#and then it was all of a sudden like my entire life was in crisis and i couldn't breathe and

[elytrafemme]

this year (as in, from august until now) has been a lot for me in terms of like... everything changing, having to come to terms with a lot of things, a lot of important conversations and realizations. and i think yesterday night it really hit me just how many things are starting to piece together, all that i have to grieve but all the things i’m better off now understanding. 

and it’s funny that this was the one thing that really stuck out to me, but yesterday i was trying to explain to my sister how i can’t really open up to people because of the way my emotions work, which is largely a BPD thing, and then i realized as i was telling her like. there have been so many times since i’ve started using the internet and discord where i felt extremely guilty for the way that i would open up to people, it was like an avalanche. i can’t just confide in one thing, it’s a thousand and nobody knows how to handle it because there’s so much. and i never knew what was wrong with me so i just assumed that this was my fault, that i was a bad person for it. 

realizing that this is just... how i work, and that i just needed to be kind enough to myself to realize it was a recurring problem, something that i could maybe fix once i worked it out, was both relieving but also kind of sad. because i spent-- and still spend-- so much time angry at the fact that i can’t just say one complaint and be done, everything comes out. and i think maybe the hardest part of growing up is looking back at the things you used to blame yourself for and realizing that they were just cries for help.

[starlightkun]

⏯ word count: 16.6k ⏯ warnings: general angst around not knowing what you’re doing with your life, the usual cursing ⏯ genre: fluff, suggestive/steamy but no actual smut, strangers to lovers, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, office worker!reader, not really badboy x good girl trope, more like sungchan has tattoos and reader is… a bit boring and hates her job. but she’s trying!, reader is having a quarter life crisis, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ author’s note: take a shot every time i say ‘tattoos’ in this fic, and you’ll die of alcohol poisoning! ⏯ sequel ⏯ now playing… quarter life – txt | NEED (ooo-eee) – løren | medicine – woz

“If you really want to do something brand new…” Sungchan took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

“You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

“Y/N’s hit her quarter-life crisis,” Jaemin announced for you as the two of you joined your other friends at dinner.

You groaned and dropped your head in your hands, already regretting telling him your idea.

“24…” Renjun muttered to himself, then said louder, “Hey, life expectancy of 96, not bad.”

“So what is it?” Donghyuck grinned. “A tattoo? Nipple piercings? I can’t see any hair dye or choppy bangs done with kitchen scissors, so—”

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Jaemin shot him a disapproving look.

“So she doesn’t know what her quarter-life crisis is going to be yet? She’s… planning it out?” Jeno asked skeptically.

“No. She’s decided to do one spontaneous and/or new thing every day,” Jaemin explained your idea to the group.

“Oh. That’s not so bad.”

“So you’re in your manic pixie dream girl era… at 24,” Renjun nodded slowly.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straighter as you went to defend yourself. “It’s not a… thing. I’m just tired of feeling like my whole life is filler, okay?”

“Main character syndrome,” Donghyuck declared.

“No, I’m not going to expect the entire world to revolve around me and call random people in public NPCs,” you retorted. “I just want something different in my life, alright? You know I’ve never even gotten drunk?”

“24 is not the time to start,” Renjun stated disapprovingly.

“Exactly, we’re not 19. Can’t get blackout and snap back the next day anymore.” Jaemin shook his head.

Donghyuck looked a bit miffed at Jaemin’s advice. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’ve barely been tipsy,” you pointed out.

“So you’ve always had a prefrontal cortex, unlike us. Congrats,” Jeno shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing?”

“I’m the boring friend, aren’t I?”

“Boring isn’t bad!” Donghyuck tried to reassure you.

“So I am,” you huffed, dropping your cheek into your palm.

“You’re plenty of fun, Y/N,” Jaemin promised, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“If we didn’t like you, and didn’t have fun with you, we wouldn’t hang out with you,” Jeno pointed out, actually sort of making you feel a little better.

“I’m fun like rotting in bed all day is fun.” You knew you were just pouting now, but you were finding it hard to shake your sullen feeling.

“Exactly!” Donghyuck said brightly.

“Shut up!” Jaemin hissed at him, and you heard a sudden yelp as you imagined that Jaemin had kicked your other friend under the table.

“Y/N, do what you need to do.” Renjun leaned forward across the table. “We’re your friends, so here’s the obligatory: don’t die, don’t get maimed, and if you do something illegal, don’t get arrested.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys. I’m not even doing crazy things. Yesterday I walked home instead of taking the subway,” you informed them glumly.

“That’s new!” Jaemin cheered supportively, squeezing your shoulders.

“Yeah, whatever…”

Clutching your tote bag strap tighter to your body, you turned onto a street, trying to ignore the sun that was getting lower in the sky. Surely this way would lead towards your apartment. You’d lived in this city your whole life, you could walk from your work to your home, two places that you went to every single day.

There was a tall man outside one of the shops on this street, and you went to skirt around him on the sidewalk as he swept a few stray leaves and dirt out of a bookstore. Other than him, the street was fairly quiet, many of the stores having already closed up for the day.

“What are you doing?” The young man called out to you before you could fully pass him by.

You pivoted around on your heel, quickly looking around to see if there was anybody else that he could possibly be talking to. But it was definitely just you and him.

He looked about your age, wearing a cream pink long-sleeve button down presumably as part of the store uniform, though you weren’t sure if he really needed to have it buttoned all the way to the top button. It seemed a bit too warm out for that.

“Walking. Why?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve walked by here.” He did a sweeping point to the sidewalk in front of the shop, then leaned against the broom he had been cleaning with. “Wasn’t sure if you might have a particular destination in mind.”

“Fuck! I knew I was going in circles!”

“You’re lost.”

“Yeah, this isn’t my normal way home…”

“And your phone died?” He cocked his head curiously.

“No, I’m trying to get home without using my phone map,” you admitted, looking around for any familiar landmarks.

“Why? That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s… You’ll think it’s stupid. My friends did.”

He shrugged. “Probably. But why does that matter to you? I’m just some guy.”

“I’ve been doing something new every day. Just small things. But if I change enough little things, then everything will have changed.”

The guy was quiet for a beat, looking altogether unimpressed, then asked, “Where do you live?”

“Uh…”

“General area, see if I can give you directions from here.”

“Oh, uhm, if you can get me to the tea shop on Magnolia, I can get myself home from there.”

“Jade Gardens, I know it,” he nodded, then pointed left down the street, in the same direction that you had just come from. “That way, left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, another right onto Broad Street, it’ll eventually dead end into Magnolia, keep going until you see the tea shop.”

“Left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, right onto Broad,” you recited. “Got it, thank you!”

“Stay safe.” He waved you off, returning to sweeping without seeing if you had gone the way he’d pointed you.

It was Monday that you got lost and were given directions home by the questionably friendly but overall helpful bookstore worker, and the tea shop on Magnolia had been on your mind since. So on Thursday, you decided to stop by after work. You were running low on the green tea that you usually kept in stock at home, and thought that you might pick up something new for yourself.

Opening the door to Jade Gardens that Thursday, you were enveloped by the familiar aromatic smells wafting around the small shop. When you didn’t hear the usual kind voice of the owner, Mrs. Choi, greeting you, you peered around the aisle that you were in to look for her.

“Mrs. Choi?” You called out, also not hearing her TV show that she usually was watching behind the counter between helping customers. You were by the black teas anyway, so you didn’t mind wandering into the next aisle as you looked for any other sign of life in the shop.

“She’s not in,” a voice that was definitely not Mrs. Choi informed you right as you turned the corner into the beginning of the green teas. You could see enough of the man’s profile to recognize him as he stood by some of the shelves in the store. The worker from the bookstore. He was standing over an open cardboard box, a couple tins of tea in his hands.

“Uhm…” You trailed off, blinking at him as you weren’t sure exactly what to say. He placed the tins on the shelf.

“You think I’m stalking you, don’t you?” He said flatly, turning to show you the name badge on his longsleeve teal shirt. It was metallic gold, with the name SUNGCHAN engraved into it. “I work here too. For the past six months.”

“Oh, right.” You relaxed, flashing him a smile. As he went back to restocking and you went back to looking at the tea on the shelves that he wasn’t currently stocking, you commented lightly, “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work Tuesdays and Thursdays. You ever been here on a Tuesday or a Thursday?”

“No. I always come on Sundays.”

“There you go.” He had emptied the box of product he was restocking from, and carried it into the back. When he reemerged, he stopped behind the register, but engaged you in conversation again, “So is this your new thing for today? Coming on a Thursday instead of Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is your whole life different yet?”

“I’ve only been doing this for two weeks…” You replied defensively, looking over at him from the two kinds of green tea that you were debating between.

“Have you done anything new yet?” Sungchan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s the whole point—”

“From what I know, as some guy who doesn’t even know your name, is that you have walked home from work without using the maps on your phone—something you would have done anyway—and gone to a shop that you go to regularly, just on a different day of the week. Have you done anything that you’ve never done before at all?”

“My name is Y/N, by the way.” You bit the inside of your cheek, and grabbed your tea selection. “Ordering a drink I’ve never tried at my usual boba place doesn’t count, does it?”

“You already know the answer, Y/N.”

“The point isn’t to quit my job and travel the world and completely overhaul my life—”

“I thought it was to change everything?”

“If I change enough little things, then—”

“—everything will have changed.” “—everything will have changed.” The two of you finished at the same time, Sungchan putting more emphasis on ‘everything,’ a pointed look on his face.

“I just don’t get how everything is supposed to change by you coming to a tea shop on a different day one time, but still working the same job you hate,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How do you know I hate my job?!” You retorted, bringing your selections up to the counter.

“If you loved it, you wouldn’t be in a crisis about changing your whole life.”

“Do you like your two jobs?”

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, ringing up your purchases.

You handed him your card. “Fine?”

“They’re just my day jobs.”

“And what’s your night job then?”

A smirk grew on his face as he bagged your tins of tea. “Nah.”

“‘Nah?’” You repeated incredulously.

“You’re not doing anything new. No point telling you.”

“If it’s stand-up, I don’t want to know,” you snorted.

“It’s not stand-up.”

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re giving me real stand-up energy right now,” you snipped, gesturing to his entire demeanor. “I’m really glad you haven’t told me, actually, because I can’t control my face when I’m told bad jokes.”

“I don’t do stand-up comedy,” he reiterated with the same calm, self-assured tone, handing you your bag of tea and receipt.

“Considering you’re refusing to tell me, I’m convinced it’s like, open mic nights. Tight fives, not even a full—”

“Not stand-up,” he said again. “But considering how badly you’re begging me to tell you—”

“Pretty sure you’re the one desperately trying to convince me you don’t do stand-up, but—”

“If you really want to do something brand new…” He took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

You accepted the receipt when he held it back out to you. “You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

Your eyes scanned the address and time he had scrawled on your receipt. “Mosh pit?”

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck declared from beside you as soon as your group of friends entered the basement of the building that Sungchan had given you the address to. It was already packed with people, dark, and loud.

“Nobody drink anything!” Jaemin hissed, clutching onto your other arm. “Especially Y/N! Getting drunk is one thing, I don’t want getting roofied to be on your bucket list.”

“It’s not, Jaem,” you retorted. “Trust me.”

“Why the fuck are we here again?” Renjun yelled from behind you over the din of the crowd.

“Y/N met some hot guy—Ow!” Donghyuck had gotten cut off by you stomping on his foot.

“Sorry, it’s so crowded in here!” You glared at him. “I didn’t say anything about what he looked like. I needed something new to do for today, this seemed as good an option as any.”

“Okay, well, what the hell is this? Basement party?” Jeno asked, next to Renjun.

“I think it’s a concert?” You couldn’t see anything over the heads of the other people. “He said something about a mosh pit…”

They all exchanged a look.

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck repeated.

A roaring started up in the crowd, and you looked around in bewilderment to see what had gotten them all excited. In the far corner of the basement, it looked like a band was getting set up to play, two guitarists, a bassist, but it was the drummer that made you do a double take. You couldn’t be quite sure from the distance, the poor lighting, and the fact that the tank top he was wearing exposed two sleeves of tattoos along rather defined arms that you had never previously seen unclothed, but… that might just be Sungchan.

“We need to get closer,” you declared to your friends, yanking Jaemin along with you.

“What?!” Renjun yelped, following you nevertheless.

“Did you forget the part where he apparently said mosh pit?” Donghyuck scrambled after you.

“At least let Jeno be our human shield!” Jaemin pleaded with you.

“Thanks for volunteering me, Jaemin,” Jeno snorted, but willingly took the role, stepping in front of you to clear a path a bit easier than you had been doing on your own.

The five of you stuck out a bit, you noticed. You hadn’t exactly been given a dress code, nor a description of what to expect, so you did unfortunately stick out like a sore thumb among all the black, leather, and more black. It wasn’t that you were wearing a rainbow so much as you were clearly wearing something… uptight in comparison. Corporate. All you had was work clothes, and stuff to go to work dinners in. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to something even remotely like this. You’d done your best to dress down without wearing pajamas, but it was obvious that you were out of place.

Finally, you got close enough to the band to be able to make out the drummer’s face. He was looking down, making a final adjustment to his instrument, and when he looked back up, he pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. Definitely Sungchan. So this was his night job. Drummer. For just a second, his gaze flicked over the crowd, and you couldn’t be absolutely sure—after all, it was packed in there—but you swore he saw you for a second, surprise on his features for a moment before a cocky smirk overtook it.

One of the guitarists said something, they all had mics, you were pretty sure he was introducing the band or something, but this close to the speakers, all you could do was feel the words in your chest, not hear them with your ears. And when the music actually started, you felt like it was rearranging your brain matter. The crowd didn’t seem to really know the songs, as nobody sang along, but they were having fun nonetheless, dancing, jumping, and headbanging. As you got on your tiptoes to keep peering over Jeno’s shoulder at Sungchan, you found yourself bouncing along to the beat. Someone must have bumped into Renjun, as he stumbled into your back, and you let out a squeak and latched onto Jeno’s shoulders to avoid losing your balance.

“What is going on back there?” Jeno turned around.

You looked back at Renjun as well, who was now squeezing himself in between you and Donghyuck. Just behind and to the side of you, closer to the middle of the crowd, something was going on. Everyone was moving around a lot more, and… shoving each other?

“Mosh pit,” Renjun shook his head.

You kept your grip on Jeno’s shoulders, using them as leverage to stay on your tiptoes as you watched the performance. They had a lot of passion, you couldn’t deny that. You thought that maybe if you could actually parse out more of the melody and words being sung, you might even like their music.

Then it was over after what felt like less than a handful of songs. One of the guitarists seemed to thank the crowd briefly as Sungchan sat and spun one of his drumsticks mindlessly. And then they were done. The guitarists and bassist took their instruments with them as they disappeared into an adjoining room, and Sungchan stood up and took his sticks.

“They’re done, are we done?” Renjun requested.

“Sure, sure,” you agreed, having satiated your curiosity.

Back on the street, everyone let out a simultaneous breath of relief. Your lungs were happy to be inhaling fresh air again, and the sounds of the city streets at night felt quiet in comparison to that basement.

“My ears are ringing,” Jaemin groaned.

“Mine are bleeding,” Donghyuck scoffed.

“They weren’t that bad, Hyuck,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, which one was he?” He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Bookstore-slash-tea shop guy. Which one was he?”

“What?”

“He was in the band, wasn’t he? That’s why he invited you, that’s why you’re not agreeing with me right now. No way you actually liked that noise. So? Which one?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Bet he was the bassist,” Renjun took a crack at guessing. “Totally your type, Y/N.”

“I think it was the frontman, he would’ve been the only one shameless enough to beg for girls to come to their shows,” Jaemin retorted.

“Definitely not the drummer, did you see those tattoos? Our Y/N wouldn’t have gone to some random address that a guy like that gave her,” Jeno snickered.

“I’m not prejudiced, assholes,” you replied, a bit miffed when Jaemin and Renjun nodded their heads in agreement at Jeno’s assessment.

Jaemin gently reassured you, “No, of course not. You just… stick to what you know.”

“Says the four guys who were begging to leave. I thought I was supposed to be the boring friend?”

“There’s a difference between being fun and patently stupid,” Renjun snorted. “Going to a random address that some weird guy gives you falls into the second category.”

“I think it was the drummer,” Donghyuck announced, narrowing his eyes at you. “He invited you, didn’t he, Y/N?”

You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “He was wearing longsleeves…”

“Knew it,” he grinned victoriously. “The other guitarist was blonde. Blondes aren’t your type.”

“So I’m predictable even when I’m trying to be unpredictable?” You groaned.

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re still getting food, right?” Jeno asked hopefully.

“Hell yeah,” Donghyuck threw an arm around your neck and shook you around. “On Y/N!”

You elbowed him in the side. “Yes to food, fuck no I’m not paying for you again Hyuck. Freeload off someone else.”

“It’s not freeloading, it’s compensation, for the damage that your boyfriend’s shitty band did to my eardrums.”

“I don’t even know him, you dick.” You shoved him off you this time, inadvertently directly into Renjun, who complained loudly at being collateral damage. “Sorry, Renjun.”

“Push him off a bridge next time, not into me,” he scoffed, straightening his clothes.

“You’ve got to stop letting him rile you up, Y/N,” Jaemin advised you, looping his arm with yours.

“Says the man who was literally threatening to run him over two days ago.”

On Monday, you walked down the street with a particular destination in mind this time. You pushed the door to the bookstore open, making the bell above it ring lightly. The inside smelled like old books and pine.

“Sorry, we’re actually about to…” Sungchan trailed off when he looked up from the register and spotted you.

“Are you closing? I can go,” you offered, already sheepishly backing up towards the exit again.

“No, you can stay. Just turn the closed sign around and flip the lock for me, will you?” He gestured to the door.

You did so, and took a few hesitant steps further into the shop as he went back to closing out the register. You were admittedly staring at him a little, trying to line up the visage of the tattooed drummer you’d seen at the show with the man in a cream pink button-up in front of you, no visible body art in sight. His hair was nicely parted and styled to show some of his forehead; he could even blend in at your office.

“Wasn’t expecting you to actually show up,” Sungchan said, pushing the drawer of the register closed.

You rolled your eyes. “Do I really seem like that much of a drag?”

“You’re wearing a pantsuit.”

“It’s a blazer and slacks! That’s not—” You looked down at your own clothes, cutting yourself off with a huff. “Point taken. From the man wearing a pink button-up.”

“Uniform.” He indicated to the shop around him generally. “I’d wear the short-sleeve option, but I have to look… how’d Mr. Kang put it? Respectable.”

“Mm, of course. I almost didn’t recognize you without the sleeves and with the… sleeves,” you finished awkwardly, trying not to picture his biceps right in that moment.

He chuckled, sitting down on a stool behind the counter. “So who was the guy?”

It took you a second to follow his leap in conversation, and even then, you didn’t quite stick the landing, only able to explain, “The guys were my friends. You told me to bring some, if you’ll recall.”

“I meant the one that you were hanging onto the whole time.”

“I didn’t realize you were watching me the whole time,” you teased, tilting your head.

“You picked a spot right in front of me. Couldn’t help but notice.”

“Jeno is my friend, as I just said. He’s sturdy, I was trying not to fall over.”

Sungchan looked at his phone. “Have you done your new thing for today?”

“By your standards? No.”

He stood up, grabbing a backpack from the ground to sling over his shoulder and jerked his head towards a narrow hallway behind him. “Come on.”

With the voice of Jaemin nagging you in the back of your mind, you followed him. At the end of the hallway was the back door of the bookstore, which led you into the alleyway between rows of shops. Sungchan locked up behind you, then dropped his bag at his feet and opened it.

“Where are we going?” You questioned.

“Food. You haven’t had dinner, have you?” He replied, starting to unbutton his shirt from the collar.

You failed to come up with an answer as he untucked it and slipped one arm out. “What are you doing?”

“Changing my shirt.” He stared back at you, the button up hanging off of one arm. You could see now that the tattoos extended onto his pecs as well. “Turn around if you want.”

Feeling like you were losing some kind of challenge, you turned your back to him, continuing your previous conversation instead. “No, I haven’t eaten.”

“Neither have I.” The zipper on the bag opened.

“But what if I’ve been to the place before?”

“I don’t think you have.” Zipped back up.

“If you told me the name—”

“Ready,” Sungchan declared, stepping up next to you. He was now in a dark shirt that had the logo of what you were sure was another band on it, and a worn leather jacket with an assortment of patches. He ran his fingers through his hair, intentionally shaking it out of the nice style from before and into a more natural, messy state. He took off down the alley, leaving you to follow after him.

“You’re not going to tell me the name of the place we’re going, are you?” You sighed.

“No.”

“What if I have allergies?”

“Do you?”

“…No.”

Sungchan turned down another street. “You left early. You missed the other bands.”

“Didn’t know there were other bands, and my friends were hungry.” You shrugged, opting not to tell him that your friends hated his music and had been begging you to leave. And that you didn’t put up a fight about going.

“Leaving after four songs to get food. Your friends sound lame.”

“They’re fun,” you immediately went to defend them. “I’m the boring one out of us. They’ve at least actually gotten drunk.”

The two of you had reached a crosswalk with the stop hand lit up. You stopped and pressed the button to wait for it to change. Sungchan paused just long enough to look both ways, then took your elbow in a loose grip and pulled you into the empty crosswalk.

“Let’s go.”

“What are you—”

“There’s nobody coming.” His hand slid down your arm to grab your hand as he walked backwards in front of you, gesturing widely with his other arm. “See? Not the end of the world.”

“I’m going to laugh if you trip over the curb behind you,” you informed him mildly, already eyeing the approaching sidewalk.

“If I fall, I’m taking you down with me.” He grinned.

“And you’ll break my fall.”

“Like in every good rom-com.”

“Are we making bets on if you’ll have a first- or second-degree concussion from hitting your head on the pavement?”

Sungchan turned around then, just in time to step up onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. He smiled down at you smugly, and you made a small ‘hmph’ sound in the back of your throat. You noted that he didn’t let go of your hand as you kept walking. You didn’t shake him off.

“How far away is this place?” You checked the time on your phone. “I have work in the morning.”

“Not too far. I can’t be out late either. I have practice tonight.”

“You called the bookstore and the tea shop your day jobs, and the band is your night job…”

“Uh-huh.”

“We didn’t have to pay a cover or anything to get in on Friday. How much does your night job actually pay?”

“That one was for fun. And a twelve-pack,” he answered nonchalantly. “Where we are now, a gig is a gig.”

“They paid you in beer and exposure?” You summarized dryly.

“It was just a friend’s basement, not a real concert venue or anything.”

“Oh, underground. Literally.”

He snorted. “You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

“Maybe you should do stand-up.”

“No thanks, my day job is paying me just fine.”

He clicked his tongue. “And yet you hate it.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“You’ve yet to tell me otherwise.”

You sighed, but unfortunately, you couldn’t outright disagree with him. The two of you turned onto another street, where you bumped up into the back of a line for a food truck. Sungchan stopped you there, letting go of your hand to reach into his jacket and pull out his wallet.

“You got cash on you?” He asked, flicking through the bills in his wallet.

“No, do I need some?” You only had your phone and your credit cards.

“They’re cash only,” he nodded towards the food truck. “It’s fine, I’ll pay.”

“Sungchan, you don’t have to,” you insisted. “We can just eat somewhere else.”

“My idea, you didn’t know, I’ll pay.” He shook his head. The line moved up then, and he urged you forward with a hand on the small of your back. “Unless you think I’m broke because I don’t have some office job that I hate like you.”

“I didn’t say that! But you did just tell me you recently got paid in beer and exposure.”

“And have two other jobs,” he reminded you.

You didn’t outright accept his offer, but didn’t argue anymore. Getting on your tiptoes, you tried to look for a menu over the other customers in line.

“What do they even have?”

“Changes every week. We’ll find out when we order.”

“What if you don’t like what they’re selling this week?”

“What do I keep telling you? Live a little.”

“Fine.” You dropped back down to flat feet with a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know about this place?”

“Couple of my friends run it, when they’re not playing.”

“They’re in a band too?”

“Uh-huh. That’s why it’s only open once a week. They’re performing or rehearsing every other day.” The line moved up again.

“Why have a food truck then? Food trucks run on narrow margins, they can’t be making enough money to cover their living expenses if they only do it once a week.”

“It’s not their day job. Music is.” He pointed to a piece of paper that was taped onto the side of the truck, the handwriting so faded you could barely make it out. Sungchan told you what it said anyway, “All the profits go to a local women’s shelter. And a lot of their ingredients and other stuff is donations, makes the margins a little less narrow.”

When you looked up at him curiously, he simply added, “The most punk thing you can do is help people.”

The two of you were finally at the front of the line, and a man’s head popped into view at the window. With the t-shirt he had on, you could see the tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of skin from his knuckles to his neck, the ink looking well-settled. He had gauges in his ears, the jewelry a bright rainbow of colors, and you couldn’t even count how many other piercings he had in addition to those. He seemed older than yourself and Sungchan, maybe late thirties or even early forties if you had to guess, a few specks of grey peppering his stubble.

He flashed Sungchan a bright smile as soon as he recognized him, deep crow’s feet around his eyes. “Hey, Sungchan! How are you? Sorry we missed your set Friday, SooSoo was up all night with a fever.”

“Don’t worry about it. Is she feeling better?” Sungchan asked.

“Yep, fever finally broke at like three in the morning Saturday, back to her normal self by Sunday.”

“Good to hear.”

“Anyway, let’s get you some food. I’m sure you didn’t bring your girl all the way out here to hear about my sick baby,” the older man chuckled.

Sungchan just laughed along and put in your orders. When the man turned around to help the other worker, a woman, prepare the food, you looked up at him suspiciously.

“Hm?” He had apparently noticed your look. “Oh, sorry, he was talking about his daughter, Yeonsoo. She’s… oh probably six months old now? Real cute.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Here you go.” The man was back at the window, two paper baskets of food in hand.

Sungchan went to grab a few bills out of his wallet. “How much?”

“On the house.”

“Jay, come on. Seriously, man, how much?”

“I’m serious, no charge tonight.” Jay shook his head. “You’ve never brought a date. So say thank you, don’t keep her waiting, and stop holding up my line.”

Sungchan sighed, stuffing the bills he had already grabbed into the tip jar that was on the counter and taking the food. “Thanks, man.”

“Goodnight, you two!” Jay sent you off with a jovial wave. Before you got too far, you could’ve sworn you heard a woman’s voice ask from inside the truck, “Did you say Sungchan had a date with him?”

The drummer handed you a basket of food as you started a meandering pace down the sidewalk. You took a bite to avoid talking about what just happened, despite the fact that it was very much the only thing you were thinking about.

“Oh, that’s really good,” you said, unable to contain your tone of pleasant surprise.

“I wasn’t going to take you somewhere shit for your new thing,” he replied.

“So if I told you that I had already completed my new thing for today, we would’ve gone somewhere with bad food?”

“Well, no, because I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Oh, of course,” you scoffed.

“You probably would’ve counted going to see me at the bookstore as your something new, right?”

“I’ve never done that before. I don’t know how that doesn’t count.”

“You have talked to me at the bookstore before. When I gave you directions.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t on purpose. And I didn’t go into the store, and it wasn’t like, a real conversation.”

“Still doesn’t count.”

“And who assigned you to decide if something counts or not? This is my thing.”

“You’re the one listening to me. I’m just some guy, remember? You could’ve told me to fuck off at any point.” He took a big bite of his food, wiping at the stray crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand. “So either you’re really easy to peer pressure—which I doubt, considering you’ve never even gotten drunk—or you actually kind of agree with me.”

You were silent, scowling down at your rather delicious food.

“Which is it? Want me to fuck off or am I maybe kinda right?”

“Why do you even care?” You questioned in lieu of an answer. “I’m just someone who you gave directions to one time. Why do you care if I actually change my whole life with my stupid little plan?”

“Who said I care?”

“Then what is all this?”

“I’m not trying to be your life coach, Y/N.” Sungchan shrugged, then his features split into a grin. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be along for the ride.”

You stared down at your feet as you thought about it, about how different Sungchan’s life was from yours just from the brief glimpses you’d gotten of it. Looking back up at him, you nodded. “I could probably use some help brainstorming new things…”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Hell no.”

Sungchan grabbed your arm before you could turn and walk away from him completely. When he’d texted you the address to meet at, you thought that surely the online maps listing hadn’t been updated recently, and it was actually a restaurant or concert venue, or any other litany of things. But no, you were in fact standing in front of a tattoo shop with Sungchan, as your something new for today.

“Not for you, not for you,” he quickly reassured you. “I’m getting a new one. Have you ever been in a tattoo shop?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the darkened windows apprehensively. “No…”

“I promise you’ll make it out alive,” he teased, to which you shot him an unamused glare. “Let’s go.”

Inside was surprisingly quiet. Rock music played over the speakers at a low volume, and there was already one artist set up with a client, the tattoo gun buzzing as she worked on a large piece on their calf. But really, you’d been in libraries that were louder. Sungchan guided you over to the front desk with a hand on your back, the man behind it already standing up to greet him.

“Sungchan, hey!” The guy beamed, reaching out to shake Sungchan’s free hand. He was younger, around your age, maybe a few years older, with a patchwork sleeve of dozens of colorful, bold tattoos along his arms.

“Hey, Johnny,” Sungchan shook his hand. “How are you?”

“Just got back from doing guest slots out of town, so I’m happy to get back in the groove of my usual shop.” Johnny’s twinkling eyes then focused on you. “And who’s this?”

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan seemed to smoothly sidestep mentioning who you were in relation to him. “You don’t mind if she hangs out during my appointment, right? One guest?”

“Not at all.” The artist then picked up a tablet from the counter. “Let me show you what I’ve got drawn up, hm?”

You peered around Sungchan curiously as they went over the design. It was a black and grey circle of flowers, leaves, thorns, and branches all interwoven together. A few birds hovered along the outside of it. In the corner of the canvas that the sketch was on, you could see the reference photos that Johnny had used, of an old porcelain plate that looked like it belonged in your grandmother’s china cabinet, not on a punk drummer's skin.

“It’s great, man. You nailed it,” Sungchan gave his approval.

“And for placement, you said your back, right?”

“Yeah, I was thinking left shoulder blade?” He shook off his jacket, grabbed the collar of his tank top and took it off in one go. Both him and Johnny moved around so Sungchan could see his own back in the full-length mirror propped up on a nearby wall.

“If you fill up the rest of your back in the future, you’ll have an odd hole in the middle of that shoulder from the center of this tattoo,” Johnny pointed out, tracing where the gap would be on Sungchan’s otherwise bare skin with his tablet stylus. “Unless you were to add something in the middle of this design later on. Depending on the size we do now, that might be difficult.”

“That’s a couple options. What else you think? Upper middle?”

“Yeah, centering it will look good, whether or not you fill the rest of your back, and even if you leave the middle of the ring empty,” Johnny agreed.

“Center it is then.”

“How big are you thinking?” Johnny held his hands up parallel to each other at the top of Sungchan’s spine. “This? A little bigger? I wouldn’t go any smaller or you’ll lose detail.”

“Bigger.”

Johnny moved his bottom hand down. “Hm?”

“Yeah, about that much?”

“I’ll print a couple sizes and we’ll see how it looks.”

As Johnny sat back at the desk to print out the stencils, you walked over to Sungchan, keeping your eyes on his face.

“Whose plate is that?” You asked curiously.

“How do you know I didn’t just find it on the internet and like the design?” He tilted his head.

“The cottagecore vibes really don’t match the rest of your work.”

He looked down at his own forearms and laughed. “Okay, fair. It’s my grandmother’s.”

“Hm.” You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the idea.

Johnny returned then with a couple different stencil sizes, and he and Sungchan went back to the mirror. After determining the size of the design, the area was prepped, and the stencil applied. You watched with interest as the design was transferred from the paper to Sungchan’s skin in purple ink.

“Go check that in the mirror,” Johnny instructed.

Sungchan stood back up from where he had laid down for the application, using a second mirror in his hand to look at it closer. He motioned with his head for you to join him. “What do you think? Is it centered?”

You got up from the stool that you had been given to walk over to the mirror as well, standing behind Sungchan to evaluate the placement of the stencil. “Stand up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, you know you slouch?”

Johnny snickered from his seat.

Squinting one eye closed, then the other, you finally gave a short nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“That’s the best you can hope for with her, Johnny,” Sungchan joked, returning to the padded table to lay down. “‘Fine.’”

You rolled your eyes, but took your seat on the side opposite from the tattoo artist anyway.

“High praise. Let’s do it,” Johnny grinned.

As Johnny got to work, you watched the first few strokes of his tattoo gun with interest, as the ink was deposited into Sungchan’s skin.

“You have any tattoos, Y/N?” Johnny asked, not looking up from his work.

“No,” you replied. Looking at Sungchan’s face next, which was mostly concealed by his arms and the pillow, he didn’t have any outward expression of pain. “Does it… hurt?”

The both of them chuckled, and you tried not to feel patronized, then Sungchan answered, “You ever been scratched by a cat?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s like that, but worse, and continuously.”

“Doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“It’s worse if you’re by bone,” Johnny added. “Or other sensitive areas.”

“Again, doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“An hour or so of unpleasantness in exchange for a lifetime of a cool tattoo,” Sungchan said in a tone of voice that made you think he would’ve shrugged if it weren’t for the tattoo gun currently on his upper back. “Easy trade-off if you ask me.”

“So how did you two meet?” Johnny’s voice didn’t carry any judgment, if anything he almost sounded amused.

“She came by the bookshop,” Sungchan answered simply. “You know, one of my day jobs.”

“Now that makes sense. No offense, Y/N, but you seem much more like a bookstore and coffee shops kind of girl than a basement mosh pit regular.”

You nodded slowly. “None taken… What you see is what you get with me.”

“Oh, she’s been trying new things,” Sungchan chuckled. “She’s been to a show.”

“And? What’d you think?” Johnny looked up at you eagerly.

You were a bit caught off-guard. Sungchan hadn’t even asked you if you liked his band’s performance. He’d commented on the fact that you’d showed up, who you were with, and that you left without seeing the other bands perform. But he never asked if you liked it.

“It was different for me,” you admitted. “Good different. I had fun.”

“Yeah, they’ve got a lot of heart, don’t they?” You could see the tug of Johnny’s smile at the corner of his mouth.

At the end of the appointment, Sungchan had one new tattoo and you were hungry. After paying Johnny and giving the artist your goodbyes, the two of you stepped back out onto the sidewalk in front of the tattoo parlor. It was dark out already, and you looked up at the moon, just past the streetlamp shining down on you.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Sungchan declared. “Dinner?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “But, I pick. I’ve already done my one new thing for today, and I’m craving fries.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

The place you had in mind was only a few blocks away from Johnny’s tattoo shop. As soon as you walked in, however, you wanted to turn back around. But you were craving fries and had already been spotted. Jeno perked up curiously from behind the counter, giving you a friendly wave. Honestly, you should’ve considered this as a possibility when you brought Sungchan into his place of work. You smiled back as you stepped up to the register.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you brightly, clearly interested in who you had with you, but not outright asking as his gaze strayed over to Sungchan.

“Hey, Jeno,” you said. “I didn’t realize you were working tonight.”

“Coworker got sick, I picked up a shift,” he explained. “So what can I get you? Your usual?”

“Just the fries and milkshake.” You then pointed to Sungchan with your thumb. “And whatever he wants. I’m paying.”

“Y/N—” Sungchan was clearly about to argue.

“You got it last time. Kind of.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “And they take card here. So order.”

He held his hands up. “Alright, alright.”

Picking a table in the corner as far from the cash register as you could get, you waited for Jeno to call your order number out as usual. Except this time he brought the food right out to your table on a tray. You eyed him suspiciously as he walked over.

“Here’s your food,” he smiled brightly at the both of you, taking the food off the tray to set the individual items in front of you.

“Right, thanks, Jeno,” you said. When he was still standing there after he was done, you looked at him more pointedly, “I’m not tipping you again if that’s what you’re waiting for. Goodbye, Jeno.”

“Enjoy your meal!” He took off back behind the counter.

Sungchan watched him for a moment before turning back to his food. “He was at the show.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“Your sturdy friend.”

“Yup.” You grabbed your first fry.

“The show, that reminds me—” Sungchan stopped in the middle of his sentence, sandwich halfway up to his mouth. “Uh, I think your friend just took a picture of us.”

Your phone buzzed then, and you checked the notification from your lockscreen, letting out a deep sigh. “He definitely did.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️]

“Hold on, sorry,” you apologized as you unlocked your phone to properly open the message.

As soon as you started typing a scathing text about privacy, another text came through.

[jeno: FUCK WRONG GROUP CHAT]

[you: wtf do you assholes have a gc without me in it??]

You looked over at the register, shooting Jeno a glare as he was very obviously trying not to look at you. His entire face, ears, and neck were visibly pink from the other side of the restaurant.

[jeno: it was to plan your surprise party last year!]

[jaem: Y/N ON A DATE CONFIRMED???????]

[renjunnie: jeno you’re an idiot]

[hyuck: wait jeno take another picture of his face im trying to see smth]

A large group of teenagers entered then, and Jeno had to quickly put his phone away to take their orders.

Sungchan had been quietly eating his food the whole time, and raised an eyebrow as you put your phone down with a groan. “Everything alright?”

“Sorry about that…” You let out another sigh. “So what you were saying? The show?”

“Oh, I’m glad you liked the set.” He looked almost self-conscious as he spoke, a small smile on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “You hadn’t said anything about whether or not you actually liked the show, so I figured it might not have been your thing, you know? Or, you at least told Johnny you liked it…”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Didn’t want to seem like I was fishing for compliments.”

“I had fun,” you assured him, grabbing another fry. “I’m still surprised you could even see me. It was packed in there.”

“You were easy to spot,” he teased.

“You didn’t exactly give me a dress code.”

“If I did, would you have been able to dress for it?”

You pursed your lips as you thought for a moment, then relented, “…No.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered you the garment. “Here, so you’ll blend in better next time.”

You accepted it, already giddy at the idea of a ‘next time.’ “Then how will you spot me?”

“I think I’ll manage.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: no need to see his face, hyuck. its definitely the drummer from the basement]

[hyuck: fuckin knew it]

[jaem: are we SURE those are the same tattoos?? maybe y/n knows another guy with sleeves???]

[renjunnie: still the same gc, dumbasses]

[you: jeno don’t be a weirdo challenge FAILED]

[jeno: definitely the same guy, jaemin]

[you: im gonna get you fired lee jeno]

[jeno: my rent :( ]

[hyuck: y/n out here trying to SILENCE independent investigative journalists and whistleblowers i see 🫵]

[you: OR i was trying to eat in peace and meanwhile you guys are having your weekly ‘being the most obnoxious guy ever’ competition and somehow jeno is winning this time]

[jeno: :(( ]

[jaem: you were on a DATE with drummer guy and didnt tell us???]

[you: omfg because it wasn’t a date? im allowed to hang out with people who aren’t you four]

[jaem: no youre not?]

[hyuck: since when?]

[renjunnie: and since when do you know people who aren’t us lmao]

[you: im gonna block all of you]

[jeno: :'( ]

Thursday night and you were back in the basement. This time you didn’t bring any of your friends, not wanting to subject them to an experience that they clearly hadn’t enjoyed last time, and also to save yourself from having to explain why exactly you were back in the basement again and wearing Sungchan’s leather jacket. Due to the oppressive body heat around you, you just had it draped over your shoulders, but made sure to grab either side and hold it tight to not lose it as you maneuvered through the crowd. You unfortunately barely had time to run home and grab the jacket on your way here, as your boss kept your whole team late after hours today working on an urgent deadline. You were still wearing your work clothes; you didn’t trust yourself to change quickly without freaking out over what to wear and ending up missing Sungchan’s short set.

Just as you had wormed your way into a good enough spot towards the front and near the drumset, the band walked out from the adjoining room, waving to everyone. It was easy to spot Sungchan, not only because he was the tallest, but because he wasn’t even wearing a shirt this time, as opposed to the others, who were all wearing a tank top or t-shirt of some sort. His gaze was very clearly searching the crowd for something, and stopped as soon as it landed on you. You gave him a small wave, and he smiled back as he headed to his spot.

You weren’t sure if they had set up the speakers differently this time, if your ears were just used to the volume now, or if you were positioned better than before, but you could actually understand what the frontman was saying as he introduced the band.

“Hey! How is everyone?” His voice was cheerful, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the crowd cheered back. “First, uh, big thanks as always to our buddy Anton for having us. Second, if you don’t know us, that’s fine, nobody does.”

Everyone let out a unanimous round of chuckles, and the frontman was smiling too.

“Anyway, we are Roses for Eyes. I’m Shotaro, that’s Wonbin—” He pointed to the other guitarist, then the bassist, “—That’s Eunseok over there—” and finally Sungchan, “—And we’ve got Sungchan on the drums. And we’re supposed to be performing for you guys, not reading you our non-existent Wikipedia page. Here’s the first one, ‘Lonely as Mars,’ hope you all like it.”

From the first kick of the bass drum, you couldn’t take your eyes off Sungchan. The music reverberated through your chest, and this time you could hear their voices, and the words they were singing. They were good, you decided, and you liked it. But your focus never left the drummer. He had the same relaxed, easy-going smirk on his face as the last time he played, arms flexing with each hit of his sticks.

The set simultaneously felt like ten years and ten seconds. It was a blur, and before you knew it, Shotaro was once again speaking into the mic to give the crowd another thank you and goodnight. He, Eunseok, and Wonbin took their instruments with them. Sungchan tucked his drumsticks into the back pocket of his jeans as he stood up and followed his bandmates. With no friends urging you to leave, and what certainly seemed like an infinitely long list of reasons to stick around, you stayed put exactly where you were. Exactly where Sungchan knew you were.

The next band had just come out when you felt a hand grab your arm. Turning around, you knew who exactly that hand would belong to. Sungchan had found a shirt somewhere between performing and now, a tank top that didn’t cover much more than before. And despite him having just been performing a few moments ago, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice him, all their focus on the next act.

“You did good!” You had to shout over the music of the band currently performing.

He bent down to talk right into your ear. “It’s loud over here.”

You let him guide you to a corner further back from the crowd with an arm around your shoulders. There were a few other people back there, either smoking, making out, or both. You rested your back against the wall, looking up at Sungchan, who leaned over you with his hand on the wall next to your head. You opened your mouth, about to repeat what you had said out on the floor.

“Fuck, you look so hot in my jacket,” Sungchan groaned, sufficiently wiping all previous trains of thought from your brain. His fingers messed with the zipper teeth of one side, eyes scanning your whole frame.

“I feel a bit silly wearing it with the pantsuit, but I got hung up at work and didn’t want to be late…” You trailed off, noticing that his gaze was definitely now on your mouth. Tilting your head, you asked teasingly, “Sungchan, are you flirting with me?”

“Have been for like three weeks now, thanks for noticing.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t count this as my something new. I’ve been to one of your sets before, at this exact basement,” you sighed wistfully, latching onto his free arm and pulling him even closer to you.

“Mm, good point.” His hand grabbed your waist. “I think we can come up with something to do tonight that you haven’t done before.”

“I think I’ve got one.”

“Oh, here I thought I was the ideas guy?”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth down to yours. Sungchan let out another low sound against your lips, grip on your waist tightening as he pushed you back into the wall as hard as you were pulling him down with you. He dropped from leaning on his hand to his forearm, caging you in closer. Your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair was shamelessly feeling up the muscles of his arm and shoulder. When he softly sank his teeth into your bottom lip, you couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his tricep in surprise, pushing your hips up against his insistently.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you panted against his mouth when he pulled back for a brief moment of air, his thigh now wedged between yours.

“God, you’re so—” He pressed his lips to yours again, hand at the small of your back to pull you as close to him as possible. If you thought you were warm before packed in the crowd, you were in a stifling heat now, pinned between Sungchan’s body and the wall. He broke the kiss, asking between deep breaths, “Can—Can I take you home?”

“What about the other bands?” You giggled, lips ghosting over his as you spoke.

“Fuck the other bands,” he replied immediately. “As soon I saw you out in the crowd wearing my jacket, could barely focus on the set because you looked so good.”

“Yes, Sungchan.” You kissed him again. “You can take me home.”

As soon as Sungchan’s front door was shut, he had you pressed up against it again. You pulled at his flimsy tank top as his tongue slipped past your lips. Finally, he gave in to your persistent hands and let you pull it off him.

“Honestly, don’t even know why you bother with shirts at this point,” you scoffed, throwing it off towards the side somewhere.

“With how much I’ve spent on tattoos? I agree,” he chuckled, cupping your cheek to pull your mouth to his again.

Still attached to each other, you’d only succeeded at getting Sungchan’s belt unbuckled by the time you made it to his bedroom. Before you could unbutton his pants, however, he stepped back from you, familiar teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well this isn’t very fair, don’t you think?” He gestured between his half-dressed state and your fully dressed self.

“I thought you liked me in your jacket?” You taunted, wrapping the garment tighter around yourself.

“Which is why you’ve got to let me take it off you.” He put his hands together in a pleading motion. “And the pantsuit…”

“Mm, alright.” You dropped your hands from the jacket.

He circled behind you, hovering close to remove his leather jacket from your shoulders, pressing kisses to your neck as he did so. With him no longer blocking the rest of his bedroom from your view, you couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the presence of one thing.

“You know, I was mentally prepared for you to not have a bedframe,” you commented as he took off your blazer next.

“You got mattress-on-the-ground vibes from me and still came home with me?” Sungchan asked incredulously, letting out a breathy laugh. His deft fingers started unbuttoning your blouse next. “I think I’m flattered? And you’ve got to raise your standards.”

You turned around to face him, feeling the smirk on your face as you replied, “Let’s see how high we can raise those standards, hm?”

“Is that a challenge or what?” Sungchan laughed again, wasting no time in attaching his lips and teeth to your neck, dropping your blouse off your shoulders and to the floor.

When the garish blaring of your work alarm came, you reached over to the right to blindly grab your phone off your nightstand. Instead, your hand hit what felt like someone’s face, and you jolted up in bed as they did as well, already swearing.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Sungchan was holding his eye. “What the hell was that for? That’s not my alarm.”

Blinking a couple times to orient yourself first, you then jerked over to grab your phone off the floor on your left side. Sungchan may have had a bedframe, but he did only have one nightstand. You quickly turned off your alarm and fell back onto the mattress. You weren’t going to be able to go back to sleep, having been sufficiently scared awake, but you needed a second to catch your breath.

“Work alarm…” You explained belatedly, in case that wasn’t apparent.

Sungchan made a grunt of acknowledgement, dropping his hand from his face as he laid back down as well. He rolled over towards you, slinging an arm around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You stared up at his ceiling, feeling his warm breaths washing over the skin of your arm.

“Mars isn’t lonely,” you blurted out into his still-dark room.

“What?” He mumbled into your shoulder.

“It’s got two moons.”

Sungchan shifted around, propping his head up with his other hand to be able to talk. “Yes… Phobos and Deimos. Named for the Greek gods of fear and dread, respectively.”

“So to be lonely as Mars… with fear and dread as your only companions.”

“That was the idea, when we wrote it.” He brushed hair back from your face. “Don’t tell me the title of one of our songs kept you up all night.”

“No, was just kind of in the back of my mind.” You felt a sudden prickling along your skin as his hand fell to your arm, fingers playing with the sleeve hem of the t-shirt you were wearing—his. Sitting up out of his grasp, you pushed the covers off of you. “I have to get ready for work.”

Sungchan wordlessly watched you gather up your clothes from the floor and get dressed. When you went into the adjoining bathroom to check the tuck of your shirt into your pants and make other adjustments, he followed, leaning in the doorway with a troubled look on his face.

“Am I just something new, Y/N?” He asked bluntly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Am I just entertainment?” You immediately fired back, trying to smooth out a wrinkle that your blouse had acquired from sitting crumpled on the floor all night.

“What? Why would you think that?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“‘I don’t care. I just want to be along for the ride.’” You paraphrased what he said when he agreed to help you with your plan. “Am I just entertainment?”

His features softened. “No, you’re not entertainment.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shoulders falling as they lost the tension they’d just held. “No, Sungchan, you’re not just something new.”

He walked over to you with a wide grin on his face, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss too, giving him one more peck before turning back to fixing your attire in the mirror. There was nothing you could do right now about the wrinkles, but you could at least attempt something with your hair.

Sungchan stepped behind you, resting his hands on your hips and pulling you back into him. He placed a few lazy kisses along your neck, murmuring, “I think the pantsuit is growing on me, actually.”

“Then why are you trying to take it off me?” You questioned, grabbing his hand that had been reaching for your blouse buttons again.

“Because I like what’s under it better.”

“Nice try. I have work.” You spun out of his arms, heading for his bedroom door.

Two steps into the hall, you knew something was wrong. There were other voices in Sungchan’s apartment, which stopped when they saw you. As soon as your eyes registered the three men in the living room, you skittered backwards back into Sungchan’s room again.

Practically slamming his door closed behind you, you didn’t let him get whatever surprised statement he had out of his mouth, as you hissed, “Sungchan! Why is your whole fucking band out there?”

“Probably because your work alarm woke them up too,” he laughed, which turned into a yawn as he stretched his arms over his head. “They’re not really early birds…”

“Why are they here?”

“They live here?”

In your rush to get into Sungchan’s bedroom last night, you had somehow missed any signs of three other people living here. You didn’t even hear them come home last night, and you weren’t exactly… quiet yourself. Definitely not three roommates quiet.

“Oh my god…” You sunk down against the door, shaking your head. “I’m just going to stay in here and die, I think.”

“I thought you had work?” Sungchan pointed out smugly.

“Ugh…” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Y/N, they’ve already seen you. Here, I’ll walk you out. Will that help?” He offered, pulling on a shirt and his leather jacket.

“Fine, I’m gonna be late if I stay any longer.”

He held a hand out to you, and you placed yours in it for him to pull you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

The chatter that had started up again in your absence died down as soon as the bedroom door opened. Sure enough, the other three members of Roses for Eyes were sprawled out across the living room exactly where you’d left them. Shotaro was sideways in an armchair, Switch in hand as his thumbs moved over the controls quickly. Eunseok was sleepily eating a bowl of cereal on the couch, while Wonbin didn’t actually look awake, slumped against Eunseok’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

“Morning, guys,” Sungchan nodded to them as you walked by, still ushering you to the door.

Eunseok wordlessly held his hand out palm-up towards the armchair, and you saw Shotaro smack a few bills down into it.

At the front door, you were just ready to leave. Patting Sungchan’s arm, you gave him a nod and hushed, “Bye.”

Turning to grab the door handle, you heard Sungchan’s voice, nowhere near the whisper yours was.

“Baby, you almost forgot—” Sungchan stopped you, grabbing your hand and spinning you back around.

The sudden pet name made your skin burn. “What is it, Sungchan? My phone?” You started patting your pockets.

He took off the leather jacket that he just put on, putting it squarely on your shoulders. “Oh, and—” He cradled your face with two hands, kissing you.

It was short, sweet, and made your knees feel like jelly. When he’d pulled away, still holding your face, you whispered in the small space between you, “I’m going to be late.”

“Have a good day at work.” He smiled, letting you go and opening the door for you.

With a sigh, Eunseok gave the money back to Shotaro.

You weren’t late that morning, thankfully, but your mind was still in the stratosphere as you bustled around the breakroom making yourself coffee. You’d left Sungchan’s jacket hanging off the back of your chair; it wasn’t exactly in dress code for your office.

“Morning, Y/N,” Renjun said through a yawn, shuffling into the breakroom as well. He paused as he seemed to be taking in your clothes. “Am I crazy or did you wear that yesterday?”

“The only thing worse than an outfit repeater is an outfit remember-er,” you jested back.

“No, I mean like…” He got closer, rubbing his eyes as he peered at your blouse. “You didn’t wash them. They’re all wrinkled and—You got laid.”

“Or I need to do laundry.”

He pointed to your neck. “Hickey.”

“Damn, you caught me breaking my undying vow of chastity—oh wait,” you retorted sarcastically.

He held his hands up. “Hey, no slut-shaming here. Love that for you. One question?”

“What?”

“Was it drummer guy?”

You looked around the breakroom as you stirred sugar into your coffee. “…Yes.”

Renjun chuckled and grabbed a coffee mug. “Something new every day…”

“Why can’t you just get the food delivered?” You complained, pulling Sungchan’s blankets tighter around you as the bed grew cold without him in there with you.

He hopped on one foot as he pulled a shoe on. “Because the delivery charge is as much as the food is, baby. And it’s just around the block.”

You huffed dramatically, watching him start searching the sheets for his phone. He secured it in his hand victoriously, tucking it in his back pocket.

“You could come with me, you know,” he pointed out, mischievous hands already reaching for the covers and pulling them down, revealing your bare legs to the cold air conditioning. “But you’d have to put pants on.”

You yanked the blankets back over you. “I’ll wait.”

He snickered, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Be back in a few.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, kissing him again.

He dropped one more peck to your forehead before standing up straight and heading out, shutting his door behind him. You snuggled back under the covers, pulling the blanket up over your shoulders as you tried to enjoy the fleeting warmth left over as you scrolled on your phone. Sungchan had only been gone for a few minutes when you heard the front door open again. You perked up with interest. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be back soon. Then there were a couple light knocks on the bedroom door. Not Sungchan. One of his bandmates must have come home.

You scrambled to throw the sheets off you and grab a pair of your shorts from Sungchan’s floor, putting your legs through them as you stumbled towards the door. Opening it just enough to peer out, you saw Wonbin on the other side, a plastic grocery bag in his hand. He didn’t seem surprised to see you at all.

“…Hi?” You greeted him hesitantly. You had been seeing Sungchan for a couple weeks now, and had caught glimpses of his roommates around his apartment, but had yet to say much more than the occasional ‘morning’ or ‘night’ or ‘hey’ in passing.

Wonbin held up the plastic bag. “Can you help me dye my hair?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You looked down at what you were wearing, one of Sungchan’s black t-shirts. “What color? Should I change? Like, is it bleach?”

“Black. That’s fine.” He turned around, walking back down the hall.

You followed him as he opened another one of the doors, this one leading to a bathroom. As he prepped the dye, you read the pamphlet of instructions carefully.

“I’ll do the mixing,” he interrupted your deep focus. “I just can’t see the back of my head.”

“Oh. Okay.” You set the directions down on the counter next to the bottles. “I’ve never done this before… Don’t want to ruin your hair.”

He shrugged, handing you a pair of gloves. “If you miss a spot, we’ll just do it again.”

After Wonbin mixed up the dye, he sat on the edge of the tub for you to stand over him and start applying it to his hair. As you worked the dark dye into his blonde hair, you watched his soft waves straighten out.

“I liked the blonde curls,” you commented, moving onto the next section.

“Me too.” He flicked through his music library on his phone. “Time for something new, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you smiled to yourself, adding more dye.

“What music do you like?”

“Oh, put on whatever you want. I’m trying to broaden my horizons.”

He wordlessly selected a song, a soft guitar melody coming through the speakers. It was so different from the music that you’d heard them perform, your hands slowed as you listened thoughtfully.

“Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?” Wonbin’s question caught you off-guard.

“What?” You parted his hair, double-checking that you had gotten every bit of blonde in that section.

“You’re broadening your horizons.” He picked at his nail polish that was already chipped. “Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?”

“Something like that.” Satisfied that you had fully saturated that area, you went to the next one. “I also just like him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? Because we’re so different?”

“No, because he’s lame.”

You laughed right as you had started squeezing more dye out, missing his head as the liquid dripped right down the back of his neck instead. Wonbin hissed in surprise, shoulders jumping.

“Oh! Sorry!” You were still laughing as you grabbed the end of the towel that was around his shoulders, wiping at the stray hair dye.

Shotaro came home soon after that, joining the two of you in the bathroom, hopping up on the bathroom counter to watch you apply the hair dye. He showed off his new nose ring that he just got, and tsked when he saw Wonbin’s chipped nail polish.

“We’re gonna have to redo that, Wonbin,” the frontman shook his head. “After Y/N’s done with your hair.”

“Once it’s applied, it’s got to sit for thirty minutes,” you recalled the instructions. “Will that be long enough?”

“Plenty.”

You were a little more than halfway done with Wonbin’s hair when Sungchan finally got back.

“Wonbin? Taro? You guys here?” He called out into the apartment. “Y/N’s here too by the—”

He’d poked his head into the bathroom then, brown paper bag of food in hand. You gave him a wave with your hair dye-covered, gloved hand.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled. “That was more than a few minutes.”

“Clearly,” he gestured to the scene in front of him. “I leave you for like twelve minutes and my bandmates adopt you.”

“We can eat once I finish applying Wonbin’s hair dye.”

“Sure.”

“What’d you get?” Shotaro leaned over towards the bag with interest.

“Only four extra crab rangoons. Fight over them however you want.” Sungchan pulled out a smaller bag from within the takeout bag.

Wonbin and Shotaro locked eyes.

“None for Eunseok?” Shotaro proposed.

Wonbin nodded minutely, as much as he could with some of his hair still in your hands. The front door slammed closed then, and they both groaned.

“I smell chemicals!” Eunseok yelled out. “What is it this time, Wonbin? Purple? Red? Both?”

The bassist appeared in the doorway behind Sungchan, peeking over his shoulder at everyone. “Oh hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Eunseok.” You nodded to him, applying more dye.

“Shotaro, are those crab rangoons you’re hiding behind your back?”

A random Sunday afternoon found you at Sungchan’s apartment, as you seemed to be most days now. If you weren’t at work, at one of his gigs, or with your own friends, it was a safe bet that you could be found there.

He opened the door for you, pecking your cheek in greeting, “Hi, baby.”

“I know what we’re doing today,” you blurted out, before you could lose your nerve. “My something new.”

He tilted his head curiously. “And? What is it?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m going to get my ears pierced. Second lobe piercings, I already have the first done. I’ve been wanting to do it for like forever, but I just… haven’t. It’s allowed at my work, I checked the employee handbook, and asked someone from HR on Friday to be extra sure.”

Sungchan beamed at you. “Hell yeah. We can use Shotaro’s piercer, unless you’ve already looked someone up?”

“Whoever Shotaro goes to will be fine.”

Wonbin was taking a nap on the couch in the afternoon sunlight, and you walked past him to get to the hall where Shotaro and Eunseok’s rooms were. Shotaro’s door was ajar already, and Sungchan pushed it open the rest of the way. The frontman was laid out on his bed upside down, his feet kicked up on the wall as he lazily plucked out a melody on an acoustic guitar. Eunseok was in there too, scrawling away at a notebook at the guitarist’s desk.

“Who do you go to for your piercings?” Sungchan didn’t give either of them so much as a hello.

Shotaro craned his neck to look over at the two of you. “Huh? Oh, uh, Sid, at Black Cat in downtown. Why? What are you getting?”

“Not for me,” Sungchan informed him happily, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Eunseok’s head snapped up from where he had been focused on his notebook, and Shotaro set his instrument aside to roll over and fully face you.

“Y/N?!” Shotaro’s jaw dropped in delight. “What are you getting?”

“Ah, just my second lobes…” you muttered self-consciously, hands instinctively feeling at the jewelry that you already had in your existing piercings. You pushed further into Sungchan’s side to hide your face from them, especially when the bassist muttered a ‘woah’ at this revelation.

“Sid taking walk-ins today?” Sungchan asked.

“She should be. You know what? I’ll call her right now.” Shotaro eagerly brought out his phone.

After he confirmed that Sid was, in fact, taking walk-ins, Sungchan went to get changed as Eunseok and Shotaro put shoes on as well, ushering you towards the front door. All the commotion woke Wonbin up, as he sleepily lifted his head up and rubbed one of his eyes, watching the four of you.

“Where are you guys going?” Wonbin squinted against the sun.

“Y/N’s getting pierced!” Shotaro announced brightly.

“I’m coming.”

At Black Cat, which you learned was a tattoo and piercing shop, you met with Sid, a young woman who was no older than you, and told her what you wanted. She nodded, looking at your ears for just a second.

“Easy. How old were you when you got the first ones done?” She asked, pulling out a tray of jewelry from under the counter she was standing behind.

“Thirteen maybe? I know it was done with one of those piercing guns…” You admitted sheepishly.

“We don’t use those here.” She shook her head. “Injures the tissue too much. I’ll be using a needle, should take like half a second on each side. I’ll explain everything back at the station where I can show you all the tools.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll give you a minute to pick your jewelry while I prep the station.” With that, she walked towards the back of the shop.

Everyone huddled around while you browsed through the options, seeming to have their own input. You finally settled on a pair of studs with small diamonds in them, not too outlandish; you’d be able to easily match them with the rest of your jewelry and any outfits you wore to work easily while the piercings healed.

“You nervous?” Sungchan murmured, rubbing your back as Shotaro and Wonbin wandered over towards the other end of the clear case of jewelry, looking at industrial piercings. Eunseok flipped through a book of flash tattoo options.

You shook your head. “No. Excited.”

“So you’re not gonna need to hold my hand?”

“I didn’t say that…”

As Sid walked back over, the others crowded around you excitedly again.

“Do you all really need to be here? It’s not that big of a deal…” You muttered, a bit embarrassed at how hyped they were over you just getting a couple ear piercings.

“I’m with Y/N on this one. Only you can come back.” She pointed at Sungchan. “The rest of you will have to wait up front.”

Sitting on the padded chair at Sid’s station, she walked you through each step and the tools she’d be using first, then marked where the piercings would go on your ears.

“Check the placement.” She handed you a handheld mirror.

You appraised them, then looked up at Sungchan. “What do you think? Even?”

“Sit up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, did you know you slouch?” He teased, grabbing your shoulders and straightening them out for you.

You glared up at him, but fixed your posture nevertheless.

“They look good, baby,” he approved, squeezing your arm.

Sungchan stood off to your side, holding your hand as Sid got ready on the on the first ear.

“Alright. One, two—” At the pinch, you squeezed Sungchan’s hand tighter, face screwing up in surprise.

She moved to the other side. “Next. One, two—” Pinch. “All done.”

“Wooh!” The other three cheered from up front, pumping their fists and jumping up and down.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N!” Eunseok yelled out.

“Baby’s first body mod!” Shotaro pretended to wipe a tear from under his eye. “They grow up so fast…”

“So pretty, baby,” Sungchan kissed your cheek, a wide grin on his face when he pulled back. He wiped at the single actual tear that had spilled over from your own eye. “So proud of you.”

Your face hurt from how much you were smiling, more than your ears did.

“Y/N!” Jaemin stood up from the table as soon as he saw you, pulling you in for a hug. The two of you were meeting up on your respective lunch breaks at a café equidistant from your workplaces.

“Hi Jaem—Ow!” You hissed as his head bumped into your ear.

“What? What’s wrong?” He pulled back, clearly worried.

“It’s nothing, sorry.” You cradled the wounded ear, giving him a reassuring smile. “I finally got my second lobes done the other day and they’re still tender.”

“Let me see!”

You tucked your hair behind your ears to show off the small diamonds. “Just some studs…”

“Cool. They look good.” He was still smiling as the two of you sat down. “What made you want to do that?”

“I’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“Yeah, I know. What made you finally get them?”

“Something spontaneous or new every day, remember?”

“Well, I’m happy you finally did it. Seems your little quarter life crisis is actually working, huh?”

“Sungchan’s been helping me,” you acknowledged, watching his face carefully.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “The drummer guy?”

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing him...” You sat forward, lacing your hands together in front of you on the table. “Speaking of—Dinner tomorrow, I figured I could bring him? You guys could all meet?”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck, tone turning remorseful. “Damn, Y/N, I wish you’d told me sooner. I already made the reservation for five people.”

“You can’t call back and change it to six?”

“Limited space.”

“There’s not a lot of five-person tables. Wouldn’t they be putting us at one that seats six anyway?”

“If I change it, we’ll be bumped to the bottom of the list again.”

“Oh. That’s alright, another time,” you acquiesced as your waiter came over, handing you menus.

“Another time,” your friend agreed.

You were in the ‘green room’ of Anton’s basement, which was actually the laundry alcove that had a few chairs set up for the acts to sit and wait before they went on. All of Roses for Eyes were back there, chatting as the time for their set to start got closer.

“You know what I’m craving?” Sungchan hummed in your ear.

“What is that?” You turned to look at him out of the corner of your vision from your current position on his lap.

“Fries from that place where your sturdy friend works.”

“He has a name,” you laughed, pinching his forearm. “Do you want to go get some after this? They’re open late.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“After the day I had at work, I’ve earned a milkshake,” you sighed, leaning back against him.

Sungchan wrapped his arms around your waist, and you could hear the frown in his voice as he asked, “What happened, baby?”

“You’re about to go on, I’ll tell you later,” you promised. “Just my boss—”

“Yo! Roses!” Anton poked his head into the room just then. “Two minutes! Let’s go!”

You got up from Sungchan’s lap as the others started grabbing their instruments. “I should go grab a spot.”

“Okay…” He cupped your cheek to bring your mouth to his. “See you in a minute, baby.”

“See you.”

You picked your way through the crowd until you found a group of familiar faces: Anton, and two more regulars and friends of Roses for Eyes, Sohee and Seunghan. When the band still hadn’t come out after a few minutes, you got on your tiptoes to look over the crowd towards the green room.

“Wonder what’s keeping them?” You mused, dropping back onto flat feet again.

“Oh, Jay and Hayoung popped in there right after you left,” Anton explained. “Said they wanted to talk to them.”

“I thought they already left,” Seunghan commented.

“No, their tour starts in a couple weeks, I think,” Sohee explained. “Or at least, the tickets I have aren’t until next month.”

“Is that for the Venue:Hell show?”

“Yeah, are you going?”

“Waiting to get paid then I’ll buy my ticket.”

“Anton and I have an extra,” Sohee offered. “He was going to bring that girl he was seeing, but we all know how that worked out.”

“No need to rub it in my face,” Anton grumbled as the other two simultaneously snickered and tried to comfort him. He then turned to you. “Where’d Sungchan find you, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I got lost and asked him for directions at the bookstore he works at,” you answered, knowing that wasn’t going to help your friend very much.

“You’re useless to me.”

You laughed and patted his back. “I’m sorry, Anton. Maybe instead of trying to find someone the same way Sungchan and I met, you should just try meeting different people. Sungchan could tell that I wasn’t into this kind of stuff at all when we met, and still tried anyway.”

“Alright, got any pantsuit-wearing friends you can set me up with?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

It was then that Roses for Eyes finally started walking out, Sungchan at the front. They seemed to be even more energetic than usual during their set, and you could feel it radiate out through the whole room. You couldn’t stop jumping, dancing, and singing along to the songs that you had finally learned the lyrics to.

When they were done, Shotaro gave their usual thank-you and goodbye before leaving. By the time the next act was starting their first song, Roses for Eyes had joined the rest of you in the crowd.

“You guys did so good!” You praised them, squeezing Shotaro’s forearm as you wrapped your other arm around Sungchan’s waist. “Like, I think that was like the best set I’ve ever seen!”

“Thanks, baby,” Sungchan laughed breathlessly, kissing your temple and pulling you even closer with an arm around your shoulders. “You looked like you were having a good time.”

“She’s right, you guys had a lot of energy up there,” Seunghan complimented them as well.

“What did Hayoung and Jay want, by the way?” Anton asked. “They kept you guys for a while.”

The band exchanged uncertain looks, Eunseok, Wonbin, and Shotaro looking to Sungchan as if waiting for his cue.

He shrugged and squeezed your shoulder. “Just dropping by before they go on tour, you know?”

The rest of Roses for Eyes declined accompanying you and Sungchan for your midnight snack, so it was just the two of you squished into the same side of a booth, Sungchan taking sips from your milkshake as you stole fries from his plate.

“Tell me about work,” he prompted you, nudging your leg with his.

“Oh, God, it was just… long,” you groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Felt like it would never end. My boss put off starting his part of this project until literally the day before our deadline to send it to the VP, which meant I had to rush to finalize everything. Meanwhile, he was breathing down my neck the whole time about the deadline! Like! Dude, I fucking know! We wouldn’t be cutting it so close if he had done his part earlier!”

“That’s really inconsiderate.” Sungchan frowned, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, baby, that sounds really stressful.”

“But we got it submitted, so that’s all that matters, I guess,” you sighed. “You were right, Sungchan. I hate my job.”

His hand stilled on your back, just resting there as you sat in the wake of your admission.

“You remember my friends from the food truck?” He asked, abruptly changing topics.

“Yeah, Jay and Hayoung.”

“Well, we actually got an offer to open for their band on tour,” he told you, voice pitching up with excitement. That must’ve been what they were discussing before their set tonight. “It’ll be for a couple months.”

“Oh… congrats. I know this is big for you guys. Have fun.” You smiled, trying to hide the sudden emptiness inside you as you tried to imagine what your days would look like without Sungchan or the rest of his bandmates for two whole months. “When do you leave?”

“Next Saturday. Their original opener dropped out, it was last-minute.”

“Oh. I’ll see you when you get back, then.” You then paused, your mind suddenly changing directions and racing with other thoughts of why he might want to be telling you this. He was a drummer in a band going on their first tour, maybe he’d want the full rockstar experience. “Unless this was something else…”

His eyes widened as he shook his head fervently. “I’m not—I mean, I won’t ask you to wait for me if you want to get on with your life while I’m gone, but I would wait for you.”

“Why not?” You furrowed your brow thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Why wouldn’t you ask me to wait for you? You want me to ask you to wait, but you won’t ask me.”

“Because I’m about to ask you for something even bigger than to wait two months for me to come back.” He grabbed your hand, holding it tight.

“What…?”

“Come with me.”

“What?!” You blinked, for a moment unsure that you had even heard him right.

“On tour. Come with me,” he repeated, as sincere, eager, and genuine as he was in everything.

You immediately stammered out, “Sungchan, I’d have to quit my job—”

“And then when we get back, you can find one that you actually like.”

“If I can even get one.”

“This is exactly what you’ve been trying to do, Y/N. Something new every day.” He was sandwiching your hand between both of his now. “Please, just think about it?”

“Alright, what are you moping about?” Renjun asked, pushing an already-opened beer into your hand as he walked by.

The five of you were over at Jeno and Jaemin’s place for a movie, pizza, and beer night, and the first movie hadn’t even been started yet. As usual, you were an open book to your friends.

“Sungchan’s band is going on tour. For two months,” you told them glumly before bringing the bottle to your lips. “They leave Saturday.”

“They have enough fans to do that?” Donghyuck snorted, picking up a slice of pizza.

“They’re opening for another band.”

“Aw, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Y/N,” Jaemin went to comfort you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You tapped a fingernail against the glass bottle in your hands. “He asked me to go with him.”

“Does he think you can just quit your job for two months and come back and your boss will rehire you?” Renjun retorted. “This guy lives another world, sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

“You’re considering it.” Donghyuck pointed at you knowingly. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have brought up that he asked you until after he was long gone.”

You were quiet, looking down at your slice of pizza.

“Are you?” Jeno asked.

“I mean, I’ve been trying to do something different every day—”

“Woahwoahwoah! Seriously?!” Renjun cut you off, waving his hands wildly.

“I have enough in my savings to cover my rent and stuff while I’m gone, plus a few months after I get back while I look for a new job—”

“Holy shit you’re like, serious about this,” Jeno breathed out, blinking in surprise.

Jaemin took over, “When we joked about you having a quarter life crisis, we didn’t mean for you to actually do something like quit your job and go run off to join your punk boyfriend that you barely know on his dirtbag boyband’s tour for months.”

“We kind of figured you seeing this guy was already pushing your limits…” Renjun added.

“Gee, thanks.” You rolled your eyes. “You thought I was—What? Getting it out of my system? Then I’d settle down with a guy who’s as boring as I am?”

“When you phrase it like that—”

“You guys don’t even know Sungchan.” You cut Jaemin off, getting to your feet to face them all as your skin pricked with anger.

“Do you? You’ve been seeing him for like a month.” Jaemin gestured to you pointedly.

“Three. But thanks for proving my point so well,” you snapped. “You haven’t even tried to get to know him! You don’t like his music, fine, I wouldn’t expect you to go back to a show. But you haven’t invited him anywhere and you somehow always have an excuse when I invite you guys to something with him. None of you have even really met him. Not even Jeno from that one time, so don’t try to start that.”

They all seemed to be at a loss for words, looking at each other as if waiting for someone else to say the right thing.

“Y/N, come on…” Jaemin tried again, but trailed off at your furious glare.

“I’m going,” you declared, grabbing your phone from the coffee table. “Unless any of you plan on getting your heads out of your asses in the next five seconds.”

They were quiet again, and you took that as your answer, storming out of the apartment.

“Oh hey.” Eunseok’s face held mild surprise when he opened the door for you. “Sungchan said you weren’t coming over today.”

“Is he here?” You were still agitated from what just happened with your friends.

“In his room.” The bassist stepped back to let you in.

You passed by Wonbin and Shotaro in the living room, a game paused on their TV. They gave you greetings as you walked by, and you tossed a hello back over your shoulder. Sungchan’s door opened before you even got to it, confusion on his features when he saw you there.

“Hey, I thought I heard your voice.” He watched you as you stomped past him into his room. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, baby, but I thought you were hanging out with your friends tonight. What are you doing here?”

“I’m pissed at them.”

“What happened?” He sat down on his bed as you paced angrily in front of him.

“I was trying to tell them about the tour.” You gestured between the two of you. “You know, bouncing ideas off them or whatever. My mind was pretty much made up, I just needed to talk it through. And they couldn’t even be happy for you, or actually listen to me! They just called you a dirtbag and patronized me like a dumb child. Apparently, they’ve just been waiting for me to dump you and settle down with some boring guy that’s better for someone boring like me! They’ve been refusing to meet you, I mean, I can’t believe they think they somehow know anything about if you’re good for me or not.”

Sungchan had been listening patiently while you ranted, and when it seemed like you had come to a stopping point, he asked, “They really said all that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” He repeated knowingly.

You put your hands on your hips. “They called you guys a dirtbag boyband. And said I was ‘pushing my limits’ by seeing you.”

“‘Dirtbag boyband,’” Sungchan repeated with a laugh. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Of course you think it’s funny.”

“That part? Yeah, I do,” he snickered, holding a hand out towards you. When you had reluctantly put yours in it, he pulled you closer, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “The part where they’re being super judgmental and treating you like you can’t make your own decisions? No, I don’t think that’s funny.”

You took a deep breath, already beginning to calm down a little as he continued working soothing circles into your skin.

“You said your mind was made up? Mostly?” Sungchan asked tentatively, eyes focused on your intertwined hands.

“I want to go with you,” you said, watching his head snap up to look at you, his face hopeful. “On the tour. I fucking hate my job and I love you.”

Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he gazed up at you. Then he was yanking you down into his arms, and you let out an embarrassing ‘eep!’ as you threw your arms around his shoulders, trying to find some stability in your sudden change in orientation. He held you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You could feel his smile against your skin.

“I love you too,” he murmured, pulling back to cup your cheek. He was grinning. “I love you.”

Your skin got warmer as you realized exactly what you’d said, but you couldn’t take it back now. You’d said it, you meant it, it was true, and you wanted to say it again.

“I love you.” You repeated, feeling a smile creep across your face.

Sungchan leaned up to kiss you, cradling the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pressed even closer to him.

Your phone started buzzing relentlessly in your back pocket then, and you let out an annoyed groan into Sungchan’s mouth. You broke apart just enough to pull out your phone and look at the screen, fully intending on declining the call. Then you saw the caller ID and paused.

“Who is it?” Sungchan asked, kissing along your jaw.

“Jeno.” You continued staring at the screen.

He drew back. “You should answer it.”

“Sungchan—”

“Just see what he wants. Might be important.”

You sighed, and hit the accept button. “What?”

“You picked up! Great!” Jeno sounded genuinely shocked. “Uhm, will you come back?”

“So you guys can continue belittling my life choices? Pass.”

“No, no, so we can all talk. Actually talk this time.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you sized up your options: staying here with Sungchan, or going back to that unpleasant atmosphere. Seemed like a pretty obvious choice to you.

“Jaemin will apologize,” Jeno added. “He wants to apologize, uh, to you.”

“Why didn’t he call me then?” You asked dryly.

“He didn’t think you’d pick up if he called.”

“I wasn’t going to pick up your call either,” you informed him. “Sungchan said I should hear you out.”

“Oh. You’re with him right now.”

“I’ll come back,” you stated. “But I’m bringing Sungchan.”

You would be feeling awkward right now if you weren’t so pissed off. As soon as Jaemin had opened the door and you saw his face, you just got pissed off all over again. The only thing keeping you here and mostly civil was Sungchan.

“This is Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin,” you blandly pointed out all your friends for Sungchan’s sake.

“Hi, Sungchan, dirtbag boyfriend,” Sungchan introduced himself with a broad smile, making the first move to shake all their hands.

Jaemin looked at you incredulously. “Y/N, you told him—”

“They’re your words, Jaemin. Now eat. them.” You said through gritted teeth, arms crossed over your chest firmly.

“I didn’t call you a dirtbag,” Jaemin tried to explain himself to Sungchan.

“Just his band,” Renjun pointed out helpfully.

“I thought it was funny,” Sungchan told him with a chuckle, stepping back to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N, not so much.”

“Well, she has no sense of humor, as I’m sure you know,” Donghyuck teased.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t introduce you guys for you to all pick on me.”

“I think you’ve got a great sense of humor, baby,” your boyfriend reassured you, squeezing your arm.

“So do you have like, a tour bus or something?” Jaemin asked.

“We’ve got a van,” Sungchan told them proudly. “We won’t be sleeping in it or anything, we’ll get hotels.”

“How many tattoos do you have?” Donghyuck flopped back into his armchair.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jaemin rounded on him.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just curious.”

“I’ve lost count,” Sungchan answered candidly.

“Cool.”

“Y/N mentioned you worked at a bookstore and a tea shop as well,” Jeno said. “Are they cool with you uh, going so suddenly?”

“I’m a part-timer. My bosses at both places knew what I actually wanted to do when I started,” he explained. “If they still have a spot for me when we get back, that’d be nice, but I don’t expect it.”

“So, are you going to be quitting tomorrow, Y/N?” Renjun’s voice held no judgment, just curiosity.

You nodded. “Yeah. I fucking hate that place.”

“Good. I could tell.”

“When do you guys leave? This week?” Jeno asked.

“Saturday,” Sungchan confirmed. “We’ll be popping back over here in a few weeks for a show at Venue:Hell, though.”

“Are there tickets… left?” Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck. “To the show in town?”

“You want to go?” You blurted out, a little dumbfounded.

“Totally, man.” Sungchan was absolutely beaming. “I’ll get you guys some.”

Donghyuck raised his beer to him before tipping it back. “Hell yeah.”

Later that night, tucked under Sungchan’s covers and curled up in his arms, your fingertips traced the lines of his tattoos as you were slowly lulled closer and closer to sleep.

“Thank you, Sungchan,” you said aloud into the darkness.

“Mm? For what, baby?” He questioned sleepily, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“For not giving up on me. Even if you were just tagging along for the ride at the beginning, I would’ve just given up on my stupid little idea to cure my quarter life crisis if I didn’t have someone else doing it with me,” you admitted.

“Thank you for not telling me to fuck off when you had every right to,” he chuckled, tangling his legs with yours. “I love you, baby.”

You turned your head to kiss his hair. “I love you too, Sungchan.”

⏯ sequel

⤷ masterlist

[togglesbloggle]

Why do you think tumblr will die in only a few years?

Answer with jargon: a strong correlation between recent economic shifts and chaotic choices by major tech companies is most easily explained if the 'traditional' social media platforms of 2005-2020 are mostly a zero-interest rate phenomenon.

Longer answer, with less jargon: Even though Musk's takeover is making all the headlines recently, the last year has in fact seen major shakeups at many social media platforms, so Twitter is actually part of a trend. Almost inevitably, these are cases of social media companies trying to find a way to squeeze more money out of their userbase (Reddit), cut costs dramatically (Twitter), or both. This marks a sudden departure from a much more relaxed attitude towards revenue in the Pictures Of Cats industry, where the focus was historically more on expanding the userbase to a global scale and then counting on world domination to sort of <????> and then the company would become profitable eventually.

We joke, correctly, that Tumblr has never been profitable. But the entire structure of ad-supported content curation between human users is deeply suspect as a business model; IIRC Twitter was never profitable either, and Facebook has been juicing its numbers in very shenanigany ways. Discord was actually making money on net last I checked, at least a bit, so they're not all completely in the hole. But even if you take the accounting figures at face value, none of these companies has anything like the amount of money that their cultural prominence would suggest. Instead, they're heavily fueled by investment dollars, money given by super-rich people and institutions in the expectation that fueling the growth of the company now will pay off with interest later.

So what changed?

I'm not an expert here, but I'll do my best to muddle through. The American Federal Reserve has one mandate that dominates all others (sometimes called the 'dual mandate'), and one primary tool that it uses to enforce that mandate. The goal is to maintain low (but nonzero) rates of inflation and unemployment, which in their models are deeply interlinked phenomena. The tool is 'rate hikes', or more specifically, tweaking the mandatory rate of interest that banks charge one another when making loans.

As a particular consequence of this, hiking the rate also means that bonds start paying out much better. When the rate hike goes through, that affects people who let the government borrow their personal cash- that is, people who buy bonds- as well as institutions like banks that lend to one another. A rate hike means that you, personally, can make a little extra money by letting the government borrow it for a while. The federal government of the US is a rock-solid low-risk choice for this kind of moneymaking scheme, so the federal interest rate sort of defines the 'number to beat'; to attract investors, a company has to give those investors money at a better percentage than whatever the feds are offering. Particularly since a company is a lot more likely to go out of business than the state!

To wrap this back around to the Pictures Of Cats industry: the higher the rate hike, the better your company needs to be doing (or the less risky it needs to be as an option) to attract big investment dollars. Very high rates make it very hard to convince people to invest in business activity rather than the government itself, and very low rates put moonshots and big dreams on the table, investment-wise, in a way that wouldn't otherwise be possible. Social media companies were one of these big dreams.

In the great financial crisis of 2008, the Fed took the dramatic step of reducing their rate to zero, trying to juice the economy back to life. And ever since then, they've kept it there. This has produced an unprecedented amount of funding for very crazy stuff; it's part of what has allowed so many weird new tech companies (Uber, streaming services, etc.) to get so much money, so quickly, and use that to grow to massive size without a clear model of how they're ever going to make money. This state of affairs kept going for quite a while, with no clear stopping point; that zero-interest environment has been one of the shadowy forces in the background that shaped fundamental contours and limits in how our Very Online World has grown and developed. Until COVID.

Or rather, the bounce back from COVID: we suddenly saw a massive spike in inflation and an incredibly strong labor market, as employees quit in record numbers, negotiated higher salaries, and found better work, and at the same time supply chain issues and other economy stuff caused prices to climb dramatically. Recall the Fed's 'dual mandate', to control the employment rate and inflation. This was, basically, kicking them right in the jooblies. They responded in kind, finally finally raising their rates for the first time in 15 years. For some of the people reading this, it'll be the first significant shift in their entire adult lives.

The goal, as I understand it, is to fight inflation by reducing the amount of outside investment into private companies, forcing them to hire fewer people and pay smaller salaries, ultimately drawing money out of the working economy and driving prices back down by lowering demand for everything. You get paid less, so you eat out less, and buy at cheaper restaurants when you do, so restaurants have to compete harder by lowering their prices; seems pretty dodgy to me as a theory, but it's the theory. And the first part will almost certainly work- companies are going to see less investment.

For social media companies that are still paying most of their salaries with investor dollars instead of revenues, this is especially catastrophic. Without outside investment, they're just a massive pile of expenses waiting to happen, huge yearly costs in developer salaries and server fees. This is why, all of a sudden, every social media company is suddenly making bonkers decisions. They're noticing that nobody wants to give them any more money! So they're trying to figure out how to live a lot more cheaply, to actually somehow for reals turn their giant userbases in to some kind of actual revenue stream, or both.

Tumblr is kind of the ur-example of this kind of thing, supporting a very large userbase with no coherent plan whatsoever to start paying its staff with our dollars instead of investors' dollars. When interest rates were low and Scrooge McDuck had nowhere else to hide his pile of gold coins, a crazy kid with a dream was the best alternative available to him. But now, unless something changes, he's going to notice he can just buy bonds instead, and that crazy kid can go take a hike.

That's why I think Tumblr is living on borrowed time, though I don't know how much. Like all cartoons, the economy doesn't really fall off a cliff until somebody looks down and notices they've been standing on thin air this whole time. But they always fall eventually; that's the gag.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiyah! could I request Donna with a reader who has a really ratty old stuffed animal that they’re super attached to that Donna is a little (very) jealous of? maybe during a crisis Donna tears it apart and reader is inconsolable for days and won’t even speak to her, until one day Donna very carefully repairs that stuffed animal for reader again. love some angst with a happy ending!

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))))

A childhood friend

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Donna being Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 7,770

Summary: How can I be jealous of a teddy bear...?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I would never have imagined that I was waiting for someone, that in the darkness of my bedroom, loneliness wasn’t my only company.

After so many years of loneliness, of so much crying, horror… Finally I wasn’t alone and I would never be alone again.

My life is of no interest to anyone, it never was. Maybe I could have the feeling that I really left the young and crazy Donna Beneviento to become someone important, so “lady” preceded my name and I would feel special.

No, that didn’t work. I will always thank the Black Gods, Mother Miranda, for having been chosen for a cause that I am still not sure of. I became a Lord, someone to be feared. Yes, that sounded much better than: the crazy and sick doll woman.

But thinking that something in my life would change after my transformation was only part of an illusion, a desire of my subconscious to abandon my loneliness.

Yes, I had power. I could do things I would never have imagined. Causing fear and suffering to those people who one day messed with me was a fun pastime, but it didn't last too long.

Power brings fear, and fear brings loneliness.

It's not that I wanted to suddenly find myself surrounded by people who begged to serve me, as my sister did. No, that false desire to share my life with someone was the only bit of sanity left in my sick mind.

No, I didn't need anyone. I had everything without having anything.

Thanks to Mother Miranda's gift I was able to give life to my partner Angie, my only friend, the only one who, even without existing, was by my side all those years. A miracle from the Black Gods, a gift I can never thank enough for.

But after years and years of thinking that perhaps loneliness would always be my condemnation, that, simply because I was born into my family, having spent my childhood, my life in that sinister village, I would no longer have the right to be a normal person.

You appeared as a coincidence, as something that shouldn’t be there and at the same time had to exist; a beautiful, perfect girl, daughter of the village weaver.

Were you really a coincidence? It was becoming more and more difficult for me to see it that way.

You had something I needed. You had fabrics for my dolls. At first it was unexpected. The Duke simply didn’t have what I was looking for. When I saw you… When I saw you I knew that I would never buy fabrics from that greedy merchant again.

I preferred to see you, to see your innocent smile, the lack of trembling in your body when I was near. You were different, you didn’t fear me, or you didn’t show it.

That was much more than I had in my entire life, someone who smiled at me, who didn't run away from me, who didn't beg for mercy. It was sudden, my heart started to move strangely, to pound when I got close to you. Yes, I never had the chance to experience that thing called love, so it took me a while to be sure that it was what I felt for you.

Longings, sighs, smiles… All those changes, those involuntary actions of my body were like a disease, one that I did like to have, for which there was only one cure: You.

After a while trying to put my feelings back together, assuming that I really loved you, that I visited you only to contemplate your smile, I dared to tell you what I felt.

I wanted you to guide me. I wanted you to tell me what those sighs meant, those smiles that you were unable to see through my black veil. I explained everything to you, with fear, fearing that you would think I was just stupid, a poor crazy woman who didn't even dare to talk to people.

Your smile grew bigger and bigger and then… Then you confirmed it for me. Those butterflies in my stomach, my mind ravaged by your beauty, the sighs, the desire to see you… It was love.

I wasn't surprised by your timid explanation but... When I lowered my head, ready to run away, so as not to hear your rejection, so as not to hear that I was just a monster, then you did it. Without fearing the consequences of your audacity you lifted my black veil. You didn't uncover my face, just a little bit of it, just enough for your lips to rest on mine.

A kiss, the first of my life but not the last, a kiss from those tender, brave lips that didn't flinch, that didn't hesitate... The best kiss.

You also felt something for me. Your body was sick in the same way, it was sick of love...

Explaining how little by little the kisses became routine, how my caresses became more and more emboldened by your skin would be too boring. Everything we lived always had an end, a bitter one, the moment when you had to go back home.

Desperate, being selfish and possessive, one of those nights I begged you not to leave ever again, to stay with me. You, always surprising me, said yes.

And that, that was the first night in which our bodies could embrace each other eternally, in which the warmth of your body remained in mine.

“Okay, I'm done,” you said when your usual clothes disappeared to give way to a nightgown, the clothes that would accompany you every night. “Donna?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, shaking my head, leaving that journey through my memories, that explanation I needed to know that you were real, that you did exist. “Come,” I said, patting the mattress affectionately.

“Wait, wait, something is missing,” you said suddenly, searching for something among your suitcases. “That's it...”

I blinked several times when I saw you with something in your arms, it looked like a teddy bear, or at least, it once was.

“What's that?” I asked pointing at that ratty animal as you got into bed next to me.

“It's Percy,” you said with an innocent smile, showing me the teddy bear and moving one of its paws comically. “Hello, hello”

“Percy?” I asked again with a frown, taking the bear in my hands.

The condition of that plush was terrible. It was missing an eye and the seams seemed to want to tear. The passage of time was evident in the old bear, it reminded me of Angie.

“Mm,” you murmured as I continued to look at that worn teddy bear. “I've had it since I was very young, it's important to me, you know, like a friend.”

“A friend…” I whispered with an inevitably unpleasant grimace.

 I hate broken toys.

“Yes, I've been sleeping with him for as long as I can remember, he's always been with me, you know...” you commented, sighing and looking at the gestures I made on the animal, trying to recompose one of his arms.

“You haven't taken good care of it,” I murmured, looking at you out of the corner of my eye. “It's destroyed.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders.

“Yes, well... I've always taken him with me on my adventures,” you said with a nostalgic tone. “Time passes for everything, but for me he's still the same.”

“The same? (Y/N), it's missing an eye,” I said with a mocking smile.

I wasn't used to joking, I didn't even know how to do that, I always failed and that time, you didn't even bother to fake a smile, you just crossed your arms.

“You are missing an eye too and I love you,” you said with a dangerous whisper, one that indicated to me that you weren't joking.

I looked at you quickly, offended by your comment. You weren't careful, (Y/N), you didn't know how dangerous it was to joke about my horrible appearance.

Well, maybe you did, because your face immediately changed and you bit your lip, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Um, Donna, don't take it the wrong way... I, I meant it as a joke,” you stammered, with a reassuring tone.

I just nodded, taking one last look at that horrible bear and leaving it on the nightstand.

“Oh, no, no, wait,” you said climbing up my body and reaching out to grab the teddy bear. “Be careful, Donna.”

“Careful? Perché? I haven't done anything,” I said confused while you got off my body again, with that animal in your arms.

“Don't leave Percy anywhere, he’s fragile and... Well, besides, I already told you that I always slept with him so...” you said, placing the bow tie on that teddy bear, making me frown even more.

“Is the bear going to sleep here? In the bed?” I asked in a dark tone.

I didn't know why I acted that way, but I did, I had the need to do it, as if I myself considered that the bear was exceeding the limits of confidence.

“Yes... It's just that... Well, it may seem silly to you but... I continue, I continue sleeping with him,” you confessed a bit embarrassed, placing the bear delicately under the sheets, in a position that seemed horrible to me, between the two of us. “That way he could protect me.”

Ignoring the gesture of putting that plush to sleep with us, I laughed pleasantly, shaking my head and taking your hand.

“Come on, tesoro… You don't need it anymore, I'll protect you,” I said, moving the bear away from the bed.

You gasped, snatching it from my hands with a nervous, almost scared gesture.

“Um, I'm, I'm sorry Donna but I need it,” you said, looking away. “Well, unless… It's a problem for you… Be more careful, please…”

I blinked several times, trying to listen to your words over and over again and to interpret your serious expression as you returned the animal to that privileged place.

A part of me asked for tranquility, calm. The bear wasn’t something strange. I slept with my dolls, with Angie. I should know how important it could be for a person.

 The other part of my head, the one corrupted by hate, jealousy and madness, did nothing but scream at me to get that pathetic bear away from the place my body should occupy.

“Um, it's not a problem,” I said in a small voice, with an expression that surely didn’t show the intention of those words.

Does she prefer to sleep with that bear? How stupid you are, Donna…

“Taci!” I said out loud, startling you with the abruptness of my words.

Again I wasn’t careful. I let the voices in my head sound real, cloud my senses. Luckily, it was only for a moment, until your soft and reassuring hand rested on my cheek again.

“Honey, I didn't say anything,” you said with a nervous smile, with that tone you used when the shadows stalked me.

I was stupid to think that way, to believe that the pathetic bear could replace me. I wish I weren't condemned to madness, to imagine that, around every corner, there was a threat that sought to take you away from me.

“I'm sorry,” I said, rubbing my eye and kissing the back of your hand.

“Relax, I know the move has been stressful for you but...” you said, taking your hand away and lying down on the bed, guiding me to do the same. “I'm here with you now, my love...”

Your whispers, your words of love always served to soften my sharp soul. The day you were gone... I wouldn't want to continue living. Not even eternal life would be a gift. It would be a constant condemnation, a time in which your loss would never disappear from my wounded heart.

“Certo,” I whispered, forcing a smile, reaching out my hand to remind the softness of your skin, to remind myself that I wasn't living in a dream.

You laughed softly, like every time my imperfect hands touched your perfection. Not even the fact that my hand touched that teddy bear stopped me from enjoying your hand, getting a little closer to kiss your lips slowly.

“Careful, be careful, darling,” you said amused, harassed by the tickling my lips did on your skin. “Percy.”

I moved away as my smile faded, letting your hands leave me to take the plush out from under my body and position it again, ready to sleep.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered with a fake voice, glancing sideways at that one-eyed bear, one that seemed to enjoy its victory. At least that's what my mind interpreted.

It was our first night together, and the joy in my heart hid those irrational jealousies for a moment. Having your body sleeping next to mine, your deep, calm breathing reaching my ears like a lullaby... That was unbeatable, even with that disgusting Percy separating us.

I could barely sleep that night.

I couldn't sleep because I had you by my side, because my mind traveled from joy to sadness, then to fear, the fear as always irrational and almost psychotic. I thought when I dared to close my eye, I would lose you forever.

That didn't happen. I dared to sleep, to test my worries, and I won. Well, almost...

When the morning cold shook my body, forcing it to wake up, the first thing I did was to reach out my hand to you. You weren't there. The warmth of your body had abandoned me.

I quickly turned on the light and confirmed my fears. You weren't there, (Y/N), you were gone. My breathing became dangerously labored and my eye traveled all over the room until I lowered my head.

Of course, Percy was still there, looking at me with its one eye, mocking me. It wasn't what I expected to see when I woke up but at least... At least I knew that you weren't gone, you would never go without that filthy teddy bear.

Nervous because of that cold look, because of that bear's sinister shadow, I turned its head, its body, preventing it from continuing to laugh at me, even though it really wasn't.

“Good morning!” A high-pitched squeal made me stir.

Small, familiar footsteps walked towards the bed, jumping on top of it; my friend, my companion, my Angie.

“Don't shout, Angie...” I murmured, shaking my head. “Where's (Y/N)?” I asked curiously.

The doll laughed amused, climbing onto my lap.

“I think she's taking a shower,” she commented thoughtfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“No,” I said in a cold voice, briefly looking at the bear.

“Of course, of course, your conscience did its work,” Angie said with a haughty voice that made me frown.

“My conscience?” I asked, running a hand through my hair, constantly looking at the door, wanting for you to appear.

“Yes, silly Donna…” the doll said, putting a wooden finger on my nose. “I'm sure you felt guilty for having kicked me out of the room.”

“Oh, Angie…” I sighed, understanding the reason for that attitude. “We've already talked about it, you can't sleep with us. You disturb us.”

“Silly!” my doll shrieked. “That's unfair.”

“Angie, taci,” I said with a darker tone. “You have to accept that (Y/N) now lives with us, so do me a favor and behave, will you?”

“I can't behave with the silly girl who forced me to sleep in the office,” Angie protested, crossing her arms and letting herself fall on the mattress. “It's very cold there, Donna.”

“Stop complaining, you can't feel the cold,” I commented, shaking my head, refocusing my gaze on that bear and sighing.

The doll growled, mockingly imitating my posture until she noticed where my eye was pointing, until she noticed that strange presence on the bed

-Ohhh - she murmured curiously, cautiously approaching that teddy bear. -What is this filthy bear?

“It's Percy,” I said in a small voice, frowning and looking away. “It's (Y/N)’s.”

“Percy? Hello, hello Percy…” the doll said, shaking the bear's paw as if she was really greeting it.

I looked at her and couldn't help but smile at that scene. Angie was a demon, but sometimes she managed to look adorable. I don't know what would have become of me without her.

“Hey, you dirty bear! I'm talking to you!” the puppet said abruptly, indignant at not getting an answer.

I laughed amused, picking up the puppet in my arms and sitting her on my lap, fixing her messy hair affectionately.

“Ti voglio bene, Angie,” I whispered with my soul a bit calmer.

“Oh, cheesy Donna,” she protested, removing my hands from her face. “Hey, that bear is rude, he didn't greet me.”

I laughed again, leaving the doll alone.

“He doesn't talk, Angie, he's not like you,” I explained while the puppet examined the bear again with curiosity, shaking it comically.

“Che palle,” she complained. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, as if she had just realized something. “I can't believe it Donna…”

“Mm?” I muttered, watching the door again in case you appeared.

“So, I, the wonderful Angie, the supreme Angie can't sleep here with you and that pile of dirt that looks like a bear can, right?” she protested, with an indignant pose, not leaving the poor bear alone.

I rolled my eye and sighed, relaxing my face again, turning it slightly dark.

“(Y/N) needs to sleep with it,” I explained looking down, remembering the conversation from the day before, those irrational thoughts that talked about stupid jealousy. “It's like... A talisman for her, or something like that.”

“How old is she, 5?” the doll mocked, laughing evilly. “Isn't she old enough for teddy bears?”

I sighed again, shaking my head.

“I can't judge her, Angie, until she came I slept with you,” I said in a low voice, taking the opportunity to remind myself that there was no problem with Percy.

“It's not the same, I can talk, and move, and be the best friend ever,” Angie said proudly, pointing at herself and sitting next to the stuffed animal. “Oh, look, look, he's missing an eye, like you...”

“Should I find that funny?” I said offended, crossing my arms. “It's (Y/N)'s teddy bear and she sleeps with it, that's all, there's no problem with it.”

“Are you talking to me or to yourself?” Angie asked, comically moving the bear's weak limbs.

I looked at her with a furious sigh, not having an answer for that accusation.

“I…” I stammered confused, but before I could try to defend myself, the footsteps on the wood indicated to me that, finally, you had returned. “Oh, (Y/N)…” I sighed with a smile as you leaned in to kiss me.

“Have you missed me, darling?” you asked laughing, surely due to my usual shower of kisses, a desperate one that tried hard to mark your skin. “Donna…” you said, pushing me away amused, kissing me for the last time and sitting next to me.

“I hope you slept well,” I said, forgetting for a moment about my dark thoughts, dazzled by your smile. “Have you been comfortable?”

“Oh yes, of course,” you said, nodding sincerely. “Besides, I already knew this bed…” you whispered in my ear, making the heat of my body move to my cheeks.

“Ugh!” Angie complained, interrupting unpleasantly. “Oh, my love, darling, give me a kiss, mooch, mooch, mooch…” the doll mocked, pretending to kiss Percy, something that made your smile disappear immediately.

“Hey! Don't touch him!” you screamed, moving nervously to snatch Angie's toy. “Don't touch him!”

“Ahhh!” Angie shrieked, fleeing from the unhinged fury of your words, hiding behind of me.

“(Y/N),” I said with a surprised look. I'd never heard you scream like that, I'd never seen you get that nervous. “Cal-calmati, amore mio…”

“It's not a toy, Angie, it's not for you to play with,” you said nervously, checking if my doll had caused havoc on that damn teddy bear.

“How dare you to yell at me?” Angie asked, peeking comically, pointing at you with her finger. “Say something, Donna, defend me.”

I should have, Angie was right.

“Behave, Angie, please…” I whispered, not sure that was what I meant. You looked at me gratefully, frowning, still holding Percy.

“Donna, you traitor …” the doll hissed moving away from me and getting off the bed. “I will get my revenge! You will pay dearly for your insolence! You and that filthy bear!” she shrieked before leaving the room, saying words that weren’t especially nice.

You shuddered, hugging Percy tightly, an image that my mind distorted horribly, making it not to look cute, but dangerous.

“Donna… She threatened me,” you said in a soft voice, getting a little closer to me with a scared look. “Angie won't hurt me, right?”

“Of course she won’t, tesoro,” I said, trying to reassure you with a sweet hug, with a soft kiss on your cheek. “Don't pay attention to her...”

“And Percy?” you asked nervously, moving away from my kisses, from my comfort, and hugging that stupid animal tighter.

I sighed discreetly, shaking my head and drawing your body towards mine again.

“No, tesoro, she won’t hurt Percy either,” I said reluctantly, trying not to make my passivity so obvious.

Luckily you were too preoccupied with the bear to notice the apathy of my words.

That's how our coexistence began, in a strange but satisfactory way. After all, you didn't leave, you stayed with me.

I tried to forget about that bear, I tried to pretend that it didn't accompany us every night, that you hugged it instead of my body. Meditating in the solitude of my workshop, I came to the conclusion that there was no danger in you finding refuge in a childhood companion.

Yes, I stopped thinking about it, or at least I tried. You were so perfect… Seeing you every day, being able to kiss you whenever I wanted, being able to tell you at any time that I loved you, that you were my whole life, was a better gift than the second chance Miranda gave me.

Always so cheerful, so happy, sitting next to me while we read, on my lap whenever I worked on my dolls… I spent all my time with you, all the time I could. The kisses, the caresses, the hugs… Those divine gifts were my new routine. I couldn’t say I got used to it, because I could never do that.

Getting used to it would be trivializing your presence. It would be provoking your kisses to stop causing me that incredible emotion, to stop worsening of my favorite disease, my love for you.

But, although everything was perfect, although the days passed with my body in yours, with my lips adoring yours, there came a time when I began to feel a strange discomfort.

It was like a sensation that made our loneliness, our intimacy disappear. It was like when Angie was around, like when kisses couldn't be diverted into passion. The feeling of being watched got worse as the days went by and, even though I tried to ignore it, I really tried, I couldn't do it.

That bear, that damn bear was always with us. It didn't matter what we were doing. Eating, sleeping, making love, walking... That damn Percy always accompanied us, silently, with that disgusting eye laughing at me.

Living with you was wonderful, but... Yes, I hated that bear.

Your arms hugged it every night, that piece of cotton and fabric had the privilege of feeling your warm body, separating it from mine. It could be an exaggeration, a jealousy that made no sense at all, but… If I couldn't hug you at night, why Percy could? Was he more important than me?

Maybe I was indeed exaggerating. Maybe my mental problems made me see that filthy bear as an enemy and not as one of my lifeless dolls.

Openly admitting that I was jealous of Percy wouldn’t be good for us, I knew it and that's why I decided to pretend that I didn't care about the affection you gave him, that I didn't care about the kisses you gave to that battered fabric, those caresses so different from the ones you gave me.

But time only proved me right, it only fed my darkness. My lap was no longer a place for you, yours was now the bear's favorite place.

It seemed to me that you were distancing yourself, that you gave him much more than you gave me. It could simply be that I didn't pay much attention to you when I made my dolls, I even came to think that it was some kind of revenge for something I didn't know I had done.

I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't take it anymore, not that night.

The kisses were hot, wet. The panting began to fill the bedroom with lust. My heart was beating fast, my hands were traveling over your body. I was in paradise.

“Donna,” you moaned amused by my caresses on your neck, by the way my hands climbed up your legs, ready to touch you, to make you mine, to love you madly…

I laughed, biting your earlobe, moving your body so it rested below mine while my lips began to go down your neck. My mistake was not letting myself get carried away by the voices in my head, by those voices that I began to ignore.

No, the problem was much simpler, I opened my eye.

On top of your bedside table was that filthy bear, the damn Percy. He was always there, always next to you, almost closer to you than me. Maybe that's why I wanted to make love to you desperately that night.

I stopped, catching my breath, staring into that lifeless eye, feeling intimidated, watched, as if that Percy hated me, as if he was capable of feeling the same jealousy as me.

“(Y/N)…” I sighed, sitting up a bit, relaxing the movement of my caresses.

“Donna, why are you stopping? Are you okay?” you asked curiously, running a hand through my hair. I nodded with a frown, looking away from that bear. “Come here, my love…”

Your tender words brought back the desire of my lips kiss yours, but it only lasted a moment, until my stupid eye opened again.

“Mm, no, (Y/N),” I said, moving away again, shaking my head.

You looked at me curiously, with a strange look.

“What's wrong?” you asked with a soft, understanding voice.

You were so perfect…

“It's just that… I, I can't,” I stammered, looking back at that disgusting bear. “It makes me, it makes me nervous,” I said in a low voice, pointing at the teddy bear with my head.

“You mean Percy? Oh, Donna, it's just a teddy bear,” you said amused, pulling my face back to your lips. I pulled away roughly, determined that you would listen to me.

“Can you take it away from there?” I asked, with a cold look. “I can't concentrate.”

“Don't pay attention to him, I promise he won't say anything,” you whispered seductively, silencing my protests with another one of your tender kisses. Not even the softness of your lips could comfort me.

“No, t-take it away from there, tesoro, please,” I asked more nervously, with a frown.

It was a kind request, (Y/N). I don't know why you had to refuse.

“Don't be silly, Donna, just don't look at him,” you said, with a slightly more relaxed look, trying to divert my face from your table. “Don't be childish...”

“Childish?” I asked offended, mouth agape. “Come on, (Y/N), don't be stubborn. Put it down for a moment...”

I reached out my hand to fulfill my wish, but yours stopped me.

“Stop talking nonsense and come here, forget about Percy,” you said with an impatient voice.

Nothing I say is nonsense, (Y/N)

I tried to let myself go again, but I was too nervous.

“Cazzo...” I growled, watched by that lifeless eye, oppressed by the pressure of that smiling expression that would surely laugh victoriously for having won. “Cazzo!” I shrieked, moving to hit the stuffed animal, to throw it to the floor in an unpleasant way.

“What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?” you asked startled, pushing me to get off your body, desperately throwing yourself to the floor to pick up your teddy bear. “Oh, nothing happened to it, right?”

“I can't believe it, (Y/N),” I hissed nervously, shaking my head. “Leave that stupid bear on the floor and come here.”

“It's not stupid,” you said with a look that pierced my chest. “I already told you that it's going to get dirty on the floor.”

“But... You, you...” I murmured, unable to say a word, controlling my increasingly sharp nerves. “Porca puttana...” I hissed, getting up from the bed.

“Where are you going, darling?” you asked, confused by my abrupt attitude. “My love, uh… Why did you do that? You know how important it is to me…”

“You know what, (Y/N)?” I said, turning quickly before walking out the door. Your eyes looked at me scared, terrified. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what I wanted to say, but I knew it wasn't anything good. “I, I'm going to the workshop.”

My cowardice was useful for once. I wanted to tell you so many things… I wanted to talk to you about my absurd jealousy, about my fear about that scruffy stuffed animal taking my place but… I couldn't do it, you would hate me for it and that only meant my fears made sense, that the bear was much more important than me.

I would have to calm down, my hands were shaking. That time I managed to avoid the crisis, but I didn't know how much longer I could bear it.

The next day started like any other, a romantic breakfast, your body on my lap again while I worked… It seemed like that tense moment had caused you to realize what my concern was.

But the reality was very different. That bear was still with us all the time, even closer to you, as if you wanted to protect it from another one of my slaps. You hugged it, held it close to your body. It was even closer than me.

“You know? I've been thinking…” you murmured while we ate. My gaze shifted from Percy, accompanying us, as always, and went to your beautiful eyes.

I nodded with a slightly forced smile, one that stayed alive in the light of your smile.

“Tell me what you've been thinking, tesoro…” I sighed romantically, something that made you smile in the same way

“Mm, I thought we could go for a walk in the woods, it's a really nice day,” you said with that soft tone, with that shy smile.

“Yes, a walk!” Angie exclaimed, startling us both.

“Um, no, just me and Donna,” you corrected in a slightly abrupt but amused manner.

“I want to go too, I want to go too!” the doll protested, tugging hard at my black dress, making me almost choke on my wine.

“Angie, cazzo, lasciami…” I protested, pulling the garment away from her wooden claws. “No, you're not coming.”

“Oh, Donna said a bad word,” Angie mocked, in an exaggerated manner. I shook my head, rolling my eye and smiling at you amusedly.

That smile faded when I saw you look at the bear and shrug. It made me so nervous when you looked at it…

“What did you say? A bad word?” you asked curiously.

“Oh, well, Angie's right, you better not learn those ugly words, sweetheart…” I said, dismissing my outburst with a wave of my hand.

“Donna, silly, mean Donna, I want to go for a walk, I want to go!” the doll shouted again, causing me to sigh tiredly.

“I said no,” I said firmly with a stern tone. “You stay here watching Percy, mm?”

“What?” you asked, startled by my innocent words. “Oh, no, no, Percy is coming with me.”

“That's it, choose the filthy bear over me,” Angie whispered, with her hands on her hips. “Donna, tell her something!”

“Angie… Can we eat in peace?” you asked again, clasping your hands together in a pleading manner.

My gaze darkened again and the hand holding my wine glass began to tremble. I couldn't believe it, I just couldn't believe it.

What was supposed to be a liberating step, without stuffed animals or dolls, was nothing but a continuation of that horrible routine in which Percy was always present.

My hand squeezed the glass so hard that it broke, causing you to moan in surprise.

“Uh, wow, you're strong, huh, honey?” you joked, removing the two glass parts from my hands. “Wait, I'm going to throw this so you don't cut yourself. Percy, keep an eye on her.”

The anger could no longer stay inside me.

“Don't go, (Y/N),” I said, getting up from the table and getting in your way.

“Oh, do you want something from the kitchen?” you asked innocently, emptying the broken glass’ wine into yours.

“No,” I said abruptly, with my teeth clenched, with my fist wanting to break more glasses. “The bear is not coming with us.”

“What? Oh, um, why not?” you stammered, putting the crystals in a basket and looking at me confused. “Of course it’s coming.”

“Of course it’s not. The bear is staying,” I hissed, breathing more and more heavily.

“No, the bear is coming with us,” you said with a fake, nervous smile, as if I was saying something crazy. I wasn't, I was right. “What's wrong with you?”

Your words only increased my nerves. I couldn't stand it anymore. The madness was starting to make me lose control.

“What's wrong with me, huh?!” I screamed furiously, unhinged, letting out that contained rage, that stupid and absurd jealousy. “Qual è il tuo problema!?”

“D-Donna, you know I don't understand Italian,” you whispered cautiously, backing away slowly. “What's wrong with you? You're, you're very nervous…”

“How long are you going to keep laughing at me?” I asked in a lower tone, but just as dangerous. “Tell me, have you decided to make fun of me until I can't take it anymore?”

“What are you talking about? Oh, honey, you're losing your mind again… I'll go get your medicine,” you said nervously, passing by me. A bad idea, since my hand grabbed your arm tightly, pushing you back with a furious gasp.

“Yes, I'm losing my mind… Because of you!” I shrieked, clenching my fists tightly and approaching your side of the table, where that stupid Percy was resting. “I'm fed up, (Y/N)! I’m Fed up!”

“Donna, you're scaring me…” you stammered, grabbing the bear to hug it, to take refuge in it, instead of me. That was the last straw.

“Oh…” I growled furiously, snatching it away from you roughly.

“Hey! Give it back to me!” you shrieked nervously while trying to reach it, something impossible, since I was holding it above my head and you… You weren't exactly the tallest girl in the village… “Donna!”

“No! What's wrong, (Y/N)? If you love this stupid bear that much, what are you doing with me?”

“What?” you asked confused, jumping uselessly to reach your partner. “Donna, stop…. Donna!”

“Basta!” I screamed with more anger, pushing you roughly. “I'm sick of this filthy bear! Sick of you loving him more than me!”

“What the fuck are you saying?” you asked, furious, giving up and shaking your head. “Have you gone completely crazy? I knew you were jealous, Donna, really, I knew you were possessive but to be jealous of my teddy bear… It's too much, even for someone like you.”

“If you don't want me to be jealous, stop putting this stinky thing in my bed, stop hugging him at night!” I shouted, shaking Percy in my hand, noticing how the weak stitching on its arm slowly unraveled.

“I don't think you're the best person to accuse me of that. What about Angie?” you asked, pointing at the puppet, who pointed at herself and shook her head.

“Hey, don't involve me!” the doll protested.

“She's alive, (Y/N), this fucking bear is not, he will never be, he will never love you like I do!”

“You're going crazy. You must relax, give Percy back to me and go with your stupid dolls,” you said in a calm tone, getting a little closer to me. “When you get over that stupid craziness, we can talk calmly.”

I narrowed my eye, still breathing furiously as you extended your hand towards mine.

“Come on, Donna, be a good girl and give it back to me,” you said, with a demanding tone that ended up driving me crazy.

I growled, lowering the stuffed animal to your height but immediately removing it from your grip.

“Do you want me to give it back to you?” I asked with a dark look that was surely terrifying.

You nodded, you didn't seem moved.

“Come on, Donna, give it to me,” you said with an impatient gesture.

“Cazzo!” I screamed, grabbing the bear with both hands and doing the worst thing I could do, ripping it, pulling at those weak seams to tear it in half, to tear apart your most precious possession and throw it to the floor with a grunt. “Here is il tuo orsacchiotto di merda!”

“Donna!” you screamed, exchanging pride for the deepest sadness. “No, no, no!”

Screaming, you bent down to pick up the remains of the animal, bursting into tears that tore my soul apart completely. My madness didn't allow me to pity you, not even for a second. I thought I had triumphed.

“Why…?” you sobbed, trying to put the bear back together in a pathetic way. The cotton was sticking out of the tear and one of the arms didn't fit anymore. “Percy…”

I just looked at you, my gaze still dark.

“Donna,” you sobbed, hugging the parts of the teddy bear. “You are a monster,” you whispered, staring me straight in the eye, tears running down your cheeks.

You didn’t say anything else, not even that terrible insult made me stir until you ran out up the stairs and locked yourself in the guest room among horrible cries.

“Oh, Donna, Donna…” Angie sighed, coming closer when she saw the white on my knuckles disappear and I began to realize.

“Oh… What, what have I done?” I said, as if I had just woken up from a nightmare, running a trembling hand over my forehead, looking at a piece of cotton on the floor. “No…”

“Donna, my friend…” Angie sighed, hands on hips. “…You screwed it up.”

Angie was right.

My absurd jealousy, my sick mind forced me to break Percy, to take away your childhood friend. I hated myself, I screamed, I yelled, but none of that could ease my conscience nor heal my mistake.

You stopped talking to me, almost looking at me. You didn't even sleep with me. I had lost you.

But it wasn't a quick loss, you didn't abandon me completely. You were still in my house, you hadn't left me. What was initially a relief became the worst of my tortures. I could see you, but not have you. I could hear you, but not talk to you, I could look at your lips, but I couldn't kiss them.

I tried, I tried by all means to apologize, to beg you to forgive me, but it wasn't enough, it never would be.

“(Y/N),” I said when, as always, you sat down to eat with me. Your gaze was cold, annoyed, it seemed like you really hated me. My voice was soft, sad, apologizing with every word I said. It was of no use.

You didn't look at me or greet me. You just poured yourself a glass of water.

“L-look, I, I made lasagna… It, it's your favorite dish,” I said shyly, serving her a perfect piece that she reluctantly accepted.

“Do you expect me to thank you?” you asked, ignoring my gaze again. At least it was the first time in days that I heard you speak.

“(Y/N), per favore… Listen to me…” I said nervously, with a trembling voice and a tear in my eye.

“I don't want to listen to you,” you said in a gruff voice, dragging the chair. “If you don't leave, I'll go to my room.”

“Forgive me, I beg you, I'm, I'm suffering, tesoro, you don't know how much I am…” I said in a more pathetic tone, reaching out my hand to touch yours. You stood up with a cold look, without a smile, without the sparkle in your eyes.

“What do you know about suffering? You have no fucking idea about people's feelings, Donna. I'm going to my room, I'm not hungry,” you growled, getting up from the chair and walking back to the stairs.

“(Y/N)…” I sobbed when I lost sight of you, resting my forehead on my hand, letting the tear I was holding fall onto the table.

As if saying your name summoned you, you approached again, hurriedly, picking up your plate of food with an embarrassed look, making a proud gesture as you took that lasagna to your room.

A strange smile formed on my face as I shook my head. At least you were still enjoying my food.

“Is everything okay?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap.

“No, it's not okay at all,” I said hoarsely, pouring myself some wine. “I'm losing her, Angie…”

“Well, you've broken her childhood teddy bear and hurt her feelings, you can't be surprised by her reaction,” the doll said. She was right.

“I don't know what I can do… I'm desperate,” I murmured, playing with my food. “I'll lose her forever, because of me.”

“You gain nothing by regretting it, silly Donna, do something,”  Angie said, guiding my face so I looked at her.

“What? I've apologized in every possible way, I've begged her and… It, it didn't help,” I explained while the doll listened to me, pretending boredom.

“If you think that by saying sorry you're going to fix things up, you're more stupid than you look, Donna,” she said, making me growl furiously, pushing her off my lap.

“Angie…” I hissed dangerously while a word stuck in my mind: fix. “Oh, wait… I think I got it…”

“What, Donna? What are you thinking?”

“Come, I need your help.”

The solution came to my head like a fresh breeze. Yes, it was true that saying sorry was absurd, that it wouldn't fix anything but… That only happened when there was nothing to fix. Fixing my mistakes wasn't something abstract, metaphorical. I could fix everything, really fix it. If I wanted to get you back, I should fix Percy.

With Angie's unmatched help, and with you not seeming upset with my doll, I managed to distract you so I could go up to your new room and get back what was left of Percy.

I spent two days in the workshop, without eating, without sleeping, searching for every piece of fabric, recomposing every part of that damn bear. If it had to be with us so I could enjoy your love, so be it.

Two new eyes, a restored bow tie, reinforced seams, clean and soft fabric, a rebuilt smile, he looked brand new.

“Well, there you are…” I murmured, running a hand over my forehead, yawning from exhaustion. “Welcome back, Percy. What do you think, Angie?”

“Oh…” the doll murmured. “It's amazing, Donna, I'm sure (Y/N) is going to love it.”

“Either that or she'll hate me forever… Is she upstairs?”

The doll nodded.

Slowly, I went up the elevator, with the animal hidden behind my back, walking slowly towards you, who seemed nervous, looking under the furniture, at least until you saw me.

“You! You crazy nutcase! What have you done with Percy?” you shouted at me, pushing me by the shoulders. I didn't move, I just shook my head. “It wasn't in its place... You threw it in the trash, right?”

“No,” I whispered with a hoarse voice, trying to keep my composure despite your angry pushes.

“Yeah, right, stop pretending, Donna. I'm sure you've gotten rid of it, how long do you plan to make me suffer?” you asked, pushing me harder and harder. “Talk, you crazy bitch! Tell me where Percy is!”

I didn't answer, no matter how much my heart hurt from your insults. I simply moved the bear from my back, holding it with both hands and showing it to you, who immediately froze, blinking several times.

“What…? Percy?” you asked confused, shyly taking the restored teddy bear. “What…?”

“Hello, (Y/N),” –I said without moving my lips, pretending to be the animal. You looked at me out of the corner of your eye and shook your head.

“It's, it's incredible… It's, it's like I remember it when my parents… Gods… What have you done?” you asked, looking at the clean bow tie, running a finger over its two now perfect eyes. The smile was starting to appear on your face.

“Donna fixed me up. She put a lot of effort into it. Look at me, I finally have two eyes,” Percy said again while I looked at you with a sad expression.

“I see…” you laughed with a sincere smile. “Look at the seams… It’s, it’s perfect…”

“Donna loves you so much. She’s tried so hard to fix me up to make you happy. She didn’t want to hurt you. She was just being silly, were you, Donna?” Percy said.

 I nodded slowly.

You shook your head and laughed amused, leaving the bear on a table and walking towards me, cupping my face in your hands.

“Donna, my love…” you whispered, with tears in your eyes. “Honey…”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to make you suffer… I, I just…”

You interrupted me the best way you knew, with one of your tender kisses, one that almost made me cry, one that you hadn’t given me in too long.

“I behaved like a fool too,” you said, playing with my hands. “I know the whole Percy thing was hard for you, Donna, but… Don’t, don’t worry, we’ll both make an effort to be a bit better, okay? I love you so much, my love…”

“I love you, (Y/N)…”

[suga-kookiemonster]

satisfy 06

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader word count⇢ 4.8k genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda) warnings⇢ none, really. just a few suggestive memories and oc having a crisis 👀 a/n⇢ and now, my dear friends, we finally make it to the epilogue! 🥹 thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic over the years, and i'm extra grateful to everyone who has dropped in my inbox at any point to scream their feelings about it to me--as well as everyone who has enjoyed it enough to reblog and share! 💜💜 you guys are the ones who really keep me coming back to share my writing on this hellsite, and i truly, truly appreciate you for helping keep fandom fun and alive. i hope you've enjoyed this ride as much as i have enjoyed taking you on it! 🥰😈 mood for this chapter is this song~ thanks again, everyone! 💜

chapters⇢ previous | series masterlist

Just as they were scheduled to, your employers jetted off overseas, leaving you to your own devices for the next three weeks. You weren’t going to lie—it felt bizarre for your calendar to be so open after months of near bursting due to constant activity. But honestly? It was truly refreshing to suddenly have so much downtime. And after your last Kim encounter, you definitely felt your break was well-deserved.   

So, you used the sudden breathing room to catch up on other parts of your life that had been suffering. The next few days were spent burrowed beneath the covers and gloriously unconscious, your truly exhausted body ensuring sleep to be your first priority. Initiating the wildest sexual encounter you had ever had—and probably would ever have—on a Thursday meant that you luckily only had to miss one lecture, and you happily did so, knowing the slides would be online for you to look over later. And though you weren’t asleep the entire weekend, even when you were awake, you didn’t part with the comfort of your bed for long—eating takeout in it and watching true crime documentaries in it and actively ignoring the way your skin tingled when your mind strayed to the other activities you had done in it not too long prior. 

(And if you were being honest, it was a little hard to not linger on what you had done. On what you so easily allowed the Kims to do.) 

When you did allow yourself to linger on it, it almost felt like a fever dream. Some abstract, depraved fantasy that your overactive mind had cooked up. But the ache in your muscles, the tenderness of your pussy—these were tangible proof that it had all been real. That the flashes of hot tongues and gasping breaths and shivering pleasure that kept creeping back, no matter how you tried to distract yourself, were memories, not figments of your imagination. You knew you should probably feel some sort of shame over it, but honestly? Other than astonishment that this was what your life had become, other than the expected fatigue—

You only felt satisfied.

Satisfied that your own needs had been spectacularly met, of course, but also with the knowledge that your employers were even more satiated than you, and that you had done that. You couldn’t help but glow with a sense of pride when your doorbell rang one afternoon and you were handed a gorgeous flower arrangement, the corresponding card detailing that the unexpected, expensive gift was from Kim Seokjin. Months ago, you probably would have felt mortified to receive them—especially with the intimate knowledge of what exactly he was thanking you for—but you had earned those flowers, dammit! Earned that, as well as the absurd amount of money Namjoon unceremoniously wired you in between the texts he sent you every few days to check on you. 

You always gave your all to whatever you set out to do, and this was no different. You were a hard worker, period. No one could fault you for being pleased with the successful results of your efforts.     

So yes, you spent those next few days relaxing and recuperating and feeling rewarded. And when you finally felt enough like a human to leave your nest of pillows and blankets, you used your newfound freedom from distractions to catch up on other parts of your life you had been inadvertently ignoring—the first being your schoolwork, and the second, Jimin. 

You did a double-take when your text thread showed that the last time you had messaged him had been a week and a half ago, unbelieving. Though busy, the two of you never went that long without at least checking in, and for him to not reach out either? You couldn’t help but worry that maybe he had forgotten about you. Found someone much more interesting, someone prettier and much more available to be showered with his attention than you. 

But luckily, your slow spiraling was immediately halted when the timid Hey you sent him resulted in his bubbly, smiley face-filled reply barely a second later. 

And so now, there you were, meeting him in person for the first time in over a month.

“Sorry I’m late,” you told him as you approached the table, slightly out of breath from your hustle there. “Traffic was crazy and the Uber driver seemed afraid of driving, or something? Like, this probably isn’t the job for you if driving in the city makes you that nervous.” Because yes, when Jimin asked if you could meet him for dinner, you were surprised when he chose a spot downtown. And you were even more surprised when you finally arrived and realized that said restaurant was apparently an upscale hotspot, especially considering the meals you usually shared together consisted of nothing fancier than takeout or something you could grab from the convenience store.

He immediately stood up to wrap you in his arms, giving you a comforting squeeze that reflexively had you melting into the warmth of him before he let go. God, he smelled good. “Glad you made it in one piece,” came his amused reply, eyes twinkling as he reached over and politely pulled your chair out for you.  

You did your best to tamp down the familiar delighted butterflies that always sprung up within you when you were near him. There was something more pressing that needed to be addressed. “Jimin,” you hissed out the corner of your mouth, warily looking around. “You didn’t tell me this restaurant was so nice! I would’ve dressed up more.” Because as it was, your simple cocktail dress wasn’t really cutting it. The tables had cloth tablecloths that no doubt were removed and washed between each seating. There were multiple chandeliers sparkling from the ceiling, for fuck’s sake! Jimin had told you to wear something more on the nicer side, but he never told you this nice, and you could tell immediately that you were underdressed. You had been so excited to see him again that you just got in the car without even bothering to google the place first. 

Jimin waved a dismissive hand, visibly unbothered as he retook his own seat. For his part, he had actually taken the time to throw on a rather smart blazer over his dress shirt and slacks, his hair carefully styled and slicked back. “You look beautiful, as you always do.”

Your eyes shifted to the table, a shy but pleased smile inching across your lips. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for meeting me. I was worried you’d forgotten about me.”

You couldn’t help the incredulous snort that escaped you. “Me forget about you? No, of course not, Jiminie. I’m sorry for dropping off the face of the earth—I’ve just been so busy—”

Jimin’s raised hand halted your rambling, the gentle crinkle of his eyes calming your frazzled nerves. “Don’t worry,” he smiled. “I totally get it—I was just teasing. I could tell you had a lot going on, and so I just didn’t want to bother you. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Didn’t you, though? Would he feel the same way if he knew just what had been taking up all your time? You reflexively swallowed, sifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yeah, school has been running me ragged.” And it’s not a lie. Just not the full truth.

“No kidding. I think I got seven hours of sleep total last week, so like I said, I totally get it.” Before it even registered that he was reaching for you, his hand was already enveloping yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “I’m just happy we have the chance to get together now. I missed you.” 

You felt yourself immediately soften into putty at his admission. “I’ve missed you too, Jimin,” came your soft reply. Dazedly, you tried your best not to visibly show how much his unexpected touch was making your heartbeat skyrocket, but from the pleased curl of his lips, you weren’t entirely sure you were successful. 

It didn’t matter, because just as easily as he had reached into your space, he was now letting go, pulling his appendage back to his side of the table to pick up his menu.  

As if waiting for a lull in your conversation, the waiter chose that moment to approach your table. “Welcome to Serendipity. Have the two of you dined with us before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin replied, expectantly looking your way for your response and finding you scrabbling for your menu instead.

“Me neither,” you squeaked, flustered that you had been too busy making heart eyes at Jimin to even give it a cursory browse. “Is there anything you recommend?”

The waiter reached over a little to direct you a slip of paper on your table that had gone unnoticed until this moment. “You can find our current specials here—I’m a big fan of the salmon, but everything on there is excellent. And we’re actually currently running a dinner for two special, that’s been really popular. One appetizer to share, two entrées, and a dessert to share.”

Yes, it didn’t surprise you that that would be popular—along with how nice the restaurant was, you had noticed immediately when walking in that it was filled with couples who were clearly having romantic nights out.

“I think we’re still deciding on food.” Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “But can we please see a wine list?”

Wine? Your brow raised, not opposed, but surprised. In all the time you’ve known each other, alcohol has certainly never been a stranger—you’ve had late night study sessions together, accompanied by chicken and beer; you’ve gotten shitfaced together at bars after particularly rough exams. But something about this felt…different. In this restaurant, much fancier than you anticipated, surrounded by couples, sitting across a candlelit table from where Jimin was poring over a wine selection that you knew had to be really expensive—this was undoubtedly more intimate.  

You idly cleared your throat, not daring to linger too long on the dots your mind couldn’t help but connect. Because it obviously couldn’t be that. It had to be a coincidence.

“_____,” Jimin said, the slight raise in his voice cluing you in that this wasn’t the first time he had tried to get your attention. “How does this one sound?” 

You blinked our of your thoughts, finding both him and the waiter looking at you expectantly. “Whatever you choose is fine!” you croaked, slapping on a smile for good measure.    

“Excellent choice. I’ll bring it right out,” the waiter said with an affirmative tilt of his head, and then the two of you were alone again. 

It was quiet for a bit while you both properly perused your menus, though from the corner of your eye, the curious glances Jimin was sending you didn’t escape your notice. You were acting weird. You were acting weird and he could clearly tell you were acting weird, but ever since you noticed the restaurant’s romantic atmosphere, you couldn’t help it.

“These prices are kinda wild, huh?” came your attempt at normal conversation.

Jimin took it in stride, lips curling in amusement. “Yeah, they’re definitely overcharging for those stuffed mushrooms. But don’t worry about it—I invited you out, so this is my treat.”

You shook your head immediately. “No, no, I can’t let you do that! I was just making a comment. Don’t worry, I have enough money to pay.”

He let out a bemused sigh, shaking his head, and if you didn’t happen to be looking directly at him, you might have missed him say under his breath, “You’re not gonna make this date easy for me, huh?”

You immediately choked on your own spit, eyes bugging at what you thought you heard. “D-Date?” you repeated incredulously.

Jimin’s spine went stiff, eyes widening as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. You could only watch in amazement as it was his turn to look shy, pointedly averting his gaze to his menu and letting out a chuckle that sounded suspiciously nervous to your bemused ears. When you continued to gape at him, waiting for some sort of explanation, he was forced to continue.

“Yeah,” he hedged cautiously. “That’s what I’d hoped. Would that be a bad thing?”

You couldn’t answer right away, staring him down like he had grown two heads and wondering when he was going to burst out laughing with a Gotcha! You should have seen your face.  

Always one for great timing, the waiter chose that moment to come back with your wine, taking his sweet time pouring it into each of your glasses and cheerfully chatting about the region it came from. You didn’t hear a single word, too focused on the way Jimin studiously avoided your stare, on the noticeable flush that had risen up his neck and was fanning across his cheeks. It was only after you apologetically asked for more time for your meal orders—your mind too frazzled to pick something on the spot—that he left again. Jimin took a long swig from his wineglass.

“Sorry,” he murmured, still not looking at you. “I probably should have let you know my intention beforehand, but I was nervous you wouldn’t come, or I’d chicken out of doing it, or—”

“Your intention?” you parroted dazedly. 

Another generous swallow of wine, the liquid courage coaxing his eyes to meet yours. “I wanted to take you out somewhere really nice,” he admitted. “Show you a good time and work up the nerve to properly ask you out again.”

“On a. Date?” Your lashes fluttered, an involuntary response to your brain short-circuiting. “With me.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, with you, silly.”

“Why?”

“You’re really going to make me say it? Before our food gets here?” He was fiddling with his napkin, but despite his clear nervousness, his gaze was now unwavering and his voice was clear. “Because I like you, _____. I have for a long time.”

These were words that you had only heard him whisper in your wildest dreams, when your subconscious thoughts were no longer being restrained by your common sense. And as such, you could only gape at him, sure you were about to wake up any second.

Your unintentional silence triggered Jimin’s tongue into overdrive, and you could only struggle to make sense of his rambling as he proceeded to tell you how much your friendship meant to him and how he was afraid confessing how he felt would affect it, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. How his feelings for you were growing by the day, and the recent time spent away from you was maddening and only confirmed to him how much he wanted to be with you. And so he felt he had to at least put it out there and try.

And the longer he talked, the more your eyes welled up with horrified tears, panic gripping you by the throat and squeezing, tight, tight.

This was nothing short of a nightmare. 

You would have never agreed to your arrangement with the Kims if you had thought in a million years Jimin would have ever been a serious option for you. 

Absolutely not. You would have swallowed your pride, maybe taken that loan from Tae instead. Would have also taken as many odd jobs as you could to pay him back, would have forgone sleep completely and struggled ten times more than you were now just so you could pay off your debts. Hell, you would have even just fucking dropped out. Would have taken the semester off and attempted to come back whenever you could scrounge up the appropriate funds. 

But never, never ever, would you have done what you had done. 

Because now, not only were you contractually unable to be with the man you’ve—in an attempt at self-preservation—refused to acknowledge you were in love with, but even if you found some legal way to quit now…there was zero chance Jimin would still want you when he knew. Less than zero. And you couldn’t blame him for that, because who would?

Beyond overwhelmed, you did the only sensible thing you could in that moment—you burst into tears.

Your sudden sniveling immediately halted Jimin’s rambling, eyes wide in alarm and looking every bit as distressed as you. “Ah—don’t cry!” He leaned over the table, cradling your face in his hands and swiping your tears with his thumbs. “You don’t have to feel the same way, _____. I’ll get over it, please don’t cry—”

“No,” you blubbered, beyond miserable. He couldn’t be more wrong. “I do! Jimin, I feel exactly the same way, I just…” Your eyes welled up anew, unable to tell him the truth. “I c-can’t.” 

“You can’t?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes roved your face for any possible answers, nibbling slightly on his bottom lip in thought. “…Is this…” His thumbs were still caressing your cheeks, gaze gentle and open as he quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying the two of you any attention. When it was clear no one was giving your table more than a few curious glances, he said quieter, “…Is this about the arrangement you have with Tae?”

Everything froze. Your eyes locked, Jimin patiently waiting for your reply. Hysteria trickled through your veins, held only a bay by the disbelief slamming into you harder than a freight train. “W-What arrangement?” you blurted reflexively, a touch too loudly to be believable. 

It was Jimin’s turn be caught off guard, hands slowly dropping from your face and returning to his side of the table, though he was still leaned over it so he could still whisper to you, “You know.” He looked at you pointedly, mouth downturning a bit in his confusion. “With him and his brothers. The arrangement.” 

Jesus Christ, this was not happening. There was no way that this was actually happening to you. There was no way that the man who unknowingly held your heart in the palm of his hand was fully aware that you were fucking his best friend for money. Deny, deny! “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, still visibly puzzled. But the two of you only sat in an awkward silence for a few more moments before he snapped his fingers, a light bulb clearly going off. “Ah! You can’t say anything because you signed an NDA, right?” 

You swallowed thickly, unable do anything more in that very moment than stupidly stare at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” Jimin chuckled, smacking his forehead for good measure. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize that sooner. Obviously you’re under NDA.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Weren’t sure from the gentle smile he was now sending you if he even expected a response from you. Luckily, Jimin kept talking. 

“But it’s okay—I already know everything, so you don’t have to hide it,” he reassured you. You didn’t feel assured. You felt like you were in the Twilight Zone. “Taehyung told me about your agreement when you started it months ago.”

If you were flustered before, that was nothing on what you were feeling now. Now, half-thoughts were ricocheting across your brain too quickly for you to grasp anything of substance but your internal screeching. “You know everything?” you repeated incredulously. This time it was you who leaned over the table, meeting him in the middle. “Taehyung told you?!”

“Of course he did!” Color rebloomed across his cheeks, but he didn’t shy away from the bewildered stare down you were giving him. “He’s my best friend and he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be stepping on any toes. He…knows how I feel about you.” When you only continued to stare at him, he nervously added, “Who do you think got me the reservation for this place to begin with? The waitlist is literally a year out.”

“I’m sorry, I just—” You pulled back so you could reach for your wineglass, allowing yourself a few healthy sips to give your mouth something to do other than flap about like an idiot while you stalled. Jimin didn’t call you out on it, just waited patiently and topped off your glass when you set it back down again. 

You took a few steadying breaths, ultimately choosing to lean back closer to Jimin. To the casual onlooker, the two of you were just another couple making heart eyes over a romantic dinner. And considering the rather lewd and illegal turn your conversation had just taken in this very public place, that only worked in your favor. “Let me get this straight,” you whispered, carefully choosing your words in case you still managed to garner an unwanted audience. “Taehyung told you the deal he has with me. Months ago.” Jimin nodded. “And you’ve known this entire time about our…arrangement, but never told me you knew.”

“I swear I didn’t at all mean to keep that a secret,” he murmured, expression contrite. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you or anything like that, so I’ve just been waiting on you to bring it up at your own pace. But I didn’t take into account that you would never bring it up because you would be under NDA, which, again, now that I say it out loud was an extremely stupid assumption of me not to make. I’m sorry.”

“So. You have feelings for me,” you reiterated, ignoring the delighted shiver that raced up your spine at the words. You had to be sure. “But it didn’t bother you that your best friend…propositioned me? You have no problem with me being…involved with him and his brothers?”

“You were caught between a rock and a hard place and the grind never stops. You know I know that better than anybody,” he replied with a shrug. He swallowed, discreetly ensuring no one was paying the two of you any attention before he added, “You think you’re the only one who’s sucked dick for money?”

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping a little before you could catch it. Was he…implying what you thought he was implying? There was no way. You had to be reading into it. 

But ultimately, all of this was irrelevant. When the ghost of Seokjin’s mouth on you came to you unbidden—the phantom weight of Taehyung’s body, the haunting reprimand of Namjoon’s stern hand—

You shook your head, unsuccessfully dispelling those unwanted, lingering thoughts. Your gaze skirted to the table, despondent and embarrassed as you finally set free your hushed admission. “Jimin, I’ve done more than suck dick for my money.” 

There was a pause, an agonizing one that felt like an eternity, and then he was lifting your chin with a finger and guiding you to meet his eyes.

“Again.” He reached for your hands, thumb tracing patterns over your knuckles. His smile was a soft secret. “You think you’re the only one?” 

He held your gaze, not looking away even though your mouth just flapped uselessly as you struggled to regain your bearings. So he did mean—

“Does knowing that bother you?” Jimin asked quietly, expression now carefully neutral. Seriously asking, and giving you the proper space to process and answer. “Does it change anything?”

“No.” The truth, though delayed, left you as easily as a breath. He was still Jimin. “Of course not.”

Jimin’s resulting grin turned his eyes into crescents. “Soooo…what I’m hearing is that we’re clearly on the same page and are both Team Fuck Bitches, Get Money.” 

Boy, did you wish you could smile back. Wish you could share in his obvious relief. But while you assumed his exploits were in the past, the same couldn’t be said for you, who was actively under contract. “Jimin, I’m still…employed,” you couldn’t help but point out. “And still will be for a while. That really doesn’t bother you?”

“It really doesn’t,” he insisted. But your continued hesitance had him pulling back from you, hands busying themselves with reaching for his wineglass as he carefully asked, “Should it? Is there something else I should know?” A couple sips of wine to steel himself before a  cautious, “Do you have feelings for any of them?”

“No!” you blurted. Despite the amount of time and intimacy you had been spending with the Kims, romantic feelings had never even crossed your mind. Your pussy certainly felt some things when she was getting some action, but your heart had never gotten involved. Your heart was too busy crowding in your throat at that very moment, threatening to fling itself at the man in front of you.

Jimin took your sincerity for what it was, a pleased twist to his lips. “Then it’s all fine with me. And again, Tae’s been aware from the beginning that I’ve been intending to ask you out, so that expectation has been there since the beginning. All three of them agreed to the deal knowing that I might be in the picture if I ever decided to put my big boy pants on and tell you how I feel. They’ve been expecting it, so they’re cool with it.”

“They’re cool with it,” you parroted blankly, completely flabbergasted. This was absolutely not how you foresaw this night going, and you never would have thought your life would ever take a turn like this in a million years. “They’re cool with it, and so are you?”

“I don’t mind sharing your time,” he shrugged. “So long as I’m not sharing you.”

“And you don’t see that as the same thing in this…situation?” you asked incredulously. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Jimin puffed out an amused laugh. “Wow, you really are trying to talk me out of this, huh?”

You waved your hands. “Absolutely not, that is the last thing I want! I just. I come with a lot of baggage, and I don’t want any of it to come as a surprise. As busy as I’ve been the last couple weeks? That’s becoming a reoccurring normal. And Jimin, I just feel really shitty.” You swallowed. “Because I can’t promise you everything that you deserve to be promised right now.”

Jimin’s face softened as he listened to you, visibly much more comfortable now that you had successfully reassured him just how badly you wanted this. And oh, did you want it. You weren’t sure how this could ever work, but god did you want it to.

“Not fair,” he repeated under his breath, eyes glazed over in thought. “Hmmm.” 

“Is there anything I could do?” you hedged. You weren’t really sure what that could possibly be, considering the ironclad situation you were in. But now that you had been given a glimmer of your heart’s desire, you couldn’t let it fade away. Not if you could help it.  

His reply wasn’t immediate, still lost in thought. But when his eyes finally refocused on you, smoldering and intense, you couldn’t help the way your breath caught in response, the way your heart quickened. “Here’s an idea of what we can do to make it fair. What if you continue to work for them, just as you are now. And then…” 

He was thoughtlessly swirling his wineglass, momentum pulling the ruby liquid into slow, circling waves that would be rather hypnotizing if you weren’t already caught in the snare of his gaze. When he leaned across the table again, the way you followed suit was as easy as breathing. A lovesick sailor willingly lured to possible danger by a siren’s song. “Whatever you do for them, you do for me. How does that sound?” 

You let out a soft breath, just the thought of it immediately electrifying your every atom. Sparks danced excitedly beneath your skin, his soft, sultry tone curling your toes in their shoes. 

“Fair.”

His Adam’s apple dipped excitedly, lips parting.

“So sorry to interrupt,” someone suddenly said from beside you. It was the waiter again. You had completely forgotten about him. Completely forgotten everything other than the restless tap of Jimin’s fingers against the table. “I just wanted to check in to see if you were ready to order?” 

“Yes, I think so.” You didn’t look away from Jimin—still hadn’t even glanced at the menu. Your tongue swiped over your lips, and his gaze darkened in response. 

“But I think we’d like it to go.”

chapters⇢ previous | series masterlist

[alpaca-clouds]

Travel is good, tourism isn't

I said in the blog yesterday, that I think travel is good, but tourism isn't. So, let me explain this. And I will put this here first: I am going to explain it on the example of Japan, because I know the most about what is happening there in terms of travel and tourism - and what issues arise from it.

See, I do think travelling to foreign places (whatever that means for you) is a good thing. Experiencing other cultures and interacting people who due to their culture have a very different outlook on life and the world is a good thing. Not only to move away from a certain worldview (which for white people tends to be an eurocentric one, and for Americans an US-centric one), it also fosters empathy to other people.

And I think of this dramatic thing especially when it comes to Americans travelling, who due to their lacking education system often do know jack shit about the rest of the world.

However: I do both think that the thing we right now call tourism does not really help, but actually does hinder this - and is harmful in many other ways.

Right now, foreign tourists are no longer allowed in Gion, the Geisha quarter of Kyoto. The reason for it is, that too many of them were fucking disrespectful. Some made photos of the Geisha without asking, some even touched the kimono and the hair of the Geisha. Some even got angry and started arguing, when people told them to not do this.

Especially when it comes to Kyoto I can think of a variet of other examples. People have carved their names into temples. People touched things that are not supposed to be touched (like idols). People otherwise behaved inappropriately, for example towards kannushi and mikos. Folks have bathed their feet in pools meant for ritual cleansing. There are a lot of examples of this.

And I think part of this goes back to two things. For one again eurocentrism and the way, that a lot of especially white folks to not perceive other cultures as real. But also, and maybe more importantly, the mindset that: "I have paid $1500 for this trip and I get to very well do what I want." The different culture in this mindset gets treated like a themepark, not as a place filled with real people, rather than performers there to enhance the tourist's experience.

Meanwhile the tourists generally are not really interested to interact with the other culture further than that. Which is also, why they tend to flock to the same few places, to all go make their own photo of the same place that a million people have photographed before - as compared to going exploring in a foreign place.

And in some cases - like Kyoto - this also leads to the fact that the local people often get pushed out of the places they actually live in.

A lot of people will often say: "Yeah, but it is great for their economy." Which... leaving my capitalism-hating-ideation aside for a moment... Well, actually it is not good and COVID showed us. Because it makes the economy totally depedent on tourism. In places that are heavily dependent on tourism, the sudden complete anihilation of tourism with the pandemic pushed those places further into a crisis than anywhere else. Heck, keeping it with Kyoto: Given a lot of folks had jobs related to the tourism industry and there were in fact not many other jobs, a lot of people found themselves forced to move away from Kyoto during the pandemic.

So while the entire "but economy" thing will seem true on a short term, it actually is not on the long term.

And that is without going into the environmental impact that comes from a lot of people flocking to certain places. This is shown especially in areas, where folks go for "nature", destroying nature while they do so. Because nature just cannot handle thousands upon thousands of people travelling through.

So, what do I mean with "travel, instead of tourism"? Well, frankly: Yes, you still go to other places. But - to keep with Japan - instead of going to Kyoto you might go to Morigushi or Beppo, and instead of touring from one temple and shrine to the next, you will just interact with the places and explore them. To actually experience them, rather than some preconscieved notion of what it is supposed to be. And you interact with the people.

And you learn. Because we all just need to learn about different people, different cultures and different places. Rather than just consuming them.

[qqueenofhades]

Is it normal that I’m legitimately so scared of saying pretty morally tame things like “I don’t want to talk about genocide because it makes me severely uncomfortable” or in general expressing my political opinion.

Like i’m not even kidding when I say that all my drafts are just my possibly offensive (probably not) political takes i’m just so scared of everyone leaving me it’s not even funny.

Anyway i also think that if you talk about Palestine but not Ukraine you are a victim of Russian Propaganda™️

I’m sorry I don’t know why i did this have a nice day ok baiiiiiii

Here's the thing. You and every other average social media user should not have to masquerade as a sudden in-depth expert on every single social, political, humanitarian, etc. crisis that we are dealing with in this wretchedly miserable excuse for a timeline. It should not be a baseline expectation on you that when you log onto your little social media in your little average life, you have to come up with The Correct Opinions on everything and if you don't, you're "perpetrating oppression" by not vigorously spreading misinformation, instead of simply admitting that you don't know what to do, you as an average citizen are not in a position of making this change and therefore don't actually have to spend every waking minute obsessing about it, and that maybe, just maybe, you'd like to spend more time informing yourself until and/or IF you decide you want to talk about it. This is the same as the Instagram Activists (TM) who traumatize themselves to the point of PTSD by constantly consuming torture and/or war porn and/or graphic content about murdered children because they "don't have the right to look away." Actually, you do. You are able to make choices to control your personal social media use and to set boundaries as to what you do and do not want to do and/or see, rather than insisting that the only moral choice is to literally mentally destroy yourself with all the weight of human suffering in the world and then expected to act as a de facto expert on all of it, on pain of being Cancelled. This is a stupid, irrational, unhealthy, and generally idiotic expectation. You should not have to take part in it. Nobody should.

Likewise, I think that this is a large part of why people are so scared to voice any opinion that goes against the Prevailing Groupthink: they are afraid of losing friends, of having nasty bad-faith internet trolls say mean things about them, being accused of being a "bad person," or otherwise being guilt-tripped, shamed, and blamed for not centering their entire existence around something that they cannot actually do anything about. Once again, people think the only way you can be Known to Oppose Something Problematic (tm) is if you post on social media about it all the time. Forget whatever you might be doing offline, in your real life, or otherwise; it "doesn't count" if you don't make a big virtuous display of your Rightthink, or you will be viciously harassed. Now, look, I am old and/or tired enough that I don't give a shit what stupid internet users say about me, but I can tell you that I sure did when I was younger, it was incredibly painful to be on the end of those kinds of attacks, and it's (again!) not something you should just have to expect as a baseline level of gaslighting and harassment. As I have said. This is Tumblr. It is a stupid blue website mostly for fandom and/or three in-jokes. This is not a platform where we are expected To Do Social Justice all the time, nor should it be. As for Elon Musk's Twitter: yeah. No.

Also: yes, if you do spend all your waking moments obsessing over Palestine, but say nothing whatsoever about Ukraine and/or openly support Russia, you are in fact very much a victim of Russian Propaganda and you 100% support genocide when it's done by an "anti-western" state that you support for that reason alone. You only care because you can use the cause to make yourself look morally superior, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with opposing genocide on a basic, universal, or fundamental level. The end.

(I hope you have a nice day too. The anger in this is not directed at you. I support everything you've said here and hope that you're able to set healthy boundaries and protect yourself.)

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

Request: I’m excited to see what you have written :) if you think it would be fun maybe you could do it for the lords of Gondolin like Glorfindel or Ecthelion? – @hermaeuswhora

A/N: Following my arranged marriage AU, this one has been structured differently since a few characters did not originate in Valinor. Galdor, Ecthelion, Egalmoth and Glorfindel were all written having their arrangements in Valinor upon their return/rebirth, while Rog and Maeglin had theirs transpiring in Gondolin.

Warning: arranged marriage, resentment, negligence, angst, loneliness, mentions of Maeglin pinning after his cousin, sprinkle of fluff and comfort for some

꒷꒦꒷Galdor꒷꒦꒷

Galdor's demeanour is marked by silence, a weighty silence that those around him cannot ignore, especially in the wake of the news. However, despite his wordless protest, his parents press on with the explanation of his impending marriage.

Confronting this crisis proves to be a perplexing challenge for Galdor. Having traversed the treacherous Helcaraxё, faced numerous wars, and endured the Fall of Gondolin, the third kinslaying, and the War of Wrath, he finds himself at a loss. The complexities of this situation elude him.

Nodding along to the exchanged words, Galdor's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts as everyone joyfully anticipates the forthcoming wedding. Even during the meeting where he first encounters you, he seems neither present nor absent, caught in a state of detachment.

While greeting you with respect and learning about you with nonchalance, Galdor's distant gaze is unmistakable. It's not meant as disrespect, but the prospect of an enforced marriage weighs heavily on anyone's sanity.

As the entire arrangement unfolds, transitioning into shared living and wedded life feels surreal to Galdor. Despite your animated discussions about future plans, his aloofness persists, absorbing your words without full comprehension.

Playing the role of a perfect husband, Galdor fulfils his duties diligently—strolls, teatimes, meals, social gatherings, festivals, and even family dinners—all executed in quiet compliance. Eventually, a moment of realization dawns on Galdor, prompting him to address the lack of sincerity that has quietly persisted in the background.

“Forgive me if this seems all too sudden, Y/N, but…my behaviour. While you may not have noticed the way I treat and respond to you—without earnestness—I fear that you do not deserve the way that I am currently. Please allow me to explain—all this, the arrangement. I have yet to grasp the true nature and because of that, I have not been true to you as I have been with myself. And because of this, I wish to start over.”

Your innocence is the reason why you've struggled to reconcile with his apparent lack of seriousness. Yet, you graciously dismiss his explanation, assuring him that he exceeds your expectations. Galdor experiences a mix of relief and concern, sensing that you may be overlooking the depth of emotion behind his actions.

However, with his newfound awareness, his role as your husband remains unchanged, yet now, his gestures carry a heightened emotional resonance. Every 'good morning, evening, noon, and night' carries a weight of significance. His smiles and laughter become more genuine, and conversations take on a deeper sense of purpose.

Galdor gradually comes to terms with the marriage dynamics, understanding that you had no say in the arrangement. Despite any reservations, he chooses not to express dissatisfaction, focusing instead on building a foundation of trust and comfort for your shared life together.

꒷꒦꒷Ecthelion꒷꒦꒷

Upon his joyous return to the Blessed Realm, marking the end of his long sojourn in Mandos, Ecthelion is swiftly met with unexpected news: the proclamation of his intended marriage. In the backdrop of his years of carefree existence in Beleriand, this revelation catches him entirely off guard.

The nobleman is plunged into a state of incredulous uproar, vehemently opposing his parents' wishes. However, his return to Valinor signifies his subjugation to his father's authority as the true Lord of the House of the Fountain. Despite Ecthelion's resistance, he finds himself reluctantly compelled to meet you and your parents.

While you, elated at the prospect of uniting with the renowned Lord Ecthelion, bask in the glory of his Middle Earth victories, he languishes in the waiting room, brooding like a disgruntled child. The entire encounter is marred by Ecthelion's rebellion against the terms negotiated between his parents and yours.

Concern begins to gnaw at you, fearing that the esteemed Lord you heard tales of in Middle Earth might be a façade. Ecthelion, harbouring no ill will towards you, unfortunately channels his distrust of his parents and frustration with yours through piercing glares directed at you.

Despite Ecthelion's fervent protests, both sets of parents remain indifferent, leaving the two of you alone in the waiting room to familiarize yourselves, while they withdraw to deliberate wedding arrangements.

Ecthelion maintains a frosty demeanour throughout, unable to muster the warmth required to mask his displeasure. His attempts at melting the ice are restrained, and he refrains from taking the conversational lead, leaving you to navigate the uneasy exchange.

“I apologise if I have insulted you in some way, Milord. It was not my intention to make you feel discomfort through this arrangement, but if it pleases you, I will do my best to limit our interactions to reduce the ambience this arrangement brings you.”

As your words reach him, a subtle twinge forms in his heart, though all he offers in response is a nod in your direction, a silent acknowledgment of your compassion.

Living with Ecthelion demands a mutual respect for privacy, ensuring that both of you have your own space. Shared breakfasts and mealtimes are a rarity, occurring only if you manage to catch him at the opportune moment; otherwise, you'll find yourself dining alone. Much of your time will be spent in solitude, interrupted only by occasional check-ins to ensure your comfort is consistently met.

Despite his reserved nature, rest assured that Ecthelion strives to convey essential matters regarding the household or family. While he harbours resentment for the forced marriage, he recognizes his duty to fulfil the basic role of a husband in meeting your needs.

In the public eye, Ecthelion maintains a façade of unity, well aware that the whispers of Valinor surround your union. Whether at events or social gatherings, his pride compels him to wear a smile and engage in polite chatter with you on his arm, concealing the fact that the icy distance between you two remains intact.

꒷꒦꒷Glorfindel꒷꒦꒷

Upon his return to the Blessed Realm after years in Middle Earth, his parents warmly greet him, unveiling the surprising news of an ongoing arranged marriage. Glorfindel, caught off guard, contemplates whether to respond with a forced laugh or unleash a string of profanities at this unexpected revelation. Without hesitation, he turns to his father, demanding clarity in an instant.

Much to Glorfindel's chagrin, the reality of an arranged marriage for the esteemed young Lord becomes apparent upon his return. As the true Lord of his house, his father's authority leaves Glorfindel with limited options, compelling him to voice his protests and seek his mother's intervention, given the deep respect he holds for them.

This incarnation of Glorfindel is far from the merry and radiant being known during his time in Middle Earth. You who were acquainted with tales of Lord Glorfindel's past, witness a stark contrast. He avoids direct eye contact, concealing his anger and ensuring you are shielded from its full force.

His resentment is not directed at you, but rather at the arrangement orchestrated by both sets of parents. Despite his inner turmoil, Glorfindel endeavours to maintain composure in your presence, reserving his desire to flip tables and shatter glass for moments when you are not around. For now, he remains outwardly passive.

It's evident that he grapples with inner turmoil whenever you are nearby. Despite his sincere efforts, tension underscores his actions. The façade, crafted to sustain a smooth relationship given his dispute with both sets of parents, endures for a considerable duration before finally unravelling.

“I’m sorry! I truly believed that I could hold out while upkeeping this façade, but it has done more harm than good. Please do not believe that I hold something against you, it’s our parents. I know that you’re a lovely person to be around and do not deserve this lowly behaviour from me, so I wish to apologise and seek forgiveness while wishing to start anew. Perhaps with a friendship?”

While you may have hoped for a more immediate romantic connection, Glorfindel's desire to start as friends is a thoughtful approach, far preferable to the prospect of a sudden end, as you've heard in others' experiences. Throughout the relationship, Glorfindel consistently strives to be amiable and reliable, ensuring a solid foundation.

Glorfindel remains steadfast in controlling his temper, especially when his parents scrutinize your relationship. His commitment is not just to appear perfect but to genuinely be the best arranged husband possible.

As seasons turn, you witness the side of Lord Glorfindel that has captivated Middle Earth. Your days are infused with humour and comfort, and should you desire more of his company, it is readily available.

Throughout your marriage, Glorfindel is attuned to your needs, adjusting his actions to bring you comfort. Whether you seek space, a new garden, an expanded house, or simply wish to deepen your connection, he willingly embraces and supports your desires.

꒷꒦꒷Egalmoth꒷꒦꒷

Tables are being flipped and profanities are leaving his mouth in a swirl of furry. He can’t believe, despite how grown he is and all the things he has faced on his own in life, his parents still wish to dictate his love-life with an arrangement. He knew such acts were popular among the royal family, never suspecting that he would be subjected to the trend.

Egalmoth refuses to submit so lowly to allow someone to select a spouse for him to spend his eternal peace with. The power he once held as a Lord to Kings in Middle Earth is stripped away as he returned as the son of a Lord who he must abide to.

The room takes on an unprecedented chill, surpassing even the biting cold of winter. During the meeting, as your parents bask in their satisfaction, Egalmoth directs a piercing glare at the table, as if intent on searing holes into its surface.

Despite your attempts to bridge the gap and quell the fiery tension, Egalmoth remains steadfast in maintaining distance. His demeanour and actions are unyielding, operating on a frequency of self-satisfaction that defies your attempts to find common ground.

The living arrangement entails cohabiting with a virtual stranger; it's akin to sharing a dwelling with a spectre. Greetings are reduced to mere "good morning" and "good night," a routine destined to persist. Even the entreaties of fellow Lords fall on deaf ears as they endeavour to persuade him to give the relationship a chance.

Frustration mounts as Egalmoth actively avoids you, seemingly going to great lengths to dodge encounters that are not of your making. Despite your earnest efforts to cultivate some semblance of acquaintance, he prefers to exist as a ghost, perpetuating an unsettling distance between you.

“You seem to believe that I had something to do with this arrangement when I didn’t know who you were until your arrival. I hate it just as much as you do, so face it! We’re stuck like this unless you wish to separate which you can. I don’t know what’s holding you back, but I’m trying to make things bearable and you’re not helping. I’m tired, so please…just tell me you don’t want me around…”

Egalmoth was taken aback when he witnessed the tears welling up in your eyes in response to his distant demeanour. Though he never intended to inflict pain through his communication style, he found himself inadvertently doing so, leaving him feeling regretful and remorseful. His initial goal was to avoid forming deep emotional attachments, not to cause you distress.

Despite his reluctance to fully embrace the role of a husband to someone not of his choosing, Egalmoth recognizes the need to bridge the emotional gap between you two. While he maintains a certain level of distance in his affections and gestures, he is committed to projecting a more approachable and interactive persona whenever circumstances allow. One tangible step in this direction is sharing daily breakfasts and lunches with you.

Over time, Egalmoth acknowledges the importance of overcoming his reservations and investing more freely in your relationship. He endeavours to set aside his differences and foster an environment where a meaningful connection can thrive. Realizing that accepting the role of a husband may require an extended period, he opts to first establish a foundation as a supportive friend before gradually navigating the complexities of marital ties.

꒷꒦꒷Rog꒷꒦꒷

The giant craftsman is confused at the words spilling from the lips of his advisor since Gondolin was a place of freedom. Having come from a rough background and learning about the Noldor culture, he felt like this was a contradiction, but obliges after they informed him it was frequently practiced.

Rog patiently meets his future spouse and their parents, wanting to go along with the arrangement as he complies with the customs of the Noldor. It does not come as a surprise the first time you meet the giant blacksmith; he is as gentle as ever and makes you feel welcomed. It’s your parents who treats the union as automatic boost in society.

As much as Rog wasn’t interested in getting married, the choice he was offered made his idea on the situation flip. You didn’t appear snobbish or greedy for power which made him all the more open to accepting to court you and proceed with a wedding eventually.

This being his first relationship, he is cautious to not mess anything up and pray that this marriage would be successful. He listens to all your needs and wants, going out of his way to fulfil them as best as he could. At times, he would turn to the other Lords, as unwedded as they are, for guidance.

The only thing Rog doesn’t like is addressing you in conversations as his arranged spouse or his spouse he earned through an arrangement. It never dawned on him the stain it would leave on your title when he agreed to wed you. Now he makes sure to never allow the terms ‘arranged’ to be used when addressing you. It makes him wish you two could have met another way because it’s a constant reminder how you were both forced.

“It never occurred to me how much I would come to despise the term ‘arranged’ when referring to you. I’ve grown fonder of you day by day as this marriage progresses. But rest assured, you have nothing to fear when it comes to our love. That, to shall grow stronger for you as the days wield overhead.”

You truly have no issues or quarrels with Rog through your entire marriage. As the Lady/Lord of his house, you will be spoilt endlessly with riches from his crafts that others may be jealous at the lavish life you are living and how dearly your husband spoils you rotten.

Attending dinners the other Lords hosted will be extended to you and even they would warmly welcome you as their friend’s spouse. Gifts would be exchanged, along with praises and jokes that their gentle-giant friend married before them, and he needed to teach them his tricks.

You don’t have anything to fear when it comes to your future with Rog. Out of all the Lords, even Glorfindel, Rog is most open to the idea and content with progressing things to truly become a happy couple, forgoing the friendship stage.

꒷꒦꒷Maeglin꒷꒦꒷

Maeglin is confused and in a silent outrage because you were not the person he wanted to end up in a relationship with from the very start. His true desire was his cousin, and after being aware of this, his uncle chose to construct an arranged marriage to deter his focus on another person.

This isn’t going to be one of those ‘his heart turned from her to you to moment he saw you’ situation because his desire will continue to focus on his cousin, and it will be displayed through his protests when his uncle summons you all for a gathering to offer the arrangement.

Your parents are pleased since Maeglin is the King’s heir and by marrying him, it would make you a royal, so immediate status boost. You on the other hand have been aware of the Prince’s interest for another and already understood your position throughout this marriage whether you were for or against it. Your entire life would become nothing more than being his spouse with a title while he lusts after someone else.

Deep down, he has it somewhere that you are apart of this arrangement to sway his focus. Makes him distant and negligent all the more. You can try to reach out and pacify the situation for him to pardon your presence, but it doesn’t even make sense because Maeglin had never accepted you as his spouse.

To him, you’re like a guest living in his house after he was forced by his uncle to make your stay comfortable—which he does for the basic commodities. If you want to have a difference made, take it up with the King, but even he doesn’t have a say in the privacies of a married couple.

 However, Turgon does his best to ensure that you and Maeglin are allowed to spend more time together in hopes of building a relationship. You and Maeglin would be invited to dinners, balls and festivals as a couple in hopes of something blossoming. However, any conversations would have to be created by you, even when the other Lords congratulate you both or initiate conversations, it’s you doing most of the talking.

“My Prince, might we speak? I know that your focus lies elsewhere and I am not here to sway if you think so. All I wish is simply to live a peaceful life as your spouse until my presence is no longer required…I don’t know how long that would be. But perhaps during my time under your household, we can be well acquainted with one another a little more?”

It is an internal struggle in his mind to acknowledge your words because he doesn’t know if this is a trick where he would end up gaining interest or if you were being genuine. He was so focused on lusting after his cousin that your attempts at making your time with him bearable were shot down.

Maeglin truly doesn’t know at this point whether to shift focus onto you during your time with him or to let you go because he believes that you would continue to be hurt if you stayed at his side.

Masterlist

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[needle-noggins]

Since you are oc pilled.. what can you tell us about Fanny? I'd love to hear all about them!

OH FANNY MY BELOVED FANNY?

So. Frances Paine (Fanny Paine. pain in my fuckin' ass) is my beloved Trigun OC for a ttrpg I'm in. You have have seen me tag things as #gunsmoked; that's the game. Fanny is a thomas rancher by trade. She grew up in Hopeland. Her best friend, a girl from the orphanage named Nova, went away when they were 12. Nova got shipped off to the Eye of Michael and sent Fanny letters about how bad it was until the letters just... stopped. Fast forward 20 years. Fanny left Hopeland, starting ranching Thomases in a little town called Gunpoint. Killed her husband (backstory) when she found out he was trafficking kids for the Eye of Michael. I wrote a little thing for it.

Within the span of game.... well, Fanny has done some truly buckwild shit. First thing she did in the game was punch the mayor's boytoy so bad that the local gang burned her house down. She helped rescue another character's brother (it's amnesiac Millions fucking Knives) and in the process killed the mayor. Who ended up also being the gang leader. It was Brilliant Dynamites Neon.

Fanny in that moment became the town mayor and the leader of the Bad Lads gang. Like, okay!!?!? OKAY! After grappling with the extremely sudden new responsibility, she discovered that the neighboring town was a front for the EOM. She and her best friend, another sad cowboy named Charlie, went to fuck up the EOM base and quickly discovered they were outgunned and outmanned. It did not go well. Also, Fanny ran into her childhood friend Nova in there. Nova didn't recognize her. Come to find out Nova didn't remember her. At all. Cue Fanny panic. Fanny gets another character, a plant scientist named Aggie, to give Nova the old childhood letters. Aggie, love her dearly, decided to do this in the most unhinged way and just scatter letters around Nova's office for her to get jump-scared by emotions while doing her job. This also did not go well. I mean, it worked, but... Nova went apeshit. Murder mode angry.

Some fuckshit happens, the Eye takes over Gunpoint. Fanny and Charlie shenanigans continue (RIP Knife's beautiful tank), and they try to take back the town but Fanny gets a little too obsessed with making Nova remember her and she's on a suicide mission about it, actually. Because Nova is freaking out that she can't remember this person and is trying to kill Fanny. Fanny almost gets shot with a punisher laser just as Charlie shoots Nova, saving her life but putting Nova in grave danger. We discover Nova is part cyborg, now in a robo-coma, and it takes about a week in-game to find the parts to fix her. Fanny spends this entire time just losing her goddamn mind about it. She may be a little bit gay for Nova. Maybe. Perhaps. But absolutely obsessive.

Nova gets fixed and comes to, bounces, Fanny has a mental crisis about it but realizes she can't fix her childhood friend. Still wants to kiss her, though. But the party has got bigger plans, like saving the world, first. And she still has responsibilities to be, ya know, the town mayor and Bad Lads leader.

Fanny is an absolute idiot, chaotic as hell, with the second-highest known body count in the party (Tesla did July; hard to top that. Knife is a new man so his past crimes don't count. Wolfwood has not told us shit about himself). She wears some Orville Peck-esque Neon Cowboy shit. Her thomas is named Cash, after Johnny Cash. Her gun was her momma's and it's an ornate little thing. She thinks half of being a cowboy is about the drip (she's right). She's a coward, she can't hurt people she cares about - even when they're threatening to kill her. She means well, she's actually not half-bad at being a leader because she's compassionate, but she's impulsive and has no self-confidence. She cannot catch a fucking break. She's hopelessly in love with her childhood best friend, she blames herself for everything that happened to Nova, she thinks she failed her by not following her to the Eye at the age of 12. She's a small town girl who is finally realizing that the world is so much bigger than her small town drama, and other people have some much bigger problems. She's can be condescending and controlling, but she's also nurturing and wants to help. She's insulting and doesn't know how to comfort others, but she's loyal to the death. She just wants to save everyone. She cannot take her own damn advice. She is extremely accidentally Vash-coded. When I play her she and her goofy-ass southern accent just take over and I don't know half the shit I say. I adore her and the absolute disaster she is. She compels me SO much.

[maddheaven]

Yandere RE: Fake Husband Leon Kennedy Pt. 2

[WARNING: Angst, use of drugs for 'memories' sakes, mental breakdown ect. (If there is anything that might've triggered that I didn't put in, please let me know)]

RE4 Leon would be about the same even if you guys didn't meet before with a few differences:

More than likely, he would've done it after he's saved you and Ashley, possibly when you are either knocked out cold or they drugged you.

It would also be a little bit harder to fake, given the lack of pictures and, most importantly, a ring, but he could just make up a story that you two lost all that when the outbreak happened in Racoon City.

Now if you two did meet before, then continuing from the RE2 Leon:

Life would've gone on fairly normal for you guys, nothing too out of the ordinary.

You never got all your memories back, only a few hazy ones and some horrible nightmares that often jerk you awake in a cold sweat.

Leon, like he promised, was with you the entire way.

Taking care of you, comforting you, making sure you take your pills.

Everything was fine.

Until it was not…

Those memories have to resurfaced eventually, and there are two ways I can think that would happen:

➔ Leon has to fly out to Spain for a mission (he doesn't talk about what he does specifically, he doesn't want your pretty little head to worry about him) and leaves you all alone. Then, for the first time ever since you lost your memories, you forgot to take your pills and slowly, day by day, you started to regain your memories.

OR

➔ You get kidnapped and throughout the rest of your torturous time being held captive by this crazed village cult, trying to keep the president's daughter safe, your memories slowly come back.

Whichever happens, by the time you meet Leon, you are going through a major existential crisis and you're pissed!

"You piece of shit!" You yell.

Leon dodges the chair thrown at him like it was nothing, stunned and confused at your sudden outburst.

"Hon, what's wrong? Are you alright..? It's me! Leon-!"

"I know who you are!" You cut in, grabbing another chair. "And I know we aren't married - we never were!" You shouted, puncturing your words by launching the chair at him.

Leon caught it with ease, letting out a sigh, a deep scowl on his face - the jig is up.. and at the worst moment too…

"Sweetheart.. can we talk about it-"

"Oh! And these!" You ripped the cabinets open, grabbing one of the many pills stored away for the sake of 'helping' with your memory. You turned around, gripping the bottle as you glared harshly at your so-called husband. "These don't help with my memory.. - they prevent me from remembering." You slammed the pills down, hard enough for the cap to pop off and for all the contents to spill out. "Every. Single. One - all bullshit!" You threw all the pill bottles out one by one, your rage bubbling up and overflowing until you opted to just clear them out the cabinet.

At this point, Leon had enough and he grabs you from behind, ripping you away from the cabinet. "Babe.. let's.. talk.. about this!" He grunted. "No! Don't touch me! Let.. go!" You struggled against his strength, trying to squeeze out from under his arms but Leon only tightened his hold.

The more you struggled, the harder Leon kept his grasp. Eventually, the frustration and anger of having been lied to your whole life builds up in your eyes, your struggles growing weaker and weaker until you both fall to the floor against the wall. Leon comforted you, assuring you that 'everything is gonna be fine,' that 'he'll help you through this.' But you saw right through the act. "You're a liar.." you sobbed, your struggling going cold, now just crying as you let your captor hold you. "You lied about everything.. you used me.." You whimpered. "You're a monster..."

Leon's breath hitches.

Out of everything you've said so far, this one punctured the hardest.

It was his turn to cry; the tears bubbled up in his tired baby blue eyes, a knot forming in his throat.

He clutched you closer to him, trying to push down the tightness threatening to break out of his chest. "I'm sorry…" was all he could say. "I.. I had to.. I couldn't let you go.." you sobbed harder as he hid his face in your neck.

"You're all I have…."

[monstersinthecosmos]

okay I wanna talk about how Marius & Lestat are such similar people both in the sense of their personalities & behaviors but also the way they were turned and I keep coming back to this quote in BCtu:

So let me begin the narrative on a night when Marius, the ancient Roman Child of the Millennia, in a fit of pique became impatient with what he referred to as my “nauseating buoyancy and optimism” about the world in general.

I keep coming back to the thought that something divides them here, the big thing that they DON'T share is the optimism. Marius finds it nauseating! Part of this is like, the 1800 year age gap, so I always have to wonder like what that does to him and ask if Lestat will have calmed down even a little by the time he's that age. But it's hard to know how much is innate, and how much is locked in place by the Blood anyway, and how capable any of them are of real change. But I think it has a lot to do with the way they were each turned, and the immediate aftermath, and how Marius's life was basically instantly burdened with something enormous that caused him pain for 2,000 years. It feels more like, although they have so much in common, Marius is essentially sort of a pessimist, even though he likes to pretend he isn't.

“Lestat, you are the damnedest creature! Yes, a brat prince.” Slowly, he reinvoked every detail of Lestat’s face and form. The ice-blue eyes, darkening with laughter; the generous smile; the way the eyebrows came together in a boyish scowl; the sudden flares of high spirits and blasphemous humor. Even the catlike poise of the body he could envisage. So uncommon in a man of muscular build. Such strength, always such strength and such irrepressible optimism.

Anyway I bring it up because I was thinking a lot about how Marius ALSO has a drive for creative expression, but tends to spend his entire immortal life loathing his nature and feeling like he isn't allowed to be a part of the human world. Like this part about how he destroys all of his writing:

But then there came nights when I thought that everything I'd written was useless. After all, what was the purpose? I could not enter these descriptions, these observations, these poems, these essays, into the mortal world! They were contaminated in that they came from a blood drinker, a monster who slew humans for his own survival. There was no place for the poetry or history which had come from a greedy mind and heart. And so I began to destroy not only my fresh writings, but even the old essays which I had written in Antioch in the past. I took the scrolls out of the chests one by one and burnt them as I had burnt the records of my family. Or I merely kept them, locked up tight, and away from my eyes, so that nothing I'd written could spark in me anything new. It was a great crisis of the soul.

And this part about his paintings:

Always, there was that sense of familiarity - that I had seen this garden that I had known it long before I was allowed by Akasha to drink her blood. I had seen the stone benches in it, I had seen the fountains. I couldn't shake the sensations of being in it as I painted, so strong was the feeling. I'm not sure it aided me in my work. Perhaps it hurt. But as I gained skill as a painter, and I did indeed gain skill, other aspects of the work disturbed me. I was convinced that there was something unnatural in it, something inherently ghastly in the manner with which I drew human figures so nearly perfectly, something unnatural in the way I made the colors so unusually bright, and added so many fierce little details. I was particularly repelled by my penchant for decorative details. As much as I was driven to do this work, I hated it. I composed whole gardens of lovely mythic creatures only to rub them out. Sometimes I painted so fast that I exhausted myself, and fell down on the floor of the shrine, spending the paralytic sleep of the whole day there, helpless, rather than going to my secret resting place - my coffin - which was hidden not far from my house. We are monsters, that is what I thought whenever I painted or looked on my own painting, and that's what I think now. Never mind that I want to go on existing. We are unnatural. We are witnesses with both too much and too little feeling. And as I thought these things, I had before me the mute witnesses, Akasha and Enkil. What did it matter to them what I did?

But it's still something he feels he NEEDS to do, he has to appease his creative drive so that he can survive.

But now I took stock of them from my point of view not as Marius the rich man who can have whatever he wishes, but as Marius the monster painter who had rendered Pandora twenty-one times on the four walls of Akasha's shrine. I saw suddenly how inferior were these paintings, how rigid and pallid the goddesses and nymphs who peopled this world of my study, and quickly I woke my day slaves and told them that they must have everything covered over with fresh paint the following day. Also an entire supply of the best paints must be purchased and brought to the house. Never mind how the walls were to be redecorated. Leave that to me. Cover up all that was there. They were used to my eccentricities, and after making certain that they understood me, they went back to their sleep. I didn't know what I meant to do, except I felt driven to make pictures, and I felt if I can cling to that, if I can do that, then I can go on. My misery deepened.

This was a lot to copy & paste, apologies! But all of this stuck out to me as I've been thinking about the ways Marius and Lestat are both creative people who need to make things. With Lestat it was his music, and then his books. ((Also a sidenote but there were so many of Anne's journal entries that I saw at Tulane where she kept saying things like "I need to write stories" !)) Imagine if he'd felt Marius's shame and pessimism and had the foresight to destroy his work or to keep it private. And imagine if Marius's manic creative episodes had happened in the 1980s when it was instantly global and breaching containment to the detriment of vampire kind!

At this point in the book Marius is around 300 years old, so not that far off from Lestat. But he's still young and raw and emotionally dysregulated ! It's just fascinating that Lestat lived in a time where he couldn't just undo what he created.

[kemendin]

Chapter II: One Crisis at a Time

When a critical mission for the Empire goes wrong, MALAVAI QUINN and LORD KHEL SUTEK find themselves lost behind enemy lines in the inhospitable ice-wilds of ILUM. With only each other to rely on, and their recently-formed relationship still relatively untested, the strain of survival under such circumstances is bound to cause a few cracks. But for two men with life-long tendencies towards walling themselves away - perhaps a few cracks are just what they need in order to start sharing things they’ve long kept inside.

Malavai Quinn x Light Side Sith Warrior Words: 8900/?? A/N: Yeahhhh so it's been a hot (er, cold, rather) minute since I updated this, apologies! I fell into the BG3 hole and that's been taking up most of my writing brain. Also life's just been A Lot so I haven't been writing as much overall, much to my sadness. But here we are! Progress!

Read on AO3 (short excerpt below cut)

He must have been out for only a few moments, because the mountain was still shuddering around Malavai as he coughed and groaned and coughed again. He lay there for a moment, trying to take stock of himself. His body felt bruised all over - it probably was - but experimental movement told him his limbs were intact. Gingerly he felt at his head, and found a tender spot that made him flinch when he touched it. It didn’t seem to be bleeding, but then it was difficult to tell through his hat and gloves.

And then another thought asserted itself, instantly driving his own condition from his mind.

Khel. Khel!

Quinn scrambled onto all fours, looking about wildly; but his surroundings were nearly pitch dark now and his flashlight was gone, presumably torn from his hand in the collapse. 

“Khel?” he called shakily. “Khel!” But there was no reply.

His head threatened to spin, and he pulled in several rapid lungfuls of the freezing air. Calm, he told himself sternly, above rising panic. Stay calm, stay focused, think -

He began to crawl forward through the thick, settling silence, feeling blindly around him for the missing flashlight as part of him braced to encounter something softer. After a few moments his stiffened hands stumbled across an object lying on the ground not far away - a short, narrow cylinder of metal.

A lightsaber.

He snatched it up with a renewed surge of fear. Khel would never have willingly discarded the weapon - it must have been yanked from his belt in the blast.

Quinn slid his thumb towards the switch - but then abruptly he dithered, instead turning the hilt over in his hands. While there was no strict regulation against a non-Force sensitive using a lightsaber - frankly there didn’t need to be, any ordinary individual was more likely to cut their own limbs off than wield a lightsaber effectively - Quinn’s own peculiarity of mind had always been that he was…well, unworthy of such a magnificent weapon. 

But the urgency of the situation was clawing at him, and his flashlight appeared to be a lost cause. So reluctantly - and very, very carefully - Quinn ignited the blade in his hand. 

The sudden flare of white-gold in the black surroundings nearly blinded him. He squinted harshly, averting his gaze for a moment as he held the lightsaber at arm’s length and gingerly swept it around, using it to illuminate the area. 

The scene was grim: the passage was entirely collapsed only a dozen or so metres behind him, an impenetrable blockade of ice and rock. And there, at the edge of the rubble -

“KHEL!”

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked - Chapter 4

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

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Previous: Luke’s Gonna Kill Me - Leighton

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 4 ~ Being Captain Sucks ~ Andy 

The last eight weeks have been the worst and best weeks of my life. Dealing with betrayal and heartbreak is the worst.  Or so I thought. When I invited Leia to come live with me, I didn’t think it would be torturous.  Do you know what women sleep in when they aren’t your girlfriend? A shirt and what must be the tiniest shorts known to man. It's taken everything to hide the hard-on I get when I see her every morning.  Thank fuck we have separate hotel rooms, or my cock would never get a break.  

Don’t get me wrong.  I fucking love that she lives with me and I get to see what I get to see. I just wish I could see it as her man.  

I’m whipped for this girl and I don’t even have her.  

Boarding the plane to California should have been simple. I helped Luke with Leia’s bag and then chatted as we climbed in. Normal. Except when our backup goalie, Jeremy Swayman stops to chat with Leia. She is smiling but looks confused. She must know that all the single guys on the team are aware of the change in status for her. As much as I love Luke, i wanted to strangle him for spilling those beans.  

I see Stella get on board and sigh in relief when Leia spots her and dismisses Swayman.  She looked over at me and I quickly changed my face to a smile. When she turns back around, I glare at Swayman.  

“You ok man? You look like you want to punch something,” Luke says as he pulls out his headphones.  

Fuck, i don’t need him to be losing his shit. “Yeah, just got a message from Fiona. Claiming she didn’t get everything.”  

“Like what?” 

“Who the fuck knows man. She’s insane.” Luke grunts in agreement and a crisis is averted. I sit back but keep my eyes on Leia.  At some point, i snoozed but then jerk awake when we hit turbulence.  I see Leia is in her seat, her head on Stella’s shoulder and I assume she’s asleep.  Well, at least I can rest now.  

When we touch down in San Jose, all of the guys want to hit the hotel bar for a quick drink to relax after the flight.  Luke had invited the girls but they declined and headed up. Leia gives her brother a kiss on the cheek and a hug, gives me a hug and waves to the other guys.  All of them say bye, Swayman’s eyes linger as she walks away.  I grind my teeth in an effort to keep my mouth shut.  

Yes, ok, I have the caveman mentality that Leia is mine, even if she’s not. She’s a beauty with long dark honey colored hair and green eyes that look like emeralds. She petite but her curves are the stuff women dream about. My dreams have been about my hands on those curves. I shake my head and return to the conversations around me.  

“So Andrews, what is going on with your sister?” Swayman asks. I’m on instant alert. 

Luke wrinkles his eyebrows.  “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, she’s single now.”  

Luke’s face became hard. “Yes, and she’s going to stay that way for a while.”  

I love my best friend. 

“But she lives with Barber.” he points out.  

Ah fuck.  

Luke looks at me and I shrug, having no idea where this is headed. “So what? Is that a problem?” 

Jeremy looks from me to Luke and back before saying, “never mind. All I was saying is that I would like to ask her out.”  

No, fuck no.  This can’t be happening.  

Luke smiled. “Sure, ask her out.  I would love to see the teardown she gives you.” He laughs and I laugh with him.  But I know Jeremy Swayman is a handsome guy that would be totally Leia’s type. I’m going to have to talk to her to make sure she says no.  

I woke up the next morning, irritated to all hell at everyone and everything.  I know it's because of the turn of events yesterday with Jeremy but I need to not dwell on that. We have a game tonight and I need to focus.  But first, I need to tackle the hunger I am feeling.  I headed into the hotel cafe and saw two of my favorite people already sitting down.  At least I can sit next to Leia and enjoy the smell of her shampoo and perfume combo that make me ecstatic.  

As I approach the table, I can see that Leia’s eyes are red-rimmed. I frown and worry that douchebag Bret had reached out. I make it over in time to hear, “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Andy.” 

“Tell me what?” Leia jumps at the sound of my voice and knocks a knee into the table. “Are you ok?”  

“I’m fine,” she groaned. “Son of a bitch, that hurt.” She rubs her right knee.  I made her scoot over and I rubbed her knee. She sighs a little and then jolts as if she remembered something.  

“Now that I have cured your knee, what’s going on? What is it you aren’t sure how to tell me?” I smile at her as I throw my arm behind her.  

“Nothing, it's nothing. I just..”. she hesitates for a second. “It's just, I wasn’t sure if you knew what Jeremy’s deal was. He’s been acting weird, and I wasn’t sure if you knew, and I didn’t know how to ask. I mean, I can’t ask my brother, or he’ll assume shit and...” 

“Princess, take a breath,” I tell her, cutting her off.  She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Ok, yes, Jeremy was asking to confirm if you are single. Luke told him he could ask because he thought you would turn him down.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. A warning, if you will, so she knows I want her to say no.  

“Oh,” she chews her bottom lip. “I mean, if I was in the right head space, I would probably say yes but I just have a lot going on with the business and work.” She nudges me, “you know right? I wouldn’t be able to give myself 100% to someone else and that’s not fair.”  

God is smiling down on me today. I give her my million-watt smile. “Of course, Princess. And if anyone else doesn’t understand that, then they don’t deserve you.”  

“Thanks Andy.” She smiles and leans her head on my shoulders. It's something so natural to us. But when I look around the restaurant, I see Swayman staring at us, and I can’t help but let my trademark smirk fly.  

Barber: 1 – Swayman: 0 

We finished the road trip on a high with a win in Vancouver. Ten days along the West Coast was hard enough but dealing with Swayman as he threw daggers at me was tougher. We had to be a team on the ice but that didn’t mean we weren’t rivals off it.  I didn’t treat Leia any differently than before but just doing that pissed Swayman off.  

“You should talk to Swayman,” Luke said as we boarded the plane back to Boston.  

“Why?” Playing dumb had been my saving grace this trip.  

“Because something is wrong with him and it's messing with his head.” Luke turned to look at something behind him, but I didn’t. No need to draw attention that I wanted to avoid.  

“He won both of his games,” I pointed out.  

“Because the rest of the team was pulling more than their weight.  Andy,” he sighed, “you have to talk to him.  You’re the captain.”  

I sighed in frustration.  “Fine. I’ll talk to him once we are in the air.”  I took my seat and pulled out my headphones.  I watched Leia get on board and sit with Stella as normal. My girl looked a little pale, probably from lack of sleep.  Sleeping in hotel rooms night after night is not as glamourous as people think it is.  Some beds are just down right awful. Except the one where I had Leia in my arms.  That douche Bret had called her drunk while we were in Seattle. She didn’t want to tell her brother, so she cried in my arms. I rarely see Leia cry anymore. She tries to act tough, like a business owner.  But for some reason, Bret really got to her and that just made me want to pummel the shit out of him.  

The thoughts of a crying Leia kept me distracted for about an hour.  Then Luke nudged me and cocked his head toward Swayman.  Fuck, I did not what to do this but when I agreed to be captain, I knew this would come with the territory.  I walked down the aisle and patted Ullmark on the shoulder.  He looked up and nodded, giving up his seat next to Swayman.  

Jeremy was looking out the window, book in his lap. I checked the title. “Stop Over Thinking” Well, if there was ever a book I needed Leia to read, it was that one. I sighed.  “Can we talk, Swayman?” 

“Got nothing to say.” He’s tone was bland.  He wasn’t upset or angry.  Just resigned. That’s good, I guess.  Good for my chances with Leia but not good if he wanted to keep our season going.  

“Are you sure? Because when my assistant captains and goaltenders tell me I have to talk to one of my teammates, I think it's something serious.”  I turned and look at him.  “Talk to me.”  

“I can’t.”  

“Why not?” 

“Because it's about you.”  He finally looked at me and I could see the fury behind his eyes.  He was holding back.  That’s a good thing on a plane.  But bad for his mental health.  I’m a firm believer in taking care of the body and the mind. A full rounded healthy person is better than one who is physically fine but mentally shitting the bricks.  

“So, tell me as if you’re not telling me.  Talk to me like I’m your best friend, listening to whatever crap is going on inside your head.  I don’t care if you say shit about me right now.  You have five minutes of free hits to me.”  

Jeremy studied me to see if I was joking.  I wasn’t. I knew he needed to get it out before he exploded everywhere.  “I like her, and you are just in the way.  She’s your best friend but I can’t help but think there is something more going on.  And its killing me because I’ve liked her for so long. She was with that pansy boy for forever and I finally get the courage to say something to her and, she...” he sighed “...she was just all over you.  And then I feel like a dick because I told her that I wanted to get a drink but then avoided her the rest of the trip.”  

Ah fuck. Why did I let him get five minutes in? Now I'm feeling guilty that I made him feel like he wasn’t worth it. It didn’t mean I didn’t want him to stay away from my girl, but I should at least let her let him down gently.  “Look man, she got a call from her ex, and he was a dickweasel to her. She needed to cry, and she can’t exactly go to her brother for fear of him going nuclear.” His eyes opened in surprise. But I said my piece.  “She’s feeling better and if you hurt her, we are going to have so many problems.  Yes, she’s my best friend but I don’t think she sees me any differently.”  

“So, I can...” 

I swallowed what felt like cotton in my throat. “Just be careful, ok?  She doesn’t need the drama.”  

Jeremy nodded and studied me again. “Thanks Captain.”  

I patted his shoulder and got up to go back to my seat. As Ullman moved back to his seat, I saw Leia getting up to go to the bathroom and my heart clenched. All I could hope for now is that she saw me, really saw me and she chose me in the end.  

But if Swayman was what she wanted, I would support her every day.  

Even if it killed me.  

Barber: 1 – Swayman: 1 

Its around 4 AM when we touched down in Boston.  Leia is fast asleep in her seat, clutching her stuffed cow that she carries when she gets nervous.  I gave it to her a few years ago when I won it at a fair. She named the damn thing “Sebastian.”  Why, you ask?  Because of some stupid Sebastian Stan video about what the moo cow says.  I chuckle as I look at her. She’s still mine and Luke’s baby girl.  I bend over to pick her up in my arms and move careful off the plane.  

Luke looks up surprised when he sees me in her arms.  “What the...” 

“Shh,” I told him.  “She looked pale when she boarded so I didn’t want to wake her.  Just help me get her to the car.” I move quickly but softly to my SUV and place her into the seat and strap her in. Luke loads our bag. 

“You got her?” he asks me. I nod and he kisses her forehead, frowns and closes her door.  

“Yeah, i got her.  Just gonna get her into bed.”  

“Yeah, I would get some ibprofen ready for her.  She feels like she’s running a little bit of a fever.”  He gives me a hug and heads over to where Miranda is waiting for him.  I smile at that.  It would be nice to have my woman waiting for me when I got home from a long trip.  I sigh and walk over to the driver side, nodding at Jeremy as he walks by.  I climb in and head to our home.  

Leia’s still dead to the world when I take her in. I get her under the covers, chuckle at that stupid cow and put it into her arms.  I kiss her forehead, feeling how warm she is. “Love you Princess,” I whisper when I leave water and pills by her bed. My heart still hurts from my conversation with Jeremy, so I linger in her room. I stare at the woman who has stolen my heart.  I just want her to choose me.  But I guess I would have to throw my hat in the ring first.  I resolved to talk to her in the morning.  

I wake up to the sounds of someone throwing up. Groaning, I know its Leia. She must have the stomach flu.   I scrub my face of sleep before i get up to check on her.  “Princess?” 

“Go away, Andy.”  

I frown as I hear her retch again and I try the door. “Leia, let me in.”  

I hear her whimper and then a soft “no,” followed by more retching.   

I bang on the door, “Leighton!” I grabbed a hair pin and jimmy the lock.  I see Leia throwing up again and I grab her hair to keep it out of the way and rub her back.  “Ok, baby, I got you.” I stay there until she leans back into me.  “Leia, you are burning up.” I move to pick her up, but she stops me.  

“What are you doing?” 

“Taking you to the doctor.” I move to pick her up again, but she wiggles out of my grasp.  “Leighton...” 

“I don’t need to go to the doctors, Andy. I know what’s wrong.” She can’t look at me and now I’m concerned.  

I brushed a sweaty stand of hair away from her eyes. “Are you ok?” 

“Yes, no... yes, fuck I don’t know.”  She puts her head into my neck to hide as I hold her tight.  

“What’s going on Princess?” She looks at me with the most broken face I’ve ever seen.  More than when I accidently decapitated her barbie, when she broke her ankle after falling out of the tree house.  The last time I had seen her like this was when her father died. “You’re scaring me, Leia.”  

She pulled her head up and looked at me straight, eyes red rimmed, fear laced in her beautiful irises.  

“Andy, I’m pregnant.” 

NEXT

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Superman vs. All Might

Hello, this is a post comparing My Hero Academia to the comic books it was inspired by. Despite the title of this post, this is not going to be about the power levels of the individual characters. Rather, a comparison between what kind of heroes Superman, and All Might are respectively, and how All Might compares to the all-American super hero.

1. With Great Power

It's pretty obvious All Might takes his influence from Western / American ideas of superhero comics. He studied in the USA before returning to japan as a part of his training. He wears red, white and blue and shouts the names of American states before his attacks.

Before we begin have you heard about Superman? Really, never? That's kind of unlikely. If you want to read more about him though, there's this post with several recommendations of short comics that help you get the idea of his character. I personally recommend "All Star Superman" which is only twelve issues and is it's own self contained story.

There's also "Superman the Animated Series" which I believed watching just the first few episodes will give you everything you need to know about his character. I also recommend watching the Justice League episodes "Patriot Act", "War World", "Hereafter" and "For the Man Who has Everything" to get a glimpse of his character. I'll be referencing a line from the series finale of Justice League later on in this post, though I don't reccomend watching that because all the above are one shot episodes and the finale has spolers obviously.

So, All Might like Superman the single strongest superhero in his country. The only one of them that could truly be called "Superhuman", to the envy and amazement of others. There's an arc in My Hero Academia Vigilantes, where every single hero struggles only to fail to save a building full of people from collapsing. Only for after an entire arc of more minor heroes completely failing to stop the building from falling down, across the street All Might hears about it and arrives at the last second saving everyone inside and a couple of cats too.

The basic concept of All Might and Superman is basically the same, they are both the respective strongest heroes in their world's, and they are both defined by the fact they use their great power entirely altruistically. They work themselves to the bone saving other people.

In fact, in comparison to Superman All Might overowrks himself so much it can be considered a flaw. It's shown in the overhaul arc that All Might used to have a sidekick who was devoted to him, who quit and left him entirely because he could not stand to see how much All Might was ruining himself to help others.

I wouldn't say Superman doesn't work himself to death, or risk his life just as often, because he is a character with a long history, there are times he's been overworked and in crisis, heck he's even died before (Google: The Death of Superman), but working himself to the point of self destruction is not really a character flaw of superman's the way it is for All Might. I wouldn't say it's because Superman is any less selfless than All Might, though.

Rather, it has to do with the underlying difference in their motivation is. Now I said above, they are both people who use their powers to the best of their ability to help the others around them, but that's their actions not the internal motivation that drives those actions.

I've been calling him "Superman" so far, but that's not really his name. Everyone, meet Clark Kent. (This is from Superman: Secret Origin).

Wholesome geek from Smallville Kansas. He was adopted by Ma and Pa Kent, and raised on a farm, with no clue that he was an alien orphan from outer space until about his teenage years when he began all of a sudden to develop superhuman powers. What was his reaction to learning he has those powers? That he's something stronger than any other human?

He didn't want them. Clark Kent didn't want to be different from everyone else, and he never saw himself as better than them. He only comes to term with his identity, when he realize that these abilities are a gift, the same as any other gift, like being a fast runner, or being good at math, and Clark can use these gifts to help others.

This is essential to understanding Clark's character, he sees himself as gifted yes, but he's never seen himself as superhuman, or better than others. Clark is not superman, Clark is Clark.

He's a reporter at the Daily Planet who helps the city by writing expose articles with his colleague Lois, and who occasionally hears about disasters and puts on his pajamas to save people from a burning building, or catch Lois when she's flying out of a window. Being superman is community service for Clark. Clark never makes himself out to be a savior.

This all comes from Clark's fundamental desire, to be normal, to be a part of the planet that adopted him, and to feel connected to the world. Clark, unlike All Might values both parts of his identity (This is from Superman: Birthright).

There's a lot of things I can tell you about Clark Kent, he's a farm boy, he has a home life, a wife, however I could not tell you anything about Toshinori Yagi, both his past, and what he does when he's not being All Might.

The quirkless Toshinori Yagi may as well have stopped existing the moment he inherited One for All. As for why he has no identity outside of the costume he puts on, and why he devotes everything to being a superhero, it all falls back to that idea of motivation and origin again.

Superman never wanted to be a savior or a symbol, but that's exactly what Toshinori wanted to be, to become what the world needs him to be at the expense of everything including his own identity. Toshinori is not allowed to be human, because he needs to be superhuman. Once again, that makes it seem like Toshinori is more selfless, after all he sacrificed everything. They're both gifted with powers yes, but Toshinori doesn't let himself have anything resembling a normal life because he must be what the world needs him to be.

However, this is where I want to point out, that self-destruction is never a good thing. It's you know, destructive, hence the name. I think one of All Might's greatest flaws is not just that he's "So nice, and so selfless that he always hurts himself helping others", but that he genuinely began to buy the fact that having superhuman powers made him superhuman. He didn't overextend himself just because he was genuinely that selfless, but because he believed HE was the only superhuman with the power to do so and therefore HE had to do it.

We see shades of this in the Dark Deku arc, where this complete selflessness ends up veering into egoism. "I'm the only one in the whole world who could possibly do this, you all are too stupid and slow to catch up."

All Might is known for always flying solo, to the point where he only ever had one sidekick who quit on him because he refused to accept help. Clark cooperates with other heroes all the time, watch literally any episode of the Justice League cartoon.

All Might believes he has to become a superhuman symbol in order to help people, but then he starts to genuinely believe he is superhuman and that's where all the differences between them start to branch out. Superman wants to be a part of the world he wants to be with everyone, All Might wants to stand above everyone as a superhuman symbol. Yes, his motivations are still altruistic, he does it because he wants peace for the general population, but it's still a toxic attitude on his part.

Superman is a character who grapples with his own ability to help everyone too, because someone with his abilities should be able to do just that. (Superman: For all Seasons)

However, unlike All Might who pushes himself further and further away from his own humanity, when Superman reaches his limits, he instead goes back to his humanity instead. Superman's friends and family remind him, he may be strong, but just like anyone else in the world he's not capable of doing anything.

Clark's the kind of guy who when facing a crisis in the big city, comes home to talk with his small town parents, and then is deeply touched and learns a lesson from his father talking about growing corn, because to Clar, his father's efforts at growing corn are the same as him being a hero. They're both just trying to do the best they can do with the skills they have. That is the difference, Clark is rooted in the people around him, and his community, and is basically human in everything but biology.

Toshinori crumples under the expectations of being the perfect symbol that he places for himself, because he has no connection to the world outside being a hero. For Clark, what makes him a hero is the farm boy raising and the good values that his mother and father gave him as a child. For Toshinori, for a long time in the manga at least, he genuinely seems to believe that powers are what make him a hero. (Superman: Brainaac Action Comics #866).

Somewhere down the road, All Might began mistaking power for morality. You know, "All Might Makes Right." This could be partially because All MIght's not entirely based off of superman, Horikoshi has gone on record saying that My Hero Academia is like an exploration of two kinds of heroes, Spiderman and Goku.

Goku being the kind of reassuring hero who always wins a fight. So, All Might himself has two different distinct images, he's someone who's powerful enough to always beat the bad guy, and he's also someone who shows up to save everyone. All Might never really reconciles those two sides of himself though, and because of that he ends up representing a lot of Hero Society's Toxicity.

2. All Might Makes Right

So, I hope the lengths I went to establish "Superman does not think he's superhuman, All Might does, or at least expects himself to be..." have convinced you, because now we're moving onto the more toxic parts of All Might's nature.

All Might set out to do good, yes, but he also inspired a lot of the toxic parts of quirk society, the idea that the only people who can be heroes are people with strong and flashy quirks, the idea that defeating evil is just brutally punching a villain in the face. All of this because, at some point down the line All Might seemed genuinely convinced it was his superhuman powers that made him capable of saving so many that made him the hero.

Hence why we get scenes like All Might whining in front of his All Might Statue that he can't be ahero anymore, because he's too injured to continue fighting on the front lines.

Stain even compares himself to a god, that has now fallen upon the earth and became mortal. Superman was never superhuman or above anyone else, Toshinori can't really cope with being stripped down to having the same powers as everyone else, because he thinks his power lies in showing up to fight the villain.

The one time he's called upon to stop Deku from the same self destructive spiral that he went on, he can't, because All Might hasn't really overcome his own self destructive mentality that being a hero requires him being superhuman.

It's not just self destructive though, All Might clearly believes in the ideal image of a hero that the rest of hero society supports of an overly strong hero, bashing the brains in of a completely evil villain. He never stops to question himself, or the other people who imitate him. To quote League of Legends Arcane of all things, he's so busy worrying about greatness that he doesn't stop to ask himself if his actions are good. Every time we see All Might fight a villain, no matter who it is, it's a complete and absolute beat down.

"A hero's always ready to smash his way through trouble, tell me villain do you know the meaning of, plus ultra?"

All Might himself might have brought in AFO alive despite him being the worst villain ever and kept him in prison without executing him, but he's inspired an entire society of top heroes who are in fact, totally cool with brutalizing villains. Heroes who when they hear the only way to fight the Nomus is to kill them, and killing them is completely okay, are actually excited and find it fun.

"Oh wow, we can kill them? Cool, that's way easier!" All Might himself might not kill, but the attitude he promotes that a hero is someone who punches his way through a villain no matter what, promotes this line of thinking.

I could go through the manga and nitpick All Might, like how he never had any reaction to finding out his close personal colleague abused his own family, how he called Dabi the child Endeavor abused a maniac right in front of his brother's face, I bring these up but they're nit picks, I don't think they're in the spirit of the argument. Horikoshi is not trying to say that All Might is cool with child abuse, I'm nitpicking inconsistencies in the writing there. However, the dual nature of All Might's influence on society and the double nature of heroes themselves has been a long running plot thread.

All Might is completely unaware of the toxic influence he has on others, and also refuses to self-evaluate and look at his own flaws because as I stated above he mistakenly believes that All Might needs to be Superhuman in order to be a hero. Therefore, he can't have flaws. All Might seems to believe it's his ability to perform superhuman deeds that makes him a hero, unlike Clark Kent who's greatest ability is his sense of right and wrong.

Clark also, does not support the brutalization of villains in any way. If you want to watch the animated series, there's an episode called "When there's Smoke" where Superman meets a villain who's the victim of government experimentation, and spends most of the episode trying to talk her down, and de-escalate the fight.

Clark: Don't do it volcana. I can help you. Volcana: No thanks. These days I can help mysrlf. Clark: Listen, nobody will blame you for what you've done, but the stealing has to stop, now. Clark: You have to trust me, Volcana. Volcana: DO you know how many times I've heard that? From my parents before they shuffled me off to the institute? From the institute just before they turned me over to the feds. And from the government just before they took away my life.

At the end of the episode, he doesn't even hand her over to the feds or the government because he knows they're going to experiment on her.

Superman usually attempts to de-escalate first, whereas All Might always skips step one. In fact, one of Superman's most legendary animated scenes in the DCAU is a scene where he shows just how much he always holds back in a fight.

"That man won't quit as long as he can draw breath. None of my teammates will. Me, I've got a different problem. I feel like I live in a world made of cardboard. Always taking constant care not to break something, to break someone, never allowing myself to lose control even for a moment, as someone could... die. Now, you can take it can't you big man? What we have here is a rare opportunity for me to cut loose, and show you just how powerful I really am."

Clark is constantly concerned that if he doesn't hold back perfectly he might hurt someone more than he intended to, even a bad guy, whereas All Might is always going Plus Ultra on those purse snatchers. When Shigaraki brings up the possibility that All Might might be just as violent as the people he fights, he just laughs it off and pounds Shigaraki into the pavement.

Here's another clip where superman disavows violence. Quoted Here:

"Yes, they did see. They saw the ugliness as a solution and it frightens them. It frightened me too when I decided to cross that line and do what you do. It's so easy, anger, vengeance. *Fake punch* Luckily, I'm not you and I never will be." [...] "You think that's it. It's not over you poncey twit. If you think I'll just go to jail and rot you're living in a dream world." "Good, dreams save us. Dreams lift us up and transform us into something better. ANd on my soul, I swear that until my dream of a world where dignity, honor and justice are the reality we all share I'll never stop fighting, ever..."

Clark deliberately holds himself back from violence, because he knows he's a role model other people look up too and he doesn't want them imitating him.

Clark does not think his powers make him a hero, which is why he is so mindful of them. While I don't think All Might is convinced that powers make you a hero, to the lengths that say Endeavor absolutely seeps convinced that being a strong hero, and having strong powers should make him good.... I do want to compare how Clark and All Might act when they're called to save someone in a situation where their powers don't help.

Shigaraki Tomura, the villain of the manga is the grandson of All Might's mentor Shimura Nana. At her request, he never looked for her son after Nana decided to abandon him for his own safety, so they could remain hidden. As a result, when Shimura Tenko lost control of his own quirk and killed his family, no hero came to save him. Not only was All Might unaware of the situation because he was keeping his promise to his old mentor, but in the society that All Might created, Shimura walked the streets for days and not a single person stopped to help him.

Tenko is the child that All Might cold not save. However, upon learning of his existence, that All For One kidnapped the grandchild of his mentor, and then raised him for years into a villain and twisted him as a pawn to use against All Might... learning those circumstances All Might still doesn't try to go after him.

When All Might learns there was someone he did not save, someone he also has a personal connection too because his grandmother abandoned her family in order to raise him up as a hero, his reaction amounts to "Shucks, what can you do?"

"Shucks, what can you do?"

To compare All Might's dilmena with Tenko, the child he could not / did not save, there is a superman comic called "Superman: Up in the Sky" a six issue self-contained story, about Clark as he attempts to save a single girl who was abducted from earth and taken to space.

It examines the morality of such an action, Clark leaving the earth and going out of his way just for the sake of one person. After all, Clark is the most powerful hero. If Darkseid, or Brainiac shows up, you're going to need Clark fighting on your team.

The comci doesn't brush over the fact that Clark leaving just to save one little girl's life means he won't be there to help whatever natural disaster people need saving from, in fact Clark himself said it was a reason he shouldn't go, and Clark during the comic has constant hallucination and fear sequences of someone on earth dying because they needed his help and he was off saving a little girl.

Clark even has the option of leaving the search of the little girl up to the Green Lantern Corps, who are basically the universe's police with magic rings that let them fly practically anywhere and far more members than Clark, but he doesn't.

And his reasoning is simple. "No, I can't save everyone but maybe I can save her."

Superman even has a crisis of conscience with the two halves of himself, while hallucinating on an alien planet, the human half of him that wants to save one little girl, and the superhero sdie that's responsible for guarding earth from threats.

The alien himself says he only kidnapped her because she was a nobody, because she's someone who would never come after, because she's not worth that effort.

This is the defining scene which makes Superman, Superman. He came to save her, because superman isn't a set of powers, superman isn't a guy who fights bad guys, superman helps people.

Which is why I think All Might is just too different a character from Clark to really be comapred to him in the end, he's too wrapped up in his society's toxic ideals of heroism and too unwilling to bend from it. After all, if All Might had learned something, wouldn't his final stand be doing what Superman did in this comic? Giving everything he had left to save the child he failed to save? Instead, what do we see him do? Go to fight All for One in a giant robot suit.

The child who most needs to hear "I am here" is Shigaraki, but All Might's essentially already given up on him. "Shucks, what can you do?" Indeed. I want to point out in this same chapter though, All Might gives a very touching motivating speech to Todorki, reminding him he doesn't have to beat the big bad All for One, and it's okay for him to go after Dabi, and reassure his family and everyone else as a hero. THAT is the hero All Might could be, even without his powers. THAT is the hero who could try to talk to Shigaraki and bring him down, who could make an effort to be there for him now because he wasn't in the past. All Might's genuine altruism, and his moments where he uses his words and idealism to inspire people shows us what he could be, if he just divorced himself from this toxic notion that being a hero means standing up against a bad guy and beating them up.

However, we have not seen him do that yet. Because in the end All Might is no Superman. And he's DEFINITELY no Clark Kent.

[hotvinimon]

Water Cooler

A/N : Images are not mine. Credits to the owner. Likes, Comments and re-blogs are appreciated. Please don't steal my work. Enjoy ;)

Bokuto Kotaro x female reader

Warnings - English is my second language, showy bra

"Break time – the ultimate escape from the chaos of daily life. Recess had just ended, and Y/n had a brilliant idea: refill her water bottle. She strutted over to the water cooler, ready for a refreshing sip, and lo and behold, she spotted Bokuto, the self-proclaimed Aquaman, filling bottles like he was on a mission to hydrate the entire Sahara.

"Hey there, Bokuto-kun, how's the water-filling Olympics going?" Y/n greeted him.

Bokuto, looking like he had just discovered a hidden water treasure, replied, "Oh, hey, Y/n-chan! I'm on a roll! And you?"

"I'm good. But are you planning to audition for 'Water Cooler Gladiator' anytime soon?" Y/n quipped.

"Eh? No, these bottles are for the team, not for my secret water kingdom," Bokuto assured her. "Why are you here, though?"

"I just came to rescue my dehydrated water bottle," Y/n explained.

Just as Y/n turned on the tap to quench her bottle's thirst, disaster struck. The tap handle decided it was time for a vacation, causing water to erupt like Old Faithful. Y/n tried to wrestle the gushing water with both hands, but it was like trying to tame a wild hose.

Bokuto, sensing the water crisis, swooped in like a superhero. They joined forces, and after a heroic struggle, they managed to defeat the watery beast. But alas, Y/n was now as soaked as a sponge in a water balloon fight. She began shivering, and her slightly pink bra made an unexpected guest appearance in Bokuto's view. He reacted like a startled flamingo and turned his head away faster than a ninja in stealth mode.

"Thanks a million, Bokuto-Kun. Why the sudden shyness?" Y/n asked. Bokuto remained silent but pointed discreetly at her chest without turning his head. Y/n followed the gesture and instantly turned as red as a tomato in a sauna. She quickly crossed her arms, shielding her modesty.

"Now what in the H2O am I supposed to do? I didn't pack my emergency 'Dry Me Instantly' kit," Y/n lamented.

Bokuto, thinking on his feet, declared, "Fear not! Follow me." He ushered Y/n into the MSBY locker room like a chivalrous knight and embarked on a quest for a spare shirt.

"Will this work?" Bokuto presented an extra jersey of his. Y/n, not one to ponder life's mysteries for long, snatched the shirt with the swiftness of a squirrel nabbing an acorn and disappeared into the changing room. She emerged sporting her new attire.

Bokuto's eyes widened as he beheld her transformation. A blush blossomed on his cheeks, making him look like a confused tomato in a farmer's market.

"Do I pass inspection?" Y/n asked, striking a pose.

"You look more beautiful than a shooting star," Bokuto blurted out.

Both of them turned a shade of red that would put a ripe apple to shame.

"Um… Thank you, Bokuto-Kun."

"Call me Kotaro."

"Thanks, Kotaro."

"It's all good."

Later that day, as you strolled through the MSBY office corridor, Hinata whispered to Atsumu, "I've been saying it all along – those two are definitely a thing."

Atsumu commented, "I thought they were just friends."

Hinata quipped, "Tsumu, friends don't usually ogle each other. "

(Requests are open)

[coal15]

So for the tens and tens of people out there following my WIPs, I apologize that it's been ages since I posted another chapter. At first it was just a monster case of writer's block but then a potentially devastating health crisis came up--for now it looks like I'm at least not staring down the barrel of imminent doom, but it has been a teensy bit distracting. I'm trying to get the creative engines revving again, but it's slow going. I don't wanna force things and end up cranking out garbage chapters, but it's hard not to pressure myself. So to lift my spirits and maybe re-ignite some confidence, I've decided to post links to the works I'm most proud of.

**fandoms represented below the cut are Heartstopper, 9-1-1, Good Omens, Sleepy Hollow, and The Magicians. Comments welcome but certainly not required (she says whilst mewling in the general direction of her inbox)

Protected. The Magicians, Queliot. Explicit but also full of romance and cuddles. If I had to pick one project as my "crowning achievement," it would be this baby. It follows Queliot's entire life together. 11 chapters. **it even got mentioned in a list on syfy, I had no idea until someone pointed it out to me in the comments, and yes I did 100% squeal about it for days even though it was just a tiny blurb on the list

Inconvenient Mistletoe. Sleepy Hollow, Ichabbie. Porn With Plot. (lots of plot) This was the first fanfic I ever wrote. Had no intention of publishing, but in a sudden fit of daring I posted it to ff.net and it got such an enthusiastic response I kept going. Covers the whole Apocalypse and a few years beyond. Every fic I've written since then owes its existence to this one. 17 chapters.

Of Guilt and Victory. Heartstopper, Nick and Charlie. General Audiences. This one is strange in that the story is what it is because Nick can't bear the thought of finding out someone has un-alived themselves when he knew it might happen and did/said nothing to intervene. This is in regards to Ben but at NO POINT is he forgiven for what he did nor sh*tty behavior in general, but this idea just fell into my mind based on what a beautiful golden retriever of a human Nick Nelson is, and the story evolved from there. It's odd, but I'm proud of it. 7 chapters.

A Series of Odd Proposals. Heartstopper, Nick and Charlie. General Audiences. This is one of those WIPs I mentioned. 8 chapters so far. It follows them through adulthood. In the chapter I'm currently writing their daughter is sixteen.

*Discalimer re: my 911 fics* yes I've written for both buddie and bucktommy, if it offends you that I've done such a thing the solution is easy: don't read them.

All's Well That Ends Well. 911, Buddie. Teen and up audiences. The whole thing pretty much revolves around the evolution of their love story from present day into old age. 10 chapters.

Buck's Gonna Buck. 911, Bucktommy. Mostly GA, but there is a brief mention of sex toys to I tagged it teen and up. These three "chapters" are just short, ridiculous drabbles. 1) Buck's POV getting ready for a date. 2) Tommy's POV getting ready for the date. 3) The date. Just silly fun. We haven't had much time w/them yet but I'm hoping to write more for them in s8 when there's more material to work with.

All Roads Lead Back. Good Omens, Aziracrow. Teen and up. One of those obnoxious WIPs. Starts a few weeks after s2 ends. 11 chapters thus far and we're tits deep in a rebellion against The Metatron in Heaven and searching for the true Almighty. Also, Muriel is a badass.

The Long Way Home. The Magicians, Queliot. Teen and up. Eliot embarks on a desperate mission to bring Quentin back from the underworld. Angst, danger, adventure, longing, romance, humor. Even a musical episode ********Okay, so this one is unusual in that I was just about to start writing the LAST DAMN CHAPTER when the pandemic hit. And how had I planned to end it since the very beginning? Well our heroes would win the war of course, but as a last act of vicious revenge before defeat the Library was gonna . . . wait for it . . . unleash a deadly pandemic upon the world and kill millions. I came up with this ending long before the pandemic, but . . . yeah. Nope. But I couldn't think of a better idea either. So it just sat there without an ending and thanks to everything else going on in the world I totally forgot about it for like a year. And when I did remember I still couldn't come up with anything better than my original idea. Should I finish it and stick to the original plan even though it's SO on the nose? I am super open to alternative suggestions here, because if it had an ending I absolutely would have listed it right up there with Protected. Currently 12 chapters. Again, alternative ending suggestions super welcome!