#and then they ask me if i’m losing my faith because i didn’t remember and i say ‘no’ but i’m lying

[elryuse]

Yandere Wonyoung x Male Reader

Wonyoung & y/n have been friends since childhood and promised to get married when they grow up..but since Wonyoung became an idol and got great success, she start to forget y/n and said rude things to y/n..at the same time, she's in a relationship with a male idol..y/n knows about it and feels very disappointed and slowly forgets Wonyoung

a few months later, Wonyoung compared between that male idol with y/n and felt that y/n was the best..after that, she start tracking y/n & willing to kill anyone who stood in her way.

The Price of a Broken Promise

Yandere Wonyoung X Male Reader

The rain poured heavily outside as Wonyoung sat alone in her luxurious apartment, staring blankly at the dim glow of her phone. News articles, tweets, and viral videos filled the screen, all focused on the same scandal: San, her boyfriend, caught cheating with another idol. The images of him smiling, holding someone else’s hand, sent a sharp pang through her chest.

The betrayal stung, but it wasn’t just San’s actions that haunted her tonight. As she curled up on the couch, her mind drifted back to a promise she had made long ago, to someone who had once meant everything to her.

“Y/n,” she whispered his name for the first time in years, the sound foreign yet painfully familiar.

She closed her eyes, letting the memories resurface. She saw his shy smile, the way his hand would always reach for hers as they walked home together. He had been her anchor, her unwavering support during the uncertain days of their childhood.

But she had let him go.

Her fame as an idol had taken over her life, pulling her further and further away from the boy who had once been her entire world. It wasn’t just time or distance that had severed their bond—it was her own selfishness.

“Wonyoung, don’t forget me, okay?” Y/n had said once, his voice soft but earnest.

“I could never forget you,” she had replied with a laugh, brushing off his concern. But she had forgotten him—forgotten their promise, forgotten his love.

And worse, she had pushed him away.

Her chest tightened as she remembered their last conversation, months before she debuted. He had called her late at night, worried about her.

“Wonyoung, are you okay? You haven’t replied to my texts,” he had said, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I’m just busy,” she had replied coldly.

“I just wanted to remind you I’m here for you—always.”

“I don’t need you,” she had snapped, her frustration boiling over. “Stop calling me.”

She could still hear the silence that followed, the hurt in his voice when he finally said, “Okay. I understand.”

That had been the last time she heard from him.

Now, years later, she realized the enormity of her mistake. Y/n had been the one constant in her life, the one person who had loved her unconditionally. And she had thrown him away for a fleeting romance with someone who didn’t even care enough to stay faithful.

The guilt hit her like a tidal wave. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she searched for his number.

Her heart sank when the call didn’t go through.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She tried again, but the same robotic message greeted her.

“Why did I let you go?” she sobbed, clutching the phone to her chest.

The days that followed were a blur. Wonyoung couldn’t focus on anything—rehearsals, photoshoots, interviews. Her manager noticed the change.

“Wonyoung, what’s going on with you?” he asked one afternoon, his tone sharp. “You’re distracted, and it’s starting to show.”

“I just need some time,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Time for what? You have responsibilities, a career—”

“I need to find someone,” she interrupted, her voice trembling.

Her manager stared at her, baffled. “What are you talking about? You don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, standing abruptly. “I’ve already lost the most important person in my life because of this career. I’m not losing him forever.”

“Wonyoung, be reasonable—”

“I’m done listening to reason,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m going to find Y/n.”

She spent weeks searching, reaching out to mutual friends, scouring social media, even looking through old emails in the hope of finding some trace of him. It was through one of those emails that she found an old message from him, dated two years ago.

Wonyoung,

I know you’re busy, and I know your life is different now. But I just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. If you ever need me, just call.

- Y/n

Her tears blurred the screen as she read his words. He had been there for her, even when she didn’t deserve it. And now he was gone.

Wonyoung’s search eventually led her to New York, where she had heard he had moved. She didn’t know what she would say if she found him. She didn’t even know if he would want to see her. But she had to try.

When she finally knocked on the door of a small apartment in the city, her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear the rain that drenched her.

The door opened, and there he was.

“Y/n,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He stared at her in shock, his expression unreadable. “Wonyoung?”

Before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n stepped back, his face hardening. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Why now?” he asked, his tone cold. “After all this time, why now?”

She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “I was selfish. I hurt you, and I let you go. I let everything go, and I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”

“You don’t get to just walk back into my life,” he said, his voice sharp. “You don’t get to show up here and expect me to forgive you.”

“I know,” she said, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please… just listen to me.”

Y/n clenched his fists, his emotions a whirlwind of anger, pain, and something else he couldn’t quite name. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” she said desperately. “You mattered more than anything. I was just too blind to see it.”

He shook his head, turning away. “Why are you really here, Wonyoung? Is it guilt? Regret? What do you want from me?”

“I want you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to make things right. I want to keep the promise we made.”

Y/n froze, her words cutting through him like a knife. For so long, he had dreamed of hearing her say those words. But now that she had, it felt hollow.

“You don’t get to fix this with a few words,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Trust doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know it’ll take time. But I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Y/n looked at her, searching her face for sincerity. For the first time, he saw it—the raw, unfiltered regret and love she had buried for so long.

But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight. And love, once broken, wasn’t so easily mended.

Wonyoung returned to Seoul after her meeting with Y/n, but she wasn’t the same. The regret and longing that had once been a dull ache had transformed into something far more potent. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—his indifferent expression, his cold tone. The man she had once known as her Y/n was no longer hers.

And that thought drove her mad.

She sat in her darkened apartment, scrolling through her phone for the hundredth time. She had found his social media accounts, though they were sparse. His life seemed simple now—pictures of cityscapes, books, and an occasional group photo with friends. But it was the women in those group photos that caught her attention.

Who were they? Friends? Coworkers? Or something more?

Her grip on the phone tightened, her chest heaving with anger at the mere thought of Y/n laughing with another girl, confiding in someone else, smiling for someone else.

“No,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “He’s mine. He promised me. We promised each other.”

Her thoughts spiraled, and with each passing day, her obsession grew.

Wonyoung began to neglect her career. She would cancel rehearsals, ignore her manager’s calls, and avoid public appearances. Instead, she spent her days tracking Y/n’s life from afar. She learned the names of his coworkers, memorized his daily routines, and even discovered where he liked to eat lunch.

One day, she booked a flight back to New York, unable to stay away any longer.

Y/n was sitting in a café near his office, typing away on his laptop, when he felt a familiar presence. He looked up, and his heart sank.

“Wonyoung?”

She stood there, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a desperate kind of determination.

“I needed to see you,” she said softly, taking a seat across from him without waiting for an invitation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone laced with frustration.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you every day. I need to make this right.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Wonyoung, we talked about this. I told you I needed time.”

“I know,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “But I can’t wait. I can’t let you go. You’re all I think about, Y/n. I can’t… I can’t live without you.”

Her words unsettled him. There was something unhinged in the way she spoke, in the way her hands clenched the edge of the table as if holding on for dear life.

“You can’t force this,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You need to move on.”

“Move on?” she repeated, her eyes widening. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Wonyoung, we were kids. Things are different now. You need to understand that.”

Her lips quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes. “No. No, you’re wrong. Things don’t have to be different. We can fix this. I can fix this.”

Y/n shook his head, his frustration mounting. “You’re not listening to me. This isn’t healthy—for either of us.”

She stared at him, her tears falling freely. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

But he did mean it. He stood, grabbing his laptop and bag. “I think you should leave, Wonyoung. Please don’t come back.”

She watched him walk away, her heart shattering all over again. But as the pain consumed her, a darker resolve began to take shape.

Wonyoung sat in her hotel room that night, replaying their conversation over and over in her mind. Y/n was pushing her away, but she couldn’t let him. He was hers. He had always been hers.

Her thoughts turned to the women she had seen in his photos. She imagined them laughing with him, touching him, taking her place. The idea was unbearable.

“No one else can have him,” she muttered to herself, pacing the room.

Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more twisted than the last. If Y/n wouldn’t come back to her willingly, she would make him. And if anyone tried to stand in her way, they would regret it.

The next day, Wonyoung followed Y/n to his office. She waited outside, watching as he chatted with a female coworker—a petite woman with a kind smile. Wonyoung’s nails dug into her palms as jealousy consumed her.

When the woman walked to a nearby café for lunch, Wonyoung followed her. She cornered her in the alley behind the café, her expression cold and menacing.

“You need to stay away from him,” Wonyoung said, her voice low and threatening.

The woman looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n,” Wonyoung clarified, stepping closer. “He’s mine. Don’t think for a second that you can take him from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman stammered, backing away.

Wonyoung grabbed her wrist, her grip like iron. “Listen carefully,” she hissed. “If I see you near him again, you’ll regret it.”

The woman nodded quickly, her face pale with fear. Wonyoung released her and walked away, a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over her.

Y/n started noticing strange things in the following weeks. His coworkers seemed distant, avoiding him during breaks. One day, he found a bouquet of roses on his doorstep with a note that read, “You’re mine, forever.”

He knew who it was from.

Wonyoung’s obsession was spiraling out of control, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He confronted her one evening, finding her waiting outside his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, her voice sweet but unsteady.

“This has to stop, Wonyoung. You’re scaring me.”

Her smile faltered. “I’m scaring you? Y/n, all I’ve done is love you. All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

“This isn’t love,” he said firmly. “This is obsession.”

Her eyes darkened, and she stepped closer. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. You don’t understand how much I need you, Y/n. I can’t live without you.”

“You need help,” he said, his voice softening. “Please, Wonyoung. Get help.”

Her expression twisted into one of rage and heartbreak. “I don’t need help. I need you. And I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Y/n felt a chill run down his spine. He realized then just how far she was willing to go.

The obsession had consumed Wonyoung entirely. Every waking moment revolved around Y/n—what he was doing, where he was going, who he was with. She knew everything: the times he left for work, the café he liked to visit, the park where he occasionally went to clear his mind. Her network of eyes seemed endless. Every interaction, every smile he shared with someone else, ignited a storm of jealousy and fury within her.

But she couldn’t just watch anymore. She needed him. Completely.

It was a cold, quiet night when Wonyoung finally decided to act. She waited in the alley near Y/n’s apartment, cloaked in darkness. Her heart raced as she gripped the small vial in her hand, the contents a potent sedative she had procured after weeks of planning.

She knew his routine well enough to predict when he’d go to bed. The lights in his apartment flickered off around 11 PM. She waited another hour, ensuring he was deep in sleep before making her move.

Breaking into Y/n’s apartment was easier than she expected. She had studied his habits meticulously, noting how he often forgot to lock his balcony door. The quiet click of the door sliding open sent a chill down her spine, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through her.

She crept inside, her movements silent and calculated. His living room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Her gaze fell on a framed photo of him on the counter, and she couldn’t resist picking it up, her fingers trembling as she traced his face.

“You’ll understand soon,” she whispered to herself, setting the photo down.

Her footsteps were featherlight as she made her way to his bedroom. The door was ajar, and she pushed it open slowly, revealing Y/n’s sleeping form. He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Wonyoung’s breath hitched. He was so close, so vulnerable.

She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she pulled out a syringe filled with the sedative. She had practiced this moment in her mind countless times, but the reality of it made her hands shake.

“I’m doing this for us,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She knelt beside the bed, carefully brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Her heart pounded as she pressed the needle against his skin.

The prick of the needle woke Y/n. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was disoriented.

“W-Wonyoung?” he mumbled, his voice groggy.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she cooed, her voice soft and soothing. “Just relax.”

His gaze sharpened as he realized what was happening. “What… what are you doing?” he said, his voice slurred as the sedative began to take effect.

He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. Panic flashed in his eyes as he attempted to push her away.

“Wonyoung, stop,” he slurred, his strength fading.

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t let you leave me. I need you, Y/n. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

He struggled against her, his body weak but his mind racing. “This… isn’t love,” he managed to say, his words barely audible.

“It is,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “It’s the purest love there is. I’m doing this for us. For you.”

Y/n’s vision blurred as the drug fully took hold. His head lolled to the side, and his body went limp. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Wonyoung’s tear-streaked face hovering over him, a mix of desperation and obsession etched into her features.

Wonyoung sat beside him for hours, her hand gently stroking his hair as he lay unconscious. She whispered promises to him, vowing to make him understand, to show him that they were destined to be together.

“You’ll see, Y/n,” she murmured. “You’ll realize that no one can love you the way I do. No one will ever understand you like I do.”

Her tears had dried, replaced by a chilling sense of determination. She had crossed a line, but she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered now—only him.

He was hers. And she would never let him go.

The news broke like wildfire across Korea: “Jang Wonyoung, the Diva of IVE, Has Gone Missing.”

Fans were devastated, flooding social media with hashtags, prayers, and theories. Was it an abduction? Had she run away to escape the pressures of fame? The police were tight-lipped, but the public was frantic. News outlets speculated endlessly, painting a picture of tragedy for one of Korea’s brightest stars.

But the truth was far darker.

Far from the glitz and glamour of Seoul, in a secluded countryside church, Wonyoung stood radiant in her wedding dress. The ornate lace fabric clung to her like a second skin, her beauty almost ethereal. Her lips curled into a serene smile, her dream finally realized.

Beside her stood Y/n, dressed in a formal suit, but his face betrayed no joy. His once-bright eyes were now dull, lifeless. The man who had fought so hard to escape his past had been subdued, stripped of his will. He moved robotically, his body weakened from the drugged haze that Wonyoung kept him in.

The church was empty, save for them. There were no friends, no family, no witnesses. It was exactly how Wonyoung wanted it. This moment wasn’t for the world—it was for them alone.

“You look so handsome, my love,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice tender as she adjusted his tie. “I’ve waited for this moment my entire life.”

Y/n’s lips twitched, but no words came. He had stopped resisting days ago. His silence didn’t bother Wonyoung anymore. She believed that, in time, he would come to accept her love again.

The officiant, a man Wonyoung had hired for discretion, cleared his throat and began the ceremony.

“Do you, Jang Wonyoung, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Wonyoung’s eyes gleamed with joy. “I do.”

“And do you, Y/n, take Jang Wonyoung to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Y/n remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. Wonyoung gently squeezed his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Answer him, my love,” she said sweetly, though her tone carried an edge.

“…I do,” Y/n muttered, his voice barely audible.

The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Wonyoung turned to Y/n, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

“This is our beginning,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his in a possessive kiss.

The couple settled into their new home, a sprawling estate surrounded by high walls and dense forests. It was isolated, designed to keep the outside world away—and Y/n inside.

Wonyoung walked through the grand hallways, her arms wrapped tightly around Y/n’s as if afraid he might slip away. She beamed with contentment, her dream fully realized.

“Isn’t this perfect?” she said, her voice full of glee. “Just you and me, forever.”

Y/n didn’t respond. He walked alongside her, his steps heavy, his gaze empty. The man he once was had been consumed by her relentless obsession.

But to Wonyoung, it didn’t matter.

She had won.

No one else would ever have him. No one else could touch him. Y/n was hers—completely, irrevocably, eternally.

As they sat by the fireplace that night, Wonyoung rested her head on his shoulder, her smile serene.

“This is love,” she said softly, her fingers lacing through his. “And I’ll never let you go again.”

The flames crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world continued to mourn the disappearance of Jang Wonyoung. But inside, she was happier than she had ever been.

The end

[time-was-over]

i think i’m losing it (vent in the tags el oh el)

[evansbby]

an update from me :)

hey everyone, i know i haven’t been very active on here lately. and the reason is because a lot of things in my life have changed. i’ve been debating even sharing this but i feel like i’m in a good enough position to be okay with sharing it.

so these past two years, i had been super active on here (late 2022- early 24) and that was because, well, I didn’t really have anything else. that’s because I had graduated in 2022 and then i just couldn’t find a job in my field. like so many other recent graduates, it was just so hard and tough and it really made me lose all faith in myself.

i found myself to be in the worst mental state i had ever been. I cut myself off from my friends, felt like a burden towards my family, was having meltdowns and panic attacks almost daily, even started eating unhealthily and was just overall in a very bad place.

HOWEVER, i always felt like I could come on tumblr and that’s why i was so active and writing all these stories because honestly, they were almost like a crutch to me. like the ONE thing i had to look forward to in life during those times was the feedback I’d get when i posted a fic, and honestly it’s what kept me going. like i swear to god, on some days this blog and community was the only thing that i had to look forward to and keep me going, and writing felt like such a huge escape.

because i felt so USELESS. like i was wasting my life and not making any money or being able to kickstart my career after uni, and that it would be like this forever, so when I was writing it actually felt like I was doing something with a purpose. honestly on some days I would literally wake up early and go sit in Starbucks all day just writing my fics like i was cosplaying working or something just so I’d have a purpose. (I don’t go to Starbucks anymore lol boycott)

anyways, i never shared this on tumblr these past few years bc you guys don’t understand what a failure i felt like. i would sometimes get asks on here asking what i did for a job and I’d feel so embarrassed of my current state of being unable to find a job when it felt like everyone else who had graduated with me had one and obtained one so easily. like i felt ASHAMED.

i remember once i got an ask asking what my job was and I just said “fashion marketing” bc that was one of the things i wanted to do and id done an internship in that field so i just put that but it was a LIE i was unemployed and the most depressed ive been in my whole life but I thought maybe i could manifest it.

ANYWAYS, and you’ve probably already guessed it, but the reason I’m not so active anymore is because I did eventually find a job. a really good one that I’m enjoying so much and I’m so happy at. Finally, I’m feeling like myself again, like I’m living that life in London as a twenty something that I’d see everyone on tiktok living!! Like I’m finally just having fun, going out with friends, being active, having money to spend on fun things etc.

and it feels so surreal and crazy because when i was depressed and jobless, it made me doubt myself so much. Like the constant rejections and failed interviews made me doubt myself and lowered my self esteem so much and I thought I’d NEVER achieve this life that i have now! And I don’t want to jinx it but I literally thank God every day for finally granting me this because I really feel like I would’ve gotten worse and worse and IDEK.

But back to the main point, and so because of my new job I just don’t have that much time for tumblr anymore. But this isn’t a goodbye post… not at all! I find that when I’m super busy in life is also when I get the most motivated to write! Like for example in summer 2022 I was on here so much and that was the summer I had the most fun, was the most busy. I think when I’m busy in life, I get motivated to write.

Which I believe is the case right now, because I’m SO motivated to complete all my stories, I keep thinking about them and writing them slowly, so please don’t think anything is abandoned! I just wanted to make this post to be more transparent about what’s been going on in my life and what had been going on these past two years. That maybe someone else going through something similar can see that eventually, everything does work out.

Anddd I don’t really know how to end this. I just want to say, yall don’t understand just how thankful I am for having this blog, this platform, to write my stories. For having you guys. Because who knows how much worse my mental state would’ve been these past two years when I didn’t have ANYTHING else going for me, if I hadn’t had this blog it would’ve been so much worse.

Thank you so much for believing in me and enjoying my stories and always always letting me know how much you enjoy them. And I’ll say the truth; I know everyone says that engagement on tumblr has been bad lately but I can say that bc of you guys I have literally never EVER had this issue. And that’s not me being big headed, that’s just the truth and it makes me so happy and grateful. Yall always came through for me and still do now! Every time I think my fic is going to flop, you guys come through for me. I appreciate it so much. You guys have no idea how much you helped me when I was at my lowest. And continue to.

Many thanks

Me 🩷🩷🫶🏼🫶🏼

[ravenwind-75]

If @heylorrain subjected me to pain and angst songs and said to go with the ideas I was given, I listened, hard. And so I have something for you. Sorry in advance.

Indigo:

~~~~~~

He was worried about her. She knew that. That she shouldn’t be here still. That she’d lose her way to the next place. Yet she lied to herself each day that she could find her way back to him. That this time her path would lead to life not death. She never should have left him, she never should have gone there when he asked her to leave his family to him.

Yet she did.

She wondered if her aura had changed. He used to say it was bright and brilliant. She used to feel it herself, the thrumming of life and power, of love. Now she felt colder, and lonely. It was so dark here in the in between. She didn’t know how the other ghosts did it. How they moved past it. The guilt.

Maybe it was time she finally went home, but she didn’t want to leave him here by himself. It wasn’t fair, why did they have to say goodbye? Why did she have to be dead and alone, leaving someone who needed her just as much and even more so?

…..

He gave her a piece of his heart and then tried to run from it. Run from her love. And when he finally accepted it he was so lost in the clouds of fear, he’d never seen that the sun would risk her light for him. Now he couldn’t feel her closeness, warmth at all.

When he heard the news his light had left him, his face paled. When her hand evaporated in his the clouds of his soul shed tears, bitter rain of sorrow.

Yet her death had given him some hope and faith that he could be free of them. That he’d be saved.

But at what cost? What kind of lesson was this?

Her death is my fault…

He’d lost his color. He lost his light. He lost his love.

….

She was the gold to his silver, the sun to his moon. He had never felt warmer than when he was in her presence. Soft curls wrapped around his fingers, her cradled against his chest, her lips pressed against his. She gave him the joy that he’d shared.

Now he was her warmth yet she couldn’t feel it. Just a wisp of frigid wind that made him shiver that he didn’t have the heart to tell to leave him alone. He wanted her warmth back, to feel her colorful aura.

Yet she begged him as he knelt on the cold stone floor, wand to his head, “Don’t take the life I fought to save. Live for me. You’ll come home to me someday. Patience remember? I can wait. Please!”

“I already feel dead so why can’t I join you?! I don’t want another sun to set without being by your side.”

But he’d stayed when she left. Many tears were shed when they said goodbye, one last brush of her hand on his cheek he felt her fade away, his wand pointed skyward doing nothing to sense her shape.

“Don’t say goodbye I’m right here. Please, I’m not leaving, not ever.” She’d said weeping softly.

He just smiled weakly, “Darling it’s better there. Go.”

It didn’t take long to convince her. Her spirit was tired. And they just kept painting each other darker.

He couldn’t move on with her here. And she got no rest. It was time to part ways with their ghosts.

“Goodbye Ominis.”

“Goodbye, my darling.”

…….

She’d loved the color indigo. She said it was what a twilight sky looked like. Where everything is half-lit and bathed in a hue between reality and a dream.

Maybe this is how indigo felt. Calm, sad and soft. An understanding, the deepest sense of peace yet a slow pain in the quiet isolation of her absence. On the edge of something unspeakable, untouchable.

A longing, a wish for connection out of reach, something impossible. Not a bright sadness but a certain kind of a melancholy that simply fades into the silence of darkness like the light of day.

Like she did.

His favorite color used to be gold, her brightness.

Now it was indigo.

Because In his dreams, when twilight came, she lived.

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

10) a little stalking never hurt anyone

You’re sitting on the bed in Mark’s dorm, while he’s nervously playing some chords as a “warm up”. You watch him closely, admiring the way his fingers play the strings. He’s good, you can tell that, and he didn’t even technically start yet. But if he keeps going like this, he won’t even make it to the audition. You take a deep breath.

“So… what are your song choices so far ?” You ask innocently, hoping Mark will get the hint and finally play an actual song instead of shyly playing whatever chords come to mind.

Mark stops, looking up from the guitar to meet your eyes. “Uh… We should do two songs. So I think I’m gonna do Highway to Heaven, that’s a really good one, and-“

“Then play it.” You nod towards the guitar again. “I wanna hear it.”

Mark stares at you for a few seconds. “Now ? Are you sure ?”

“Yeah.” You reply, tone firm. “You called me here to show me, no ? Why chicken out now ? Will you chicken out at the audition too ?”

Mark shakes his head quickly, looking down back to the guitar. “No. I just feel like my choices are bad. I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“You won’t.” You reassure him quickly. You don’t want him to lose faith in himself, after all. He needs to radiate confidence by the time he’ll play in front of The 7th Sense. “Listen, if something is not the… smartest choice, we’ll talk about it and choose something else. Yeah ? This is just me. I’m not gonna bite your head off of anything.”

Mark sighs, but nods at that, still staring at the guitar. Then he takes a deep breath, starting to play.

You sit back comfortably, watching him play the chords. You raise a brow as you listen to him, because even though you may not know a lot about music, but damn, this guy is good. You wouldn’t be able to tell a difference between him and how Johnny used to play the song from what you remember.

Once he’s done, Mark lets out a deep breath, meeting your eyes as he sets the guitar down. “So what do you think ?”

You nod at him appreciatively. “I think you’re great. Like actually.”

Mark blushes a little and drums his fingers against the guitar, thinking. “Thanks, but, is it like ‘the band guitarist’ type of great ? Because you know…”

“I think you could definitely take Johnny’s place, if that’s what you’re asking.” You grin at him. “Really, just stop doubting yourself and think of it as a real option, okay ?”

He sighs again but nods. “So Highway to Heaven is a good choice ?”

“I think you’ll do well with that one, yeah.” You watch him carefully. “Did you choose the other one yet ?”

Mark picks up the guitar again hesitantly. “I was thinking about choosing something from Frank Ocean, since I’m the most comfortable playing his songs for some reason… Like they really speak to me, you know ? I don’t know. It’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.” You say quickly. To be honest, you’re not sure if you know any Frank Ocean songs. Maybe Chanel ? That was Frank’s song, right ? “You should play something you’re comfortable with.”

He nods quickly at that. “Right, but I don’t know if it’s like, audition worthy. My favorite one is Solo, so… I can try ?”

You smile at him, silently asking him to start.

Mark starts playing, fully focusing on the song. You watch him closely, kind of amazed how into it he seems all of a sudden. You hate to admit it, but since you’ve never heard the song before, it’s kind of hard to tell how is it supposed to sound like.

Once he’s done, he looks at you expectantly, leaning back in the chair. You clear your throat. “I mean, you were good, and it sounded awesome, but maybe… this isn’t the most suitable for the audition ? Like… I feel people might find this a bit underwhelming.”

Mark groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to have this one as an option.”

You nod, leaning against the wall. “We can keep it on the list, but maybe you should go with something people will recognize easily.” You hum, thinking. “Anything comes to mind ?”

Mark starts playing his next option, and you actually have to straighten your back, immediately recognizing the song. That’s Frank Ocean ? The song is catchy and Mark seems like he’s played this a thousand times, the usual shyness nowhere to be found. Once he’s done you actually clap because wow, Mark really is good. It’s almost hard to believe he actually isn’t a music major, seeing how passionate can he get.

Mark snorts at you clapping but he’s visibly relieved you’re happy with this song choice. “Yeah yeah, don’t flatter me too much. So what do you think ?”

“What’s this song called ? I never knew this is Frank.”

His eyes widen. ��Dude, don’t tell me you don’t know Ivy.”

You shrug, a little ashamed now. “Hey, I can’t know everything. But honestly, I really loved this one…”

Mark grins at you, resting his arm on the guitar. “Yeah, not all of us can have immaculate music taste I guess. But yeah, the Blonde album pretty much changed my life. You should give it a listen.”

“Oh, trust me, after this I will.” You chuckle, standing up and stretching a little. You were both sitting down for quite some time now, so you’re a bit stiff. “So it’s called Ivy, you say ?”

“Mhm.” Mark watches as you stretch from his chair, thinking. “So you think I should practice this and Highway to Heaven ?”

You nod. “Yeah. In a way, these two songs really go together.”

Mark smiles, also standing up, following you out of the room. “I’ll try, then. Hopefully it goes well.”

“I’ll come check up on you. Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. He’s feeling way less tense than before, now that he got your approval. “I’m pretty aware of that, don’t worry.”

You smile at that. “So, you keep practicing, I’ll try to find out who some of your so called opponents are and maybe even try to get on the band’s good side, and we’ll both see how that works out for you ?”

Mark groans. “Jesus Christ, you’re seriously too good at this. You don’t have to do all that. I don’t wanna get in because of connections or anything. Either I’m good or no…”

“Mark, calm down. I won’t do anything crazy. I’m just doing research.”

He glances at you skeptically. “Yeah, research. Sure.”

You elbow him. “Hey, be a little optimistic ! I’m doing this for you.”

He sighs. “I know, I just wanna do this fairly. No pitying or anything like that.”

“And I promise you I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly. “But a little stalking never hurt anyone.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────���─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: i’m so sorry for disappearing and not updating on monday, working 12 hour shifts really got me bad ☹️☹️ like i just came home and fell asleep immediately… i’ll do better i promise 😭 this isn’t even proofread yet i just really wanna post something bcs i feel bad so bear with me please 💔💔

I ALSO HOPE SOMEONE WILL GET THE CHENLE AND STEPHEN CURRY REFERENCE BCS I WAS GIGGLING🤭🤭🤭🤭

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[tiredhermitgirl]

LawLu and why it works (for me)

I recently engaged in @sungd ‘s post that was asking what was the appeal of lawlu and it really got me thinking/ hyper fixating on this ship more so I wanted to voice more of my thoughts on it!

Yeah the age gap is weird because it’s like a 7 year age difference so I see why folks are put off by this ship. HOWEVER, the reason why it doesn’t bother me as much is because of their personalities.

I’m gonna focus more on Law since he is the older of the two and that seems to be where people get hung up!

This will probably be long but bear with me there is a point! 😂 And if you don’t want to read all this either that is completely fine!

Ok here we go!

Law despite how he wants to be perceived, is actually a pretty respectful and honest guy. We get glimpses of this even from Sabaody where he gives the credit of freeing Jean Bart to Luffy rather than himself, despite it being him who cuts off Jean Bart’s chains and asking him to join his crew.

This happens again when he literally jumps into an active war zone to save a rival captain who he doesn’t really know at all. And rather than boast about it to Luffy’s allies, he just quietly stays in the corner and doesn’t even accept their gratitude for saving Luffy’s life. He even says that Luffy and co don’t owe him anything because he did this on a whim. Coming from someone who is framed as one of Luffy’s rival and also depicted as being sadistic and cruel, it is weird how Law doesn’t rub it in anyone’s face that HE was the one who saved Luffy and that Luffy and the rest of them owe him.

Even meeting up with Luffy again after the time skip, rather than Law force Luffy and his crew to help him take down Doflamingo because of some perceived debt, Law asks Luffy to form an alliance to take down Kaido. If Luffy had said no I get the feeling that Law would just accept it and continue his plan on his own. He never brings up how he saved Luffy as leverage or in general and again when Luffy thanks him for it, Law brushes him off and says that Luffy doesn’t owe him anything.

Like you literally save someone’s life and they don’t owe you???

And then we have Dressrosa where we get a lot of info on Law and why he is the way he is and why he hates Doflamingo. After suffering the way he has suffered, it wouldn’t be surprising at all if he was a cruel person because the world has not been kind to him. But he was saved by someone who was goofy, and kind, and saw him for what he was, which was a hurt child.

And he willingly shares all this information with Luffy, who resembles Corazon A LOT.

For me there are two crucial points in Dressrosa that really show just how much Law respects Luffy and even the crew itself.

The first one is his speech to Doflamingo, where he tells Doflamingo that he will lose because Luffy and his crew have performed nothing but miracles since they have been at sea. Despite Law being completely brutalized by Doflamingo and despite him wanting to be the one to take down Doflamingo, his faith is completely in Luffy, going as far as to call him and his friend’s miracle workers.

To me, this implies that Law has been following Luffy’s journey for a while which isn’t so far fetched but it also implies that Law has a great respect for Luffy and his crew that has been growing with each feat they accomplish. Notice how I use the word respect because we are not at the love stage.

The second crucial moment, for me personally, is when Law refuses to leave the vicinity of the battlefield despite him losing an arm and bleeding out. I remember when I first read what he said I was so shocked because it was so honorable in a way that we have only seen by Luffy’s crew and by people like Bon Clay and Jinbei.

The fact that Law wanted to stay and watch Luffy beat Doflamingo and if he didn’t beat him then he wanted to die with him because he would see it as his fault. The fact that he states that Luffy and his crew wouldn’t be in this situation had he not asked them to is something that has always stuck with me because it’s so… like idk I can’t find the word I am looking for but it just speaks “honorable” to me and it shows just how deeply Law respects Luffy and his crew. Like it just made me like Law even more because it showed that he CARES about people and that he avoids inconveniencing people as much as he can.

And what Robin says afterwards is, to me, what makes this ship work. This is verbatim from the manga but Robin tells him “Traffy, The captains in an alliance stand on equal ground! Luffy is here of his own will. He doesn’t participate in a fight unless he wants to.” And I think. This statement applies to Luffy’s approach to life in general. Luffy is all about freedom. Nobody can chain him down or make him do anything that he doesn’t want to do. Luffy is his own person and he has such a strong personality/ will that nobody can force him into anything he doesn’t like.

So when people try to make it seem as if this ship is predatory strictly because of the age difference, I understand why they feel that way but I would politely disagree because Luffy is NOT the kind of person who will allow himself to be in that situation and Law is NOT the type of person who would put another in that situation. Especially when you take into account Law’s backstory and hatred of Doflamingo. Law would never want to be compared to nor would he want to emulate someone like that. Also while they met pre-timeskip there was literally nothing there. Like to me this ship didn’t start until Punk Hazard.

And if we really want to talk about predatory then Boa Hancock simping for a 17 year old Luffy when she was 29? Yikes!

Anyway…

For me personally, I think if we were really to pinpoint when feelings would develop between them, I would say AFTER Dressrosa. Probably not towards Zou nor while they are on Zou. Law had too much going on in his head during Punk Hazard and Dressrosato even consider Luffy in any other light other than ally. After the defeat of Doflamingo, I think it would take some time for him to sit with his feelings on EVERYTHING and once he sorted through that then he might start thinking about how he views Luffy. If I were to say when that view would start, it would probable be when Luffy was on Whole Cake Island.

Either way, after thinking more about this ship, I am starting to like it more! Sorry for this long info dump! I hope it made some sense!

[allisonbaelfire]

Amethyst. - PART 8

The UA students were called back to the arena after the break, and there were still 16 students left in the competition. Present Mic announced the third challenge—a one-on-one fighting battle.

The reactions among the students were mixed. Some were excited, while others looked nervous.

“Alright, this is it! Time to show what we’re made of!” Kirishima exclaimed, pumping his fists.

Midoriya glanced around nervously. “This is going to be tough… but we have to give it our all.”

I felt Katsuki’s eyes on me. I couldn’t quite tell if he was excited about the upcoming battles, angry, or just his typical Pomeranian-self. When I looked back at him, he quickly looked back to Ms. Midnight. Weird. Maybe he was sizing up the competition, or perhaps he was just curious about if I’d fight for real now. It was hard to tell with Bakugo.

Ms. Midnight stepped onto the stage to announce who would be fighting whom, but before she could even start, Ojiro—one of my classmates whom I had barely spoken to—raised his hand to speak. I was visibly confused when he announced his withdrawal from the competition.

“I can’t in good conscience continue,” Ojiro said firmly.

“Why are you giving up this chance?” Mina asked, her voice filled with surprise and concern.

Ojiro took a deep breath before explaining. “I was in the team with that guy with the purple hair and tired eyes—Shinso. Something was off. I don’t remember much from the cavalry battle, and it feels like I wasn’t in control of my actions. I can’t fight in these conditions, knowing I wasn’t myself.”

The students started murmuring among themselves, the atmosphere filled with curiosity and confusion.

“He must have some kind of mind control quirk,” Midoriya speculated, his eyes widening with realization.

“But giving up just because of that?” Bakugo scoffed. “Pathetic.”

“No, it’s not pathetic,” I interjected, stepping forward. “Ojiro is doing what he believes is right. If he thinks he wasn’t in control, then it’s honorable of him to step back.”

Ojiro nodded gratefully at me. “Thank you, Y/N. I just wanted to be honest. I can’t compete if I don’t know if my actions were my own.”

Ms. Midnight nodded in understanding. “Very well, Ojiro. Your withdrawal is accepted. Now, let’s proceed with the matchups.”

The screen lit up with the tournament bracket, and everyone’s eyes were glued to it. The matchups were announced as follows:

Midoriya vs. Kaminari

Y/N vs. Shinso

Todoroki vs. Sero

Iida vs. Aoyama

Mina vs. Tokoyami

Kirishima vs. Tetsutetsu

Bakugo vs. Uraraka

Yaoyorozu vs. Jiro

“Looks like I’m up against purple guy myself, great,” I muttered to myself. The thought of facing him, especially after Ojiro’s warning, annoyed me.

As Shinso realized he was up against me, his eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Every muscle in his body seemed tense, ready for action, as if he couldn’t wait to prove himself and show that he deserved a spot in the hero course just as much as anyone else.

He didn’t say a word, but the intensity of his gaze at me spoke volumes. I knew that this guy wanted to beat me, badly. He’d been bitter ever since, thinking I had it easy because of my family name. This wasn’t just a match for him; it was a chance to challenge the status quo and prove his worth. And he was ready to do whatever it took to make that happen.

His quirk was good for defense, but mine was both defense and offense. I couldn’t allow myself to lose. I glanced around, wondering if Hawks was still near, watching me from somewhere. He always said he had faith in me, but I knew he wouldn’t let me off easy if I screwed this up.

Denki patted me on the back with a grin. “You’ve got this, Y/N! Just don’t let him get in your head.”

“Yeah, show him what you’re made of!” Mina chimed in, giving me a thumbs up.

Bakugo, still glaring, stomped over with a snarl. “Don’t screw this up, Frostburn. If you can’t handle this guy, you’re even weaker than I thought.”

I shot him a sharp look, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “Don’t worry, Bakugo. I won’t lose.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught Shoto’s gaze. He was staring at me with a cold, unreadable expression before quickly looking away. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter right now.

Facing Shinso would be tough, but I needed to stay focused and trust in my own strength. My plan was simple: don’t answer him, no matter what. If I could keep my cool and use my ice flames to either control the battlefield or hit him hard enough, his mind control wouldn’t matter. I’d make sure he had no choice but to leave the arena defeated.

But even as I tried to focus on the upcoming match, Hawks’ warning echoed in my mind. He had hinted that there was a threat I needed to be aware of. I looked around. Was it one of the students? A teacher? Or maybe someone in the audience? The uncertainty gnawed at me, adding another layer of tension.

I had to stay sharp, not just for this fight but for whatever might be lurking in the shadows.

“Y/N!” Midoriya’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Remember, stay focused and don’t respond to him.”

I nodded, appreciating his concern. “Thanks, Midoriya. I’ll be careful.”

As I stepped into the arena, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. But for now, I had to put those worries aside and concentrate on the battle at hand. Shinso was waiting, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

__________

The arena was buzzing with anticipation as I stepped into the ring. Shinso stood across from me, his eyes narrow and calculating. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel every eye in the stadium on us.

“This is it,” I muttered to myself, steeling my nerves. “Don’t let him get to you.”

Present Mic’s voice boomed through the arena. “Let the match begin!”

Shinso immediately spoke up, his voice calm and commanding. “Why don’t you just give up now, Todoroki? You know you can’t beat me.”

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to respond. Instead, I focused on my hands, letting a frosty fog form around them. I needed to be ready for anything. I knew his quirk involved brainwashing, but I wasn’t sure if he had another trick up his sleeve or was good in hand-to-hand combat. I had to be prepared.

I considered my options: icing the battlefield could give me control over the terrain, making it harder for him to move and giving me an advantage. Creating ice barriers would provide cover and disrupt his line of sight. Or, I could attack him straight away, hoping to overwhelm him before he could use his quirk.

“Silent treatment, huh?” Shinso smirked. “That won’t save you.”

He continued to taunt me, but I managed to stay silent, focusing on maintaining my defenses. The crowd watched in tense silence, aware of the stakes.

Then, Shinso’s voice took on a different tone, one that hit closer to home. “Do you really think you belong here? Even your own brother can’t stand you.”

The mention of Shoto’s disdain pierced through my defenses. The strained relationship with my brother had always been a sore spot. Before I could stop myself, I snapped back, “That’s not—”

My mind went blank. I felt my body freeze, not from my quirk, but from Shinso’s mind control. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think for myself. His quirk had taken hold.

“Now, walk out of the arena,” Shinso commanded.

My feet moved against my will, dragging me towards the edge of the arena. The crowd gasped, realizing what was happening. My classmates were sitting on the tribune, their faces filled with shock and concern.

“Y/N, fight it!” Midoriya yelled from the stands, his voice filled with urgency.

“Don’t let him control you!” Uraraka shouted, her hands gripping the railing tightly.

Kirishima jumped to his feet. “Come on, Y/N, you’re stronger than this!”

Even Shoto, usually so composed, looked genuinely surprised. His eyes widened, and for a brief moment, his cold facade cracked, revealing a flicker of worry. He hadn’t expected me to fall for Shinso’s mind tricks just because he mentioned him.

Their voices pierced through the fog in my mind, and Hawks’ warning echoed once more: “Find people you trust.”

I heard my classmates and as much as I wanted to listen to them, it didn’t work. I was close to walking out of the battlefield.

Bakugo didn’t understand why I had fallen for Shinso’s Brainwashing in the first place, more he didn’t understand why I wouldn’t fight more against it until- his eyes opened wide as he remembered the conversation between icyhot and deku.

“Frostburn!” Bakugo yelled, his voice cutting through the haze. “Don’t hold back, show them your real strength! You can control it, I know it!”

His words struck a chord deep within me. The fierce determination in his voice, the unyielding challenge—it all resonated. Bakugo knew I always held back. He had heard enough to understand my fears and insecurities.

The sudden outburst from Bakugo caught everyone off guard. My classmates exchanged confused glances. Bakugo, known for his abrasive personality and general disdain for others, especially showing support, was cheering me on. It was a side of him they hadn’t seen before.

“Did Bakugo just… encourage someone?” Kaminari whispered to Sero, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“I must be dreaming,” Mina muttered, her eyes wide with surprise. “Since when does Bakugo cheer for anyone?”

With a surge of willpower, I fought against Shinso’s control. My eyes glowed purple for the first time ever. The crowd started freezing as the temperature dropped all of a sudden. Shoto, in particular, noticed it was coming from me. The frosty fog wasn’t just coming from my hands—it seemed like my entire body was emitting an icy aura.

Shoto, alarmed by the sudden drop in temperature and the change in my appearance, started to stand up, his face filled with concern. He looked ready to stop the match, afraid of what I might do.

Bakugo noticed Shoto’s movement and shouted, “Stay out of it, Icy-Hot! Trust her, damn it!”

Within a second, I raised my arm and fired ice flames from my hand. The force propelled me back to the center of the field. The crowd erupted in cheers as I landed gracefully.

I looked at Shinso, who was visibly shocked. “You thought you could control me? No one can.” I said, my voice cold and resolute.

With a powerful blast, I directed my ice flames at Shinso, freezing him in place and pushing him out of the arena field. The victory was mine.

The crowd erupted in cheers, breathing heavily, I fell to my knees, a smile spreading across my face. I looked up at Bakugo, who smirked and mumbled to himself, “I knew it.”

Shoto was visibly surprised, first by Bakugo’s outburst to stop him and second by how I had controlled my ice flames. He had expected me to lose control, but instead, Shinso was only lightly frozen. In fact, Shinso could already move again, shaking off the frost.

Present Mic’s voice boomed over the speakers, “Y/N Todoroki is the wins!”

____________

As the crowd’s cheers began to fade, Shinso walked over, still shaking off the last remnants of frost. He looked at me with a mixture of frustration and respect.

“You really are something, Todoroki,” he said, his voice still calm but now tinged with genuine admiration. “I underestimated you.”

I smiled weakly, still catching my breath. “You did pretty well yourself, Shinso. Your quirk is no joke.”

He nodded, a slight smirk forming on his lips. “I guess, next time I’ll be better tho.”

I extended my hand to him, which he took after a brief moment of hesitation. “I’m counting on it.”

He smiled while shaking my hand firmly. “Don’t let up, Todoroki. You can win this thing.”

__________

Amethyst. - MASTERLIST: click here

[nausicaamusiclover20]

One more chance

James regrets losing you after a drunken fight. Years later, he finishes a song for her and hopes for a second chance....

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stage lights blinded me, the deafening roar of the crowd fading into a distant echo. I stood at the edge of the stage, the world at my feet, but all I could think about was her—the one I lost because of my own stupidity. The crowd cheered, their excitement palpable, but none of it could fill the void she left behind.I had everything I could’ve ever wanted, and yet I threw away the one thing that mattered the most.

Even now, years later, I replay that night in my head—the night I ruined everything. It was supposed to be just another show, another late-night celebration, but when I came home drunk and bitter, it all fell apart.She was my anchor, the one person who stood by me through all the ups and downs. No matter how far my career took me, she believed in me. She’d sit at every rehearsal, every small gig, smiling as though I was already a star. And when I made it big, she was the first one to say, “I knew you would.” Her faith in me was unshakeable, and yet I took it all for granted.

It all started so innocently. Late-night talks in the studio, her curled up on the old, worn-out couch, encouraging me as I played around with melodies. She’d hum along, laughing whenever I’d mess up, telling me that I’d get it right the next time. Her voice was like a lifeline, always pulling me back when I was lost.

I remembered the way she’d kiss me on the forehead before every show, whispering, "You’ve got this." The memory of her smile as she cheered me on from the front row still lingered like a ghost in my mind. She was my everything—my biggest fan, my muse, my best friend, my lover.

But that night, everything changed. I’d stayed out late, celebrating with the guys, the alcohol making my thoughts foggy and my temper quick. When I finally stumbled through the door, there she was, waiting for me. I could see the hurt in her eyes, but I ignored it.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice shaky but gentle. “You said you’d be home after the show.”I could’ve told her the truth, that I was out blowing off steam. But instead, the anger bubbled up inside me, and before I could stop myself, I snapped.

"God, do you ever stop? Maybe if you didn’t bother me too much it would be better”The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them, but the damage was done. Her face crumpled, the pain evident in her eyes as she took a step back. “What James? I’m just trying to be there for you, but it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

I wanted to take it all back, to hold her and tell her I didn’t mean it, but my pride wouldn’t let me. “I don’t need you to be there for me. I can handle this on my own.”She stood there for a moment, silent, her tears catching the dim light of our apartment. Then, with a voice that was barely audible, she whispered, “If that’s what you really want, I’ll go.”

And I said the words that haunt me to this day. “Yeah, maybe you should.”She left that night, and I didn’t chase after her. I told myself I was better off without her, that I didn’t need anyone. But as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I realized how wrong I was. She was gone, and with her, the best part of me had vanished too.

No matter how many concerts I played, no matter how many fans screamed my name, it was never enough. Because every night when the noise died down and I was alone in my dressing room, the only thing I could think about was her. How she used to sit beside me, humming along to the songs I wrote. How she’d light up when I played a melody she loved.

How I told her to go away—and she did.

I never finished the song I was writing for her. I couldn't. Every time I picked up the guitar, her memory would flood my mind, and the guilt would be too much to bear. The unfinished lyrics sat on my desk, collecting dust, just like the life we could have had together.

Years passed, and every now and then, I’d see something that would remind me of her—a song on the radio, a couple holding hands, a laugh that sounded like hers—and the regret would tighten around my chest like a vice. I missed her in ways I couldn’t even explain, and no amount of success could drown out the pain of knowing I drove her away.

One night, as I sat in the quiet of my apartment, I picked up my guitar again. The unfinished song stared back at me, a reminder of all that I had lost. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to feel everything I had buried. The regret, the guilt, the love I still carried for her.

I finished the song that night, pouring every ounce of my heart into the melody, the lyrics a confession of all the mistakes I had made. I knew that this was the only way I could say what I needed to say.

The next morning, I did something I hadn’t done in years. I called her. The phone rang once, twice, and then I heard her voice—a voice I had convinced myself I would never hear again.

“Hello?”

My heart pounded in my chest. “Hey, it’s me.”

There was a pause. I could almost feel the hesitation on the other end of the line. “What do you want?”

“I... I wrote something for you. I know it’s been a long time, but I’m playing a show tonight, and I really want you to be there. There’s a song I need you to hear.”

Another long pause. I waited, holding my breath. Then, she finally spoke, her voice softer now. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” I said, my voice cracking. “I need you to hear this.”

She didn’t respond right away, but after what felt like an eternity, she said, “Okay. I’ll come.”

The night of the concert, I scanned the crowd anxiously. And then, there she was—standing at the back, her arms folded across her chest, her expression unreadable. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.

Before I started the song, I stepped up to the microphone and took a deep breath. The crowd hushed, waiting.“I want to dedicate this next song to a very special person,” I said, my voice faltering slightly. “Someone I should’ve never let go. This song is for her.”

The moment I said those words, I could see her from the stage. Her expression softened, her eyes wide with surprise. I strummed the first chords, and the entire room seemed to disappear, leaving only me, her, and the song that had been left unfinished for so long.

As I played, the memories of our time together flooded back—the laughter, the long nights spent talking, the quiet moments where everything seemed perfect. I poured every ounce of regret, love, and longing into the music, my voice cracking with emotion as I sang the words I had written for her all those years ago.

When I finished, I looked up, my vision blurred with unshed tears. The crowd erupted in applause, but all I could see was her, standing at the back of the room, tears streaming down her face.

I wiped my eyes, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over. She was crying too, her hand trembling as she wiped her own tears away.

After the show, I found her backstage. The air between us was heavy with unspoken words.“I finished it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “The song... it’s for you. It always was.”She looked at me for a long moment, her expression softening. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “For everything. For pushing you away, for saying all those things I didn’t mean. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

She let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. “I missed you,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were.”

“I don’t want to go back,” I said, stepping closer. “I want to start over. Please. Just one more chance.”She hesitated, then finally, slowly, nodded. “Alright, I'll give you one more chance.”

I reached for her hand, and when she didn’t pull away, hope surged through me. I wasn’t sure what the future held for us, but for the first time in years, I felt like I had another chance.

[nightmare-in-the-woods]

Dazai x gn! reader x Fyodor fluffy thing

Notes; it gets suggestive once, but no smut happens because this is just a cute fluffy thingy. Dazai is just a little shit who loves to tease his partners. <3

————————————

Dazai was a whiner, when he was bored he whined…incessantly. If y/n didn’t give him the proper amount of attention when he wanted it, he whined. If Fyodor and y/n found themselves working after nine, he whined and pulled them away from whatever they were doing. 

“Fyodorrrrrr” Dazai whined from the couch in Fyodor’s office. 

“Dazai, I will remove you if you don’t behave.”

“Fedya be nice.” y/n mumbled, too tired to realize just why Fyodor was threatening to kick Dazai out of the office as they worked on their story. “Hey Fedya, what’s an affectionate way to call someone ‘mouse’ in Russian? I know you told me but I can’t remember.”

“мышка.” Fyodor answered with a smirk. Dazai looked over with curiosity and a raised brow, prompting y/n to answer his unasked question. 

“The commissioner wants that stereotypical Russian man type for a love interest, which is dumb by the way. I hate writing stereotypes!” y/n cut themself off before leaning its head back and taking a deep breath, letting out a deep frustrated sigh. “I swear if they end up asking for a bear fighting scene I’m going to riot.” Dazai burst into a fit of giggles before devolving into cackling.

“Imagine Fedya trying to fight a bear!” He said, choking on his laughter. 

“Well that wouldn’t end well.”

“For him or the bear?” Dazai teased.

“Both, and us. Fedya would be dead, the bear would have a shit meal, and we’d be down a boyfriend.”

“It seems you have no faith in my abilities to survive a bear, how heartbreaking, Angel.” Fyodor said with a sad tone, but smirking all the while.

“You’re anemic, babes.” y/n teased back, knowing Fyodor well enough by now to know he was fucking with them. “I also think that Dazai and I would lose against a bear.” y/n said returning back to typing, they needed to finish before nine. Dazai may be terrible at self care, but god damn was he strict about when y/n and Fyodor disconnected from whatever they were working on. He even used to hide Fyodor’s files.

y/n paused, looking between Dazai and Fyodor for the moment, both wanting to continue working on the commission, and being so tired that they just wanted to cuddle with Dazai on the couch while the two of them waited for Fyodor to finish for the night. 

“C’mon.” Dazai said, now standing next to where y/n sat, grabbing their wrist and tugging gently for them to get up. “Up Angel, I can tell you’re exhausted.” Was he really teasing Fyodor right now? He cupped y/n’s cheek gently pulling them in by the waist and holding them close. “Sleepy little angel, come let's cuddle before the big bad demon tries to join us.” He said before looking to Fyodor to stick out his tongue. 

Fyodor just waved the two of them off as he went back to typing 

“I will join you two promptly at nine, as agreed.” He glanced over his many monitors to meet Dazai’s eyes. “Do not try to tempt me with your words of sin.”  y/n immediately bursts into a fit of giggles, falling into Dazai’s chest as they try to hold themself up.

“W-  words of sin! hahaha! Fedya, it's just cuddles!” y/n said, interrupting themself with giggling. Dazai then put a hand on their ass and squeezed.

“Yeah, Demon Fyodor, if I wanted to tempt you I would have put our little Angel in your lap.” He says, smirking before moving and picking y/n up, holding them by the thighs. “We’ll be in the bed when you’re ready to join us, dearest demon.” y/n whined at being picked up, resting their head on Dazai’s shoulder, and then yawned.

“G’night Fedya…I love you.” They mumbled sleepily into Dazai’s neck, just loud enough to be heard as Dazai carried them out of the office. They whined when Dazai put them down and didn’t stay, only kissing their forehead and walking off. They tried to stay awake but ended up falling asleep waiting for Dazai.

y/n woke up again to find Fyodor tucked behind them, spooning them with his face tucked against their neck, and Dazai tucked against their front, their head resting on his arm, and their face tucked into his chest. 

“Ngh…” y/n grumbles sleepily, nuzzling into Dazai’s chest.

“Welcome back ‘donna, Fedya and I decided on sushi for dinner, I ordered your usual. It should be here in around ten.” Dazai mumbled, keeping quiet as Fyodor was still sleeping. 

“Mhm.” y/n hummed in agreement before flipping over, tucking their head under Fyodor’s chin and pressing a soft kiss to his chest,

“How cruel, belladonna! Abandoning me like this, cold and snuggle-less!”

“Keep your voice down…an’ I’ve been snuggling you this whole time, Fedya’s cooler, you and I are both heaters … ‘was too warm.” y/n mumbled, doing their best to speak softly, as to not wake Fyodor. 

“So rude and mean to me.” Dazai teases, leaning forward to kiss the crown of y/n’s head, and gets out of bed. “I’ll be back soon to get you both. Food should be here.”

It was weird, having Dazai taking care of the two of them, when he met y/n he had been depressed and living in an apartment covered in instant ramen and crab chips trash, and yet here he was taking control and care of them. It was strange, but nice. y/n enjoyed the care that Fyodor and Dazai gave them. Of course he was still depressed, but his severe episodes were significantly less often and Fyodor and y/n took care of him on those days.

Dazai returned, shaking Fyodor and y/n awake gently.

“Wakey wakey! Dinner is on the table, go wash up.” He said, and y/n and Fyodor sleepily complied with the order. y/n splashed cold water on their face and looked up in the mirror, seeing Fyodor next to them using the other sink to wash up as well, and catching Dazai in the mirror setting out plates and smaller dishes for dinner.

y/n loved this, it was always so nice to see the two of them being domestic and not fighting for their jobs. y/n smiled as Fyodor placed a kiss on their forehead and walked off to go eat. y/n joined them at the table, they never wanted this softness and sweetness to end.

[crowleysgirl56]

Book Omens! A meandering journey to reading Good Omens to my son. Part three.

Things of note:

- The Elvis gag. I absolutely didn’t get this joke the first or even second time I read the book. (Is it included in season 1? I don’t remember it). The set up of a diner chef implied to be an aging Elvis, and then the payoff of Death later on in the biker bar playing the trivia machine game which asks what year did Elvis die and his reply “I NEVER TOUCHED HIM”. Chef’s kiss. 10 out of 10. What a brilliant call back. That is 100% a Terry joke.

- below screen shot: this hit me a little hard. He was so upset he cursed Aziraphale as well. From the point of view in the book, Crowley was scared for himself because Hell was after him and that he went to Aziraphale for (what I’m assuming was) protection. The fact that Aziraphale wasn’t there makes it seem more like a betrayal. He doesn’t cry about losing his best friend.

- in addition to this, the more I read Crowley’s sections after this, he really is very scared of Hell, but there is no indication in the rest of those scenes that he is upset with Aziraphale not being there or missing him. It’s interesting to see just how much the fandom projected onto that relationship in the times since. Like, honestly their relationship is so subtle it’s almost barely there.

- something that hit me terribly (and I had to explain it to my son because he was VERY confused), were the incredibly racist sections of Aziraphale flying around the globe trying to possess a body. (As an aside it’s interesting how the book provides no context around why he’s doing this. We at least get the added scenes in season 1 of him in heaven and then speaking to Crowley before possessing Madame Tracy). First he speaks to an Australian First Nation person, then a native Haitian both of which are performing rituals to summon their ancestors. In basically a very stereotypical manner. The type of trope scene you used to get in 90’s Western media because they’ve misunderstood a specific cultural practise. Completely forgot about these sections. I KNOW this is written in the late 80’s and we shouldn’t judge it based on what we know now. Still isn’t great and disappointing I never noticed it before. So glad that wasn’t included in season 1.

- Speaking of we shouldn’t judge things from the 80’s but I’m going to do it anyway, the First Nation person calls Aziraphale a poofter. Ssiiiiggghhhhh! Ok, apologies for not censoring the word, but it’s very colloquially Australian so I thought if I censored it people might not know what it is. AWFUL gay slur (and one I’m happy to say I very rarely hear anymore. I think we’ve finally put that one in the bin). But honestly, I get they’re trying to really push the idea that Aziraphale appears very gay, but is this necessary? Also, in Australia in the 80’s, did we really decide that anyone with a posh accent was automatically gay? There are some times when I miss the 80’s and 90’s, but man, stuff like this! The 80’s and 90’s can get in the bin!

- I will admit Aziraphale possessing the American Evangelical was pretty funny though. The speech he gives is quite interesting because it implies he is FAR more questioning of Heaven and the ineffable plan than he is in the show. Like, he really is very resigned to not knowing how it will end and he doesn’t have that much faith in heaven.

We’re in the home stretch now. Tune in soon for the last part of the book.

[1-800-imagines]

taken part 2 (jax teller imagine)

read part 1 here

jax was riddled with grief. losing abel and you at the same time was proving too much for him. also, the fact that gemma was on the run didn’t help. he felt like his entire life was falling to pieces and he couldn’t stop it. 

tara had tried talking with him, but he could barely look at her. he was so infuriated that her jealousy had led to the two of you get taken and half-sack’s death. 

tara tried to squeeze her way back in but jax wasn’t having it. every time he looked at her made him realize how much he missed you. and that he was in love with you. 

cameron had drugged you in order to get you and abel out of the country without raising suspicion. you were drugged just enough where you could walk but not enough to run or ask for help. 

as a result, you didn’t know where you were being held. the last thing you remembered was getting into canada. and when cameron had seen you semi-awake. he had hit you in the head which made you lose consciousness. when you woke up, you were somewhere dark and your head was throbbing. but the part that bothered you the most, wasn’t being held captive or your obvious concussion, but the fact that abel wasn’t with you anymore.

you didn’t know how long it had been since you were taken as you were being held in a dark basement. after a few days, jimmy o had shown up. a few of his men came with him and they had let you eat but then tied you right back up. 

you begged and pleaded every time someone came down. you only begged for abel. you didn’t care about anything else, no matter how much pain you were in, nothing. 

you had no clue if he was still alive but the fact that you were still alive gave you hope. you heard murmurs regarding abel when they thought you were knocked out. 

—(time skip)—

jax and the rest of had been in belfast for almost a week. they were getting closer to finding abel, but there was no word on you, which worried jax. 

as they had found out, before cameron was killed he dropped abel with maureen and given you to jimmy as collateral in hope to get some good faith. 

you were being moved to a different location, in the back of a van when you pulled to a stop. the door opened and you were grabbed out. you were blindfolded but you heard a baby cry. “abel?” you gasped, which caused you to get a punch landed to your jaw. 

this didn’t stop you, you started to claw at the man holding you to get free. then a man spoke loudly, “enough! take the blindfold off.”

you recognized the voice as it was jimmy o’s. one of the other men ripped it off of you. during the struggle, you had been taken inside a building. you looked around and saw jimmy holding abel. your knees buckled and you would have fallen to the floor if the man wasn’t still holding you. 

“please let me hold him,” you begged, “keep my hands tied, i don’t care just let me hold him for a minute.”

jimmy nodded at the man who released you and released your wrists. jimmy then walked abel over to you and passed him over. you sobbed into him, embracing him, “i’m so glad you’re okay.” you whispered to abel. 

“go into the room and stay. don’t pull anything because i will kill you.” jimmy ordered, pointing to a door. you just nodded and took abel, not wanting to take a chance. 

“they’ve set up a meet. the girl and the baby for safe passage for me to the US.” jimmy said in a hushed voice. 

you clung onto abel for dear life until it was time for the meet. in the car, you acted like you had no clue what was going on and he didn’t even bother blindfolding you. 

your heart was hammering in your chest, hoping nothing would go wrong and you would see jax soon. at this point in time you didn’t care if you died, you just wanted abel safe. 

jimmy got out of the car first and made the two of you wait. the windows were so tinted you couldn’t see who was outside. then the door was being opened and you were basically being pulled out with abel. 

you protected abel in your arms as best as you could and when you heard jax’s voice, your stomach twisted. he hadn’t noticed the two of you yet, but was talking to the man he was with, “father, they’ll kill you if you go with.”

he looked at jax and said, “be well my son.” and with that, one of the men pushed you towards jax. 

“jax!” you gasped, nearly colliding with him. he immediately pulled the two of you close to him into his arms. 

“oh my god.” he said softly, “i’m so glad you’re both safe. nothing bad is ever going to happen to either of you again.” he kissed abel’s head and then yours. 

you looked up at him and saw his face fall. he had seen how bruised and bloody you looked. “oh darlin’” he spoke, “i’m gonna fucking kill him.” he caressed your face. 

you shook your head, “he kept me alive. let them go. please, just want to be away from here.” your eyes welled up with tears. you had been trying to keep it together for abel but the facade was breaking. 

—-

it didn’t take long for the three of you to get back to the sambel clubhouse. you held abel the entire car ride with jax driving, you still felt terrified wondering if someone would go wrong last minute. 

“wait here a second while i talk to them for a second.” you nodded and stayed in the car as jax got out. 

in less than a minute, jax was opening your car door and helping you and abel out. gemma was the first to pull you into her arms. you let out a soft gasp, shocked to see gemma in belfast, “thank you for keeping him safe, sweetheart.” she whispered into your ear and kissed your forehead. 

you couldn’t say anything, so you just nodded. she released her grip on you and took abel from you, she handed him to jax, “i’m going to take her inside and clean her up, that ok baby?” she looked to you for an answer. 

again, you just nodded. gemma took you inside and upstairs to the bathroom. she began to clean up your cute and bruises.  when she turned to grab something, you started to sob, unable to hold them back anymore. 

gemma frowned sadly, “oh sweetheart, can i do anything?” 

you shook your head, “we got separated. i should have fought harder. i should have never let him get taken.” 

gemma embraced you into a hug, “you did more than anyone could ever ask. he’s safe. you’re safe now.” she kissed your forehead, “i’m going to go grab something, just wait here.”

you nodded and tried to calm yourself down which wasn’t working. the bathroom door opened and you looked up, expecting to see gemma, but instead it was jax. 

he didn’t say anything, instead he just pulled you into a hug. you stayed there, hugging him, while your breathing slowed from crying. 

“i tried to get him to take me instead. he wanted to kill him, i didn’t know what else to do.” you whispered. 

he titled your chin up so you were looking at him, “i don’t know how i can thank you. you saved his life.” he tucked your hair behind your ear, “and everyone who hurt you will be taken care of.” tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. then he whispered, “i’m so sorry i let tara get in the way. it’s always been you.”

he pulled you close again and kissed you deeply. you kissed him back and tears streamed down your face. 

“i want you to be mine. i love you.”

your heart was exploding with feelings and you barely had any words so you said, “i love you so much, jackson teller.” you paused for a moment and said “let’s go home.” 

[ofstoriesandstardust]

you’ll lose your faith for a bit and question if she's you (b.r.b.)

a/n: i’ve been working on this for nearly a year. this is my first pride month fully confident and (mostly) open about my bisexuality. i think sometimes it gets taken for granted, knowing/being allowed to explore your sexuality at a young age. therefore, i wanted to write something i saw a little more me in. happy pride month. you’re loved and valid, no matter what label you choose for yourself. 

summary: Rebel has a life-changing realization.

title comes from “you might not like her” by maddie zahm

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | same mistakes-verse 

warnings: denial of sexuality, internalized biphobia, mentions of past icemav, MavDad, mentions of DADT, alcohol mentions, swearing,

word count: 4.2k

"She’s so pretty.”

Hangman shifts, turning to look at you. “I agree.”

“I mean, really, she’s gorgeous.”

“Who’s pretty?” Coyote leans over, looking at the phone. 

“Hailee Steinfeld.” You respond. 

“Second that. Why’re you looking at pictures of her?” 

“I think she was in the movie we watched last night.” Hangman responds, nodding down to his phone, looking through her IMDb.

“Oh, what movie? I’ve probably seen it, I love her.” You ask. 

“That Bumblebee movie. I don’t know, Hangman picked it.” Coyote responds, throwing his hands up in the air. 

You made a face. “God, that’s one of her worst films. Didn’t Dylan O’Brien voice Bumblebee? I can’t remember. Anyways, why would you pick that? She’s in so many better movies. Like the Pitch Perfect franchise does exist. Movie full of pretty women if I’ve ever seen it.”

Hangman turned in his chair fully, face full of confusion. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“You keep-ow.” Hangman turned, glaring at his boyfriend. Your eyes flitted between the blonde and your best friend, who had just pinched his boyfriend and was shooting him a look through narrowed eyes. 

“Okay.” You say, laughing nervously. “Moving on. I’m hungry, so... food?” 

-

“Javy, I think your best friend is gay.”

“No shit.” His eyebrow raised in question as his boyfriend shifted to sit up against the headboard. 

“Really? Did I miss the memo?” 

Javy sighs, reaching up to run a hand over his face. “No. I don’t think she knows and it’s not really my place to speculate on her sexuality.” 

Jake watched the rise and fall of his boyfriends bare chest, admiring the glint of the dog tags in the moonlight. “But?”

“But there’s a really good chance she’s bi.” 

“She ever say anything to you over the years?”

He shakes his head, shifting to look at Hangman in the eye. “No, but she’s said all this stuff, like she did this morning, over the years that has just... made me wonder. And she tries so hard to be an ally that sometimes I think she’s compensating for something.” Hangman reaches a hand out to his boyfriend, intertwining their fingers. “I tried once, about a month after we came out to the team. She was super defensive, adamant she was straight, and got pretty panicked so I dropped it. Haven’t brought it up since.” Jake catches his bottom teeth in his lips as he let out a sigh. 

“So basically she’s so far in the closet she can’t even see it?” Javy shrugs. 

“Maybe. Like I said, not my place to speculate. She’ll figure out or she won’t. That’s up to her.” 

“Yeah, but don’t you think she’d be happier? If she knew that about herself?” 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Why are you so interested in my best friend’s sexuality all of the sudden?” 

He sighs, letting his boyfriends hand drop as he moves to place his back against the headboard, crossing his arms. “Because. I remember what it was like to be so far in the closet the mere suggestion of being anything but straight made me want to run for the hills. Made me want shove anyone who suggested it off my plane over an ocean.” He tilts his head, looking to his boyfriend. “I also know that when I stopped hiding from who I was, stopped being scared, I was a lot happier. Felt a lot freer.” He swallows, reaching out to pick off a piece of lint from his sweatpants. “I also know she carries a lot of weight.” 

“I just don’t know what she’s running from. If she is, I mean. Maverick would love and support her, so would Rooster. We would obviously and she doesn’t have a thing to worry about with the rest of the team.” 

“Maybe she thinks Rooster will break-up with her. Kind of a life-changing realization, you know?” 

“Rooster’s down bad for her, he ain’t going anywhere.”

“Not if she’s not into men.” 

Javy moves, pushing himself off the headboard. 

“You really think that?” The words are sharp, a little bit defensive, and Jake winces. “You, what, think she just stays with him because she loves him but that’s not enough?” 

“No, Javy-”

“Then what, Jake? Think she’s got some internalized biphobia she’s projecting on to herself? This is my best friend you’re talking about.” 

“Maybe she is Javy.” Jake whispers and Javy roll his eyes, reaching over to grab a pillow. “Hey, where are you going?” He asks as Coyote moves off the bed and towards the door. 

“Sleeping on the couch. Don’t wanna hear this about her.” 

“Javy, c’mon, come back. We don’t need to fight about this.” Javy spins on his heel. 

“You drop it. Doesn’t matter whether she is or isn’t. Isn’t either of our places to discuss this or bring it up to her.” 

Jake sighs. “I just think that maybe she’d be happier.” 

“Regardless if she is or isn’t, she needs to figure that out on her own.” Coyote says firmly, but he’s already inching back towards the bed as Jake watches him carefully. 

He throws his hands up into the air in surrender. “Fine, I’ll drop it. Please just come back to bed.” Javy nods, already climbing back onto the mattress, bouncing softly in Hangman’s awaiting arms.

-

You’re standing at the bar, talking to Penny amidst the loud chatter of the Hard Deck when Hangman slips an arm around you. He bends closer to your ear, words hushed. 

“Hey, can I talk to you outside?” You nod, picking your beer up from the counter and waving to Penny as she moves farther down to serve other customers. You follow Hangman, weaving your way through the crowd, and once outside, you’re quick to slip off your shoes as you reach the sand. He nods his head to further down the beach. “Wanna go sit?”

“Sure.” You say, taking a sip of your beer. You follow him to a good distance away from the Hard Deck and follow his lead, settling into the sand. He sighs, setting his beer on the sand and bringing his arms to rest on his knees. 

“Listen, um, we gotta talk about something.” You swallow, setting your drink down as well. 

“Okay.” 

He sighs, rubbing his hands together. “Before I came out, before I met Javy, I was... I was very in denial about who I was. Kept thinking something was wrong with me and kept screwing all these girls just to prove I was straight. I don’t know who I was trying to prove it to, myself maybe. And that shit... it was lonely. It was a heavy burden to carry. I’m glad I don’t have to anymore.” 

You watch him carefully. Contrary to popular belief, you and Hangman were actually quite close. He’d never be Coyote but he knew when to keep it real with you and you appreciated the realness of your friendship more than anything. 

Weird how things changed. 

“How’d you know?” You hear yourself asking. You aren’t sure why. You’re straight. 

“I don’t know, I guess when I met Javy I had this oh moment. Everything about me sort of made sense. I was still a few years out from learning to deal with it but something clicked.” 

You bit your bottom lip, turning his words over in his head. You still weren’t sure why the two of you were having this conversation. “Where you going with this Hangman?”

“Do you ever feel that way? Like you have to prove something to yourself or that you’re carrying a heavy burden? Waiting for an oh moment?” You give a half-shrug, mouth gaping open. He sighs again, sitting back to rest on his palms. His gaze moves from you to the full moon on the horizon. “Are you gay?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. You don’t respond, simply looking at him with wide eyes. He finally drags his gaze backs to you but holds firm, unwilling to back down. Finally, you force yourself to start breathing again, coughing nervously. You shake your head, looking down at the sand. “N-no, I’m not Seresin.” 

“It’d be okay, if you were.” 

“Yes, I’m very aware that it would be. But I’m not.” He tilts his head in acknowledgement and begins to stand up from the sand. All you can do is watch him. 

“Okay, well, I mean, it just wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you were into girls.” 

“I’m straight Seresin.” 

You were... weren’t you?

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” He picks his beer up from the sand, turning on his heel to head back towards the bar. You sit there bewildered, turning his words over in your head. 

Still, there was some part of you that felt unsettled. Like Jake had prodded at something dormant just enough to wake it up.

-

You sat on your bed, trying to remember what you were doing. You groaned, running a hand over your face. A soft knock sounded at your door and you looked up to see Rooster leaning against the open door. His smile was soft but you’d known him long enough to see the concern in his eyes. 

“Hey.” You whisper softly. 

Ever since your conversation with Hangman, one that hadn’t really been a conversation at all, things in your world felt off-kilter. You felt like you were waiting for the band to snap, like for the realization to come, the thing that would change everything as you knew it. You’d been sick to your stomach most days, unable to sleep. 

Admittedly, you had always wondered. Maybe a little bit more so after Javy had come out. But there was never enough to prove to yourself that you were that you had always brushed the thought off, burying it deep down. And now it was resurfacing in waves, questions and fears drowning you. 

You weren’t... You were straight. You were sure of it.

...Right?

“-you listening?” You shake your head, eyes flickering back up to your boyfriend. His smile was still there but you could tell it was more forced than anything. 

“Yeah, sorry, just zoned out for a minute.” You say, waving a hand. “What were you saying?” 

He sighs, straightening up and crossing his arms. “Coyote told me you bailed. Third time this week. He’s worried.” 

You shrug. “Just needed some time to myself.” He nods slowly, as if he doesn’t quite believe you. 

You wouldn't believe you either. 

“Hey, are you okay? You haven’t really been yourself lately.”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you hear your Dad’s footsteps in the hallway. He appears just a few moments later over Rooster’s shoulder and he shifts to allow him room to lean up against the other side of the doorway. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come out to the hangar tomorrow? For the long weekend?” You nod, even though it’s the last thing you want to do with how messy your brain has been lately. 

“Sure.” You look to your boyfriend. “Want to come with us?” Your Dad sighs, straightening up, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Actually, I was thinking it could be just us kiddo.” 

“Oh.” You say, frowning slightly. “Am I in trouble?” He shakes his head. 

“No. Hey, you okay? You got anything you want to talk about?” 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine.”

Just like how you’re straight?

You brush the thought off, moving to stand up from the bed. “I beg to differ.” Rooster mutters and you shoot him a glare. 

“I’m fine. Now I’m tired so if the two of you would kindly-” You motion for them to shoo and they both sigh, exchanging a glance. 

“Its like... 7 PM.” Your Dad says, glancing at his watch. 

“Well- I’m exhausted, so I’m going to bed early.” 

Exhausted of running from who you are?

Rooster gives you a wary look before conceding, moving a few feet to give you a kiss. It’s short and feels forced and sends a wave of cold over you. He grimaces as he pulls away and doesn’t say anything as he steps back, slipping past your Dad. Your Dad sighs, stepping back and closing your bedroom door behind him. You sit back down on your bed, trying to swallow the tears.

-

You watch as your Dad swings his leg over his chair, settling back with his coffee in one hand and the paper in the other. 

Who still reads the paper?

Who denies their sexuality?

You swallow, looking up at your Dad. The two of you were meant to drive back tonight and if you wanted to have this conversation, your window was quickly closing. 

“Hey Dad?” He hums, not looking up from his paper. “Did you ever... Were you ever...” 

“Spit the question out kiddo.” He says with a chuckle, eyes still skimming over the paper. 

You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself to ask what is a mildly inappropriate question. 

Still, you’d always looked to your Dad for guidance and if anybody would have some to offer you right now, it’d be him.

“Were you ever with a man?” 

He grunts. “Where is this going?” 

“Humor me, please?” 

“Does this have to do with why you haven’t been acting like yourself lately?” 

“Yeah.” 

He sighs. “Yeah, I was, but-”

“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. My real question is- Well, how did you know? that you were like... interested.” 

He tilts his head as he finally meets your gaze. “My story is a bit more like Jake’s. For so long, I hid any part of me that thought I might feel that way and then-” His face raises in a smile, clearly thinking back to some happier memory. “Then I met someone who changed all that. Everything just felt right with him and suddenly that part of myself I tried to keep hidden from myself and the world clicked into place. It stopped feeling like something was missing.” 

A silence falls between the two of you a you turn the words over in your head and he turns back to his paper. 

“Were you and Ice ever...” You wave your hand as he looks up at you, pausing mid-sip. “Together?” He sighs, and carefully sets both of them on the table in front of him. He eyes you carefully from where your back is pressed up the feet of the other chair, making a home on the rug placed in the hangar. 

“Yeah, we were.” 

“Oh.” You hear yourself saying, ears ringing with finally getting the truth after years. 

“That’s it?” 

You shrug. “Well, I mean I always suspected but I don’t know-” He nods, still looking at you ever intently as you begin to pick at the rug. 

“Yeah, we got together after that photo of us was taken. You know the one.”

You did.

“Anyways, we were together for a few years, but- it was hard. Especially with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. I’ve loved your godfather, and I did until the day he died. But it was hard, being in the Navy, dealing with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and we both agreed it was better to love each other and still be friends than go down in ruins. Was going to tell you but you got older and closer with Ice and it just- never came up.” 

You swallow, nodding. “Cool.” 

“Is everything okay?” You sit there for a moment, turning everything over in your head. You knew, but you were so scared. It was like two sides of you were warring, what you knew desperately fighting with what you feared. “Hey, talk to me kiddo. What’s going on?” 

You continued to sit there, tears beginning to form. Finally, you found the courage to say the words that were right there-

“Dad, I think I’m bi.” 

The words are no more than a whisper but he hears them all the same. He didn’t say anything, just continued to observe you. A few more tears begin to slip down your face, and then a few more, and then more, and soon you were struggling to wipe them all away as your Dad stood up from his seat to sit on the floor with you. He’s quick to wrap you in a hug, a kiss being placed to the top of your head. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” 

You shake your head, swallowing. “It’s not.” You whisper. He holds you close, tucking your head into his shoulder. “How can it be okay? I’m in my fucking 30′s, in a long-term committed relationship with the person I want to marry, and I figure out I’m into women. It changes everything.” 

“It doesn’t have to.” He whispers. 

“How could it not?” Your voice is thick, the tears still bubbling out of you. “He’s gonna hate me, like I lied or-”

“Hey.” He says firmly, adjusting you to be able to look you in the eye while still holding on you. “Give Brad a little more credit than that, please. He’s loved every part of you since you were kids and through all your years apart. He’s going to love this part of you too.” 

“I’m bisexual.” You whisper, the words prompting a new round of tears. “It feels really good to say that.” 

Your Dad pulls you back to his chest, squeezing you tight. “I’m glad you’ve finally found yoruself.”

-

You glance up from your phone, the text from Bradley sitting on your phone like it’s taunting you. 

Text me when you get home please.

I love you.

“This isn’t our house.”

Your Dad turns the ignition off. “Nope.” 

You blink, turning to your Dad. “Are you really making me have this conversation with him now?” 

He shrugs. “You can tell Brad whatever you want, but I figured you'd probably want to see him.” 

You sigh, sliding your seatbelt off. As always, your Dad was right. 

You did want to see Bradley. You longed for a hug and for him to tell you that everything would be alright, that he’d still love you just like he always had. 

“And kid?” 

You pause, looking up at him as you climb out of the car. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m really proud of you.” 

You swallow. 

“Thanks Dad.”

You climb out out the car, giving your Dad a wave as he drives off you. You sigh, pulling out your keys and thumbing through until you find the one that you had had since you were eleven years old, the key you’d never let go of, even in the years you didn’t speak to the person who inhabited this home. 

You blink tears away at the thought it may one day become your home. That tonight could mean it would never be your home. 

“Bradley?” You call out, toeing your shoes off by the entryway, straining for the sounds of him. 

“In the kitchen, honey.” He calls back and you can hear him moving around. You enter the kitchen, hovering by the door. 

Bradley’s cooking, sitting something on the stove, a towel slung on his shoulder as he tastes the sauce. He perks up at the sight of you, smiling. “Hey honey.”

“Hi. Sorry for dropping by unannounced.” 

He shakes his head, holding a hand out for you. “You’re never a bother. Come try the sauce. Tash sent me the recipe for her grandmother’s and I’ve been tweaking it to perfection.” 

He holds out the spoon for you to take but all you can do is stare. 

“We need to talk.” 

Bradley swallows, pulling back slowly. “Okay...” He trails off, leaning over to turn the stove off. “Do you want talk about it over dinner?”

You shake your head, glancing at the food. It looks and smells incredible, but you feel like throwing up, feeling the truth claw it’s way out of your throat on it’s own. 

“Now please?” You say, voice cracking. 

He nods. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

He looks so earnest and honest in his words, so sure that whatever you have to say to him couldn’t change how he feels about you, that you start to believe it too. 

You feel the tears stinging at your eyes as Bradley waits patiently. 

“I’m not- I don’t mean to spring this on you or- or- I don’t want you to think I’ve lied about this or intentionally hid it from you-”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it before running his thumb over your knuckles. “Honey, you’re okay.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, whatever it is, it’s okay.” 

You take a shuddering breath, leaning into his smell and the way he feels like home. 

“Bradley, I’m- I’m bisexual.” You whisper. 

It feels as though all sound is cut off as you watch him intently, not sure if seconds or hours ar epassing, anxiously waiting for him to tell you that he just couldn’t be with someone like that. 

Rationally, you knew he’d never do that to you. You hoped he’d still love you just as you are, even with this new discovery of yours. 

“If you wanna break up with me, I’d understand.” 

Bradley’s face falls and he pulls you into a hug. “Oh, honey, no.” 

You wrap your arms around him, desperate to find some sort of comfort. 

“Honey, this would never, ever change how I feel about you or what we have. How could it? This is just one more part of you that I get to love and I’m so glad it’s something you were able to discover about yourself. I’m so happy you felt like you could share it with me.” 

You swallow, tears still brimming in your eyes as you pull back to look him in the eye. 

This time though, it wasn’t from fear but from the feeling sitting in you at the way he looked at you. 

He gives you a soft smile, one of his hands reaching up to move some of your hair. “Besides, I’ve always had a suspicion.” 

You raise an eyebrow, letting out a choked laugh. “You did? How?” 

“Do you remember your friend Lexi from high school? Yeah, no one was ever really sure you two were just friends.” 

“What?” You question. “I wasn’t into her like that.” 

“Well, now I know that, but back then...” He shrugs, leaning up against the countertop. “I don’t know, Sli used to have this theory you were just dating Ben as a cover.” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” You mutter, reaching up to brush some of the tears away with a shake of your head. 

Bradley smiles softly, knowing there's no real heat behind your statement. Your Uncle Slider had always been able to see things in a way no one else could, reading past the lies and bullshit. 

Maybe the years of putting up with Mav and Ice had taught him how. 

“Do you feel better?”

You nod, leaning into his touch. “Feels like a weight has been lifted, I guess. Like everything makes sense.”

He ducks to press a kiss to your cheek. “Good. That’s how it should be.” He turns back to the stove, retrieving his spoon. “Will you try the sauce now?” 

You quirk an eyebrow, letting out a watery chuckle. “I have to admit I was expecting us to have a longer discussion about this.” You say, although you take the spoon anyways. 

He shrugs as he places the spoon in the sink after you nod, giving him your approval. “It doesn’t have to be. It can just be as simple as that if you want it to be.” He pauses, facing you. “Why? Do you want us to have a longer conversation about it?” 

You give a half-shrug, sighing. “Not- not really? It doesn’t change anything for me, I still love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you still want that, of course.” 

He sighs, reaching out for you again. “I want to be here however long you want me here. You trusted me with something deeply personal and that means so much to me. I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.” 

You take his, intertwining your fingers with his. “I know.” You whisper. 

He smiles. “Good.” He turns back to the stove. “Now, let’s get some food in you. Can’t imagine Mav cooked anything halfway decent this weekend.” 

You laugh, reaching for the bowls out of the cabinet so Bradley can scoop the pasta up into the ceramic dishes. He tells you about his weekend as the two of you settle in the couch, close to one another. Bradley’s body heat isn’t the only reason feel warmth, the love you feel brining a certain type of peace you rarely experienced. 

Later, after the two of you have had a couple of glasses of wine and are on your second helping of food, you remember your conversation with your Dad earlier in the day. 

You pause in your bite, fork halfway to your mouth. “By the way, I learned something today about Dad.” 

“Hm?” He prompts, shoving a bite of pasta in his mouth. 

“He and Ice hooked up in ‘86.” 

Bradley chokes. 

[anastasiaskarsgard]

To my only regret

“What if we just ran away? Leave all this behind... you aren’t happy. Not really.” the statuesque beauty pleaded to the only man she ever loved.

Vincent de Gramont turned to her with a look of utter disgust. “You would have me run and hide? Have you no faith in me? No honor?” taking a drag from a cigarette, he proceeded to blow the smoke in her face. “Get out of my sight, before I do something i will regret.”

The beauty coughed and wheezed as she tried to dispel the smoke. fanning her hand in front of her face she looked at him desperately. “Baby, I only need you! We don’t need all this. We just need each other,,…”

“I SAID OUT OF MY FACE BITCH!” The Marquis shouted, before shoving the woman to the floor. “Great. Now I’m the asshole. Perfect. Are you happy?”

The beautiful woman rose to her feet, tears spilling down her face. Raising her nose in the air, she turned and left him alone in the sprawling mansion they’d called home.

That was four years ago.

Vincent stood staring out the window, not seeing anything, but he was remembering. Remembering her tear streaked face, when she had looked up at him from the floor. He should have recognized the finality in her eyes, and chased after her.

He had been too proud at the time.

Despite employing some of the most skilled trackers and bounty hunters that Money could buy, she had been impossible to find. It was as if she had completely disappeared. Every day and every night he was told that they had failed to find her, he became that much more obsessed. She belonged to him, and he hated losing his things.

Pressing the intercom button on his desk, he ordered his assistant to call the last guy you call, if all else fails: Trejo.

Trejo was rumored to have a 100% success rate with locating anyone. In spite of that, you only called him as a last resort. because Trejo didn’t work for money, he only traded in favors. And not any set type of favor either. He could ask for anything, at any time.

Rumors swirled on the things he had demanded from clients, ranging from a night with one clients wife, a heart transplant from another clients child to save one of his own, or to pardon a buddy of his from death row. There'd also been a few more reasonable requests like a rare Hermes bag for some guys wife, and a pet snow leopard. Something like that was easy for him

The Marquis was a very powerful man, with nearly endless resources, but he hated the idea of being in debt to anyone.

He had risen to the top and answered to no one. He was even more powerful than he had been when she ran out of his life. Up until now, he had refused to admit he was so desperate to find her. But the reality of his situation was the memory of her, and not knowing if she was safe, was driving him insane.

“Lilly.” He groaned as he fell back into his chair. “You have been such a bad girl.”

Across the world

“Oh come on, it’s just the fair! No pressure, but I’d like for you to just meet him. He’s such a great guy, and very private.” Lisa begged her friend Lilly, that lived outside of their small town, in a quaint cottage in the woods.

Lisa had always been a warm social person, and three years ago when she heard about the gorgeous French woman that quietly moved in the old cottage, she had made it her personal mission to get to know her.

It hadn’t been easy. Lily had been standoffish and extremely introverted. Lisa had thought she was shy at first, but as time went on she started to think that Lilly was running from something. With how drop dead gorgeous she was, she was sure it was a man.

Every unmarried male, and a lot of the married ones too, would give their right arm to take Lilly on a date. Unfortunately she showed no interest in any males, or the handful of females that had tried either. Lisa started to back her up, by informing g all hopeful suitors that lilly preferred her solitude.

And she had been prepared to accept that her friend was a loner, even if she could not wrap her head around it. But then she'd been at the store the other day, talking to James, and Lilly had waved hello, and James had asked to meet her.

James was Lisas older brother, that every girl in town wanted to marry. She'd had her feelings hurt several times over the years, when she had discovered most of her girl friends were only after her brother. He was too focused on sports and school to even notice any of them, and didn't like the sort of girls that threw themselves at him, so he'd avoided dating anyone all through school.

When he'd moved away for college, everyone thought he'd come back and visit someday. He'd be a successful executive, in a fancy SUV, with a perfect wife and a couple perfectly polished children. He'd always been so focused on his goals, good at everything, and liked by everyone he met, so everyone was convinced he'd never be back.

Lisa had always wondered why nobody wondered if he was gay. There were not any openly gay people in town back then, but he had met a lot of the stereotypical gay checkmarks she saw on TV. He was a pretty boy, that dressed impeccably well, for the area. His room was always spotless and organized, and he had a skin routine. He was very much into self care, and followed a strict diet to maintain his physique. He listened to EDM music, and he turned down all the beautiful women in town. In spite of these signs, not one person questioned his sexuality. She would love him no matter what and that had been that, but she agreed that he'd never move back to their small town.

That was until three months ago when he'd shown up out of the blue to tell her he'd bought a house and was there to stay. He'd bought the Myrtle House on the hill, and was restoring the old Victorian mansion to its former glory. It had seemed odd to her, that a single man would buy a mansion large enough to house 10 families, but it was a very pretty home, and if she had the money, she'd likely have bought it too.

"Well you remember that man I was standing with at the market the other day?" Lisa didn't wait for an answer and just rambled on, "that's my older brother that is restoring that mansion on the hill. He works on that place around the clock, getting it up to standard. Now it was never run down, it was just a bit old fashioned, and a lot of house for most people to keep up with. Just dusting the whole place with all those antiques, is actually one woman's full time job. He has a few house people and grounds people to keep up the maintenance. He's modernizing it functionally, but trying to keep it authentic aesthetically, whatever that means. I never know what he's talking about, but he's actually taking a break and coming to the fair with me and the kids! This never happens, he's like you and prefers his solitude. But oh if I could get my two favorite hermit people, to eat some cotton candy with me, before risking our lives on some rides, that some felon puttogether in 20 minutes, while chain smoking a pack of Newports, I could die happy."

Lilly looked at her friends hopeful expression, and bit back the automatic denial she was about to deliver. It has been three years, and she had taken the necessary steps to disappear. Cut ties with all her friends and family, and kept to herself. If Vince hadn't found her by now, then he probably never even bothered to look, and she'd gone through all that trouble for nothing.

“You know what? Okay. I’ll go to the state fair with you tomorrow. Maybe I'll even make another friend."

Lisa nearly fell out of her chair. Recovering from her shock quickly, she jumped to her feet and hopped up and down clapping. “Oh my god I am so excited. You won’t regret this. I gotta head out, but we’ll be by tomorrow about 5 to pick you up.”

The two women hugged, and Lilly couldn’t help but feel excited over the prospect of doing something so simple as going to a county fair. She had definitely noticed Lisa's brother the other day as well, who had been so shockingly handsome when they met eyes, that she'd lost her ability to speak, and had just waved like an idiot, and kept walking.

Running a brush through her long golden locks, Lilly wondered if all her caution was even necessary. Maybe she was flattering herself thinking Vincent would even come looking for her. He likely had a whole collection of new women to use whenever he saw fit.

She’d watched as the man she loved, became a monster with every bad deed. At first he had been so mysterious and exciting. Everyone knew that he was one of the few surviving families of the French aristocracy, and that he was gorgeous and wealthy, but that was about it. There were pictures of him at various wealthy people events, or the occasional article or magazine dedicated to what he allowed the public to know, but that was vague at best.

She'd been 22 and had thought her love could save him. That if she just loved him hard enough, and was obedient, it would soften his heart. When her friends told her he was controlling and possessive, she'd scoff and say it was protection. That was his love language in her mind. If he took care of you, and cared enough to take time out of his busy day, to keep you safe, than that was flattering. The security detail, location tracking in her jewelry, drivers, and 24 hour surveillance of where they lived were thoughtful precautionary measures. She had to quit working because she made less an hour than one of her security guys cost, and she had three. Plus she needed to be available when he had time to spend with him. He also was very fashionable, and expected her to always look clean and polished.. that in itself, was nearly a full time job..

The first year with him, she'd convinced herself that she just didn't understand how rich people operated, and rationized that he couldn't be a criminal,and famous at the same time. She had learned the art of fooling one self in record time.

The second year she had seen too much to deny the type of people he was involved with. Ever delusional,, she was still convinced they were the bad ones, not her Vincent. He was just a victim of circumstance.

By the third year, she could no longer lie to herself. He wasn't just involved or caught up with the wrong crowd. The Marquis de Gramont was their ring leader; their boss. And the most dangerous man in Paris. She was just another one of his things that he controlled with an iron fist. Everyone had been right.

Back across the world again..

The intercom buzzed and the Marquis took a deep breath before answering. His assistant had been successful in getting Trejo and connected the call.

"Bonsoir. J'ai besoin que tu trouves quelqu'un de très important."

"Shit, I have no idea what you said there, but let me just say it's an honor to finally speak with you Mister Marquis! Can I call you Vinnie?" The man boomed through the telephone.

The Marquis dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples. Hehated when people were so I formal with him, but he'd just have to let it slide for now. " That is fine. I need you to find someone very important to me. I need your absolute discretion and the target must not know she has been found. Can you accomplish this?"

"Shit yeah. You scratch my back amigo and I'll send you the address of that Lilly girl that ran out on you a few years back. I'll even get you a couple of nice pictures if you like."

The Marquis eyes shot open and he was temporarily stunned into silence. "How? When? Who?" He shook himself literally to get ahold of himself. He was nobility, not some bumbling peasant!

"I have always been pretty good at figuring out what people want, before they even know they want it." Trejo shared. "Now have we got ourselves a deal. I don't have a favor in mind yet, but I'm sure something will come up soon, you can help me with."

The Marquis fists clenched and he took a deep breath. He didn't even care about what this man desired. He'd have it. Nothing was too much for her. He'd go pick her up himself. Show her he'd forgiven her for her little tantrum, and she was never to do it again. She was his and that's all there was to it. She was coming home.

His Lilly

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (6)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Toto makes it harder for her to not flirt in front of the cameras, and with the comfort that came with it, Tilly doesn’t even see the bad parts of the media. Not until the next day.

Content warning: Age-gap, mention of Kimi Raikkonen flirting, whipped!Tilly and Toto caught in 4K, touchy feely vibes, brief use of explicit language

Note: We getting that communications studies degree starting this fall 😩 omw to bag that f1 money ykwim 🙈

Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 140 FOLLOWERS?! You guys are batshit crazy and I love you all for it. I hope my cracked-out thoughts somehow made your day… or more. Here’s another chapter for our dearly beloved Toto. Enjoy xx

masterlist

vi. love on camera

   I’ve been with the sky sports people for almost three hours now. My feet are thankful for sticking to a pair of low pump heels instead of running around the paddock and garage with a five inch heel. 

And I’ve been thanking myself for dressing well enough today. It doesn’t even look like I’m here as a support for Red Bull. My linen shirt is loosely tucked in my bell-bottom jeans, two buttons are undone to allow the air to flow freely through my body. The Chanel belt hugs me so tight, I feel as if I have little to no oxygen to breathe in. A Red Bull jacket is worn over my shirt, and I left it unzipped as I feel warm. 

I had never worked on a full live set before. It was nerve wracking to say the least. But after finding out that my father practically sold me, I feel as if I have nothing to lose. Suddenly I’m worse than a pessimist. 

My sisters made sure to tell me that I’m live on television by sending filtered photos of myself. Our youngest sister is the one having the field day with the group chat. She’s been showing her friends that I’m on television. She better be thankful I love her. I never enjoyed being the topic of a discussion. I’ve heard enough from Christian, thank you.

So far, I haven’t thrown up nor fainted. That counts right? That means that my first two interviews went alright. I just have to laugh along. That’s what I did with Fernando and Kimi. They just laughed along, and flirted a little with me.

Or rather, Fernando joked and Kimi flirted; something about going for a drink? Yeah, certainly. The man doesn’t even talk much, but the Iceman definitely suggested we went for a drink (the right words were: “There’s a bar downstairs at the hotel that you may like.”) Fernando’s married and has a nearly year old baby— I would really hate to do something demoralizing.

It turns out, laughing along with their banter will bite me in the ass. Because I know my sisters will be the ones laughing at the television. 

The cameras are already recording and I can’t hear myself speaking as I introduce Lewis and Nico Rosberg to the camera as if I’m speaking to an audience. Then I remember talking about the qualifying today, asking Nico about taking the pole for tomorrow. 

My words are simply flowing out of my mouth as the interview goes on.

“Are you excited?” Few minutes passed by, I then turned to ask Lewis a question.

“For wha’?” He asks, obviously confused as he zoned out during my conversation with Nico. 

“Home race? You coming from Britain and representing the country?” I remind him before joking, “Or did you forget you’re British too?”

“I certainly did,” he realizes what I meant just about now, “but yes. I’m very excited. If the weather treats me right tomorrow, I’m confident that I’ll be able to make it to somewhere of a higher rank.”

“It’s okay, Lewis,” I chuckle, Nico rolls his eyes beside me. “You can say P1. No one’s going to be against that.” 

“You want me to get P1?” He teases me.

My face gives an incredulous expression, making him laugh. I joke, “I feel like I’ve told you this a million times now, Lewis. Do you want me to whisper it in your ears while you sleep too?” 

“God, no,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “your support is highly appreciated, Tils. I am so glad you’re here.”

“That’s why you should go for P1 tomorrow,” I nudged him, microphone still in hand. 

“Only for you, lovely,” he lips pucker up as I roll my eyes and place my flat palm against it. He murmurs against my palm, making people around us giggle. 

Nico adds, “I think you shouldn’t appreciate her support that much, mate. She still works at Red Bull.” 

Lewis finally pulls away and gives me a mocking dirty look, “Right. I knew there’s something dodgy about you.” 

“Thanks Nico, for turning my own best friend against me,” I exclaim in a cheery tone, a smile still in my face as there’s a voice incoming. There he is. 

My smile widens, I feel like I’ll have wrinkles at this early age. The space immediately shrunk when Toto stepped into the scene. He stands a few inches taller than me, interrupting his drivers’ interviews. 

“And here we have,” I introduce him to the camera and ask him about his thoughts on his drivers’ positions for tomorrow. I absentmindedly nod, looking at Lewis and Nico here and there to avoid being caught staring at the tall bloke. Have you ever seen someone so fit you’d continuously waffle on about them until he gives you the chance to snog you? This certainly isn’t me talking.

“Are you supporting Lewis tomorrow?” He asks me with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Surely you are, right?” 

“I’m wearing a Red Bull jacket, guys,” their voices let out the heaviest laughter I have ever heard. “I’m certainly supporting Lewis, a Mercedes driver, to win tomorrow. Me, someone who’s wearing a Red Bull jacket.” 

Then, as I was chatting with the drivers, Toto pulls his sleeves up and takes off his black jacket, the three pointed star and his name embroidered. His outstretched hand holds the jacket in my direction as I pause from talking.

“What, what is this?” I ask, almost playfully. What’s he doing?

“You said you can’t support Lewis because you’re wearing a Red Bull jacket,” Toto shrugs with a cheeky smile, “you can have my Mercedes one. It’s a bit big but so is your jacket.”

“I really am jesting, Toto,” I giggle, watching him pull his hand back with a little smile. “I’ve said that I won’t be playing favourites so I will stick to my neutral place.”

Lewis reaches for the microphone and speaks over it, “She’s lying. She’ll support me regardless of what jacket she wears. Us Brits have to stick together.” 

“There you have it, folks,” I gesture at Lewis, “he’s explained it perfectly well. Us Brits have to stick together, indeed. I hope I don’t get banned from my own workplace after this— if I did, thanks Mercedes.”

“Well we told you that we’d be more than willing to take you in,” I look at Toto as he smirks, “it would be a shame for their part if they let you go.” 

“You lads flatter me so much,” I roll my eyes mockingly, grinning at the three as I say, “As I said, I’m supporting Lewis because it’s Lewis. I did not say I favour one team over the other.”

“You will, soon enough,” Nico chuckles. 

Lewis pulls me in and says, “If I win tomorrow you should do what you have to do.” 

“What do I have to do?” I ask him, wondering what he’s hinting at.

He shrugs and whispers to my ear, “Go on a date with Toto.”

I pull back and stare at him for a second. I really considered that huh. As if I hadn’t gone already.

“I have already. So don’t get too cocky, eh,” I tell him, his eyes widening as he eyes Toto for a second, my nudge tells him to stop as I dismiss the matter, “having an ego can get you places. But not P1.”

“Watch me,” Lewis grins at me. Like a piece of shit. His eyes also are asking me to tell him more about what was just revealed. I nod briefly, excited to tell him about it.

“Well,” I look at the camera, “that’s it for today. Tomorrow will be the 9th race of the 2014 FIA World Championship and we cannot wait to see how these drivers perform in such weather conditions. Best of luck to all. My name is Tilly and I hope you have a good night. Thank you once again, guys.” 

It didn’t take long until the wires on my body were taken off by Lydia, their media pen assistant. Nico and Lewis had already left. Toto waits for me until I start walking off the scene. 

We walk all the way to the motorhomes, silence shared between the two of us. 

“You left quite fast earlier,” Toto utters. This is the first time we’ve walked together since earlier this morning, and this is the first time he’s spoken to me after I’ve managed to avoid him hours after the breakfast date. I look at him. 

Then I remember walking away from the scene after arriving at the venue. Now I know what to tell him after seeing me speed walk from the sight of him and the journalists.

“Some of the reporters in there were the same people who harass me whenever I’m out and about,” I explain, not wanting to make a big deal out of it as I continue, “I didn’t want to be the centre of the attention today especially now that… yeah.” 

“With you interviewing the drivers for Sky Sports, I can assume Christian told you about Julius’ promotion?” 

I let out a heavy sigh, shutting my eyes close for a moment as I tuck my hands into the pockets. How do I not lose my shit?

“It’s something Julius needs to speak to me about,” I grimace, “if he wants me to do this then he’ll have to tell me upfront.” 

But it’s not like he’ll ever show up. I’ve never seen him since the day I was called to his office building. That was when I was told about this role that I didn’t think would be… important and big. 

“He’s a bit more involved than I thought,” I laugh humourlessly, “I don’t even know how to start with it. I don’t know how you do it.” 

“You’re just handling however much you can,” he tells me, “Christian and the others are more than happy to help you get a head start. You don’t have to get yourself involved with the engineering and strategy part.” 

“I have three degrees,” I deadpan, “three of which have nothing to do with building a car, let alone know the full terminologies. So between my father and I, I think I have less advantage in this field and he’ll most likely fail if I’m the one taking care of it.”

He pauses for a second, making me stop walking as well. My eyes are staring at his dark ones, my brows quirked at his sudden pause. 

“You are confident in front of a camera,” he starts, “I think you should be confident with how you will handle the business passed on to you, no?”

“Yeah I suppose,” I sigh, putting my head down as I keep my hands tucked into my pockets.  “I need to stop being sad.” 

But his chuckle did it for me. That and the way his heavy hand reached to mess with my hair. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“Where?” I ask him, looking up at him once more only to witness his eyes twinkling. 

“Back to the hotel because we all have a long day tomorrow,” he tells me, “that, and I do not exactly wish to have a conversation with any other people at the moment.” 

“Pshh,” I scoff with a grin, nudging him while I wag my eyebrows,  “I have heard a lot about you from Christian.” 

“Huh? Really?” He asks, his face has a mischievous smile that I’ll never mistake for someone else’s. I’ve seen him smile a lot. It’s quite a shame other people never did. He’s handsome and not many people have seen it. Too bloody blind, if they haven’t. 

Or he needs to smile more. But that’ll only scare people off.

“Yeah,” I nod, “something about you deliberately approaching him yesterday?” I raise a brow, still not letting go of my shit eating grin. I then notice the collar of his jacket and reach out to fix it as I playfully say, “Some may say that you’re interested in their acting Liaison.” 

“Hmm,” he hums as if he’s considering it, “did I not show you that earlier today at breakfast?” 

I burst into a fit of laughter as I shake my head, as if I’m telling him, “Unbelievable.”

Have I ever mentioned that this is happening around other people? People with cameras? 

And here I am whining about adding fuel to the fire. It’s quite difficult not to if the man in front of me continues on doing what he does best. Existing.

[themandjetofra]

The Nejeru and the Presidential Election in America

Hey everyone, I know I’ve been a bit dead recently. Sorry about that! I haven’t had much new art to share lately, though I’m hoping to work on a drawing of Ammut sometime this weekend. Honestly, I think I’m done trying to stick with weird blog format. It just feels too forced and doesn’t align with what I want this space to be lol.

Im not going to give you the "Oh, not to get political, but..." stuff here. Yes, yes to get political. I am going to get political because, frankly, this is my blog, my space, and I can express my thoughts freely. If you don’t fw with that, you’re more than welcome to leave. I genuinely can’t stand Trump supporters. This isn't the place for you.

Yes, both Trump and Kamala have massive flaws, but let’s face it, American presidential elections have always been choosing between two evils. But the fact that an actual felon managed to win just blows my mind. It’s appalling to think that people are willing to overlook his blatant disrespect toward women and the LGBTQ community (both of which I’m a part of). Sure I might lose my rights, but at least gas will be cheaper... /s

This election has been a heavy blow to me, and honestly my soul. I’ve been pouring my heart into prayers and spells, asking the Nejeru for guidance. And yeah, I’ll admit, it stung a lot when it felt like my prayers fell on deaf ears to them. I’ve spoken to others in my faith and even folks who follow other ancient pantheons, and I’m not alone in feeling upset and betrayed.

So, I had to take a step back. I needed to breathe, to distance myself from everything—my work, my faith. But that doesn’t mean I lost my belief in the Nejeru. They’ve been there for me countless times, and I know that. Instead of letting my frustration consume me, I chose to reflect on it. Why couldn’t they intervene this time? Or, maybe, why wouldn’t they? And after some time to think, I eventually reconnected with my faith.

One thing I know is that we need to see the Nejeru in the context of their origins— Ancient Egypt. If you didn’t know, every Pharaoh was essentially a dictator. Even under divine guidance, bad things still happened. Some years, the Nile didn’t flood. Sometimes, things just went wrong. The Nejeru aren’t like the God of Christianity or Catholicism. They’re not “all-powerful.” If they were, they wouldn’t need a pantheon of over a hundred gods to manage different forces. They’re incredibly powerful, yes, but there are limits to what they can influence.

A major factor is the concept of free will, something that was deeply important to the Nejeru. They believed in allowing humans to make their own choices, to live their lives as they wished, even with rules in place. As Ra said in the Coffin Texts (1130): "I made every man like his fellow; and I did not command that they do wrong. It is their hearts that disobey what I have said. This is one of the deeds."

No god controls our souls. They don’t dictate our choices. Sure, they may judge us after death, but what we do in this life is entirely up to us. I highly recommend checking out “The Dispute of a Man with His Ba”, a translated story that implies much about free will in Ancient Egypt. When it comes to elections, that is free will. The Nejeru aren’t going to intervene in a democratic process where individuals are making their own choices. Whether people are misinformed or not, it’s still their decision. The outcome, as frustrating as it might be, is not something that the Nejeru can or should control. Doing so would mean infringing on the free will of millions of people. So, please, do not put the blame on the Nejeru. They’re not responsible for the choices people make. But we can lean on them for guidance through these hard times. Take care of each other. Take care of yourselves, check in on your friends, and remember, you are not a burden to anyone. Let’s focus on how we can support one another through this. Sending love and strength to you all.

- spheenx

💗

[crisiscutie]

“Hey, Sephiroth…” Zach approaches “may I… ask you a question?”

“Of course, go ahead” Sephiroth doesn’t turn away from the file he was analyzing

“I once tried asking Angeal about this, but he didn’t really want to talk about it” Zach begins, he’s a little apprehensive “back in my village, there was a 1st Class SOLDIER… her name was ___”

The atmosphere quickly changes, Sephiroth’s closes the file and looks at Zach with side eye

“Yes… there was” Sephiroth says, his voice becoming deeper as he tenses up. He seems to realize something, but says nothing

“Do you remember her?” Zach asks, looking hopeful “she would talk a lot about you-“

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Sephiroth doesn’t let him finish, turning to him “I always thought your name sounded familiar… but I assumed it was merely because of the simplicity of it”

“S-she talked about me?!” Zach seems excited, almost relieved someone remembers her

“Of course” Sephiroth almost smiles “her proud and joy… the little boy who she trained to follow her footsteps one day. It’s no wonder you remind me of her”

“She was like a big sister to me, my mentor” Zach smiles fondly at the memory “when Angeal didn’t want to talk about it, I became worried. After her death, it’s almost like it was taboo”

“It was” Sephiroth says “it *is*”

He walks towards Zach, and stops to look at the window just behind him

“It was shinra’s fault… of course they’d try and cover it up” Sephiroth says, frowning a bit.

There’s something else, but he won’t share

“She would always talk about you” Sephiroth chuckles “always sad she couldn’t visit you, saying she missed home and her “little brother”, as she would put it. But she always thought she’d see you in the ranks one day… or convince shinra to let her visit her home town”

“Yeah… I’d always read her letters, although for some reason it seems like the ones I wrote never arrived” Zach says “but she was able to visit sometimes, in one of those she even talked about you!”

“Did she?” Sephiroth says, a small smile on his face “I suppose she would… we were close” he says that last part with apprehension

He frowns for a bit, but his face softens again as he turns to Zach

“She would be proud of you”

“Y-you… think so?” Zach says, surprised

“Yes. Not only because of the SOLDIER you’ve become but…” he pauses “it was one of her last words”

“…what?” Zach softly asks “you were there? When she died?”

“Yes, I was” Sephiroth says, his expression unreadable “she was sure I’d see you one day, when you’d become a SOLDIER, so she asked me to tell you how proud she was of you. She said that no matter what happened, she was proud just by you following your dream”

Zach is speechless. He wants to cry, but he’s also overjoyed

“…thank you” Zach says, he seems completely genuine “for telling me this. I didn’t know she had so much faith in me” he chuckles “it is just like her though. To never lose faith on other’s” Zach seems to have a newfound confidence

“Yes” Sephiroth says, his attitude is cold yet again “I guess it is”

“You know, we were told she died alone… that her body was never found” Zach whispers, looking down

“…I didn’t know” Sephiroth brow’s furrow “I was told her body was sent back to her family for a burial-“

“But I’m happy” Zach says, looking at Sephiroth again “we were so distraught at the idea she died all alone. I’m still mad at shinra, of course, but… I’m happy she had *you*”

When he says that, something in Sephiroth shifts slightly, as if he flinched. As if connecting him to her caused him pain

“You truly remind me of her” he says

“Really?” Zach tilts his head

“Yes… you have that same hopeful smile, that same attitude” he smiles slightly “you really are honoring her memory, just like she would’ve wanted”

“Honoring her memory…” Zach repeats, then he smiles brightly “that’s right! I will keep doing just that”

Sephiroth chuckles, shaking his head

“I’m sure she would be happy to hear it” he smiles, but he has a vulnerable look

There’s a pause, they don’t say anything for a while

“Did she… say anything else? In her last words?” Zach asks

“No” Sephiroth lies “only a goodbye”

And a love confession. In his arms, while she bled, the words “I love you” suddenly became a source of pain.

(Yes english is not my first language how could you tell? Also I tried to make this as uncringe as possible but I believe I failed to deliver. Just wanted to write this little idea I had, thanks for allowing me to show it. Feel free to do with it whatever you like)

Holy cow anon, I didn't think you'd hit me in the feels with this one... 😭 Rest of you guys gotta see this one.

I find the idea of a dead darling to be quite interesting, especially when she acted like Zack's big sister. How did you come up with this anon?

Also, you did a good job writing this, don't feel bad!