost. A whisper. A thing consuming itself. But to Hob, he is light and danger and wild unpredictable energy. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. But he likes it better than being a ghost.

Hob’s hands fall to his hips. His thumbs stroke under Dream’s waistband, tug his shirt free, press warm to his skin. Dream shudders, heat rushing through him, starting to grow hard in his trousers, which do very little to conceal his arousal. Hob draws him close, presses their bodies together, and now he can feel Hob’s own erection against his hip.

It’s too much. Hob’s touch. Hob’s body. The air that crackles hot between them. How much he wants. Dream is actually physically shaking. His hands are trembling. The world is spinning. He actually might pass out, and he hates his mind so much.

Normally Dream would stop whatever he’s doing when he gets like this. But now the thought of having to stop is making him angry. And maybe he just needs to have it out with himself. If he needs to have a panic attack, if he needs to have a dizzy spell and faint, so be it, he’s tired of it.

“Easy,” Hob says, pulling back, taking his hands and squeezing. “God, you’re actually shaking.”

“I know.” He tries to calm the surge of anger. He knows better than to try to muscle himself into submission. He knows that fighting that electricity isn’t going to end well.

He tries to breathe. Imagines himself composed of frightened sparks. They aren’t going to go away, not tonight. But Dream knows how to survive them. He’s constructed his whole life into an elaborate grid to keep them from bursting. To keep from blowing the fragile circuit.

Just don’t be anxious. But they are a part of him. They are him. One can’t just switch off a bulb and still have its light. Just don’t be anxious. Just stop it. Just do it.

He thinks of Hob instead. I can handle a live wire.

Dream feels so tense he might start fracturing out of his body. He squeezes Hob’s hands to remind himself that he’s here.

“Can we. Take this somewhere,” he says, words measured, “that doesn’t require standing?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hob asks. It is, Dream thinks, the first time tonight that Hob has questioned him on his feelings. Normally he gets pushback on everything he says, but from Hob, only this.

“I am just. Very anxious,” Dream admits. Hob looks as though he might say something concerned, so Dream says, “Can you trust when I say that none of this is your doing? This is simply how I am.”

“Okay,” Hob says, and Dream sighs at the easy acceptance. Hob runs his hand through Dream’s hair, down his neck and back to land low again on his waist. Dream’s skin prickles in an entirely different way. “I believe you.”

It is so easy for him. To not try to fix Dream before allowing him to want this. Hob doesn’t try to bring Dream down from his anxious peak, something that wouldn’t work anyway. He lets the current run through him.

It’s so easy Dream almost feels he doesn’t have to fix himself.

Hob brings him over to the couch, sits down and draws Dream into his lap. Dream straddles his thighs, breath shaking. He’s still trembling, but he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to get up. He wants this, this singular, terrifying moment.

Hob unbuttons his shirt with steady hands. Helps him out of it. Dream undoes Hob’s tie, setting it aside, then unbuttons his dress shirt, gradually revealing the shape of his body, strong shoulders, broad chest, coarse hair. He presses his hands to Hob’s skin, mesmerized.

When he gets nervous, he starts to disappear, starts to distance himself from everything around him, but this time he tries very, very hard to stay present. “Touch me?” he asks.

Hob does, hands stroking up and down his sides; kisses the side of Dream’s neck, and his shoulder, and Dream tips his head back, shivering. He is still shaking, god damn him, but Hob seems to trust him, and doesn’t stop.

His hands go to Dream’s trousers, undo the button and zipper, and Dream freezes. It’s so much, to be seen, to be touched, all his senses flying around him in a whirlwind.

He’s hidden his face in Hob’s shoulder. Hob draws him back, kisses him lightly, says, “Try something?” and Dream nods, yes, yes anything, if anyone could direct the chaos of him, he thinks it would be Hob.

Hob takes his tie from where they’d left it aside on the couch, wraps it over Dream’s eyes, tying it at the back of his head. Dream ought to feel more nervous at having his senses blocked but instead everything goes quieter. He lets out a long breath of relief.

“Better?” Hob asks.

“Yes.” Somehow. Someway. It makes him feel less seen. Even though logically, he knows this does nothing to Hob’s ability to see him. Nevertheless. The panic of his body is quieter.

Perhaps when he trusts Hob more, if Hob even wants to see him again after this, he might ask Hob to block his hearing, too, let him forget about all of it and zero in on just the sensation of Hob touching him. For now, he hovers in the middling dark of being temporarily blinded, and listens to Hob’s voice in his ear.

Hob kisses his jaw, up along his neck, biting kisses that will leave marks. Dream clutches to him. He feels he can do little but hang on. Hob’s hands to go his trousers again, and he takes Dream out, holding him carefully. Dream’s breath catches. Hob’s hand is warm and sure as he starts to stroke him, just easy and slow, letting him warm up to the feeling of being touched.

It’s so much easier with his vision gone. It’s like he’s imagining all of this in his own mind, freed of the terrifying, brilliant knowledge of its reality. He can lean into Hob’s touch, gasp against Hob’s cheek as Hob strokes him. He may be starting to dissociate but it doesn’t feel scary, this time. It feels floaty and peaceful.

Hob doesn’t seem to mind taking the lead. He brings Dream’s body higher and higher. Dream hangs on, in the pleasant darkness, overwhelmed. Eventually he hears Hob undoing his own zipper, and his breath catches. Hob takes his hand, brings it down, wraps Dream’s fingers around his length.

Dream holds him gently, cheek pressed against Hob’s, breathing shallowly. Everything is heightened without his sight, every detail of Hob’s body, the precise weight of him in Dream’s hand, the heat of him, the slickness of pre-come at the tip. His heart thunders in his throat as he strokes Hob, as Hob’s hand wraps around his, shows him the rhythm at which he likes to be touched.

“You are so beautiful,” Hob says in his ear.

“I would say the same, but,” Dream says, and Hob laughs, delighted.

“Don’t have to say anything at all.”

He presses Dream closer by the small of his back, arching Dream’s spine, so Dream’s cock is rubbing against him. Wraps his hand around them both at once. Dream moans at the touch, the slide of his body against Hob’s stoking fire within him, so much more vivid than when he touches himself. He’d thought Hob would want… more of him, but this is good, this is comfortable, and safe.

Hob slips his hand under the waistband of Dream’s trousers, palming his ass, bringing him closer, closer. His grip is sure and possessive. Dream falls into his touch, his knowledge, his acceptance.

He’s getting close. He tucks his face into Hob’s shoulder, breathing hard. Hob must sense it, he strokes them harder, faster, crushing their bodies together.

Dream bites down hard on Hob’s shoulder as heat rushes through him, hips jerking into Hob’s hand, utterly overcome as his orgasm races through him. Hob yelps at the press of his teeth, but then laughs. He laughs so easily.

Dream is still floating but feels when Hob’s hips stutter and he comes, spend spilling over their hands. His chest heaves under Dream. Dream takes peace in the rhythm of his body. The strength, sweat, surety of him.

Dream comes back to himself, slowly. And immediate is the rush of embarrassment. How could he—

He kisses Hob’s shoulder where he’d pressed his teeth. “Sorry.”

Hob’s chest rumbles with laughter. He pets Dream’s hair. It feels delightful. Dream wants to lay his head down in his lap and have it never stop. “Don’t worry about it. Just surprised me, is all.” He whispers in Dream’s ear. “I’m more into it than you know.”

“Oh?” Dream is… intrigued.

“Mmhmm.” He nuzzles Dream’s cheek. “You liked the blindfold.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

Dream wonders what’s going through his mind, though he expects, if he sticks around long enough, he will find out.

“Feel better?” Hob asks.

Dream is not so shivery now. Not so utterly keyed up. Electricity spent. “Yes.”

“Good.” He touches Dream’s belly, where his come had landed. “This is going to get uncomfortable quick. Come on.”

He helps Dream up. Unties the tie from around his eyes. Dream almost wishes he wouldn’t, but he doesn’t want to walk into a wall, so he allows it.

When it’s gone he’s met with Hob’s gaze on him, and it’s so indulgent and adoring that he immediately wants to hide away again, take back the blindfold, put on his shirt, before his heart races itself into a early grave. But Hob takes his face between his hands before he can turn away.

Words tumble from Dream’s lips before he can think them through. “Have you... been with anyone since your fiancee passed away?”

Hob’s expression turns sad, and Dream feels bad for asking. “Few one night stands here and there. Nothing that really mattered. But this.” He leans his forehead against Dream’s. “I don’t know, Dream. It feels like it matters.”

The words are like pure restoration washing through him. “I feel the same,” Dream says, with a breath of relief. Of course, he does not have one night stands to compare it to. This is not a thing he has historically done. But still, it feels significant. That he even wanted to feels significant. The way Hob handles him feels significant.

Hob smiles, and kisses him, soft, shallow, but sweet. Far too adoring, Dream thinks, for what he understands a one night stand to be. It utterly terrifies him. He leans into it anyway.

“Come on,” Hob says when they part. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dream follows him, hand in hand, messy, exposed, ever-nervous, but strangely, at peace.

[milkoomi]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ a guide to building confidence ᝰ.ᐟ

confidence doesn’t come easy when we live in a world full of standards that we feel like we have to follow and uphold. let go of those standards and focus on you and what you want for yourself.

let’s begin !!

ᝰ.ᐟ posture

your posture might be one of the first things people notice about you! so stand up straight, bring your shoulders back, and lift your head up high! having good posture isn’t just good for your back, but it’ll also make you feel more regal, classy, and come off as more confident.

people always tell me that they love how i hold myself, and part of that is thanks to my posture! i walk into any room with my head held high and standing tall because i want people to see that i hold myself to the highest standard and i want to feel that way too!

ᝰ.ᐟ maintain eye contact

this is a hard one, for me at least. it’s something i’m still practicing! but being able to maintain eye contact not only shows that you’re engaged in a conversation, but also shows that you aren’t afraid to communicate with whomever you’re speaking to!

i’m neurodivergent, so eye contact is not one of my strong suits, but what’s helped me in conversations is to look at the person who’s speaking while i listen and once it’s my turn to speak, i’ll maintain eye contact for short periods of time as i talk and then gradually continue to keep the eye contact going! it also helps if you look at one of the eyes of the person you’re speaking to and focusing on that rather than their entire face!

ᝰ.ᐟ speak up

for my soft spoken babes out there, you are allowed to get a little loud! if you’re someone who tends to hear “i’m sorry, what?” or “i can’t hear you” you gotta speak up! as someone who was told that all throughout my younger years in middle/high school, i got tired of it really quickly, so i started to raise my voice a bit whenever i spoke. now, i’m not saying you have to go out and start yelling at people, but just use a bigger voice whenever you talk!

it also helps to articulate your words more! mumbling can be a sign of anxiety or insecurity, so be clear with your words. speak with clarity!

ᝰ.ᐟ be, unapologetically, yourself

when you start doing things because you want to or because it makes you happy, you start feeling so much better about yourself. immerse yourself in things you enjoy rather than what people say you should enjoy. live for yourself, play by your own rules, and stop succumbing to what other people want from you!

get that hair cut, dye your hair that color, wear those clothes & accessories, do your makeup how you want to, get into the hobbies you’ve been dying to enjoy, listen to the music that makes you feel good! be your most authentic self!

ᝰ.ᐟ dress to impress yourself

to go off of that previous point, it’s important to wear what you feel the most comfortable in! wear what makes you feel good and makes you feel like the best version of yourself!

don’t dress for anyone else but you! you should be the only one you’re trying to impress! if you feel great in the clothes you decide to wear, then keep wearing them! find a style that you feel like you would absolutely devour in!

ᝰ.ᐟ learn to accept criticism

“but you just said-!” hold on, babe!!! i mean this in a professional sense! when it comes to your job, career, and/or your education, learn to accept that constructive criticism from your mentors/teachers/higher ups!

i used to dread being told that there was something i needed to improve on, but it turns out that that constructive criticism helped me grow in my field, in my schooling, and even as a person. learning to accept that kind of criticism will help you more than you think. it allows you to continue to grow, to see what exactly it is that still needs a little bit of work, and with that information you can hone and sharpen your skills, your knowledge, and yourself which will lead to more personal growth! and with that growth comes more achievements, and with more achievements, the more confidence you’ll have for yourself!

ᝰ.ᐟ stop the negative self-talk

if you don’t like being put down by others, why would you do that to yourself? continuously putting yourself down or talking poorly about yourself will only continue to bring down your own confidence. the insecurities will only take over even more if you keep bringing yourself down with negative self-talk.

be kind to yourself. you should love yourself as you love your friends, family, and partner(s). you deserve kindness, especially from yourself! make it a daily goal to look in the mirror and compliment yourself the way a loved one would!

𝜗𝜚 final notes 𝜗𝜚

building confidence isn’t an easy feat, a lot of this is so much easier said than done, but if you want to have personal growth you have to put in the work towards making yourself better, and make sure you’re making these changes and going through these growths for you and not anyone else. i know a lot of us want to be treated a certain way, so start with treating yourself that way!

live and love, babe.

sincerely, juno ⭑.ᐟ

[solxamber]

Escape Route - Rollo Flamme x reader

You're stuck at a party that you frankly don't give a damn about. And Rollo Flamme looks like he would rather do anything else than be here, so you grab him and bounce.

Rollo Week D5!

The music is too loud, the room is too crowded, and the entire air reeks of expensive perfume and bad decisions. You stand at the edge of the ballroom, holding a glass of some overly sweet punch you didn’t ask for, trying to look invisible. Unfortunately, being at this stupid party is mandatory. Apparently, skipping it would have “reflected poorly on your reputation,” or so you were told.

You stifle a sigh. It’s exhausting, pretending to enjoy social events when you’d much rather be anywhere else—literally anywhere. That’s when you see him across the room: Rollo Flamme, standing stiffly near the wall, his face an absolute masterpiece of discomfort. He’s gripping a cup of coffee like it’s his lifeline, glaring at everyone in the room like they’re personally responsible for his suffering.

The sight is almost funny. Almost.

You sidle up to him, leaning on the wall next to him. “You look like you’re having the time of your life.”

Rollo doesn’t even look at you. “I could say the same for you.”

You both stand in silence for a moment, watching the partygoers dance, laugh, and chatter away like they’ve got no worries in the world. Meanwhile, you and Rollo look like two people attending your own funerals.

Finally, you break the silence. “Alright, here’s the deal. I need to leave this place immediately before I lose the last shred of my will to live.”

Rollo turns his head slightly, raising a brow. “And what exactly does that have to do with me?”

“I need an excuse,” you whisper conspiratorially. “A solid, believable excuse to bail. And you, my fellow sufferer, look like the perfect partner in crime.”

He gives you a skeptical look. “Why do I have to leave with you?”

“Because,” you say dramatically, “if I walk out alone, they’ll know I was just trying to escape. But if we leave together, we can say we’re conducting... uh...” You tap your chin thoughtfully. “A secret mission. Very important. Top priority.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s absurd.”

“Exactly. No one would question it because it’s too ridiculous to make up.”

For a second, you think he might just ignore you and stay rooted to the wall. But then, without a word, he downs the rest of his coffee in one annoyed gulp. “Fine. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

You can’t help but grin. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“That’s doubtful,” he mutters, but he follows you toward the exit anyway.

The cool night air hits you as soon as you step outside, and it feels like being released from a prison. Rollo falls into step beside you, both of you walking with the same unspoken goal: get as far away from that party as humanly possible.

“So,” you say, kicking a pebble down the street, “what’s your excuse for hating social events?”

“Do I need one?” Rollo replies flatly. “They’re crowded, loud, and pointless.”

You nod sympathetically. “Preaching to the choir. I swear, I spent half the time dodging someone who wouldn’t stop talking about their parents’ imported tea collection.”

Rollo snorts—an actual snort. You file that away as a win.

You glance at him as you walk, noticing how the moonlight softens his usually stern features. “Do you have to attend a lot of these things back at NBC?”

He sighs, pushing his hair back in mild frustration. “Far too many. It’s exhausting pretending to care.”

“Relatable,” you mutter, and he actually smirks, just a little.

The conversation flows surprisingly easily after that. You talk about everything and nothing—your shared distaste for crowded events, books you’ve both read, the unfortunate experiences you’ve had with overly enthusiastic party hosts. Rollo even lets slip a story about accidentally knocking over a punch bowl at a school banquet and watching it spill directly onto the headmaster’s shoes.

“No way,” you gasp between laughs. “What did you do?”

“Stood there and waited for the ground to swallow me whole,” he deadpans, but there’s a small, amused glimmer in his eye.

The walk back to Ramshackle feels shorter than usual, probably because for once, you’re enjoying the company. When you finally reach the dorm, you turn to him, feeling oddly reluctant for the night to end.

“Well,” you say with a grin, “thanks for being my getaway partner. I owe you one.”

Rollo shifts awkwardly on his feet, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. He clears his throat, eyes flickering between you and the ground. “Actually... there’s something I wanted to ask.”

You blink. “Oh?”

He straightens his shoulders, as if bracing himself. “Would you... consider going out with me sometime? Officially, I mean.”

You stare at him, caught completely off-guard. Did Rollo Flamme just ask you out?

The vulnerability in his expression is subtle, but it’s there—hidden just beneath his usual seriousness. And honestly? It’s kind of adorable.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Are you saying tonight wasn’t already a date?”

His ears turn the faintest shade of pink. “That’s not what I—”

“I’m kidding,” you laugh, cutting him off. “But yeah. I’d like that.”

Relief washes over his face, and for a moment, he looks... almost happy. It’s a small change, but with Rollo, small is monumental.

You reach out and squeeze his hand, grinning. “You realize you’ve just signed up for more ridiculous excuses to skip social events with me, right?”

He exhales through his nose—a quiet, fond kind of exasperation. “I think I’ll survive.”

As you turn to unlock the door, you feel a sudden rush of warmth in your chest. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all.

Before you step inside, you glance back at him one last time. “See you soon, Rollo.”

He nods, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in the slightest smile. “Goodnight.”

And with that, you slip into the dorm, heart lighter than it’s been in a long time.

It's a little shorter than usual because of the 1k event sowwy :(

Masterlist

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Upstairs, the club is already full and alive with music and lights and people. While the others walk out on the dance floor, making their way toward the DJ booth, I stay back, allowing myself a few minutes to acclimate. I find a spot in the back, out of the way, and watch the crowd on the dance floor as they smile and cheer and dance, some goofing off and laughing with friends, others serious and focusing only on the music as they move. It occurs to me that it’s been years since I’ve been to a club. Dawn used to drag us out all the time when we were in college together, and I got kind of burnt out on it after a while, but I’m glad I came out tonight.

I look past the dancers to the booth and recognize the DJ as our co-worker Kamryn, her signature bright pink ponytail swaying as she dances behind the decks. I had no idea she did this kind of thing, but she’s good.

It’s not long before I find myself moving my head and shoulders to the beat, the rest of my body itching to be set free and move as the bass thumps in my chest and a familiar warmth radiates through my limbs. As I expected, the tablet Lex gave us contains MDMA and something else, and whatever that something else is multiplies the sensation and I feel it hit me all at once as my entire body flushes with heat and a gentle euphoria lifts my anxiety up and away.

I look around to try to spot Ash, and as if I manifested him with my mind, I see him walk out of the crowd right toward me. His black t-shirt is soft and thin and hangs on him just right, and my mind flashes briefly to the exposed skin underneath. Catching myself, I take a breath and look up quickly to see his playful smirk. “Are you gonna come dance, or what?” He asks.

“Yeah, I was just about to.”

“Let’s go then.”

He extends his hand to me, and I take it, letting him lead me through the crowd to the middle of the dance floor where the moving lights and loud music and energy of the dancers take over. I let it envelop me and flow through me as I let go and dance and become part of it all.

[music]

I look over at Ash and am immediately mesmerized by the way he moves, weightless and fluid. I’ve seen him dance dozens of times, and he always looks good, even when we’re just fucking around in his living room trying to make each other laugh, but this is different. His footwork is quick and smooth and hypnotic, his weight shifting, pulling him side to side, crossing over and back again. It’s a style so distinctly urban that I can’t help but wonder where the fuck in Brindleton Bay he learned to dance like that. I can’t take my eyes off him.

Part of me is tempted to reach out and pull him into me, but I also don’t want to interrupt him. I watch as someone else comes up behind him and tries to dance with him, but he shrugs them off and shakes his head, clearly wanting to be left alone to do his own thing. So, I leave him be and dance beside him, keeping my hands to myself. It’s probably for the best anyway… I have an image of Lex popping up between us if we get too close, as if I’m a teenager again at a church dance being monitored to “save room for Jesus”. Little did they know what Henry and I had gotten up to earlier that day. I smile to myself at the memory. He may have broken my heart in the end, but that day… that was a good day. It feels nice to be able to enjoy a happy memory without being dragged down by all the sad ones attached to it, even if only temporarily. I silently thank Lex for whatever she gave me… and thank myself for only taking half. The night is already starting to blur around me as it is.

Soon, a song comes in that drags me gently out of my wandering thoughts and wraps around me like a warm blanket. It’s beautiful, layered and flowing like waves, the beat quick but more subtle than the others, a welcome reprieve. I look over at Asher and he smiles at me, nodding; he likes it too. Letting the beat guide me, I close my eyes and move to the music, feeling it wash over me as I lose myself again.

[1:50] The song slows and gets quiet sooner than I’d like it to, but I take advantage of getting a moment to breathe. Ash is grinning up at me, and I get the distinct feeling he’d been watching me.

“What’s that look for?” I ask.

“Having fun?” He was definitely watching me.

I laugh a little, more flattered than embarrassed, “Yeah, you?”

He shrugs casually, but, judging by the size of his pupils and the grin on his face, I’d say he’s feeling as good as I am.

“Where’s Lex?” I wonder, realizing that I haven’t seen anyone else from our group in a while.

Ash searches the crowd for a moment before pointing to the far end. I turn to see her familiar mop of ginger curls, and smile when I see her laughing and dancing with her friends.

“Enjoying her birthday, I see.”

“Yep.”

[2:20] The music dips quieter as the layers are removed bit by bit. When I turn back to Ash, my smile falters as I look him over, the image of his shirt lifting up refuses to leave my mind, and my body trembles from the effort of holding myself back from reaching out to him.

My desire (or desperation?) must show on my face because he peers at me through his long lashes, gives me a playful grin, and asks, “What?” The way he says it comes out like a dare, and I watch as his eyes dip down and then slowly follow the lines of my body back up until they meet mine again, making my heart race and turning the last ounce of my willpower to dust at my feet.

[2:40] The music is starting to rise, so I gesture for him to come closer. When he leans in, my body reacts instantly, as if each and every individual cell is reaching for him, so I take his hand and I put my mouth to his ear and say the only thing I can think of to say, “I want you to kiss me.”

Our cheeks are so close that I feel the disturbance in the air between them as he smiles. He pulls back, and holds up a finger, telling me to hold on. I watch curiously as he listens to the music, nodding his head to the beat, as if waiting for something.

[2:55] A second later, he looks back at me with an excited smile, and in one swift motion, he reaches a hand to the back of my head and pulls himself into me. The second our lips touch, I feel the energy rush through my entire body as the music drops and the crowd around us erupts in cheers and dancing.

Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s the music, maybe it’s him, or maybe it’s the combination of it all, but it’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.

Prev // Next

[italoniponic]

Bat-Hunter | Rook Hunt & Lilia Vanrouge

Synopsis: In which Rook and Lilia found themselves at the start of a legendary battle for the Prefect of Ramshackle's heart. The world of love triangles is awfully quiet after this exchange. Dedicated to @pandoa. You wish and you shall receive &lt;3

Lilia Vanrouge, Rook Hunt x gender neutral reader / small scenario / fluff but mostly crack / reference to a specific Phillipines dish / 1525 words / use of “you” pronouns / Masterlist

Bat-Hunter: The Magnificent Showdown!

Few people throughout history — between humans and faes — could say that they had the audacity to directly antagonize the Great General Vanrouge in any sort of battle. And getting out of this sort of risk alive was a bit of luck granted to very few people, almost to none.

“But a coward hunter is not worthy to receive the title, nor to wear a hat.”

That was the Hunt family motto that Rook was so proud to carry in his heart. Such was his respect for his family tradition that this phrase was embroidered on the inside of all his hats so as to never forget his origins.

Well, maybe I’m starting a little too fast and you’re still worrying — from the comfort of Ramshackle’s upstairs window — what the hell the two guys you liked were doing on the ground floor balcony, dressed like that.

Despite everything, you suddenly shrugged to yourself and headed to the kitchen where a more urgent task needed to be fulfilled. When everything was ready, hopefully you could invite the guys in. That is, if you found one or the other intact in the end.

Because that was the feeling that their exchange of glances passed.

Lilia was dressed in his Light Music club “uniform,” as punk rock as your father had been in the eighties when he was young and phones were wired. He held his guitar close to him, as if it were the weapon of his days in the Army of Thorns. He was “total rad” — as the youngsters would say.

His friendly smile only masked the irritation of finding Rook in that place, decked out from head to toe. Usually, his presence was easy to ignore and his curiosity could be quite amusing from time to time.

But he knew the real situation they were in: they were equals in rivalry for the heart of Ramshackle’s Prefect.

Knights in a duel for love!

Rook, in his own instance, wore a pair of belted trousers and a loose white blouse — located in the common vocabulary as a “pirate blouse” — with the strange addition of a large pink coat over his shoulders, sewn by hand and with some patterns of blue rhombuses. With his hat in hand, he looked like a book character.

His expression was equally gentle but it carried a certain pang of defiance, like a hunter who meets another while hunting.

“You look very beauté this afternoon, Monsieur Curiosité!,” Rook praised.

“How did you actually say that time? That my beauty is ‘mysterious’?,” Lilia chuckled, squinting his eyes.

“Oui, oui! But do not fret, Monsieur, today my attention is on someone else.”

“Another one? You can’t get enough of it, can you, Hunt?”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, yes. I’m tired. Tired because I’m wandering for days and nights thinking about the smile of that kind person and how I would like to cheer them up in these times of crisis!”

Crisis? Lilia didn’t quite understand. You seemed to be doing very well during all the times you met. Had he let any detail slip through the cracks?

“What kind of crisis? That is,” he bit his tongue, embarrassed that he had to ask for help from his literal rival. “If I may intrude.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. These are ear crisis! Dear Trickster has been hearing a lot of guitars being scratched lately,” the young huntsman replied, boldly.

Lilia barely broke his guitar cable — or the entire instrument at once in Rook’s head.

It was a mere provocation, no big deal. And Pomefiore’s vice, the way he was, probably appreciated each style of music in its own artistic way. But they were dealing with a battle of epic proportions and every blow counted.

Even if he were to call Lilia’s love-hard-heavy-metal demo “instrument-scratching”. But it was worth it and it showed in the way Rook’s eyes squinted in amusement.

Dealing with Diasomnia’s vice has always been an adventure in itself. That was the best part about being Lilia’s romantic rival.

Regardless of the ending, moments like this would always have a special place in Rook’s heart and he would remember it all with emotion when he went to tell your children — “the Hunt Jrs.” — the trajectory of your love.

“Why are you crying?,” suddenly Lilia inquired, confused.

“You will not be forgotten, Monsieur Curiosité! Forever and ever!,” Rook declared, wiping a tear with the sleeve of his coat. “Your memory will be carried forever in our family!”

At this the fae pulled the hunter by the collar of his shirt, staring directly into his green eyes. It was not necessary to float to come face to face with Rook, Lilia had enough dignity to impose himself the way he wanted.

And, let’s face it, making the boy — a “child” in his eyes — literally reach his level was more convenient too.

“Your particular persona has not yet turned gray to be Malleus’ breakfast because I dare, to the best of my mental faculties, find your audacity mildly amusing,” Lilia said with a grim smile cutting across his face.

“I thank you, monsieur. And I, if I may say so, find the bloody-pink in your eyes extremely beautiful,” Rook retorted, torn between fascination and a certain fear instinct that only made him feel more confident in his goals.

“Who do you think you are, hunter?”

“And who do you think I am, bat?”

That said, the two of them started laughing. Maniacally. They walked away but kept laughing, releasing all the anger and tension that could be felt in the form of simple fun between two colleagues.

Oh, they wanted to duel until death ripped them from each others hands.

Fortunately, you opened the door in time to prevent a bloodbath in your yard — after all, it would be difficult to clean it up.

“Hey, boys!,” you greeted, happy. “Wanna come in? I made pancit canton!”

Then you showed them a plate of fresh noodles, straight out of the pan, in a colorful combination of sliced pork, sausage and shrimp along with chopped carrots, cabbage, peas, onions and garlic. It smelled wonderfully good and matched your good mood. No wonder, it was your favorite food from the Philippines.

The sun was setting and it was close to dinner time. In fact, you were so excited about the process of cooking everything — from blanching vegetables to cutting meats — that the serving size tripled. Maybe being busy tidying the house didn’t help your distraction.

But with Lilia and Rook there — and Grim would be happy with extra food — you felt that little slip was worth doing it.

The smile that opened on your face descended on them like a ray of light in the midst of darkness, poetic as a fairy tale.

The animosity in the air was still palpable, however you were simply happy to have the company of your two crushes at the same time and there are times you need to take advantage of some situations.

“Prefect! I composed a song and I would like you to hear it,” Lilia stepped forward, putting the guitar in position and pulling a bombastic sound from the strings.

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t stop an admiring smile from appearing. Outside that your heart was racing just like the Light Music club speakers after a performance by Lilia. He was so cool!

“And I brought the best collection of poems on my bookshelf to recite, sweet Trickster!,” Rook didn’t lag behind and with one movement of his arm, the coat danced beautifully under his shoulders.

Another shot to the heart! As if that were not enough, the shades of the afternoon horizon harmonized perfectly with Rook’s clothes and made him an otherworldly vision, having escaped from a bedside book just to meet with you.

“You two are going to drive me crazy like this…,” you grumbled to yourself. But you did your best to stay intact.

“I just want you to bear with me 'cause I am only one,” you said. “Let’s have dinner first, okay?”

“All for you, sweet Trickster!,” Rook declared, taking your free hand and kissing it.

“A-ah! Okay?”

“What matters is your wish, Prefect,” Lilia skillfully took the plate of pancit from your other hand and also kissed it.

“B-but your guitar...!” He literally had put the instrument between his legs.

“There’s no time for questioning, magnefique apple of my eyes. Forward, my brave rival!”

“Said and done, hunter!”

You were still confused when they managed to find a way to literally drag you into the house, each holding your arms as if your weight was negligible and the situation completely normal.

It was obvious how Rook and Lilia, even if in different ways, could make you go “head over heels.” 

Well, you avoided reaching that angle when they deposited you on the couch and sat each by your sides. At least the animosity was gone and Lilia’s guitar was more securely propped up on the coffee table.

“Dinner, mes ami?,” Rook suggested. “Then a lyrical duel to the death?”

“A what...?”

“That’s fine for me,” Lilia accepted.

And so they lived happily ever after. At least until after dinner.

🦇🆚️🏹

Special Notes: It’s funny or maybe not how I can get drowned in my own work and never make any progress in months but the moment the inspiration for something strikes me as a lighting, suddenly I can pull off an entire 1525 thing in two nights straight. It’s quite simple and it goes more into comedy territory but it’s a homage for your underrated comedy skills, Pando! I still tried my best to make sure both Rook and Lilia could have their times to shine. I based most of the exchange in Lilia’s R Sports Card personal story with Rook (and just got off from that feeling). Have to say, I love a good unilateral passive-aggressive convo and they delivered <3

Now… any similarities of scenes from certain movies are completely my fault. I’m currently having a Die Hard and Kung Fu Panda brainrot, which is weird but it happened.

[luca-just-luca]

Hello Viktor enjoyers I make my return..I have thoughts about this latest season. Before getting into full criticism, huge props to the artistic talent that worked on this show. Fortiche as a whole has genuinely changed tv animation, the combination of 2D and watercolor sequences-the super stylized music and fight scenes, absolutely thee best animation I think I’ve ever witnessed. The music, the art, the animation-even the character designs. While I don’t care for certain choices, the designs have so much artistic talent put into them. I adore cosmic horror, and to see that utilized was very cool!

To see the character it was used for, I have thoughts on. But I enjoyed the design as it was-the writing on the other hand..I’m upset with.

Admittedly, the first watch through I had was pure adrenaline. I went into this season with two things I wanted. I wanted to see Viktor evolve closer to his league self, and I wanted to see what route Sevika and Jinx would take-whether that path be together or as individuals, I wanted to see how they helped Zaun. And technically, in a way, I got what a wanted..for a moment.

There was a rumor in circulation, that arcane was meant to be five season long. I genuinely believe this wasn’t a rumor now. There was so much missing, there were so many interactions that were needed to feel this story the way it was felt in season 1. With everyone, but primarily with Viktor and Jayce. There’s that rebuttal old as season one that goes: “Arcane is meant to be about the sisters!”

Okay, how did the sisters mend their connection? Did they ever talk about it-the fact that Vi made Jinx-or how Vi committed chemical warfare on people-HER people?? Additionally, if Viktor was meant to always be the big bad we absolutely needed more time with him!! We needed to see the wedge driven between him and Jayce, to see when that good intent took a turn to the extreme. We needed to see him have more interactions with different characters-or expand further upon his already existing relationships!

There were seeds planted that the writers completely forgot about and let decay in dried up soil. In act 3 of season 1, Viktor starts getting snippy-and then outright mad at the people around him. Someone on here did address that, Viktor does have a temper. One that we were shown, when he snaps at Jayce on the bridge-literally smacking his hand away when he tries to help him up after being outright discriminative. When Mel even alludes to hextech weaponry, he gets upset-and then outright angry-teeth bared angry at the fact she would bloody their work-HIS work with Jayce in war. He and Jayce linger on it-he begins experimenting on himself because he realizes Mel has gotten to Jayce in a way he can’t pull back. The promise to destroy the hexcore, the thing he MADE Jayce promise his last wish was violated.

He stumbles out of this upright chrysalis entirely changed, amalgamation of flesh and organic looking metal-braces permanently encased to his body. He sees the blueprints for hextech weaponry, he SEES the schematics for Catelyin’s rifle. And he just..leaves, just “I must say goodbye to this place.”

I’ve seen the argument made: “the hexcore is controlling him!”

Then why does he show clear emotion in episode six? Why then and there can he express fear, concern, gratitude, outwardly. Not in the astral realm! Outwardly-his sass is even shown to be intact when Jinx thinks she has jokes! So why the hell did he never once get angry about his agency being robbed, about his life literally being left in someone else’s hands when that was something season 1 was alluding too?

And what about sky? I’m still so throughly confused on what her purpose of being back was about. Writers have had to clarify what she’s meant to do because of the lack of context! It feels like we have four, forty-five minute episodes missing. And not just of context and story for Viktor but of Sevika-of Jinx-The underground-Zaun’s conflict with piltover! The crux of what season 1 was, these two sisters and the two cities. A Zaunite and Piltovian, we had Cait and Vi, Jinx and Silco, Jayce and Viktor-dynamics that were mapped out. That needed to be explored, how did the undercity come to forgive Jinx after her father exploited most of the residents with Shimmer?

There was an entire lead up to Cait’s role as a dictator and we see..none of it? And the aim changes to finding Warwick and then to Viktor and there is so-so so much happening. It really does feel like three seasons compressed into one, but to the worst extent that the characters don’t feel like themselves. Viktor’s confidence he exudes in season one, that defiance, that determination, the anger we see him hone later. It’s gone, we he does fight Jayce there is not a HINT of anger or resentment-just: “Oh well-I was trying to be peaceful-I am going to kill you now though.”

Sevika’s urgency to make topside pay, is still there-she’s rallying people together, but then we just don’t see her until the big fight. Sure Scar is with her there-but that doesn’t say anything about it she’s leading whole different factions of Zaun after the prison break!

The finale left more questions than things answered, and I extremely dislike the usage of a time loop. Jayce’s line to Viktor of about his disability and his disease made my blood boil on my first watch through. There are so many others ways to say humanity’s imperfections are what make us perfectly human. Use emotions for example-scientifically we as humans have the highest range of emotions, but they don’t make us weak. Our ability to feel things vastly is what drives us to do certain things, art, writing, music, creation as a whole is driven by emotion. Creation can be good or bad, enlightening or destructive, but as humans we have that innate urge to do it because of emotion. Especially those who are artists, by far my favorite part of season two is how many artists looked at what was given and went:…so. I’m going to take this, and make it my own because you clearly cannot be trusted.

In conclusion, when writing fanfic or making art it will be of season one Viktor and the Machine Herald, not the Herald of the Arcane. Shoutout to The Boy Savior though, Ekko also has issues but man did he get the best end of the deal. Viktor enjoyers take care of yourselves, canon isn’t the end all be all. Have fun with making your Au’s or fixitfics, have fun drawing versions of characters you enjoy. And if it helps, season one does end on a very bleak point, but it could be seen as the ending.

[sweetiesicheng]

seungkwan - injury

word count : 702

-

the door slides open, "y/n!" seungkwan shouts and hurries towards you. "you okay?" he asks.

"huh? why are you here?" you ask him, knowing that his schedule is packed today.

"i'm supposed to be at a recording session, but i left when one of the managers texted the group chat," he explains and sets his bag down on a chair. "what happened?" he asks.

you sigh, "fell off the ladder when i was helping my sister," you shortly explain. "it's not that bad.”

"you're in a cast."

"okay, so it's a little bad."

seungkwan sits on the edge of the bed and holds your hand. he brushed some of your hair out of the way.

"how long are you out for?" he asks.

"long enough to miss rehearsals for the tour," you reply, staring at your injured leg.

seungkwan glances over at the cast and then back at you. he knows you're upset, but you're keeping yourself composed with him there.

"i can tell you're upset you know. you're not good at acting," seungkwan says and reaches over to pat your head.

"cause i can’t dance with you,” you reply, leaning towards him.

“hey, look at me,” he says to you. you look up at him. “even if you can’t dance, we’ll still find a way to make the best memories. besides, i’m dragging you on tour whether you like it or not,” he says and wraps an arm around you to hug you.

—

it's been a few days since you were discharged from the hospital. you have been spending a lot of time at home since you can't do much.

today, you decide to hang out at the company building to watch one of the rehearsals for the tour. you're friends with a lot of people who will be on tour too, so you won't be alone the entire time the guys are rehearsing.

"y/n, you're here?" dino asks as you enter the room with seungkwan.

"hi," you greet everyone present.

"sit over here," one of the dancers says, pushing a bag off of a chair. you go over to the chair and sit down.

"i got these," seungkwan says and takes your crutches. "don't dance," he says to you in almost a strict tones while pointing at you.

you pout but seungkwan kisses your forehead before putting his stuff down and starting to warmup with the others.

"has he been helping you?" one of your friends asks while stretching.

you nod, "yea, he's been helping a lot actually. i feel really bad. everyone is busy, and i probably ruined everything," you say before receiving a whack of the head, "ow!"

"you didn't ruin anything," one of your friends says. "everything will be fixed. maybe we can drag you on stage somehow," he says to you.

—

rehearsal continues going on and everyone runs through one of the bigger stages. all of the dancers are involved, so you sit by yourself.

you do the arm movements as the music plays, trying to keep yourself occupied so you aren't bored the whole time.

you watch everyone dance and start to get a bit sad about how you can't dance with everyone.

"y/n!"

you look around and see one of your friends pushing a chair with wheels on it towards you.

"come on, come on," he quickly speaks and gestures you to sit in the chair.

you get up and sit down on the chair. your friend starts pushing you across the room, and you have to hold onto the arms of the chair to brace yourself.

"too fast! too fast!" you shout as you make it across the room. the chair turns and someone else starts pushing you across the room again.

as the music continues, the dancers go back to dancing while you're in a random spot on the floor.

"y/n, what are you doing?" seungkwan asks, not even dancing to look at you.

"gotta be a part of the show somehow, right?" you reply. seungkwan smiles and laughs.

he leans in to give you a quick kiss before returning to dancing while you continue to be moved around and enjoying rehearsal despite not being able to dance.

[cloudbersoo]

would you mind?｜zhang hao

synopsis: how to get over a guy you didn’t even date in ten easy steps with the help of zhang hao.

tags: zhang hao x gn!reader, acquaintances to lovers, university au, fluff, slight angst, y/n likes someone else at the beginning, y/n is very drunk, making out when drunk, shy!hao, bestie!matthew has no filter, roommate!taerae, hanbin keeps laughing, what did jiwoong do though? y/n overthinks a little sometimes, mentions of sex and implied sex but no explicit smut! (im a minor and can’t write smut for the life of me)

word count: 6k (how did this get so long?)

a/n: this is my first fic in like six years and the first in english altogether! idk how to feel about this one but i thought to post it anyway. writing this honestly made me respect fanfic writers so much more, it really isn’t easy! this took me like five days to make. not sure how often i’ll be doing this but i enjoyed writing a lot. sorry for any grammar errors or such, i proofread this a couple of times, but my english isn’t perfect, so some mistakes might go past me. anyway, thanks and sorry! enjoy reading!

my playlist while writing: in bloom & new kidz on the block by zb1, cream soda & private party by exo, roller coaster & party o’clock by nmixx !!

i. drink your feelings away

“finally you’re here” matthew mumbled in his slightly drunken stage, leaning onto a wall as you closed the door behind you. you could hear the music and people’s chatter coming from the living room. the smell of alcohol was also very strong, especially on your friend. you wished you could just turn back and go home. you were way too miserable to party right now but the sweet smile matthew was giving you was making you stay. you couldn’t possibly disappoint your best friend on his special day.

“yeah, sorry for being late” you finally answered to the birthday boy as you handed out your gift with a forced smile. “happy birthday matt.” 

he took the bottle of wine and chuckled. “thank you y/n” he said, looking at the bottle of his favourite. “for this and for coming tonight” he continued as he raised his gaze to you apologetically. 

“of course” you uttered, trying your best to convince your friend you wanted to be here, as if you didn’t just think about leaving two seconds ago. your convincing didn’t seem to be working as matthew sighed. matthew put down the bottle and walked in front of you. he examined your face for a while before he embraced you in a hug. “he didn’t deserve you anyway” he whispered close to your ear.

right.

jaemin.

the guy who broke your heart just a few days ago. he didn’t mean to, you suppose. he just didn’t realise you were totally in love with him when he introduced you to his partner of three years. how stupid could you be?

you held your tiers in at the mention of him. not today. you can cry about it later. 

you embraced your friend for a while as you collected yourself. “you know what matt?” You finally spoke as you made eye contact with him. matthew hummed, looking at you with anticipation. 

“i’m going to have fun tonight.”

ii. embarrass yourself

about five bottles of soju and a couple beers later you were completely out of it. you were somewhere in matthew’s apartment, kitchen or living room, you were not entirely sure. laying on the cold floor with zero thoughts of your shattered heart. you felt at peace. your peace, however, didn’t last long as it was eventually broken by a familiar voice calling your name. 

“y/n? you okay down there?” the voice asked with amusement. you opened your eyes and were met with hanbin’s gaze from above you. he must have found your state hilarious as he bursted out laughing. 

you got up from the floor with difficulty and flopped next to him on the couch. “never been better” you mumbled to your friend with a relaxed smile. you started making yourself comfortable and leaned your head on hanbin’s shoulder. what you failed to notice in your drunken state was the other person sitting on the couch. the one you were currently cuddling up to.

“hao” your friend started. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen y/n so wasted” hanbin laughed with tears in his eyes. 

what. 

suddenly, you were too aware of your surroundings, like there was no alcohol in your system anymore. you quickly got up and saw that hanbin was not in fact the person you had leaned into. the person sitting next to you was hanbin’s good friend, zhang hao. the boy’s face flushed as he looked at your shocked face.

oh my god.

you were not that familiar with zhang hao. you knew he was good friends with hanbin and matthew. he was from the music department just like your roommate taerae, and you were pretty sure he played the violin. he was reserved and quiet, and definitely not the most fond of you (even though your friends have tried to convince you otherwise). a friend of a friend. that’s what he was. not someone who you could comfortably cuddle with. this is so embarrassing.

“i’m so sorry!” you quickly blurted out as you hid your face behind your palms. you could still hear hanbin’s laugh as you were thinking about your way out of the situation. 

“it’s o-okay” zhang hao managed to stutter. you were in too deep thought to hear what the boy in front of you was saying. you searched for your other friend in the crowd. it’s time for me to leave. as you found matthew by the balcony with a girl, you turned back to the men on the couch. “i’m just gonna go!” you quickly said to prevent any more embarrassment and made your way to your best friend.

he saw you coming from afar and smirked at you. “you’ve definitely enjoyed yourself” matthew said delightfully. oh. he definitely saw everything.

“you saw nothing” you bit back and leaned onto your friend as the alcohol started to kick back in again. “i’m going home” you continued. could you even walk straight? no. but you could just call your roommate to meet you halfway.

“in this state? no you’re not” the boy slurred just as drunk as you were. he wrapped his arm around your shoulder in an attempt to keep you from leaving. you were glad your friend cared about your safety even when he was drunk. his company, however, was not enjoying the sight in front of her and you could tell you had interrupted something. 

“i’ll call taerae to pick me up, don’t worry.” you assured your friend. “i’ll leave you two alone now.” you gave a smile to the girl and mouthed “sorry” as you left the two before matthew could protest any further.

iii. make a foolish choice

walking down four sets of stairs with your hands occupied by your phone was a challenge. you somehow made it though and were trying to contact your roommate. he was not answering. where is he? your apartment wasn’t that far from matthew’s but the darkness was creeping you out a little. you sent a quick text to taerae, saying you were coming home before you started your journey. 

you had made it past a couple turns when you started feeling like someone was following you. you’re just being paranoid, that's all. but the feeling only grew stronger as you clearly heard footsteps behind you. you were already walking as fast as you could in your state. is this the end?  “i’m gonna die-”

“y/n,” you quickly turned around to the familiar voice. 

zhang hao.

“oh it’s just you” you said as you relaxed until it hit you. zhang hao. the reason why you had run away from the party in the first place. your surprise finally showed on your face, which zhang hao found amusing. 

"sorry if I scared you” he let out an airy laugh while awkwardly standing in front of you. for some reason you had never really looked at the boy. he was tall and his hair was still styled nicely even after a long day. he was wearing a light blue button up shirt with black jeans that seemed way out of your price range. there was something about the way he was looking at you under the glow of the streetlights. he was looking at you with stars in his eyes, like there was no one else but the two of you in the world. the sight of him almost made your heart skip a beat. he had a few moles on his face, one right under his eye and another on his cheek that you wish you could kiss right now. has he always been this pretty? 

no. why is he here? 

he tried to give you a reassuring smile as he took a step closer. “you shouldn’t walk alone at this hour, it’s not safe for you.” he continued like he had just read your mind.

“so you think I'm safe with you?” you asked, slightly teasing. it was definitely the alcohol speaking.

the boy’s eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to say something but failed. “well- I mean” zhang hao finally responded with panic, not quite sure what he was supposed to say. you couldn’t hold your giggles which seemed to ease his nerves. his figure seemed to relax as he walked past you. “my apartment isn’t that far from yours, so we can just walk together. it’s safer for both of us.” zhang hao finished. 

lies. you’ve once picked hanbin up from his apartment and it's nowhere near yours. however, zhang hao didn’t need to know that you knew. you wouldn’t mind walking home with him even if the two of you weren’t that close, because he was right – this was safer (not because he suddenly made you think of things you haven't before).

so, the two of you continued walking towards your place. zhang hao didn’t say much as you walked, only telling you to be more careful as you almost stumbled to the ground. he also decided to hold you up from your waist from that point on – which you definitely didn’t mind. he didn’t seem to mind either as there was no signs of annoyance that you would’ve except from zhang hao in this situation.  

“we’re here” he said as the two of you stood in front of your apartment building. you really didn’t want him to go. you really didn’t want to be alone at all. because you knew the moment you were alone again you’d break down again and cry about the guy who broke your heart. just for this one night, you wished not to cry yourself to sleep. maybe it was foolish of you to ask zhang hao of all people to comfort you, but right now you couldn’t think of anything else. 

“would you like to come in?”

“do you need help to get to your door?”

you both had talked at the same time. you broke eye contact as the two of you chuckled. so he didn’t want to leave yet either? as it got quiet again you decided to look at the boy again. zhang hao seemed hesitant as he studied your face. then he smiled at you as he said “if that’s what you need.”

iv. get cockbocked by a roommate

some might find the silence between you and zhang hao awkward, but you found it soothing. he was drinking the water you had given him as you sat on the kitchen counter. he looked even more handsome up close. the way he was leaning onto the counter and the way he was looking at you. oh, how much you wished to make him yours tonight. would he mind? 

your mind stopped wandering as the boy put down his glass on the sink. “i should probably go and let you sleep” he said quietly as he stood in front of you. he was incredibly close to you, his hand on your knee, his nose almost touching yours – like he didn’t want to leave. you couldn’t help but lower your gaze to his lips. they were pink and puffy, slightly wet like they were waiting to be kissed. you looked back to zhang hao’s eyes but they didn’t meet yours. he was doing the same thing – staring at your lips. 

maybe you were going to regret it. maybe this wasn’t right, kissing your friends’ friend. but you couldn’t possibly think about any of that as you leaned in. 

his lips felt as soft as they looked. it took a moment for zhang hao to realise what was happening but eventually he kissed you back. his left hand landed on your cheek as his right hand went up your thigh. the kiss deepened as you put your hands around the boy's neck, pulling him closer to you. you don’t remember the last time you have been kissed like this. he was driving you insane and you wished he’d never stop. 

“y/n?” you hear a voice say at the door. 

taerae.

you and zhang hao froze before you rapidly let go of each other. sleepy taerae rubbed his eyes walking into the kitchen as you tried to calm your beating heart. so he didn’t answer because he was asleep. you took a look at zhang hao who’s blush was prominent even in the dark. “when did you get home?” your roommate asked as he yawned.

“zhang hao walked me, i was just giving him some water before he left.” you blurted out an excuse, which wasn’t inherently a lie – taerae didn’t need to know what happened after that. your sleepy roommate didn’t look suspicious and seemed to buy it. “he was actually just about to leave.” you took another look at zhang hao, trying to get him to say something. 

“yeah, i’ll just get going then.” he said, bid taerae goodbye, and was out of the apartment in mere minutes. 

fuck.

v. overthink your life choices

lunch used to be your favourite time of the day, mostly because you used to share it with jaemin all the time. matthew barely ever had time to eat lunch with you, which is how you got to know jaemin in the first place. the two of you clicked instantly and you thought there was something between you. how wrong you were. the past week you have been distancing yourself from jaemin and he hasn't been asking after you. you really meant nothing to him in the end. even now he’s just a few tables away loudly debating about something with his group of friends, completely unaware of the effect he has had on you.

taerae’s giggles seem to wake you from your slumber. you moved your gaze from jaemin to your roommate. he was laughing over a video hanbin had just shown him. “what is jiwoong doing?” he managed to say between giggles. 

“speaking of the devil” hanbin said as he waved past your shoulder. jiwoong walked to your table with zhang hao next to him, which was odd as the two of you’ve had a similar relationship with the chinese boy up until a few days ago (unless jiwoong had also been making out with him recently). “what did i do?” jiwoong questioned his friends as he placed his lunch on the table.

“nothing, nothing. where’s matthew?” hanbin said as he hid his phone with a grin.

“he’s on a date” you said nonchalantly. everyone at the table suddenly turned their heads towards you. they had totally forgotten you were even there as you had spent most of your break staring at a certain someone. you should get your shit together.

“oh right, zhang hao! thanks for walking y/n home the other night.” taerae said as zhang hao sat next to hanbin. well shit. you hadn’t told anyone of what had happened with zhang hao after matthew’s party. you hadn’t even talked to zhang hao since then. you felt awful that you had tried to use him to forget about someone else, and then kicked him out as your roommate found the two of you. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to even bring it up to him when you were never alone with him anyway. 

“you walked her home?” hanbin questioned as he turned his head to his left where zhang hao was sitting. the boy only gave his friend a small nod as he dug into his food. his aura seemed so different in the daylight. his hair wasn’t styled like at the party, it was a bit all over the place. the way he stuffed his mouth full of food made him look cute. his cheeks were slightly pink with blush. while observing the boy, you had completely missed the teasing smile on hanbin’s face.

how were you supposed to talk to him? thanks for walking me home and making out with me in my kitchen. does he even want to talk about it? the two of you had seen each other around campus a couple times since then and he hasn't tried to talk to you once. maybe all of it was just a spur of the moment thing for him that he now wished to forget about.

you sighed as you decided it was your time to leave for class. there was no way you were going to talk to zhang hao now anyway, not in front of all your friends. “my lecture is starting soon, i’ll go now.” you said as you stood up. taking your things with you and hearing people say their goodbyes, you were on your way.

“wait, are we just going to ignore the fact that matthew is on a date?” you could hear jiwoong ask behind you.

vi. get help

“so…” matthew said in a teasing tone as he sat across from you at the library. 

“so, what?” you questioned, like you had no idea what your best friend was referring to. well, in your defence, you never knew with matthew, but you had a feeling this conversation topic started with a z and ended with hang hao. “you and hao?” he continued, just like you had anticipated, raising his eyebrows. 

“what about me and zhang hao?” you continued, acting clueless in the hopes of him dropping the conversation. 

“after what i saw at my birthday party and then hearing he walked you home, i hoped the two of you worked out the weird tension between you two and finally fucked” your friend blurted out in a very matthew way, like it was the most obvious conclusion to come to in the world. 

“we did not!” you raised your voice a little too much as you tried to defend yourself. you got a few judging stares from the people around you who were trying to study. something you were supposed to do as well, instead of having this conversation about zhang hao. “we didn’t fuck…” you continued more quietly. there was no reason for you to lie to your best friend. not when you could use his help.

“but you were going to?” he gave you a knowing look.

“well yeah, but then taerae woke up and i panicked and i kinda kicked zhang hao out-” you started rambling. wait. “how did you know we almost fucked? did he talk to you? what did he say? does he totally hate me now?” you continued like you were going to lose your mind. and now matthew was laughing at you, trying his best to stay quiet. 

“i haven’t talked to anyone, except hanbin, he’s just as convinced there’s something going on between you and hao as i am” your friend finally spoke. if only you knew what was going on between the two of you. you sighed and hit your head on the table. “what’s the problem y/n? you know, you could just text him and ask him" matthew said.

“i don’t have his number” you mumble in despair. 

“what? how can you not have his number?” matthew asked, confused.

“why would i? was i supposed to ask for it when we were making out or something?” you said as you lifted your head from the table, looking at your friend who definitely didn’t need to hear any more details of that night.

matthew took his phone out of his pocket, and gave it to you after a moment. “here, take his number and text him”

vii. become friends

you were currently sitting down at a park you had agreed to meet with zhang hao. matthew was able to convince you it was better to sort things out with zhang hao sooner than later. but now that you were here, waiting for the guy, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. it was warm as summer was finally coming and you felt like you were sweating buckets. was it the weather or your nerves – you were not quite sure.

“hi, did you have to wait long?” you hear a familiar voice from your left and see zhang hao’s figure coming towards you. he waved at you while giving you a sweet smile. damn. he’s so pretty. 

“oh no, not at all” you answered, trying to give the boy a smile to hide your nervousness. 

“what did you want to talk about?” zhang hao said calmly as he sat down next to you. unlike the other night, now he had left much space between the two of you. he didn’t seem nervous at all, which made you feel uneasy. maybe this wasn’t as big of a deal for him as it was for you. 

“at matt’s party, i’m sorry for being such a mess and dragging you into it” you decided to tell him. “i had a few too many drinks that night.” you took a look at zhang hao. he seemed surprised, maybe a little hurt as he tried to get comfortable on the bench. was that not the right thing to say?  “i mean, i probably made you uncomfortable and then i rushed you out of my place when taerae woke up, it was super rude of me to-” you were starting to ramble. 

“i wasn’t uncomfortable” he cut you off. he finally turned to look at you again “i wouldn’t have come in if i was.” there was the look again, making your heart beat louder on your chest. he was looking at you like he did under the streetlights, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. you wouldn’t mind getting lost in his eyes. “so don’t be too sorry, i enjoyed it as long as it lasted.” he gave you a shy smile.

oh.

this was the first time the boy had made you blush, usually it was the other way around. you broke eye contact to hide your shyness from him. “cool, cool” you started quite awkwardly. “we should probably be casual about all this, since we're friends and all…”

“we’re friends now? i’m cool with that” zhang hao replied with amusement.

“i mean, we’ve known each other long enough to call us that, i guess” you tried to reason, not realising your friend was only teasing you. as you turned your gaze back to him you saw him still smiling at you. this man will be the death of me. “well that’s that. sorry i can’t stay longer, i have places to be. bye zhang hao.” you said as you got up from the bench. you had nowhere to be, but you couldn’t possibly handle being in zhang hao’s presence any longer. 

“bye friend!” he yelled after you still with a teasing tone.

viii. feel nothing

you and your new friend zhang hao have gotten along well since your talk at the park. nothing has changed that much, except now you greet each other at campus, engage in conversation together, and sometimes share memes with each other. you have tried to convince matthew that you and zhang hao are really just friends and nothing more. matthew just can’t help himself when he teases you with kissy noises every time you interact with zhang hao. he’s the only other person that knows about your little secret. even hanbin doesn’t know, because if he did — everyone would. 

you were finally finished with your last class of the day, walking out of your department building. you felt at ease as everything in your life was finally going well. you were able to sort things out with zhang hao, you weren’t particularly struggling with any classes, and you were barely thinking about him, who shall not be named. 

as if on cue, there he was standing a few meters away from you. jaemin. he wasn’t alone though, as he was having a conversation with someone. you couldn’t quite tell what the two were talking about, not that really even mattered to you. contrary to popular belief, your heart no longer ached at the sight of him. you continued your journey with no intent to interact with jaemin, at least not until you realised who exactly he was talking with. when you were close enough you could recognize the other man’s voice.

what was zhang hao doing with jaemin? the sight in front of you felt really odd, but you couldn’t possibly look away. zhang hao almost towered over jaemin, paying attention to what the latter was talking about. he was wearing glasses that complimented his face well. one of his sleeves was rolled up revealing his toned arm. he looked so mesmerising, you couldn't help but stare.

it didn’t take long for you to be caught staring as jaemin called out your name. “wow it’s been so long. how have you been?” he asked happily as you took a few steps closer to the two. zhang hao was surprised to see you, his gaze moving between you and jaemin. his face filled with worry made you think he must have heard about jaemin and you from someone (definitely not from hanbin). you gave zhang hao a reassuring smile as you greeted jaemin, who was ready to embrace you in a hug. 

“i’ve been well” you sounded a little awkward as the two of you let go. an act that used to make your heart do backflips no longer felt like anything. “what were you two talking about? i didn’t know you even knew each other.” you asked out of curiosity as you stood next to zhang hao, who suddenly put his arm around your shoulder. you turned your head towards your friend, trying to understand what he was up to. 

“we’ve shared a few classes here and there” zhang hao said as he turned his head to face you. he was so close to you again, making your heart beat louder on your chest. “you’re ready to go?” he continued. you could only show your confusion on your face as you didn’t trust your voice to say anything at the close proximity. “dinner? remember?” he gave you a wink.

what? you were completely lost. what was this man talking about? 

“oooh, date night?” jaemin cooed in front of you. he took his headphones out of his back and put them over his ears. “i won't waste your time anymore then. y/n we should totally catch up sometime!” he didn’t wait for your response before he left. 

you and zhang hao stayed close to each other in silence for a while. you wondered if he could hear the way your heart was beating for him. you tried to look for answers from his face but to no avail. finally, zhang hao moved and removed his hand off of you, what had felt like way too soon. “sorry” he said as he stood in front of you. “you must have felt awkward seeing him” he continued, scratching the back of his neck. 

“did you do all that to get rid of him? i’m fine, i don’t like him like that anymore” you felt the need to clarify to him.

“oh” he said, blush breaking to his face and neck. “well, i was getting tired of him anyway” he excused and removed his gaze from you to hide his embarrassment. you thought he looked the cutest whenever he got shy or embarrassed. 

your laugh seemed to peak his interest again, as he turned his gaze back on you. your blushing face, matching his own. a comfortable silence fell between you again. ”just friends huh?” you could hear matthew’s teasing voice in your head.

“y/n?” zhang hao eventually spoke. you hummed as a response, waiting him to carry on. “have you eaten yet?” the boy continued hesitantly. 

“no, not yet” you answered truthfully, not quite sure where the conversation was going. zhang hao stayed quiet for a while. he was nervously shifting on his place, turning his face away from you once again. he was trying to find the right way to ask you.

“would you like to go out for dinner then?” he asked carefully. 

“sure!” you answered enthusiastically. you were starving at this point and wouldn’t mind spending some time with friends as well. “who else is coming?” 

“well, i thought it could be just us…” the boy responded, still not daring to look at you. 

oh.

“oh! that works too. sure. yeah.” you replied, definitely not embarrassed that you didn’t get the hint right away. “does indian sound good to you? i’m craving butter chicken” you continued, trying to move the conversation onwards, while your heart kept beating hard against your chest. 

“if that’s what you want, it’s good with me” zhang hao said and the two of you started your way out of campus, both a blushing mess.

ix. feel everything

you were not entirely sure what to think. had you just been on a date? zhang hao didn’t explicitly call it that, but it surely had felt like one. the dinner went smoothly, it didn’t feel awkward and the two of you were able to talk to each other comfortably. he constantly smiled at you and asked you questions about your life, putting the effort into getting to know you. he even insisted on paying for your meal in the end. 

you got to know things about him as well, as zhang hao no longer felt shy talking to you. he’s an only child and very close with his mom. he chose to play the violin, because it’s much easier to carry around compared to a cello. him and jiwoong have gotten closer lately because jiwoong had asked him to help him with a song he has been working on. he also revealed that he was glad that the two of you have gotten closer, which made you question things even more.

you were walking to your apartment in silence, completely sober this time. zhang hao had insisted on walking you home again, “as a man should” he had said. the way his hand was accidentally brushing against yours every once in a while was giving you butterflies in your stomach. you were not entirely sure if the man next to you even realises how much of an effect he had on you. you weren’t walking that fast because you really didn’t want the night to end. 

must to your dismay, you ended up in front of your apartment building. it felt like deja vu, standing in front of him again. you didn’t want zhang hao to leave, but you weren’t sure if it was appropriate to invite him in. you couldn't hide behind the confidence alcohol had given you last time. you didn't know what to say, so you settled on just staring at his face, completely mesmerised. he was doing the same, his gaze wandering on your face, like he was trying to remember each little detail of you. 

“i should…” zhang hao started, now looking straight into your eyes. “i should probably go now” he continued, not at all convincing. he made no effort to move, which finally gave you the confidence to talk. it won’t hurt to ask, right?

“i could offer you a glass of water before you go” you said, tearing your gaze away, still slightly scared of what he might answer. “you know, taerae’s not home tonight…” you added. as you heard no answer from the boy, you hesitantly took a look at him. he was smiling at you again, the way he had been all dinner. 

zhang hao took a step closer, raising his hand to hold your chin, making you hold eye contact with him. he lowered his gaze slowly to your lips, looking at you like you were someone to be desired. “you sure?” he finally spoke in a lower voice, still staring at your lips. you could only hum in response. and then he leaned in to kiss you. 

his lips were soft, but he pushed them hard against yours. he tasted like cherries as you kissed him back. the kiss deepened quickly as his tongue pushed past your lips. his arms lowered to your hips, pulling you closer, as you put yours behind his neck, playing with his hair. you didn’t stop until you both were almost running out of air.

zhang hao let out an airy laugh. “i’ve wanted to do that for a while” he confessed, your arms still tangled around each other. he was looking at you with so much adoration.

“yeah? me too” you smiled, your cheeks slightly pink. you let go of the boy to open the door to your apartment building. he held onto your arm as the two of you walked towards the elevator. you turned to look at zhang hao, who’s cheeks were a shade of pink as well. he noticed you staring and gave you another sweet smile. the door finally opened, and he couldn’t even wait till you got to your apartment, as he stole another kiss from you as you entered the elevator.

“i honestly thought you didn’t like me at all” you admitted to him as you parted from the kiss.

“that’s what hanbin always told me” zhang hao answered, now with a pout on his lips. “i was just too shy to talk to you, you’re like the most gorgeous person i’ve ever laid my eyes on” he continued, no longer daring to look you in the eye. even he seemed a little surprised by his sudden confession. 

oh. 

you’ve received compliments before, but hearing one from zhang hao felt different. your cheeks heated up again, and you could feel your excitement all the way down on your stomach. you wanted him so badly, you could only wish he felt the same way. when the elevator stopped, you decided to quickly peck the boy's cheek before you dragged him to your apartment.

once the door to your apartment closed behind you, you were all over each other. his lips connected with yours as your arms roamed all over your bodies. you couldn’t get enough of him, wanting him even closer to you. you stumbled over to your bedroom, where you gave him one more kiss before backing away.

zhang hao looked at you with concern. “are you okay?” he asked while still holding you closely.

“yeah, i just- i want to make sure you want this as much i do” you answered, studying his face for any signs of regret or hesitation. 

“i really like you y/n, and i want this more than you think” he admitted. he detached one of his hands from you to remove his glasses out of the way, putting them down to your nightstand. he lowered his hand on your cheek, cherishing it gently. “let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

so you let him, as you kissed him again.

x. fall in love

you were still out of breath as you cuddled up to zhang hao’s bare body. he wrapped his hand around you and squeezed you closer to him, twirling your hair with his fingers. you laid your head against his chest, drawing circles on his toned body, sighing with content. you felt zhang hao’s lips against your forehead, giving you a peck after peck. the act made you giggle, turning your gaze to him.

“what?” you asked.

“nothing, i’m just really happy” he answered, giving you one more kiss on your lips. he looked at you with so much love and warmth, which made you feel like you were dreaming. you couldn’t help but wonder what made you deserve to meet someone like zhang hao. no one has made you feel this good in such a long time, if ever. suddenly, very overwhelmed with your feelings, you hid your face on the crook of his neck.

you felt zhang hao’s chest vibrate from the laughter he let out. “cute” he whispered quietly, mostly to just himself, cherishing your head again. you got comfortable again, almost falling asleep in his embrace. his breath also evening out as he was slowly drifting away to sleep too.

“i really like you too, zhang hao” you sleepily mumbled against his skin, before the two of you fell into dreamland together.

- end

bonus:

“why do you always call me zhang hao?”

“maybe because it’s your name??”

“yes, but everyone calls me hao. you’re the only one who calls me zhang hao”

“oh”

“well, hao, i’ll call you that from now on”

the boy’s face flushed red as he finally heard you say his name. 

“oh my god, you’re so cute!” 

he turns his face to hide his blush from you.

“shut up”

[its-time-to-write]

your mind is not your friend

HUGE shoutout to @whimsical-roasting for being an absolute babe and helping me out of my writing slump. Been feeling like I’m just churning out the same story over and over, but she gave me a prompt that absolutely knocked it out of the park! This actually contains chunks of text from our conversation, she was so helpful. Literally could not have written it without her, so be sure to check out her page and see what she’s got going on.

your mind is not your friend

It’s 2:30am on the dot, and you’re in your car, staring at the steering wheel. How did I get here? you ask yourself, rhetorically. You know exactly how you got to be in this driveway at this god-awful time in the morning.

You had been awake two hours ago, and sent a u up? text to a somewhat-friend you met at a bar a couple weeks ago. He was attracted to you, you needed to blow off steam, and thus your relationship began. “Relationship,” being used in the most technical sense of the term.

Pretty much all you did was hit each other up for sex, but that was kind of the whole point. You had no feelings for him, he didn’t have any for you, so you were in a mutually beneficial friends-with-benefits type situation. No strings attached.

The sex wasn’t bad, it was actually pretty good, especially if it was dark enough and you were feeling delusional enough to convince yourself he was someone else. On occasion you’d have to bite back a moan with the wrong name on your lips, but you’re pretty sure this guy wouldn’t have noticed.

But here you are, at 2:30 in the fucking morning, feeling strangely empty.

As you pull out of his driveway, you promise yourself this is your last hookup with this dude.

You can’t bring yourself to have another night like tonight.

It’s weird. You feel weird. You’re too aware of your arms and legs, and the night lighting isn’t helping anything. There’s barely anyone on the road, and you can’t bring yourself to turn on any music. 

You’re just tired because god, the sex was good, sure, but it was emotionless. He didn’t match your energy nor your affection, and it felt physically draining.

You’re not even sure where you’re driving but you’re sure as hell not going home right now. You pull your car to the side of the road under a streetlight and just sit.

After a few minutes, you pull out your phone and toy with it for a second, then think fuck it and call Jamie. You’re pretty sure it’s too early for him to be awake for training, but you never know until you try, right?

Right. 

He picks up on the first ring. “Yeah, love?” he says by way of greeting, voice thick with sleep. 

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” you ask. “I wasn’t sure what time you woke up and I’m having a shit night, so I thought I’d just check to see if you were up. You can go back to sleep.”

“Not asleep,” Jamie yawns. “Been up for a bit. You alright?”

You pause. There’s something about Jamie’s voice that’s bringing tears to your eyes. 

“Darling?” he asks softly, “You still there?”

You nod, then remember he can’t see you. “Yeah, I’m still here.” You can’t erase the tears from your voice. 

You can hear Jamie turn a light on somewhere in his house. The mental image of him padding around that big empty house calms you somewhat. 

“It’s just-” you start then stop. 

“Hm?” Jamie hums, encouraging you on. 

“I don’t wanna get into it, but he didn’t even make me feel desirable. The entire night he was like ‘Yeah, sure, whatever. Fine, let's get it over with,’ and I felt like a pity fuck even if we didn't go all the way. And I’m just- just tired,” you finish lamely. 

All you get back is silence. 

“Jamie?” you say, half-pleadingly, desperation tingeing your voice. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here. Come to mine, yeah? I’ll unlock the door, so just walk in.” His voice sounds thick again, almost like he’s crying, but you chalk it up to the early hour and start your car again. 

—

You’re at Jamie’s house in no time at all, walking up the steps through the doorway and into his arms. You can’t even cry at this point, because it just feels like too much work.

“D’you want a shower?” Jamie asks, chin on top of your head. “I already pulled out some clothes for you, and I can throw these in the laundry. They’ll be a little big, but,” he shrugs, arms still around you. 

You tilt your head up and nod, no energy for words. He says “Alright then. You know where you’re going,” so you make your way up the stairs.

“Gonna make some food,” he calls after you, “You know I fuckin’ hate eating alone, so you have to eat some too.”

—

After a long, long hot shower, you’re in Jamie’s clothes and headed back downstairs. Your skin feels raw from where you scrubbed it, but you’re starting to feel more like yourself. As you walk into the kitchen, Jamie looks up from where he’s making grilled cheese on the stove.

He asks, “How you feeling, love?”

Love. Darling. God, his pet names are going to kill you. You’re not sure why you thought this was a good idea.

You’ve been in love with Jamie Tartt for, like, ever. He was just so funny and so sweet and so goddamned sexy. 

You are positive you have no chance with him, given his dating history. He’s not really one for commitment. You figure if he were interested, he would have made a move by now, but he’s comfortable where you are, just being friends.

You’ve been doing your best to erase all feelings from your body, hence: casual sex. 

It was working out great for you in all respects, obviously.

But, to answer Jamie’s question, you just shrug. He seems to pick up on the I can’t speak vibe, so he tilts his head at you, lower lip sticking out in sympathy.

“Right,” he says, flipping a grilled cheese sandwich on a plate, “take this and go sit over there.” He points to the couch. “You want anythin’ to drink?”

You shrug again, so Jamie goes to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water. He grabs his own plate and you follow him to the couch.

He sits down first and pats the space right next to him, so you sink into the cushion. He adjusts so you’re curled into his right side, arm slung around you.

You eat in silence, and you can feel yourself slowly floating back into your body. It’s funny, really, because you hadn’t realized you were detached. 

The sandwiches are long gone, and you’re feeling more like talking, all wrapped up in Jamie’s too-large hoodie and sweatpants. Your face is the only thing that’s been visible this whole time, hood pulled up. Jamie’s hand has been running a comforting pattern up and down your arm, and it hits you that sitting on the couch with Jamie feels more affectionate than literally kissing a man who was like a damp board of plywood essential.

“I’m sorry.”

Jamie looks at you in surprise. “How d’you mean, love?”

You return his gaze, teary-eyed. “You have training and shit soon, and you’re supposed to be getting rest. I know you lied about me not waking you up. And I shouldn’t’ve bothered you. It’s my problem and my fault that I even feel like this.” You stare at the empty plates on the coffee table in front of you. “God, I don’t know… maybe I’m too affectionate. Like, I was kissing all over his face and he barely even did anything back. I know it’s just sex and not a relationship. I don’t even want him that way. But it just feels like it fucking sucked my soul out of me.”

You feel Jamie shift slightly, and you catch the tail end of what you think is- a wince?

It just makes you feel worse. “I felt undesirable and I KNOW I didn't look it tonight. I looked desirable as fuck. But he kept on being like 'yeah, sure, whatever spread your legs.’ And I want to be wanted, you know.. like, crave me like it's a not a chore.” Your shoulders slump as Jamie sucks in a breath. His hand, which has maintained a steady pace on your arm, is erratic now. You misinterpret the wince and the breath and keep going.

“Look, I know that you… you know, you’ve had sex with a lot more people that I have. I’ve been with like, three, including this guy. I know that I messed up, it’s just- I don’t want to feel cheap, you know?”

You can’t look at Jamie. You’re not sure that you can bear him explaining how you’ve breached some innocuous rule of casual sex. You can feel his eyes burning a hole through the hoodie. You didn’t realize you were using it as protection until you felt like you lost it.

You force yourself not to cry, and determine to pokerface your way through whatever Jamie has to tell you. He slides off the couch until he’s on the floor in front of you reaching for your hands.

“That fucking bag of dicks don’t deserve you,” he says, with such feeling that you’re sure you misheard him. You just keep staring past him at that empty plate.

“Oi, did you hear me?” Jamie says bringing up one hand to gently pinch your chin. “He don’t. Any man that makes you feel this shitty about yourself, especially after spendin’ the night with you, is a fucking piece of shit.” He squeezes your hand. “That arsehole has no fucking idea what he let slip away.”

His words are so far from what you expected that you’re having trouble registering them.

You let out a hoarse, “What are you saying,” and Jamie chuckles ruefully.

“I’m saying- shit. This is a shit time to be telling ya, but fuck it.” He takes a breath. “I really fucking like you. I think you’re fucking great. I’ve hated hearing you talk about that arsehole since the first time you fucking went home with him. Told meself that it should’ve been me you were goin’ home with, not that prick. I love when you’re affectionate. You know, when you fucking… hug me too hard ‘cause you’re excited bout somethin’ or kiss me forehead before leaving. But I didn’t want to fuck up what we already have going, so I didn’t fucking say anything. I should’ve said something a million fucking times, but I’m saying it now. It ain’t your fault. It’s that prick’s fault for making you feel fucking disgusting about the best part of you.”

You’re not starting at the plate anymore. You’re staring at Jamie’s face, and his pleading eyes, and you feel your soul reconnect to your body. You slide off the couch and into his arms, both of you on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. He holds you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth when, in reality, you think it just might be the other way around. 

Jamie wraps one arm extra tight around your waist and heaves you two off the floor. 

“C’mon,” he says, voice muffled from his face buried in your neck, “we’re going the fuck to sleep.”

“You have training,” you remind him into his hair. 

“Nah,” he says, beginning to walk you to the stairs. “Told Coach I was sick right after you hung up.”

“Oh,” you say in a small voice. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“Right,” Jamie says. “I’m done fucking talking. Let’s get some proper sleep, yeah?” 

You nod, and he takes you all the way upstairs into his room. It’s the second time within four hours that your in another man’s bed, but this time feels different. This time is checking all the boxes you were looking for, and this time, you have the one you want.  

[dallasgallant]

its 530am here give me your favourite headcanons and unpopular opinions im delirious

Ooo I’ll try to think some up, been a busy day so this might not be the best. Can’t let this lie till when I have a better answer, if I don’t know I’ll explode.

Johnny likes staying with Two-bit the best because his family has a sleeper sofa. He does have to use his sisters spare sheets/blankets… and he is a little worked up about using girls sheets but it means a lot to get comfort where he can.

Johnny drinks. Not a lot, usually only two and he takes it slow.

Steve’s nose is crooked from having his nose broken one too many times. It’s not too noticeable unless you look close but there’s a definite slant

Steve and soda simultaneously hold eachother back from doing stupid, high energy shit… it doesn’t work that well and that’s part of the reason soda drags pony along everywhere

Darry’s main hangout is the gym because he feels his masculinity is a bit threatened by doing a bulk of housework and nagging (stereotypical mother behavior) he knows he’s being dramatic about it but feels he needs to prove something.

Dally isn’t very good at sweet talking someone as if it’s not quick his pride quickly gets in the way

Pony’s clothes are 98% hand me downs

Unpopular opinions-

Idk why everyone else thinks Dally is FROM New York but I don’t see it that way. More he was raised in Tulsa, went away for a while and then came back. Either with family or on his own (the implication he moved all over the place or on his own is either from a tweet or purely the musical and idk why — I just-)

I talk a big talk about rodeo stuff but fandom should also lean into the fact the boys are a bunch of rednecks. Like in general but there’s also a lot of interesting class issues underlining the story and idk people seem afraid of the fact they’re poor?

Literally no one in the story is “the bad guy” or “evil” like the entire message is about nuance and everyone’s human and complex but my god will that go over everyone’s head for someone to blame.

I’m a time period stickler when it comes to writing fic/headcanon/meta. Sort of unpopular in that I find the research and stuff fun (I promised to make time period help posts… I’ll get on that sometime) not everyone likes doing this or is as particular and that’s fine. This is more a unpopular thing I do than opinion

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Prologue

We did it! We did it! We did it! Yay!

Since you guys are awesome and helped me reach 100 followers, here is the prologue to my new Bucky x Reader fic Sorry, I Love You inspired by the Stray Kids song of the same title (also, stream 5-Star on your favorite music app!)

This is a friends-with-benefits - to - strangers - to - something that I haven't written yet. I've got 5 chapters completed and no idea where the story will take me. I'll add tags as we go!

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Friends with Benefits, angst, unrequited feelings, Natasha being a Good Friend. This is just the Prologue, so a lot more to come!

Word Count: 700

Let's go!

You hide your feelings as deep as you can, but they bubble over. You can’t help but stare dreamily when his face morphs in happiness as his eyes squint when he laughs with the guys over a pint of Asgardian liquor. 

You know your face says everything you won’t. When you meet Natasha’s gaze from across the table as Bucky throws his head back in an exaggerated groan at something Sam said, you immediately straighten your spine and wipe all traces of love sickness from your face. She softens her brows and gives you a pitying look you can’t stand.

You stand from where you’re sitting, disturbing the group’s conversation going on around you while you’re distracted by the highlights and shadows of Bucky’s mouth. His bright blue eyes meet yours, slightly fuzzy from the amount of Asgardian liquor flowing through his system, and he smiles at you from one side of his mouth.

“Where ya’ goin’, sweetheart?” Bucky basically yells from three seats away. “The party ain’t over yet!”

You laugh and drain what’s left of your drink before slamming it down and taking a small step backwards. You scrunch your face up and shake your head at the burn.

“It is for me, Barnes. You guys know it’s way past my bedtime.”

Everyone either laughs at your self-deprecating statement or starts complaining about you being lame. You smile brightly as you tell everyone good night and make your way out of the room. You immediately know you're not alone in leaving the table when you hear more exaggerated complaining from the group following someone else’s goodbye.

“Hey!��

Nat’s voice reaches your ears just as she grabs your arm and walks beside you. You both make your way towards the residential quarters where you and Nat share the same floor. The walk is quiet. Neither of you speak all the way to the elevator and the entire ride up. The hand she grabbed you with has looped through your elbow and pulled you close. You both lean back against the shiny surface of the carriage wall, listening to the soft AC/DC coming from the speakers. Freaking Tony Stark, you think to yourself, hiding a small, fond smile.

Nat breaks the silence as the ring of the bell ushers the opening of the elevator doors. Her arm tightens around your own, pulling you closer into her side.

“Are you good to go on the mission with Barnes later this year?” Although Nat asks the question bluntly, her tone of voice is gentle.

You snort and turn to look at her with a confused look on your face.

“Yeah?” you respond. You know that she knows that you know why she needs to ask the question, but you refuse to admit anything out loud.

“It’s just,” Natasha sighs and drops your arm, turning to face you, “this is a close quarters kind of mission – I don’t want you doing something stupid.”

“Wow, Nat.” You huff and cross your arms protectively in front of your chest, continuing down the hallway at the slow pace you’d set. “Tell me how you really feel.”

She closes her eyes and waves a hand in front of her face, acting like she’s batting her last words out of the air.

“Not stupid,” she clarifies, “I meant I don’t want your feelings for Barnes to make you think there’s something there when there really isn't.” Nat gives you a reproachful look when you start to deny it. “I know this is something you and he talk about sometimes, where he says he’s not looking for a relationship. But, hon, you’re always looking at him like you want one.”

You stare straight ahead to avoid her gaze, worrying your lips with the blunt edges of your teeth. A jittery, painful feeling fills you at the mere thought of whatever it is you have with Bucky ending like you know it will. This ‘relationship’ that isn't really a relationship.

“I don’t mean to,” you whisper pitifully.  

“I know,” she soothes, removing your lip from your teeth with her thumb and using the other hand to rub your arm. “It’s just a crush – it’ll go away.”

You both hear the doubt in her words.

PART 1

[cannedpickledpeaches]

The Drive Home

Floyd Leech x Reader

Notes: Haven’t finished the side stories for Insert Your Name so here’s some Floyd angst while you wait.

Somehow or the other, over the years, you’ve become Floyd’s designated driver.

You’re good friends, so of course you go to the same parties. You don’t drink, so of course he needs someone reliable and sober to take him home . . . if he isn’t going home with a new friend. The latter happened often enough in university that you only showed up to events when he was too hammered to leave with anyone else.

You never bothered to learn about his more personal life. It wouldn’t be too weird to ask—he’s happy to volunteer information unprompted, regardless—but you simply aren’t interested. You’re his childhood friend. It would feel almost gross to like him when his parents’ home welcomes you as warmly as your own. Jade and Floyd are just like your annoying brothers, that’s all.

You’re also really good at convincing yourself.

When you were young and fueled by emotion in high school, you constantly dreamed about Floyd if he was the perfect boyfriend. One who was attentive, fun, and loyal. One who would treat you as someone special, who would never get bored and cast you aside. One who would devote his entire being to you.

Maturing is realizing that’s just not Floyd. And you can respect that. Maturing is understanding that no matter how much your heart likes him, that fairytale prince you conjured in your daydreams with his face doesn’t exist. Maturing is realizing just because you like him doesn’t mean he’s good for you.

But you still like him. You tried, but you can’t change that.

Neon letters flicker and cast their light over the interior of your car as you wait in the driver’s seat. After graduating from university, he moved on from frat parties to clubs. Even while parked by the curb, you can hear the booming music thrumming in your steering wheel. The bass pulses like a second heartbeat.

A tall silhouette stumbles to the door on the passenger side. Neon pinks and purples from the sign behind him light up the flyaways in his messy hair. When he opens the door, the stench of alcohol crashes into you the same way he crashes into the seat. The cologne swirling around in the headache-inducing miasma doesn’t help in the slightest.

“You stink.” To alleviate your nostrils, you roll the windows down. The muted music transitions into a different song with the exact same beat. “I’m thinking about kicking you out and making you walk home.”

“Don’t do that, s’not nice.” His words sound as though his tongue has lost half its flexibility. “Ya’ve got your best friend in your car! Would never dream of doin’ somethin’ so mean, wouldya?”

“If you throw up over the seats, I’m kicking you out. Too bad my best friend isn’t worth cleaning up whatever’s in your stomach right now.”

“Won’t throw up.” His snicker ends in a groan. It takes him several tries to secure his seatbelt. “Fuck. Feel like the world’s spinnin’.”

You pull out a plastic bag from the glove compartment and shove it in his lap.

For a good stretch of the drive, he’s content with humming to himself. You don’t play music in case it makes his headache worse. He makes enough noise to fill the car anyway. His off-tune humming switches through several melodies, some you recognize, some you don’t.

The humming fades into silence. At a stop light, you glance at Floyd to make sure he’s okay. His eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. You think he’s asleep until his eyes flash open and he gives you a grin.

“Eyes on the road.”

“Just making sure you didn’t kick the bucket.” You catch a glimpse of a red stain on the right side of his Adam’s apple. Your gut twists unpleasantly. “If you’re gonna sleep, turn your face to the right.”

“Why? Y’don’t wanna see my handsome face or what?”

You look forward as the light turns green. “No, you told me to keep my eyes on the road. I just don’t want you transferring those lipstick stains onto the seats.”

“Ain’t gotta be salty that you don’t get laid.” You don’t need to look at him to hear the grin in his voice.

“That’s because I have standards.”

“Like what?”

“Something higher than ‘has a hole.’”

He clicks his tongue playfully. “Jealousy ain’t cute on ya.”

You’re aware. Painfully so. Jealousy feels ugly, gnarled, like a twisting mess of poisoned vines reaching insidious tendrils through your veins. They eventually follow your veins back to your heart, squeezing its walls with every lipstick stain you see on his skin. The wish to possess, to confine him in your clutches when the thing he hates above all others is to be tied down—that isn’t cute in the slightest.

Maturing is keeping the worst thoughts inside. A mature adult like you won’t throw a tantrum or cry dramatically in front of him. No, a mature adult like you can do that in the privacy of your room.

“What’s cute on me, then?” You swallow hard. He won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow. Probably. Not when there are so many other, more interesting conversations from the club to remember.

Awkward silence fills the car. Your fingers leave sweat on the steering wheel. Focusing on the road might help distract you from the odd pause from his ever-present noise.

“Your hands.”

You very nearly step hard on the gas by accident. You weren’t expecting an answer at all, much less this one.

“Why? Is that a fetish, or . . . .”

He barks a laugh. “Nah, who knows?”

“Ew. I’ll kick you out.” Both of you know you won’t. If you’re being honest, you’re a little flattered that he thinks your hands are cute, even if it’s in a platonic way. “Why my hands?”

“Dunno. Just the part of ya I was lookin’ at when y’asked.”

Now that’s an odd answer. At a stop light, you look at him again. His sleepy eyes meet yours, and a lazy grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“I told you to face your right.”

“Right, right.” He sticks his tongue out, but doesn’t oblige. “How’m I s’posed to give ya a proper answer when I’m not s’posed to look atcha?”

“You can’t think of cute things about me if you aren’t looking at me?” You scoff, turning onto a side street. Almost there. “Think of me in your head or something.”

“My head can’t do ya justice.”

Your heart almost skips a beat. Almost. Because you think of all the other people he’s said those words to. All of a sudden, you feel much less special.

Childhood friends. Maturing is understanding that is all you are, and that is all you will ever be, and that you will never, ever be in a relationship with Floyd Leech unless you want it to come crashing down in infinitesimal pieces.

“I like your eyes, too. Always lyin’.” He laughs. “The eyes of a liar, that’s what ya got. But I like them more this way.”

“Doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“Well, it is.” His chuckles fade into the ambient rumbling of the car for a few moments before he starts rambling. “I like your laugh, too. And the way ya come to pick me up even when ya complain. And when ya scoff when I do somethin’ nice for ya, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’re happy anyway. And your nose when it scrunches up. It gets red when it’s cold.”

“Most people’s noses get red when it’s cold.” You choose to ignore everything else he said.

“Not mine.”

“Most humans.”

It’s the novelty that attracts him. You’d have thought that after living with humans all this time, the novelty of flushed skin would have worn off, but it’s hard to tell with Floyd.

“Wouldya like me more if I was human?”

His voice is nearly lost in the humming of the car. You keep your eyes straight ahead. Vaguely, you wish there was more traffic in this side street. Something to keep your mind off the odd vulnerability in his voice.

“I like you the most the way you are,” you say, and it’s the truth. No matter what he is, human or mer or otherwise, you like Floyd as himself. You’ve fallen in love with a natural disaster, and you only barely have enough sense not to throw yourself in the midst of it. The winds would shred you apart. You desperately struggle against the part of your mind that whispers: at least you would have had it once before being destroyed.

But you’re older and more mature now. You won’t indulge that emotional side of you.

You stop outside his home and put the car in park. “We’re here. Get out of my car.”

A mix between a groan and a whine drags itself out of his throat. The alcohol might be making him woozy, but he can walk to his door just fine. You won’t need to help him anymore than this.

He unfastens his seatbelt and leans over to you. The hug he gives you is so uncoordinated, it feels like he’s simply throwing his weight onto you, his arms flopping uselessly.

“Thanks,” he says a little too loudly for his mouth to be next to your ear. “See ya ‘round.”

“Don’t ask me to pick you up again.”

“Ya say that every time.” He laughs again. Laughter always hides just under his tongue when he drinks. “Ya still come when I call.”

“I won’t anymore.” You don’t mean it.

He waves off your remark and plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You stiffen, but you’re sure he’s too drunk to notice. With a boisterous farewell, he stumbles out of your car and disappears beyond his front door, leaving the ghost of his kiss on your skin.

You hate being a mature adult. If you weren’t, maybe you would’ve called after him. You might’ve rolled down the window all the way and pulled on his collar, yanking him close enough to kiss him on the lips. Consequences be damned, caution to the wind, whatever else they say about being young and reckless. But you’re a mature adult, and the best you can do for both of you is watch as he leaves.