#all the others are only mentioned once or twice so i'm not bothering with them

[ozzgin]

Heyyy just checked your masterlist and saw that despite you being into obey me! fandom, you don't have a fic. I'm married to Solomon in my mind so how about a situation where the reader (fem or gn your pick) is equally in love with this old man and begs him to recreate that time potion which made him immortal. Oh? Did i mention i want him to be a yandere? Please do that as well ^^

I love me my morally grey wizard ;)

I have 3 unfinished drafts for Diavolo, Barbatos and Satan on my Wattpad, but it was around the time I started getting Baki related requests here so I haven’t had the time to continue them. This goes for everyone reading, if you see a fandom title with no works you can always request something! :) This blog is only a few months old and I wasn’t writing much before (twice or thrice a year if I was generously inspired), so the variety is rather limited still. (I also finish requests at the pace of a snail, sorry about that)

Yandere! Solomon x Reader Headcanons

Featuring your fellow human classmate and now soon-to-be husband who couldn’t be happier about your wish to spend an eternity with him.

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior

It started rather subtle. Just idle curiosity at first, a mere feigned surprise that was quickly swept aside for more important matters. Sure, Diavolo bringing another fellow human to the Devildom, especially one without any powers, was at least mildly intriguing. Your situation was as tempting as a puzzle to fiddle with in between tasks. Beyond polite offers to help you handle the new challenging environment, Solomon was not planning on prying further. Then the surprises begun to queue one after another. To think that you had barely learned your way around and somehow still forged a contract with one of the devilish siblings. Then another. And another. Fascination crept its way in and the greatest sorcerer found himself begging to learn more about the mysterious (Y/N).

Naturally such fascination should’ve had an intellectual grounding and nothing more. What is it about you that has caused such a ruckus across RAD? All he needed was an answer. Yet he discovered much too late how embarrassingly involved he’d become. Childishly clutching his D.D.D. in the middle of the night, wondering if you’ve already fallen asleep, and grinning when the screen lit up with a response from you. Cancelling all plans the instant you’d ask - casually - if he wanted to join you after class to check out a new café. No, of course he had nothing else to do. Yes, it’s definitely a lucky coincidence that he’s always available when you want to hang out with him.

Once he accepted he was madly in love with you, he began fretting over all possible obstacles. The demon brothers, life after RAD. He’d never engaged much with other humans and his charisma only covered superficial pleasantries. How was he to properly convey that he’s - mildly put - obsessed with you to the point where rejection won’t be taken lightly? Uh oh. Closer to a threat than a confession. Thankfully the Heavens were gracious and you immediately returned his affections. No need for potions or hexes (not that he would’ve…he had them prepared just in case). He remembers it to this day, years after, the wide, innocent smile that you so generously bestowed upon him. Almost like a premonition, he knew you’d be the person to marry. Something he never considered in his long, lonely life.

You lazily lift your hand and admire the ring again. Solomon is quite clumsy and forgetful, but he goes all out for the things that matter. The proposal had been planned to a dizzying amount of detail and you couldn’t believe how much thought he put into it, with many aspects you otherwise assumed he’d forget or omit. Yet staring at the intricately carved band adorning your finger now, you can’t help the pang of melancholy blooming in your chest. Solomon lifts his gaze from the book he’s reading, sensing your discomfort. “Something bothering you?” He inquires with a hint of worry in his voice. “What happens after the wedding?” You demand, turning to face him. “Oh my. I personally prefer to focus on the present.” He answers with a chuckle. “Sure, because you don’t have to worry about your future. It’s mine that will end at some point.” His eyes widen and his hands are suddenly cold. He’s been so entranced by your company that he didn’t even entertain the idea of a potential end to it. He almost strokes his cheek to soothe the hard slap of your words, leaving him in a frightened stupor.

Oh no. No, no, no. Within the blink of an eye he finds himself standing before the alchemy shelves, rattling the bottles for the right ingredients. You didn’t even need to mutter a word. He knew exactly what you’re thinking of. How shameful of him to have caused you this distress in the first place. You’re young, and time for him has lost its human meaning, so your mortality hadn’t crossed his mind this entire time. He would’ve found a solution for it later, most certainly, but he didn’t expect this postponement to make you so anxious. His lips are quivering and his slender fingers are visibly trembling. Partly from the fear of almost failing you as your future husband, partly from the excitement of what’s about to come. He always imagined there’d be nothing more beautiful and precious to witness than you in your wedding attire as you tie the knot. But now? Oh, how ravishingly tempting and seducing, the fact that he can listen to the mundanely repeated words of “Til death do us part” and stare down its meaning until there’s nothing left of it. Not quite. Not for you two. The veil will be lifted and your face will radiate eternity.

After all, nothing will stand between him and his fated soulmate. What’s death to a wizard of his caliber?

[kunikinnie]

Hiii! How are you? Hope you are well! I was searching through Fukuzawa X reader's tag and I saw your headcanons for "accidently hurting their SO" and it was soooo cute!! Are your requests open, by any chance? If they are, is there any chance you could write headcanons with the same prompt, but with Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa and Atsushi? If they are not, just know that you are a great writer and I just loved your work!!

a/n: HELLO I'M ALIVE! sorry these SO LONG but here they are :) some of them might be ooc but ahkdjsf also if you're curious i was reading Spinning Gears while writing Aku's so ye

warnings: profanity, mentions of violence, blood, very angsty for some, probably ooc

accidentally hurting their s/o during an argument

featuring: Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Atsushi x GN!Reader

Dazai Osamu

There was something uncertain that stirred something deep within him - something he couldn't bring himself to face.

It could've been anything: the staleness of the air, the lingering aftertaste of the shitty coffee he had that morning, an intrusive thought he left uncontrolled, the sadness of the setting sun...

Not knowing the source bothered him. It bothered him so much that although words were flying exasperatedly throughout the room, he had regressed into his own mind.

It was the wrong move. He had underestimated how powerful the darkness was, and as it continued to grow like a whirlpool, he was swallowed into an ocean of abandoned thoughts.

He hadn't felt like this in years. Memories and voices from those times reverberated so strongly that nothing from the current moment could touch him. He didn't even have any idea what was happening.

Yet just a single phrase had managed to penetrate, and as soon as it hit it had triggered something despicable.

It was the silence that followed that snapped him out of it, not the stinging sensation at the back of his hand.

You slowly slumped down the wall and onto the floor. Not for a single moment did your stunned expression or blank eyes waver - in your silent tears flowed the last drops of your energy.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Why were you apologizing? It was he who had done wrong, so why-

"Y/N..." he weakly called out, only to be met with another apology.

"Y/N, I'm sorry..."

He fell down to his knees before tightly embracing your whole body. He apologized once more, yet you didn't even stir. Another attempt amounted to nothing. Desperate to feel something from you, his grasp on you tightened further.

"Y/N, I love you-"

How many times had he said that? Countless times at this point, countless. Each and every one was as genuine as it could get - he hoped you knew that - yet none of them seemed to reach the same level of sincerity and regret to those declarations of those moments.

For all the eloquent speech this man had cultivated over the years, there he was, repeating the same three words over and over again - each iteration once more getting twice as desperate - until finally your hand grasped his shirt.

He could still feel your tears flowing freely, but at least you relaxed somewhat, letting him relax somewhat as well.

"I love you too," you weakly replied. "I love you so much... idiot..."

No words were exchanged after that; perhaps none were needed, or rather none existed that could fill in that need. The whole night he never let you go - not even once - as you two reconciled in each other's presence in silence.

Nakahara Chuuya

It's no secret that Chuuya's temper was more volatile than his favorite wine. Depite that, however, he doesn't let his emotions get the better him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it this far in the mafia hierarchy.

Today was different. The stressful events of the week left him with hardly any room to breathe, and an argument at home was the last thing he needed.

"Can't you handle that shit yourself, Y/N?!"

He knew that you knew that there were times, such as now, when he should not be approached. So why were you here, being more insistent than ever?

The tone of your voice was already rubbing off of him, and you just had to-

"Fucking hell-"

Without thinking, he kicked the chair beside him. The poor thing managed to take most of his anger, but a piece of debris had unfortunately broken off and flew, hitting you squarely on the face.

It was in such unbelievably perfect timing that Chuuya thought at first his mind had come this stupid situation until he heard your scoff clearly.

"What the-"

Before you could process what had happened, he ran to you and grabbed you into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N."

You just stood there, still confused. Your forehead stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to the warmth you were enveloped in all of the sudden. You had expected a raging anger and frustration from Chuuya but it just... disappeared.

"Shit- I really didn't mean to, Y/N. I'm sorry-"

Were you relieved to hear that from him? Sure, a bit. But what about the fury that was all-consuming just a while ago? What were you to do with that?

Your silent rumination only unsettled him more. If he clueless as to what you were thinking, he would be just as lost as with what to do.

"Let's go over it again, okay? I'm not going to get mad this time."

More than the chair, it was his words that he flung at you that upset him the most now that he was sober from his emotions.

"I swear I won't get mad. So talk to me. Please. Y/N-"

He was vigorously but gently shaking your shoulder all the while, hoping to get something from you.

And he finally did - but a loud laugh was not what he expected.

"This is so stupid."

It was his turn to be confused. Yes, it was stupid - stupid of him to have done any of that - but he had no idea what you meant by that.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his neck. "I mean - a flying piece of broken chair? Really?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N-"

"I'm also sorry," you finally said calmly. "I knew you've been stressed recently, but I-"

"It's still my fault. It ain't your fault."

"No. It's mine."

"The heck are you saying?"

You stared at him again, pouting this time yet barely able to contain your laughter.

"Tsk. We are not going to fight over this," he answered playfully.

As quickly as the tension built so did it dissipate - a feature of most of your quarrels that the two of you were grateful to have.

You embraced him tightly once more. "I'm so lucky to have you, Chuuya."

Although you couldn't see his face, you could feel his smile spread. "Same here."

"I love you, Chuuya."

He loosened his grip on you before kissing you on the forehead. "I love you too."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

You both knew this would happen eventually. Yet that didn't make things any easier when it did.

The rage had blinded him instantly; he didn't even realize it happen. Within a split second there was a reddish-black flash and a small familiar gasp.

The scent of blood triggered such a vivid vision for him. You had fallen to the floor soundlessly, and there you were lying lifelessly. It was a vision he'd seen many times before - in lucid moments, in delirium, oftentimes in his sleep.

It couldn't be real this time... could it? By instinct, he covered his right eye with his hand. There he still saw the same bloody scene, while on the left eye he saw that there was nothing in front of him: no pool of blood and no motionless corpse. But as what always happened when he tried to disillusion himself, a headache then formed.

Only letting himself relax a bit, Akutagawa began to slowly look for you. He was sure there was blood spilled - although his eyes failed him, his nose never did. The same goes for all his other senses, it seemed, and so he let those four lead them to you.

He landed in front of a mahogany door. The sobbing and shuffling were unmistakable to him despite the thickness of the wood muffling the sounds significantly. He carefully approached and knocked on it lightly before calling out your name.

"Y/N...?"

The whimpering did not stop in the slightest, shaking him further. What if you weren't actually there and his hearing became unreliable as well?

"Y/N, please answer. I need to know you're there..."

His eyes saw fresh blood ooze out of the gap between the door and the floor. No. There was nothing there; his nose and fingers confirmed it. Shit. His delusions were getting worse even if both of his eyes were closed.

"Y/N, please... forgive me-"

There was no way you could, he thought. You shouldn't, you wouldn't, and if it was true that he had hurt you let alone kill you, then he wouldn't forgive himself either.

The gentle creak of the door jolted him despite how soft and slow you opened the door. He was met by a disheveled and tear-stricken you, blood slowly dripping down from your left arm. So many words flashed by in his vision but the only one that came out of his lips was your name.

"Y/N..."

His hand slowly reached for you - although where it aimed to touch it had no idea - as he waited for any sign from you to stop. You seemed fine with it, and his fingers ended up softly landing on the wound. It was just a graze, fortunately, however the bleeding was still continuous.

He unleashed Rashoumon to wrap and put pressure on the wound. "We should get you to a hospital," he said in a low and gentle voice.

You two wordlessly walked to the nearest clinic, almost wordlessly had your wound treated, and just as silently went back home. The entire time his still persistent headache throbbed along with the worries of what exactly it was you were thinking then. How could you still be okay with this? Or were you already planning to leave him then and there? If that was the best for you, then he had no choice than to accept it.

"Ryuu..." It was so affectionate that he thought he was delusional again. "How's your headache?"

His eyes widened at your words. How did you notice that? "It's not so terrible," he replied weakly. Really, it should be him asking how you were.

"That's good."

Before you entered your own room, he pulled on your other arm (gently) to explain himself. His delusions have been getting worse, that's why his instincts targeted you in his anger. That's what happened, wasn't it? But making such excuses was for weak men, and weak as he may be he couldn't bring himself to waste your sanity any further. He decided to apologize, but he ended up staring intensely into your eyes the entire time.

"It's alright. It's really alright."

"It isn't," he quickly asserted. "And it won't happen again."

Your smile, although weak from that night's endeavors, seemed genuine enough to him. It truly must have been real with the way it somehow subsided his headache. Still, it wasn't enough to wipe away the guilt.

And so he had decided to sleep on the couch: a preemptive measure and act of penance. But it wasn't like he could actually sleep after what happened. Most likely he would've spent the entire night reflecting on the incident and on ways to make it up to you.

"What are you doing?" There was a mix of curiosity, confusion, and amusement in your voice. "I've been waiting for you."

Without waiting for him to reply, you pulled on his arm and dragged him to bed. Your arms then wrapped themselves tightly on his waist.

"...isn't it dangerous? I might hurt you again." He was referring to his dreams affecting his physical sleeping, but his mind had pinned a larger meaning to it.

"You might," you answered nonchalantly. "But knowing you, it would never be intentional."

The gentle weight of your head on his chest had always soothed him. "You trust me too much."

"I do. It's because I love you too much, you know?"

You heard a small scoff, but even if you couldn't see his face you knew it accompanied a small smile.

"I don't know how rough you're having it right now, but please know that my love for you is real... just as I know your love for me is real."

Oh, if only you knew how much those words mattered to him- no. It would be too much.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered as he embraced you tighter.

"I love you too." You then snuggled deeper into his chest. "Good night, Ryuu. Sweet dreams."

Nakajima Atsushi

Atsushi was always afraid that he'd hurt you some way or the other, and so he was always extremely careful with anything that involved you. Even in arguments he did his best to collect himself (not that he got THAT angry anyway - most of the time he just becomes sad) and not break down in front of you spontaneously.

That's why he wasn't sure why he got so worked up this time. Perhaps everything has just been overwhelming recently and you getting angry at him was simply the final straw. Was he truly such a failure at everything to everyone?!

He was grasping a glass of milk to drink and calm himself when the frustration rushed through his blood. His grip tightened and shattered the glass, spilling liquid, shards, and blood everywhere.

Of course, you somehow quickly remained level-headed and tried to attend to his injury.

"Wait let me see your-"

As soon as your hand grazed his, he swatted it away with great force. Leave me alone, it screamed, and you heard the message loud and clear. Too clear, perhaps, since you took a few steps back to counter the impact.

Your silent and intense stare was what brought him out of it. Just the idea of hitting you, let alone that powerfully, was just so unimaginable to him that he began to break down.

It must've been the tiger's uncontrollable strength again - it's always been that. Whenever he loses control himself it's that wild beast that takes over, causing Atsushi to commit acts of savergy.

But there was no ability at that moment. There was no tiger. There was nothing to blame it on, except himself. By instinct, he retreated to himself and fell to the floor, staring at nothing in particular.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, I didn't know what I was thinking-"

His stammering and shivering were so intense - it was unlike anything you've seen before. Apology after apology came, but did the complete opposite of relieving you.

You slowly approached him, wondering if you should try and touch him again. Usually your gentle shoulder rubs were enough to calm him down.

"Atsushi...?"

More than being hurt once again, you were more afraid that he'd regressed into that place again.

You tried to snap him out of it slowly: gently talking to him, reassuring him, trying to convince him that you weren't going anywhere despite what happened and will happen.

And by some miracle it worked. His tear-stricken eyes met yours, and the softness in them finally returned.

"Are you okay?" You asked once more.

"Y-yeah, I'm fi- No, wait. Are you okay?"

His hand instinctively shot up to check your hand and arm, but it stopped right before it grazed your skin. What the heck was thinking, trying to grab you right after that?

"Oh, don't worry too much. I'm fine. There's no wound and it probably won't bruise."

Atsushi wanted to breathe easily after hearing you say that but there was more to the question that needed answering. Thankfully, you caught on quickly.

"I swear, I'm fine." You smiled at him again and gently pat his head. "You've apologized enough. So let's just clean up this mess, okay?"

Before you could even attempt to stand up, he practically grabbed you and squeezed your whole being as he buried his head in your neck.

"Thank you, Y/N." He whispered before hugging you even tighter. "I love you so, so much. I promise I'll do better next time."

You returned the gesture. Awgh. How much your heart swelled despite what happened. "I love you too, Atsushi."

Taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @kunikida-simp

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Seven Days to Fall Again | Saturday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary: Life is meaningless without you. Who knew a broken heart could be shattered twice? Pairing: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 3.2k ~ (sorry I took forever to update) Warnings: Explicit language, angst, mentions of an accident and death (nothing too crazy) a/n: Hope you guys like this one! I wasn't sure how I would go about including the whole funeral thing in the mix but I think I did alright lol Lemme know what you think! Start from the beginning

After finishing my shower last night I didn't even bother drying my hair or putting clothes on. All I could manage to do is barely make it to my bed and once my head hit the pillow the sobbing just wouldn't stop. 

I don't know how long I laid there, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing until my head was pounding and I couldn't push any more tears out. Something about last night shattered the fantasy of being able to move on with my life and feel happy without him when the truth is I don't think I can. 

Even though this whole week has been nothing but him barging into my life and always doing something to make things more difficult it's as if deep down I was happy he was still trying, happy that he wasn't gonna give up on us. 

I love him. I love him so much that being with him was the only thing that ever mattered. 

I wanted him to want me just as much as I wanted him but with how our lives have been recently I just felt like I was just there. Just another person that he interacted with and nothing more. It hurt to have him come home and have nothing to say to me, no time to do anything and not even an ounce of energy to spend on me. 

He my boyfriend for fucks sake! We should be spending time together and eating together and laughing and smiling together. Why have simple things like that disappeared almost entirely? 

I love him, I love everything about him but if it's come to this point that I have to question myself day after day if I'm the one who has done something wrong, done something to make him treat me like this...then I don't think we're meant to be together. 

Relationships are about trusting and loving each other and being able to give them your love. But he hasn't shown me that he loves me at all with the way he's been acting and he hasn't given me the opportunity to show him my love either. 

I just don't understand!

Reaching out for my phone I jump at the feeling of it vibrating right away, showing me that I have an incoming call.

After taking a quick glance to check the caller ID it's already got me on edge. "Hello?" I say groggily but am cut off by the sounds of heavy breathing and hospital noises in the background. 

"Y/n, y/n please you have to come quick he-" "Okay slow down take a deep breath and tell me what's going on" I coach Jimin when I hear the panic in his voice. He takes a big gulp of air and lets it out before continuing with a shaky voice. "It's Jungkook" he says and my heart stops. 

"W-what do you mean it's Jungkook? What happened?" I say, throwing the covers off of me and running around my room, grabbing clothes and franticly throwing them on. "I don't know I just, they said that there was an accident and they brought him here but there was so much blood and-" "Did he make it?" I question and I'm met with silence on the other end. "Damnit Jimin is Jungkook okay?" I shout, shaking and gripping onto the phone until my knuckles have gone pale. 

"He-he didn't make it. They said it was too late that there was nothing they could do..." he says but my arm drops and with it takes Jimin's voice. My breathing picking up as it starts to sink in. 

"Oh God what have I done?" I whisper to myself, my whole body shaking and my vision getting blurry with the tears that are bound to never stop. 

"Y/n! Y/n answer me! I'm coming over" I can hear him shouting at me from the other side and I pick it back up and let out a silent 'okay' and hang up the phone before my knees give out and I fall to the ground. 

"If I wouldn't have let him go, if I would've just asked him to stay he would-" I say aloud but cut myself off with a sob and rest my head on my bed, the sheets muffling the sounds of my screams. I'm never going to be able to forgive myself for this, I shouldn't have been so hard on him I should've just heard him out...

~~~~

Once I feel as if my sobs have died down I take that as an opportunity to get a glass of water but before I'm able to get there I hear a panicked knock on the door. I rush to open it and grasp onto him as tight as I can and not daring to let go. 

"Shhh, shh I know" Jimin comforts me, rubbing my back as he walks in, still holding onto me and guiding us both over to the couch. "Jimin h-he was here last night and I just let him walk away and I-" "Hey, don't do that, you couldn't have known that this was going to happen" he says, holding me tighter in his embrace, telling me not to go there. 

"Do his parent's know?" I ask after I've calmed down again, pulling away and sitting up to face him. "Yeah they do and they're on their way already. They're having the funeral today" he says while pushing the tear dampened strands of hair out of my face.

"Today? They can't have it today! What about the rest of his family?" I question, surprised that a funeral could even be put together so quickly. "They want to have a small intimate gathering for now and then tell everyone later. It's just too painful and they want it done quietly" he says and I nod my head, respecting his parent's wishes. 

"What time does it start?" I question, wiping away the tears that keep falling. "At five" he say, cringing at the time constraint we've been left with. "Jimin that's two hours" I say, shocked that they would be able to even be emotionally capable of setting everything up so quickly. 

"I know but this was the only spot they had available" he says and I nod my head, not bothering to ask for more details since nothing else really matters right now. "Will you take me to the funeral?" I ask, knowing for a fact that I wouldn't be able to make it there on my own. 

"Of course" he replies placing a hand on my shoulder and giving me a sad smile. "I'm gonna go home real quick and change and then I'll come back for you" he explains, placing a quick kiss on my forehead and heading out the door. I sit there and let a few more tears fall before pulling myself together and getting up to get ready. 

I don't bother putting on any makeup since there's no reason to. My boyfriend is gone and I'm not going to hide the sadness that I feel or cover up the gaping hole in my chest that once held my heart. The heart that always belonged to him and will forever stay with him. 

How could I have been so stupid? I should've made him stay. Maybe then things would be different. 

~~~~

As Jimin and I walk into the little chapel they're holding the funeral in I first lay my eyes on Mrs. Jeon who is putting up a stronger front than I thought she would. It probably hasn't hit her yet, the fact that her youngest son has been taken from her. 

Mr. Jeon is the one that notices us and comes over immediately and gives me the warmest hug I've ever received. "I'm so sorry" is all I can manage to choke out, not being able to hide my tears as I feel them start to form again, my vision going glossy. 

"Me too" he responds and leads me over to Mrs. Jeon who pulls me in close right when she sees me and that's when I lose it. "I know, it's gonna be okay. Don't worry love it's gonna be alright" she says while stroking my head, trying her best to calm me down. I choke back the sobs as much as I can but no matter how hard I try, the tears never stop. 

After a few more moments with them Jimin escorts us to our seats, just one row back from the front and I notice that I don't recognize the people in front of us, or anyone else for that matter. I brush it off and take a tissue out of the box that's placed in front of me and take deep shaky breaths in and out, finally quieting down as soon as the officiant walks up to the podium.

"Who is that?" I whisper to Jimin, taking in the gorgeous woman who is presiding over the ceremony. "Not sure but she's beautiful" Jimin says, while checking her out. I elbow him in the side and he holds back a groan in pain from the contact. 

"Not the time nor the place for that Jimin" I scold and he apologizes quietly before we continue to listen to the ceremony and as soon as she opens up the floor for people to come up and say some things that we remember about Jungkook we all watch in horror as the lid to the coffin opens and out comes a perfectly healthy Jungkook. 

We all just sit there stunned, not knowing what to do in this situation so Jungkook decides to break the silence. "Thank you so much everyone for coming. I'm sorry to have sprung this on all of you but your dedication has truly moved me" he says while climbing out of the coffin. 

"Y/n" he says, everyone now turning towards me and watching my every movement. "Please don't hate me for this but I just hoped that in doing this you would see how much we both love each other still and how I truly cannot live without you" he says while everyone sighs, acting as though this is somehow romantic. 

"Please will you give me another chance?" he asks, holding his hand out to me and I'm still frozen, flabbergasted that he would go this far. 

Jimin pokes me in the side to bring me back to reality and whispers a quick "Say yes" in my ear, encouraging me to take his hand. I take a deep breath and stand up, smiling at him sweetly and his eyes light up, waiting for that answer he's desperately been hoping for. 

"Go to hell" I growl and walk down the aisle, storming out of the place, not bothering to look back even as a commotion starts to settle in.             

"Y/n wait!" I hear Jungkook call after me, grabbing my wrist to keep me from getting to far but I rip it out of his grasp and turn around to face him. 

"You know I cried for you. I cried so hard I didn't know if I would ever stop. I cried for you last night and I cried even harder when I found out. I blamed myself for your death. I told myself 'If I just would've made him stay then he would still be here' I woke up thinking about how much I really love you and how I wanted to be with you again and then I get the call and it rips my heart out. I never would've forgiven myself" I shout at him, utterly heartbroken by this. 

"You know, something like this might've worked for your little actor friends but this is probably the worst thing you could've ever done to me. Jungkook I thought you died! You let me believe that you were dead and made me feel guilty about letting you go. Don't you see how fucking sick and twisted this is?" I continue, letting out angry tears as my voice gets louder and louder. 

"Y/n I'm sorry it was never supposed to be like this I jus-" "You just what? Huh? Wanted to see how broken I would've been without you? Wanted me to see how I don't want to live without you? Well you got your wish! Mission accomplished" I scoff, turning to leave and he stays frozen in place, this time letting me go. 

Jimin chases after me, begging to let him give me a ride home which I agree to because honestly I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Leaving behind that fucked up charade he pulled and made everyone play into. 

~~~~

"He never meant to hurt you you know?" Jimin says once he pulls up to my apartment complex. "Well he sure as hell has a funny way of showing it" I scoff, reaching for the handle to open the door. "He just doesn't want to lose you. I know he's been trying but he doesn't know what else to do" Jimin continues, leaving me leaning back into my seat again, knowing that he won't be letting me leave that easily.

"So his solution was to scar me for life?" I say, cocking an eyebrow at him and he turns away, guilt written all over his face. "Was everyone in on it except for me?" I question and he cringes before nodding his head slowly. "Great, just great" I mumble, opening the car door and slamming it behind me. 

"Just hear him out, please" is Jimin's last sentiment but I don't give him an answer as I turn and make my way to my apartment. If he thinks he's getting another chance after he's pulled a stunt like that then he's even more delusional than I thought he was. 

~~~~

Clearing my head is proving to be a lot more difficult especially when Jungkook's been blowing up my phone ever since I left. I don't understand how he could possibly think pulling a prank like that would make me want to take him back. He's just grasping at straws at this point but I guess I'm partially to blame since I really didn't give him a chance to say his piece. 

If I give him a chance now he's gonna think shit like that works on me but maybe I should just scold him and make it clear that that's not gonna get him anywhere with me. I groan and throw my head into my hands, sitting on the couch and stressing about what my next move should be and when I hear his all too familiar knocks on the door I know that I've run out of time. 

"Come in" I call out, full well knowing he still has his key on him and so I'm met with the sound of him unlocking the door before closing and locking it behind him, making his way into the apartment and onto the couch as carefully as he can. Doing whatever he can to keep me from blowing up on him. 

"Why would you do something like that to me" I say quietly after we've sat in silence, close to tear again with all the events of today and last night running through my mind all over again. "I'm so sorry Noona I just, well I didn't know what to do. After last night I was going insane. I was running out of ideas and so I stupidly thought of this plan at like three am and... I guess you know the rest of it" he trails off, full on admitting to his stupidity. 

"Anything decided at three am is probably a bad idea" I scoff, now understanding his mindset. He nods before hanging his head in shame, continuing to realize how idiotic this whole train wreck was. "What I did was stupid and insensitive and traumatizing and I apologize. I had no intention of hurting you" he says, placing his hand on top of my knee in an effort to show sincerity. 

"I know you didn't" I mumble, getting up from the couch and walking out onto my balcony, gazing up at the night sky. I take a few deep breaths to clear my head and calm my nerves before bothering to say anything else. 

As soon as I open my mouth though I'm met with two strong arms wrapping around my waist from behind and a head balanced on top of mine. "I'm so sorry Noona" he whispers, voice cracking, almost as if he was crying which from a few moments later after feeling a tear drop fall on my head I come to realize that he actually is. 

I turn around in his hold wordlessly and grasp onto him, holding him as close as I possibly can while we both cry, needing each other to really be able to heal. "Can we please talk now?" he asks and I nod my head into his chest before letting go and taking his hand while guiding us both over to the couch. 

"I just want you to know that I've thought a lot about what you said about me not being here or spending time with you and I've started to realize that I really have been distant. I haven't been taking time to appreciate you or love you so I just want to apologize for that. After what you said I started to realize that your love languages might be physical touch and quality time and I have fallen short on both sides. Now that I've realized that I'll pay closer attention to making sure your needs are met because I never want you to feel unloved by me. Ever" he says, squeezing the hand that he's still holding before continuing. 

"I know I've been busy on set with these last few episodes being filmed but that's still no excuse for not being here and I know that. I just have such a work minded attitude that I forget about the rest of my life sometimes and I know that a lot of that falls on you. If you give me the chance I really want to change and love you right this time. The way you deserve to be loved because if I could I would devote all of my time and attention to you. Every hour, every minute, every second because I never want to lose you. I don't want to give up on us" he says and I look up from my lap to see where our hands are connected when I feel a teardrop fall on them. 

"What can I do? What can I change to make it right? I'll do anything just please, don't leave me" he says. I look up at him and see a brilliant galaxy in his eyes, glassed over with crystal clear tears and my heart just breaks at the sight of him. 

I didn't realize until now just how hurt he might've been by this breakup too. I never wanted to acknowledge how heartbroken he looked every time I rejected him because I was too focused on me and my feelings. 

"Baby I'm sorry" I let out through choked sobs before pulling him in and resting my forehead against his. "I'm sorry I didn't even think about how this might've been hurting you too and I just, I want us to be together. I won't leave you Jungkook I promise" I sob and he pulls me in closer and smashes his lips against mine, kissing away our sorrow and pain and frustration and everything in between. Mending the shattered pieces of our hearts and making them one. 

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[junowritings]

hi there ! i love your writing! could i request floyd with reader who genuinely cant tell if someone is being platonic or romantic to them; maybe them finally realizing floyd's affections towards them aren't just platonic? ty!!

Oooh all I can say is my condolences to poor reader lmao. Had so much fun imagining how this would pan out this was a cute idea! I'm glad you enjoy my stuff - hope you enjoy~ 🧡

=======

♡ Oh, well this is going to be so much fun for Floyd.

♡ Floyd recognizes a crush when he sees one. You’re a good match - you keep him entertained, and have the uncanny knack to get him to actually do things he’d usually get too bored of and ditch at a moment’s notice (Azul’s been trying to figure out how you manage that with no success because you have no idea why he listens to you either). Not to mention all of those cute little quirks and things that you do which the eel just can’t get enough of. 

♡ And of course there’s your reactions too. The way your lips quirk when you smile, the sound of your laugh and the noises of surprise you make when he swoops in when you’re least expecting him. The way that you squirm when he pulls you into those notorious squeezes of his, thankfully nowhere near as bone crushingly tight as the ones that he’s subjected some poor unfortunate souls to. Floyd adores getting any kind of response out of you.

♡ It is glaringly obvious that he’s interested in you, at least to everyone else, and Floyd’s got no problem making it known either. The only issue is that you haven’t noticed yet. It would get on his nerves a little knowing that you have no idea that his affection isn’t just platonic, but that quickly fades once he realizes how fun this has the potential of being. Just how far can he push that obviousness until you finally realize he’s interested in ya?

♡ It’s light teasing at first. Well, as light as it can be coming from a Leech twin. Floyd’s already naturally pretty casual with acts of intimacy, always throwing an arm over your shoulder or leaning up against you whenever he’s in the nearby vicinity. So why should you assume anything’s up when that arm on your shoulder squeezes you close against his side, and lingers a little longer than normal? Or that he's just a little bit clingier than usual, resting his head atop yours or on your shoulder and looping an arm or two around your side whenever you’re near each other?

♡ But then come the little gifts. Little things that have caught his eye and he doesn’t think twice about dropping into your hands the second that he sees you. Gifts from Floyd can really be anything, from things he’s found and borrowed but ‘forgot’ to give back, to things he’s gotten from trips back home and practically shoved into your hands the second he’s back. You start to question the reason behind his gifts, and start to notice other signs too. 

♡ When you come to the Monstro lounge Floyd will take food from the kitchen and add them on as freebies whenever he feels like it. He doesn’t bother telling Azul or Jade, but they’re already well aware and aren’t entirely inclined to stop him since getting you to spend time at the lounge means Floyd’s a lot easier to manage. 

♡ Gets upset if you share it with your other friends though - it’s for you, and he’ll say as much when he pushes the treat closer towards you, making sure to keep it out of your friend’s reach. Ace complained once about all the freebies you’re getting, trying to prod you to find out what you did to get the Leech twin in such a good mood and if he could convince you to get him in the eel’s good books, all the while trying to steal a bite from the free dessert you’re picking at with your fork. That is until he catches Floyd looking at him from at the bar; he’s grinning but there’s not a hint of the fondness like when he looks at you. The message is clear - hands off, and you’ve never seen Ace give up on stealing your food so fast in your life as he almost shoves the dish into your blazer pushing it back to you.

♡ You’ve always struggled to discern platonic from romantic feelings, not wanting to immediately assume one and get it wrong only to make things awkward afterwards. So even once you suspect that something’s up, it’s hard to work up the courage to actually approach it. You doubt Floyd would make things awkward if you were wrong, but you doubt your pride could handle the relentless poking and prodding he’d subject your feelings to if you were wrong about him liking you. Staying quiet about it and just enjoying these little moments seems like the safest bet, right?

♡ You made the mistake of asking his brother once, but that was no help at all. If anything it left you feeling even more confused because do you really think that Jade will break the surprise so soon? Floyd isn’t the only one getting a kick out of watching you struggle to put the pieces together, and Jade is thoroughly entertained learning how oblivious you can be to what Floyd’s actually trying to do. Those little gifts of his aren’t just for show - they’re telltale signs of a merfolk’s interest to date you. Oh dear, it really is such a shame that he forgot to mention that little tidbit to you, isn’t it?

♡ There is a point where things get serious. The moment that Floyd decides that he’s fed up toying around and running circles around these feelings. Gets a little miffed realizing that you still haven’t figured out that these little gestures aren’t just something he’s doing for the hell of it - sure, they’re entertaining, but his patience wavers quickly at the best of times. Eventually, Floyd’s going to get tired of this game. Playing games with you is fun, and he loooooves teasing his lil Shrimpy and watching your face turn into all different funny expressions while you try to figure out what exactly his angle is. But there are better things to play, and this back and forth is coming to an end sooner rather than later.

♡ Doesn’t care where it is or who’s around to notice, as soon as he sees you after deciding he’s done messing about you barely have enough time to greet him and ask what he’s doing before you are quite literally swept off of your feet with the force of his hug. His arms are tight around you as he hugs you close, and it’s just tight enough that you have a sinking feeling that he’s going to squeeze you like you’ve seen him do to the people who break Azul’s contracts. You’re trying to wrack your brain to figure out what perceived slight you did to earn the backbreaking squeeze you’re sure he’s about to give you, maybe even mentally leaving Grim all of Ramshackle’s tuna in your imaginary will. Then he stops, chin hooking over your shoulder and that one dark strand of his hair tickling your face as he presses his cheek against yours with

♡ “Hey, Shrimpy~ ya know, you got to be real dense to miss that I really like you. Maybe I gotta prove it~?”

♡ The whole time he’s saying this, Floyd is dangerously close to giving you a nibble or two. Your only saving grace is that he’s much too interested in the reaction that you give him once you realize what he’s said. His mismatched eyes rake in every detail; the way your eyes widen almost comically, mouth dropping open like a fish trying to sputter your way through some kind of response to what was basically a confession. It’s so funny! This is the reaction he’d been waiting for, and he’s not gonna relent until you really understand that this is way more than simply liking you.

♡ Let’s just hope you don’t mind the squeezes, because that’s not letting up either. Why would he let his shrimpy go when it’s better to just keep em right by his side? Especially when he wants to hear what you’ve got to say now that you don’t have to stress your silly little head over if he likes you or not~

[wonderlandwalker]

Soon and Sooner | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick makes his way back to you after the arena separated the two of you last night. He is worried about your safety in a place as cruel as this, but he knows in his heart he'll see you soon again. Turns out it wasn't exactly the reunion he had hoped for.

Content Warnings / Tags: Angst, violence, blood, wounds, mentions of death, hurt with no comfort, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I don't know how to write long fics I'm sorry, but enjoy this piece of heartbreak that's been stuck in my head xx

Whether or not today was a good day depends on at what point of that day you asked. Finnick was alone, as alone as someone can be in the arena. He wonders at which point a greater plan is at work, and at which point it's a coincidence, but the more he thinks about it, the less he wants to. Maybe you had been separated on purpose, singling everyone out for a carefully curated show, maybe this was simply how things were meant to be. It doesn't matter either way, he tells himself, because he'll find his way back to you soon enough

The leaves rustled around him, and if he had been home the melody would have calmed him, but not here. It wasn't relaxing in the same way a breeze is on a summer day by the lakes, not serene any longer. In the arena it only put him on the edge further, dangerously close to the edge. He had last seen you yesterday, having no choice but to go in opposite directions. But that wasn't what worried him, because he knows how to find his way back, recalls the direction of the rendezvous you were probably waiting at already, all he had to do was get there too.

So he went on, only taking small breaks to refill his water, check his surroundings, make sure he would live to be with you once more. As the day passed and he got closer to his destination, he found himself growing negligent, deciding to worry later about the cut on his leg from the thick branches, not bothering to thread carefully over the ground anymore. He was growing restless, desperate.

It didn't take long for Finnick before he could already see the beach coming closer, determination carrying him far. With every step closer he couldn't deny his growing worry, his worry for you. He knew for sure you had survived the attack yesterday, your picture had not been shown in the sky and he had felt relieved, but this morning there was  a cannon, and he had no idea who that belonged to. He thinks he would know, somehow, if it had been you, that his heart was so irrevocably tied to yours he would have felt the string being cut, but that doesn't stop him from wondering, what if it had been you. What if you had been left with a fatal wound that claimed your life after hours of agony, what if there had been another attack, what if-. No, he would know, and he knows he'll see you again soon, so he continues on.

As he turned through the clearing, he could see you standing there, laughing at some joke Johanna had made. The two of you had always had a soft spot for each other, finding family in even the most dire of circumstances. As he finally saw you, the band around his heart released, no longer being tugged at with every step he took. As he finally got closer to you, he called out for you, knowing you’d reach out for him with the same amount of vigor. As he finally reached out for you, so close to having you in his arms once more, he was lost in the sight of you turning around, beaming at him, only for your expression to drop faster than his heart could. He hadn’t even seen it, hadn’t even thought about it, his sole focus on finding you. If he had paid more attention he might have remembered that he was not alone in this arena, that there were people here hunting you, that he was sharing delicate secrets by shouting them loudly, his mind too clouded by its current storm to even begin predicting the next.

He blinked once, twice, but your eyes were wide, no hesitation as you rushed forward. His mind tricking him with a false narrative of ease in a moment where he should have known better. You rushed for him, and he expected the sweet relief of holding you in his arms, but all you did was reach for his shoulders, spinning him around and out of the path of the tribute he could now see retreating back into the forest. He should have known better than to get lost in the euphoria of your presence, you’d always lecture him for it, ranting about how you’re not worth dying for. As he looked back over to you, expecting you to tell him exactly that and kiss him when he’d promise not to do it again, he wasn't smiling anymore either. His bubble shattered into pieces like the sand he was standing on, joining it in hopes that never came to be.

It was as if you hadn't blocked the hit at all, as if the dagger had found its way into his heart regardless. At first he didn't even see it, too caught up in the look of pain on your face, too determined to fix it for you, but he looked down to see he had assigned himself an impossible task.

He felt like a statue, ever forced to watch the violence of mankind without means of intervering. He wanted to envelop you in his arms and whisper assurances to you, but he was too scared that his white lies would be too crimson from the blood that was dripping down onto the beach. The beach, a place that held so many memories of the both of you, now forever stained by this single day.

Simple seconds ticked by, time he once thanked, betraying him. You dropped to the ground like a wave collapsing in on itself, holding a power too great that must now be returned. And the moment it did, the second your now limp body hit the sand beneath you, finding its final destination, he screamed once more. Maybe it was the shock being forced to wear off too soon, maybe it was the denial he didn't want to leave, but the sight before his own eyes was one he could no longer ignore.

He rushed for you, sliding onto his knees as he reached for you, shouting in agony for you to stand back up, to smile at him and cup his jaw like you always did when he was worried. He yelled at those around him, the people he called his friends, doing nothing to save you. And if he had been paying more attention, he would have heard the cannon just like them, would have heard the sound signaling it no longer mattered, because you were already gone. If he had been level headed he would have known that he was only attracted more attention from the other tributes out there, not that it would have mattered, he would have gladly stayed here for them to kill him, maybe he would have even wished for it, because his world would forever be incomplete without you. He would spend eternity searching for you even if he knew it was fruitless, because to him, you were absolutely worth dying for. Not that you’d let him, you would have never let him, you would lay down your own life before letting him sacrifice his, but he could do without the cruel reminder. 

Yes, he should have realized it was too late, but he couldn't, he couldn't hear anything other than the ringing in his ears from how loud he was screaming for you, desperate for you to comfort him, already longing to feel your fingers sifting through his hair, the one thing that calmed him down when nothing else could. He could feel someone reaching out to him, and he wished they were here to let him join you, wondering if you’d ever forgive him if he indulged the thought. But the touch didn’t bring relief, it was simply another painful truth trying to pull him into a now worthless world. 

He could hear them now, hear them talking about having to move, about getting him to move, it only made him cling to you harder. He could no longer feel your muscles confulsing in slight twitches against his fingers, the stillness was unsettling, but he wouldnt dare let go.

If only he could see the rose flush disappearing from your cheeks, the glimmer in your eyes fading to join the others amongst the stars, here you were, finally in his arms again, but he didn’t enjoy the feeling like he thought he would, here you were, reunited yet never having been able to say hello, never even being able to say goodbye. He wonders if he shouldn't have stopped to drink water from the stream he had passed, thinks about how he could have walked faster, not worried about a time limit he hadn’t even known existed, he ponders the possibilities from each and every second that had separated the two of you, every breath he took without you and every breath he’ll take longing for you now, wishing you’d be there to take it from him. Every step he took and every step he’ll be taking wishing you were at the end of it. 

He had been so sure he would see you soon, that you were still here because he could simply feel it, this time he felt it. He felt the connection being severed, and would spend the rest of his life holding on to his end of it. Would wonder for eternity what would happen if he'd only gotten here sooner.

[outmakingmoonshine]

Why does it kinda lowkey feel like Claire is to Sydney what Francie Fak is to Nat?

I'm sorry but this season told me Sydney could not care less about Claire or her having a place in Carmy's life whatsoever and I can only imagine if she did voice her opinions out loud it would sound a lot like how Nat speaks about Francie Fak.

Gif credit

The face Syd made and her response when Carmy mentioned Claire in 3x01 spoke volumes and It's absolutely reasonable that Syd thinks Carmy's so messed up this season bc he misses Claire but she doesn't ask him about it once.

She asked about Chef Terry twice, was very sympathetic in 3x05 and even tried to comfort him and make put a positive light on it when she saw he was down about Ever's funeral in 3x09. But she didn't say anything about Claire all season. She asked if he was ok a few times in regards to his mental state in S3 but she wouldn't go near the subject of Claire with a 10-foot pole!

This story is obviously going to end with Syd & Carmy finding some kind of deep lasting connection with each other, what would be the point of all the miscommunication and struggle to connect between them that's been a central part of their story for 3 seasons if it's not? And as it stands in the story right now, that wont be happening as long as Claire is around. If they wanted a Carmy&Claire with Syd as the platonic partner ending, Claire and Syd needed to be besties and that needed to happen when she was introduced in S2. But obviously Claire and her presence in Carmy's life is a big issue for Syd and I don't think that's gonna miraculously change anytime soon. Even if it did happen next season it's wont feel genuine or earned like every other real friendship in this show anyway.

Sidenote: While writing this I just read this amazing post by @thoughtfulchaos773 with some great observations and discussion by @currymanganese & @vacationship, please go check it out. Thank you to all of them!

Even Cicero seemed surprised by Syd's sage wisdom in 3x05. Whether she's never been in a relationship or not she could definitely give Carmy some kinda advice on Claire, even just to ask if he's ok after what happened or wants to talk about it. Especially bc the way he's acting this season seems like it's because of her and it's making their relationship and Syd's work-life harder...but she doesn't bring it up. Not one single time. It's interesting that she checked in with him and asked if he was ok about almost everything else that was clearly wrong all season, except Claire. But apparantly they have a "platonic intimate friendship" right? So why wont she talk to him about the thing that's clearly bothering him??!

Syd doesn't care about that relationship or want it to work out. And now I've read that post above, despite her obvious personal feelings for Carmy I think Syd clocked Claire's mean girl vibe in 2x05, the same way Claire clocked the vibe between Carmy & Syd. She knows Claire isn't good for Carmy otherwise even despite her feelings, I think she'd at least ask if he was ok after everything that happened and everyone hounding him about it. But all season she basically acted like Claire never even existed.

Syd should've put a stop to Carmy's nonsense in 3x02 when she was all the way done with him over the non-negotiables, she knew he was going way overboard then but she didn't stop him because that's how he was coping and it meant he'd be in the kitchen spending time with her which is how she's been trying to help him since the beginning. "Being there" like she told Cicero. It was slowly starting to work in 2x02 as well, Carmy was in a much better place mentally. If only Claire hadn't come along.

[peachhcs]

high school signing day | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy's feeling lost with her college decision, so she looks to the three people she admires the most.

1.5k words

this is totally not samy and will, but this was requested!! there's like a little small bit of angst, but only if you squint. btw i'm not 100% sure how high school signing days work bc my school never had them really, so i just guesses lol

au masterlist

the hughes sibling group chat burned into samy's skull while her thumb hung over the facetime button wondering if she should call them or just figure it out on her own. she hated bothering them, especially if they were out doing something because who wanted their younger sister bugging them when they were hanging out with friends?

that felt like the worst part about all of this. samy was the last one left out of her brothers. all of them were on their own now and while luke was still in michigan, it felt like he wasn't a lot of the time because of him being busy with college. the connection the four of them once shared slowly dissipated despite the promise they all made before quinn went to college.

"i promise we'll still talk everyday. we can't get rid of each other that easily. we're family," quinn glanced between his siblings as they stood in his freshly decorated dorm room.

"yeah, promise. we're all still in michigan, so we're not even that far away," jack had said with a slight eye roll. he wasn't as emotional as luke and samy were about their oldest brother leaving home.

talking everyday slowly turned to texting everyday which turned into twice a week if samy was lucky. she knew their lives would start becoming more important than texting the groupchat everyday, but when one of the most important things was hanging in the balance of samy's life, she wasn't quite sure if she could bring herself to call the three people who had been there for her entire life.

"just call them," samy muttered to herself.

somewhere, she gained some courage and clicked the facetime button where her screen split into four boxes waiting for them to pick up. her lip slipped between her teeth as she anxiously hoped one of them would answer.

luke connected first.

his face appeared with a small smile while samy watched him stick his airpods into his ears and walk somewhere which definitely meant she interrupted him from something.

"what's up?" the older boy wondered.

"hi, sorry. am i interrupting something?" the girl immediately asked.

"oh, no. i was just playing video games with some of the guys," luke shook his head, relieving some of the worries in the girl's chest.

quinn's square connected a second later. he looked quite comfortable in what must've been his apartment couch. "hi, what's up guys?"

"hi quinny," samy hummed, smiling at her oldest brother.

"hey squirt," quinn's little nickname made samy chuckle.

finally, jack joined the call from his new jersey apartment. he waved to the group, "whole gang is here. what's up?" the middle hughes wondered while their gazes fell to samy since she started the call.

"hi, i just wanted to talk if you guys aren't busy?" samy wondered.

"sure, what's up? is something wrong?" quinn's protective older brother instinct kicked in almost instantly making the girl smile a bit.

"no, not..not really. i'm just..thinking a lot lately with..signing day coming up," the younger brunette explained making her brothers quickly understand.

"oh right, mom mentioned that. have you picked a school yet?" jack asked.

"uh, that's the problem. i-i don't really know," samy frowned.

she'd been back and forth between michigan and boston for weeks now. both of them were such great schools and amazing soccer programs, she didn't know how to pick one. if she went to michigan, she'd continue her brother's legacy, but if she went to boston, she'd get to stick close to will and the guys she's grown so close over the last two years.

"what's got you stumped?" luke raised his eyebrow.

"i-i don't really know. they're both such good schools. i feel like i'm gonna let people down no matter which one i choose," the girl sighed a bit.

"wait, who are letting down? mom and dad?" jack grew confused.

"well, yeah, if i don't go to michigan and you guys in a way and i let down will and the guys if i don't choose boston," samy sunk down into her bed.

"wait, no, no, you're not gonna let us down if you don't go to michigan. you know that, right?" luke quickly cut in.

"i-i mean.. yeah," samy's voice grew quiet.

"we don't care where you go, samy. as long as you're happy that's all that counts. would it be awesome if you came to umich? yeah. my heart wouldn't be broken if you chose boston though. plus, i know mom and dad will be happy for you no matter what?" luke quickly reassured his sister, but she only shrugged.

"i just feel so..lost, i guess. i mean how did you guys even choose?" she mostly asked quinn and luke since jack didn't go to college.

"quinn sort of influenced my decision, but i guess i just loved the atmosphere michigan brought. it's like home to me. you just gotta choose where you most feel at home," luke hummed.

"if that's boston, that's great. if it's still here, that's also great. no one's gonna hate you if you choose one or the other," quinn added in.

a little smile danced across the girl's lips. "yeah, i guess you're right. maybe i'm a homebody, but michigan will always feel like home to me."

large smiles grew across her brother's lips hearing her say that. they would've been happy wherever samy ended up, but all of them were secretly hoping she'd land on michigan.

"you guys sure you can't come out for my signing day?" samy asked half joking, half not. she was mostly asking quinn and jack since luke would most definitely be there living so close to home.

"sorry, squirt. i'm not sure if i can get the time off," quinn frowned.

"yeah, me neither, but we'll be there in spirit. maybe mom can facetime us in!" jack exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood.

facetime us in. that phrase was common in the household nowadays. there were a lot of things samy's brothers have missed because of their obligations which she completely understood, but sometimes it hurt. she never once missed any of brothers most important days, yet they seemed to have missed nearly all of hers.

not to mention, facetime calls got old really fast.

"that's okay. i'll think of you. i better let you guys go though. thanks for talking," samy put on her best smile despite the pit in her stomach.

"of course. anytime, squirt. love you," quinn said while jack and luke echoed his sentiments. samy hung up first leaving the other three still on the call.

"are you guys for real not coming down?" luke wondered, tone somewhat bitter but not quite.

"i mean..i would if i could, but with a game coming up i just don't know if i can swing it," jack began.

"come on, she's been there for us our entire lives. she's been dragged to more of our shit than us to hers. the least we could do is be there for her for once," luke didn't mean to sound so angry, but he couldn't help it because he too was one of the forgotten siblings jack and quinn slowly stopped showing up for when they left the house.

quinn and jack's expressions fell soft and it seemed to ebe decided then as texts and calls were quickly sent.

—

samy sat at the table with her parents making up the last of the display. they all sported the infamous blue and yellow colors along with a banner laid over the table saying university of michigan. the decision seemed so easy after that conversation with her brothers and samy was glad.

she spotted will, gabe, ryan, drew, aram, jacob, and will vote up in the gymnasium stands watching down with proud smiles on their faces. sure, it hurt that they'd be separated in the fall, but the brunette knew they were all extremely proud of her.

samy's eyes weren't on the doors that opened a few seconds later with three very special guests walking in. instead, she watched her mom fix more things on the table that she also didn't catch her dad recording her.

"i'm glad we have another baby wolf in the family," quinn spoke first, instantly catching samy's attention.

she probably gave herself whiplash with how fast her head swiveled around to meet all three of her brother's gazes.

"o-oh my god. what are you guys doing here?" the girl exclaimed, jumping up to collect them into hugs.

"you'd really think we'd miss something like this?" jack laughed, nuzzling his head into his sister's head.

"i'm really glad you guys are here," samy grinned.

"wouldn't miss this for the world," quinn beamed as well.

after the hugs and reuinions, the entire family crowded around samy's table as she got the paper ready alongside the woman's soccer coach. her high school coach also stood behind her while the photographer got ready for the big moment.

they staged a handshake pose before samy began signing her name across the paper, beginning her contact with the ncaa.

"samy hughes, university of michigan women's soccer!"

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

Straw Hats Cleanliness Rankings

These are my headcanons for how clean each crew member is! From most clean to least!

edit: I'm so mad I forgot to copy and paste usopp god forgive me

Nami: This girl is constantly bathing. We all know she's a little boujee so cleanliness and presentation are everything to her. Not to mention how much she values the privacy and relaxation bathing provides on the Sunny. Time: every day, sometimes twice.

Chopper: considering he's the ship's doctor, Chopper strongly believes in personal hygiene. I think he'd probably bathe with the girls occasionally because it's fun and sweet for everyone! Time: every day.

Robin: Bathing is important, but Robin isn't someone who's afraid to get her hands a little dirty. She'd probably bathe pretty regularly but not as frequently as Nami. Time: every other day.

Sanji: As a chef, Sanji believes that keeping his hands clean and safe for cooking is essential. He might not bathe as much as his other crewmates, but rest assured that hes always clean, presentable and smells amazing (that's how you get ladies, after all.) Time: every two days.

Brook: He'd scrub his skin, if he had any! Since Brook is all bones, he would keep them free of debri but wouldn't be too concerned with bathing. Time: No bathing but spraying down!

Jimbei: Since Jimbei spends a lot of time in water as a fishman, I believe that while he is overall pretty clean, this might affect how often he chooses to bathe. After all, why bother if he's just gonna get wet again anyway? Time: every few days

Franky: Listen, I'm not saying Franky doesn't bathe, but growing up, it just wasn't something that was on his radar. Sure, he bathes and washes his hands after working with oil, but otherwise, it's not really a regular or vital part of his routine. Time: every week

Usopp: Stink boy. Again, he's not necessarily dirty, but he doesn't think about bathing that much between working on little gadgets and spending time with his friends. He'll be the first to notice any stench, though, and will procrastinate taking care of it until someone notices. Then he'll blame the smell on someone else and quickly clean himself. Time: every week and a half

Zoro: I'm sorry ladies, but I don't think Zoro bathes all that often. Training is his priority when he isn't in battle, so he'd figure what's the point in bathing if he's just gonna get all sweaty again? Once his smell bothers him enough, he typically takes the initiative to go do what he needs to, but overall, he probably bathes a lot less often than most of his crewmates. Time: probably week and a half, sometimes two weeks

Luffy: I truly do not think this boy has touched soap (by choice) in his life. Stinky, musky, and sweaty, Luffy would need to be sprayed down by his crew when he forgets to bathe. In his defense, for a lot of his childhood, he was on his own with his brothers! He only ever bathed regularly when Dadan would make them, and since then, it's not been a priority. Time: AT LEAST two weeks but Nami is not afraid to bust out the water gun

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being harsh to one of my group mates?

(📳🎓)

For context, this is in uni, and most of us are between 18 to 20 years old. We've been assigned a group project we need to do basically, and while there were originally 8 of us, for the longest time there were only 5 of us. The other 3 were unavailable for a variety of reasons - until within the past two or so weeks, one of them (I'll call A) started showing up to some lectures. Not all of them mind you, but a couple of them.

Initially I was a bit 'ehhh' on A, simply because he hasn't shown up until now. However the rest of the group wanted to give him a chance, and for the sake of fairness we did. And for the most part, imo, he's been unreliable. He showed up recently to one of our more important sessions (the session essentially being producing a bulk of the work we'd need to do) and was genuinely helpful, but for me the pressing issues I have with him are that

1. He's inconsistent. He only got to that session because we prodded him about it on WhatsApp, and I'm sure that if we didn't he wouldn't have turned up at all

2. He rarely if at all communicates with us. He responded to one person (who I'll call D) twice and another person once. While in person he's a lot better, getting in touch with him otherwise is essentially impossible.

The kicker recently is that in person, we agreed to have a one on one meeting where we'd talk about what we've done so far and what he'll be able to help out with in the future. I arrived to the location, and waited... He never showed up. I texted him multiple times to let him know that if he's late he needs to tell me, and as I'm writing this he still hasn't even bothered to read the messages at all. I let D, who's our group leader, know and they believe he shouldnt share our grade. I agree.

However, the reason why I feel I'm the AH is because he says he's been having some mental health issues. He didn't specify what, just that it's 'been hard getting out of bed' and the like. He may have mentioned depression, but I also can't 100% confirm it. The rest of the group believe we should give him another chance, saying that depression is hard and that we can't expect him to be fine 100% now, and they've even said that D themself is inconsistent when it comes to showing up to meetings, which is true. They say that they themselves have had similar struggles in the past and they sympathise.

While that's fair, I'm also of the opinion that well... He hasn't even done a lot of work. Like at all. He helped during that session but has otherwise done fuck all. From a practical standpoint he doesn't deserve a grade simply because he's done essentially nothing since we started, even if it is because he's been having a bad time. However, he also hasn't had much time to prove himself that he is capable of helping, so it could be that I'm just pre-judging him out of cynicism.

It might also not help that I'm a very practical person when it comes to mental health - I deal with my own shit, tend not to burden anyone with my issues if I can, and just get on with things. My anxieties were rough before uni, and while it's gotten better in some areas it's gotten worse in others. Yknow, stuff like money, if I'm even eating properly, general life, personal circumstances, all that shit. However it might be that A is the type to get buried in his feelings, and my more practical viewpoint is me being way too harsh on someone who is struggling.

While I understand where my group is coming from, I still don't think A should share our grade. Imo he hasnt shown much initiative if at all for the group, and even if he was struggling the fact that he just generally hasn't done anything means I don't think he should share our grade. AITA?

TLDR: Guy in a group has done not much in terms of participating in our group project, because he's been struggling mentally up until now. Group is mostly sympathetic and wants to give him another chance, while I think otherwise, believing he's had enough chances already.

What are these acronyms?

[itsbeeble]

Chapter 1: Big Ego, Slightly Bigger Bank Account

SUMMARY: Choi Chanhee has a hard time trusting others, and when his mother ropes you into a favor, he makes it clear that he doesn't like you one bit. After a few tense run-ins, Chanhee realizes that he needs your help to get his...persistent ex-girlfriend off his back. The problem? You're not exactly in a forgiving mood. But for his mother's sake, you're willing to play along— just this once.

GENRE: Angst, fluff

PAIRING: Choi Chanhee x fem!reader

WC: ~8k

THE BOYZ Masterlist EWO(TYRA) Masterlist

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie @captain-brie

FIC TAGLIST: @sanaxo-o @from-izzy

WARNINGS: Chanhee's mom is kinda weird, for the sake of the plot his parents own a shoe store, chanhee openly mocks the reader's social status, stalker accusations, mentions of toxic and somewhat abusive relationships, swearing, Changmin playing peace keeper, chanhee is actually a total douche he is like the entire warning the warning is just CHANHEE, mentions of blood and bodily injuries but very brief

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: I'm not late I was just edging you (totally definitely wasn't at a birthday dinner)

Her eyes burning into the side of your head is all you can think about. Dark, determined eyes that haven’t left your figure since you’d stepped onto the train. You’re sure you look a mess— hair falling out of the bun you’d carefully pinned up at the crack of dawn, mascara smudged from rubbing at your eyes repeatedly, shirt untucked from your skirt and entirely unflattering on your body, feet shifting uncomfortably in the well-worn heels you’d worn practically every day since starting your job in Seoul two years ago. Maybe she’s judging you. People like to do that. 

It’s starting to bother you, however, and you can’t seem to distract yourself hard enough from how she stares almost unblinkingly. You’ve tried to distract yourself by staring out the window, putting on your headphones and blasting music, playing game after game of Sudoku on your nearly dead phone, but nothing seems to work. 

You huff, your body sagging a bit as you finally cave and look at the woman, expecting her to be where she had been for the entire twenty-minute train ride so far. 

She’s not, and you’re becoming more confused by the minute. I could’ve sworn she was right—

“Jesus fu—” you cut yourself off, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your yelp when the woman appears directly to your left, that same determined look in her eyes but now with a bit of…is that…is that mischief? You aren’t sure, but it’s creeping you the hell out. Heads turn to look at you, but you shoot them a look that tells them to mind their own business. Nosy bitches. “Can I help you?” 

The woman clicks her tongue. “Let me look at you.”

You blink. “Excuse me?” 

“Let me look at you,” she repeats and grabs you by the arms to turn you fully toward her.  

“What is your problem?” You try to pull away from her, but for such a small woman she is incredibly strong, holding you in place as she looks you over once, twice, three times before humming. “Hey, ma’am, I don’t know what your problem is but—”

“I have a son your age, you know,” the woman interrupts with a charming smile. “He’s very handsome, very single.”

“That’s…great?” You shuffle away from her as best you can, which is quite difficult when there are dozens of people crowded into one subway car trying to get home. 

“You’re single, aren’t you?” 

“I—I mean—”

“What am I saying,” one of her hands slaps against her forehead. You look up, praying that the next stop is yours. “Of course you are! Look at you, no ring, no light behind those eyes.” 

Your eyes bug out of your head, your jaw dropping. What the fuck? 

“I— who do you think you are?” 

Her eyes meet yours briefly, the mischief overtaking the determination. The way she looks at you is unnerving, and you can only thank god that your stop is coming up next. 

“I’m sorry, dear. I can be a bit too direct sometimes. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” She squeezes your bicep and pulls back slightly as the doors open. You walk toward them. She follows you, and your eye twitches. “My husband always says it’s my biggest flaw.”

“There are worse flaws to have,” you dismiss, glancing around quickly to try to find a quick escape route. There is none, the crowd funnelling you and this woman toward the only exit to the station. 

“You’re correct,” the woman smiles at you, her arm looping with yours like you were her child. “You look like a hard worker. My son would like that.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mm. He’s famous, you know. You might know him!” 

“I don’t think I do,” you tell her, “I don’t keep up with media that much.”

“Ah, you like to disconnect?” She nods approvingly. Why are you letting this woman figure you out? Maybe you’ve been single for a bit too long if you’re letting a desperate mother try to set you up with her “rich, famous, handsome son who happens to be about your age.” She could be spewing total bullshit for all you know. Her son could be forty years old. She might not even have a son! “He would like that about you.”

“Do you…is there something I could help you with?” You turn to face her, stopping just outside of the train station and enduring the nasty comments you get about being in the way of everyone. “Is there a reason you keep bringing up your son?”

“My son has been horrifically single for a very long time,” the woman admits, tugging you along so you aren’t in anyones way. “His friends are all starting to date now that their company is allowing them to, but he’s been struggling. He’s very particular about the people he goes out with.”

The setting sun casts a warm glow over the two of you, and you squint when the light hits your eyes. “And that’s my problem because…” 

“I think you would be exactly what he’s looking for.” 

Oh?

You look down at her curiously. She’s looking straight ahead.

It’s another moment before you speak, the sounds of the city echoing around you but somehow they feel muffled in comparison to your conversation. 

“You don’t even know me.” 

She smiles.

“Oh, but I think my son might like to.” 

Your heel catches on a crack in the pavement, and time seems to slow as you fall. The shoe fully comes off your foot, and pain shoots through your knees when you hit the ground. You don’t yelp or cry out. You barely make a sound save for the pained whimper you can’t catch. The woman practically cries for you, dropping to her knees next to you and shifting you so you’re not pressing the fresh wounds into the ground any longer. Your tights are ripped, slowly soaking in a thin layer of blood. Your palms are covered in scratches, not bleeding but raw and stinging. 

“Shit,” you mumble, looking helplessly at the shoe that had come off your foot. The heel is completely detached, the leather torn and entirely impossible to fix at this point. “Shit.”

“Are you alright?” The woman holds your hands in her own, examining your palms and pulling a small packet of tissues out of her purse to help clean your knees a bit. “I’m so sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have distracted you—”

“It’s fine,” you tell her and take the tissue from her hand with a little smile. You’re dying inside, sure, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I promise, it’s all good. It wasn’t your fault. I was the one careless enough to not look where I was walking.” 

She frets nonetheless, scolding herself and helping you stand. A smile, oh-so faint, crosses your lips. That boy, her son, is lucky to have her. Anyone would be lucky to have her in their lives— as a mother, a daughter, a sister, wife. You don’t know much about this woman, hell you don’t know shit about this woman, but your friends have always said you were good at reading people. 

“Even still—”

“Ma’am,” you put your hand on her shoulder as both a reassurance and a stabilizer as you remove the destroyed shoes from your feet. The relief is immediate, as is the ache in your tendons from suddenly flattening your feet. “I promise you, you did nothing wrong. Thank you for helping me.” 

She smiles back at you, kissing her teeth a bit at the sight of your heels. “You better have another pair of those at home.”

Your smile becomes a grimace and she gets her answer. Her forehead creases as she frowns again. 

“How often do you wear these?” 

You almost don’t answer her, too embarrassed. “Every day.”

“These are at least…” she examines the shoes— the leather wrapping them, the heel, the soles, everything. She looks like a professional. “These are at least from the spring of two years ago. They’re practically worn down to the nub. How are you still comfortably wearing these?”

“Just don’t have the time or money to get new ones, I suppose.” You shrug your shoulders, and her frown deepens. “It’s fine. I have, like, super glue at home that I can use and get them fixed.”

The woman gasps and clutches her chest as if you kicked a damn puppy, her eyes going wide and her jaw practically hitting the sidewalk. 

“Absolutely not!” She holds the shoes close to her chest, ensuring that you won’t be able to grab them back from her. “You will never be wearing these godforsaken shoes again, not if I have anything to do with it!” 

Your shoulders slump. “Then what am I supposed to wear for work?” 

“My husband and I own a shop a few blocks from here. What time do you work tomorrow?” 

“I don’t. Fridays are my day off.” 

“Good,” she nods approvingly. “A good work week, hard worker— no, that’s not what we’re focusing on now. Come to our shop tomorrow morning, I’ll get you fitted with brand new shoes— two pairs, even. On the house.” 

It’s your turn to gasp. “I— I couldn’t ask that! That’s your shop— your income! I could never take two pairs, let alone one without paying—”

“You forget that my son— again, your age— is famous. We won’t be missing much. We mostly keep the shop open to keep ourselves busy.” The woman (you still don’t know what her name is. It’s bothering you just a bit) beams at you. “Please. Let me do this for you. I can even introduce you to Chanhee.” 

Ah, so that’s her son’s name.

You bite down on your tongue, thinking carefully about her offer. The shoes, not meeting her son. 

“Let me pay for one pair at least,” you bargain. She goes to argue, but you hold up a hand to stop her. “One pair, or none at all. Take your pick.”

A smile laced with…—is that pride? You’re almost certain it’s pride— causes her lips to curl. “One pair of free shoes, and one paid for. Sounds like a deal to me.”

The sun has set and the street light above you flickers to life. There’s a bit of a breeze now, goosebumps rising on your arms. 

“It’s dark out,” you murmur. “Let me walk you to your shop. I’m sure your husband is worried about you.”

The woman nods. “He’s been calling me since we got off the train.”

Silence for a moment, and then the air is filled with bubbles of laughter. You laugh until your cheeks hurt, until they feel as if they’ll be trapped in a permanent smile. 

“I like you Missus…” you trail off, your feet padding lightly across the ground as you walk.

“Choi. Missus Choi,” Mrs. Choi finally tells you her name, and you almost hit the ground in relief. Why wasn’t that the first thing you asked? “And soon that’ll be your name, too.”

Chanhee deemed himself to be a lucky man. Loving parents, good friends, his dreams being achieved left and right at such a young age. 

Yes, he certainly was lucky. 

Most days, that is.

Today, unfortunately, it seemed his luck had run dry and likely went down the drain like most of his coffee. Or, perhaps, it went wherever Eric brought his only good umbrella, leaving him stuck with the shitty leaking umbrella. Or it was in the nearest trash bin alongside his favorite shoes having torn the sole clean off. 

“I don’t understand how you managed to do any of that.” Changmin clicks his tongue, his head rolling back as Chanhee vents his frustrations. Only 8AM and Chanhee was already sick of this day. “The coffee I get, but the umbrella and your favorite shoes? Someone has to be out to get you, I fear.” 

“Tell me about it,” Chanhee scoffs. “Honestly, I feel like it may have been Taeha.”

Jung Taeha, his most recent…ex of sorts. Chanhee had met her outside his parents’ shop which, in hindsight, should have been a bit of a sign for him. She’d been there, almost as if she was waiting for him, and introduced herself in a manner which was most definitely rehearsed.

My name is Jung Taeha, let’s go out for coffee some time!

A smarter version of him, in some other universe, would have spotted the red flags from miles away. Alas, this universe’s Choi Chanhee was dumb as a rock on occasion. On many occasions, in fact. 

After six months of temper tantrums, his bank account being slowly chipped away, constant phone calls, and many attempts at dragging him away from work under the guise of “being lonely”, Chanhee finally snapped. Six weeks ago, he had broken things off as gently as he could. He couldn’t stand her, couldn’t stand how demanding she was. 

This isn’t working out. Get your things and leave.

She’d destroyed his apartment on her way out. She threw lamps, knocked over tables and his dresser (a fact that still stunned him), broke plates, cut holes into his Gucci shirts. Chanhee wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if she had cut his shoes apart. 

“You sure they weren’t salvageable?” Changmin asks, his hand wrapping around the handle of the little shoe shop on the outskirts of Seoul. “Maybe, like, buy some gorilla glue or something.” Chanhee’s jaw nearly hits the ground, his hand coming to press against his chest in dismay.

“I can’t believe you would even suggest something so…so…so…” 

Chanhee stutters over his words, inevitably falling silent as he lets his eyes fall on a figure laughing with his mother. A woman, likely his age, gripping the seat she was in and tilting her head back as she laughed unabashedly. He could see the way her eyes wrinkled at the edges, a smile curling over her face and nearly reaching her ears.

The door Changmin had been holding open closes on Chanhee, forcing him to stumble forward and tripping the motion sensor above the door. A bell chimes and startles him out of the trance that had been placed on him. 

“Chanhee!” His father beams, rounding the corner and clapping him on the back. “What are you doing here so early? Or at all, really. Shouldn’t you be at the studio? And you, Changmin. Shouldn’t you be there  as well?”

Changmin rubs the back of his head sheepishly, tucking into his chest a bit. 

“My shoes broke,” Chanhee says, mourning the loss of the sleek black Dior loafers. “I need to pick up a pair to hold me off for the rest of the week at minimum.”

His father hums, turning to look at where his mother had finally risen to her feet, the woman with her rising as well. Chanhee locked eyes with her, and noted how quickly she became red in the cheeks, turning her gaze to the ground. Great, he thought and kissed the back of his teeth, another stalker trying to get to me through my parents.

“I can help you in just a few minutes, darling.” His mother promised, grinning widely as she led the girl to the counter. “Now, Y/N dear, I know we discussed you paying for one pair rather than the two, but—”

“If you try to get me to pay for anything less than what we agreed on,” you say with a teasing lift in your voice, “I’ll walk out of here with nothing at all. Alright, Mrs. Choi?” 

Chanhee quirks an eyebrow, his lip curling with disdain. So you’d hunted for his family, then?

“Dear,” his mom places a gentle hand over yours, “I can’t help it if suddenly there’s a deal on this particular brand that says you get a free pair with every pair of socks you buy.” 

What?

You seem to echo Chanhee’s thoughts, hardly able to process what was happening before his mother had rung in the socks and marked both shoes as free, taking your card and swiping it. You jump forward, practically bending over the counter to try and grab her before she can finish processing your purchase.

“Mrs. Choi!” You exclaim defiantly. “I told you that I wanted to pay!”

“And you did,” Chanhee’s dad jumps in gleefully, “just not for what you expected.”

“You both are terrible!”

“What’s going on?” Chanhee finally jumps in, having enough of this interaction. He couldn’t fathom how his parents were just…letting you use them. “Who is this…girl?” 

His lip curls, and you flinch. Good. Know who you’re messing with. Changmin jabs him in the side, shooting him a nasty look. 

“Oh, Chanhee darling, this is Y/N!” His mother chirps, grinning and ignoring the clear attitude he was flooding the building with. “I met her last night on the train home!”

“And she’s here for…?”

“Shoes, clearly.” Changmin rolls his eyes. “God, Chanhee. You’re so dense sometimes.” Your shoulders sag with relief, but Chanhee hardly gives you time to breathe. 

“Did you really have to manipulate my parents?” It goes so quiet that you could likely hear a pin drop from across the store. 

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrow, your lips parting slightly with your confusion. Chanhee hates to admit it, but you play the part of the fool rather nicely.

“If you wanted to get my attention that badly,” his words are icy and Chanhee sees you curl in on yourself a bit more, “you should’ve just stalked the company. Why did you manipulate my parents into your little scheme?”

“What company?” The confusion on your face is so close to genuine that Chanhee is almost impressed. 

“Choi Chanhee,” his mother hisses, taking a small step toward her son to knock some sense into him, but you stop her with a small motion of your shaking hand. 

“Don’t act dumb,” Chanhee’s nose curls and you nearly bark out a laugh. “We both know you’re just here to score my number or something.” 

Your whole body is trembling, not just your hand. Your body is shaking like a leaf, your lip quivering to hold back words that could make this situation far more embarrassing and hurtful than it already is for you. Chanhee sees the well of tears in your eyes and how you blink rapidly, tipping your head back or to the side in order to keep them at bay. In normal circumstances, he may have offered comfort, however he was far too aggravated to bother. 

“Mrs. Choi, thank you so much for the shoes.” You finally tear your gaze away from Chanhee, pressing your hand into her arm. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” 

“Y/N, dear,” the woman starts, but you just shake your head.

“I think your son would prefer if I left. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” A meek smile, and you start to make your way to the door. Chanhee’s narrowed eyes are on you the whole time, his arms folded across his chest. 

“It was nice meeting you!” Changmin calls out as you push the door open, grinning and waving like you’d been the best of friends. Something about that creates an irk in Chanhee, his teeth grinding together and his lips twisted into a scowl. You don’t turn around or do anything to respond to the man, just letting the bell chime above you as the door swings open. When it shuts again, there’s a tense silence between the four. 

“Did you have to be so rude?” Chanhee’s father grunts, shifting behind the counter to organize a stack of gift cards and receipts. “She was a lovely girl.”

“She was stalking you guys!”

“She was not!” His mother snaps, shutting down any chance of him arguing with a nasty look that sends shivers down his spine. The last time he’d seen that look, she had been about to punish him for sneaking out in the middle of the night when he was fifteen years old. “If anything, I was basically stalking her.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” He can feel a headache coming on, his head tilting back with a heavy sigh. 

“She has no idea who you are, Channie.” 

“That’s bulls— that’s not true! Otherwise, she wouldn’t—” be here is what Chanhee wants to say, but he catches himself. “She wouldn’t have been so close to you if she didn’t!”

“I befriended her last night,” Mrs. Choi folds her arms across her chest, matching the attitude her son can’t seem to put away. “I met her on the train, thought she was pretty and sweet, and maybe good for you. I befriended her so I could introduce her to you, but she ended up falling and breaking her shoes because of me. I told her to come here today so I could get her some new ones—”

“What, she couldn’t afford to get her own?” Chanhee scoffs, and a newspaper hits the counter with a loud crack. He jumps, dipping his head at the nasty look his father gives him. 

“Don’t interrupt your mother, Choi Chanhee.” Chanhee bites down on his tongue and Changmin clicks his tongue, expressing his clear disappointment in his friend. 

“That girl has worked her tail off day and night in this godforsaken city just to hold onto the job that, quite honestly, she is too qualified for. She had been wearing the shoes I broke since she first moved to Seoul, and she told me she was going to glue them back together because she couldn’t afford it. Don’t you dare say anything about what people can afford, Choi Chanhee. You should know better.” 

He can practically hear Changmin’s thoughts. He just knows that the man is laughing to himself, practically screaming oop, we got him! A small part of him feels guilty about the accusations he had senslessly thrown at you, but the larger part of him is too prideful to admit to his wrongs, forcing him to stand his ground even under the murderous look from his father and the disappointment from his mother. 

“What do you want me to do? It’s not like I can apologize now. She’s already gone and we’ll probably never see her again.”

“Well,” Mr. Choi smiles coyly, “you better hope you find that girl again. Otherwise you’re cut off from family dinners.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffs. “Like you guys would keep me away from family. Your whole thing is that family is the most important thing.”

“Is that so?” 

“You’re joking.” Chanhee’s eyes bug out of his head when his brother blocks him from getting in the door. 

“Sorry, dude,” Dongmin shrugs, seemingly apologetic but there’s nothing but pure mischief in his eyes. “Ma wasn’t kidding when she said you were barred from dinners until you found that girl and apologized.”

“She can’t be— ugh,” Chanhee groans loudly, stomping his foot on the stone steps below him. “How the does she expect me to find this girl and get her to accept an apology from me? I was a total jerk and I definitely don’t feel bad about it.” 

Dongmin frowns. “That’s kinda shitty, Chanhee.”

“Well, it’s true! I was trying to protect my family from— from— ugh!”

“Chanhee,” Dongmin steps forward and purses his lips. “I get that your relationship with Taeha kinda ruined you and you still aren’t back from that, and we get it. We really do. But the thing is…not everyone is like that, and not everyone is out to use you and your rich boy credit card. Some people are just living their lives.”

“But I didn’t know that!”

“And that’s your problem.” Dongmin’s hands find his younger brother’s shoulders, shaking him gently as he speaks. “You just assume the worst in people now. I miss the old Chanhee who loved every stranger he met whether they knew who he was or not. Whatever,” Dongmin hesitates and scowls, “this version of Chanhee is, we don’t like him. Do whatever you have to do to fix it. Fuck, hang out with this girl once you find her. Take her on a date. Just…just fix this and yourself.”

For two days now, Chanhee had received reality check after reality check. The first had been from his father. The second from his mother. Then from his members, and now from his brother. Each one said the same. Fix your shit, we don’t want to put up with mopey bitch Chanhee anymore.

Well.

Not exactly that, but it was implied. 

So, when the door shut in Chanhee’s face, he had no choice but to stomp back to the sleek black sedan he’d parked along the side of the road in front of their house. The neighborhood they lived in was quiet enough that he didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing him mutter profanities to himself. 

The shoes Mrs. Choi had gifted you fit practically like a glove, far better than your previous pair and still more comfortable. No amount of thanks could truly show the older woman how grateful you were. You felt more at ease with the worry of your shoes finally breaking in the past. 

Unfortunately, not all of your worries can be solved with a simple gift from a funny old woman.

No, some of your problems came in the form of that woman’s son, Choi Chanhee. The knowledge that he seemed to hate you more than anything in the world had scarred you. His words were imprinted into your brain like a tattoo, replaying over and over again throughout the next week. 

Immediately after leaving the shoe shop that day, you’d googled his name and immediately felt your heart drop to your feet. She hadn’t been joking about her son being rich and famous. The more you think about it the more you wish you had never stepped foot onto that train, let alone into that shop. 

“I can help whoever is next!” 

The barista calling out from behind the register startles you out of your thoughts. There’s still about four people in front of you, each of them looking about as tired as you feel at 7:25AM. You drum your fingers against your purse, your skin making a quiet tapping noise against the cool leather. 

“And here I thought I would be getting out of an apology.” A voice behind you makes you jump. It had been so quiet in the line, most people just wanting to get their coffee and be on their way. “Guess I’m not that lucky anymore.”

You turn your body around fully, taking in the face of the one person you’d been dreading seeing again. 

Choi Chanhee stands behind you dressed in a white button-up shirt and slacks with a black mask covering most of his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes, however. They’d caught your attention while at the store— before they’d narrowed at you and filled with nothing but malice. They were soft. All of his features were soft and you can see why he’d become so popular. If his hatred wasn’t pointed at you, maybe you’d have grown to love him like his mother wanted. 

“Do I know you?” This time you truly play the fool, wanting nothing to do with him if you can help it. His eyes roll, and he tosses his head a bit to move the short strands of black hair out of his face. 

“Don’t play dumb this time. I know you know who I am now,” he scolds lightly. There’s a lightness in his voice now and you wonder if it’s because you’re in front of people who might know who he is. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, toeing at the ground like a child who was about to get punished. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, me too.” Chanhee sighs, shifting slightly closer to you so he wouldn’t have to talk so loud. The less attention drawn to the two of you, the better, you supposed. You certainly don’t want to be in any of those damn tabloids. What a nightmare that would be to explain to your family. “Let’s get our coffee and talk somewhere else, alright?” 

“I can help whoever is next!” You step up to the register, Chanhee a step behind you, and smile at the barista. Her eyes flash with recognition when she sees the celebrity, but she doesn’t say anything. “What can I get for you?”

“Medium iced latte, please,” you murmur and reach into your purse to pull out your wallet. Chanhee clears his throat and presses his hand against your arm to lightly push you to the side. You frown at him and open your mouth to speak but he’s faster than you.

“Add a medium americano to that order please.” The barista nods, her fingers moving quickly over the buttons. Most likely a symptom of her nerves. 

“You’re—” the barista’s voice cracks and her face flushes red. You can’t help but smile. “You’re New, right? From The Boyz?” Chanhee smiles beneath his mask, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he does a total personality flip for this girl.

You watch the brief interaction, the smile still on your face as he talks animatedly with this young girl and pays for the drinks. He pulls down his mask so he can be seen in the selfie she takes, his plush lips curling into a sweet smile that part of you wishes was aimed in your direction.

“You interact really well with your fans.” You comment, still smiling a bit as you make your way over to the opposite end of the counter. Chanhee tugs his mask back over his face, eyeing you cautiously. 

“I’m a nice person, believe it or not.”

“I’d like to believe it,” you shrug, “but I haven’t seen that side of you so I can’t really trust you.” 

Chanhee sticks his hands in his pockets, tapping his shoes against the ground. “That’s not my problem.”

Your smile drops and you turn away from him to watch as drinks slide across the counter for customers to grab. Your eyes are stinging and you manage to convince yourself, just barely, that he was joking. 

“Iced latte for Y/N!” You step forward, almost too quickly to seem normal, and grab your drink. Chanhee’s comes out a moment after your, and you don’t wait for him to get it before you’re walking out the door and into the brisk morning air of mid-October. You walk quickly, admitting to yourself that he most certainly wasn’t joking and that these stupid comments from a stupid man with a stupid fucking ego are truly starting to get to you. 

Your office is only nine blocks from this shop, a walk you can do in a bit under ten minutes. You pick up your pace when you hear Chanhee call out your name. 

Unfortunately for you, Chanhee has longer legs and is very determined. 

“What was that for?” He whines, and there’s another brief moment where you want to smile.

“What do you even want, Choi Chanhee?” You spit out the words like venom, and Chanhee flinches back. 

“I already told you I wanted to apologize.”

“So do it and go away. Better yet,” you hold up a finger. “Don’t say anything and just leave. I can tell Mrs. Choi that you apologized and then we never have to see each other again.”

Chanhee looks at you, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. “Is that what you really want?”

You take a shaking breath but don’t answer him. Seven blocks until you reach your office. You merge with the crowd of people waiting for the sidewalk light to turn green. Chanhee turns your body so you’re facing him with his hands on the sides of your arms. It feels like he’s scorching your skin, his hands warm despite the cold weather. 

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet now with the noise of the city around you. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. It was inappropriate and unnecessary. I apologize.”

For a moment you stare blankly at him, something that makes him a bit nervous.

“You’re just saying that because your mom wants you to, aren’t you?” Chanhee scoffs. 

“Well, yeah, obviously. She banned me from family dinners until I apologize and she has this sixth sense about if we do what she says or not.”

You bite your tongue, nodding your head. Of course, that’s why he’s doing it. Not because he actually wants to apologize, but because he’s going to get something out of it. 

“You know what, Chanhee—” Someone slams into your back before you can say anything and you yelp. 

Ther sound of plastic cracking fills your ears, and a pair of arms wrap around you to keep you from hitting the ground. Cold liquid splashes against your shirt, brown standing out against the white fabric. Someone swears loudly. 

You pull back from Chanhee, and a knot forms in your throat. Your coffee is all over his front, soaking into the fabric and dripping the excess onto the filthy pavement below you. 

“Chanhee, I’m so—” your voice betrays you and tears well in your eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Let me— I have napkins in my purse—” 

“It’s fine,” Chanhee waves a hand to stop you, but you don’t listen and continue reaching into your bag for a bundle of napkins. “Y/N, I’m telling you it’s okay. It’s just some coffee.”

“But— but it’s all over your shirt, and this was probably insanely expensive, and I just—”

“You’re right,” Chanhee interrupts you with a roll of his eyes. You look up at him, the napkins in your hand soaked with coffee and pressed against his shirt. 

“What?”

“I said you’re right,” he shrugs. “This was your fault. And this shirt was incredibly expensive.” He takes the napkins out of your hand, leaning down a bit so only you can hear him. There’s a glint in his eyes that you don’t like it. “More expensive than you could ever hope to afford.”

There’s a new found anger in your eyes now. 

“Go to hell, Chanhee.”

“The fuck happened to you?” Changmin lounges against the couch in the studio with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Chanhee just shakes his head, unbuttoning the silken fabric of his Dior shirt. The coffee had dried on his walk to the company, fifteen blocks in the opposite direction you’d been walking in, thanks to the sun and some cold air he hoped he would never have to walk in again.

“That girl from my parents’ shop spilled her coffee all over me.” 

“What girl?” Hyunjae questions, spinning slowly in another chair. 

“A couple days ago,” Changmin pushes off the couch to get closer to the conversation. “Chanhee was visiting his parents at the shop and there was this really pretty girl there talking to his mom. The girl had met his mom last night and they had talked on the train and then the girl broke her shoes because of his mom so they went to the shop and she was gifted two free pairs of shoes just because his mom felt really bad.”

“That’s sweet,” Hyunjae coos. “I love Mr. and Mrs. Choi.”

“Yeah, me too,” Changmin sighs and shakes his head. “Too bad Chanhee thought she was a stalker fan and went completely ape shit on the poor girl. She looked like she was about to cry!”

“I did not go ape shit!” Chanhee exclaims, folding his ruined shirt and tucking it into his bag. He’s pulling another shirt out, a loose black tee shirt this time, while Changmin mocks him quietly. 

“Then why did she spill coffee on your shirt?” Hyunjae counters.

“She— it was an accident,” Chanhee huffs and throws himself down on the other couch. “I went to apologize, someone bumped into her, she spilled her coffee, and then…I ruined it…again…”

“What did you do this time? Kill her dog? Kick her while she was down?” Hyunjae asks, only half-joking. 

“What?” Chanhee’s jaw drops. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

“Because apparently you’re a piece of shit to hot women now.”

“I wasn’t a piece of shit! And she was not—” Chanhee stops himself, catching the raised eyebrows of his group members. “You two are the worst.”

“What do you even have against her anyway?” Hyunjae asks. Chanhee, for once, can’t find a good answer. You weren’t a stalker, something he’d learned a bit too late. However, he can’t exactly say his pride is getting in the way of a proper apology. He also couldn’t use Taeha as an excuse, knowing that they would lecture him about that whole relationship and how he knows better now that she’s gone. He also knows that if he used nerves as excuse, they would mock him for days and claim that he was in love with you.

Which he most definitely was not.

“I swear, she’s gonna come after your ass for defamation soon enough,” Changmin rolls his eyes. “Should we send her, like, a fruit basket as an apology? With a cute little note that says something like—”

“We’re not sending her a fruit basket.” Chanhee interrupts. Changmin pouts. Hyunjae smirks. 

“You’re right,” the older man agrees. “We aren’t. You are.”

You see Chanhee again far sooner than you would’ve liked to. Two days have passed since the incident and you’d somehow managed to push it to the back of your mind. You would’ve liked to forget about him altogether, however, that clearly isn’t an option for you. You realize this when you come back from your lunch break to find him leaning against your desk scratching at the cheap material and doing anything but look up.

“Is that your boyfriend or something?” Sungchan is leaning against his cubical, gazing curiously at the handsome man. “If not, can I have him?”

You laugh quietly and Chanhee’s head snaps up to look at you. He looks absolutely horrified, his cheeks darkening the longer he looks at you. 

“I think he wants you to go over to him.” Sungchan sinks back into his chair, smirking widely at you.

“Die lonely, Sungchan.” 

He feigns hurt, waving you off. 

From Sungchan’s desk to yours is about fifteen steps. On this day, you make those steps the longest you could possibly make them without it being awkward. You take a step and stop to chat with another coworker across the room. Another step and oops! You’ve dropped your pen to the ground. Thirteen more long, agonizing steps just to avoid talking to Choi Chanhee.

What has your life become?

“What can I help you with?” 

You pretend you don’t see the giant fruit basket behind him on the ground. He pretends that it’s not there at all. 

“I, uh,” Chanhee’s hand slips off your desk and he almost goes crashing to the floor. You don’t help him, your eyes widening at the loud, sudden, disastrous motion. “I just— I was, you know, just in the area. I wanted to check—”

“Channie!” A grating voice makes the two of you cringe, and the dull sound of heels hitting the carpeted floor catches your attention. Jung Taeha.

Chanhee’s face goes white, and your frown deepens. Do they know each other?

You hope they don’t, but the way she calls his name is so sickeningly sweet that you’re positive they do. Something in you breaks a little. 

“Jung Taeha,” the words are forced out of Chanhee like someone performed the Heimlich maneuver to get food out of his throat. You bite back a laugh at the pain in his eyes, turning your gaze to the ground instead. “You…what are you doing here?”

“I work here, silly!” Taeha beams, practically shoving you to the side and grabbing the man by the shoulders to pull him in for a hug. He manages to keep her away from him, his soft eyes begging you for help. You step back, letting him handle her. You won’t risk your job for a man who already doesn’t think you can afford basic luxuries.

“Oh,” Chanhee says dumbly. “You do?”

The fakest laugh you’ve ever heard comes out of Taeha. It’s sharp, piercing your ears and making you wince. Honestly, to you, she sounds like a dying horse. 

“Did you come here to visit me? You never visit me at work anymore! I miss you, Channie…” Taeha pouts, ignoring his hands pushing her away from him and trying desperately to wrap her arms around Chanhee’s waist. 

“No—” Taeha gasps and cuts him off when she sees the fruit basket on the ground. 

“Channie! Is that for me?”

“No it—”

“You really shouldn’t have! Gosh, and at work too! I’m so—”

“It’s not for you.”

In an instant, the office goes quiet. Keyboards fall quiet, conversations stop, heads pop up from their desks. Sungchan lets out an exaggerated gasp, the only sound in the entire office. A company phone rings and someone mutes it. Taeha’s face twitches. Not just her eye, not her lip. Her whole face twitches and suddenly her eyes are meeting yours. She looks angry. Angrier than you’ve ever seen her since you began working at this godforsaken company.

“What do you mean it isn’t for me?” She questions with a scoff. Her hands plant on her hips and she takes a step back. “Who else would it be for?” 

Taeha says that while holding eye contact with you. The obvious implication is that they can’t possibly be for you. Why on Earth would someone like him get something like that for you?

“They’re for my girlfriend.”

You smile, glad to see Taeha put in her—

What?

“What?” Your mouth drops open and Chanhee looks at you with a playful smile. 

“Y/N~” he playfully whines, draping his arms over your shoulders and pulling you into him until his cheek is resting on your head. “Stop pretending we’re not together! I know that the argument was my fault but this is a bit harsh, even for you!”

 Your heart pounds, and you can feel his as well with your face pressed into him. He’s warm, you realize. His body is warm, and he smells sweet. Your brain tells you to pull away from him, but there’s a comfort in his embrace that you don’t want to leave. 

“You’re…” Taeha’s teeth are grinding together. “You’re with…Y/N? Y/n, you’re with Chanhee?”

“Well…” you reluctantly pull yourself away from Chanhee, smiling just as playfully as him. “Of course. Why else would he be here?”

“I’m just— this is unexpected!” Taeha beams at you, but there’s maliciousness behind every blink and smile. “I’ve never seen you date anyone, so I was a bit surprised about this.”

“Oh, yes,” you nod and grasp Chanhee’s hand in your own. “I was a bit surprised as well, but it’s true. He treats me well. Spoils me, really!” 

“Is that so?” Taeha’s eyebrow twitches and you fight a fit of laughter. 

“Yep!” Chanhee places a large, noisy kiss to the top of your head.

“Been together for…how long has it been now, Channie?” Maybe mocking the nickname was a bit too far but you couldn’t help it. Everyone knows that when you see an opportunity, it needs to be taken.

“About…four weeks?” He hums and Taeha physically recoils, her eyes widening and her body jerking as if she’d been shoved. “Just had our first argument. Guess that means the honeymoon phase is over.”

“That’s great for you!” Taeha comes over and takes one of your hands. “I am truly so happy for you, Y/N!” She squeezes you so tight that you’re afraid she may break your hand if she holds on any longer. You can tell she wants to say more just by looking at her. Her mouth opens a bit and she inhales as if she’s about to say something, but it just as quickly shuts again and she forces a smile onto her face. “And you, Chanhee. I’m happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Taeha.” Chanhee beams. “That means a lot.”

“What the fuck was that?” 

Chanhee leans against your desk, watching you work. For the past fifteen minutes, he’d been standing there in silence with a dumb look on his face. You’d returned to your work, heart pounding and the encounter replaying in your head over and over again. Girlfriend. Dating. 4 weeks. Taeha knows him. 

Why did it feel like you were the only one who never knew what was going on?

Your sudden question jerks Chanhee out of his stupor. A phone rings in the cubicle next to yours and Chanhee sighs. 

“Come with me, we should talk somewhere quiet.” 

You want to say no. You want to tell him to go fuck himself or, better yet, go fuck Taeha aand leave you out of whatever stupid drama is happening. It has nothing to do with you. You just wanted him to leave you alone. 

Unfortunately, Chanhee is grabbing your arm and the stupid fruit basket that started this whole situation and is guiding you to the exit of the office to find somewhere that doesn’t have wandering eyes. His grip on your arm isn’t tight, his fingers barely brushing the sleeve of your shirt, but it’s enough to guide you along with him. 

He takes you to the parking garage, to a secluded area with few vehicles. Part of you thinks he might kill you. Part of you wishes that was the case. 

“We’re away from people now,” you pull your arm out of his grasp and scowl. “Why did you tell Taeha that we’re dating? You hate me, I don’t necessarily like you either. I thought we were done with this.”

“That was before you spilled coffee on my shirt,” Chanhee frowns. “I liked that shirt too. Now it’s stained.”

“I’ll buy you a new one if it bothers you that much.” 

Chanhee laughs quietly. “I wouldn’t make you do that. It was way too expensive for you, no offense. Besides, it isn’t that big of a deal. Just a quick trip to the laundromat and it’ll be good as new.” 

“So then…why did you come here? If it wasn’t that important, why do you keep showing up where I don’t want you to be?” You pick at a loose string on your blouse, pulling on the thread until it comes loose. Chanhee exhales heavily, folding his hands neatly behind his back. 

“Because I felt bad.”

You blink. “You…what?”

“I felt bad for how I treated you. I didn’t want to leave things off that way, you didn’t deserve that. You haven’t deserved any bit of how I’ve been treating you.” His cheeks are flushed, his eyes cast to the ground. “I’m sorry. Really, this time. I’m not just saying it to get it over with.” You laugh quietly, your lips curling up into a smile. 

“You came all the way here for that?”

“And to give you this stupid fruit basket.” He kicks it lightly, the plastic wrapping scrunching with the action. “Changmin’s idea. It’s stupid, really. But he’s embarrassed for how I’ve been treating you.”

“And Taeha thought it was for her, right?” You crouch down next to the basket, examining the contents. “Why?”

Chanhee is quiet for a few moments, and then he huffs. “I dated her for a while. It was a shit relationship. She’s the reason that I thought you had been stalking me.”

“Are you serious?” Your head snaps up so fast you fear you may have given yourself whiplash. With wide eyes, you rise back to your feet. “Chanhee, that’s illegal. Why is she not in prison?”

“Because I didn’t have any solid proof,” he says as if it’s obvious and your teeth grind together to hold back a furious remark. “And, anyway, it’s in the past. What’s done is done.”

“And you…you told her I was your girlfriend to keep her off your back?” 

“Exactly. I’m sorry.”

You scoff at the apology, “this is not something to apologize for. If anything, I’d have done the same thing. She’s fucking psycho.” Chanhee laughs and it’s a real, genuine laugh that makes your stomach churn with a warm feeling you haven’t felt before. His pretty eyes shut as he laughs, tilting his head back. It brings you to laugh as well, your hand rising to muffle the sound. 

“Does this…” Chanhee hesitates, finally looking you in the eye. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

“Oh, no definitely not.” You frown. Chanhee’s face drops. “We can share laughs, yeah, but you still have apologizing and groveling to do. I’ll help you with Taeha but that’s because I owe it to your mother for helping me when I needed it.” 

“I understand,” Chanhee murmurs, dipping his head a bit. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you sigh and lift the fruit basket off the ground. “Thank me when Taeha finally leaves.”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[shinidamachu]

I think you or someone else discussed how Inuyasha is most likely demisexual because of his lack of interest in nudity until he formed an emotional bond. I was just thinking how the anti’s claimed Inuyasha settled for Kagome, but all evidence points to him loving her *despite* her resemblance to Kikyo. Not hating on Kikyo, just pointing out how Inuyasha kept saying it’s his fault she died because he didn’t trust her, even though trust has to go both ways but whatever, so if he was settling then Kagome would be a daily reminder that he failed Kikyo. Which would sound like hell considering his repeated claims of his fault.

But clearly in the past discussion of Inuyasha being demisexual, we all know he isn’t shallow or ”settling”.

I might have mentioned Inuyasha being demisexual once or twice, but I don't remember posting something that specific. Maybe someone else did and I reblogged it?

I'm glad you brought up the "Inuyasha settled for Kagome" terrible take, though, because you make great points and boy do I have something to say about it.

First, I love that you mentioned trust has to go both ways despite Inuyasha blaming Kikyo's death solely on his lack of trust on her. It always bothered me how quickily and sincerely he owned up to the role he played on her fate when there was zero reciprocity from Kikyo.

He went as far as taking responsability for things that have never really happened and that would be completely out of his control if they had, such as Kikyo "dying to follow after him" even though he didn't ask for it and never would.

The irony is that, between the two of them, Kikyo was actually the one more equipped to realize they were being played and yet, not only she falls for the same trap, but never really acknowledges that her lack of trust on Inuyasha was just as detrimental to their downfall.

Naraku's entire plan was based on both of them doubting each other. If either one had been more trusting, it'd have failed. Inuyasha recognizes this and regrets not trusting Kikyo, immediately treating her like the victim that she is and never once blaming her.

But he is a victim himself and she never extends the same courtesy to him, still thinking her actions were justified because he should have trusted her — not the other way around — and so she never bothers easing his guilt. On the contrary, she purposely adds to it.

The thing about the love triangle — for lack of a better term — is that Inuyasha and Kagome are constantly pushing their feelings aside to empathize with each other's and Kikyo's pain, while Kikyo acts like she's the only one who's hurting.

Which is to be expected at first because she is the one who died and was brought back against her will, but as the story progressed, I kept waiting for Kikyo to see a little bit of herself on the ordinary girl who was entrusted the weight of the world upon her shoulders, had her shoes to fill and the mess she left behind to clean up.

I kept waiting for her to show some sympathy for the boy who lost fifty years of his life because she misjudged him and was willing to die for a debt she manipulated and guilt-tripped him into thinking he had, a boy she supposedly loves.

None of it came, at least not in a way that felt organic or satisfying. That's my main issue with how Kikyo was written. You can't paint her as a complex character and then gloss over her flaws. You can't sell her as gray character and then pretend the bad things she did never happened.

Takahashi wanted her to reap all of the rewards that come with a redemption arc without really bothering to make her go through one, because that would mean having Kikyo face her mistakes for what they were — including her distrust on Inuyasha — and then apologizing or making up for it, a feat that rarely happened in canon, if at all.

Instead, she abruptly stops acting as vicious, so everything can be conveniently forgiven and forgotten because "she isn't like that anymore." The lack of explanation about what motivated this change makes harder for the audience to connect with her and results in many plot inconsistencies.

And the lack of accountability regarding Kikyo's actions keeps her from growing and reaching her full potential as a character, indirectly regressing or preventing the development of the characters around her as well, which I believe is a huge part of why the story feels repetitive and stagnant at times.

Now, you're definitely onto something when you argue that all evidence actually points to Inuyasha falling in love with Kagome despite her resemblance to Kikyo. I've actually talked about it here and here.

While it's true that Inuyasha mistook Kagome for Kikyo when they first met, it would've been unreasonable to expect anything different. Their looks and scents are similar, he had just woken up from a fifty years long spell and up until then he had no reason to believe otherwise, but Inuyasha actually caught up in a decent amount of time.

After that, as much as he still refused to call Kagome by name, he was also very aware she wasn't Kikyo, to the point that it took seeing her with complete priestess attire on for him to even make that correlation again.

And yet, Inuyasha still doesn't go back into thinking they're the same person, but rather that Kagome's a girl who resembles Kikyo. Only eventually, even this starts to change the more time they spend together and suddenly, when Inuyasha has a nightmare about Kikyo, is Kagome he sees first.

Mind you, he has only seen Kagome in priestess clothes once. Kikyo wore those her entire life. It'd be understandable for him to confuse Kagome for Kikyo and yet Kagome was his first thought here when, by logic, she shouldn't have been. From them on, he doesn't even see any resemblance between the two girls at all anymore.

Which makes sense, because even if Inuyasha had tried to use Kagome as a replacement — something he never did — he couldn't possibly have succeded, since both girls are polar opposites — a creative choice that was done completely on purpose — and Kagome wasn't slightly interested on being anyone but herself, making her into the worst Kikyo replacement ever.

That's why it got easier for Inuyasha to distinguish one girl from the other with time. Their distinct personalities make up for completely different dynamics and bring completely different feelings out of Inuyasha, because they represent completely different things to him and, again: this is done absolutely on purpose.

In the manga, this is better illustrated by two very specific panels. In the first one, Kikyo is smiling sadly but genuinely at Inuyasha — which we don't see her do often — and he admitted later on that the exchange made him feel guilty, like he had done something wrong, since he had just been rude to her.

In the second one, Kagome is smiling brightly at Inuyasha, which she does constantly, then we immediately see him blush and think to himself how relieved he is to see that smile

Of course those are very different contexts, but they pretty much set the tone for both relationships and if the arrangement of those panels wasn't a conscious choice — which I doubt — then Takahashi is insanely lucky. It's also worth noting that Inuyasha felt relieved to see Kagome smiling because it was further confirmation that even after Kikyo's resurrection, she was still Kagome.

So I think it's safe to say the physical resemblance actually slowed the romantic process down, considering that the staged betrayal made Inuyasha build his walls even taller than they were when he met Kikyo. This becomes even more clear when you compare their respective first "amicable" conversations.

With Kikyo, even though he was reluctant about her approach and suspicious of her intentions, there was still a part of him that obviously wanted it to be true, so he was at least open to what she had to say.

With Kagome, he was visibly more aggressive and closed off because he has been burned before and she was the reincarnation of the woman who did the burning, which makes her managing to get his trust so quickly that much more remarkable, since she apparently did in less time and in worse circumstances, what Kikyo couldn't.

And Kagome did it precisely because she never acted like Kikyo. She actually took the time to know Inuyasha, to give him her trust and to earn his, to build a solid relationship, based on honesty and real acceptance.

I like to think that, while Kikyo found a crack on Inuyasha's defense she could slip in, Kagome slowly smashed his walls to the ground, therefore leaving an ever lasting impact on him that she couldn't have made by being anyone but herself.

When Inuyasha starts to pursue Kagome romantically, he does so after concluding that there's absolutely no resemblance between the two girls at all and after going through an entire arc where Kagome cried for his sake and trusted him blindly, none of which has anything to do with Kikyo.

People argue that Inuyasha was actually trying to kiss Kikyo here, but why would he do that when he still thinks she betrayed him? And if this was really the case, then why has he never willingly kissed or tried to kiss Kikyo until their final goodbye, Sunrise additions excluded?

At this point, it makes more sense to me that he was avoiding to look at Kagome not because she looks like Kikyo — he has been looking at her just fine before —, but because he has started to catch feelings for her despite his efforts not to and doesn't know how to act. In fact, when he had the chance to kiss Kikyo soon after, this is what we got instead:

And then he hugs her — something the anime cut out — but the important thing is that Inuyasha had this and many other opportunities to rekindle his relationship with Kikyo and simply didn't.

In this particular occasion, he even go as far as to ask Kikyo to return the piece of soul that keeps her "alive" to Kagome knowing full well what the consequences were.

Why would Inuyasha settle for a "replacement" when he could have the real thing instead? Even if you believe resurrected Kikyo to be nothing more than a malicious replica of the original, she's still more Kikyo than Kagome could or would ever be.

I dislike this notion because if it's true and there's not an ounce of Kikyo there, why should the audience or the characters care if she "lives" or "dies"? If she gets a redemption arc or not? It feels like a cop out to only consider her the real Kikyo when she does good things.

That being said, save for maybe one scene at the beginning where Inuyasha shoved a bow and some arrows at Kagome because Kikyo was a master archer, he never expected her to behave like Kikyo, never tried to change her so she would and never acted frustrated or disappointed at the fact that she was her own person.

Inuyasha has his flaws — as any good main character should — but he always respected the inviduality of both girls, which is more than I can say about the people who insist on this baseless take.

To wrongly paint Inuyasha as someone who settled for Kagome because she looks like Kikyo gets especially icky when even Naraku, the villain who was obsessed with her, never redirected said obsession to Kagome.

It's such a common trope that I was actually expecting it, but I'm glad it didn't happen because it's a subtle and yet effective way of sedimenting both girls as separate individuals instead of going for the cheapest option.

And ironically, the only character who treated Kagome as if she was Kikyo was Kikyo herself, but even that was very early on and she only seemed to do it as a way of belittling Kagome, because while mentioning her to other people — or by the end of the story — Kikyo had no trouble referring to Kagome as a different being.

Sunrise's adaptation made very questionable choices but something they were pretty consistent on was making clear Kagome and Kikyo aren't the same.

Besides, something fundamentally wrong with this argument is that Inuyasha comes off as shallow and Kikyo as disposeable. Shallow because it suggests physical appearance is all that matters — which goes against everything his character stands for in canon — and the soul is just a seal of approval.

Disposeable because it hints Kikyo's personality is so forgettable and unimportant that it played absolutely no part on sparkling Inuyasha's interest. She's so easily replaceable that even someone who had opposite world views, thoughts, feelings, temperament and mannerisms could do the trick. The memories they made are so generic that it wouldn't have make a difference if any other character was in her place.

Why do people even like those characters, why do they even ship them together if they truly believe that? That's why I don't buy that they actually do.

You see, considering how huge Kagome's soul is, Kikyo technically has got to be someone else's reincarnation too, but I've never seen anyone making the case that she is anyone but herself or that her predecessor is also the love of Inuyasha's life.

The reason they try to do this with Kagome is so that they can pretend Inuyasha and Kikyo somehow ended up together to cope with the fact that they didn't. And that's the exact same reason they pretend he setled for Kagome as well.

Which is funny because what exactly was Inuyasha settling for? Like, in the great scheem of things, what was Kikyo able to give him that he couldn't get a thousand times better from Kagome with no strings attached and just had to make his peace with it?

It seems to me like it was the other way around: Kagome managed to accomplish everything Kikyo failed to do, so if anything Inuyasha was settling, it was for Kikyo, resigned to spend the rest of his life as human — something he hated to be — just to get "accepted" or to die for something he didn't do just to appease her.

Finally, to say inuyasha settled implies he had no other choice but to marry Kagome. He had: staying single, because now that he has friends and wasn't alone anymore, he doesn't need a lover to fill that empty space in his life if he doesn't want one.

Plus, Kagome wasn't entitled to his love. She jumped trought that well knowing that three years is a long time, that people and feelings change and that what waited for her on the other side was a mystery, but she did it anyway because all she ever wanted from him was to stay by his side and for him to be honest with her.

Kagome would've been fine with a platonic relationship because even though she obviously wanted more, she was ready to accept whatever Inuyasha was willing to give her, but he wanted her to return so he could give her everything, which he couldn't before because he felt in debt with Kikyo. That's the whole point.

Inuyasha was the one who iniciated every romantic moment they had early on: the first hug, both almost kisses, etc. And it was clear that the things Kagome made him feel, such as that sense of peace, of belonging, of unadultered happiness, were very new to him, so the idea that Inuyasha was settling for her is laughable when this is the character in question:

I know a lot of those scenes were deleted or changed by Sunrise but I watched the anime without reading the manga beforehand and reached the exact same conclusions, so I'm still of the opinion that the people who convinced themselves Kagome was a consolation prize either didn't pay attention or have an agenda of their own to push, that won't change by reading the original material.

TLDR; one does not simply "settle" for their soulmate. They come home to them.

[welldonekhushi]

Womp womp. “Positive place” “no hate” my ass. If we looked into your past we’d see a different story. 

You likely don’t care to address it but you gravely hurt one of my dearest friends. I doubt you realise anything you did, before or after they broke it off. And with reason. You took so much interest in everyone’s characters and stories but theirs, instead devaluing their opinions, spamming their inbox with shit they didn’t ask for without bothering to send them even one question or prompt in return. 

I want to laugh that only after he cut you off did you start asking others even a bit more about their projects. Only after it was too late did you bother to make a change. It’s pathetic, really, that you must have been trying so hard to cover up your true habits, that falling into your blatant disinterest in him. He’s better off without you. 

Speaking of your covering shit up, don’t think your queerphobia has been forgotten. Don’t think he and I didn’t see you delete a reply saying your OC “wouldn’t really get along” with his, when meanwhile your stoic, guarded military man is out there making friends with literally everyone else. The difference being everyone else who isn’t openly gay. Don’t think we’ve forgotten when your muse cried and tried to guilt-trip my friend’s when the latter came out to her. 

You prop up Scarlet as a friendly-to-all but Strong™ Female Character but I know she’s not. She’s a homophobic, insensitive, spineless little bitch - sounds like someone, doesn’t it? 

Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that there’s a third party who knows the truth. You’re fucking horrible. You might have other friends now but I hope one day all this comes to light, no matter how much you might have tried to change. Whether or not this letter ends up posted, I want you to read it once, twice, three times over. They say to forgive and forget but some of us never forgive and always remember. There is someone out there haunted by what you did to them and you can’t keep running from it.

Okay, anon. After reading your message, I would first like to mention that I don't know who you are, or the friend that you're talking about. So let's put the points together of what you said that you and the "he" you're mentioning feel.

First, you said that I'm queerphobic because I said that my OC wouldn't get along with your friend's OC because their character was "openly gay". It's the same meaning as saying "You hate me because I belong here." by directly coming to a conclusion, instead of not understanding the mindset they belong to or their indulgence in something that could be disagreeable to others. I don’t know who or which OC you’re mentioning, but If I said my OC would not get along with them, it doesn't mean I directly hate their OC (whoever they are). This doesn't make sense when I never disrespected or showed hatred towards anyone who presents their OC as queer. I have friends here who have queer ships with their OCs and canon characters and I support them fully by heart. I even had their OCs interact with them.

Second, you proceeded by saying that I never bothered to send your friend an ask, a question or a prompt. Can I be honest, anon? I have a life. I've always been busy with my uni and now I have finals on my head. I can’t even find time to draw, academic pressure is already stressing me out, and I don't even have inspo at times to be here and publish stuff here. If I happened to miss out on your friend (whoever they are), then I'll say sorry. Because it feels that they were only relying on ME to send them the prompts and asks, and not “the shit which they asked for” as you nicely mentioned. It seemed to me that they (whoever they are) don't really see the rest but me and me only, right? I'm sorry, I think their 'friend' got so busy that they tend to forget that the friend they have has a life out there, too.

Third, you proceeded to call my OC Scarlet a “spineless little bitch, homophobic, and insensitive". Huh. Seems like while proving your point, you thought to add some more spice to your heartfelt thoughts by shitting on my OC as well. You thought you cooked anon, but turns out your dish got rejected. Sorry, you are eliminated from the MasterChef Competition. (Talking about ‘spineless’ while hiding behind anon. The irony.)

Fourth, you thought I guilt-tripped your friend when they came out. Huh. I don't remember a day when I insulted or ridiculed someone for coming out when originally I'd be happy that they finally had the courage to represent themselves for who they are. If you're saying I guilt-tripped them, be a good anon, reveal yourself in the public to me and give me proof. If you're confident enough, then do it. I'll have no hesitation. I'll admit it was my fault. But show yourself first. It "doesn't matter who I am" but it does, because even if you're a person typing that, you're just an anon with no personality to me. No appearance. Nothing. Just blank. I explained who you are. Hope you're happy with that.

Fifth, you said that some forgive and forget, but some don't forgive and remember. Honestly, I understand how disturbed and angry you feel inside because of me, anon. Well, even if you say that I acted like that with your friend (whoever they are), so, here's the third time I'm saying this. If it makes you feel better. I am sorry. Instead, I feel pity that you might be feeling so frustrated because of my presence. If you don't want to forgive me, I'm okay with it. You have a right to do so.

In the end, sorry for you and for your friend. But I hope one day, you'll learn too that to 'forgive and forget', means to move on, letting go of the people who hurt you so you'd be happy as well. If I hurt you and your friend, you can block me, and move on. Be happy without me. I understand I wasn't a good friend to them, I don't refute you at all. Besides, you have every right to be angry. I'll not even say that you're all at fault here. I made a mistake? I'd fully admit it. But you accusing me for what I did while hiding behind anon is… unsettling for me. I don't know what else to say.

You thought you were making me scared and afraid by saying “Read it once, twice, three times over”, but no, you’re completely dismissed out of my mind when you come at me out of nowhere, attacking me with baseless accusations, and insults me and my OC. You’re just another hate anon to me. “You’re a horrible person.” Look in the mirror. I’m not the one sending someone a whole essay of a hate anon.

Have a good day anyway, anon.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c9. Reign of Terror.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Cool about it, boygenious

abstract: listen, I don't even want to hear it. yes, it's Simon. I told you already, I'm gathering intel during this part. don't think too hard about it, this doesn't mean anything. and yes, I think she was telling the truth. I follow my instincts and they only failed me once or twice…

When the routine settled back in, she felt like the Al-Jareena mission was a thing of the past. A week had gone by, she had no news about the mission. Or Arash. She was snapping her fingers following the rhythm of the music. 'And one, two, balancé!' She watched as the girls rehearsed in front of her, moving in pairs, one from each side of the room. They had been going on and on for an hour, the poor girls were exhausted. 'Okay, from here, piquè', she had been demonstrating everything, trying to remember her notes and the changes she had to make to the original choreography. Her blue leotard was sticking on her skin, she could feel sweat dripping down her back and in between her breasts. Her bun was starting to come untied, she kept fixing some shorter hair behind her ears. 'I don't want to see those stiff hands Jenny, please', she resumed, 'piquè, finish on your right leg. Sam and Gemma, you're going to go stage left with two saut de basque'. She stopped talking to demonstrate the jump, which was quite difficult, she had to admit. 'You finish on relevè, arms in fifth position, then repeat to the other side'. She was too old for all this activity, (Jude is delusional, she's 26). She had to catch her breath without letting the girls know she was getting tired. 'Then, Kyla, Cassie and Luna, same thing to the right as soon as the first two finish jumping, same thing to the left with group three.' She instructed and approached the mirrors in the front of the room. 'Let's see it, please'.

She packed her bag while the girls said bye to her. God, did she love being called 'Miss Alba'. She put on sweats, lifting them up over her legs without bothering to remove the pink tights she hated so much. She preferred black ones, they concealed stretch marks, cellulite… See, if the school was hers, she would let her ballerinas pick the colour they wanted. She could see during the lessons some of them were self conscious about their bodies, like she had been for years when she was younger. The way they looked at each other in the mirrors, like they were comparing themselves to the others. Some were thinner, some had bigger bums, bigger breasts, some had more muscle, some you could see their whole ribcage sticking out. School policy, black leotard and pink thighs. They were too young. But still, even Alba herself had some serious issues with her figure, demonstrating in front of everyone was challenging and took a tool on her mental health sometimes. She knew she was fit, don't get me wrong, she had worked fucking hard for years to get to where she was. Strong, lean quads, a good set of abs. She had followed every diet in the world, she learned so much about what foods not to eat, how to get the perfect body… How to be slim and toned and have fat in the right places. She gained back weight after the 'bad year' when she didn't work and decided she was not gonna feed herself anymore. Cooking was just too much back then, she spent hours going on walks with headphones in, on the verge of passing out. She was better now, she only had those thoughts every now and then. They were under control, she was healthy. Let me tell you, her legs, arms, her hips, a fucking work of art. Still, being watched by those young girls who probably spent way too much worrying about their weight and having to be the representation of perfection was daunting. Keep your abs thigh, your foot straight, your hips aligned. Hide how painful it is, hide the fact your calf is cramping and you're losing balance. A game of pretend.

When she got to work the next day, she was surprised to see a special someone waiting for her beside her door. No fucking way. She stopped in her tracks when he saw him, bag hanging from her shoulder, boots clicking on the floor. What are you doing here, how do you know this is my office? Did you ask around? Are you following me? She approached him and he took a step towards her. He had a blue jacket on, no skull mask today, simple black one. She could finally see his hair colour, dirty blonde. He needed a trim. 'Can I help you?' she said. Well well well. 'Not really' he replied, crossing his arms against his chest. He was tall, he was scarily tall. She had to tilt her head to look at him. That position made his arms look even bigger. She no problem admitting how good looking he was. 'Am I in trouble?' she asked tilting her head to the side. His mask moved slightly, but his eyes didn't exactly show a particular emotion. Was he smiling or about to punch her, she didn't know. She had always loved risks. 'You're not' he answered. He wasn't in the mood for jokes maybe. Noted.

She nodded and took a step towards the office door unlocking it and getting in, supposing he would follow. Being in there made her feel slightly more secure. It was a place where she normally had some authority. Not with him she didn't. He closed the door behind him as she put her bag on the desk. The office had two big windows which let in few shy rays of sunshine. She had a couch with a few pillows for the patients and a chair for her. She looked at him and indicated the couch, as to say 'sit'. He really didn't want to. He felt like a patient. He went to therapy before, he just didn't want to be her patient. He stood there in the middle of the room watching Jude take off her coat and hang it on the chair. She wore jeans today. Tight jeans and a jumper. He could see her boots clearer now, they were shiny and the tip of the shoe was round. They looked from the 80's. She had cream coloured socks. She looked younger dressed like that. She looked less professional and more… a civilian, a normal 23 year old girl. He had settled that was her age. Her hair loose, her casual outfit, she looked ready for a walk in the park. He wondered if she walked in the park with her dog. She looked like she had a normal job, like waitressing or maybe she was a painter or a student. She looked like she could go to the movies dressed like that, or play bowling. She looked like she was about to sit down, take her shoes off, get comfortable and tell him about her day, talk about nothing for hours without ever boring him.

She finally spoke, sitting down in her leather chair. 'Why are you here?' she asked, her hands on her thighs. 'You can sit if you want', she added. He still wouldn't move. 'I wanted to apologise for asking about last year, I realised it might be a sensitive topic'. His voice was low and soothing, his British accent heavy on every word. She didn't expect that. That was very considerate of him, the 6 foot soldier standing in the middle of her office like the representation of death that comes knocking at your door. What a strange thing to say man, did you hear stories? Did you hear your friends say I faked it? Cause I know they're saying it. 'Thanks', she said softly, a tone she had never used with him. She tried not to get triggered by his words, not to let her mind wonder back to the event he was referring to. She had to fight hard to not let her brain spiral, a fight against herself. She always seemed to lose. 'It's just something really bad, I don't like to think about it more than I already do', she explained. His eyes were fixated on her like she was a wild animal about to go extinct. He nodded and silence filled the room.

'How did the mission go?' She asked even if she already knew the answer. She was just making conversation. He didn't want to stay too much. He thought about seeing her, he thought about talking to her again and now that she was there, now that he purposely went to her office to talk, he wanted to run. 'Good. Good, yeah, thanks to you, actually'. He finally sat down. That was what patients saw then. The desk behind her, the windows and her, on the leather chair. He tried to imagine her during sessions. Her back straight, compassionate eyes, maybe a notebook on her lap. The window on her right illuminated only half of her face. Making her half an angel. She wasn't commenting on his answer, she squinted her eyes. 'Are you saying I was right and you were wrong?' she asked. Cheeky. She wasn't smiling, cause she knew she was right all along. 'I'm saying you got lucky.' She made him weak, his mouth was dry. 'So what are you gonna do next? I might get lucky again', she said. Could he tell her? She already knew so much. He decided he could share, vague answers only. 'We find where they took Khorram, we'll probably find Arash as well. We leave in a week.' She kept biting her lower lip, not in a provocative way. She was thinking. 'What did he do exactly? He's the one with that snake flag right?' she asked. She was informed. She had seen the flag she was referring to on the news and on social media. It was a green flag with a snake print, with red eyes. A symbol. 'The viper, yes. We've been following him for some time. Human trafficking, mainly.' Her expression was of disgust. 'He formed an army, he controls the main cities, he lets people starve, public executions…' he decided to stop there. She nodded, she got the gist. 'Makes sense…' she murmured. 'Reign of Terror kinda thing.' There was silence again between them.

'Reign…' he felt bad that he didn't know what she was talking about. He didn't have a degree. Jude had probably 4 or 5. But no, he wasn't that cultured. It made him feel small. Guns and war, he was the best. It was the second time he didn't know what she was talking about, she said something about a Little King or some shit. (It was the Little Price, the book). 'French Revolution, doesn't matter', she cut him off. Don't make me feel stupid Jude. He got up saying he better be going, she did too, she said 'of course'. She offered him her hand to shake. You're Italian, he decided. The hand gestures, the physical touch. Yes, to Simon shaking your hand twice was considered physical touch. She wasn't British, she was too polite and beautiful for it. How do you speak English so well then. What made you come here? What's your real name something Italian like Julia or Sarah? He reached for her hand, glad he was wearing gloves this time so he couldn't feel her skin. Less of her to think about. She looked at him, then looked down to their hands, still holding it. Her soft, caramel skin, with those dainty black nails against his skeleton printed gloves. She turned his hand so she could see the skeleton print and smiled, with her head tilted down. A smirk. She had dimples. Her eyelashes were almost touching her eyebrows. He let go of her hand and turned around, regretting he didn't wear his other mask. Would have hidden the fact that he was blushing.

notes: I was listening to 'cool about it' by boygenius when writing this. also, writing ballet is fucking hard… how do I describe the pain. also also, Jude's shoes are those chunky coquette Mary Jane shoes that you wear with socks.

notes: Julia and Sarah are not correct spellings of Italian names, more on the American side. makes sense Simon doesn't know how to spell the Italian versions. (they are Giulia and Sara). How are you guys doing, you all good? You guessed it I'm still taking my exams and working and being clinically insane and unbelievably tired.

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[ju-vondy]

The text I wish I could draw to every Elriel shipper:

What Azriel feels about Elain is lust. The need to fill a void and nothing more. He's desperate because his loved so-called brothers found their mates who ironically were sisters but the third sister wasn't give to him. But what we do know is that Azriel WANTS a mate: this has already become clear at several points in the narrative of the books.

The mating bond is SO much deeper than lust. It's so BEYOND. Azriel will never feel a mating bond snapping with Elain, and guess why? Because she ALREADY HAS A BOND WITH ANOTHER FUCKING MALE. That is true: everyone can smell it, even Azriel can.

So, let Azriel kiss and f*ck with Elain how many time he wants... That will NEVER be a mating bond (that he desperately wants) at the end of the day. That will never be the connection he wants. And I wouldn't bother to see a scene of them going to bed together: I've seen Feyre having s*x with Tamlin, Aelin with Chaol, etc. etc. But did that EVER influenced the end? No. Once them found their partners the past didn't mattered anymore, for God's sake!!

And SJM has already made it clear that when she thinks about "pairing mates together" she always looks for who has the most things in common and also the two people must have a dynamic where one CHALLENGES the other. Like that dog and cat dynamic. Sarah loves writing "bunters."

Do you really think Elain will challenge Azriel, seriously? HOW?! She doesn't fight. She hates violence. She has zero personality. She has no interest in training (seriously, she could have literally shown up at the House to visit Nesta and signed up to participate in the training... But she didn't, clearly because taking care of the garden is more interesting than learning to defend herself, right? LOL). Elain likes SUNSHINE, flowers, baking, gardening, delicate things. Azriel has NOTHING to do with that.

Now: Gwyn is one of those hyperactive people, with orange cat energy. She is the total opposite of Azriel when it comes to communication hahaha and that would be REALLY COOL to see. She being plugged in at 220W and he getting lost thinking "Damn, how can this beautiful thing talk so much?" 😄👐🏻 Gwyn, with this personality, would simply take Azriel out of his comfort zone. Isn't that what SJM likes, after all??! People who challenge each other.

Not to mention Gwyn has a very good sense of humor. That day of the Solstice, Azriel could have simply been rude to her, but he decided to stay and start a conversation with her, joking: "Are you kicking me out?" And soon after, when Azriel said that he had forgotten his dagger and couldn't sleep without it, Gwyn didn't think twice before joking "Ah yes, a comfort for every growing child" and Azriel laughed. Gwyn has a sharp tongue and it would be lovely seeing Azriel losing his mind to it.

Gwyn, like Azriel, is interested in combat. She became the first Valkyrie after hundreds of years (Azriel himself looked at her with admiration when she was about to cut the ribbon) Gwyn likes to sing, Azriel too. She was PISSED when Azriel sneered saying that they wouldn't be able to overcome the obstacles and therefore hadn't thought of a prize for them. Gwyn is competitive and we know that Azriel is too, as Cassian and Rhysand have never managed to defeat him in snowball fights in all these years. Azriel is a master spy, Gwyn spent literally hours sitting up in the trees spying on opponents and monsters when she was in the Rite.

That's and we're the reason why after reading ACOSF I stopped thinking about being Elriel and I'm rooting for the little redhead to be the boy Az's endgame.

She's so much more compatible with him! I liked the idea of Elriel because he had that "forbidden thing" going on and all, but honestly? It would be too cruel to Lucien. And Azriel is too loyal to Rhysand to disobey his orders. Azriel himself said that he didn't go that far with his plans, the only thing he thought about was bitching.

In other words: Az only thinks of Elain as a source of pleasure. But a partnership bond is not that. A bond of partnership is someone who challenges you, complements you and supports you. That's what I want for Az: someone he looks at and admires for who she is, and not just because he feels horny and wants to see how the female will react when he's inside her 🙄😮‍💨

Another thing: I don't want to see him getting some female whose his shadows DISAPPEAR when she is around. That would be too boring! Literally, the bonus chapter already gave us everything: on one page we see the shadows shrinking through Elain's breath and minutes later one of those same shadows intertwines with Gwyn's condensed breathing. And it wasn't just Azriel who calmed down after that conversation, it was the shadows too.

I'm not here saying that Azriel ALREADY DIES IN LOVE with Gwyn, for God's sake! How do you have selective interpretation, right, sweet Elriels?! Guys, Gwyn just appeared in the story (and has already attracted more attention than the plant in 4 books LOL, cry less!) And it's clear that she still has so much to develop! The whole thing just started, you know?

Sarah said she's leaving "crumbs" and "clues" along the way, and clearly the vocabulary says it all. What examples of hints can we notice? The "spark" Azriel felt in his chest and the image glowing quietly even if he buried it down deep. Sarah at one point in the narrative emphasized that Gwyn was "willing to erase Azriel and Cassian's arrogant smiles. Especially Azriel's." Why not let the narration die there in the penultimate sentence? Why did Sarah add *especially Azriel's*? Look at the DYNAMICS there my people 🗣️🗣️🗣️🤏🏻

Also, when Nesta hear Gwyn's singing she describes as if Gwyn's voice was claiming to be freed, to let go! As if there's something inside Gwyn that need to be developed. And Sarah has never been one to leave things loose. Anyway, let's see what fate awaits us!

[cryptidsurveys]

Thursday, October 24th, 2024.

Do you have any siblings you absolutely despise? Why do you despise them? The simplest answer is "yes." But do I spend every waking moment dwelling on it? No. And is the emotion intense? Aside from a recent uptick due to family drama, not typically. In fact, it's dwindled down to something more akin to apathy with an underlying understanding of why I want nothing to do with them. I've tried to practice empathy and understand what makes them tick (and I can get there to a degree, even if it's only speculation), but it doesn't make things right. I'm not their damn therapist. Ain't nobody paying me to figure their shit out.

How many times a week do you shower? Is this a healthy thing for you? I shower twice on animal shelter days and once, maybe twice, on my "weekends."

Do you like taking random surveys like this? Of course.

How many times a day do you eat a full meal? Is this a healthy thing to you? I eat three meals and two snacks, plus some random bits before bed. The spacing and frequency seem fine, but I probably need to up my calories.

What’s your favorite movie? Why do you like this movie so much? Watership Down, Princess Mononoke, Velvet Goldmine, The Doors film…

What’s your favorite genre of movies? Why is this? I don't really have a favorite genre, but I enjoy horror, fantasy, psychological thrillers, and animated films.

Have you ever looked up at the sky, and thought, Why am I down here? I've marveled at the immensity of everything, and I've wondered why and how anything exists at all, but not always/only while looking at the night sky. It is pretty mind blowing just how many stars I can see when I bother to put on my glasses, though. ("Omg, are those the PLEIADES?!?!" ;D)

What is your hair color? Are you satisfied with the color of your hair? It's brown. I'm satisfied with it for the most part.

Do you talk on the phone very often? Who do you talk to the most? No. I rarely talk on the phone.

Do your parents intimidate the people you date? Are they scary people? Past partners have mentioned being intimidated by my dad, but at least from my perspective, he's not an intentionally intimidating person.

Have you ever watched a horror movie and thought, “What would it be like”? Yeah. Like, would I have the fortitude to face such a situation and get out alive, etc.

Do you think Gale Harold is the cutest man alive? I don't even know who that is. Let me look him up…ah, okay. He's not my type.

Do you hate people who ask questions like “Did you like this survey”? I don't hate it, but it does seem kind of pointless now that most surveys are super old and widely dispersed. The person who created the survey is extremely unlikely to ever see the feedback.

How many times a day do you say I love you? Who to usually? A lot. To my dad and my cats. To my mom when I see/speak to her. To the kitties at the animal shelter.

What’s your favorite color? Why is this your favorite color? Autumn hues. They're warm, cozy, nostalgic, inviting, etc.

Have you ever been told you were thought-provoked? By who? Do you mean "thought-provoking"? I don't think anyone has ever said that specifically, but I have been told that I'm insightful, intelligent, etc.

Do you like Drew Barrymore? Do you like her movies and work? Eh.

Does the sight of blood gross you out? Why is this? Blood alone doesn't bother me. Seeing someone in pain, though…that's what tends to get to me.

What is the most common color of clothes in your closet? Black, dark blue, and shades of gray.

Do you text or no? Who do you usually text anyways? Yeah. I mostly text my mom and dad. I'm part of the cattery group chat now too, but I haven't posted anything yet. I just "react" to texts from others.

Do you think sweaters are only for dorks? Give an example of a dork. No…?

Do you prefer hoodies or jackets? Why do you prefer this choice? Jackets are a nice addition when it's cold out, but when it comes to everyday wear, I prefer hoodies.

Is black your second favorite color & does it really go with anything? It's one of my favorite colors, and yeah, it pretty much does go with anything I would be inclined to wear.

Do you cry really easily? Are you depressed? Not super easily, but…idk. It's kind of random. Sometimes little things get to me when bigger things don't. It also depends on how stressed/exhausted I am. I don't think I'm depressed.

Have you ever babysat before? Did you enjoy this job? Not really. Never as a job. Not unless junior volunteers at the shelter count. They come in for about an hour and a half nearly every Friday. It's nice because they'll do our dishes, wipe down and put away kennels, sweep, etc.

Do you like children, or do you hate them? Why do you like or hate them? They're alright. Sometimes they can be sweet or endearing.

Are your parents still divorced or together? They're legally separated, so not quite divorced but definitely not together.

Have you ever busted a window before? Why did you bust it? Yeah. It was an accident. I was playing baseball with some friends in one of their yards, and we were using rocks for bases. I was throwing them back after we were finished, and one of them crashed through a small basement window.

Do you still get scared watching old horror movies? You watch them alone? I might get a little creeped out depending on the film. I basically never watch any movie alone, though.

Is the sound of Halloween exciting to you? Do you enjoy the holiday? I don't care as much about Halloween DAY as I did when I was younger. It's more about the surrounding atmosphere. The changing leaves, the chilly weather, the fun foods, the spooky vibes…

Does anyone ever call you unique? Do you think you’re unique? Not that I'm aware of, but I do feel somewhat different and strange.

Do random people ever call you and make conversations with you? No.

Do you talk a lot when you’re on the phone? Are you annoying? Not really.

Have you ever contemplated suicide before? Ever attempted it before? Yes to both.

When you think of summer, what is the first thing that comes to mind? Intolerable heat, the smell of dust and pine sap, merciful afternoon thunderstorms, chirping crickets, stifling liquid purple nights… Oh, and praying that the swamp cooler doesn't break at an inopportune time.

Do munchkins/midgets scare you? Why do you think they scare you? No.

Do knives scare you? Is it from watching scary movies? No.

Have you ever tried to sing opera? Did it work out for you or no? Uh, not seriously, lmao.

Do you know anyone named Tawny? I don't.

Can you count to 100,000,000? Have you ever tried before? No. According to Google, "It would take approximately 3.17 years to count to 100 million at a rate of one number per second." And some numbers take longer than a second to say, so…anyway…

[luna-andra]

The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 4: Breathe

Author's Note: I'm off of hiatus! 🎉 I'm already 3k words deep into chapter 5, so that should be coming out soon. Here's to writing more in 2024 (if anyone still cares about this fic lol) 😁

Word count: 6.2k

Content warning: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+ only, fluff, mentions of mental health

Chapter 1 to start from the beginning. Next chapter

It in fact did not hold. Even worse, it happened within a couple of days. The cherry on top? Andra was unaware as she sat curled up with the book Ghost had pulled off her bookshelf. She was revisiting the story, with a flush that crept up on her face, radiating the apples of her cheeks. The chances of her losing all ability to sit there without so much of a hue of red on her face would be dead in the water. And imagining Ghost’s voice narrating the male’s dialogue? No shot she would be alive after hearing him whisper that shit in her ear. 

Sammy’s frantic bark snatched her out of the shameful fantasy, warning her that something was awry outside. Andra plopped her book down without a second thought, slipping a finger through the window blinds to find her chickens free-roaming outside the pen. “Shit.” She grabbed the cream-colored cardigan from the back of the couch and threw it on and slipped her feet in some easy access shoes, darting outside to go scoop up each chicken. One by one, she stuffed them back into the cozy chicken coop where they would be on lockdown, muttering profanities and curses under her breath. 

All of them went willingly and without so much of a fight. Except for the broody hen, Helen. “Cut it out!” Andra hisses as she winced at the peck of her angry little beak. Her feathers stopped flapping frantically as she was shoved into the coop, and Andra swore she received a side eye from the poultry. She did a head count, not seeing any other chickens in the vicinity. There was a rooster missing. “Dammit, Ted…” Andra jogged around the perimeter of her house, followed up with the barn, the enclosure a couple of more times, and lastly the patches of crops, weaving in and out of the stalks of summer produce, on the hunt for that damn rooster. The tracks of chicken prints were too sporadic, too many chickens have toddled around for her to notice any wandering prints veering off in a different direction. Or maybe she just sucked at following tracks. 

At this point she checked every area nearby seven times over. Her throat tightened, eyes burning as she was on the verge of tears. Andra thought of every scenario, the worst including a wild animal finding the rooster and making a meal of him. She cared deeply for her animals. It pained her to think about finding a mangled, poultry corpse in its wake. 

Andra wiped her teary eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan and shambled back inside. Her phone sat next to the book she abandoned, and she went to pick it up to make a phone call. The line rang once, twice, thrice. It forwarded to voicemail. 

“Ghost, it’s me.” Her voice quivered. She cleared her throat to gain composure. “I’m alright, but my chickens got loose and one is missing. Thought I’d give you a heads up if you find one wandering the road or jumped your fence… okay, sorry to bother you.” Andra hung up after leaving the message, and let out a leaden sigh as she sunk into her couch. Sammy senses her distress and provided comfort with a nudge of her nose against her elbow, her big brown eyes looking up to Andra. 

He called it, too. She replayed Ghost telling her, if the chickens get smart, they’ll breach it. Her chickens have half of a brain cell, collectively shared amongst each other. She never expected it to actually happen. She nearly raised those chickens after they hatched, when they were able to be separated from the flock of the breeder she bought from. They were the first farm animals she had ever owned, spending so much time researching before and after owning them, learning their personalities and behaviors. Andra wanted to continue her search, through the backwoods of her property or across the street in the overbrush of weeds and trees, but it felt like it would be too unsafe to go out there without some form of self-defense. So, she curled up into herself on the couch, hands concealing her face and catching the tears falling from her burning eyes.

----- 

Ghost was hit with a wave of uncomfortable heat as he walked out of the psychiatrist’s office. Something else to aggravate the growing headache he seemed to get after the waste of the one-hour session he spent with Dr. Smith. He believed that Ghost made some sort of progress this time around. Why did he have to go and open his mouth about things?  

”Simon, good to see you return.” Dr. Smith always greeted Ghost with the same salutation at every appointment, whether it was genuine or not, Ghost didn’t care. He was probably just relieved that he returned instead of eating one of his own bullets. “What’s new?”  

Ghost’s scowl remained on the clock relentlessly ticking in the back of the room until he decided to direct his attention to his doctor. “Not sleeping well.”  

“Is it worse than the last time we discussed?” He asked with a professional tone. 

Ghost gave a stern nod. “Getting less hours.” He knew the next question that was going to be asked. “Even with the meds, I have been compliant.” 

Doc took a moment to scribble his notes. “What’s changed?” He looked up to meet Ghost’s face sincerely.  

“Took on another project at the shop. Waiting on the parts to come in, but I have been inspecting the rest of the truck to see what else I can patch up to make sure it doesn’t come back too soon.”  

The conversation veered to details about the truck, Ghost’s shoulders relaxed the more he droned on about the project. It was sometimes a relief to discuss work with other people than Soap and the guys at the shop. He was reluctant to admit that he found a kernel of camaraderie with Dr. Smith upon discovering he was a veteran as well. Ghost cared enough to learn about what he did with his time; a mechanical engineer that served and ducked out once his years were up. It sounded like he mildly enjoyed what he did, retiring so he could pursue a different career and took advantage of the education benefits. Smart man. Possibly something Ghost should have done but was too arrogant and young when he had first enlisted back in 2001. 

Dr. Smith pushed his bifocals up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so invested in a project before.” 

Shit. Ghost fell for the tactic. He let out an exhale as he leaned back in the cushy chair, turning away. “It’s for my neighbor.” 

The sounds of pen scratching against paper filled the silence. “Never heard you talk about your neighbor, or anyone else besides your old mates for that matter.” 

“Her truck breaking down is the reason why we met.” Ghost explained with a tension in his jaw.  

“Is she part of the reason for your loss of sleep?” 

Ghost muttered under his breath, “Christ.” He sat up in his chair and rolled his neck. “This is starting to feel more like a chat I would have with Johnny over drinks rather than a psych appointment.” 

Dr. Smith laid his pen flat on his yellow notepad. “It might not be ground breaking work we are doing here, but you managed to tell me more than you have in the past three sessions we have had.” He got up and walked behind his desk, retrieving a prescription pad from a drawer, and started writing. “If you want, I can up the dose or we can keep it the same and I’ll send you on your way with a refill.” 

There was a relief that came over Ghost. “Let’s keep it the same.” He didn’t want to talk about Andra anymore, and thankfully it was obvious to Dr. Smith. 

“Here we are.” Dr. Smith handed Ghost the white slip of paper with awful chicken scratch. “Keep looking for that humanity, Simon. It’s in there.” 

The truck took an uncomfortable amount of time to cool down. His shirt stuck to his body, increasing his irritation. Might as well start driving to the shop, it’s not gonna get any better. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and felt a haptic vibration in his hand. 

One missed call. 

From Andra. 

Ghost, it’s me. The adrenaline dump flooded his veins. She sounded upset and in distress. He’s never heard her on the verge of tears before, it was like a claw punched a hole in his chest and used his heart as a stress relief toy. Whoever, whatever made her this upset was high on his priority list to handle.  

He had to replay the message another time, realizing the rest was muffled out and ignored after the first three words. I’m alright, but my chickens got loose and one of them is missing. “Christ, woman...” Ghost let out a breath that he was holding in. What a way to start a voicemail, making him think the worst that could have possibly happened. She must have noticed it too because her next words sounded more level-headed.  

He killed the line with the voicemail inbox and dialed the auto shop. “Rus, I gotta call out for the day. I’ll make up my hours, oh and let Mr. Caldwell know his vehicle will be ready tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be there for his pickup.”  

There was no fuss about Ghost calling in on short notice. He was the one person in the shop that the supervisor didn’t have to worry about. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t say the same about Soap sometimes.  

Ghost shut the door a little harder than he meant to, his head fell back against the headrest as he took a deep breath. Was it happening again? He reached into the glove box, retrieving his pills. His hand tightly gripped around the small orange vial as he worked on controlling his breath. Inhale for five, exhale for five. Ghost hated that stupid technique, it felt ridiculous. But it worked. The panic was subsiding, and the pill bottle fell from his hand onto the floorboard of the truck beside his foot.  

Ghost picked it back up and tossed it into the neat compartment, leaving the parking lot of the office to make his way over to her. 

He pulled up to the sight of Andra kneeling before the broken part of the fence line, putting some kind of temporary fix for the day. Her head perked up as she noticed him coming closer, parking in the dirt driveway. Andra got up on her feet and wiped loose grass and dirt off of her jeans, her eyes red and puffy. He killed the engine and stepped out of the truck. 

“What are you doing here?” Andra sniffled, trying and failing to hide the fact that she’s been crying. 

“Got your message.” He answered. 

Her lip quivered as tears welled up in her irritated eyes again, and she turned her head away to look at the pen. “Ghost, you didn’t have to show up.” She covered her face in her hands, taking in a deep breath. “I just wanted you to let me know if you find him, this didn’t have to turn into a search party.” 

“Where do the tracks end?” 

Andra looked at him again after wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “This way, maybe I’m not sure.” 

He wanted to rag on her about her lack of confidence in tracking prints, but didn’t when he remembered who he was talking to. There was nothing worse in this moment than seeing her so worked up and upset over this damn chicken. He was going to find it for her, it couldn’t have gone far. 

She led him to an area and pointed to the pockmarked ground full of three-toed prints. “This is where they mainly stayed, and, the tracks are just all over the place and don’t really lead anywhere…” 

“There,” Ghost pointed out a trail of individual tracks that led astray. Of course, it wandered off into the thick wooded area of her land. He headed back to the truck to retrieve his pistol, tucking it into the backside waistband of his jeans. Andra wasn’t fazed at the sight of his gun, probably reminded her of being back home. “Stay here, I don’t want you getting hurt out there.” 

“I’m going.” She protested with a broken voice as she followed behind him. 

“I don’t want you getting hurt out there.” Ghost stopped to turn back to her. “And we don’t know if there are any wild animals out there.” 

“You’re gonna want me out there, trust me.” Her voice was firmer this time; she wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

Ghost sighed as he observed her small, trembling frame. She really needed to put something on other than loafers.  “Go put on some sensible shoes, and we’ll look together.” 

Andra was quiet, all except for the crunching leaves beneath her boots. Ghost took the rear, letting her take lead at a short distance. If she was going to trip, fall or hurt herself he would be able to prevent it from turning into a disaster this way. Her shoulders slumped, but her head swiveled as she combed her surroundings. 

“You ever explore these woods?” Ghost breaks the thick silence, and attempt to pull her from her somber. 

She glanced over her shoulder in dismay. “No, I’ve never had the courage to come out here alone. I hear howling late in the night sometimes.” She resumed her diligent search, and Ghost doubled down on what he thought she looked over too quick. 

The tracks were growing thinner, but they still led them into the path of ancient trees. Sunrays bled through the leaves and branches of birch and ash trees, cascading ribbons of light down on Andra. Her hair shimmered with bits of blonde strands within her brunette hair, something Ghost never noticed before. Every rustle made her stop, startled by unknown wildlife. Most times it was the scuttles of lizards across stepping stones and miniature boulders. When it wasn’t this damn chicken, her shoulders would fall with a sigh. 

“We’ll hear it before we see it.” Ghost reassured her. 

“He’s probably dead by now…” 

It pained him to see Andra sulk over her lost animal. Ghost stopped beside where she planted herself, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked down to his touch, then up to his masked face in surprise. “Let’s keep looking.” His hand retreated before she could place her own hand over his, then another rustle in a wild bush a few meters ahead alerted him. 

The damn bird came clucking out from behind it. 

“Ted!” Andra exclaimed as she raced to him, collecting the brainless animal into her arms and embraced him. “You stupid fucking bird, making us come out here to get you.” 

“You named the bloody thing Ted?” Ghost deadpanned. 

She plucked bits of leaves and twigs out of Ted’s feathers. “I never said I was good with coming up with names for animals.” 

Ghost chuckled at the sight of the brightness returning to her face. She met his eyes, kindness and gratitude radiating before she could even tell him with words. “Thank you, Ghost. You’re always coming to my rescue.” 

His heart jolted at her words. “Don’t make a habit of it.” Andra’s giggle made him turn away to hide his sheepish reaction. Andra passed him up, focused on grooming Ted and insulting him fifty different ways. Something caught his eye before he started to follow her. 

Footprints. 

Not their footprints, these were in an area off the beaten path. Ghost retrieved his firearm before stalking towards them, inspecting the prints. They were older, it wasn’t from recently and there were more than one set. Three sets of footprints. He turned his attention to the direction Andra was walking away, unaware that he stopped to investigate. 

It couldn’t be some random people or even kids coming out to wander these woods, at least that’s what Ghost convinced himself. They were too far out away from town, away from other neighboring people. Who knows, maybe the group was traveling their own acres and turned back around once they realized they came into someone else’s property. He really wanted to believe that, and not the darker theory that crept into his thoughts. Or did she lie about coming out here? Why would she do that? She could have easily explained she had gone exploring with a group. 

All of the prints looked too big for her foot size.  

Ghost didn’t want to alarm Andra. He just got her to smile again, this conversation will come up later.

----- 

Ghost was relieved to see Andra’s spirits lifting without another tear in sight. That stupid bird put her through enough turmoil, he’d rather never have to see her like that again. She was going over the details of how the broken pen and runaway chickens were discovered. “They would have all been gone if Sammy hadn’t barked at the window.”  

“What had you so distracted?” Ghost poked with mild curiosity.  

Her answer left out of her rushed before she could stop herself. “I was reading – and in between I was prepping some dough to make sourdough bread.” She interrupted herself once more, lost in her own thoughts. “Oh no, did I leave it on the counter or did I put it in the oven to rise? It’ll be fine if it rises for a few more hours, right?”  

It sounded like she was talking to herself more than asking Ghost, which was fine because he didn’t know the first thing about baking bread. He chuckled to himself. “Horror or romance?”  

“Huh?” Her external ramble was interrupted.  

“Were you reading horror or romance this time?” Ghost glanced at her briefly, his smirk concealed beneath the mask.  

Andra went sheepish once more. “Romance,” then, her tone shifted as she grumbled, “It was getting good until you gave my pen Ojo.”  

Ghost whipped his head to her direction quickly with a perplexed expression. “I did what now?” What does an eye have to do with anything?  

“You gave it the Evil Eye,” she looked back to him. “That’s why it broke.”  

His fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change, feeling even more confused now. Ghost let out a lighthearted scoff. “It’s my fault that it broke now?”  

Andra huffed a defeated sigh. “No, I’m just being ridiculous.”  

If that’s what it was, Ghost found it amusing. “So now you’re gonna ‘ave to explain the Evil Eye to me.”  

“We have this superstition in Mexican/Hispanic culture where if you look at something for too long, you can potentially send bad energy its way. It can be an object or a person, and to cancel it out you can touch it or them.”  

“That’s not a thing.” Ghost retorted, holding back laughter. “I never heard about that when I was in Mexico.”  

A playful smirk crept over Andra’s face. “Maybe because they believed you were the Evil Eye incarnate.”  

Ghost let out a sarcastic laugh. “Very clever.” The truck rolled into the parking lot of the hardware store, locating a convenient parking spot nearest to the store. Ghost cut the engine, and sat there for a second. “Well, if that’s the case,” Andra gave him a puzzled look as he reached out to run a strand of her soft hair between his fingers. “That way your hair doesn’t fall out.”  

The gesture was well worth the furious blush that spread over her face like wildfire, despite his own heart jackhammering in his chest.

-----  

Ghost was reassessing the hole in the pen while Andra let out Sammy to run around and handle her business. He gives her a quick greeting pet before standing on his feet, gesturing to the pen. “We can either replace this side or replace the entire perimeter.” 

“Might as well use all of the supplies I bought.” Andra pulled her work gloves out from her back pocket and slipped them on. “We work on different sides?” 

He nodded with a grunt. Watching Ghost haul the supplies off the bed of his truck was something Andra couldn’t pull her focus away from. What is wrong with me? She was acting like the sight of muscle and sinew flexing and tightening beneath his work shirt was… erotic. And Gods, every time he grunted and growled from the weight of whatever he hauled off his truck… that’s it, no more romance books for you for a week. He slid on his own gloves, this pair had her biting back a smirk. They matched his skull balaclava, and it made her wonder if he shuffled around in skeleton-patterned socks in the comfort of his house. 

She looked away with a smirk when Ghost noticed she was gawking. “I know, I know, don’t say anything.” 

“I didn’t.” Andra’s voice went up in pitch. Her smile grew when she caught a glimpse of him shaking his head in her peripherals. 

Ghost was fun to tease, and his choice of gear made it easier to find something to poke fun at. Was it low hanging fruit? Sure, but it’s all she had to tease him for. The joking around was her way of trying to learn more about people, and if they could laugh or joke back, they were worth getting to know. It was the ones who stuck their noses up at Andra that she steers clear from. 

The work began, and Ghost had Andra looking like she had never picked up a hardware tool in her life. While she had one length of old fencing nails removed, Ghost was nearly done with the sides of his wall. The man knew how to work efficiently, it didn’t even look like he was breaking a sweat. 

“Did your dad teach you how to do blue collar work?” Andra asked as she struggled with a nail. 

His rhythm and focus was derailed by her question. “No, old man wasn’t worth shit.” 

Oh… the gravel in his voice sent a chill down her spine. Estranged father, got it. 

Ghost resumed, cutting out the needed dimensions of chicken wire. Andra could see him blink a few times, that calloused glare lingering. “I did some work in basic and before I was sent off to my specialized unit, not making chicken pens, but we learned out way around manual tools for several things.” He went quiet once more to concentrate on the measurements. 

Andra threw aside the old chicken wire once she pulled out all of the nails. “Do you have any siblings?” 

He hesitated before answering. “An older brother.” 

“Oh.” She started unfurling her needed piece of wire. “Do you stay in contact with him?” 

“No.” His answer came out short and quick, nearly cutting Andra off. 

What am I doing? Andra frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something you don’t want to talk about.” 

Ghost sighed as he used the staple gun to nail in the new wire. “No one ever asks, so I’m not used to talking about it. Considering you’re quite chatty, it was bound to come up.” Her cheeks burned from his comment. “Maybe someday.” 

That hardened look softened to humor, and relief washed over her. Don’t bring up the family. She felt stupid for mentioning it. Maybe she would never learn more about the mysterious man who, for some reason, kept helping her out when she’s been nothing but trouble. He was right about one thing; Andra is chatty. And she didn’t want to give up talking to him. She decided to switch gears. 

“Hey Ghost.” Andra grinned to herself. 

“Hmm.” 

“Don’t challenge Death to a pillow fight. Unless you’re prepared for the reaper cushions.” 

Ghost froze in place, his eyes flickered to her. “Not bad.” 

“Your turn.” She encouraged. 

He took a second to think of one. “What do you call a dog with no legs? Doesn’t matter, he won’t come anyway.” 

Andra peered over her shoulders. “Don’t let Sammy hear that one.” Ghost chuffed a laugh. “My favorite Disney movie is the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I love a hero with a twisted back story.” 

That one managed to get a snicker out of Ghost. This dork likes puns. 

“What did Kermit the Frog say at his puppeteer’s funeral? Not a word.” 

He’s morbid, and it’s great. 

“Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.” 

There was a beat of a pause. “That was bad.” 

“C’mon, it was good.” She laughed. 

“I have bad puns, but that one was awful.” 

The lacerating pain hit her hot and fast. “Fuck!” The whipping sound of the wire sprung against the wall, make it stop in its tracks.

Ghost immediately shot up onto his feet, flying over the short distance she was away from him along with Sammy galloping over in concern for her momma.  He saw the blood saturating her jeans as well as the gash that was oozing beneath the torn denim. “Let’s get you inside.” Ghost had linked his arms underneath her shoulders and hoisted her with ease, earning a growl of pain from her. “I got you, we’ll take it slow. Do you have a first floor bathroom?”

Andra threw an arm over his shoulder as he guided her to the house, giving him directions for the bathroom he led her to. Sammy stayed behind them the entire time, whining and panting as if feeling helpless. Andra coaxed her companion with reassuring words in hopes to calm her down. She was hissing and groaning the entire way there, and her attempts of trying to focus on anything else but the pain failed her, until a smell hit her. Was that cardamom? It filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, trying to disguise it as a inhale to calm her down. Technically, it did the job because wholly Gods, he smelled like a comfort she never had.

He swung open the front door, carrying most of her weight. Hell, he could easily carry all of her weight if he really wanted to. “Is there a first aid kit in here?” Ghost asked while he eased her down on the lip of the bathtub. Sammy laid by the bathroom door, watching Ghost closely to make sure he's taking care of Andra.

“Yeah, below the sink,” she whined. He didn’t waste any time finding it. “God, today really stuck it to me.”

“Bad things come in three, isn’t that the saying?” Ghost quipped, earning a snort from her. “If the broken pen is the first and Ted was the second, this one must be the third.” He slid off his gloves and ran his hands through soap and water in the basin. “Can you pull up that pant leg?”

Andra tried, but it had her wincing from the flashes of pain. “Nope, that’s not gonna work.” Ghost returned, his fingers tugged at the zipper of the first aid kid before kneeling in front of her. “There’s a pair of scissors in that bag, I don’t care about losing a pair of jeans-” His damp hands settled her leg between his thighs to stabilize it, and with hardly any effort at all he tore the denim wide open. Christ alive. “Or you can do that.”

“Let’s get this cleaned up and wrapped.” Ghost abandoned her leg to swiftly rummage for the necessary supplies. Antiseptic, gauze, and self-adhesive bandage. With everything lined up beside him, Ghost gripped the back of her leg, right onto her tensed up calf and gently moved it. She could feel the tremor in his hand. “It’s not deep, you won’t need stitches.”

Andra sighs in relief, followed by a yelp when an antiseptic-doused washcloth was applied onto the wound. His sorry was quiet and short, if she heard it. A deep focus washed over her from the sight of Ghost knelt before her, caressing her leg while the other hand cleaned her off. The pain suddenly didn’t feel as bad as before, now when his touch became her entire focus. His thumb was tracing little circles into her flesh, just barely.

He must have noticed how still and quiet Andra went. His Autumn brown eyes looked up to her, devoid of distance. His stare had its own gravitational pull, sucking her in. Christ, am I really getting this worked up? It made her feel like she knocked back two fingers worth of whiskey, her legs turning to jelly and her brain now fuzzy.

“Is that okay?”

A breath caught itself in her throat. She’s never heard him whisper like that before. A head nod was all she could manage. Ghost returned back to her wound, and she’s so thankful for it. Suddenly, the ceiling got much more interesting to look at. But that scent floated near her nostrils once more; that was definitely cardamom and something else she couldn’t place. Something soothing, something that made his musk smell… delectable. Her cheeks were red hot from the thought, the need, to press her face into his shirt, the neckline of his balaclava, anything, to sear that scent into her mind.

The cloth of the gauze patch stuck to the fleshy bit of her knee, and she’s startled by the rip of the self-adhesive bandage.

“Done.”

Andra braves a glance at her knee, flexing it slightly to test the hold of Ghost’s handiwork. Of course, he would know how to patch her up in a pinch, and she tries not to think about how many of his brothers in arms he had to do this – and much worse – for.

Further down, sitting on the tops of his thigh was a trembling hand, the other one continued its soft ministrations on her calf. It’s like it was for his own comfort rather than hers. Regardless, she could melt from the soothing sensation it brought her. She was scared of doing something that would make him pull away, but as if he read her mind, Ghost did it anyway.

“Thank you.” Andra warbles sheepishly. “I get to keep the limb because of you.”

Ghost let out a chuckle, his shoulders releasing some trapped tension there. “I’ll finish up out there.” He stood up, and offered Andra a hand to help her get to the living room couch, leaving there with a tornado wrecking every thought about what had happened.

Idiot idiot idiot.

Ghost was just helping her, Andra drilled in her head. It didn’t mean anything the way he touched her, right? Or the way he spoke, the words cutting through her like soft butter. Or the look he gave her. She’s delusional, right? Andra rubbed a hand over her face, desperately wishing she had a bottle of wine in the kitchen.

The hour she spent sitting there chewing her nails and petting Sammy felt like a death sentence. She could catch glimpses of Ghost through the screen door. Every now and then he would shake his head at himself. Her heart sank to her stomach. Maybe he was frustrated with having to help her out today. For having to possibly take time out of a work day to deal with her bullshit. And then that whole thing with bringing up his family…

Stupid stupid stupid.

Andra was so deep in her head, she didn’t realize Ghost had come back inside until the screen door smacked the doorway behind him. “Everything’s solid now.”

She braved a gentle grin. “Thank you Ghost. I meant it earlier, you’re always coming to my rescue and I don’t take that for granted.”

He gave her a terse nod as he pushed open the screen door, his hand resting on the top of the threshold. “Try not to need any more savin’ for a while, hmm?”

Andra couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

-----

The truck will be ready tomorrow. 

Tomorrow is today. Andra looked over Ghost’s text again as if there’s a hidden, underlying message in his words. She chews at the innards of her cheek, tapping a foot on her tile floors. It was one of the first messages Andra has received from him that was more than one word. He had checked in several days after he repaired the pen at least, but after giving Andra a short ‘Good’, radio silence. 

She didn’t bother asking Johnny about Ghost. If she was someone that Ghost didn’t want to keep in contact with, fair enough. She’s felt like an enormous burden for the both of them since Ghost found her on the side of the road. Besides, Sunday mornings were already busy enough with Johnny accumulating a harem of regular customers. It was great for business, replenishing the crater that the transmission fix left in her savings. She was preparing for the plummet that was going to follow when the ladies realize Johnny wasn’t returning. 

As well as preparing for the possibility that both of them might go back to being strangers. They never crossed paths before, or at least she doesn’t recall ever seeing a masked man and his mohawked companion in public. 

Andra sighed as she tucked her phone into her back pocket, reaching for her coffee mug on the kitchen counter she leaned against. Maybe she overthought the moment he spent patching up her wound. It left a pink scar slashing across her knee, trailing down her shin. No, stop the gaslighting. His hands definitely lingered on her for longer than anyone should have. She wished he had stayed longer, wished he had done more. 

“Hellooo?” Johnny’s voice carried through the entrance. Andra was used to him coming in when the front door is left open, yet she was jolted back to reality once her inner monologue was interrupted. He offered to come get her before going in for his own shift. Still extremely reluctant to accept gas money for the miles he had put into travelling back and forth. 

“In here,” Andra called out as she finished the rest of her coffee, rinsing out the mug and leaving it to sit in the basin.  

Johnny couldn’t stop talking about some girl that worked at the fish and chip shop he frequents on lunch breaks as they drove to the shop. “You think it means something if she goes outta her way t’ring us up? I mean, sometimes she’ll be in the back and will take over when she hears me.” 

Andra scoffs. “How more obvious does she have to be?” 

He clicks his tongue. “I just don’ wanna make it awkward if there’s nothin’ there.” 

“Don’t be a dick about it, then there won’t be anything to worry about.” Andra got the feeling that Johnny didn’t have the best track record with women. Hence why he was so clueless about this one. 

The two of them walked into the shop jabbing jokes at each other when Andra saw Ghost behind the counter, leaning into his fist as he looked down at an open book. He was sporting the same navy button up shirt with the shop’s logo embroidered above the left breast pocket, the sleeves rolled up to his biceps to reveal his tattoos and smudges of car grime. She could see a tension shift in his shoulders, like he was fighting the urge to look up at her. Okay…? Johnny tapped a fist on Ghost’s shoulder and continued to breeze past him, walking through a door that led to the depot. Andra approached the counter with a frigid apprehension, tapping her fingertips against the surface. “Hey, is now a good time to pick up my truck?” 

“Aye.” Ghost kept his focus on the ledger he was working on, then turned away without a glance to file through a cabinet to search for her invoice. One-worded answers again. 

She let a few seconds of suffocating silence pass before trying again. “The breeder I had bought my chickens from hit me up to let me know she’s got a goat that’s going to give birth soon. I was thinking about taking the kid off of her hands.” More flitting of paper. “I’ll have to expand and build another pen once I can bring it home.” 

“Hmm.” Was all Ghost gave her. A mere acknowledging hum if that. He retrieved a paper with a small zip-lock bag containing her key, stapled to it and returned it to the counter. “Sign this to indicate that we released your vehicle back to ye, if you want, we can inspect the truck really quick to see if everything is in order.” 

His cold attitude and lifeless voice was a punch in the gut. “Did I do something wrong?” No response, just a hand picking up a pen from a worn out metal cup followed by a slide of the pen across the counter. Her expression hardened, and she scribbled a half-assed signature before shoving the pen down. “No, an inspection isn’t necessary. Okay, so I definitely misread the whole interaction in the bathroom then. Not only did she misread it, but the whole thing was also in a different language. Now this passive-aggressive stand-off was Ghost’s way of interpreting it for her. Message received, loud and clear.

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