#but i dont care about him enough to try and make a five image set work

[perfectsunlight]

(𝟏𝟓) - 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝗮𝗲𝗿𝗶 𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗵𝘂𝗵 𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

part of the series: best friends

warnings: angst, depression, grief

word count: 2,980

they say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

you went through the first stage immediately after yunjin showed you the article. at first, you refused to believe it. you denied everything immediately, but given the situation with chaewon, you decided to part ways. you figured the le sserafim members needed their time to take in the news they just received regarding their leader.

you also needed time to process everything that happened. it was only right that you would leave to process the news you received that night as well.

that night, you returned to the dorm and cried in yujin’s arms. you showed her the images, and the look on your leader’s face was one full of pity. yujin felt terrible. it was hard enough to see you such a wreck in the living room, tears cascading down your face. anyone would hurt to see someone they cared about in such distress.

however, it made her heart ache even more because yujin felt like she had failed you.

yujin’s arms braced you as you moved away from wonyoung, who was looking at the article with gaeul. the images of aeri’s hands against his chest, and his head buried in hers, burned just like the acid rain pouring down your face. 

“no,” you whimpered. “no it’s not her, it can’t be.” your voice wavered as you spoke, causing your member’s hearts to break even more. liz’s hand rubbed your back while rei began pacing. wonyoung had told the rest of the girls about your situation once she saw the dispatch headline. she wanted to help you by sparing you from re-telling the painful story several more times, especially since she knew how distraught you would be right now.

she was right, and at the time you were thankful for the small gesture, but you were too in denial to appreciate it fully.

“y/n,” yujin said softly, doing her best to not send you spiraling even more. “they have confirmed it’s her.”

yujin wasn’t seulgi, but she knew you needed to have support right now. the issue was, you were making it very difficult because you were so in denial. even with the photo evidence, you couldn’t fathom aeri having sex with him out of pure spite.

“can we just kill her?�� gaeul asked as she zoomed in on the photos one by one, earning a swift nod from wonyoung. “i agree.”

yujin’s gaze looked up as she gave them a ‘cut it out’ stare, shutting both of the members up immediately. leeseo returned from the kitchen with a glass of water, setting it down gently on the coffee table where you were sitting next to. 

your head was buried in yujin’s shoulder as she continued to do her best and not let your head hit the floor. the leader mouthed a “thank you” to the youngest member, appreciating how even though she didn’t understand fully, but still cared about you enough to want to do something at least, even if it was small.

“do you want us to call seulgi?” gaeul asked gently, trying to offer an idea to help the situation. 

you only started sobbing harder at the thought of your sister. your sister was the one who always grounded you, who was always there when you had to run and hide. you needed her. 

which was why she immediately came over the next day, when your denial started to turn into anger.

seulgi’s arms wrapped around your torso tightly as you let out tears of anger and frustration. wonyoung wasn’t present in the room with you two, thankfully, but you didn’t even think about anyone else other than the SM rapper.

“why would she do that? i didn’t even get to explain,” you sniffled into her shoulder. you didn’t understand how everything went south so quickly. aeri was your best friend, but you wanted her to be more than that. you thought she wanted the same thing, which was why you were so confused.

“i dont understand, unnie.” you choked out, only making seulgi’s heart squeeze tighter. when yujin had called her over, she explained everything that had happened. 

it took both gaeul and yujin convincing her to not go on a manhunt for the aespa member in that moment. giselle was her junior, but she didn’t care about that. her younger sister was in pain, and the person who caused such pain, was aeri. 

and when someone hurts you? seulgi wants to hurt them back at least ten fold. 

she knew you were confused and sad, but she also knew you had never felt this way for anyone else before. you were old enough to know that you felt things, but you were young enough to not really know how to navigate such feelings.

“just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s not true, y/n/n.” the dark haired girl murmured into your hair, placing a soft kiss to your temple. seulgi was just as confused as you were, but she was old enough to know the facts.

aeri’s feelings for you were as strong as yours for hers, but her pride was stronger. 

“i want to hate her,” you coughed out, chest dry heaving as you continued to weep. your head was filled with so many questions, to which you had no answers to. “but i can’t.”

however, one thing you did know was that no matter what you felt,  you knew you didn’t actually hate her. you just hated what she did, even though you were sure she hated what you did as well.

“i know, y/n.” your sister said softly, pulling your head from her shoulder so she could wipe your tears with her hands. “but everything is going to be okay.”

your sister’s words rang in your head as the next day brought you from anger to the next stage: bargaining. 

at first, you thought maybe it was just them being drunk and horny again. rumors were already spreading that they possibly could have been drunk online, which would make sense.

either way, you had done the same thing with yunjin, so it was only fair. you couldn’t be a hypocrite when you had done the exact same thing not just once, but many other times.

this idea all went out the window when SM entertainment released a statement regarding both of the rappers.

BOTH GISELLE AND JENO WERE NOT UNDER ANY SUBSTANCES AT THE TIME. BOTH HAD ALSO CONSENTED TO THE SEXUAL ACTIVITIES. DISCIPLINARY ACTIONS WILL BE TAKEN ACCORDINGLY. WE ASK FOR YOUR RESPECT AND PRIVACY AS WE DEAL WITH THE SITUATION. 

your thinking process then transitioned to thinking that maybe it was something aeri did out of spite. the aespa member was known for being petty, so you naturally would not put it past her to do such an act and willingly get caught for it.

it made sense to you, truly. why else would she want to have sex with him, unless it was out of pure spite? your best friend was a scorpio for crying out loud, everything she did just had to be ten times worse in retaliation.

your bargaining phase continued for a few days, until you woke up one morning to see SM entertainment confirming the relationship between jeno and giselle.

SM ENTERTAINMENT CONFIRMS ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN AESPA’S GISELLE AND NCT’S JENO.

the bargaining turned into depression in that single moment. you also began spiraled into a hole that felt like an endless abyss.

you missed practice twice, but yujin let it slide considering how you had not left your bed at all. wonyoung was worried, and often even checked to make sure you were still alive considering how you had not moved an inch. 

your roommate often left you alone, only being in the room when she needed to be. she wanted to give you the space and alone time you desperately needed, and clearly wanted, because she knew how badly you were hurting.

when you showered after practices, you spent hours standing there. the water beating against your body and head were a form of grounding, especially when the water became freezing cold and your body shivered as a result. you barely showered, but when you did, you were in there for so long that wonyoung had to make sure you were still okay.

you didn’t sleep much, or at least, you didn’t realize when you were sleeping. every day seemed the same as the one before. you lost track of time as you were also losing pieces of yourself. it felt like you were just floating, not really here nor there; only struggling to exist with your grief.

you stopped eating during that time as well, and as a result, it made gaeul forcefully feed you one slice of toast every evening because it was the only time you’d be willing to eat something. even if you only ate half of the toast, she made sure you would eat at least something.

IVE had a performance in four days, meaning that you could not afford to be out of it. inkigayo was no small occasion, and your members had spent hours practicing to prepare for it. 

you had done your best to show up, giving your all even though you looked miserable. your choreographer even was told not to ask about how you were doing out of fear that you would only break down again. 

at this point, you had run out of tears to cry because it hurt so badly that there was no point where you weren’t hurting. every waking moment of every single day consisted of the same sickening soreness. 

seulgi had told you that you cared, and because you cared so much, your grief was going to be as deep as your feelings were. unfortunately for you, this meant that you were going to be hurting for a while. 

your members knew how bad you were getting, which was why they called the last person who could possibly help you out.

the door to your room opened slowly, but you thought nothing of it, thinking it was your roommate coming in to get something. you didn’t bother turning to check, either.

you recognized it was yunjin from her scent as she wrapped her arms around your torso when she slipped under your covers. 

“hi,” she murmured into your messy hair. you didn’t bother turning to face her, already feeling numb enough to not really care that she was there. “you look exhausted.”

“why are you here, yunjin?” you whispered in a voice so small that if it wasn’t for the close proximity, she would not have been able to hear you. 

truth be told, yunjin felt guilty for snooping through your phone. however, she didn’t regret it in the slightest. while you were spending your days spiraling and avoiding contact with everyone, including your sister, yunjin had been calling yujin to ask about your condition on a daily basis.

“im here to see you, silly.” she mumbled into your cheek. the american was worried about you from the moment you left the le sserafim dorm. she saw the way your soul drained from your eyes, and now, she could see the life completely drained from your body. you were nothing but a shell of your former self at this point.

silence lingered for a while, you didn’t know how long. it wasn’t like you could tell anyway. everything felt the same. the never ending ache in your chest, the hole that only grew until it was swallowing you entirely. 

yunjin had sat with her own feelings long enough to know that she cared about you. she cared about your good days just as much as your bad days. she wanted to make sure that despite your darkness consuming you, she would try and shed even a small fraction of light for you.

and if she couldn’t shed any light on your situation, then she would sit in the dark with you so you weren’t alone.

“thank you, jen.”

the american was the cause of some of this as well, after all she had started this with you. it only made sense for her to stick with you until the end.

it was this realization that began your path of slow acceptance, and you finally felt the full effect of it the night before the inkigayo performance. 

you decided to take yujin’s request at the restaurant to heart. you were going to call her one final time, and if she didn’t answer, you were going to move on, even if it meant forcing yourself to.

your finger tapped on the rapper’s contact, thumb hovering over the green icon. swallowing your pride and anxiety, you pressed it, and left it on speaker as it rang.

the dial tones were deafening, as each one passed, your heartbeat only increased with anticipation. this was the final moment of truth for your relationship with aeri.

it had been a long few months of back and forth, but you had known aeri for years. aeri was your best friend before anything else, and you knew that if you left her life completely, it would be forever. 

years of history, friendship, and moments so intimate that no one else knew about other than you both. everything from the laughter to the tears, would be nothing more than mere memories. your heart ached at the thought of leaving the girl you cared about more than anything. 

you didn’t want to do it, in fact, you would rather run and hide from it all. it would be easier, after all.

except when the dial tone turned into a voicemail message, you knew you had to face the reality. 

“hey, this is aeri, leave a message after the beep.”

you swallowed thickly, phone shaking in your palm as you began the final message you would leave your best friend.

“hi aeri, it’s me.”

the silence made your heart break even more once you realized how ironic it was. you were never going to speak to her again after this. this was it.

it was now or never.

“i hope you’re doing good. because i’m not.”

“im not drunk either, so uh, everything i say right now is full of mind.” 

the silence continued to feed your emotions and tear at your shattered heart.

“i haven’t been since the date. im sure you haven’t been either. i just wanted to say that,”

a lump in your throat formed. you knew you had to say everything, even if it hurt. it was the last chance you would ever get.

“i’m sorry for what i did, and for not telling you. but i hope you know that even though i was sleeping with yunjin, i did it to forget about you.”

you took a deep breath before continuing. “there was never a moment, in our friendship or our situationship, that i was not wanting you. even after you broke my old phone when you dropped it down the stairs, or when you made me wear your shirt for a week, even though i hated it.”

the ghost of a smile appeared on your face at the fond memories with the japanese girl. you knew that aeri wasn’t a bad person, and you couldn’t hate her, even when she hurt you the most.

“and i even still cared about you–i still wanted you, even when you hurt me.”

your breath hitched in your throat as tears formed in your eyes. losing someone to death would have been easier than losing someone still alive. it only took falling for aeri for you to realize it.

“aeri, i know you made it so hard to fall for you. but i still fell anyway, even when we were still just friends. i liked you for a very long time. it was something i thought that would just go away, but then we started sleeping together, and,”

you paused to wipe the snot from your nose. a sniffle was all you could muster before you continued. there was no point in turning back now, you were already this far into the conversation. 

“and then i fell in love with you during everything.”

“from the way you laughed, the way you sang, the way you felt. everything that made you, you, was why i liked you in the first place, but it just made me fall in love harder when things got more intimate.”

“you see that night as a mistake, i know, you always said that. but to me, it meant so much.” a silent sob escaped your lips, tears falling down your cheeks and landing on your floor.

“then everything went south so quickly, but you would have never known how much it hurt me. because you didn’t even see me at the party,”

“and you never saw my feelings, so for so long i thought it was a mistake,”

“but even when you hurt me,”

“even when you made me cry, for hours. even when i still wanted you, after everything,”

“and even though you are the hardest to love,”

you swallowed thickly the lump that formed. you had to say it. you needed to say how you truly felt because it was the fist and last time you would say it.

it was the last time you would call her number. it was the last time you would see her contact name. it was the last time you would hear her voice, even if it was just through a voicemail message.

“i have to let you go. but i hope you know that,” 

the tears fell on your phone, soaking your fingertips that held the small device in your hand. everything was coming to a close, and your confession was the final key to closing this chapter of your story with aeri.

“i hope you know that i love you.”

[the-official-account]

episode.......25

and so it begins...or ends!

anything can kill a vampire it just has to happen a lot alsdfjal;sdjfasdlfkjas

"what do we have in the way of the tommy gun...ACAB but i'll take it" asdjlfa;sdlfjasf

one of my favorite parts of ttrpgs is the whole "buckle down to fight a boss" bits they're so satafying, the anticipation if palpable

okay the trip threat has been adjusted but in my mine vellum is still for sure looking 👀👀👀😳😳😳

spar is like "Bestie I have one emotionally intelligent braincell on loan from anya...but i'll do my best!!!" (I'm exaggerating, he's pretty savvy but asd;lfas;dlf)

I love how bridge worship's providence and their whole deal is STILL "dont fucking mess with those cards"

"When i don't know what to do I try to think about what makes the people I care about safest" Where's that *gently holds* image when you need it because AAAAWWWWHHHHHHH.

" we could try locking them up?" Spar no asldfja;wdsjf

The dreamy sigh i let out when spar said the whole "I trust you with my life" thing. That's the gayest shit he's said yet, I think.

Okay but all im saying is consider Xbala/Anya/Tatiana. Just consider. Really think on this. the ultimate chaos trio

"It's Xbala"

"Does she have anya with her?"

"yes"

it was establish that anya was standing behind her but my initial mental image was FOR SURE Xbala carrying's anya under one arm dfghsadflhgsfgsld

I feel like spar is trying to hard to exude "man of the house" energy all the time and normally that would work except 80% of people in the podcast see him as a younger brother-ish-situation. But he did good with anya!!!!

I think they should give anya a knife and set her lose though, that's just my opinion

SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA, SEE A LAWYER AND PICK EM IPAS DFA;LDSJFAS BY STUPID DOODLE IS CANNON NOW I HAVE DECIDED.

:O SPAR DON'T BE MEAN TO XBALA!!

"look i had real qualms about manhandling a lawyers" asdfjha;sdjfa;skdfj

"AND ANYAS LIKE i would bite you" QUEEEEEEN SHIT OH MY GOD

OF COURSE FUCKING DIAMOND IS TRYING TO DITCH OUT ON THE FUCKING DEAL. UGH!!! (DEROGATORY!) TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO!

Diamond better not be saying they're going to that meeting.

ipswitch noooo. Ipswitch i like you so much but don't fall for thissss noooo. something sus is like fore SURE going down adn i dunno what it is but i DO NOT trust it

COMMUTES VIA PARKOUR WHILE BLINDFOLDED HE'S SUCHHHH AS FUNNY LITTLE GUY!!!!!! OH MY BGOD

oh my god vellum but as a baby.....wait who is iris? I may not know an iris yet but I am VERY interested in vellum's work friends (in inventing names of one(1) random character for a fic I chose, or all names, naomi...........)

SPAR MAKING MATCHING SHIT FOR HIM AND SOREL IS SO PRECIOUS HOLY FUCK.

what ARE the xbala anya vibes. OMG IM NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO CONSIDERED THAT SHIP. Ooooh Xbanya is a really good name. Xatianya also??? At some point if you cram enough names together they make one (1) sci-fi russian princess.

Yeha maybe Lunavella's just a GILF. THE CAT/BIRD ENERGY there are layers...there are LAYERS to this yeah as;kldfja;lsjdf

as a listener I had not considered this I would assume the poleaxe was just like. a socially acceptable and sexy addition to an outfit

LALSDFJLSDFHGALKJSFD i was waiting for spar's reaction to the triple threat

I feel like if you're headed to the truth booth in your relatioship it oughta be ending anyway

MERIM I'VE BEEN ABANDONED BY MY DATE NOOOOOO Jakub ditching lunavella for QC is understandable and probably the best strategic but still a bit lame

Luna is sticking with vellum and bc you just KNOW she's a god at that etch-a-sketch. The kiddies in the olde elven kinda garden couldn't HOPE to keep up.

DIAMOND CAN YOU RESPECT EPIPLE'S AUTONOMY FOR FIVE MINUTES?

OOOOH THAT TELEPORTATION IDEA IS RAD

OOOOH THE HOUSING BEING FAKE IS SO GOOD

Do all the pendant work? Did they find a way to manufacturer more? If they can surgery everyone wearing a pendant like giving them diamond's mind control is a massive L but being able to identify that many members is super useful? Also fuck diamond.

"diamond is frozen in time" haha. Bitch.

EEEEEE voracity outing Merim like that aiiiiiint great. VORACITY YOU LEAVE SPAR THE FUCK ALONE. FUCK.

I really hope they get their backup in soon. Ahhh!!!!!

I'm glad to be caught up. My blood pressure will be slightly higher for the next 2 weeks

@threeheartscast

[calehenituseappreciation]

i hc wilbur made tommy president because he planned to go and press the button while tommy spoke and kill him along with himself

wilbur wanted end all his unfinished symphonies and as the person who raised tommy- he raised him like he raised l'manberg. he doesnt care for fundy- not since he denounced him- so he wanted to end him :)

i need a fic where tommy is the one who goes to stop wilbur and wilbur fucking stabs him before pressing the button saying "it was never meant to be" tommy loses both first and last lives to that phrase

tommys last words are it was always meant to be fucking wilbur survives the explosion and has no one to kill him and now he has to live with the consqunces tommy becomes toast- short for ghost tommy i refuse to write so many letters each time- and immeditly looks for his older brothers and he finds wilbur first :) wilbur is exiled for his crimes and also out of fear- they tried to rehabilate him! they really did but then he freaked out over seeing toast... in a bad way.... and he and toast burned georges house on toast suggest (maybe we should burn something! that always helps me calm down!) this is after wilbur is trusted enough to be not... in a prison... after phil convinced them he needs help and toast tries his best ok- (WHO LEFT WILBUR WITH TOAST!) (I THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME! I WAS ONLY LEAVING FOR FIVE MINUTES! AND RANBOO WAS THERE TOO!) and toast tries to go with but everyone is like "yeah no" and toast is like "whhhhyyy i just wanna stay with wilby!" and everytime anyone tries to tell tommy about the wrongs that have happened to him he screams and clutches his head in pain and everytime he comes back he doesnt remember the convo toast,,, is the most BABY toast calls everyone cutesy nicknames unironcially he calls eret rere toast, chriping happily: TECHIE!!!! tubbo: TOMMY STAY AWAY FROM HIM! toast, in a very lost and confused voice: why? techno, freaking out: tommy? toast: hi!!!!!!! im toast!!!!!! :D techno: lowkey ab to cry toast: NOOOOOOOO DUN CRI! toast: there there techie... i know what will help! tubbo, sighing: arson? toast: ARSON! phil comes just in time to find tommys dead body and l'manberg gone hes not around for the withers neither hes there just to see the crater and wilbur in chains with blood on his hands trying to off himself phil will forever blame himself for not making it in time :> dream: taking wilbur away in boat toast, floating behind the boat: o^o dream do you have any games on your phone .///^///. looks at exileinnit hmmm spins roulette wheel who should i hurt... i picked d all of the above they dont let toast go with him but because he is baby and you can't tell him what to do tubbo: sighs finally now that the exiles done toast can you- tubbo: looks up tubbo: GOADDAMN IT

toast is promptly kidnapped back to l'manberg the next day toast keeps going back tho and no one understands why- he literally killed him! why does he keep wanting to go back! (toasts unfinished buisness keeping him tied was helping wilbur and l'manberg- he loved wilbur even at his worst)

toast vibes around everyone but he stays with wilbur- where ever wilbur goes is where he builds his home

its shitty but its an 'ome Toast, teary eyed: Dad? Why does everyone hate Wilby? Why can't I be with him... Phil, with no idea what to do: niki bakes cakes with niki whenever hes in l'manberg he keeps accidently setting her bakery on fire but hes sMOL AND GIGGLES A LOT AND HE HAS FLOUR ON HE GODDAMN SELF toast is a part of mexican l'manberg i dont make the rules mexican dream: AYYYYYYYYY HOMIE toast, giggling: 'OMIE!!!!!

Toast is wholesome while everyone is literally willing to murder Wilbur while also trying to stop him from khs toast is just a very happy lovely child and cries whenever anyone is mean to 'his big brother wilby!' and so they all constantly glare daggers over toasts shoulder wherenever he cant see em meanwhile Phil is just dying inside because Tommy is a ghost by Wilbur's hands and Wilbur keeps trying to commit suicide and oh god what is he supposed to do- he simply avoids this struggle by avoiding them toast, waddling up to philza: papa do you have any games on your phone? all im saying is that tommy called phil papa before changing to dad or fathercraft phil,in the tired parent voice: tommy please sit down- just for five minutes- at least for 5 minutes toast: sits down and then proceeds to struggle to continue to sit but he must because dad told him to toast is just ADHD incarnate wilbur, trying to end himself: im gonna escape my consequences toast: HI!!!!! :D wilbur: FUCK ITS MY CONSEQUENCES toast,,,, is so baby Wilbur is just not allowed to have anything remotely sharp i like how theres so much angst and im just hyper focusing on ba yby dream uses toast the same way he uses ghostbur! :D toast doesnt realize of course even after wilbur tells him dream is bad but he keeps forgetting!!! Everyone: da baby Dream: how can I profit from this oh dream is manipulating wilbur btw wilbur: suffering toast: i made you a card toast trusts eret wholeheartedly and this hurts eret because she knows if toast remembered he probably wouldnt- they wanted redemption but not like this- not because of death Toast: you look cool Toast: you are friend now Eret: sobs I don't deserve this Toast: what did I do wrong Toast: how can I help friend!!!!! Eret: sobbing more toast looks at everyone says "ah! friend shaped!" if ur wondering wheres the angst toast is the angst- toast is just tommy without any bad memories and hes so different they thought he was happy before they thought he was fine tommy was hurt too but since he internalized it no one cared toast sees wilbur being sad and goes! i know what will help! n-not arson tho people dont like arson when you do it.... BUT ITS OKAY! I BROUGHT A FRIEND! shows friend, the sheep and wilbur just fucking sobs Toast is wholesome chaotic in a perfect mix- toast is tommy but without the 'asshole on purpose as a self defense mechanism" someone mentioned something about Tommy masking insecurities once Toast doesn't remember. and he's fine with that he doesn't have any insecurities toast hurts because in retrospect toast, meeting bad: WOAAAAAAH! YOU LOOK SO FUCKING COOL! bad: LANGUAGE! toast, cringing back, looking at the ground: ..sorry :( bad: ...you can swear toast: :D bad: once toast hasnt sworn since "hes saving it for special occasions" sometimes he accidently swears and immedtly gasps and looks at bad and bad just sighs and is like "its okay it was an accident" bad never would have thought itd take letting tommy swear for him to stop huh... its almost like... hes a child.... and the negetive reienforcement.... was doing more harm then good.... toast: exists in an amount of happiness no one has ever seen him in before everyone: pain how much pain was tommy in before? they thought tommy was happy- was... was he not happy? he's so unabashedly joyful and energetic looking back they can see how forced every laugh felt, every smile- He's not afraid to just talk to people, make new friends he became so much more cautious after Eret, had it really effected him that badly? He's open. He never lies about how he's feeling, never brushes anything away how much was Tommy hiding, how much pain, how much fear- It's chilling. bone chilling. There's no way to fix what's been lost. No way to apologize to who Tommy used to be, to try and make it better. None of them every bothered to see him as anything more than a nuisance, an annoying child or cannon fodder and they'll regret it for the rest of their lives everyone: having a mental crisis toast: GUYYYYSS!! I MADE ANOTHER FRIEND!!!

"Wilby?" Wilbur heard Tommys voice say in an innocent tone.

Was he hearing things? Tommy's dead. He killed him himself.

"Wilby why are you in prison?" The image of his little brother asked, "Did you commit arson without me?" it asked in a pout.

"TOMMY!" Tubbo yelled running into the cell where Wilbur was kept, going through the bars with ease, "Tommy get away from him!"

"But 'ubbo!!!! Wilby is 'ere!!!!" Tommy (?) said with a smile Wilbur hadn't seen since Tommy was a child.

"Tommy, I understand you don't remember anything right now but you need to come back over here!" Tubbo demanded and Tommy flinched

Wilbur was struck with the sudden realization that this isn't just his mind- no no it can't be- but Tubbo acknowledged him he has to- Wilbur reached his locked hands towards Tommy only for him to pass through him. What? No no it was just his imagination that makes sense.

"Oh sorry Wil! I'm kinda dead! I don't remember how i died... but i think im a ghostie!" Tommy said plainly, floating off the floor. Wilbur looked at him in confusion. Whats happening?

the first time toast sees the crater toast srceams in intense amount of pain- its so loud you can hear it all over the smp- and just dissapears for a few days before reappearing with no memories of what happened toast saying things tommy thought but never said- he calls eret "big brother" and eret fucking d i e s toast cals all the l'manbergians older siblings He's far too honest for anyone to handle tommy was always honest too but he learned from experince that honesty only lead to hurt Tommy was like an enderchest, you could never see beyond the exterior, everything inside was exclusive to him and him alone Toast is like when someone dies and all their fuckin items explode onto the ground. you just see everything and most of it was  pain and everyone feels bad because they thought he was the only one uneffected that nothing had ever put a damper on his happiness and energetic smile- at what point had that smile became fake? also for angst reasons the last memory toast has is before the elections toast has uwu boy vibes but more chaotic toast goes to dream smp from logstedshire purely for sam nook toast starts making his hotel since he sees nobody has a home (including dream LMAO) (and he wants to make a safe place since everyone keeps saying something about war) and wants to make one and asks sam for help since apparently hes good at building and sam lets him pay after he finishs the hotel and sam nook is there since day one because i dont think i could handle a world without sam nook toast: biting everyone tubbo: wHY DO YOU DO THAT?????? toast: once techie bit all the cupcakes and then said it was his cuz he bit it so im biting everyone to show their mine!!!!! tubbo: i- tubbo: i am both flattered and disgusted everyone, remembering how tommy used to bite everyone upon meeting and then everyone would get mad at him and yell at him until he stopped biting people on meeting: sadly whips and nae naes hes a BABY toast deserves the fucking world also i havent talked ab it but there is wilbur and fundy angst here fundy confronts wilbur also not that fundy is angry about not not not getting murdered by his father but also why does he consider tommy his unfinished sympohny and not him? he raised fundy too- maybe he just only ever loved tommy (based off his insecurity of how close wilbur and tommy are based off wilbur raising tommy and wilbur only being there for fundy by the time he was older and also using hybrid age go nyoom for this dream manipulates toast during wilburs exile along with wilbur and toast realizes both of them were being used by him and fucking screams lourder than he ever has before and dissapears for a week and then shows up at technos house (he got lost and he didnt know why he was at logsted shire- he doesnt remember the place) on the day of the excution and tries to help technoblade but keeps forgetting that everyone is trying to kill techno the butcher army is hesitant when "hey why are you all attacking big brother Techy-" "HE SPAWNED WITHERS IN L'MANBERG!" "he did?" toast asked tilting his head in confusion "YES! HE DID! AFTER YOU DIED! NOW WHERE IS HE TOAST! WE NEED TO CAPTURE HIM!" whenever tubbo talks ab how theyre planning on excuting techno or how there was no trial toast has flashbacks to tubbos excution but hes never able to hold on to the memories just leaving him feeling bad toast sees anything traumatic and just makes the blue screen noise toast has to reboot every time anything truamatic happens and when he does he doesnt remember what happens after

toast hurts on a "THE FUCKING IMPLICATIONS OF THIS" level just.. everyone trying to make up for not noticing tommys hurt and trying to be good to toast when its already too late... far too late glatt is also here because whenever ytoast dissapears after something trauamtic he bounces back to the land of the dead for the bit and sometimes he drags glatt out to the land of the living with him only works bc toast has unfinished buisness so he can freely go between and just stays in the land of the lving until he can finish his unfiinshed buisness ghostbur and toast wouldve been good friends if they ever met anyone yells at toast and he immeditly starts sobbing

basically when everything is calm and peaceful and everyone is happy together after dream is in prison and toast is like "oh... this is what ive always wanted"

"toast?" tubbo asked, confused toast smiled softly, "i think its time for me to go" "what?" wilbur asked his pitch unusually high due to the fear lacing his voice "i think... i think this was my unfinished buisness... this is the last thing i wanted when i was alive, the reason i stayed... i think its finally my time to go now" toast said smiling tearfully "no! you vcan't go! we just got you back!"

basically when everything is finally ok, when things finally calm down toast fades back to the void/afterlife thing

[writefightandflightclub]

Sink then float (Poe Dameron x GN reader)

Summary: Poe comes back from a mission to find that reader is experiencing a depressive episode, and he does what he can to take care of them while they’re sick. Hurt / comfort. Angst / slight fluff.

Author’s note: Was feeling super crappy at the start of the week (I’m ok now!) and this angst-bomb came out of me. Pleased to have finally written something, though it tackles a tough topic. I’ve tried to be as sensitive as possible while writing about depression, and while it’s something I have experienced in the past, of course it manifests differently for everyone. I have drawn on some personal experience to write this, but it is a fic. Therefore, it is necessarily outside of my direct experience, which opens up the possibility I may have gotten something wrong. Therefore, if you think there’s anything I’ve handled in a way that is harmful (even honest mistakes can be mistakes) I’m happy for you to send me an ask outlining this so I can correct and do better.

Warnings: It deals with reader in a depressive episode, and it is from reader’s POV. As such, it is pretty angsty, ngl, as reader’s thought process is in a bad place. The piece grows more hopeful as it progresses, and ends on a hopeful note, however it may still be difficult reading. I’ve actively tried to acknowledge in the text where reader’s thought-process is skewed by being sick e.g. when they say they are worthless, I’ve tried to directly counter this as it’s not objectively true. The last thing I want is for anyone to feel worse reading this, so I’ve tried not to validate reader’s most difficult thoughts (though what they’re going through is valid and it is valid for reader to be experiencing those thoughts)! That said, please take care when reading, as some of the feelings and thoughts set out may be triggering. Also, whilst there is no direct mention or suicidal thoughts or ideation, I am also warning for that, as there is some crossover in thought patterns. Ultimately, this is a fic about Poe being there to comfort reader, but reader finding that shred of hope inside themseleves, amidst feelings of hopelessness. I didn’t want to suggest that Poe could “fix” reader, so yes, they are still depressed at the end, but more comforted and hopeful than at the start. Sorry for all the warnings, but I wanted to be clear so you can make an informed decision on whether to read. Please stay safe!

GIF by @twillight​. Yowzers, it’s PRETTY AF.

There’s no poetry any more.

There are only syllables. Vowels like an orange in your mouth. Consonants rattling between your teeth. You speak only of sleep. Your words hollow like a worn, sprung mattress; inviting rest but offering no comfort.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

There is no art any more.

Not even in a thousand burning suns. Not even as you tip your face up to the milky black. Not even in his face; that face you love. You look, and you feel numb.

Numb. Numb. 

No music.

Birds sing. It’s just noise, ringing in the hollow of your body.

Noise. 

You want to sleep. It is all you want, and you merely want it because you want nothing else.

No dance in your body. No motion; only stillness.

No fight left in you...

What is left, then?

Nothing?

Nothing left.

Yes.

Nothing but the robust pang of hunger.

Nothing but the parching thirst.

Nothing but this weight on your chest, pressing you to the bed.

Nothing but the refresher door taunting you because you can’t cross the chasm in five steps.

Nothing but the guilt and self-hatred, and false, invasive belief that you are worthless.

Guilt because you...

Can’t.

So much then? So much where there is “nothing”?

You are simply so full of empty that it has pushed everything good down. It has pushed you down until you are sunken. Until you are yelling at yourself from below water, sound muted.

Everything muted.

Colours. Feelings. Life. Love.

Worst of all, your love will be home soon.

Home and sleep is all you...

Home and you haven’t even...

You almost think about ...

You sigh.

You can’t.

You can’t complete the...

You feel nothing, and yet guilty tears fall to the pillow. A part of you understands you are not to blame for being sick, and still, there is this guilt.

You have him. 

Poe. Poe. Poe.

So, shouldn’t you be happy?

Why can’t you be happy?

Love shakes the inside of your chest, rattling against the bars of your ribs and wanting to be known. Reminding you of what you lack. It hurts. Everything hurts when it flexes, even love. Especially love. It flexes and it feels only restriction. It feels only weight on its chest. Such pain.

He will be home soon.

You love him. You know this, intellectually. And yet, you don’t want to see him. Don’t want think of him. Because you don’t want to be seen by him.

Not like this.

You don’t want to let him down. You don’t want to break his heart by meeting his loving gaze so hollow. As if he is not sunshine. As if he is not a thousand suns blazing; and yet, instead of poetry and art and music in your heart when you think of him, there are mere syllables, images, noise. There are those vowels again, large like an orange in your mouth, consonants rattling in between your teeth as you cry muffled sounds into the pillow.

He’ll be home soon. You don’t know how soon. You don’t know how long you have layed like this.

Still, all you can do is lie empty, where the room brims with mess and misery and shadow.

All you can do is lie in this empty room, where you brim full with sorrow.

It is enough. This is enough. You are enough, though you can’t see it.

And so, because you can’t see it, can’t feel it, you bring your hands to your face, despairing. Your fingers find your hair, and it’s dirty.

You just want to sleep. You want to tug the covers back over your head and disappear but..

There is a rap at the door.

He’s home now.

A soft knock, then inistent.

He’s back.

After a week apart he’ll be so...

...disappointed to see you. At least, that’s what you mind is telling you to believe.

You turn away and close your eyes as he pushes through into the dark room. You cannot look at his sunshine. It is too bright, like the round circle of sun at the mouth of a deep well. You cannot look, so your eyes scrunch closed as he flicks on a lamp, and you hear his feet deftly pick through the mess on your floor.

You try not to look.

You try not to hear.

You try not to exist.

How can feeling nothing still hurt? How can you wish to feel even less than this, just to blunt your pain?

Still, you do feel something. You feel his sturdy weight settle on to the bed beside you.

You do hear. You hear him sigh.

Yes, he sighs, but it’s gentle, concerned, and his hand finds your shoulder, his touch like warm sand on your cold, goosepimpled skin. Rough and full of sunshine.That blessed sunshine you cannot -at the present moment-comprehend.

“Honey?” he asks, and you hear his voice, soft and tender. You hear his love, but you can’t feel it. No, you can’t.

His voice should ignite you. There should be blood moving beneath your skin but...

There is nothing. There is nothing in your mouth. Nothing but bones in your body.

“Honey, look at me, please?”

You peel your eyes open, bracing yourself for the disappointment you expect to find carved into his face. His eyes examine you, assess you, eyes flitting around the room to understand how bad things are. The state of you, the state of the room. The half-filled bottle of meds at your bedside- at least you’ve been keeping those up. That’s something. Something where you would insist there is nothing.

That look. That look in your eyes, your pupils like bleak, empty wells he tips his sunlight into, and yet he can’t reach the depths of you. Can’t warm all the way through, even as his eyes brim with tears and love.

He doesn’t look surprised, at least. He ran into one of the others first, then; Leia or Finn or Rey. They warned him. Warned him that you are worthless, a burden. No, you are not those things, you try to remember. They will have warned him that you are sick.

Suddenly, looking at him, you have words.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, your mouth as dry as sandpaper. 

“Why in the hell are you sorry, baby?” he asks gently, surprised now, his eyes searching yours. How does he do that? How does he look at you as if you are beautiful, even like this? Perhaps you are beautiful, even like this. Yes, you are. He sees it when you can’t.

“Because I...” you look away from him and sigh, even these simple words taxing your energy,”...couldn’t....”

Couldn’t get out of bed.

Couldn’t want to.

Couldn’t be happy when he came home.

Couldn’t want to.

Poe doesn’t judge you though. Not for this.

He’s Poe. Of course he doesn’t. Poe knows that people are not to be judged on such blameless matters. People are not the sum of their illnesses and struggles. You are so much more to him. You are everything to him, in fact.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. Always will. That doesn’t change when you’re sick. Why would it? Why would it?

“You did just fine, honey,” he insists through a thin, watery smile. “I’m still proud of you. I’m still glad to see you.”

You look at him.

He looks back.

You know you should feel poetry in it, like all the other times he’s come home. When your skin and your heart and your breath and your words and your lips were alive. When your body danced with his. 

“It’s bad this time?” he asks. “Like before?”

“I guess,” you croak.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself even though you dont deserve that hate for a second. You hate yourself for what you believe Poe must think of you, but you try to remember that your brain lies, and that Poe tells the truth. You try to remember everything he tells you over and over. You try to remember hope. Rebellions are built on hope, after all, and you? You are a Rebel; therefore, you know you must fight this too. A small, vanishing part of you knows that you can fight it, even if a louder voice in your head tells you you can’t. A voice with bad intentions. This sickness.

Still, you always promise Poe you’ll try. You always try. Have been trying. Even the refresher door becomes something that taunts you, a chasm between you and it as you try to make it there. You always try. Regardless, Poe’s always proud of you.

“Can I hold you?” he asks, his warmth and his unsurpassed beauty evident to you even now, even if it you cannot muster any ready response to it.

You shake your head.

“I’m disgusting.”

“Kriff, me too,” he says, his tone natural and easy, and refusing to shrink away from your pain- from the temporarary reality of you, as some do. “Came straight here. Five days on a mission without a shower? We can stink together,” he adds, with a tentative, lopsided smile, hoping to tease one from you too.

Poe has no trouble being hopeful, where that has never come easily to you.

Still, he’s here. He’s here at your side, all warm, sandy voice and his soft, loving eyes. Even if you had been convinced he would never come back. He is here. His rough hand is swooping over your cheek. Caring for you, even though he must be so tired himself.

Your eyes grow watery and your lower lip trembles. “I should be caring for you, you shouldn’t have to come back to me like this, after fighting...”

“Hey,” he protests, his voice hushed but his tone insistent. “You’ve been fighting too, baby. We both got our missions, yeah? If you ask me, I think you got the raw end of the deal.”

He’s perfect. He’s so perfect. You will the blood to move under your skin. You will your heart to ignite, but there’s nothing.

Correction; there’s nothing yet. It will come. It will get better.

Poe’s voice and eyes soothe you as you contemplate this. “There’s nowhere else I wanna be. I just wanna hold you. Okay, baby? Missed your beautiful face. Missed you so much. I’m kriffin’ lucky to come back to you.” 

Missed your smile, he might have said. You missed it too. Misplaced it.

Forgot how to...

Your thought-spiral is interupted as Poe shifts slowly on the bed, and he curls his warm, sturdy body around yours, holding his beloved little spoon tightly.

He’s wrapped around you, but you wish you could feel him.

Still, as his arms wind around you to tug you into him, you clasp his forearms tightly against your chest. A part of you knows. A part of you feels. You know how important this is. That he is home.

“Mission go ok?” you ask in monotone.

“Yeah,” he says, exhaling a tired puff of air into the back of your neck.

You wish you could melt for him and comfort him in return. You try, at least.

You try, but you feel like a gargoyle carved from stone, sorrow frozen on you. Face locked in a grimace. What mason would be so cruel as this? To make this bitter emotion permanent as stone? However, as he squeezes you tighter, fits against you so naturally, so familiar... As he touches you, you remember you are, in fact, skin and bone. You remember, even though the memory may be distant, that although your heart is heavy now, it once was light.

If it once was light it can be that way again.

He kisses your hair, even though it is dirty. He breathes you in, even though you are not clean. He loves you, and even if you think you are broken, he thinks you are perfect.

You are perfect.

His body heat suffuses through you, and you hadn’t realised how cold you were, until he warmed you. Poe had noticed, though. Poe loves you.

“Have you eaten? Drank anything?” he whispers into your neck, after a moment of holding you in gratitude and breathing deep, relieved breaths.

“Finn made me eat something,” you say, almost embarrassed, even though you know Poe does not judge you. “Managed half a ration. It was... today? I think it was today, I don’t know...”

“That’s good, baby!” he praises, entirely genuine. You feel him shift on the bed behind you, sitting up with his back against the headboard.

“C’mere,” he encourages softly, bundling you into his chest, and producing a ration bar from the pocket of his flight suit. “Split this with me while I tell you about the mission, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and Poe can hear that you sound a little sceptical. You doubt you have the energy to engage with him.

“I’ll tell you all the funny and horrific stories of your boyfriend’s heroics this past week. Shall I do The Thing as well?” he asks, and you swivel your head to look-up at him, seeing him tick up an eyebrow, slightly amused.

“Yes please,” you say, and you even manage the barest of smiles.

Poe proceeds to tell you all about his week as you nestle into his chest, his voice flowing through you like warm sand, pouring in and filling up just a little of the emptiness inside you. He also does The Thing, and he intersperses his animated storytelling with “your” part too, so that you don’t have to worry about upholding a conversation. So that you only have to listen, and you don’t have to worry that you aren’t able to react as you typically would. 

“That would be the bit right there you’d laugh,” he says as he recounts his finest dumbassery from the mission. A small smile inches over your face, as though you are rehearsing your own emotions. Trying them out. “Yeah, I think that one would be dumb enough to get a belly laugh from you.”

He continues.

“This would be the bit you would tear off my clothes because I’m a dashing badass,” he adds as he relays how he took down a ton of TIEs. “Yeah, definitely. You’d try to get steamy right about now.”  

It might be odd, but it is a comfort. It doesn’t remind you what you lack. You feel less of a deficit this way, as it reminds you what you’re capable of. That it is not always like this. That you do not always feel like this.

Will not, as soon as you’re better.

“And you, honey? Mission report?”  

You sigh, trying to think through what you have done, rather than what you haven’t. Even if the things to recount don’t sound as impressive as Poe’s, he always insists the battle is no less worthy. You are worth fighting for, after all.

“Well... I got a lot of sleep. Beebs made sure I took my meds.” It’s a short list, but what could be more important than that? The fact that you held on? Then, you have your first playful thought in days. “My love came home to me, and he thinks he’s all that, but he stinks pretty bad,” you tease, as if you weren’t in an entirely equal state.

“Kriff, you’re teasing me from your sick bed?” Poe’s chest shakes against you in gentle mirth. “Brutal, honey. Kriffin’ brutal.” You have a point though, he concedes. “We should both shower though, huh? Before someone catches a whiff and reports a possible herd of bantha in room z88?”

He clocks your trepidation as your eyes flick over to that taunting refresher door.

He squeezes your arm, and somehow manages to be encouraging without even a hint of being condescending. “Pretty far, huh? You can do it yourself tomorrow, but.. d’ya want your big strong man to carry you for now, baby?”

“Yes please,” you smile, and Poe shifts once again. First, he strips off his flight suit and tosses it aside, and then he peels back the covers and helps you to stand. Then, he helps you step out of your vest and pants, before swooping you up and carrying you the five paces to the refresher door, setting you down gently. You glance back at the rumpled bed, which still calls out to you, and although it is a short distance away, you feel like you have trekked across a damn galaxy.

Poe begins to run the water warm in the shower, casually handing you a fresh tumbler of water to sip on as he does so. Then, he takes your hand and eases you under the stream of water.

Poe’s broad hands lather up your body and your hair, feeling like an act of worship as he slowly, gently, washes days of rest away from you, without question. Without expecting anything from you in return except to let him- and even then, only if you want to. He then makes short work of rinsing off his own body, searching your eyes as he does so.

Water is a funny thing, you think- it can drown and it can cleanse. It can be gentle and forceful, deep and still or turbulent. After days of drowning, it feels good simply to be clean. To begin to rise to the surface.

You reach towards that circle of sunlight at the mouth of the well. You look a little deeper into his eyes. See a little further.

“A little better?” he asks.

You nod. A little better. 

You step out with him, and even though he’s tired -ragged from this mission- he dries you off.

He changes your sheets.

He picks your dirty laundry up from your floor and throws it in the basket. He throws away your trash.

He let the light in.

Literally.

Then figuratively.

Yes, you still feel so heavy. So, so heavy.

But you know. A part of you knows that lightness will come again, if you just hang on. You can see it. You can see that light at the surface, still out of reach, but not forever.

You watch him as he cares for you in all these small ways and suddenly there are vowels and consonants pushing out from beneath your ribs.

“I love you,” you say as you perch on the edge of the bed, right where he seated you, not thinking to move. 

He pauses, dropping what he’s doing and coming to kneel on the floor in front of you. Tenderly, ever so tenderly, he takes your face in his hands, and his warm eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen him, as if he can’t believe that you fought hard enough to push this love out from the depths. For him. Even though you are so sunken. Even though you cannot do it for yourself yet.

“I love you too,” he promises, entirely earnest. 

You push a small smile on to your face, even though you know you need not wear masks for him.

Yes, it got bad again, but it will get better.

You hang on, and that’s enough. More than enough.

You have to hang on, because there will come a day you’ll be so glad you did.

When everything in your chest rises up and gasps for air and lets you breathe again. You will break the surface and come back strong and eager for this life.

“It scares me when you’re sick. I love you so much.”

“I’ll be okay again,” you nod. “Or, I’ll try.”

That’s all anyone could ask of you. That’s all you can ask of yourself.

That is enough. More than enough.

You are enough. You are more than enough for him.

You look at him. He looks back.

His face. His face is art. You feel all those things; poetry, art, music, dance. They’re there. They’re just sunken. Muted.

Poetry is in the pauses too. The blank lines and empty spaces; in the missed beats. You will come back to yourself, and you will make new art. Feel new things. Things more full and replete with joy. Joy can clamber from out of the deepest wells, given time. It will. It will again.

“Can I kiss you?” Poe asks shyly. “Been desperate to kiss you,” he admits, the corners of his plush lips tugging up into a smile. He is sunshine. He is beautiful. Perfect.

You nod, and his lips meet yours, chaste and gentle, and not expecting anything in return.

You try your best to feel him. To feel at all.

You close your eyes and hope you will open your heart. It has begun, with a crack to let the light in.

There is fight left in you, even if you can’t see it. Even when you can’t feel it.

“I’m so happy to be home with you,” Poe says, and his words are greeted with silence.

That’d be the bit you’d usually say... I’m so happy too. But Poe offers his words freely, and you know he doesn’t expect anything from you in return. He doesn’t expect your happiness. He simply wants to give you his.

This is not a warm story, but he is warm.

Correction; this is not a warm story, not yet.

But, oh. Oh, it will be.

It was so, in the chapter before, and it will be, in the chapter which is coming.

And you? You will thaw, I promise. Not because of him. But because of you. Because you’re a fighter. Because no matter how long you may be sunken, you will float.

Poetry takes a breath sometimes. Misses a beat. It is not a waste. It is not worthelss, this pause. Sometimes it is needed. The big breath hope takes before it floats to the surface. So, maybe there is hope.

Yes. There’s hope.

There is hope.

Hope is like the sun. If you only believe it when you see it you'll never make it through the night.  Isn’t that what Leia says?

You will make it through this night.

This is how you feel now but will not be how you feel forever. You are not carved from stone. You are a fluid thing; you are made of water. Sometimes, you can drown in yourself, and sometimes you can be cleansed. You are always moving and ebbing, even if it’s so far below the surface that you cannot detect the shift.

This will shift.

Love and life and light are straining, deep down, and after all that straining, pushing, trying, when they resurface they will be strong.

There’s a reason they say hope floats.

It cannot be drowned forever, even if it is is drowned right now. It is not set in stone. You will float, up beyond that circle of sunshine. You will heal, even though you are hurt.

Poe knows this. His eyes tell you all this, but most of all, you know it; no, you feel it, in the depths of you. This is truth.

Poe peels back the covers, and he tugs you to his bare body, warm flesh against yours.

He’s tired. All his body can speak of now is sleep.

You are both tired of fighting, so for now, you must rest, and try again tomorrow. You stroke his hair and he strokes your back, and for now, this is enough.

Yes, for now, this is more than enough.

You are enough.

[rinstars]

hello risa! i'm coming off anon to share a fanart i did for cry for me ;-; i was going to wait until the end of the series, but i couldn't LOL. before i share it though, i just wanted to get these off my chest:

one. whatever you guys do, please do not read this in public if you cannot contain your emotions (i was going to wait until i got home, but anticipation got the best of me) 😭. i slammed my phone on the table so hard after reading this line: "unlike you, i respect the feelings i have for yura, y/n," OOOOOOOOOOOO I WAS SO HURT LMAO. my tears were hanging by the thread.

two. i know suna didn't mean any of the things he said to hurt y/n, but i can understand his reaction. he was simply frustrated and i'm assuming that he is confused with this whole situation now. i think it was also stated towards the end that he couldn't handle situations like this well enough.

three. everyone needs an osamu in their life :') i love his platonic friendship with y/n so much!! it's so heartwarming to see him worry about her. he's such a good friend and deserves the best.

four. there is so much miscommunication between suna and y/n which truly breaks my heart :( i kind of wish suna would've just told her that he was trying to push that woman away. but then again, there would be lack of action and angst.

five (connected with four). i love love LOVE how you made the plot and characters realistic. in real life, there is miscommunication and assumptions in relationships. nobody is perfect and everybody has their own flaws. i just hope they learn to forgive and communicate with each other after this argument.

six (last one i promise 😭). so.... suna does care about y/n. i've been wondering for the longest if y/n meant anything at all to him. interesting.... this should be a good sign, right :') ?

out of all the chapters so far, this one broke my heart into pieces. my throat was choked up with tears, ready to spill an entire ocean. you never fail to make my heart flutter and shatter. your writings are amazing and i would PAY for your works. don't forget to take your time and always make time for yourself 💕.

OH MY GODHEOGEOEHEI WAIT OMFGGEJGE IM ACTUALLY GONNA CRY WAIT 😭😭 OKAY LET ME ANSWER EVERY NUMBER FIRST

one, right omg that part was literally double blow from him it’s like admitting he still has feelings for yura and also insulting yn on how she doesn't even seem that serious with omi with how much she was "throwing" herself at others 😭

two, yeah exactly :( suna is very bad at this. going into cfm, the image i had of suna had been set as someone who wouldn't be able to handle heavy emotional confrontations well—much like his canon self and i wanted it to be the root of misunderstandings. he's very frustrated and very confused how what they considered as a little game has turned out like this yk?

three, OSAMU YAAASSS no hes actually perfect and thats the reason i want him to remain platonic with yn. she could use a guy she wouldn't fall in love with yk? just a genuine friend.

four & five, just like what i said at three, i really really want there to be stupid and frustrating flaws that make you wanna pull your hair cause how can suna be this dense and how can yn be this stupid but yk? thats their personality. i dont feel like switching it so we can read a "flawless" plot 😭

six, he does! and like he said he cares about her more than he'd like to admit which means, it's probably a type of care that scares him because admitting it both to her and himself means there's no turning back.

LASTLY THANK U SO MUCH OH MY GOD u dont get how happy this made me I'm actually baffled that someone would love cfm enough to make a fanart out of it :(( thank u so so so much babe ilysm and i really appreciate it it literally made me so happy 😭💗

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 1: THE BEGGINING OF IT ALL

It was quite dark in my room. Unclear of what's happening... Of what's going on... But one thing is clear to me... Someone is calling me from somewhere. Tossing and turning doesn't help the anxiety building up at the pit of my stomach. Come to me I'm scared... Dont be scared. I would never hurt you Who are you? Fall... With me... I don't want to hear you anymore... We'll rule as one.... This is just a dream... Denying won't keep me... This is not real... We are one... I'm hearing things...

Tears pricked my eyes and I shot up trembling. As I thought all of those were just a dream. With what little time have I caught my breath. My alarm stared ringing 6 minutes after I woke up. D/N, my dog, nudged my hand and looked at me with his worried eyes. "I'm good boy... I'll be good. Today's the class trip... I have to be good." I ran down stairs to see my mom cooking breakfast. "Hey there sweetie. You excited for the trip~?" She sang. I reluctantly nodded. "Yeah..." As mom set D/N's bowl she turned to me with a worried look. "You sure? Your enthusiasm sure tells me how excited you are." "Will D/N be coming with me?" On cue my dad already in his suit came down and gave my head a kiss. "Of course sweetie. He's a support animal, they have no choice." He smiled. Taking a pancake from the plate, he didn't bother adding butter nor syrup and bit it like bread. "Anyways, I gotta go. Have fun at your trip. And I'll see you after work." He gave me and my mom a kiss then left. "Start eating. We have to make sure you don't miss your bus." ~ The bus was noisy. Everyone is screaming and laughing loudly. I sat at the very front with Mrs. Rudolph. She's my history teacher and our class adviser. She looks like a grumpy old witch lady who eats children, but her personality is far from that. Which seems to be not enough for my classmates as they're very bratty in her class. D/N was currently laid on Mrs Rudolph's lap as she gently pet him. "Are we close yet Mrs Rudolph?" I asked. She gave me a smile, "yes quite close. In fact, it reminds me to remind you kids something." Picking up D/N from her lap she gently placed him on mine and stood up. "Attention!!" She yelled immediately changing from her soft demeanor. They kids instantly settled down and kept quiet. "Good, now... Is everyone aware of where we'll be going?" "Yes Mrs Rudolph..." We all reply. "And where are we going?" No one answered. I could sense she was about to get mad so I answered on my own. "Metropolitan museum of art..." "Good job Y/N!" She smiled at me and glared at the others. "We'll, I'd like to remind you lot that we won't be touring alone. Another school will be joining us, Yancy Academy! Now I wouldn't be the one supervising the tour, it'll be Yancy Academy's Latin teacher, so we need to show them we are capable and proper. I'm putting Y/N L/N in charge of the group. Listen to what she says and do participate when asked." Whispers started coming once again. I've always been Mrs Rudolph's favorite. It's not like she has a choice, I'm the only proper one among her students after all. "Keep quiet!" In an instant the whispering died. "I will not hear anything from your mouths about Y/N being in charge! She'll have the same power as I! If you have a problem speak louder and say it to me! Understand?!" "Y-Yes Mrs Rudolph..." The bus then stopped moving. "Y/N..." Mrs Rudolph rested an arm on my shoulder. "Lead them." She smiled and went out. I cleared my throat. "E-Everybody file ou-out properly an-and orderly... P-please." Grumbles and mumbles came from them as they did what I said. Once everyone was out I got out. I had D/N in my arms. The first thing I did as I got out was examine everything. From the distance, you could see the students who I assume are from Yancy Academy. A particular group had caught my eyes. A redheaded girl was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in a guy's curly brown hair, his friend was clearly agitated by what's happening and had balled his fist. "Y/N L/N." Mrs Rudolph called snapping me out from the trance. "H-Here!" "Okay so everyone is here. Remember, Y/N L/N is in charge. Now go mix with the Yancy kids." Mrs Rudolph clapped and almost immediately everyone ran towards the group. She walked up to me and pointed at D/N. "Dogs aren't allowed inside sweetie I'm sorry. We tried telling them." A whimper came from my boy as he scoot closer to my chest. "It'll be fine boy. W-would you... Mind?" "Not at all. I was going to offer after all." She smiled and took D/N from me. "Now run along and make friends. He'll be with you by lunch." I turned to see my classmates only to see them instantly making friends with the strangers. I could never do that. Getting closer I searched curly brown haired guy and his friends. A man had called our attention by clearing his throat, not giving me the chance to find curly guy. It was a middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket. "Everybody file." I said which thankfully they followed. "Hello to everyone." He gave us a comforting smile. "I'm Mr. Brunner, Yancy Academy's Latin teacher. I was told Y/N L/N will be in charge of your group?" I stepped up and greeted him. "All right. Well, feel free to mix in with the group. We'll be staying for a while." He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was listening to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, only one kid had been trying to keep them quiet and he keeps getting glares from someone who looks like Mrs Rudolph every time. Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. Finally, a snicker came from behind, and a kind of loud reply of, "Will you shut up?" Came. The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. The guy who had said shut up was the friend of curly. "Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "did you have a comment?" His face was totally red and he said, "No, sir." Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?" I looked at the carving, and back at the guy who looked relived. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" "Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." "Well... Kronos was the king god, and—" "God?" Mr. Brunner asked. "Oh uh..." He stammered. Obviously his one mistake got rid of all the information he remembered of the image. "Titan," I reminded him a little too loudly. They all had turned on me. "Ms L/N, care to help Mr Jackson?" "I-I, he knows... I don't..." I turned to Mr Jackson who looked at me as if he needed help. When he mouthed please I gulped. "H-He didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them..." As if he had a moment of epiphany, Mr Jackson looked at me and Mr Brunner. "Can you continue on Mr Jackson?" "Okay, Kronos's wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—" "Zeus fed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him puke his other five children, who were immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach." I interrupted... Oh god was that rude? "Eeew!" said one of the girls behind us. "—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," he continued, "and the gods won." "The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld." I continued. Some snickers from the group. Behind us, the red haired girl mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'" "And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?" "Busted," curly guy muttered. "Shut up," Ms Bobofit hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir." "I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "How about you Ms L/N?" I shook my head frantically not sure of what to say. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson, Ms L/n, You both did well. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, Mrs Rudolph, would you lead us back outside?" The class drifted off, the class still mixed with the other. "Want to join us for lunch?" Mr Jackson offered scratching his head. "Uhm..." My face was heating up I never had friends before. I was about to reply when I heard a loud whimper from outside. It was D/N's cry. "I'm sorry." I said and ran towards the sound. They were about to follow when Mr. Brunner called, "Mr. Jackson." Running outside I searched for D/N. "Hey boy, where are you?!" I called. Not long after I found him by the fountain alone. "Oh god, what are you doing here alone? Why were you crying? Weren't you with Mrs Rudolph?" I cradled him in my arms and lied on the grass. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Red hairedgirl was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Rudolph was with her look alike. "Hey," someone had looked down on me. "Sorry I ran. I heard D/N cry..." "Percy, Percy Jackson." He smiled. "Huh?" "I'm Grover Underwood." Curly beamed. "O-Oh... I'm Y/N L/N, this is D/N." He barked in response to the introduction. "Really?!" Grover looked at D/N in surprise. "Can I borrow him?! Please??" Me and Percy looked at him weirdly but I handed him D/N anyways. Grover sat on the edge of the fountain, and Percy and I close enough but not an earshot away. "Detention?" I asked. "Huh?" "Did you get left behind for detention?" I asked him. "Nah," he said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius. He thinks I know everything about Mythology and stuffs." "I think you are." I smiled at him. "You're pretty smart." "Yeah, well this genius is dyslexic." He smirked. "No way." "Way." "I am too!!" "What?" "Okay we're totally dyslexic twins now." I chuckled. "Totally." Being the awkward kid I am my stomach had to growl. "Want to have my apple?" I felt awkward and took his apple. "Thanks." We watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and had small talks about random stuffs, we ranged our topic from his past schools, to his mom, Nancy Bobofit the mean redhead, and Mrs Dodds his mathematics teacher. Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. Percy was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap where D/N sat. "Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos D/N tackled her down, not biting her but barking at her not letting her up. And Percy tried to held his laughter in. Nancy screamed at D/N and tried to hit him. When she had successfully hit him she glared at me then the dog. "This stupid dog!" She then kicked him. When his whimper came out. "Hey?! What do you think you're doing!?" I screamed. "You don't know how to control your stupid dog!" "You dumped your lunch on him he had every right to mount you!" Grover had D/N now cradled in his arms. My teeth were gritting at the sight of this redhead. I was about to lift my hand on her. I don't remember what happened clearly, but I was pretty sure the water grabbed her, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!" "No he didn't you liar!!" Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—" "—the water—" "—like it grabbed her—" I didn't care about the whispers. All I knew was that Percy was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on Percy. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if he'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—" "He didn't do anything! Why are you punishing him?! Weren't you watching what was happening?!" I glared at her. Staring straight in her eyes. I don't know where I got this confidence and everything but I am starting down the teacher Percy is most scared of and winning. "I'd like to apologize for the bad conduct my student had affected yo---" "Nancy Bobofit is in the wrong not Percy! She. Hurt. My. Dog." I could hear the poison laced in my words. Mrs Rudolph came to me, "sweetie, let's go back in the bus. We have to leave." She took D/N from Grover and dragged me away from the scene. "But----" "Ms. L/N, we'll miss the schedule. Let's go." As if D/N knew he jumped off from Mrs Rudolph's hold and ran. "D/N!!" I didn't bother saying anything to Mrs Rudolph and ran after him. "Y/N!!" She tried calling after. I had lost D/N a few times and I found him. He was barking and growling at something. I went to check and saw Percy swing a sword at a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs... She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. "Percy?" I called. His sword was gone and there was a ballpoint pen in his hand. His hands were still trembling. "W-Was th-that... D-did..." "Percy," I slowly walked up to him and pulled him to a comforting hug. "Calm down. Breathe. I... Also saw that. You're not imagining things alone." We went back outside. D/N leading us. It had started to rain. Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt." I said, "Who?" "Our teacher. Duh!" We blinked. "We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr." Percy said. He asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. We went over to Grover to ask where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, "Who?" But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at Percy, so we thought he was messing with us. "Not funny, man," he told him. "This is serious." "I am concerned as well..." Grover looked at me in surprise. "A-about what?" "About... Mrs Dodds? Percy and I saw something really disturbing." Thunder boomed overhead. Percy then let go of me and went over to Mr. Brunner who hasn't moved from his spot. I immediately followed after. He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson." Percy handed Mr. Brunner his pen. "Sir," he said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" He stared at him blankly. "Who?" "The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." I added. He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, Y/N, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?" "W-What?" "And Y/N, Mrs Rudolph is very worried about you. You just ran away all of a sudden. Your bus is about to leave." I turned to Percy reluctantly. "I'll walk you..." "This... Can't be a real..." I gasp. "Okay if this is real, then we'll never meet again and we were really just imagining things and this is a coincidence." "Agreed..." "Percy, I know what I saw. I know what I remember. We'll meet again, and when we do... I have a feeling it'll be weirder." "I'll look forward to it."

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[jonah-aesthetic]

Patronus  Jonah Marais/ WIP

Jonah Marias X Harlow Darling 

Plot: Having mutual friends doesn't mean they're friends. Although after helping his sister out of an unfortunate situation. Jonah offers her a deal she couldn't give up. 

A/N: Since the only thing on my Tik Tok fyp is Draco Malfoy. I thought of continuing this fic. although the Why Don't We boys are on hiatus at the moment so I dont know if I should. 

The corridors of this ancient school gave me a sense of safety and home. At least I think this is what home felt like. My black robe flowed around me in almost angel like wings, as I carried out my Prefect duties. Night patrol Just past curfew to see if anyone dared to disobey the time. 

Both of my parents came from wealthy pure blood families. Because of it my family has been well known throughout the wizarding world. The name Darling had been carried out for centuries. It didn't exactly mean I despise the name, just that I wasn't proud to have it. For decades it has been an excuse to gain disgusting power. 

The name Darling meant I had to chose every decision I make carefully. I usually keep my image clean for my family, but for some damn reason it’s hard for my younger brother to do so. Hunter needed a leash quick or we might just end up on the daily prophet soon. 

With the way my father had presented our family you would’ve thought we belonged to a Slytherin family. Pure bloods who were overly formal and sleek, who happen to have high jobs and connections with in the ministry of magic. I didn't enjoy portraying myself as one of them but at the end of the day I am one of them. It ran through my blood with each heart beat.  

Night patrol was a fairly easy job, make sure no students we out after curfew and reported anything out of the ordinary to professor Mcgnagall. On a good day it took an hour to cover the school grounds with my best friend Jack who just happened to be the 2nd prefect. Now it took 30 minutes since we decided to split up, cutting patrol in half for us. After the Griffindor prefects complained we were goofing around and not caring enough about prefect duties. 

I didn’t see the big deal, there wasn’t much to patrol. Unless you wanted to yell at some mice who most definitely belonged a couple Hufflepuffs. Gabbie was a high tailed pure blood who should’ve been in Slytherin anyways. Well it’s that or she’s jealous of how close me and Jack are, after all she does fancy him to a great extend. 

Although I think it’d be easier to ask Jack and Daniel, the first prefect from Griffindor to switch places. Slytherin and Hufflepuff swap quidditch players often for practice when one has class or detention I don’t see the harm in it. 

Hearing younger voices grabbed my attention, with quick feet I walked towards the commotion. Coming up to the corner I block myself from view trying to get a better sense on the situation, peeking around I could see 4 younger students cornered a timid girl with wands held out towards her. They smiled with confidence as they watched her tremble.  

“..It’s funny how you think you're one of us mudblood.” 

“You know it’s unheard of for Slytherin to have non-magical parents right?” 

What surprised me most was the ones holding the wands were ravenclaws. I remembered them from the ceremony and I’ve seen them around here and there. This behaviour was an automatic detention, students were forbade to threaten each other with magic. 

Pulling my dark mahogany wand from my boot I uncovered myself. shouting “Expelliarmus!” an almost effortless defence wand cast. Several sparks ignited from the end of my wand, knocking theirs out of hand and clanging to the other side of the hall. startled, squeaky gasps fell from their lips right before the attention was on me. I watched as the potential alpha’s eyes flicked from villain to victim in 0.2 seconds.

The thing with self-absorbed pure bloods was you had to hold higher authority or they’d eat you for breakfast. I know because I was one. I held that high-tailed blood in my expression before. I only had acquaintances then, most students feared me. After awhile I began to dread the feeling.  

“We know the rules, we’re defending ourselves.” One of the Ravenclaw boys spoke up, his eyes holding so much promise I almost believed the kid. The timid Slytherin looked at her shoes not daring to look at me. Telling me that the boys got away with this often. 

I laughed at them humorously, “Detention all of you, I don’t believe your pity act. I witnessed what you did and frankly I’m not gonna let it slide.” I said with smooth tongue as I shrugged my shouldered at them. 

Their faces dropped as they looked at me in shock. “B-but we didn’t-”  

“Drop the act, remember your blood Isn’t gonna take you that far. 50 points from Ravenclaw for each of you. Don’t bother arguing and head back to the common room.” 

The shock was noticeable through their body language. One opened their mouth and then closed it again not daring to say anything. One soon scurried to their wand and took off into the direction of the Ravenclaw's common room. The rest followed in a matter of seconds. I smiled to myself, mission accomplished.

The Slytherin girl finally looked at me, Her eyes full of fear. “I get detention as well?” her voice was so soft and timid I almost didn’t catch it. With a warm smile I shook my head gently. “Oh god no, Honey you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Her expression was soft as a small smile reached her lips, as she breathed in a few sniffles. She had been previously crying, causing her green eyes to dull. 

“What’s your name?” I asked her with a brighter smile. 

“Svea Marais” Her tiny voice more audible then before. 

“I’m Harlow Darling” I responded. 

Her eyes lightened up, matching the colour on her headband. “Like the Darling Royal Family?” She asked with fully curiosity. I kept smiling at her even though I was reminded of something I wasn’t fond of sharing.  

“Yeah” I replied knowing she was getting more comfortable with me. Letting her focus on me rather then the Ravenclaw’s words. 

“You seem different then them.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I ask her playfully, knowing the answer

"Definitely  good." She responded with tiny giggle that made me adore her.

I continued to smile at her as a comfortable silence came over us. We looked at each in an almost admiration. I felt the need to be someone she would look up to, like I couldn't let her down. As if she were a younger sibling. 

“Come on Svea, I’ll walk you to Slytherin dungeon.” I spoke softly after awhile,

“Okay” She had said following behind me. Slowing my steps slightly so she would catch up and walk beside me rather then behind me. The corridors of this massive castle were long and dark, lit only my torches on the sides of the walls. Our detestation wasn’t too far from where we had been. 

“Wanted to thank you Harley, for not choosing their side. It happens often you know, being a mudblood and all.” Looking at Svea I caught a sad smile graze her lips. My heart wrenched at the sight. 

“Svea It’s not right nor was it okay what they said to you. You’re a witch just as much as I am, your blood doesn’t make you anything less.” 

We were coming up to the dungeon quickly, as she stopped a few feet away. “Thank you, I appreciate what you said.” Her green eyes sparkled as her frame became less timid. “Don’t be a stranger, come to me if you need anything.” I started stepping away, putting distance between us. 

“I will.” and with that I turned away, heading back to Ravenclaw tower. Which had been across the castle, but at this moment it didn’t bother me. 

Walking into the common run I come to discover my best friend since we were five, Jack. He sat on the royal blue couch his head rested on the back of it. His attention on the charmed ceiling. Which represented a set of constellations somewhere in the world. The stars would instantly connected after he named them off silently. His Corgi Companion Lucifer was fast asleep in his lap, light snores emitting off him. I couldn't but awe at the small pooch. 

“Hey dork” I spoke playfully. He whispered a startled ‘Vanish’, and the charmed ceiling began to scramble for a fresh collection of constellation. He looked at me in relief, “What took you so damn long?” It was more of a whine more then a question. As if he was bored for the last hour rather them 20 minutes.  

I sat down on the left of him as the right was already taken. I sighed, “Well lets see, I gave detention to a few Ravenclaw boys. As well as took their wands out of the kindness of my heart.” 

“Finally putting your foot down huh?” He teased raising his eyebrows at me. 

“Hey I Can bite back, for your information” 

“I know, I remember that time last year. All I’m saying is you don’t like to, because you're the Ravenclaw princess.” I rolled my eyes at him cause I wouldn’t exactly use that word, but he was right nonetheless. 

“What was so ‘horrible’ that made you go all Royal blood?” 

“They were threating a Slytherin Muggle-born, wands held to her throat. Poor girl was trembling, I would never stand for anything like that.” I said my breath a little shaky as I was raddle about it. 

“Hey It’s okay.” Jack says reassuring me, his eyes go soft as he reaches for my hand and squeezes a pulse. He’s done that ever since I could remember every time he senses my nerves going haywire. which wasn’t too often. It never failed to put me at ease. 

“You did every thing you could.” 

“I know, I just feel like I could do more, I mean they called her a mudblood for god sakes.” He pulses again, his hand in mine was comforting and warm. More platonic than romantic. 

A beige blob in the distance take my attention from gentle brown eyes. It was Denrick my Siamese cat, my companion, and my support. a tiny meow rumbles through this body after I make eye contact with his piercing blue eyes.  

  “What was her name?” Jack’s voice become more tender towards me. 

“Svea Marais.” 

Jack is quiet for a little bit after that, like I had done something wrong. The feeling of Denrick’s soft paws in my lap made me jump a little. He wasn’t fazed by it was her curled up and began to purr. I petted him subconsciously, It’s almost therapeutic.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked cautiously,  Jack looked away suddenly entertained by a bookshelf. 

“No, Um She’s Jonah’s younger sister.” 

Of course she is, how the hell did I not put it together? They had the exact same eyes, the bright green intensity. 

“He’s gunna come and look for you.” 

I swallow Thickly, “I Know” 

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

All I could remember was the red bird that caught fire. Flying over head screeching before soaring through the sky graciously. spreading it’s wings full and bursting into flame. 

It was a dream, because I was sudden heaving in bed as Christina, one of my first friends at Hogwarts. Looks at me with full concern and worry. “Phoenix” My voice raspy. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Catching my breathing, I choked a little. “I saw a phoenix in my dream, I think it was a sign or a symbol. Do you know anyone with a Phoenix Patronus?”  

Patronus guardians take the shape of an animal the castor shares the most resemblance with. In a sense it’s kind like a spirit animal. If the castor had the skills to become an animagus their form and patronus guardian would share the same animal. Which is by far the best part of being a witch. 

“At the moment, I have no idea. Although I do know we definitely should prepare for breakfast.” She holds out a hand for me to take, “What time is it?” 

“6:50″ 

“Guess you were right.” I said placing my hand in hers as she pulls my tired ass out of bed. 

--------

 Christina walks ahead of me into the great hall as I fall behind fixing the blue and bronze tie. The loud chatter from inside made me miss my bed. Although the delicious scent of pancakes made my stomach growl.

“Darling what the hell is taking so long!” It wasn’t a question, but a demand. 

“Calm down I’m fixing my tie, it was lose.” 

Christina looks at me un amused and rolls her eyes at me dramatically. I shrug at her before grabbing her arm and began to kidnap her to the Ravenclaw table where I saw a certain curly headed boy. “Sucks you can’t sit with your boyfriend today.” I say taking a seat in front of Jack. 

[sillypandalover91]

Part 2: After the Auction

Alastor wasnt used to losing.

Not in the sense that he would flip over the board of monopoly if someone had stolen Boardwalk and Park Ave. from right under his nose. Though Husk swore that he would never again count cards when playing with Hazbins no matter how hilarious Alastor's face had been when he handed over the last of his colorful paper money to the feline when he landed on the overpriced blue territories.

No, Al wasn't a sore loser.

But this DrAngler44 was a bad winner if he ever saw one.

"Computer offend you again, babe?"

Alastor had gotten into a habit of playing with Angel's laptop while he went through his hour long nighttime ritual of thoroughly bathing himself, drying and dusting his fur and followed by his face routine and ending by brushing his teeth.

The laptop had been a gag gift from Vaggie, who had found it amusing to see the two old men fumble their way trying to figure out how to use it. After figuring out how to set it up, Angel was the first to master searching for things and using helltube. Alastor was more than happy to call it Angel's laptop if it meant he didnt have to continue embarrassing himself trying to figure the damn thing out.

But then Angel, during their nightly cuddles, mentioned finding a funny sounding video on Helltube that one of his fans uploaded recently. It was a haul of his merchandise, both recent and vintage.

And the vintage items certainly caught Alastor's attention. He scrolled down to the comments, smile widening as he figured out how to torment demons in a way that wouldn't upset Charlie. Angel's delighted face as they watched the doe demon unwrap a limited edition trilogy called "Lady Science".

"Holy shit," cried Angel, accidentally jostling Alastor in his excitement, "Sorry, babe."

Alastor rolled over on to his side but kept a hand buried in Angel's fluff, "It's no problem at all, cher. I take that you are fond of this particular installment of your rather impressive repertoire?"

Nodding, Angel turned down the volume but paid careful attention to the goodies that came in the set. "This one was so much fun to do. The director is an incubus, one of Lady Lilliths personal court now, which is a shame cause I loved working with him so much."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he gave me artistic control and even let me write this one! It did so well that we did two more. You should really listen to the commentary on that one, it's a hoot!"

"Do all of your picture shows have commentary?"

"Some of them, yeah. Well, the fun ones do." Angel glanced down at his thighs where the bruises were covered by his pajama pants, "Mostly the ones Val ain't got his nasty little talons in which, these days, they're few'n between."

After that conversation, Alastor borrowed a few films from Angel's library and, with Husk's reluctant help found the commentary.

"I'd ask why you're watching porn of your boyfriend banging other guys but quite frankly I dont give a fuck," grumbled Husk as he took a seat next to him.

Alastor paused the video and gave the feline a side glance, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"What? It's not like I'm going to beat off with you here and I know your virgin ass isnt going to get off to this either."

Eyes and smile sharpening, Alastor said, "My good fellow, the implication that you are going to, as you crassly put it beat off did not go unnoticed. I'm not going to let you watch my beau in the throes of ecstasy."

Husk snorted, "Why not, all of hell has."

"They're not my friends, Husker. Now, go away. I'd hate to cut our friendship short because you lust after my darling."

At this, Husk spat out his beer, "I- I don't, you know what, I'm not drunk enough to unpack that one. You enjoy," he squinted at the title, "Angel in The Baby Sitter."

"I intend to, old sport~"

One film had turned into two and three, five, until Alastor watched well over half of the videos in Angel's collection.

Who knew Angel was so beautiful when he was genuinely happy and having fun without the use of drugs. Ah, he did! But it was still refreshing to see him this happy when at work.

It was so endearing that he couldnt help but want to see more. Unfortunately there were only so many films left in Angel's library and the newer stuff had Valentino written all over it. So once again enlisting Husk's help, Alastor learned how to use the laptop to find where to buy Angel's earlier work.

"You know you can always ask him to get you more...fucking addict." The last part was muttered under his breath so Alastor ignored it.

After all it wasn't an addiction and it was, well, there were worse things to be addicted to than wanting to hear Angel's witty comments and joyous laughter.

"Or you can watch the actual porn with him and have him comment irl." Both men turned to see Cherrie grinning at them, "What? The princess said I could visit with my bestie so long it was in the parlour. Bet she didnt know there were a couple of old horny motherfuckers in here already."

Slamming the laptop shut, Alastor picked it up and made his way out, "What you do with your mother is your business. Now if you excuse me, I have things I need to win."

Angel found out because there was no way his sales suddenly boosting both on the Studio's website and on auction sites went unnoticed by Val who asked him to his office and nervously informed him that all future productions were going to be overseen by the incubus director Angel was so fond of.

That had been a few months ago and Alastor usually always had that air of self satisfaction that he usually attributed to an amazing release but Al wasn't one to do that and his self satisfaction came from securing items lesser demons wanted to get their repulsive hands on.

Those nights always resulted in heated make out sessions and some light petting on Alastor's part and ended in cuddled sleep.

Tonight, however, when Angel stepped out of the bathroom, he found Alastor glaring at the computer screen face void of a smile before carefully and slowly typing with his two index fingers.

Angel covered his mouth to hide his endeared smile, "Computer offend you again, babe?"

"Not the computer," muttered Alastor, his brow furrowed in concentration as he continued to type out his message in the chat of the auctioning website he frequented, "Some imbecile is flaunting the lot I wished to procure."

"Aw, I'm sorry, doll." Walking up behind his disgruntled beau, Angle draped his arms around Alastor's shoulders and rested his chin between his fluffy ears, giggling as they twitched in response, "You know I can just go through the Studion Vault and steal ya whatever you want. Not like Val actually keeps track of my older work anyway."

Alastor stopped typing and glanced up at Angel, "You mean you can find me this beautiful photograph of yourself? And the corresponding body pillow?" He pointed at the images DrAngler44 uploaded, "I loathe the idea of this creature having these photos of you but I admit that it is wholly because I had just the spot for them in my office at the radio tower."

When Angel didn't respond, Alastor frowned and spun around on his chair to tug Angel onto his lap, "Mon ange?"

"I haven't seen these in years," replied Angel, still staring at pictures. "Hells, this was the very first time I ever let my stupid feet be photographed. I had to beg Val to destroy most the of the copies and cut the photo off at the feet. You know there are only like 3 of these, right?" Ignoring the sudden burst of static, he counted off who had the other two copies, Vox has one cause, of course he had to have my feet in his possession and Lucifer has the other one cause Lilith thought I looked cute."

The static grew worse behind him and, now that he thought about it, maybe he shouldn't have brought Vox up. Angel felt Alastor tightened his hold on him, "You ok, baby?"

"Can you help me write my message," gritted out Alastor through his smiling teeth. Angel typed it out much quicker and sent it with Alastor's approval.

Alastor got up and carried his beau to bed where he tucked Angel in much to the spider's protest, "What about you?"

"Oh, I'll be back soon, cher. Vox has something I want."

[arckook]

around and around - five

pairing: cho seungyoun x reader, kim wooseok x reader

au: idolverse

warnings: none

wordcount: 4.6k

description: you’ve had a one-sided crush on your close friend seungyoun for who knows how long, but things don’t stay so black and white when he introduces you to his new groupmate kim wooseok.

next

Jamiezzz

*sent image*

everyone look at our baby seungyoun at this photoshoot manz looks a fool

Beoneon

I think hyung looks good though?

Hyunggu🤪

Hansol can you read the mood. She’s trashing Seungyoun-hyung because he actually looks good

Beoneon

Oh ya I see it now

Jamiezzz

y/n y/n y/n where are you 

respond 

dont leave me alone here with these boring men

You sigh, reading over the recent messages in your friends’ group chat. Shaking your head slightly, you set your phone down in your lap, watching through the large mirror in front of you as your hairdresser lays the bleach onto your hair.

“I’m surprised you finally agreed to going blonde!” she says, looking excited to do something more interesting with your head. You tend to stick with a darker look, because it’s easier to take care of.

“I just want a change,” you tell her, smiling. 

And it’s true.

You almost feel like one of those girls who has gone through a crazy breakup, and does something drastic to her hair to try and cope emotionally. 

You’re just not going through a breakup, and also not doing it yourself so you don’t piss off your management.

You glance down at your phone again and see a few more texts.

Hyunggu🤪

Boring? BORING?

Jamiezzz

boring boys can you tell me if it’s just me who thinks seungyoun and y/n are acting weird

this is a necessary callout bc its making me feel uncomfy

Beoneon

Do you have to make them feel awkward…

Jamiezzz

so you DO agree

Beoneon

I never said that

Hyunggu🤪

I agree

They keep ignoring us in the gc 

Whichever one of you shows up here first is not a loser

Jamiezzz

boy are you 12? tf kind of tactic is that

Youn

There’s nothing wrong. Sorry I haven’t kept up much with you guys the past couple of weeks!

Hyunggu🤪

“tF kInD oF tAcTiC iS tHaT”

You read over Seungyoun’s message a few times, your eyes drawn to his name, to his contact image. It’s one of the only pictures of him that you’ve taken yourself- from one of the first times you’d even met him. He put on these dumb sunglasses and pushed his hair all the way back and flat against his head. It looked stupid, but at the time you thought it was funny and endearing enough to set at his photo.

There’s nothing wrong.

For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to believe that he actually feels that way.

You still feel sick to your stomach when you think back to his expression that night, when you told him you didn’t want him to take you home. Not that you didn’t want to be taken home… that it was him that was the problem.

He’s probably confused.

But you can’t explain it. You can’t. 

“I think a more silvery blonde will look good on you,” your hairdresser chirps, cutting into your thoughts. “Would you be open to that?”

“Oh, sure,” you answer, knowing your voice sounds a little half-hearted. “Can you cut some layers too? I’m curious what that would look like on me.”

“Totally!” she says, folding up a foil. “It’s going to look so good!”

A few hours later, when your new hair is completely bleached, toned, colored, cut, and blow-dried into a flowy and shiny curtain of silver-blonde, you post a picture of the new look on your instagram, feeling a little better from seeing yourself look so different.

“Y/N-ah!”

You turn to see your group members, who all came from the dorm to get you from the salon so you can all get lunch together. 

Eunmi oohs and ahhs at your hair, running her fingers through it. “It actually looks soft!”

“That’s what happens when you don’t bleach the shit out of it like me,” Jiseo says, pinching a piece of her own hair, currently a faded minty green color, and cringing at it.

“Yeah, you should cut it, Unnie. Your ends look bad.” Soohyun says to the oldest, who sticks out her tongue. 

“Now three of us are basically blondes,” Eunmi pats your head. “I’m the only brunette left.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N won’t last long,” Jiseo jokes as she takes your hand, slotting her fingers in the spaces between yours. “She’s just going through emotional turmoil.”

“I am so not,” you mutter as the four of you start walking through the building towards the parking garage. 

“Y/N-unnie isn’t going through emotional turmoil, she’s just trying to look good for her new man,” Soohyun says, snickering even before Eunmi and Jiseo snap towards you, eyes wide.

“What?” Jiseo exclaims, and all you can do is glare intensely at Soohyun.

“That is also not accurate,” you grit your teeth as you talk.

“It so is,” she sing-songs, swinging her bag in front of her as you all keep walking. “His name is Kim Wooseok. Don’t worry, he’s handsomer than Cho Seungyoun.”

“Don’t say that about Seungyoun,” you tell her with a frown, but she just shrugs.

“It’s not like I called him ugly.”

“Isn’t Kim Wooseok his groupmate?” Eunmi wonders aloud, seemingly over the fact that Soohyun referred to him as your man. 

“Yeah,” you answer simply.

“Is that who you’ve been meeting up with the past few weeks?” Jiseo asks, which nearly makes you jump out of your skin, stopping in your tracks with wide eyes. Your leader glances over at you, a knowing smile on her face. “Y/N, did you think I didn’t notice you sneaking out whenever we had time?”

“I…” you trail off, a little embarrassed. “Um… yeah… I thought that.”

“Ooo-hoo-hoo!” Eunmi grins, and shoves you gently. “So it is like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like that,” she says suggestively, and you smack her arm.

“No, it’s-”

“Y/N-unnie sends him selfies,” Soohyun adds, making you groan and the other girls ooh and ahh even more.

“Yah, L/N Y/N!” Jiseo physically grabs and shakes you, her lips pulled into a wide smile. “I know as a leader I should scold you, but this is great news. You can finally get over Seungyoun.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you whine, throwing your head back in frustration. “We are just friends!”

“Oooookay,” Jiseo hums, as you all exit the building into the parking garage. “Anyway, check out this spot I got. Someone was leaving right as we came in.”

“Lucky,” you comment as the car comes into view, glad of the change of topic.

The four of you get into the car, you and Soohyun automatically going to the backseat as you have done since the very first time you all went somewhere together. 

You glance down at your phone as the girls start discussing where you should go to eat, and are surprised to see another notification from your groupchat.

Jamiezzz

*sent image*

so y/n can post on insta but not respond to her best friends i see how it is😔

Beoneon

Woahhhh Y/N your hair

Jamiezzz

you can compliment but she’s not gonna respond😭😤

You sigh, your front teeth latching onto your bottom lip. 

You feel bad, to put it plainly. 

It’s not like you’re intentionally trying to ignore all of your friends… you just feel uncomfortable talking when you know Seungyoun will read it.

You

thanks vernon :)

sorry weve had a lot of shoots and stuff recently i dont have much time to be on my phone

Hyunggu🤪

She’s alive

Jamiezzz

wait y/n are you sleeping and eating :(

you were sick

You

im ok

Jamiezzz

take care of urself and ur new awesome hair girlie

You

sure thing

“Y/N-unnie,” 

You turn your head to see Soohyun looking over at you, her brows furrowed. “You look stressed.”

“...No,” you smile, shaking your head. You reach over and take her hand, squeezing it. “I’m totally fine.”

“And then they made me wear this,” you find the picture you’d been looking for in your camera roll and turn your phone around, displaying the bizarre outfit you’d had to wear for a recent magazine spread. “Like, what is that? I’m embarrassed that documentation of this even exists.”

“It’s not that bad,” Wooseok hums, taking a bite of his cake. He does it delicately, and with a degree of elegance, like he does pretty much everything.

You huff, turning your phone off and setting it down on the table. “Well, thanks, I guess. I’m still in shock though.”

“By the way, Y/N,” Wooseok starts as you dig your fork into your own dessert, lifting a sizable chunk of the cheesecake to your mouth. “Why do you keep asking for me to meet up with you?”

You frown as soon as the words leave his mouth, setting the fork with your cake back down on the plate. “What?”

He shrugs, but it almost looks tense. Wooseok avoids meeting your eyes as he talks, instead trailing his fork around on the plate in front of him. “We agreed on me not spying on Seungyoun for you anymore. That was the whole reason we met up and ate together, but you’ve still been contacting me.”

You lean back in your chair, regarding him with furrowed brows and teeth latching onto your lower lip. “I don’t… are you saying it’s bothersome to meet up with me?”

Wooseok’s eyes flash up. “I didn’t say that. I’m just-”

“Well it feels like you’re saying that.” you cut him off, grip on your fork tightening as you look down at the table. “You could have just turned me down if you don’t like seeing me.”

“You’re not a bother, Y/N,” Wooseok says, and since you can practically hear the apology in his voice, you glance up to meet his gaze. It’s one of the few times you’ve seen him truly frown. “I shouldn’t have said it that way. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t really know what you’re trying to say,” you mutter, looking away again. “I didn’t just cut you off after the ‘no more Seungyoun updates’ thing because I like you and I want to be friends with you. Sorry if you didn’t feel that way.”

“Y/N-ah,” Wooseok says, clearly trying to get your attention, but you ignore him, because you feel a little hurt. “Y/N-ah. That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay, then what did you mean?” you ask, knowing bitterness is seeping into your tone. 

“I just thought that… you might be trying to make up for asking me that favor in the first place.” at this, you look up, confused. Wooseok fidgets a little, which is uncharacteristic for him. “I could tell that you were feeling uncomfortable about it that day that I came to get you from Jimin-ssi’s place. I thought you might be feeling guilty, so I was going to tell you that you didn’t have to be.”

“...Oh.” you say. 

It’s quiet for a second, because as a somewhat emotional person, you need a moment to recover from what you thought was about to become a total betrayal of your friendship with Wooseok, and you think he might feel a little awkward.

After you’ve had a minute to contemplate what he just told you, you sit up and take that bite of cheesecake you’d been preparing before, looking at Wooseok with all (probably not all, realistically… but most) of the distress wiped from your face. “You’re kind of right. I did feel guilty about it due to certain circumstances, but that’s not why I keep in touch with you. I just like you. And it’s fun having a friend that isn’t friends with the rest of my friends.”

One corner of Wooseok’s lips turns up, in that almost smirky way that he often does. Subconsciously, you think. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“...Can you apologize one more time though? Because that kind of upset me for a second.”

At this, he chuckles quietly. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

About twenty minutes later, after Wooseok has documented the outing with a picture of you and the food (he says he likes doing that because he can’t post pictures of most of his idol friends on social media) you leave the dessert cafe and head out onto the streets of Seoul together. You’re in a quieter area with a lot of parks, but since it’s nighttime, there’s not many people around aside from the occasional group of teenagers or drunk couple.

Eunmi is currently covering for you by having told your manager that the two of you went out for dinner together even though she’s actually just at her brother’s house, so you’ll have to meet up with her soon and go home. But for now, you’re enjoying walking around in the cold air with Wooseok.

He’s been quiet for a few minutes, though, and you’re considering questioning it when he finally speaks up.

“I know you said that day that you didn’t want to talk about it,” Wooseok starts, looking straight ahead as you two walk through a park. “But I can’t lie that I’m not curious. What made you not want to hear about Seungyoun anymore?”

You glance over at Wooseok, biting hard on your lower lip. You’re not sure if you really want to say.

He looks to the side to meet your gaze, and holds it. “He’s seemed uncomfortable too, the past couple of weeks. He was in his room when I got back after taking you home that night, and Seungwoo-hyung said he went straight there when he came back to the dorm. Did something happen between you two?”

You tug on your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your gloves, and look away from Wooseok, coming to a stop. “Not really. I mean, a little bit, but it wasn’t like…” 

You sigh, feeling without being able to see the judgemental look Wooseok is definitely giving you right now. “Basically, Seungyoun-oppa brought a girl with him to this get-together thing. I didn’t even know he was coming so it was kinda a shock, but she seemed nice and Jimin-unnie even said they were friends so I went with it. But this girl got me alone with her at one point and asked…” you sigh again, clasping your hands together. “She wanted me to pretty much do what you were doing for me. See what Seungyoun was saying about her, get him to like her and make her look good to him. I guess that… it just made me regret having asked that of you. Maybe it’s also because I was kind of drunk, but I almost threw up, too.”

“...Oh. I see.” Wooseok says plainly. You glance up to see his expression, expecting the judgemental look, but he just looks… concerned? “You never asked me to make you look good to Seungyoun, though. You just asked me to tell you what he says about you. Those are different.”

You shrug. “I guess. It felt the same, though. That’s why I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to anymore right away. And I really wanted to leave. There was no way I was going to be able to hang out with this girl after she told me that she’s in love with him.”

“In love with him?” Wooseok scoffs. “What’s her name? That seems dramatic to me.”

You crack a smile. “Her name was Sahee.”

Wooseok gives an unimpressed look. “Well he’s never even mentioned her, so I doubt that she’s that important to him.”

You shrug again.

After a moment, Wooseok continues. “So nothing happened at all between you and Seungyoun?”

You rub your arm, sending a grim smile his way. “Geez, you really want to know, don’t you?”

He tucks his hands in his pockets. “It’s just that I can tell something is weird between you two, and I don’t even see you at the same time.”

“Well, it wasn’t much,” you say, accepting your fate and just deciding to tell him. “Sahee must have told him I was feeling sick, so he came to check on me, and wanted to take me home. I told him I’d take a taxi… that was after I texted you. He was insisting at least on taking me downstairs but I didn’t really want to see him in that moment, plus it’s not like I was actually planning on a taxi, so…” you shake your head, sighing once again. “I don’t know. I guess I kind of hurt his feelings in the process.”

“If you were rude to him you should think about apologizing,” Wooseok says bluntly.

Wow. Absolutely no mercy.

“Yeah, I mean… I figured…” you mumble, crossing your arms. “I don’t really know if it was rude though. It was more like… uncalled for.”

“That means rude in most people’s vocabulary,” Wooseok says with a sigh, then starts walking again, which means you have to as well to keep up. “Anyway, he keeps being mopey so even if you don’t apologize, text him or something.”

“Can’t you tell him to text me first?” you mutter, not intending for Wooseok to hear, but you guess that he does by the glare you see him shoot you from your peripherals.

“No.”

You groan. “Okay, maybe tomorrow. No promises though.”

“You’re such a kid,” Wooseok says, but when you look over, he’s smiling. “Want a ride home?”

“You don’t have to,” you say, but he shakes his head. 

“Just accept. I’m avoiding going back to the dorm for as long as possible because Eunsang and Dohyon decided they wanted to host a ‘video game night’, and I don’t want my ears to bleed from the inevitable noise.”

You laugh loudly, already being able to imagine how much that would get on a lowkey person like Wooseok’s nerves. “Alright then. I’ll accept the ride home.”

You have a preliminary recording session the next day for your group’s next album, which is set to come out in March. Jiseo wanted you all to come in just to check out the current tracklist the company has agreed on and maybe start recording some vocals to see if it feels right.

You’ve been at it since the morning, and now that it’s lunchtime, you’re sitting in the room connected to the studio with the girls, who are all on their phones like you. You finished eating a while ago, and now you’re just staring at the messages you have with Seungyoun. You’ve never deleted his tab on your phone, so if you scroll up far enough, you’d be able to read the first ever text you sent him. Which was, if you remember correctly: “Hi Seungyoun-sunbaenim! It was nice to meet you :)”. That was the day after you were first introduced.

You sigh, setting your phone down and dropping your forehead to the table.

“What’s up with her?” Jiseo says with her mouth full. 

“Maybe you were right about emotional turmoil,” Eunmi muses. 

You lift your head up. “Do you have to gossip about me when I’m right here?”

“Duh.” Soohyun says, so you reach over and smack her arm (gently, you may add), which she whines dramatically at. 

“What? Did something happen with Kim Wooseok yesterday night?” Eunmi asks, and you groan.

“No, unnie. Can you stop trying to act like he’s my boyfriend?”

“No, I cannot,” she responds, sticking out her tongue.

“Leave her to her emotional issues,” Jiseo says, once again through her chewing. “Eunmi-yah, Soohyun-ah, let’s go back in since you’re done eating. Y/N-ah, just come when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, unnie,” you tell her honestly as she leads the other girls out of the room, Soohyun scrunching up her nose at you before she closes the door.

You grab your phone again and look at the screen.

It’s been a while since you last texted Seungyoun. Not since November. It hits you that it’s been months since you had a real conversation with him, and you feel bad all over again.

Hey :) I just wanted to say sorry if I was acting weird at Jimin-unnie’s house that one time. I felt really sick and I think the alcohol was getting to me.

You type out the message, but your thumb hovers hesitantly over the send button. You end up pressing and holding on delete until the whole thing is gone.

Oppa, sorry for being rude that night. I wasn’t feeling well. 

You read that one over a few times, and delete it too. 

Seungyoun-oppa, I can’t remember well, but I think I was kind of rude to you that day at Jimin-unnie’s house. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it

You bite your lip, and then in a sudden moment of “who gives a fuck”, just hit send.

And then immediately groan at what you’ve done. 

“Dumbass,” you mutter to yourself. “You remember everything.”

With a shake of your head, you get up and start gathering the takeout your group members had left on the table, probably thinking they’d just clean it up after. You throw everything that’s empty away, and then close up the containers of what isn’t done, stacking it in the middle of the table.

And then your phone starts ringing.

You nearly knock over the stack of styrofoam boxes it surprises you so much. You hurriedly walk back to where you were sitting, and pick up your phone, going cold when you see who’s calling.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your screen enveloped by that dumb picture of Seungyoun in the glasses. At least he’s just calling and it’s not Facetime.

You hit answer, unable to actually miss his call on purpose, and bring the phone up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N-ah?” Seungyoun’s voice sounds out immediately, and the tension in your body skyrockets as you sit back down in your chair. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, I have a few minutes,” you answer, glancing through the window in the door to the recording studio, where you can barely see Jiseo and Soohyun with headphones on, Eunmi most likely recording some background vocals.

“Oh, good,” he breathes. “You… you got home okay that night?”

“Yeah, um, there were tons of taxis around,” you nod even though he can’t see you.

“Good,” Seungyoun repeats. “Were you really sick? Or did it pass the next day?”

“I think it was just the alcohol,” you try to reassure him. “I hadn’t drank for at least a month before that.”

“You don’t always drink like that, right?” he asks, then sighs, almost sounding a little strained. “It kind of worries me.”

“Why would you worry about that kind of stuff?” you ask, frowning. “You know I don’t get drunk easily.”

“Yeah, but look at what happened,” Seungyoun retorts. “You looked like you were about to pass out but you didn’t even want me to take you home. Someone in their right mind doesn’t act like that if they’re not totally wasted.”

You nearly let the words slip out: “There was more to it than that”.

But you snap your mouth shut before they do.

“I just feel like…” Seungyoun sighs again, sharper this time. “You never let me be worried about you. You brush it off every single time. It’s frustrating, Y/N.”

You’re at a loss for words.

Just... what?

“That’s not-” you start, then let out your own sharp sigh. “I don’t see how that’s a bad thing, though. You already have so many things going on, and I don’t want to be a burden, so-”

“When did I ever say that you’re a burden?” Seungyoun exclaims, interrupting. “You just assumed that! It’s like you want to be friends, but you don’t want me to actually care about you or be there for you!”

“That is not true,” you snap, your grip on your phone tightening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Seungyoun.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” he responds, note of frustration evident in his voice. “You haven’t been the same the past few months. You just haven’t.”

“Whatever,” you say, knowing it’s bratty. “You think you know everything but you can’t even see how oblivious you are.”

You know you’re edging on dangerous territory here, but the way he’s talking to you is making a frustration at him swell up that you’ve never felt before.

“Oblivious?” Seungyoun scoffs, a sharp laugh following. “Come on, Y/N.”

“What, you think it’s funny?” you question, hearing the hostility in your voice. “Did you stop to wonder what your friend Sahee was saying to me on the balcony? Did you even notice we were out there together before she went to tell you I was sick?”

“What are you even talking about?” he asks. “This isn’t the point right now-”

“It’s exactly the point, you don’t think you’re oblivious, but you were friends with her for years and never noticed that she’s in love with you!” you snap, your voice rising in volume over the sentence. 

Seungyoun is silent after that, and the sense of regret starts to seep in instantly as you realize what you’ve done.

“...What did you say?” he asks, his voice quiet this time. “Sahee told you that she’s in love with me?”

You don’t answer, but he must take it as a yes.

Seungyoun is quiet still, but you can picture him, wherever he is, throwing his head back, pushing his hair through his fingers in agitation.

“Fuck,” he finally mumbles.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice small as your throat starts to close up. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No fucking kidding, Y/N,” Seungyoun says sharply. You can hear his grit teeth through the closed sound of his words.

You breathe in a heavy breath, trying not to start crying even though you can feel the tears welling up. “I’m sorry. Oppa, just pretend I didn’t say that-”

“L/N F/N,” he says, and you stop immediately. “Just don’t.”

You sniffle, holding the phone away from you so he can’t hear you as the tears start rolling down your cheeks. 

“Fuck,” you hear Seungyoun repeat. “Fuck, I can’t believe this… all that time and she never told me?”

You hold back a sob, almost choking on it.

It almost sounds like he’s talking about you.

This is why he can never find out.

This is why you’ll never be able to tell him.

You let out just the first broken part of the kind of shuddering breath you take when you’re crying, and Seungyoun’s mumbling stops.

“Shit, Y/N-ah? Are you crying?”

You can’t find the voice to answer him, just trying hard not to openly cry.

“Y/N-ah,” he repeats. You hear Wooseok’s voice in your head from yesterday. Y/N-ah. That’s not what I meant.

“Y/N-ah, please don’t cry. Fuck, fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” you manage to get out, your voice tight and thin. 

“No, it’s okay,” Seungyoun says quickly. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I’m just shocked, listen, it’s okay, okay? Y/N-ah, don’t cry. I swear I’m not mad.”

“I’ll hang up now,” you say, taking another shuddering breath. “Please don’t tell Sahee I told you.”

“Don’t hang up,” Seungyoun scrambles to tell you. “L/N F/N, please don’t hang up right now-”

You pull the phone away from your face and tap the red button, and set it facedown on the table. It starts ringing again right away.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Jiseo’s voice sounds out from the doorway to the recording studio. You look up, and she gasps. “Yah, Y/N! Why are you crying?”

“Unnie,” you whimper, wiping at your eyes. “My heart really hurts right now.”

“Hey!” Jiseo shouts into the other room. “Everyone get in here!”

She walks over to your, pulling another chair up and quickly wrapping her arms around you, the ringing of your phone becoming background noise. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

It doesn’t feel okay to you.

You are still in love with Cho Seungyoun.

And he will never know.

[gingerwritess]

I DONT THINK I HAVE EVER SHIPPED ANYTHING MORE THAN ELLIOT/MORGAN OTHER THAN STUCKY. PLEASE IM BEGGING IM ON MY KNEES SCREAMING FOR A PART 2

here honey here have a part two that’s like a prequel but not but it is mwah

i should try following a timeline huh

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The worst day of Elliot’s life, and he’s barely five years old.

He was blue, Morgan was wearing a sunny yellow dress that didn’t quite reach her knees and billowed around her when she ran.

The blue wasn’t supposed to show up, but he slipped and fell off the ladder to Morgan’s treehouse, scraping up his left knee pretty badly. Morgan ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, yelling for her parents to come help.

That was the first time he thought yellow could be a nice color—yellow means sun, sun is hot, hot isn’t good. But it’s nice and happy on Morgan, it dulls the pain in his knee for a little bit.

She comes dashing back to him dragging her dad behind her. “He’s hurt, you gotta fix him!”

“I’ll need some new batteries for this one,” Mr. Stark smiles, scooping him into his arms and brushing away a stray tear with his thumb, carrying him back to the house. “Miss Morgan, will you run ahead and fetch us an ice pack and a band aid?”

She bolts off ahead of the other two, Elliot still sniffling into Tony’s shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Plopping Elliot on the countertop, Mr. Stark cleans up the scrape with a wet cloth and flicks water at his teary little face, looking for a smile again.

“Y’know, I broke an actual bone one time,” Morgan offers, patting his leg with a comforting little hand. “My baby toe, it snapped off!”

“You stubbed it, sweetheart,” her dad corrects with a small smile, “that doesn’t count as broken.”

But it brings a little laugh to Elliot’s eyes, and he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “So y’only have nine toes?”

“Yup.” She looks down at her bare feet and counts for a moment. “Wait...no, this time there’s eleven.”

The little boy laughs, much to Tony’s relief. He’d rather not have to answer to an overprotective, angry god for hurting his son on his watch—while the two of them have of course reached a mutual understanding, being thrown out another window isn’t exactly something he looks forward to.

“All clean,” he hums, ruffling a hand through Elliot’s curls. “Let’s get some ice on this and we’ll seal the deal with a bandaid, alright?

It’s a fun ice pack, one of those ones shaped like a little cartoon animal—this one’s a turtle, smiling up at him as Tony sets the ice pack on Elliot’s bruised knee.

A few seconds later, Morgan is staring and Tony is desperately trying not to.

Elliot wipes his nose again with a sniffle and catches a glance of his hand as he moves, his heart dropping.

He’s, um...blue.

His skin is all patchy, spots of blue spreading over his arms and legs and he’s sure it’s going to his face, too.

A hollow feeling settles in the pit of his stomach and he taps Tony on the shoulder.

“Mr. Stark?” He whispers, hoping Morgan doesn’t overhear. “Is it—is it on my face?”

Tony gives him a reassuring smile and nods. “It looks awesome,” he tries to assure him, but Elliot drops his head to his hands.

“I wanna go home, Mr. Stark,” he mumbles. “Please, I wanna go home.”

He peeks out from behind blue fingers to find Morgan still staring, mouth open in a surprised little gape, and his eyes start swimming with tears when she won’t look away.

“Please don’t look at me,” he whispers, and Tony quickly wraps him in a hug.

“Don’t worry, Elliot,” Tony chuckles nervously, tiptoeing around the sensitive subject at hand. “We, uh, we love when our friends can do cool things, don’t we, Morgan?”

No answer, and the little bit of hope left in Elliot’s blue heart is gone in a blink.

“Morgan?”

“Y-you’re blue.”

The pointed look Tony tries to shoot at his daughter falls short as Morgan takes a step closer, little index finger extended and—

Poke.

“Morgan,” Tony hisses, holding Elliot tighter when he flinches at her touch. “Don’t do that.”

“Ooo, you’re cold, too!” Morgan’s jaw has dropped, and she pokes him again. “Are you really a snowman?”

“Mr. Stark,” Elliot asks thickly, “please, c-can my dad come pick me up now?”

“Of course, little guy. Friday, get his parents on the phone?”

It’s barely minutes until you’re knocking on their door, piecing together what’s going on when Tony opens the door with your almost completely blue kid hoisted onto one hip, Morgan still stunned and staring behind him.

“We hit a little hiccup,” Tony explains, and Elliot rushes over to you, burying his face in your knees. “He fell off the ladder to the treehouse, bumped a knee, I thought an ice pack might help...my bad.”

“That’s not your fault,” you assure him, running a comforting hand through Elliot’s hair. “Thank you for having him over, Tony, I’m sorry, we should’ve...y’know, warned you.”

“No, don’t worry about it. He’s you and Loki’s kid, I expected a hell of a lot worse.” He winks and squats down, rubbing a hand over Elliot’s back. “When that knee gets better, kid, you’ll have to come back over, I—”

“HEY!!”

Morgan’s broken out of her daze, gaze landing on you and raising an arm to point at you with wide eyes.

“Did you know he turns blue??”

“I did, actually,” you chuckle, but Elliot just hugs your legs tighter. “Pretty cool, right?”

Morgan gapes, that finger frozen in midair. “Do you turn blue, too?”

“Nope.” You smile over at her, waving away Tony’s wince. “He gets it from his dad!”

“Daddy,” she gasps, “lookit, his eyes’re red now, too—”

“That’s enough, Morgan.”

Tony scoops her into his arms. “We’ll see you next time, Elliot, alright?”

Judging from the tears starting to soak through your pants, he won’t be answering any time soon.

Mouthing I’m so sorry one more time to you, Tony gives you a last apologetic smile and closes the door, just as Morgan starts blabbering again.

“That was freaky, dad, he got real cold and blue, and his eyes—”

“C’mon, kiddo.” You bend down to lift Elliot into your arms with a wheeze—“you’re getting pretty big for this, hm? Growing up so fast. Lets get you home.”

“Mommy?”

Buckling him into his car seat, you pause and press a kiss to his little blue forehead. “What’s up, sweetie?”

“Are you scared of me?”

Your jaw drops with a shocked little huff and you buckle the last strap, patting his knee and looking him straight in the deep, blood-red eye.

“I absolutely am not.”

“But I’m a monster,” he whispers, eyes glistening. “Like dad, right?”

“Wrong,” you nearly choke, a lump forming in your throat. “No, Elliot, no, no, no, you and dad aren’t monsters, where’d you get that idea?”

“But we’re blue, a-and our eyes turn red—”

“Listen to me, Elliot.” Brushing some curls off his forehead, your voice turns stern. “Just because you’re a different...different colour than other people, doesn’t make you any less than them, do you hear me?”

The little boy wipes his nose and nods.

“And it would never make you a monster,” you assure him. “You are beautiful, Elliot. Inside and out. And you know what?”

“What?”

You tap a finger against his blue chest with a small smile.

“This heart right here? It’s yours and no one else’s. And I don’t care what body is carrying it, I’m going to love you because of the pure, beautiful heart you have inside.”

The corner of Elliot’s mouth twitches, almost a tiny smile.

“Does that make sense?” You laugh quietly, giving his seatbelt a tug. “It means that I love you, Elliot, no matter what colour you are or how cold you might get. I’m still gonna hug you.”

He giggles then, teary and hesitant, but right away opens his arms to wrap around your neck when you hug him tight.

“Makes sense,” he whispers, sniffling into your shoulder amidst giggles. “I love you, mommy.”

“I love you, too, kiddo.”

Hugging is difficult when you’re working around a car seat, but you stay there in Elliot’s arms until he sniffs and loosens his grip.

“Monster,” you scoff with a laugh, rubbing your eyes and giving Elliot one last kiss on the cheek. “Who made you think that, sweetie? I’d like to have a word with them.”

You wink and smack your fist into the palm of your other hand, bringing another adorable little laugh from your son.

“Don’t beat him up,” he giggles, shaking his hair out of his face—he needs a haircut, these curls are getting out of control. “I heard it from daddy, so you can’t beat him up!”

“Wha—excuse me??”

“Dad thinks it sometimes,” Elliot explains. “I hear it in his head! He’s really loud in his head, y’know? S’weird, he’s quiet outside, but inside he’s super loud—”

“Dad said that?” Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

“He never said it...just in his head. I dunno, I just hear him sometimes when he’s too loud.”

“O-okay.” Taking a shaky breath, you give your kid a half-hearted smile and go get behind the wheel. “Well, um, sometimes...sometimes dad thinks the wrong thing.”

“But dad’s always right,” Elliot grins.

“Not always...” you anxiously chew your lip as you drive, mind racing. Your son having these kinds of thoughts is one thing, but if he’s hearing it from his father?

You thought Loki was getting better with that whole “monster” image of himself.

“I’ll talk to him,” you promise your kid with a sure smile. “But dad’s wrong. You’re not a monster, and neither is he. That’s the bad parts of dad’s brain talking. Don’t listen to those bad parts, you understand?”

Elliot nods, gaze drifting to the trees zipping by. “I don’t think dad’s a monster,” he says simply, more to himself than anything, it seems. “I love him.”

You try, but just can’t stop the lone tear that slips down your cheek. “So do I,” you hoarsely reply. “I love him, too.”

Years.

It’s been years, and that’s still not enough?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

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[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Cori's Tale (Pt.2)

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

We sat there for a few minutes, I exchanged stories with Patton about the surface world. His expression of sadness and anger at the notion of the other children sending us down the mountain as sacrifices was one I wouldn't soon forget. I learned a lot about him, to, he had a cat allergy, he took care of six children before I got here. That last line stopped me in my tracks.

"What. . . Happened to the other kids?" I asked, Patton's face seemed to fall.

"They. . . Left. . . That's all you need to know for now, dont dwell on it ok kiddo?" Patton rested a hand on my shoulder for a few seconds before getting up.

"I think we should head off now, yeah?" He said, holding a hand out. I merely nodded and accepted it. I walked with Patton into a narrow hallway. On one end was a sign, on the other a lever and pressure plates. Patton stepped a pattern on them, his hooves clicking against the stone, before flipping the lever. A door opened and he walked through it. I chose to read the sign before following.

"Only the fearless may enter here, brave ones, foolish ones, both walk not the middle road," I read aloud before crossing. The words bounced in my head for a bit, fading to the background as my attention turned back to Patton.

"This next puzzle you can do on your own,  I've labelled all the levers for you," he said, I watched him cross a few bridges to the end of the room, the second doorway was blocked off by a set of spikes on the floor.

I walked over to the first lever, light blue words were scrawled on the walls next to it, telling me this was the right one. This repeated with about two more levers before I heard a clicking sound and noticed the spikes behind Patton retreating into the ground.

"This next puzzle is dangerous, take my hand," Patton said, holding it out. I took it, not paying attention to much until I realized what we were walking on. Rows, and rows, of sharp, silver, spikes. The spikes seemed to retreat under Patton's hooves, I found this matter interesting.

"Now, as you go through the ruins, you may encounter monsters, and they may try to attack you, I want you to know you should just talk to them and I will come to resolve the conflict," Patton smiled and gestured to a dummy at the center of the room. I walked up to it and noticed the heart that had been established as my SOUL appear in front of me again. I saw something behind the eyes of the dummy, something I couldnt quite place.

"Hi, I'm Cori, she/her and they/them pronouns, what's your name?" I said, not really expecting the dummy to respond. The mysterious aspect of its eyes seemed to evaporate, my SOUL retreated back into my chest, I looked to Patton for guidance, but he merely smiled and clapped in approval.

"Now, follow me kiddo," he said, walking to another room. We'd nearly gotten there when a small frog-like creature appeared in front of me. A barrage of flies aimed straight for my SOUL, I narrowly managed to avoid them by spinning out of the way.

My mind seemed insolent on two options, threaten, or compliment. I was never very accomplished at threats, so instead I decided to compliment the symbol scrawled on its chest. The frog began to blush, it was seconds away from preparing its next attack when Patton stepped out onto the scene. With a glare that could freeze even the toughest child in their tracks, he shooed away the frog creature.

"You did wonderful kiddo," he said, smiling as he lead me to a much longer corridor.

"This test is going to be very difficult, I am going to leave you alone, and you're going to have to walk to the end of the hall, do you think you can do it?" He said. I nodded, I'd been on my own plenty of times before this.

I watched him disappear down the hall and began walking myself, I'd almost reached the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder once again.

"Its alright kiddo, I didnt really leave, but this was a very important test of your independence, I need to make sure you can be alone, I have to handle something," he said. He dropped what looked like one of the old phones the guardians back at the community talked about used to have.

"I will call you periodically to make sure you're alright," Patton walked away from me and I stood there.

He did, in fact, call several times before his phone was stolen by a dog. After about twelve calls I decided it might be best to venture out on my own, after all, I already knew how to talk to and spare the monsters. I packed my art supplies and sketchbook back into my bag and set off.

The ruins were relatively calm, with only the occasional froggit or molsmal to interrupt my walking, though my complimenting and flirtation skills were advanced enough that I could pass them easily. The first real problem presented itself in the form of a ghost, laying on the floor and sulking. It was a sort of faded purple color, and it seemed to be pretending to sleep.

I elected to nudge it slightly with my foot, resulting in a retaliation from the ghost.

"Oh. . . Oh no. . . They noticed. . ." Lavender, as the words appearing above the ghost called it, seemed rather upset.

"I'm sorry- I just needed to get past, I've got somewhere to be," I said.

Tears rained down from the ghosts face, I held my hands up to block them, but they seemed to float back upwards, changing shape the closer they got to my outstretched palms.

"I really didnt mean to frighten you, you seem rather nice," the ghost seemed surprised by this statement.

"I want to show you something," she said. I merely nodded and watched as she cried, her tears floating up and beginning to form what looked like a flower-crown on her head.

"Woah- I wish I could do that," the ghost retreated out of battle.

"I met someone today. . . And they were actually really nice. . . Wow," the ghost disappeared without another word, needless to say it was a uh- different experience, but I didnt mind it. I kept walking on, solving puzzles as I passed them, fighting all manner of strange monsters. I left some money in a web of spiders, each seemed to be wearing their own small hoodie, I decided to write a note complimenting them on it, hoping they would find it sweet. I put the donut they gave me in a ziploc bag of other food items I'd collected, hoping that would keep it from messing up my backpack.

I finally managed to reach what looked like a small house, out of which Patton walked, phone in hand before he noticed me.

"Oh my goodness gracious how long was I gone! Come here kiddo- I'll heal you," he said, trapping me in one of the biggest bear hugs I'd ever experienced. I felt a calm wash over me. Patton let go and guided me into the house.

"The pie isnt cool just yet, but I'll let you know when it is, feel free to explore," said Patton. I, however, had had enough of exploring that day, and decided that I would rather draw at the table.

I began to get tired later in the day, and elected to go to bed. I woke up later in the night with the smell of pie filling my nostrils. I merely set it in another ziploc in my bag before going back to bed.

I wasnt sure how long I was in the ruins before I began to feel homesick, but soon enough I'd plucked up the courage to ask Patton about leaving.

"Stay here kiddo, I need to handle something," I watched as Patton disappeared around the corner before following him. We walked all the way down the stairs before he stopped at an archway, turning to me.

"This is the exit to the ruins. . . I am going to destroy it. . ." He said.

"I have seen five children pass through these doors, and never return, one who didnt even make it through the ruins themselves, I cannot let it happen again," I was frozen, processing the words to slowly to interrupt.

"If you cross, they, Logan, will kill you," Patton said, something about the way he said Logan's name resonated with me. He sounded distraught, as though he were talking about someone personal to him.

"But you cant keep me here forever, it's not right," I said. This seemed to breach the silence.

"You are right. . . You would just be unhappy here. . . Very well. . . Prove yourself to me, and I will let you go," this time, two hearts appeared. My own ever-changing one, and an upside-down white one on Patton's side.

I barely had time to comment before facing a barrage of fire and flames. I narrowly managed to dodge it, holding my hands out as a barrier.

I wanted to talk to him, but I couldnt seem to find the right words.

The fire kept coming, I held my hands out, envisioning it in my head as changing shapes, which it soon obeyed. I watched as the fire molded itself to the images in my head. Soon enough the spitting image of Patton was in front of me, made of fire, before it split off into separate whispers of smoke. I could see the surprised expression on Patton's face as he watched.

Soon enough his attacks became less calculated, almost as if he was actively avoiding hitting me.

Finally it was over, Patton sighed, defeated.

"I am so sorry kiddo. . . You're right. . . You would just be unhappy, my expectations, my loneliness, my fear, I will put them all aside, for you," he said. He opened his arms for a hug, which I embraced in full. As he let go I could see the tears making their way down his face. I watched him leave, turning his head slightly and giving me a small nod.

Then it was just me and the door. As I walked through, I was met with a long corridor. At the end if it, a familiar orange face.

"Well done! You spared the life if one innocent person!" Said the tree.

"What do you want with me." I growled under my breath.

"I am the prince of this worlds future, but do not worry, my plan isnt regicide, this is so much more interesting,"

I stomped my foot into the ground "What. Do you want. From me." I repeated.

"You interest me, human, sparing even those who would kill you without hesitation, but what will you do if you meet a relentless killer? Will you kill out of frustration? Or will you continue to die, because you would rather rely on magic than murder," the tree seemed to disappear abruptly, leaving me alone with the words echoing in my head.

I continued down the path, and was met with an overwhelming sense of cold at the end.

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

Tag list:

@nerosdayinhell

@that-artsy-gay

@official-lucifers-child

@spooky-scary-virgil

@misunderstoodshadowling

@youtuberswithalex

[prettyyoungandbored]

You and I {DouglasBooth!Nikki Sixx} Chapter Four

Pairing: DouglasBooth! Nikki Sixx x Reader

Summary: There was a time when all Y/N and Nikki had were themselves and Nikki’s dreams of creating the next great band. What happens when the dream comes alive?

Taglist: @fandomshit6000 @cosmicsskies @tashy-bear@versaceismehoe @thissongitsaboutyou @prettysureimgayxo @divaanya @tarahell @yoinks-i-dont-feel-so-good 

A/N: This chapter is shorter than normal so I do apologize for that. The next one will be a lot longer. I still hope you guys enjoy!

Previous Chapter                Next Chapter

Following their first performance, Mötley Crüe quickly became a household name on the Sunset Strip. Six months later, they found themselves on the cover of LA Weekly being dubbed as the “toast of the town”. The lines outside the venue they would play at got longer, the places becoming more and more packed, and the fanbase growing faster. 

Y/N couldn’t have been more proud. She knew Nikki and the boys put their heart and soul into the band, dedicating every second they could to writing, rehearsing, and working on their image. Their dedication came to a point in which the boys decided to move in together (with Y/N) in a small apartment on the corner of Clark and Sunset. Y/N loved it. The more she hung out with them, the closer they all became. Tommy was the younger brother Y/N never had, Mick and her bonded by judging people, and Vince trusted her to help him with his outfits - a job given to her after he and Blondie broke up when Blondie caught him fucking another girl in the bathroom. While Y/N wasn’t thrilled with how it went down, all that mattered was that Blondie was gone forever. 

After Y/N’s edits of “Take Me to the Top”, her songwriting became asset to the band. Nikki and her would end up writing songs with her together in their bedroom. Y/N’s support and input meant the world to him and he wouldn’t admit it...until one night after a performance at the Roxy. 

The boys had just finished their set and Nikki jumped off the side of the stage where Y/N was. She was about to take his hand when some groupie pushed her aside and went up to Nikki.

“I liked your set,” she purred, pushing up her chest for him to gaze. 

Y/N opened her mouth to say something when a large gentleman grabbed Y/N by the arm. “Let’s say I get you out of here and give you a better show than these pansies?” 

Nikki’s eyes darkened with rage. He pushed aside the groupie before swiping the man’s hand from Y/N. 

“She’s with me asshole,” Nikki growled. 

The fury in his tone and eyes made Y/N nervous. “Let’s just go,” she pleaded.

“You already got one groupie,” the man stepped closer to Nikki. “Sugar tits, over there is yours. This one’s mi-.” 

He barely finished his sentence when Nikki threw a punch. The man almost fell back when Nikki grabbed onto his vest, going face-to-face with him. “Don’t you fucking call her that!” 

Y/N grabbed Nikki’s arm, her patience beginning to run thin. “Nikki, c’mon. It’s not worth it.” 

“Yea, listen to your bitch,” the man spat. 

Just as Nikki was about to go after him again, Vince stepped in between the two, eyeing Y/N. “Get him out of here, now,” he told her.

Y/N pulled Nikki backstage. She opened the dressing room door to find Mick and Tommy hanging out th

“Can you guys step out of the room for a second?” Y/N asked. 

“Let’s go drummer,” Mick mumbled, motioning to the door. 

The second Tommy closed the door behind him, Y/N faced Nikki. “Enough with the-.” 

“I wasn’t going to let him talk to you like that,” Nikki cut her off. “You’re not a groupie. I don’t care how fucking revealing the shit you wear to our shows are, you’re not one of them.” 

Y/N cocked her head back. She tried to put together a response, but no words seemed to come out. Nikki went on. “None of those girls helped to shape any of our songs. None of those girls are taking care of me or the boys during rehearsals or before the show, none of them are up until god knows when helping me write lyrics. You’re...”

His voice trailed off. He swallowed hard. “You’re...what I’m trying to say-.” 

 “I know.” Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. As much as she wanted to hear him say it, she knew why he struggled to do so (even if they’d been dating for almost two years). “It’s ok.” 

Nikki bit his bottom lip. “You’re more than that. You’re my girl.” 

Y/N pecked his lips. “But seriously, enough with the fights, alright?” 

He rolled his eyes as she put an arm around his waist. “Also, groupies are a great thing for rock bands. They add ambiance to the whole rock show and make you look good.”

Nikki scoffed. “Yeah I know that, Vince.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out. “Also I have to say, I mean that girl from tonight was a way hotter than me so why that guy didn’t just take her instead is beyond me.” 

“Will you quit saying shit like that? Fucking drives me up a wall.” 

“I’m just saying-.” 

Nikki pulled her face to his, smashing his lips against her. He then pulled back and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her over his shoulder. 

“Nikki, what the hell!?” Y/N laughed. 

“Just wait til’ we’re home, princess.” 

Two weeks later, after their set at the Starwood, Y/N went home while the Nikki and the boys stayed out. She would’ve joined them if she didn’t have work the next morning, but she changed her work schedule so that her evenings could spent with Nikki and the others.  

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for, but the next thing she knew, she felt someone shaking her body. She let out a scream, startled by the dark figure in her bedroom. 

The figure leaned over and turned on the lamp, revealing it was Nikki. Y/N exhaled, her heart still racing.

“The hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, a hint of sleepiness still lingering in her voice.

“We’re getting a record deal.” 

She shot up, her mouth hung open. “You’re kidding.” 

“This guy Tom from Elektra Records came by the Rainbow and offered us a fucking record deal. We’re going in Monday to sign the contracts.”

Her heart leaped out of her chest, tears of joy and pride streaming down her cheeks. “Nikki...”

He rest her forehead against hers. “Y/N it’s finally happening. We’re going somewhere. Mötley Crüe, you and I - we’re getting out of this place.” 

She wrapped her arms around him tightly as he pulled her to him. His lips met hers, tasting like cheap beer and cigarettes. He pushed her back down on to the bed when their door burst open. Vince and Tommy entered screaming and cheering. They started jumping on the bed as Y/N moved over, giving them room.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Y/N yelled.  

That Monday, Mötley Crüe was signed to a five album deal. 

[benexolence]

Tense (M) pt.1

CEO!Park Jimin x Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Rating = M, F (it was hard not to put fluff in, i’m too soft for chimmy)

SUMMARY: You’ve been subtly teasing your stressed-out boyfriend over the past couple of weeks, and you push him a bit too far at a company dinner, making him want to show you what it’s like to be frustrated.

Warnings: dom!jimin, daddy kink, dirty talk, exhibitionism, degradation, slight-ish possessiveness (bruh IDK), fingering

A/N: There are two parts to this fic! This was originally gonna be a oneshot but it would’ve been MONSTER to post LMFAO but I’ll post pt.2 within the next 2 weeks! Stay tuned :-) ****PART 2 IS OFFICIALLY POSTED! LINK TO PART 2 IS IN MY MASTERLIST!

Jimin had been very tense for the past couple of weeks. Being the CEO of BigHit, there was already a lot riding on him. Recently, his company bought out another company, BT21 and although this transaction would be beneficial for the future of his company, it didn’t necessarily mean that his transition would be smooth. If anything, it was putting a lot of weight on his shoulders, trying to figure out which workers to lay off or what sectors to change entirely, through the means of endless meetings, soon became excruciating. There were so many things to be done, and there wasn’t enough time in the day to complete everything. The tight pressure started to build in his shoulders and his mind as the lack of sleep from early mornings and late nights as the weeks went on. Jimin swore that he began to feel his brain melting.

It didn’t help that he start to see his love less and less. The quality free-time he’d usually spend with you decreased dramatically, turning the salacious sleepovers nearly every weekend into occasional Facetime pillow-talks that would end quickly since he’d almost immediately shut his exhausted eyes once his head hit the soft pillow. He just missed you, so much. Not being able to see you was like trying to substitute ranch for chocolate in a cake and it just didn’t work with him.

At night. Jimin is a needy boy, so destitute that the dreamland that he briefly arrived in every night was scent and taste of the juices that would fall between your thighs as you scream for him to give you more. His mind was clouded with clips of your writhing body, all nice and sweet, just for him. Jimin swore that he’d wake up to your whimpers echoing throughout his bedroom, only to find that you’re not there but his hard-on was painfully present. You couldn’t leave his mind. His lust was overflowing, and he even tried jerking off with his non-dominant hand, nothing worked.

For you, on the other hand, things were going pretty decently. You didn’t have much to complain about; you just got a raise at work, all your old friends were back in town, things were going pretty well for you. So, it was a bit amusing for you to hear all of this happening. You missed him greatly, and you longed to see him, but you were thankfully distracted by the better things happening in your life. You were worried about your boyfriend, but it’s uncommon to hear him whine for you and you felt a bit a pride when he’d tell you about how much he and his dick missed you. So to add to your amusement, you’d send some inappropriate pictures along with detailed texts of how much you desired him. When you went out with your friends, you would take a picture of yourself in a scandalous dress to rile him up a bit for the night, only to take that dress off after the image was sent, then change into something that you were a bit more comfortable in, (without him knowing of course). When Jimin was provoked in such a way, it always ended in ground-breaking sex. You still loved the fact that Jimin was a compassionate lover, it’s just that you didn’t see that dominant side of him very often and sometimes, you needed him to be a little bit rough.

Tonight was the first night that you would see Jimin after such a long time. There was a company dinner to celebrate the end of this chaos, and it was a perfect time to see you. Jimin liked to think of your presence as a gift to himself, for working himself to the bone. Both of you and him were giggling like children all day because it’s been so long and the two of you would finally fill the gnawing hole that’s been heavy on the two hearts. You wanted this night to be perfect, so you spent hours just picking and choosing the color scheme for your outfit deciding to go with a simple and sophisticated approach. Although you wanted Jimin to be the happiest tonight, you felt a throbbing need for something rough as the little devil on your shoulders convinced you to egg him on a bit. You decided to keep the egging to a slight minimum, and you went for the little black dress with a simple set of jewelry and light makeup that gave you a natural look. The dress did wonders to accentuate your curves, and you had an inkling that Jimin might go mad when he sees your outfit. It was perfect for setting off his mood, in the direction you prefer.

Jimin felt that it was crucial that he’d pick you up tonight. It was vital for him to have at least five minutes of alone time with you in the car before you two spent the next few hours with a garden of people he didn’t really care for; he’d probably only be focusing on you anyway. He was also hoping to convince you to let him sleep over for the night, already packing his things for the night because the answer will always be some form of “yes.” Jimin felt that spending these hours with you would melt away all the weight that’s been straining his body. He didn’t care if he was between your thighs or laying by your side, he just wanted to spend some time with you.

Jimin threw his overnight-bag in the backseat of his car and texted you a quick “on my way sweetheart” before rushing himself over to your apartment, almost running a few red-lights because he couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t stop smiling; he was excited to see his girl after so many weeks.

It was the same way with you after you got his text, you practically had a face tattoo of a smile. You rushed to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure that you looked perfect. As you fixed yourself up in the few minutes you had left, memories of the times where Jimin left you breathless made you excited. Your cheeks became flushed with such crude thoughts led you to think of possible ideas to ensure your demise tonight.

You were pulled back to reality as you heard a knocking at your door. The excitement came back in seconds as you ran to the door and swung it open, to find Jimin looking at you with nothing but pure love. You were in awe by his choices for his appearance tonight. Jimin wore an all-black suit, without a tie, giving a bit of a casual feel. He wore a gold necklace, and he parted his hair so a bit of the center of his forehead being shown.

Both of you took a few seconds to accept the fact that both of you are together again before he quickly grabbed your arm so you’d fall into his arms. Jimin hugged you tightly, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, you would never come back. He buried his face into your neck, and you could feel him smiling.

“I’ve missed you so much” Jimin whispered softly into your neck, leading you to giggle as his breath tickled your skin.

“But I talked to you yesterday” You chuckled softly, thinking about the Facetime call that only lasted three minutes before Jimin started snoring.

“I fell asleep! How in the world does that count?” Jimin started to swing around, with you in his arms, “Did you not miss me? Not only a little bit?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter because you’re always asleep when I try to talk to you anyway.” You say with a sassy tone before escaping his grasp to turn around and walk further into your apartment, looking to grab your purse.

“Y/N, baby please” Jimin whined as he followed behind you. You could already tell that there was a pout on his face by the tone of his voice. You found your purse, and you started to look through the bag, making sure that you had everything you needed. Before you realize it, Jimin was standing right in front of you, slightly stomping his feet. “Baby, I’m sorry for falling asleep all the time, but that doesn’t mean you get to ignore me.”

Looking at his upset face, you realize that you definitely can’t be bratty right now. He’s too damn cute, and you couldn’t resist it, not after such a long time. You smile at him, “You’re lucky that I have the biggest soft spot for you. I’ll forgive you this time.” But your last few words are meaningless because you’ll always forgive him for anything, leading you to let out a chuckle.

Your laugh was cut short when Jimin suddenly cups the apples of your cheeks, looking at you with appreciation. “Seriously though, I am sorry. You don’t understand how hard it’s been for me, not being able to talk to you. I’ve missed you more than anything.”

Jimin never failed to make you feel loved. There was never a time where you felt unappreciated and unwanted by him because he always did everything in his power to make sure that those thoughts would never cross your mind. Although there has been a lack of presence in the past few weeks, there were no worries that arrived in your mind because he still tried to talk to you, even if his sleepiness won most of the time.

“It’s okay, Jimin. I know that you’ve been busy, so it’s alright. I’ve missed you too.” You spoke softly.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Jimin whispered before pulling you forward to kiss your forehead. He let go of your cheeks, only to slide his hands into yours. He pulled you towards the door, “Now, l wanna get there early so I can sit in the car and shit on the idiots that we’re gonna be near tonight.”

You laughed as the both of you left your apartment and set route to the restaurant.

The car ride was filled with nothing but laughter and joy as you both exchange memories that occurred over the past few weeks. Both you and Jimin felt absolute elation; nothing was better than being in the company of someone you love. Soon, both of you were parked outside of the restaurant, shit-talking about the coworkers that made his life an absolute nightmare over the past couple of weeks. Irritation started to seep into Jimin’s bones as the anger over their actions came to mind. You notice Jimin’s change of tone, and you felt the need to calm the fire that was growing in his mind. You moved your hand to give a calming rub on his bicep, “You don’t have to worry about it now. The past is the past, and now you can focus on the success that’s gonna be rolling your way.”

Jimin looked to your smiling face, but his eyes slowly followed the length of your dress, his pupils dilating in mixed emotions over how noticeable your legs were in the dress. Suddenly, his mind went through to all the frustration he felt with you during your absence; seeing you in such revealing attire, hearing about how much you need him, all the subtle teasing that you’ve been pulling over the past few weeks that would always leave him with an erection. All emotions came racing back to his mind and his cock, making him feel nothing but tense again. The current state of your naked legs started to tease him a bit, Why is she wearing that dress right now? To fucking spite me? God, in the very moment, he just wanted to fucking explode.

His ring-covered hand went straight for your thigh, squeezing the soft skin in a vice-grip. Your eyes went straight to his hand as you gasped at the cold feeling of his rings. You look up to Jimin’s face, only to find the irises of his eyes slowly disappearing to black, mixed with lust and vexation.

His voice comes out low when he initially speaks, “Y/N, that dress--” Jimin takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves from thinking illogically. It’s just a dress. There’s nothing to it. She isn’t trying to pull anything with me. “It looks stunning on you” Jimin plants a smile on his face as he squeezes his grip on your thigh a bit harder, leaving an imprint of his rings. Momentarily, he decided that your teasing would be a topic of discussion for later that evening, it would be such bad timing to discuss something like that right now.

Although you were taken back by the quick change in emotions that you just witnessed, it still didn’t stop your stomach from doing flips from his compliment, knowing that it’s genuine. But what lingered in your mind was the reason for the sudden emotional changes, reasons that you already knew. You could see the tension in his jaw as a vein comes to the surface of his neck, which just sent electricity straight downward. You spoke, “Thank you, Jimin.” It seems as if your plan is working, you had a reassuring thought about how the subtle hints work the best. All you wanted was for him to take you in the car at that moment, you didn’t necessarily want to wait any longer.

There were a few moments of silence before Jimin’s phone buzzed. He pulled his phone out to see one of his favorite colleagues texting him.

[6:03 pm] Kim Taehyung: I know you don’t want to be here, but that doesn’t mean you and Y/N can avoid the dinner by sitting in the car until it’s over.

Confused by Taehyung’s knowledge of his location, Jimin looked up from his phone and searched from outside the window, only to find that his colleague leaning against the car parked right next to him. Jimin got out of the car to greet him, “Thank god that you and Y/N at least here with me to get through this.”

Taehyung chuckled and gave Jimin a quick side hug, “I honestly don’t know how you and I got through this past quarter. I can’t wait to sit with you and see what you do as a consequence for everyone.”

Taehyung was the CFO of the company, but also a life-saver for Jimin for the past few years. Jimin and Taehyung had been very close friends since college, and it’s been an absolute relief for Jimin to have him in the company. Taehyung took more of an emphasis on finance rather than sales, unlike Jimin; which was helpful since there was no competition in success or jealousy in career advances between them. Either way, Taehyung, and Jimin climbing up the career ladder together, eventually landing executive positions in the same corporation.

You got out of the car as well and walk over to the two boys with a smile on your face. You were happy to see Taehyung. “Taehyung! How have you been? It’s been so long!” You gave him a quick hug, and as you let go, you notice Taehyung’s lingering gaze on your legs as he takes hold on both of your hands.

“I’ve been good, Y/N! I don’t think I need to ask you how you’ve been doing since you look lovely tonight.” Taehyung smiles with a toothy grin before letting go of your hands and looking at Jimin, “You gotta be careful Jimin. You might have to keep an eye on Y/N because you don’t wanna lose a girl like her so easily.” Taehyung was always a flirty guy, but he never meant any harm, of course, he just liked to tease Jimin a bit.

Usually, Jimin would joke around about how Taehyung would never end up with anyone but his assistant, Jungkook, but right now, it was not the time for Taehyung to even glance at his girlfriend’s figure for any more seconds. Jimin needed to keep himself control, he needed to stay calm. Jimin joked with a little strain in his voice as you and him starting walking towards the restaurant, “I don’t need to keep an eye on her when you have googly eyes for your assistant. Which by the way, I know you’ve been fucking, I saw the way he looks at your ass.”

“Jungkook looks at everyone’s butt! I saw him looking at your butt the other day! Either way, he’s a man-child, and I’m nurturing him for the real world.” Taehyung raised his voice while running behind the both of you, trying to deny the truth that he’s been trying to hide from everyone.

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever you say Tae,” You turn towards Taehyung and continued. “We’ll always love you. You don’t have to hide your love for him forever.” You chuckled as you watched Taehyung start yelling nonsense as to how he’s definitely not with Jungkook and how he definitely hasn’t seen him every night for the past three weeks.

Jimin felt a bit of relief when he heard Taehyung’s babbling and your various sayings of “it’s okay, don’t worry.” I’ll be okay. Things will be fine. He reassured himself before all the three of you entered the restaurant and started to greet coworkers.

Dinner was not fine, and things were not okay. For some fucking reason, all male eyes of Jimin’s coworkers were staring at your chest throughout the evening. Jimin swore that he saw his coworker wipe the drool off his chin from staring too long. Not only that, some damn waiter named Hoseok even started fucking flirting with you, right in front of Jimin. It seemed like every male-body who was in your presence eye-fucked you, even with Jimin’s eyes sending fire to anyone who looked lustfully towards your body. Jimin wanted to spank your ass and fuck you on the goddamn dinner table every passing moment, to show everything that you belong to him and only him.

For you, on the other hand, your plan was going smoothly. You noticed the slow transition of Jimin’s mind from neutral to sour. You saw him sending fiery stares straight ahead, losing himself in the flames of his imagination, and you couldn’t help but cheer happily in your mind. But obviously, you couldn’t display your joy to the world. You saw that he barely took a bite of his entree and you decided to act the part as the caring girlfriend for the time being. “Hey honey, is everything okay? You haven’t touched your food.”

Jimin took a deep breath before turning to you, wanting to answer your question with kindness, “Um, yeah baby. It’s alright. I’m just not that hungry right now.” He pulled a quick smile for you before moving his fiery eyes to his plate, slowing moving to eat his food on his plate.

You knew he needed a push, a slight nudge towards the fall that you so desperately needed to feel all over your body. So you decided to start a conversation with Taehyung. It seemed that the boy had a bit too much to drink and you knew that Taehyung is a lot more flirty when he’s tipsy. You spoke with a bit of prep in your voice to the buzzed man across from you, “How are you feeling tonight, Tae? It looks like you’re having a good time.”

Taehyung turned to you with a grin on his face and started to laugh, “Y/N, I always have a good time with you around.” He leaned in and continued to spoke, “Did I tell you that you look lovely tonight?”

You giggle before answering his question, “Yes you did, Tae. You don’t remember?” You reciprocated his actions and moved towards him, so it looks like you’re only focused on him.

“Well, scratch that, because you look fucking ravishing right now.” Taehyung’s baritone voice seemingly got lower than you expected.

“Taehyung!” You started to giggle, even more, exaggerating your actions, “You don’t mean that”

Taehyung leaned in even closer, “Oh darling,” His eyes looking at your body, leaving his eyes to stalk your chest. “I mean every word I’ll ever say to you.” His voice was husky, and it just leaks with danger. This is precisely what you needed. This is the push that Jimin needed.

And you were right because Jimin was fucking boiling with sheer anger. Taehyung called you “ravishing,” he fucking leaned into you, like you didn’t belong to him. And you were just sitting there, taking it. Not even acknowledging the fact that your boyfriend was sitting right next to you, watching the entire thing. Maybe you were doing this on purpose. Perhaps you actually have been fucking with him for the past few weeks. Either way, the only thing that mattered to Jimin is to show that you fucking belong to him.

Once again, you jumped in your seat as the coolness of Jimin’s rings touch gripped your thigh. You felt him squeeze your skin before his thumb starts rubbing gentle circles. You turned to him, and his eyes were trained entirely ahead, engaging a conversation with one of his coworkers. You leaned back into your seat, heavily distracted by the distance between his hand and your clothed core. You took a deep breath to relax before continuing your conversation with Taehyung, but how can you focus when his hand is subtly teasing you under the table?

“Tae, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.” You spoke as your mind tried to force on the man ahead of you. But unfortunately for you, Jimin knew what you were doing so his hand decided to follow the direction of your body, sliding underneath your dress. He squeezed again, leading you to squirm slightly in your seat. You tried so hard to listen to Taehyung ramble on about how sober he is, but it felt like there was barely any oxygen in the room at the moment. You started to lean forward again, to look like you’re interested in what he has to say but as soon as you began to move, Jimin’s hand moved to your core, lightly rubbing you through your panties. You yelped in surprise, causing all eyes to move towards you.

“Baby, are you okay?” Jimin sounded so sincere, but he already knew your answer. He started rubbing you a bit harder, causing you to squirm even more in your seat. Your breaths started to shake as you realized how mortifying this situation was; everyone was staring while your boyfriend rubbed your clit in a public restaurant. But somehow, you felt exhilarated at such a display, leading to the coil to tighten in your stomach.

“Yeah, I’m f-fine.” You needed to keep your responses to a minimum. You couldn’t let anyone know the truth behind your dishonest words. You’re not fine. You’re fucking fantastic because Jimin has finally touched you, something you’ve been waiting for a long time.

“Are you sure? You sound a bit anxious.”  Jimin’s fingers moved your panties to the side. His middle finger slipped inside your folds, teasing your hole.

You knew if you opened your mouth, you would start whimpering, so you nodded your head towards Jimin and threw a weary smile on your face. You looked around to find that the eyes of his coworkers were off of you now. Jimin leaned in closer to your ear and spoke, “Baby, you better fucking speak up right now, or I wouldn’t touch you for another month.”

All you wanted to do is whine and let Jimin do sinful acts to your body, but you knew that this side of Jimin wouldn’t be tame unless you listen to his words. “Yes, I’m okay Jimin.” You whispered softly.

You heard Jimin sigh, and it sounded like he was frustrated with your answer. He impulsively pushed his middle finger inside, pumping it at a slow pace. Jimin moved again to your ear, “That’s not my name tonight. Tell me, baby, what’s my name?”

His fingers were going agonizingly slow, but since your body has been so unsatisfied for the past few weeks, the pressure seemed to double. You could barely answer his question without focusing on the sharp sparks that coursing throughout your body. You don’t call Jimin anything else besides loving pet names and his actual name. What could he possibly be asking for?

Before you could think about it any further, Jimin added another finger inside you. A small mewl crawled from your mouth as you leaned towards Jimin, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I-I don’t know.” The build of your impending orgasm was growing faster, leaving your body to be shaking by his side. You were trying so hard, but it’s just so hard when everything is turning you on.

Jimin curled his two fingers to your g-spot, leading you to whine into his dress shirt. Jimin chuckled, happy to see you withering for him so quickly. His voice was stern when he started whispering again, “It seems like you’ve been missing Daddy’s fingers, huh?”

Daddy? He’s never called himself that before. Jimin has never brought that kink up but how does it matter now when he sounds so fucking hot talking to you like that? His fingers start moving faster, and your legs start shaking. He’s curling his fingers with each thrust, and the burning-pleasure is leaving your mind blank. You gotta warn him of how your end is almost near, “D-Daddy, I’m close.”

“Awh baby, you’re close? You like it when Daddy finger-fucks you under the dinner table, with everyone around us?” His words are only bringing you closer to your end, and you were struggling to keep your composure.

“Y-Yes, Daddy” Your voice was shaking, and you look up to Jimin, only to see his eyes filled with nothing but black lust.

“Of course you do. How can you not? A slut like you love everything that’s done to them. Do you even know how dirty you are?” Such a name should irritate you but god, it was sending arousal to your core, and you find yourself whining for him.

My eyes immediately shut in pure paradise, and you started to squirm again when Jimin’s thumb landed back on your naked clit. Jimin’s lips glaze your ear, “Cum for me, right now.”

His tone of voice was deep and stern, which led you to lose control. Your hands quickly covered your face in order to conceal the moans that escaped your mouth as your orgasm sweeps through your body. Jimin continues to rub your swollen nub as you ride it out. You were trying to catch your breath as your face turned away from your hands to Jimin, only to find him smirking.

Suddenly, Jimin grabbed your hands and stood up from his seat, bring you up with him. “I apologize everyone, but it seems that Y/N isn’t feeling too well right now, so I think it’s time for us to take our leave. Y/N wants to stay, but I wouldn’t feel good if we did stay. I’ll see you all at work on Monday.” Jimin waved goodbye to his coworkers while you kept your head down, playing up the “sick” act correctly. You waved to everyone as well as both of you started walking towards the car.  As soon as both of you were outside of the restaurant, Jimin wrapped his arm around your waist, squeezed your ass, and let his hand rest at your hip. As you both walked to the car, you looked up to him. You could see that he was relieved to be done with that dinner and happy to go home with you. Both of you got to the car, and before Jimin could unlock the car, he interrupted by the sight of Taehyung running towards you.

“Y/N!” Taehyung stopped right in front of you and grabbed your hand, whipping you out of Jimin’s hands and in his direction. “Why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t feeling well?” Taehyung murmured as he looked at your small hand in his large one.

“Oh, I didn’t want to worry you, or anyone.” You took your hand out of his and waved it in front of him for reassurance. “Don’t worry about it! I just need some sleep.” You smiled at him, and he leaned in closer to you, like at the dining table.

Taehyung grabbed your hand again, rubbing circles on the back of it before looking up to you. “Call me when you get home, alright? I wanna know that you’re okay.”

You were happy to have a friend like him in your friend, and your smile got brighter at that thought. “Of course! I’ll see you soon.”

The flirty side of him came back as he kissed the back of your hand before letting it go. “I’ll see you soon darling.” Taehyung had a goofy grin again and looked to Jimin, “I’ll see you on Monday man, don’t let your girl get sick or I’ll help her out instead.” He winked at you, and he started to laugh as he began to walk away.

Although you thought this was funny, Jimin did not at all. You only realize this when you saw the several veins in his neck pushing up to his skin. “I’ll see ya later.” He spoke through gritted teeth. You saw his fists tighten so hard that you felt he might actually break his bones. In the years that you’ve been dating Jimin, you’ve never seen him so angry. He unlocked the car and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for you. He realized that you were frozen in place, so he started to speak in the sweetest tone he can muster up with the anger running through his veins, “Y/N, get in the fucking car right now, or things will get worse.”

You practically bolted to the car seat, and you felt the car shake as Jimin slammed your door shut. He walked over to the driver’s side and sat in the car. He repeated his actions, and he harshly closes his door before putting his hands on the wheel. He exhaled deeply and turned to you, “Tonight, you’re gonna listen to every word I say. Do you understand, sweetheart?” You nodded your head to him, analyzing the strain in his voice. He was frustrated, and you honestly did not expect this level of dominance. “Good girl.” He responded before turning on the car.

You look down to your hands, thinking about what could happen tonight and all the things Jimin might do to you. “Are we going home?” You asked politely, wanting to alleviate his irritation.

Your question had the opposite effect, causing his veins to strain more. His jaw clenched, and he slowly turned to you at a menacing pace, “Baby, did I say that you could talk?” You were about to open your mouth, but Jimin continued, “I don’t wanna hear another word out of your mouth. Got it?” You nodded your head and returned to the position that you were in previously. Jimin’s hand lingered on your thigh and squeezed it to get your attention. “Tell me a safeword.”

A safeword? There were a few moments of silence before you thought of a sinister idea. You thought to yourself, He was already angry, why not triggering him more? You had a sense of where this night will lead to, and you were happy with the results. But a part of you wanted to tease him a bit more.

Jimin spoke once more, “Have you thought of it yet? Tell me.”

You muster up all the confidence you had, and you began, “Yes I did. The safeword is Taehyung.”

You thought that Jimin was angry before, but you were fucked now. You could feel the tension in the air.

His nails dig into your thighs, close to breaking the skin. You could see the stream coming out nostrils as he looked at you with nothing but depravity. You swore that he growled when he spoke, “Okay.”

You were screwed for tonight, but in every perfect way, right?

[angrylizardjacket]

and then there was light [3] {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: Prompt: angst Roger and y/n because he’s jealous after a party

A/N: 5981 words!! What?! Like, it’s not explicit, but I might have given the reader a slight praise kink. Some sexual content. There is mentions of cheating, just to let you know if that makes you uncomfortable. There might be a problem with pacing but like... suspend your disbelief. Also.... you’ve got a big storm coming.

[part 1] [part 2]

Your grip is white-knuckled on the armrest as you felt the plane rumble beneath you; anxiety is clutching at your chest as the world falls away beneath the wings of the machine and you’re rising into the sky. Roger isn’t outright laughing from where he’s sitting next to you, but it looks like he wants to. Thankfully, for his sake, he contains himself, resting a hand on your thigh, rubbing it in a gentle, comforting rhythm.

“You’ll be fine, love, these things hardly ever crash, and if this one does, it’ll make the news, probably.” He shrugged, and you glared at him, trying to push down the anxiety curling in your stomach.

“You’re the single least reassuring person I’ve ever met.” You snapped, but he just grinned wider, his hand moving higher on your thigh, your legs part just a little, out of instinct, and you’re too anxious about the flight to even blush at it.

“I could distract you instead.” He offers, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. Something eases in your chest and you relax your grip on the armrest to put your hand on his. “Love?” He asks, watching how you’re leaning your head back against the headrest, eyes closed, like you were trying to go to your happy place, wishing you weren’t trapped inside this plane. His hand twitches to move away when he doesn’t get a response, but then your own hand is guiding his a little further up, and you’re wearing a little, playful smile, though it’s strained. Roger has to bite back a laugh.

“Could you please wait until the seat belt sign is off?” John’s voice interrupts both of you, pressing his face into the space between your headrests where he’s sitting behind you, sounding characteristically exasperated.

“Or wait until we land, like any decent human being.” You can hear Brian’s sigh from where he’s sitting beside John, his words followed by a world-weary sigh.

“You were both cuter when you thought we didn’t know.” Freddie says, matter-of-factly, and Paul hums in agreement, the two of them sitting in the two seats in front of you.

“So were you.” Roger snaps back, leaning back into his chair, sullen at the sudden onslaught of bullying from his band-mates. “And get your bloody face away from mine.” He smacks John’s forehead with his free hand, which has the man retreating, but you’re silently thankful. Despite this, you’re also flushing with embarrassment, which is only quelled when Roger flips his hand over on your thigh to lace his fingers with yours, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

It’s weird, to be in public, well, sort of public, and to be allowed to actually be with Roger. You’ve always been so hyper aware of his image, careful to keep your distance where prying eyes might be lurking, the last-performance kiss notwithstanding, but here, in the relative safety of first class - and god, that was a mind-boggling realisation - he’d wrapped his arm around you. Once the seat-belt sign has been turned off and the in-flight movie has started, he pulls you into his lap on the luxuriously spacious seat. Everyone on the flight has headphones to listen along to the movie, and the plane is almost silent as everyone looks to the overhead screens. It starts innocently enough, except sitting on Roger isn’t exactly comfortable; he’s got one hand resting on your thigh, innocent enough, and the other on the armrest, but you find yourself shifting every few minutes trying to get comfortable, but it isn’t really working.

“Are you right there?” Roger moves your headphones off of one of your ears, speaking low and quiet, only to you. When you look at him, he’s not even looking you in the eyes, he’s looking at your lips, and you feel your chest tighten, though in a very different way to the plane taking off earlier.

“What?” And you shift again, trying in vain to get more comfortable before you feel him hard and pressing against your ass through his pants, and it dawns on you. After a moment, you lock eyes with him, finally, and wiggle again, deliberate, suppressing a smile. He leans in to kiss you, rough, insistent, his hand on your thigh moving dangerously higher.

“Let’s not ruin everyone’s movie,” he breathes as he pulls back, his hand moving to give your ass a light tap, and you take the hint, taking off your headphones and making a beeline for the bathroom. You find yourself waiting for almost five minutes in the stall before there’s a knock at the door and Roger’s whispering your name. You haven’t even fully locked the door before he’s pulling off your shirt, murmuring about how you both had to be quiet, though he was grinning in that way that made you melt, and made you want to be anything but quiet.

When you head back to your seats none of the others comment on it, though they do seem pretty enraptured with the movie. Your anxiety at flying had dissolved; you’re feeling all warm and syrupy in the afterglow, and Roger clicks down the armrest that separates your two seats, and shifts so that you he can still wrap his arm around you, but you’re sitting next to him, your legs stretched out and arching over his. He puts his own headphones back on, smile supremely satisfied, and you give yourself a little, mental pat on the back, but don’t bother with your own headphones, resting your head on his shoulder and falling asleep, feeling secure and safe with his arm around you.

When you land, you find yourself whisked almost directly to the new tour bus, and you suddenly find yourself filled with a new uncertainty. The space, at least compared to what you were used to, was lavish, not a single road case in sight.

“You guys live like this?” You crowed, eyes wide as you raced through the spacious vehicle, plopping yourself down on the cushioned bench beneath the back window while the rest of the band, and the crew travelling in this bus started getting settled in.

“Well yeah, was the other bus really that different?” Roger asks, joining you, sprawling himself out across the seat. The sheer absurdity of his question takes a moment to sink in, but after that you’re laughing, loud and a little bit uncontrollable, mind alight with memories of hot, bump afternoons riding along at the back of the equipment bus, sat atop a road case, holding a light and gels and trying not to touch the drum kit where it was stacked up beside you.

“God, I would have killed for a cushion.” You breathe, wistful, relaxing further, if it were possible, into the seats. After a beat, you look around at where everyone’s gone quiet; Freddie and John were setting up a board game and Brian was lounging on one of the sofas running along the inside of the bus; you’re pretty sure Roger’s the only one who hears you anyways. “I much prefer it to flying though,” you admit, shifting until you can rest your head on Roger’s shoulder.

“Really?” He asked, voice quiet enough that only you could hear it. “I thought it was a pretty decent flight.” And he reaches up to pinch at your side playfully when the bus starts up. The two of you dissolve into play-fighting, which the others don’t pay much attention to, entertaining themselves as the trip to the first destination began.

“You’re- you- they call you Spotlight, don’t they?” The voice that greets you before for the first crew meeting is bright, eager, faintly accented, and when you turn, you see it belongs to a sweet looking boy with big, brown eyes, clutching at a clipboard. Laughing a little awkwardly, you nod, and his whole face brightens at the confirmation. “I’m Robbie; I’m stage managing, and they’ve got me operating the lights.” He sounds so damn excited, it’s a little endearing, and after a beat, he’s peppering you with questions about the American leg of the tour, which you answer with ease.

You’d been worried, not that you’d ever admit it, integrating into a whole new crew; the American tour was staffed with people you’d been working with for years, and here, everything and everyone was new to you. Seeing Robbie smile, so kind and welcoming, it felt like you could breathe.

“How the crew?” Roger asks, and he’s stuck with fond deja vu, sitting behind his drums, watching you cut a whole new set of gels. You’re humming something he can’t quite pick, but you seem happy enough.

“Yeah good,” you concede, only half paying attention as you work, “they’re nice, very welcoming.” You tell him, and he makes his way to you, sitting beside you on the drum risers, picking up some scraps of the gel. After a moment, your hands still, and you watch his, smiling with confusion, before looking at him. “What-” but he’s looking back at you, and he leans in to kiss you once you look up. Putting the gel and the scissors down, you take his face in his hands, giving him an endearing smile.

“I’m working.” You said softly, but he just grinned, leaning in to kiss you again. It’s fun and easy to be with Roger at times like this, times when neither of you had to worry about what other people thought, or who saw you together; you were happy and so was he, and that’s what mattered.

It gets a bit harder, you realise, when in Glasgow you’re leaving the hotel with the band and a few paparazzi come after you; at first they’re shouting at the band but then they spot you where you’re by Roger’s side, trying to keep your face hidden. You see your picture in some gossip rag the next day when Robbie gives it to you with a long suffering and apologetic look. 

“The boss wants you to be more careful about being seen.” He’s rolling his eyes at the boss’s words, however, when you ask him what he means, you learn that you’d been photographed with them in America, and people were starting to speculate that you might be part of the tour group. The Boss thinks it reflects poorly. The rest of the band is in the photo, but you’re the one being accused of being a world-travelling gold digger in the article.

When you tell Roger, or more specifically show him the article and make an offhand comment about not really being seen with the band in public anymore, he throws the magazine across the hotel room, scowling.

“They’re printing lies, Spotlight, what do you care?” He asks. You’re gentle when you step towards him, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I care about my career and my reputation, Roger, you understand, right?” Voice soft, you don’t move until he looks at you, expression a little hurt. “I know I’m not a gold digger, but if I want to get anywhere in life, I need other people to believe that too.” You explained, and he didn’t exactly seem happy about it.

“You’re fantastic at your job, babe, isn’t that enough?” He asked, and you felt yourself flush, suppressing a grin at the praise.

“I wish it was.” You told him, voice a little forlorn, and he leaned in to kiss you, a silent agreement to your request. After a moment you pulled back, actually letting yourself grin. “You think I’m good at my job?” You asked, giggling, and Roger’s expression brightened as he huffed out a laugh.

“You know I do.” And it’s the most gentle you think you’ve ever heard him, the sweet sincerity shifts as his hands come up to rest on your hips. He knows all too well the effect he has on you when he compliments your work. “How many times do I have to tell you?” He asks, a single eyebrow raised, teasing edge to his tone.

“I mean, if you told me too much I think we both know I’d never get anything done.” And your fingers are nimbly undoing his fly. With a cheeky grin, he kisses you again, rougher, biting at your bottom lip before you pull away.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He muses, watching the way you wet your lips, smiling at him. “You’re very good at other things too, love.” 

“I know.” You watch him through your lashes, biting your lip to keep from laughing as his whole face lights up and he’s snorting out a laugh at your response, and you fall to your knees, already pulling down the waistband of his jeans.

He doesn’t like that you insist on leaving the hotel at different times, becomes a little clingy in the mornings when you go to get up, but he always manages to tug you back down to him, and you get lost in the way he smiles in the early morning sunlight, the feel of his lips on yours, the way he laughs softly against your skin. 

Despite this, he keeps his distance around other people. The band he doesn’t worry about, but he stays up by his drums during lunch, and sometimes during the after parties you attend, he’ll disappear for a few hours at a time, and you find him at the bar, reasonably hammered, surrounded by fans fawning over him. He always goes home with you though, so you try not to feel too jealous.

“Hey, Light? I’m getting lunch, do you want anything?” Things start going downhill the day Robbie pops his head in during your lunch break; you’re at the top of a ladder, fiddling with the angle of a parcan, and Roger’s at his drums.

“No thanks.” You call back, chipper, shooting the ASM a smile, and when he leaves, Roger frowns at you.

“Did he give your nickname a nickname?” He punctuates it with a laugh, but it sounds more angry than anything else.

“That’s Robbie,” your explanation does not seem to placate him. You’d been spending a lot of time with Robbie, the two of you bonding over both having worked on Bowie’s last tour. “He’s German.” You add, as if the fun fact might warm Roger to him.

“I know how to pick accents.” He snapped back at you, and you actually stopped your work to look at him, a little shocked and defensive at his tone. He’s not looking at you, he’s gone back to watching the door.

“He’s the ASM, Rog, chill out, we work together.” You tell him. He doesn’t respond, and all you can do is go back to your work, a squirming discomfort making itself known in your chest.

He disappears after the show that night, not coming to find you after bump out like he usually would, and you try to assume the best; that he’s too high from adrenaline and the endorphins of such a good show that he’d wanted to ride the hype the rest of the band. It wasn’t deliberate, you told yourself.

“You going to the after party?” Robbie asks carefully, hands in his pockets, still wearing his own theatre blacks. You realise you must look a little lost, and when you decide that you are, you tell him, and he offers to walk with him. He’s sweet, excitedly gushing about how he can’t wait for the Munich show so he could see his girlfriend, and you find yourself enthusing about how exciting it is to be travelling around Europe. Once you step foot in the pub, the two of you part ways, Robbie heading for the bar, and you seeking your own boyfriend.

His whole face lights up when he sees you, and the anxiety that had been building in your chest dissipates when he wraps his arms around you, spinning you around.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up.” He told you, but he doesn’t kiss you, just pulls you down to the sofa with him where Freddie’s in the middle of an animated discussion with Brian.

It happens again at the next stop, he leaves you behind and you make your way to the after party talking with Robbie. He’s kind, sweet, looking forward to marrying his high school sweetheart. If you’re being honest, it’s nice to have someone to talk to who understands your side of touring, being another interchangeable face to the talent you’re helping, someone down to earth and . He gushes about how jealous he is of your friendship with the band, starry eyed in the cool night air.

Again, when you arrive at the venue, Roger’s already there, and he doesn’t get up this time, just beckons you to him with a bright smile. It doesn’t ease your discomfort like you hoped his smile would.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask gently one night; the two of you were walking in relative silence, side by side, not touching for fear of paparazzi, you try to justify.

“No, why?” He asked, and you look at him, eyes narrowed as you examine him, and his smile is a little far away when he looks back at you. After a long moment of silence, he takes your hand, pulling you both to a stop, facing each other. He wraps his arms around you, still giving you that far away smile, and he kisses you. “I’m sorry I keep leaving you behind, love.” 

“So you’re not mad at me?” You confirm, stepping back and taking his hand, continuing to walk.

“Of course not; should I be?” And the way he says it, so perfectly fucking harmless, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“No!” You defend, and he’s laughing easily in the moonlight. 

It keeps happening, sporadically, and it always seems to coincide with whenever he sees you and Robbie together, or Robbie comes in to offer to get you lunch, and you know what’s happening before you dare to admit it.

On some of the nights where you opt to go straight back to the hotel, you’re woken by him flopping into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him, warm and protective, at odds with the discomfort in your chest.

“Missed you.” He yawns, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes, and one time, of faint, fruity perfume that you don’t recognise. When you ask him, he says that someone spilled a cocktail on him, and you realise you can’t even tell if he’s lying or not. 

“You jealous?” And you can hear the sleepy smirk in his words, and your own tired mind is unguarded, unfiltered.

“A little.” You whisper into the silence of the hotel room. He doesn’t answer you, but his grip on you tightens, and he hums, the meaning of which you can’t decipher. It takes you a long while to get to sleep after that.

It comes to a head a few weeks later, however, the night they perform in Paris.

“I miss her so much.” Robbie bemoaned you as the two of you walked together, his arm tucked into yours as he waxed poetic about his now-fiance. “She sent me a care package and I swear I almost cried in front of the sound operator.” 

“Why?” You laughed, and Robbie groaned.

“I opened it in the bio box because I picked it up from the front desk on my way here, like right after checking in.” By the time you get to the after party, the music is already blaring, and like always, you split up to go your respective ways. Roger greets you warmly, making room for you on the sofa he was sprawled on, wrapping an arm around you as he continued his conversation with a starry-eyed groupie, who didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You make conversation with John, who’s hovering near the arm of the sofa, bopping along to the music, looking a little bit longingly at the dance floor.

Roger goes to get a drink a little while later, smiling and asking if you’d like anything, and as soon as he’s gone, Robbie, now quite plastered, pours himself into the empty seat.

“I called her- Spotlight, I miss her so much - and she told me she loves me and she can’t wait until I get home; should I walk back to Germany? I wanna see her.” He asked, words blurring together a little from his accent and his inebriated state, and he rests his head on your shoulder.

“This is Robbie; he misses his fiance.” You explain to a confused looking Freddie, who’s expression melts into one of adoration, and he ‘aww’s at that. Robbie is starry-eyed for a long moment, before he turns to you.

“Should I walk to Munich? I miss her.” He reiterates, and you burst out laughing, petting his head fondly.

“No, don’t walk to Munich, you should go home, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.” You tell him, and he groans, clearly not having received the answer he wanted. Instead, you get to your feet and offer him your hand. “I’ll walk you back, we’re staying at the same hotel.”

You find Roger at the bar with one of your arms around Robbie’s shoulders where he’s pretty much legless, the lightweight. There’s a muscle jumping in Roger’s jaw when he sees you, and you hesitate, giving him a confused look.

“Hey, I’m just going to take Robbie back to his room, okay? I’m probably going to bed after.” You tell him. He doesn’t smile, just offers you the drink he got you and blinks slowly when you wave it away. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You ask gently, hoping to get a response from him, but he’s just giving Robbie a sour, calculating look. Robbie is transfixed by the lights behind the bar and does not notice.

When you finally get Robbie into bed, much later than you would have thought since he insisted on stopping at everything that caught his interest, and taking five minutes of standing still and explaining how beautiful his fiance’s eyes were, he’s still wearing his shoes. Once under the covers, he grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes, suddenly serious.

“You’re good. You’re a good sort, Spotlight.” He tells you, his accent coming in just a little thicker with his sincerity, and he pets your hands, before abruptly turning away from you and pulling the blankets up to his nose, clearly tapping out for the night.

The room you shared with Roger was just a few floors up, and you’re in the elevator when you realise you’d left your keys in your room. You usually did, you always went back with Roger, so you usually didn’t need them. When you approach the door, you think you hear murmuring from the other side, but it could have been from across the hall, you don’t think about it too much as you knock. There’s a giggled ‘shhh’ from the other side of the door that’s less easy to play off, but you’re tired enough to think it’s just mostly-asleep Roger. You knock again, but no-one replies. It’s too late to knock too much, and you know he’s a deep sleeper, so with a heavy, tired heart, you make your way down the hall.

“What do you want?” Paul’s frowning at you when he opens the door, wearing his blue pyjamas, squinting at you.

“Keys to the bus please, I need somewhere to sleep, Roger’s not answering.” You tell him, and punctuate it with a yawn. After a beat more of watching you, as if assessing your motives, he disappears back into his room and reappears with the keys.

“Don’t lose them.” He warned, before closing the door on you.

The sofa in the bus is long enough that you can spread out, and you find someone’s fur coat to use as a blanket. It’s comfortable enough, a little cold, and it’s only when you hear a banging on the door and feel the sunlight on your face the next morning that you get up.

Opening the door, you see Roger standing there, looking up at you, waiting for entrance. Moving back to your makeshift bed, you take a seat, giving him a confused smile.

“I... didn’t think you’d actually be here.” He already sounds like he’s in a mood, bitter, but a little bit hesitant.

“Of course I stayed here, I knocked but you didn’t answer- what was up with that?” You asked, punctuating it with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. He watched for a moment before he slid his sunglasses down his nose to glare at you over them.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice a little hoarse and scratchy, moving from hesitant to just quietly angry, the venom in his words hurting like a physical slap, and you sat up straighter.

“I’m-” And you’re searching for the words, but none come to mind.

“Why are you still on this bus?” He explains in a hiss. After a beat, he slides his glasses back up his nose, and turns to look away from you, a clear dismissal.

You’re at a loss as to how to explain that you’re here because... well, you’re always here, it’s where you were now. He’s the one who’d brought you here. 

“What do you mean? You’re the one who wanted me here.” Standing your ground, you don’t dare let your voice betray how confused and hurt you were feeling. 

“Yeah, well now I don’t.” He snapped. His words hit you squarely in the chest, and he leaves you in your shocked, dazed silence, moving to the back of the bus. “Fuck off back to the equipment bus, since you prefer it so much better.” He snarled, and that’s what unfroze you. 

“Christ, I don’t get paid enough to deal with whatever this is and ride in that bus, so that’s a resounding ‘no thanks’. And more importantly; what the fuck has gotten into you?” Emotion comes crashing back into you, rage tearing through you like a tidal wave, and you turn on him, jaw clenched.

“’Whatever this is’” he snorted, low and bitter, “yeah, but you get paid enough to fuck that little, brown-haired cockhead?” He asked, and your eyes went wide.

“Who? Robbie?” You asked, voice dangerously calm. “You think I’m fucking Robbie? Our assistant stage manager? Who just proposed to his girlfriend at our stop in Munich? That brown-haired cockhead?” You snarled, advancing on Roger like a predator cornering her prey, bitter tension gathering across your skin.

“Was he the one crying on your shoulder last night at the after party?” Roger raised an eyebrow, but the sting had left his words. Narrowing your eyes, you confirm with a single, venomous ‘yes’. “Oh.”

“Is that why you locked me out last night? You thought I was-”

“I was angry, okay?” He cut you off, sitting down at the back of the bus, and though his tone is angry, his demeanour, the way he’s avoiding your gaze and fiddling, it’s... almost guilty. In that moment, it was as if you’d been splashed with cold water, an icy realisation slithering down your spine.

“What does that mean?” Voice level, you try not to jump to conclusions, but your heart is already sinking. He doesn’t answer. When he turns away, you see a hickey on his collar that wasn’t there yesterday. “Roger, what did you do?” You asked, and the hurt was already bleeding through into your words.

“I was... I was so fucking angry.” It’s not a real answer, it’s not even a real excuse. The way he says it, jaw clenched, heart in his throat, he’s all but bleeding guilt, too proud to ask for forgiveness.

“Bullshit.” Your can feel tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill, but your hands are shaking with anger, hurt, betrayal, and you don’t even care. “You’ve been weird for weeks, you were just looking for the first out you could get.” 

“Y/N.” He stands, reaches out to grab your shoulder, but you step back, out of his reach.

“No.” Your voice is firm, but your lip is quivering. “I don’t want you to ever touch me again,” wrapping your arms across your chest, looking at his outstretched hand with disdain through your tears. “Being angry isn’t an excuse. Jumping to conclusions isn’t an excuse. I get that it must be fun fucking around with the girl who makes you work for it by your standards, but,” shaking your head, you sniffle, holding yourself a little tighter with one hand, you wipe away your tears with the other, “the moment you have to work, have to put in a little bit of fucking trust? You couldn’t even do that.”

“Spotlight, please-”

“I’m in fucking Europe for you, Roger! What in your fucking, dumbass mind thinks that I’m someone who travels halfway across the world with someone just to cheat on them?” You’re yelling now, grateful to be alone and worrying that others would join you at any minute. You didn’t want them seeing you like this.

“For me? You’re here for work! I’m opening doors for you in the industry that you’d never have opened yourself!” And he knows even as he’s saying it that it’s the wrong thing to say, but he’s too furious at himself, lashing out at the only person he could. He watches as your expression turns shocked, before shattering, and you start bawling your eyes out, holding your face in your hands. Regret floods through him, but as he steps forwards to comfort you, you yell for him to fuck off.

“I can’t- I can’t leave can I? If I leave the tour, they’ll think the tabloid are right, that I’m some dumb groupie.” And you turn, distraught, and curl up on the sofa along the inside of the bus, still bawling, loud and ugly, great heaving sobs wracking your body as you realise the full extent of what had happened, and what it would mean for you. “You’ve ruined my fucking career.”

“That’s a bit of an overstatement.” He can’t even bring himself to apologise, sitting back against the window of the bus, watching as you curl yourself into a ball, the only sound filling the silence being your sobbing. It hurts, his heart is fucking aching, but he couldn’t admit it. When you raised your head to look at him, your eyes red rimmed and lip trembling, he feels only a white hot guilt fill him from the inside out.

“You don’t get it, this industry is about who you know, and if all I am is some girl who Roger Taylor fucked, flew across the world, and got bored with, it doesn’t matter how good at my job I am, I’ll just be another groupie with aspirations.” And you bury your face in your hands again.

“We could... pretend like nothing happened, until the end of the tour.” He offers, quietly, the weakest hail mary pass you’d ever heard, and you roll your eyes at him.

“I’d rather have my dignity, thanks.” You spat, taking in a deep shaking breath as you finally sat up, wiping fruitlessly at your eyes as tears continued to flow, though you tried to pull yourself together.

“You’re not under contract, you can leave if you want.” And it might literally be last on the list of things you’d wanted to hear at that moment.

“I get it, Roger, you don’t want me around.” You snap, standing. “You are who you are; I was stupid to think you were better than that.” You sniffled. When you turn and leave, he’s silent, replaying your words over and over again in his head until he’s absolutely livid at what he’s done. 

When the rest of the band returns almost a full half an hour later, he’s trashed the entirety of the bus, even going to far as to rip up the cushioning on the bench beneath the back window. 

“So you’ve heard the news I take it.” Brian looks at the scene before them, voice and demeanour both surprisingly nonchalant, and Roger, breathing heavily amid the carnage, gives him a sharp look. “Spotlight’s heading home, something’s come up with her family.” He explains. Behind him, John’s already started picking up a fractured mug, and Freddie is just frowning at Roger.

“Yeah?” Is all Roger says, snatching up the cushions from where he’d thrown them, and flopping himself onto the back bench, facing away from them all. 

“She’s just talking to the production manager if you’d like to say goodbye.” Freddie offers, carefully neutral, and Roger suspects he knows something’s up with the story.

“She doesn’t want to see me.” He huffed sulkily, and the others lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. They can tell it’s a touchy subject but they don’t pry. They don’t hear from you, don’t even know how to contact you if they had been able to, instead they watch Roger pick up different girls night after night, trash hotel rooms, and grow shorter when interacting with the crew, especially the assistant stage manager.

“I am who I am.” Is all he says, lips around a cigarette where he’s chain smoking in the empty theatre at lunch when Freddie finds him and finally asks what’s wrong. Freddie wants to ask what happened, wants to ask why you really left, but he knows Roger well enough to figure most of it out. Roger’s a ticking time bomb nowadays, so he doesn’t pry. 

The band doesn’t talk about you, not when paparazzi and reports yell out asking where you are, not to the crew, they barely talk about you to each other, and they never talk about you around Roger. 

The bus is quieter now.

Roger’s louder now. 

There’s an ache in his chest that won’t go away, that he’s filling with meaningless sex and too much booze because he can’t stand waking up alone, and he still thinks about what you said, and the way you had smiled at him before it all went to shit. He remembers how you’d risked your life for a light beneath his drums, and sometimes at breakfast he finds himself thinking about how you’d thrown a plate of food in his face before you were even real friends, and he wants to yell, to scream, because how could he be so fucking stupid? You’d seen him for who he was, and chose to be with him despite it, you thought he could be better than his reputation, but he’d just managed to prove he wasn’t. 

It hits him when he’s got his hands on some girl whose name he doesn’t know that all he can think about is you, and he hates himself when he leans into the fantasy, not that the other girl notices. He’d rather fuck around than admit he’d developed feelings for you, and so he does, and pretends like he doesn’t miss your sleepy, morning grin, or the casual way the two of you would chat as you were rigging the spotlights for the band.

The day he finds out they’ve replaced you, the kid they’ve got is at the top of the ladder during lunch when he walks in, and he’s hit with such a sense of deja vu that he stops in his tracks.

“I was told this is the best time for me to get work done.” Her voice, thank god she sounds nothing like you, is hesitant, with none of the calm confidence you exuded at the top of the ladder.

“It’s none of my fucking business.” Roger snaps, and turns on his heel and leaves, pretending like it hadn’t felt like he’d just seen a ghost. He gets another drink.

[loveurn]

 @principalles​ // i haven’t written this au in literal years but i want to now

taeyang had become greedy. maybe a little shamelessly, but with how he easily it shows on his face and how quietly he’s started to mumble it, he thinks he’s retained some of his dignity. not that there’s much to retain after baring himself in front of hyunshik in his apartment, and crying, and having a breakdown. all in less than five minutes? maybe four? a record honestly.

han had promptly laughed after hearing the tale to which taeyang promptly threatened to shove the stretch roller up his ass. that’s what he gets for having a best friend though.

the problem is. time has passed since the incident and taeyang had assumed that their general agreement was to not discuss it. not discuss how taeyang had clung to hyunshik’s body the next morning, refusing to move until the male had said the phrase three times. the second time was because taeyang was convinced he was asleep and the third was because apparently hyunshik got a kick out of the look on his face.

you’re beautiful.

just the thought of it and taeyang’s entire body gives him away.

traitor.

the real treachery came after a morning where taeyang was sure would be the last time they discussed the incident. with taeyang but a few inches with the male, craving post-breakdown affection with the unfortunate person who’d given him attention the night prior. it’s embarrassing to think about, how he’d asked if they could eat breakfast together and how he’d had to physically suppresses noises of distress when hyunshik hinted at leaving for work that day. but they had lives, jobs to attend to and obligations. and hyunshik’s obligation was not to make taeyang feel better about the parts of himself he couldn’t love.

even if that part was his job.

he would pick himself up after that as always. he would wash his face, stretch and show his face perfectly and pristine in the studio for rehearsals. after the injury healed his restriction was lifted and he was back to the early mornings and the strict regulations. he wasn’t given a moment to breathe and that was probably easier, it should’ve helped the parts of his mind that wanted to stay wrapped in hyunshik. in his words and the way his hands felt, secured and grounding. cupping his face as they whispered the words, holding his shoulders as he held him close when they slept on the couch.

taeyang would be doing an excellent job of this is hyunshik wasn’t determined on making his life a living hell. but see, maybe taeyang’s had him penned wrong. the man with many jobs, a working man, an honest man, he was cunning.

and he hasn’t stopped using all opportunities to bring back those same feelings as if that night was only a day ago.

x.

this includes but isn’t limited to: text messages, snide comments, support at showcases, unnecessary notes. yes hyunshik has found a way to insert something similar to that dreaded phrase each time he sees taeyang and they see each other quite a lot. not that taeyang was avoided him but if he was this would’ve been a hell of a lot harder. but the coffee shop is his favorite, the bar is the only one han will go to and when there’s those lovely galas he’s invited to, hyunshik must be a part of the company they hire to cater.

it’s a cruel joke. 

because he’s sending innocent messages like outgoing [ did you like the show! ] incoming [ yeah. you were gorgeous. ]

and getting off the wall responses like that.

it’s them spending days cooking, taeyang stressing over a new recipe that hyunshik’s showing him and hyunshik spending time either laughing at him or observing him. moments that are far too silent and when taeyang seeks to break them with a question of if they’re correct or he needs to change anything he’s met with the stare. a stare far too similar to that night. and the words that accompany them.

‘cute.’

or when taeyang gets bold and asks if there’s something on his face he gets a bold,

‘it’s gorgeous don’t worry.’

he’s occasionally walking in the cafe and trying to get his order in when his greeting is along the lines of, ‘what can i get you’ with handsome, gorgeous, beautiful tacked on the end. with little regard to how astonished his co-workers seem to be by the flirtations.

can they be considered flirtations though? they don’t have the same greasiness in the smiles. not the ones he’s used to. because taeyang’s heard these before, he’s dealt with them before. flirty baristas, playful bartenders, lingering hook-ups. he’s dealt with them all and this was not that. because hyunshik’s smile was less of a smirk and more genuine, more sure in the words. maybe it’s because hyunshik’s seen him at his worst, his most open that taeyang wants to believe the smile is genuine and not a joke.

maybe he’s believing that no one could see him like that and have the gall to joke about something so obviously wrong. because it hadn’t been beautiful, he hadn’t looked beautiful and as many times as the words play over in his head, it’s still hard to believe.

but there’s no implication, no raised eyebrows, no winks, no phone numbers scribbled, or hands snuck onto his back or laced drinks. there’s just hyunshik with his words and the same smile that he gives the next customers ( though it’s not as risen for them taeyang will claim that  thank you very much ). 

hyunshik being candid so smooth that it’s knocking taeyang off-guard every time.

x.

outgoing [ i almost think you’re doing this on purpose. ]

in the time it takes hyunshik to respond taeyang almost regrets the message. but he’s had a bit of wine, sue him.

incoming [ sorry, busy shift. doing what? ]

outgoing [ asjdhgajs you know what!!! ] incoming [ did you keyboard smash? ]

a moment of silence.

incoming [ did you drink...? ] incoming [ where are you? ]

another moment of silence to mourn taeyang’s inconspicuousness. and for how his stomach leaps at the message, and he groans with his head hitting the phone screen.

outgoing [ i had some wne. i’m home mom!!! ] outgoing [ and thstg not the opint! ] incoming [ cute. ] incoming [ okay then, i’ll humor you what’s the point? ]

a lot happens then. because taeyang is momentarily struck by the message. by the image of hyunshik smiling, actually smiling as he types because he is humored and this is all probably fun for him. and taeyang is probably more of a mess than the first time hyunshik had to deal with him drunk. or less, just with more emotions. he feels too much and that’s why the word cute blares on his screen the way it does. that’s why it takes a million takes to type what he really says.

unsent [ the fltying unsent [ the flrt unsent [ flrjng wieth merg unsent [ caalng mr sthings yeou dont measn 

thankfully, it takes a gradual amount of wine to get him to send a message that works - or to work up the courage to send it when he thinks it’s acceptable enough. 

outgoing [ calling me beautiful. ] incoming [ and if i am? ]

the good news, taeyang falls asleep before he can embarrass himself further and before he gets a chance to read the response. the bad news, the messages he thought were unsent were sent, completely and fully sent and ready to make his waking hours even more miserable than he’d intended. 

x.

han is cackling up a storm the when they see each other seeing as taeyang had mass messaged him the screenshots of his mess the following morning. han had thought it was fun to ask him ‘how are you and hyunshik’ the minute he’d entered the apartment knowing taeyang had resolved to do everything in his power to avoid the male.

the answer was easy, childish but easy.

'you’re scared of how he makes you feel.’

it was a little more than that. taeyang was scared of the rush, of how drunk he’d felt on those simple words. on how he might start to believe them and only believe them because it’s hyunshik and not because of anything else. he was scared on how easily swept up he was by them, how sugary they seemed as if their path would only rot him to the core. or even worse - that he had nothing there left to rot and didn’t deserve the touch. the sweet. it was a dilemma but han wasn’t his friend for his eloquence.

‘so the man tells you you’re gorgeous. not seeing how it’s a bad thing if you feel good tae. it would do you some good to listen to someone, especially in our line of work.’

a line of work where they’re taught their imperfections while being taught to be perfect. they’re set-up for failure, to never have the right image of themselves so that their arrogance doesn’t ever come across to the audience. so that they always remain a product of the eyes and the judgement that watch them. you are not beautiful because you believe yourself to be you are beautiful because you break yourself for others and you try to be, for them. and they might give you the credit, for trying and only trying and living the illusion. 

it was hard to believe it and taeyang had never had trouble before with the easy flirts and the quick comments about his figure or his performance, even his face.

but there’s hyunshik saying it in the dark of his room with taeyang’s face tear-stained, body sweat and spent, holding himself together by a broken illusion. there’s hyunshik whispering it so that it can fill in all the cracks that taeyang’s made himself.

and it’s scary. it’s scary how filled he’s feeling by one utterance.

“i don’t want him to feel obligated.” ‘i’m ninety percent sure that’s not the case.’ “i don’t want to fish for the compliments.” ‘fish for them! ask for them everyday who cares!’

han’s advice doesn’t sit in like it should. not for the first two weeks of taeyang’s resolve. to keep his distance as much as he can. he can blame it on rehearsals as always. it leaves messages unanswered, it leaves han picking up their coffee order to bring to the studio, it leaves him at new bars and with other, unfamiliar faces, greasy bartender and fed up baristas. he lets the break in his routine happen if only to break his mind from what might be a trap.

hyunshik must be busy too, because he doesn’t go out of his way to text, which shouldn’t bother taeyang as much as it does. it stings a bit though, as if the drift is only pulling at him.

x.

if it takes a toll on his mental it doesn’t show in his work, at least not that he can tell. han tells him everyday that he needs to stop and talk it out. their choreographer also tells him everyday that he’s messing up, that he’s not good enough for the showcase and taeyang subsequently forgets all the words hyunshik’s told him in favor of that. in favor of the cruelty of his job.

because pride in himself was forbidden, and he’s deserved it.

taeyang’s never had a bad performance, not by critic standards. rookie or amateur yes but nothing serious as a fall on stage of forgetting a routine. he’s got too much muscle memory for that really. 

the thing is, he can feel the disappointment coming halfway through the performance. he hasn’t spoken or seen hyunshik in a month, preparing for this opening night. a gala performance that was the introduction to their new musical. a teaser for the lovers of high culture and art, taeyang invited as the star to debut it with the corps.

he’s been eating adequately, been practicing normally but the pressure - maybe it’s the pressure. he tries to rationalize through his movements, through the music what the feeling is. that’s during practice and he can’t quite pinpoint them. the performance is in three hours and he doesn’t have time to figure it out, not with costuming and dress rehearsal, not with getting ready and mingling before. not with the face he has to steel press on the minute he walks into the venue. and he should know that there’s no point in trying to analyze himself and his emotions when it’s the day of performance but he’s doing it and he’s coming up blank.

and he wishes that’s the face he could keep on. but when his choreographer’s called him out on it, in those hours before the show, in the same way he’s been grilling them, breaking him into the new routine. it’s not new but it does wear and tear. as the pressure does, as the stress does, as taeyang lets his body take the hits as much as his soul does. soft despite the years of training and steel he’s supposed to have built up.

‘you’re not giving me your best tae.’ ‘i don’t know, we might have to give this to someone else.’ ‘this is a debut for our sponsor.’ ‘why are you breaking form!’

something feels wrong. and he’s suddenly aware that he was right that he didn’t deserve the compliments, that he didn’t deserve the words. and taeyang can’t remember his routine for clearing himself before a stage despite it all, can’t remember what he would do before hyunshik. because everything done after was so refreshing, healing.

as he tries to steel those thoughts away and smile for a councilwomen, he catches the movement out the corner of his eye. he doesn’t need to look further, doesn’t need to chase it or the voice he hears giving out orders for appetizers. he knows it’s hyunshik, his body knows the sound. and he wants to smile, he wants to run, he wants to do everything in once. but his choreographer’s smile is strong, his misplaced praise drowns out everything and the councilman’s hand on his waist feels tighter than usual. it’s a trap. taeyang’s trapped.

he’s reminded of the perfection he needs and the perfection he lacks.

he can’t see hyunshik anymore, can’t remember what he’s supposed to focus on other than the importance of this performance and the fact that he’s not ready. he’s not perfect, he can’t fake it today and his body won’t shut down enough to let him.

there isn’t enough time and han rubbing his hands before the performance doesn’t help. taeyang staring in the mirror as he finishes the last touches don’t help and the breath he takes before the music starts and the lights dim don’t help.

whatever it is, whatever it is that clogs and prevents him from surrendering to the strive for perfection. it holds him the entire performance. he’s suddenly aware of all the eyes, of all the eyes, of his director’s frown of the awe of the audience and of hyunshik’s eyes. even if he doesn’t quite see them, he knows. 

disappointment is an ache he swallows tight while they clap and cheer.

taeyang doesn’t have bad performances, there’s no fall there’s no mistake but he knows. he knows it enough. he knows it as the pictures are taken, as the hands are shaken and flowers and doubled in his arms. he knows because he could hear his breath as the music stopped and the spell was broken. the spell of the character he’s supposed to be for the audience.

he couldn’t create it. he failed. 

and his director doesn’t rip into him yet, his choreographer doesn’t, too busy soaking in the praises from the audience. but he knows. when they’ve pulled the corps backstage to recap everything and it’s him, his director and choreographer zoning in on him for fifteen minutes. 

‘you lost your character.’ ‘your form was terrible.’ ‘how could you do that?’ ‘you could do better.’

and when it’s over and he faces his own mirror backstage his makeup’s smeared with tears. he’s not exactly crying because he was chewed out by his directors or in front of the corps. no he’s more crying because of the loss of control, because of the sloppiness he’s allowed in something he so deeply cares about. he’s frustrated really, confused and so the tears come. 

taeyang hears han calling for him and he makes for the back exit with whatever strength managed to carry him through the performance and hold him up after it all.

x.

as luck would have it he’s heading out the back doors by the alleyways and hearing a voice that doesn’t sound like han’s.

it sounds like a memory. sounds too good to be true and almost like a nightmare in itself.

because taeyang’s whispering not now, why now. but he can’t stop time and he turns to see hyunshik slipping his phone into his pocket, standing by the back entrance of what is probably the kitchen quarters. because of course whatever he was doing ends as taeyang is running from everyone. regardless he’s stopped and more aware of the tear stains on his cheeks, the falling glitter that’s not streaming down his face, and how horrid he must look.

‘taeyang.’

and the fact that now he can’t pretend he didn’t see hyunshik.

“yeah?” taeyang wants to hide, and he does so with his head lowered as he answers, his body folded in and ready to bolt when he can. it’s the first time he’s been aware of his voice since the day started, and the affirmation the he’s not all hear, that he’s been crying, that he can’t quite bring himself together. but he doesn’t move like he wants, he waits.

‘your performance...’ comes first and taeyang feels his body stiffen. he feels his stomach churn and his chest tighten. it’s probably noticeable and his response is immediate, head up as he snaps the words back. there’s nothing sharp about it though, just that it comes desperate and rather rushed. because he doesn’t want to hear the rest, he can’t bear it. “it was bad i know.” if hyunshik means to say anything against that, taeyang is too quick to respond, too seated in his belief. he failed. he knows. but he’s smiling amongst it. “i wish i could’ve shown you better.” something that matched up to all hyunshik’s said to him.

he’s so seated in the belief that he doesn’t notice hyunshik getting closer, doesn’t notice the hand on his shoulder until he flinches. hyunshik is but a few inches from him, his hand inches from where taeyang’s stepped back, flinched away from it. 

‘tae, that’s not.’ “i’m sorry.” the rest of it, the ‘i have to go’ is only said when he’s turning to make his way out the alleyway as he intended and keep the pain that’s constricting his chest until he’s safe in his apartment. it tightens and it suffocates but it’s easier when it’s caught in his pillow. when it’s smothered and stuck in the walls of his apartment.

if his phone is ringing multiple times he doesn’t try to check why, or who it could be. instead he only answers his door when he hears han’s voice on the opposite side. lets his friend engulf him in a hug and hold him with plans of ice cream and nothing remotely related to dance or the performance. han doesn’t try to convince him of anything, that he didn’t bomb the performance ( though he makes  a few quips about their director ), he doesn’t mention seeing or not seeing hyunshik or that taeyang’s been crying and probably looks a mess. he just mentions that they should order more food since ice cream isn’t nearly enough.

and they do just that.

x.

taeyang is a wimp so he gets han to open the messages hyunshik sent him, just for the sake of getting rid of the notification. and han doesn’t complain, lets him be in his moods and his avoidance for as long as he needs. taeyang can’t face the messages, for a multitude of reasons but the top being he needs to get himself together before he tries to engage whatever hyunshik had said, whether it’s anger at leaving him without a word, ignoring him, or god forbid those sweet words that’d held him above the tide for so long.

so there’s practice again. there’s the bend and the break. the edge that he faces each day, trying to stay afloat it all, present and drowned in his work. it’s hard but he makes it, he always makes it.

he has to rewatch the performance but this time when he does it’s in the comfort of his room, with his pup curled in his lap. he analyzes and what he can’t quite steel away he lets fall on the pads of his finger and his screen.

maybe he’d been so uncomfortable because he’s used to sharing these moments alone. the deconstruction that he had to do to himself in order to be great. he was so used to doing it alone that doing it with hyunshik even once, had thrown him off balance. it’d felt good - so good but taeyang was scared of it feeling like the best and getting attached, addicted. to the point that if hyunshik disappeared he wouldn’t be able to return.

return to what though - as if this routine was any healthier.

it worked though, working himself to the bone.

it works. 

x.

he’s not banned from the official debut, he’s just expected to do better, to be perfect in every sense of the word. and slowly he gets his rhythm back, it’s not as smooth, feels a bit stretched and awkward but it’s a rhythm and it produces results. what bothers him is that it doesn’t feel smooth but it’s definitely the routine he was used to before all this. before the feelings and breaking himself over for the man with the calloused hands and the candid smile.

x.

when the time comes dress rehearsal has gone different. he’s in his head but he’s not as afraid. he can feel the muscle memory, can feel the haze of the music as it’s all but set and soaked in his brain. he doesn’t review much as he stretches backstages and just repeats affirmations, perfection, perfection, perfection.

‘ready to shine?’ han is meeting him backstage, no doubt after dropping his arm candy off in their auditorium seats. in his hand are a small bouquet of flowers that he places on the vanity.  “rude of you to give me flowers your date brought.” ‘asshole, they’re not from me to you. but they’re definitely for you.’ they’re a mixture of pink flowers, white ones and blues, all taeayng’s favorite colors. there’s a note inside, yellow with a silver pattern around the border. taeyang is used to getting flowers before big shows, though they usually come afterwards. intrigued that han is bringing a set personally, he reaches for the note.

and sputters when he reads it.

they’re being called though and he’s being ushered up and out to the stage.

x.

the performance is a bit of a blur. which is a good! that’s good, his muscle memory saved him and he was able to deliver as flawlessly as expected. does he have critiques for himself, yes. but nothing a few reviews couldn’t fix and not enough for his director to pull him aside. so he’s content. he usually feels an airy bliss when he’s come down from performing, the curtain lowering and the high subsequently falling, settling into the noise of his head and the noise of the audience. 

he’s breathing again but this time it’s because he’s running. past those asking for picture, past the corps and past everyone until he reaches the lobby. until he reaches hyunshik, the yellow note tight in his fist and his other fist reaching for the back of the male’s jacket.

his voice stops when hyunshik turns to meet him, and his hand starts to loosen on the hold. what had he run for, what was he even going to say. the note is crumpled and sweaty in his palm and hyunshik’s gaze is, surprised and then calm. patient.

what had he planned on saying?

“the note.”

beautiful as always. it read.

“you hadn’t even seen the performance.” ‘doesn’t mean i didn’t think you’d be.’ “but - you couldn’t have known.”

you can’t have that kind of faith. is what he means, it’s what he doesn’t say. as if not giving him the chance to continue his thoughts hyunshik’s closed in, and his hands are lifting taeyang’s head from his chin. taeyang’s then aware that his eyes are watering again, that he feels powerless but in a different way.

‘you always are. tonight. before tonight. i’m sorry i didn’t get to tell you that at the last one.’

why is he apologizing. he doesn’t need to apologize. taeyang has so many, so many apologies lined up, ready. but he’s hiccuping and hyunshik is smiling so sweet, so sincere. 

‘it’s hard to get tickets for this one so i was working to afford it - then han went and invited me for free.’

it’s not right, he doesn’t deserve this. not the devotion. not hyunshik working extra for him. not hyunshik still smiling while tears roll down his cheek, while his hands shake and find purchase in his tuxedo jacket. 

“you don’t have to be nice.” ‘taeyang, i am anything but nice.’ taeyang’s heard those stories. of how strict hyunshik was viewed by other employees, by other customers. he’s heard him take orders before, handle rowdy guests and even dismiss people who were far less annoying than han. he knows nice isn’t exactly the right word, but mean isn’t either. ‘i’m just honest.’

more tears fall and they start to run over hyunshik’s thumb. taeyang’s a sniffling mess, his head is scrambling again but in a way that’s more how his stomach feels. an onslaught of emotions, rather than the thoughts, it’s all getting blanked, overrun. 

‘what i think is beautiful, is beautiful. whether he believes it yet or not. so i will say it because why not? why shouldn’t I?’

taeyang doesn’t have the heart to think how he doesn’t deserve it. the thoughts can’t penetrate right now. he’s filled with thoughts of this smile, of this touch. of hyunshik inches from him, of the cologne sprayed on his cuff links, of the cup of his hand on his cheek and every brush of tears that comes after. how can he thinks when he’s all static and it’s all screaming for the man in front of it again. how can he deny himself the indulgence when hyunshik has already made up his mind about it. 

how could he deny himself anything less.

“can you say it again...please.” he allows himself to be shameless. ‘you were beautiful tonight taeyang.’ so hyunshik says it and so taeyang lets himself believe it for the moment. for the kisses placed on his forehead and his cheeks, for the laughter so easily pulled from his lips and the kisses stolen from there as well. it’s cute and it’s light and taeyang feels like he’s soaring, letting hyunshik fit arms around his waist and shield him as they head to his apartment. 

he’s a giggling mess from all the kisses and the repeated whispers of the same phrase. he’s become a little greedy now, attacking hyunshik for more when they cross the threshold of the elder man’s home.

“i’m sorry for running away last time.” ‘mhm.’ “and i’m sorry for ignoring your messages.” ‘mhm.’ “and i’m sorry for avoiding you at the same time.” ‘hm.’

all said between kisses, distractions really.

“say it again?” the question is shy, tucked into the white undershirt of the tux and the spot he’s occupied with hyunshik’s chin atop his head and his arms fastened around the elder’s body. hyunshik says it again and again, long after he’s wiped away all the tears. long after the traces of makeup are just a few black streaks and lingering sparkles. long after taeyang’s found a pair of trousers and a hoodie to throw on and they’re in a bed not a couch. 

hyunshik whispers it so many times it sticks to the walls how it permeates and floats around in taeyang’s mind. floats and dances and holds him as he replays every move from the night, every attempt to criticize and berate himself stolen back with each kiss and each laugh that has him floating and falling. hyunshik kisses away the mistakes so tenderly taeyang almost forgets they exist, his body on fire in a way that dance doesn’t sum up to.

on fire in a way that’s probably not reserved for dance. but for the two of them. and in a way that makes him think it’s okay to be a little shameless, and a little greedy.

and even if they stop when hyunshik insists he get rest, something about the firm hold the male has on his body lets taeyang know he’s got more awaiting him tomorrow and long after that.

[jadeender]

The Fortress of Darkness and Light Part 1

The next morning the heroes awoke and prepared for the final battle, Legend assured them they could reach Veran’s fortress before the day was over and they revealed in the idea that in only a matter of hours they would be free. Free from the influence of the darks and finally back to their own selves. 

With all their weapons and armor at the ready, magical tools on hand the ten of them set out from Legend’s house. The purple rabbit man, Ravio, had insisted on following them, claiming to worry about Legend’s safety. 

Sighing Sky walked alongside his friends, he should have felt happy to almost be rid of Stygian, but he didn’t. If he was honest he hadn’t felt much at all recently. Stygian kept quiet most of the time which was almost worse than talking constantly. 

The day passed in a haze, everyone was on edge legend and Ravio led the group reassuring every once and awhile they were getting close. Despite being “good friends” Sky never really saw Ravio and Legend act like it. Both of them kept their attention on other things and rarely spoke to each other while they were traveling. 

Sky just wanted it all to be done, he wanted to rest. It had been so long since he’d had a refreshing deep sleep, since he dreamed instead of having cryptid nightmares that only filled him anxiety and stress.

Just after their noon time lunch break Legend turned to address them, his skin had become more ashen recently and the green highlights in his hair more pronounced. 

“In just about ten minutes of walking Veran’s fortress should be in sight. Once we get in we just have to make it to the top and take her out. The usual stuff. I don’t know what kind of traps she’ll have set up so be ready for anything.” With the Legend turned around and lead them on.

Surely enough very soon the fortress appeared in their vision, it appeared like a twisted imitation of Hyrule castle. Colored all dark great a shadow was cast over the land, as they continued on the draw bridge opened and Veran’s voice drifted out over the wind,

“Heroes of light, creatures of dark, and those in between. You seek to be free yet first you must pass through my fortress, trials of dark and trials of light await you. Only if you embrace both will you succeed.” 

As Veran’s voice faded so did the light around them and the heroes slipped into unconsciousness. 

____________________________________________________________________________

When Sky awoke again it was like his head was full of dense clouds that made his thoughts fuzzy and slow. Looking around he saw only Legend, Four, Wild, and Twilight. The others were gone. A quick survey showed they were in a small room with a corridor leading outward. 

“She split us up.��� Legend observed looking at his friends before registering, “Wait where’s Ravio?”

“He’s probably with the others.” Twi comforted as Sky moved to sitting still trying to clear his head, all their words felt muffled and distant. 

“That means he’s alone with Eternal, and Conqueror, and Callous.” Legend’s breath speed up slightly, looking on the edge of panic. “We need to find them.”

Four grabbed Legend’s hand and signed something Sky couldn’t see. As Twilight continued, “No, that means he’s there with Time, and Warriors and Hyrule. They wouldn’t let the darks hurt him.”

Legend mumbled something Sky couldn’t hear, his ears finally beginning to clear he heard Wild speak up. “We need to get moving, I’m sure we’ll meet up with others if we just go through. 

The others nodded and gathered their things. Sky stood noticing his second sword had slipped out of its scabbard, the sword he loathed to use but found himself carrying most often. Fi still wouldn't respond, not so much as a word or even a feeling in months, it was almost easier to use the demon sword rather than have to deal with that silence.

Sighing lightly he put his swords back in their scabbard as the ghostly image of his old enemy appeared by him, not that the others could see.

"Finally we made it to the stupid palace, I can't wait to be free of this stupid light." Griahim complained as he often did. 

Sky just ignored the sword spirit as he started to follow the others. Ghirahim continued to complain as they went, complaining that he hadn't taken care of the blade or complaining about the temple and it's garish design.

As they ended the hall it opened into a wide room with black and white tiles if the floor, as Wild who was in the lead stepped in the first tile it made a sound like a note played on the piano. 

“What the…?” Wild started.

Veran’s melodious voice floated over them once again “Each of you must play along to the song of the tiles, for if you dont death will befall on these trials.”

The five looked at each other, before Sky spoke up. “I think we need to play music, as we walk across.”

From his bag Sky drew his Zelda’s harp, the small golden harp reminded him of her. A heavy weight settled in his heart as somewhere in the pits of their soul he felt Stygain’s repulse for her. Sky still loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone before, but using her harp felt wrong in his hands.

Trying to push that feeling of disgust away he strummed the harp lightly its golden tones still melodious as they always had been. Four and Legend turned to their bags and dug through them, Four producing a simple ocarina and Legend producing a harp, quite different from Zelda’s. Legend’s harp was pink and blue in a circle, with golden features. As he strummed it the others could feel the power that came from it, this was not just an instrument.

Wild and Twilight just kind of stood there awkwardly and Four turned to them signing “You music play?”

“Well um I do have one thing I could try, I’m not very good with it.” With a few taps of the Sheikah slate wild pulled out an accordion. He squeezed the instrument a few times tapping the keys on the side in a familiar melody though Sky couldn’t recall its name. Legend nodded and they turned back to Twilight who shifted nervously.

“Do you not play any instrument?” Legend questioned. “I've got a spare few in my bag….”

“I um, I usually howl.” Twilight muttered. The others attention snapped back to him. 

“You what?” Legend laughed.

“I howl, I can whistle too but not without a piece of grass.” Twi said his face becoming more assured. 

“It’ll be fine Twilight.” Wild said looking at the others, he shifted his accordion and turned back around to face the room.

Sky watched as Twilight shifted into his wolf form and let out a howl, deep and full. The others played their instruments along with it, the sounds of their odd five piece band mingling together.

Sky strummed the harp as they made their way through the room, each new tile would make a note and they would respond by playing the same or accompanying ones, as they hurried over the floor it grew into a song of sorts each note helping to create the symphony. As Sky played the feeling of the harp in his hands made him warm, glad that he had this piece of her with him.

As they reached the final tile of them room it sounded with a deep tone like that of a church bell striking, though they tried to recreate it only Twilight’s howls came anywhere close to it. Though he should have felt panicked Sky didn’t, he felt calm, calmer than he had in awhile but Zelda’s harp always had that effect on him. Instead Sky just briskly walked forward off the tile into the safety of the hallway as the tile began to crack and shake. The others quickly followed running and in some cases jumping off to make it into the hallway. 

After putting away their instruments the other turned to Sky.

“How did you know that would work?” Twilight questioned. “There could have been some other trap or trick.” 

Sky simply shrugged, “It was the last tile, it was the simplest path.”

After a few more odd glances the others continued on ward as they started through the maze of Veran’s castle, they honestly did more getting lost than they did solving puzzles or setting off traps.

But as they continued Sky kept thinking about that puzzle, about the song they played, once he put it together it seemed familiar, like something Zelda would have played for him when they were younger. An image of her playing the harp, her hands moving lightly over is strings, golden hair gleaming in the sun appeared in his mind conjuring up a small smile on his face.

Could have this witch designed the puzzle, for him? To remind him of his Zelda? Sky’s thoughts wondered at the possibility, but why would she have done that? As he followed that line of reasoning Sky thoughts turned, she was using Zelda’s song to mock him. To use something he loved against him.

The dark part of his mind, the voice and emotions he’d come to associate with Stygian spoke. “You let your pathetic obsession with her make you a fool, even before this witch stepped in.”

“Its not an obsession, I love her.” He defended yet the voice rose again.

“And that makes you all the weaker, thinking yourself worthy of a goddess.” 

Sky’s heart fell as he considered the words, was he really worthy of her and her affection? He spent his entire life learning how to fight to protect her, to be a knight for their home. But for what? For a woman that would never be able to be with him even though they had been reincarnated so many times together. 

The harp now hidden in his pack seemed to grow heavy at his thoughts and he felt a growing repulsion to the instrument. All of that, just to solve a stupid puzzle?