#but quickly realized that i would never stay committed to this write-up project if I did

[obwjam]

a small surprise part 5 (gravity falls g/t)

idk what it is about this project that's getting me to write so much but damn it, who am i to question it! i hope you're all enjoying!!

this story is now on ao3 if you prefer to read it that way!

part 1 • 2 • 3 • 4

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It was hard, but not as hard as Jay thought it would be.

She had always been curious about humans, more so than any borrower she’d ever known. It was part of the reason she was shunned from so many forest clans, but she hardly cared. If she was known as the house dweller, then so be it. She didn’t hide in cowardice and let fear control her life. She had a sense of adventure. She had freedom.

Perhaps that’s what drew her to Ford in the first place. She knew how dangerous humans could be, but she knew how to be careful. She could safely observe him from a distance – or so she thought. As it turned out, she really didn’t know what she was getting into with him, but she couldn’t look away. His curiosity and enthusiasm for the weird and unknown was downright infectious. And yeah, it was terrifying. But it was also exhilarating.

Stanley had this way of capturing her attention, too, though she still didn’t quite understand how. It certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality or his kindhearted generosity. It was… something more intangible. Maybe it was the way he was so beyond dedicated to fixing the portal, something he would be the first to admit made absolutely zero sense to him, to the point where he wouldn’t even realize – or care – that he was working nonstop through the night. Maybe it was the way he would very sloppily eat, leaving crumbs strewn about that he conveniently forgot to clean up, or he’d break off a piece of food and slowly push it across the table when he thought she wasn’t looking. Or maybe it was just because he’s the closest thing to Ford that Jay was ever going to see again.

So even after the entire incident, even when Jay couldn’t close her eyes without feeling an inexplicable pressure rushing down on her, even when she shook like it was minus 20 degrees, she didn’t run. She sure thought about it, but in her mind, if she wasn’t 100% committed, then she wasn’t going to do it, because a significant part of her didn’t want to leave the house. She had gotten so used to it, finally, a place she never had to leave or hide or worry. She supposed this is why borrowers were never supposed to meet humans – complacency and comfort were dangerous things. But she’d be damned if Ford’s stupid meathead of a brother drove her from the one place she finally felt at home. She had earned this. She had to be better than him. She had to get Ford back. And even if she did manage to get herself off the table without suffering a major injury, it would only be a matter of time before she needed to come out again for food and water.

Plus, it was the dead of winter, and living on her own without a proper shelter would be deadly. Maybe she could find a warm corner in the walls, far enough away from Stan that he’d never find her, but that was a lot of work she didn’t have the energy for. She briefly contemplated the attic, but quickly dismissed it. Too many triangles.

The day after the incident was, admittedly, rough. And awkward. Neither of them wanted to say a word to the other, but Stan was clearly surprised to see her still on the table come morning. Besides a very long stretch of eye contact, he barely acknowledged her, but was clearly nervous to make any sudden movements and produce any loud noises. Jay didn’t really know what to do, and she was effectively marooned on the table, so she curled up around the stack of books and continued to sit in turmoil about, well… everything. 

“You, uh, want to keep staying here for the night? On the table, I mean.”

Jay snapped back to attention. It felt like Stan had just gotten down here. He had been working for 10 nonstop hours. 

“Um.” She wasn’t expecting to speak today. Her lip trembled as she gazed up at him. “It’s fine.”

“Okay then,” Stan replied, voice as neutral as she’s ever heard it. He stared at her for a good, long while, trying to figure out what he’d do if he came back down here tomorrow and she was gone. She was looking back at him as if he was about to strike. “It’s just – you, uh, you’ve been sitting on that table for like, a week now.” Huh. Has it really been that long? “Just thought you might – I dunno, get bored or something. And it’s freezing down here.” 

“It’s fine,” she repeated after a moment, mostly because her brain was too fried to come up with more words. But she didn’t like what he was implying, anyway. If she was going to get off the table, it would be on her terms.

Stan felt a slight frustration bubble up inside him, and judging by the way she reacted, it was written all over his face. He gave a quick sigh and opened his mouth to speak, but found he didn’t really have anything to say, so he left in an uncomfortable silence.

Over the next few days, though, it got better. Conversations were few and far between, but Jay mostly watched him work. It was actually kind of mesmerizing, the way he moved around so effortlessly and had a kind of raw strength not even Ford possessed. He was lifting pieces of metal and pushing around gigantic barrels that the two scientists used to need all their combined strength to even budge. He had stopped asking her for help, instead burying his face in the journal in an attempt to understand it all by himself. How much good that did him, Jay couldn’t quite tell, but he had managed to put a lot of the broken pieces back together, even if nothing actually turned on. 

Today had started mostly quiet, but as the hours passed, the curse words became more frequent and the slamming down of tools became a common occurrence. Stan was hitting a wall. He needed a drink.

“Hey, short stack, where does Poindexter keep the extra drinks?”

Jay peeked an eye open. She didn’t even hear him reenter the room. Had she been asleep all this time? “Uh oh, don’t tell me you passed out again.”

Jay pushed herself up on shaky arms. She had been sleeping a lot lately... 

“Um, I’m fine. And, I dunno… the fridge?”

“The fridge is empty. Drank up all his sodas and… other beverages. I need to know where the extra cases are. Poindexter’s always stocked up.”

“Extra cases?” Jay was hesitant. This felt like a trick. “Wouldn’t it… just be what’s in the fridge?”

“Haven’t you seen this place? It’s ready for the apocalypse. Besides, you’ve been here longer than I have, right?” Stan asked rhetorically, pulling up the stool and plopping down above her. Jay recoiled a bit, but regained her composure with a curt nod. “Shouldn’t you know where he keeps things?”

“Yeah, well, I–” she stopped. “I mean, you saw him before he… you know.” Jay shuddered at the memory. “He wasn’t entirely himself. I dunno where he might have put stuff.”

“Yeah, he pointed a crossbow at my face after sending me a postcard to come see him,” Stan grumbled, crossing his arms. He had tried his hardest to avoid thinking about that night. “Even after all these years… it didn’t feel like my brother.”

Jay nodded somberly. “Yeah.”

A sharp silence fell over the two. Their minds both swirled with questions about Ford; their time knowing him seemed to perfectly fill in the gaps that existed within both their relationships. Ford never talked about his time pre-Gravity Falls, except while reminiscing about college. Stan could tell her all about that. And Jay knew everything he’d been up to out on the west coast. But neither wanted to ask the other, and neither wanted to admit they were curious. So the silence stretched out until Jay was forced to ask the obvious, more pressing question.

“Is there… no food left? At all?”

Stan sat still for a moment. “Not really.”

“Oh.” Jay fiddled with her fingers. “Shouldn’t you, um… go buy some more, then?”

Despite trying to be as delicate as possible, she knew she made a mistake the moment the words left her mouth. Normally, the comment wouldn’t have bothered Stan so much, but he was at his wit’s end today, and he wasn’t in the mood to be bossed around. When he got particularly frustrated, there was only one rule — don’t say anything provoking. Just smile and nod and agree with everything he says. Jay was still learning.

“What did you just say?”

Jay shook her head. “Nothing, I was just – I meant –”

“No, I don’t think you understand. You’re not in charge here, you realize that, right?” A shadow passed over Stan’s face, and Jay clung to the cloth to hide her trembles. “You can’t tell me what to do. Nobody tells me what to do. Ever. Got it?”

Jay nodded her head vigorously, her gaze flickering between Stan’s giant, angry face and his giant, twitchy hands. “Sorry, it’s just – I thought humans needed to eat every day, that’s all.”

Stan gave her a look she could only describe as baffled. “What?”

“I – I meant –” Jay stuttered, her expression reserved. “What’s confusing about that?”

“You just called me human.”

Jay was even more confused now. “Isn’t that – yeah, that’s what you are.”

“Well, yeah, I guess, but –” Stan stopped, unsure where to go from there. He could practically feel the gears in his brain turning, trying to figure out why she worded that so weirdly, when he remembered that word she called herself – borrower. Clearly, there was a distinction to her. “What, and you don’t have to eat every day?”

She shrugged sheepishly. “Not… really. I can go a while without food or water.”

“Huh.” Stan didn’t think it would be any different. He suddenly felt stupid for leaving her food crumbs every day.  “That’s, uh. That’s strange.”

Jay didn’t say anything. What could she say?

Stan cleared his throat after a moment. “Well, I’m, uh… I guess I gotta go get some groceries, then.”

Jay blinked until realizing Stan was waiting for a response. “Oh. Okay.”

He pressed his palms on the table on either side of her and stood up, nearly causing Jay to fall backwards. Instead, she simply gawked at him as he walked toward the exit.

He stopped, though, and turned back around to look at her. They both stared.

“What?” Jay finally asked.

“What?” Stan repeated.

“Why are you just staring at me?”

“You’re the one staring at me!”

“Well, yeah, I’m waiting for you to leave!”

“Why? What are you gonna do when I’m gone?”

“Nothing! You just said you were leaving! So I’m waiting!”

Stan peered at her, taking a step closer. “Now I don’t trust you.”

“Wh–what could I possibly do!” Jay cried, throwing her arms out.

“I dunno, but you’re crafty. And trust me, I would know.”

“C’mon, there’s nothing I could even–”

“What if you’ve just been waiting for me to leave, and you try and sabotage that journal? Or mess with the portal somehow? I can’t take that chance…”

Before Jay could even process what that meant, her entire world was swept out from under her. She felt a familiar pressure on her stomach and back, and the blood rushed to her head as Stan pinched her waist and lifted her into the air. For a moment, everything was blurry, and then, darkness. She was flipped upside down on her back like a bug, comically flailing her limbs to swing herself upright. She eventually reached forward and grasped something soft, pulling herself up to her knees.

She knew this feeling all too well.

Stan lurched forward, not stopping for a second, his mission apparent. Jay used all her strength to grip the lip of his pocket and pull herself up.

“STANLEY!!!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS! PUT ME BACK DOWN!”

Stan looked down – well, he tried to. All she could see was the underside of his chin, and all he could see was his red coat. 

“I can’t? Looks like I already did, kid,” he said mockingly. “If I can’t trust you to stay outta trouble, then you gotta come with me. Simple as that.”

“STAN–!” she would have yelled more, but she was thrown around when he stopped walking. “You can’t – I’m not supposed to –”

“If you’re worried someone’s gonna see you, trust me, they won’t,” he said, summoning the elevator. “I’m just goin’ into town for a minute and leaving. I don’t wanna be there long.”

“You don’t understand, people in this town, they’re –” she stopped, realizing her voice was shaking more than she wanted it to. “They’re – they’re too – curious for their own good, sometimes.”

“It’s cute of you to worry for me,” Stan said, stepping out onto the main floor. Jay squeaked in surprise as Stan gently pressed his finger down, pushing her fully into the pocket. “Now, pipe down unless you want everyone staring at us.”

“STAN!” she cried, but mainly out of frustration. He was right – she wanted no attention from those lunatics. But it wasn’t the fact that she was being brought into town that bothered her; it was that she was being brought into town against her will. In about 30 seconds, she had gone from sitting on the table by herself to being forcibly shoved into a dirty, smelly pocket. And it was dirty. Paper clips, lint balls, gum wrappers. Why was he even putting these things in his breast pocket, anyway? It was hard not to feel like just another piece of junk rattling around, destined to be forgotten.

Honestly, maybe it would be better to be forgotten. Why did Stan think she was going to do something to the portal? It’s not like she was never left alone down there. Some days, he actually remembered to go upstairs and sleep in an actual bed and not with his head down on the desk. Jay could have done anything during that time. But maybe trying to find logic in Stan’s actions was just a fruitless effort. He was just so – unpredictable. She never knew what he was going to say, how he was going to react. Any little thing could set him off. One second, he would be delicate, and the next, he’d grab her because he felt like it. She wasn’t sure how to work around that, or if she even could. 

The long trip gave her extra time to think, and her mind drifted to Ford. It was beginning to hit her that she may never see him again. Stan was admittedly noble for trying to figure out the portal, but it didn’t take Ford-level brains to see that he was probably not going to figure it out anytime soon, despite his efforts to make it work by sheer force. And he couldn’t seem to figure out if he actually wanted Jay’s help or just wanted to ride some kind of sadistic power trip over her. She figured he didn’t know, either.

She missed her playful banter with Ford. She missed when she would do something completely normal and he would treat it like a scientific breakthrough. She missed asking him about human stuff. She missed telling him all about borrowers as he excitedly jotted down, word-for-word, whatever she said. Ford was everything she knew a human could be. He cared about her struggles. Even if he didn’t fully understand, even if he didn’t always do the right thing, he tried, and that was all that mattered. And in all likelihood, she was never going to experience that again. Maybe it wasn’t meant to last more than a few years. Maybe that was all it was ever going to be.

High above her, Stan was caught up in his own turmoil. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t harboring a tiny being in his pocket, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t laser focused on the little weight in his pocket. He found himself wondering how it felt to be in there – carted around by a huge person, stuffed in a hot, tiny space. He would hate it. She probably did, too.

He couldn't decide if he liked her or thought she was disgusting. It was hard to imagine her being all that clean; but then again, he wasn’t exactly the shining example of hygiene. But she could get her little grimy hands all over his stuff! Like some kind of – little rat person. It all felt so unnatural. It was like having a pet he could talk to; but a pet with a really, really high IQ. 

Stan was a little baffled and a lot embarrassed at how much smarter she was than him. He supposed it was only natural after spending that much time with Ford, but it still made him angry. She was tiny. A pipsqueak! Stan could pin her down with one finger and almost no effort. She could get lost in the house and Stan would never be able to find her. How could something – someone – like that be so… observant? Astute? Sure of herself? It was just weird. Even in her moments of terror and confusion, she never came across as helpless, despite what she might think. If anything, she was intimidating at that size, carrying herself with a confidence that Stan knew he did not possess himself. And the way she reacted after the incident was nothing short of intriguing. Stan found it hard to care about people who weren’t himself, but the fear she exhibited in that moment of vulnerability surprised Stan so much that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What had happened in her life to make her react like that? Stan knew she’d never tell him. But maybe one day, she would.

Suddenly, Jay’s vision was flooded with light, but all she could see was one of Stan’s massive eyes, peering at her, trying to make out her form. “You okay in there, short stuff?”

She was taken aback by the seemingly considerate question, so all she could do was nod. Stan barely saw it, but that was enough for him. “Good. We’re about to hit town.”

The next couple of hours were a blur. There was a lot of voices, a lot of stammering, a very fast heartbeat, and a lot of muffled protest. Just when Jay thought it was safe to peek out, there were no fewer than a dozen people following Stan back through town. And to her horror, he was leading them right back to the house, awkwardly trying to answer the questions thrown at him. Jay heard the familiar creak of the front door and nearly smacked her forehead. Why was he inviting them inside?! 

But not too long after, something in Stan’s demeanor changed. His body wasn’t rigid and nervous; it was pulsing with excitement. Jay’s stomach sank. This couldn’t be good.

Eventually, the noise stopped, and the voices died down. Whatever just happened, it was all over now.

“Oh, good, you’re still in there.”

Jay shut her eyes as light from the outside once again blinded her. She let out a squeak when Stan’s hand cupped her and lifted her into the air, holding her at eye level. Her heart was racing. He was beaming.

“Stanley…” she started, taking a moment to look around. Everyone else was gone, but she had to make sure this wasn't a trick. Stan’s hand twitched each time she pressed down on his palm with hers. “What just happened?”

“The best thing to ever happen to me just happened, kid!” Jay winced; he had never heard his voice so full of joy. “I mean, sure, those people? Total nutjobs. But they’re nutjobs with cash! Can you believe it? They want to pay for this junk!”

Jay was confused. “Pay for it?” 

“Didn’t you hear anything in there? I’m turnin’ this place into a tourist trap! We’re gonna be rich, tiny!”

Jay blinked. She had to suppress her desire to be sassy. None of this was making sense to her.

“Oh, don’t give me that look! It’s perfect! You can work on the portal during the day, then when I close up shop for the night, I can do all the stuff you can’t!” Stan tapped his chin. “Which is a lot, actually.”

Jay rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t done yet.

“Don’t you realize what this means? I’ll be able to buy us food, water, anything you want! We just have to fix this place up and get the word out, but if the tourists are even half as smart as the people in this town, that’ll be a piece of cake. Say, how does The Murder Hut sound to you?”

Jay stared, bewildered. Stan had this hunger in his eyes – the kind Ford used to get when he was on the verge of a breakthrough. But something still didn’t make sense to her.

“Hold on. I’m lost. You want to clean up the house and…”

“Make it a tourist trap, I already said that! People will come in, look at the stupid crap I set up, and then spend all their disposable income on gimmicky souvenirs! I’m sure all the weird stuff Ford’s been hoarding will–”

“Wait, wait. You mean… people, complete strangers, are just gonna be… wandering in and out of the house? All the time?”

Stan nodded with a grin. “Every day, baby!”

Jay was floored. That sounded insane! Ford wouldn’t want this! How could Stan even think to ruin his life’s work like that? And what if they discovered the portal?

“You can’t – this is Ford’s home! He built it from the ground up! This is is whole life! You can’t just–”

“Listen, kid, I know you don’t really know how this all works,” Stan cut in, trying not to get too angry. “But believe me when I say there is nothing we can do to get my brother back if I don’t have the money to keep the lights on. And right now, this is the best option I’ve got. All we have to do is move around some stuff and make this top floor like a museum. Nobody will ever go downstairs; it’ll be our little secret. Make sense?”

“A – museum?” Jay knew what that was. Humans would display artifacts and things they found interesting inside. And if Stan wanted to put all of Ford’s research on display… what would be more interesting for humans to look at than–

“Don’t worry, kid, I’m not gonna stick you in a display case,” Stan said, his usual snappiness pulled back just a touch. Holding her so close to him, it was painfully obvious when her mind wandered to the worst-case scenario. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jay wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she had no choice but to trust him. “I mean – thanks. But I just – I dunno, I…” She stole a glance at Stan’s face, but quickly looked away. God, he was so close. So big. “That’s a lot of people to hide from, you know?”

Stan sighed. He wanted to roll his eyes and tell her to stop whining, but the tug in his gut made him soften his expression. “I’ll make sure nobody sees you, kid. I promise.”

Jay didn’t know what to say. Stan had never sounded that sincere before.

“Look, I know you don’t think very highly of me, and I guess I haven’t done much to prove otherwise. But there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my family. So if it means rearranging my brother’s home, selling myself out for a quick buck, and worrying about some shrimp who can’t even walk across the room without my help… then I’m gonna do whatever it takes. This is the only way, Jay.”

Jay sat in silence for a long moment before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. How did Stan do this to her? How did he manage to make her feel okay about all this? How did she feel so safe in his hand right now? It must be a Pines thing.

Stan waited with bated breath for Jay to say something. Just when he concluded she might not say a thing, the unmistakable sound of her tiny voice hit his ears.

“The Murder Hut is a terrible name.”

Stan blinked. He was not expecting that. He stared at her – this tiny, remarkable little being, just sitting in his hand, legs crossed, arms pushing down, regarding him with equal amounts of wonder and disgust – and burst out laughing. She flinched at the sound at first, but soon found that she couldn't help herself. Laughter was contagious.

“What!” Stan said through chuckles. “How – how could you say that! It’s a great name!”

Jay couldn’t stop smiling. “Why would people want to go to a place advertising murder?”

“Oh, come on! It’s edgy, it’s mysterious. It’s what the people want.”

“If you want mystery… why not just name it, like, the Mystery Hut instead?”

“Oh, please! That’s… huh.” Stan thought about it for a moment. “That’s actually pretty good.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah! A mysteeeeerious old place, tucked away deeeeeep in the woods… a run-down shack, full of treasures, just waiting to be discovered! Are they even of this world? Come and find out!”

Jay giggled at his salesman voice. “Sounds like a place I’d want to visit.”

Stan found himself smiling at her amusement. “Heh, yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

For the first time, the silence that fell over the two was comfortable, not suffocating.

“Alright, Stanley Pines. I’m trusting you here.”

Stan smirked. “Alright, Jay, uh… Jay Tiny. I won’t letcha down.”

“No, you really should.”

Stan furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Let me down. I’m getting dizzy up here.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ve been holdin’ you up here for a while, huh?” I wonder how high up that looks. As gentle as he’s ever been, he lowered the tiny down to her familiar table. “There ya go.”

“Th-thanks,” she muttered, keeping her eyes down as she adjusted to the shift in perspective. 

“Now, you get some sleep, tiny. You’re gonna need all the energy you can get if we want to get this place cleaned up.” Stan paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh… you sure you don’t want me to take you upstairs? Check out Ford’s old room? Hang out with the human for a night?”

Jay smirked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just – Ford always thought it was funny, too. Found it fascinating that we had our own observations on human culture. I kinda forget that humans don’t call other humans humans.” She cleared her throat. She was talking too much. “But, uh, I’m alright. I’ll just stay here tonight.” She really didn’t want to go back in his hand. “I, um, might look at the journal some more. See if there’s something we’re missing.”

“Suit yourself,” Stan shrugged, though his tone suggested he was a little dismayed. “I’m gonna get some shut-eye. That was the most social interaction I’ve had in a year, and I’m beat.”

Jay gave him a soft smile. Though he brought this entire situation upon himself, it was clear this was weighing on him, too. He kept his promise about keeping her hidden all day, and that meant something to her. 

“Goodnight, Stanley.”

Stan turned around, still utterly bewildered at how someone who can blend into the surroundings on a tabletop could be a good companion for him. Maybe he needed to be a little more open-minded. Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing could be good for him.

“G’night, kiddo.”

[viyagari]

It’s Really One of Those Years, Eh?

I couldn't log in to Dreamwidth for some reason, so I had to go here.

First writing in 2025 and finally, an update for idk how long since I neglect my account.

It’s 5 AM, on the first day of 2025. I was forced to wake up by the sound of my cat’s auntie wailing at the door, begging for breakfast. Apparently, the door connecting the main room and the garage was opened. For a night, she was the queen of the house. I tricked her to go back to the garage and closed the door. Her reign was over. My dawn had just begun.

In a manner I found unbefitting even for my standard, I sat down and opened my laptop. As my senses started to come back to me, I typed this…essay? Confession? Whatever you call it. There’s something that I needed to let out.

What I wanted to say was…

2024 was a weird year for me.

A fact I believe nobody would be surprised about. Everybody knew last year was kind of a shitshow. Everybody was kind of unsure if this year things would stay the same, in terms of shittyness. There were so many, too many, bad things happening simultaneously. Everything, everywhere, all at once even.

A shitshow as dark as a blindfold over my eyes, our eyes.

Last year took its toll out of me, irl-wise. Right when I started to feel my age. Projects were hard to come. I made even less than the previous year. Worst election in my whole life, and even worse pre-election campaign months. Brain drain on the media, even more heinous brain drain on the internet. Kept my eyes on Gaza, the Palestinians suffered more than I did of course.

At one point, I thought perhaps it was easier to start over your country from zero. My country refused to die, yet somehow it always found a way to make things worse for itself. It kept dragging its rotten body like a zombie, and all of us who were trapped inside it.

My parents accused me of wanting the country to collapse when I debated them about the treatment of Rohingya refugees and the government’s inaction. You know what, maybe that’s right. Maybe I really wanted my country to collapse after all.

This stupid blind nationalism. Polarization even among those who were supposed to resist the government’s oppression. Police brutality went bolder for all eyes to see. Didn’t they realize that Kanjuruhan massacre was just two years ago? Oh who was I to say? Just blame the wind. Case closed.

Human tend to recall bad memories much easier than it is for good memories. It’s a part of our instinct. That’s how our ancestors survived in the wild. Little did they know it would also be the source of anguish for their successors.

This primordial instinct blinded me, and I was forced to navigate the year by haplessly feeling around. The pressure was crazy. Perhaps I’m starting to feel the psychological toll of living through the pandemic.

If you think my hyperfixation and the internet were my salvation during tough times, you’d be… I want to say “you’d be wrong”, but “you’d be right” is also valid.

I still had my DayTez hyperfixation. Past!me would’ve never written this much and made two fanbooks and a half (free paper fic). This counted as good memory. All the doujins and merchs and the printing put some pressure on me financially. And this was the bad memory, but it was entirely my fault.

First time attending Comifuro as a participant. Good memory.

Not selling even one book. Bad memory, but it was quickly offset when someone bought one on CF19 PO period.

Decided to commit to write fic in Indonesian. Bad memory, ‘cause I narrowed down my readership scope when I’m not even a big name ficcer. But it was also a good memory, once I realized that I could still write in Indonesia.  

Bought a new laptop. Now I could work faster and I don’t have to struggle with outdated software. Good memory. The new laptop put a pretty significant dent in my savings. Bad memory.

Finally returned to Jakarta and met my friends. Finally got to try that Mexican restaurant and took a lot of oshikatsu pics. Finally left the house to take a temporary breather. Good memories.

Fell ill halfway through the month and for most of the time I couldn’t go to as many places that I wanted. Felt bad because I couldn’t take my friends to the Mexican restaurant because of that damn sore throat & decided to stay in one place. Awful, awful memories.

The list could go on, but I should stop before it went nowhere.

I’m thinking about cool phrases to end this nonsense. I couldn’t think of one. Maybe leaving it without one is the best option. Truth is, I still have my blindfold on. I could pry it open, puffed up my chest, and said, “Maybe there’ll be more good things next year.”

But I have my doubts. I don’t think next year will be easier for me or anyone. That alone is another blindfold to replace the one I pried open.

I guess I will still be stumbling and feeling my way up for I don’t know how long.

[arcinblade3]

A platonic soulmate

Literally not a single soul might see this post, but that doesn't make it any less important for me to make. Also I am terrible at being concise, so bear with me if you are of the once-in-a-blue-moon person interested in me talking about something important to me.

This is a story about a woman named Cecilia, and how she saved my life. Cecilia is about five years my senior, and it is over the course of three or so years that she almost single-handedly has been the crux behind most of the changes in my life that has made me the person i am today.

Cue me, late 2021. 20 years old:

At the time, i was not doing great. I was in a relationship that was the result of a bad decision, i.e. me panicking during our high school graduation and confessing that I had a crush on the person because I thought they were pretty cool and at the time was under the impression that I'd never see them again if I didn't get into a relationship with them. Despite very much liking the person (we are still good friends to this day!), we were never meant to last, as we shared practically zero interests, and were both autistic and filled with anxiety going in vastly different directions.

Furthermore, I was at university studying as a Software Engineer, an education I had pressured myself into, and despite making good friends in my 1st semester, I very quickly realized that I was reaching the limit in terms of how long I would be able to keep up with the ever-increasing complexity mathematics and programming.

To this end, despite being surrounded by people that cared about me, I was an expert in alienating myself bc I didn't want to be a bother to the ones I liked, and at the time, was at best a nuisance for my roommates (a couple that I had known from before they were dating), which only further spiraled me into my own self-loathing.

Early 2022 was probably one of the lowest points of my life, which no doubt led to my girlfriend breaking up with me later that year, and I had snapped, my mental state in shambles. I started heavily drinking, first privately in shame, but eventually in a sad state of just sitting in the living room half-naked in the morning chugging beer, trying to find even just the smallest amount of solace in the fact that I could figure out how to do anything in my life, whether it was school, friends, health, or even just basic adult chores (which I was never taught bc my mom raised me incredibly spoiled, being her youngest and only stay-at-home child for 8 years).

I was at best a near-empty husk of a person, at worst a dead man walking. Waiting until I got killed because I thought myself too cowardly to commit to doing it myself.

Enter the topic of this post, that I had way too much background information on, a woman named Cecilia. She was a classmate of my roommate studying sociology, and was part of her research group, which frequently came to visit our apartment to do work on their semester project. I had really not thought much about any of the people my roommate brought home, they were just added noise that I would filter out as I had my daily string of panic attacks about my life, after all.

But then, on one day that they were writing their project, I had come into the living room to grab a beer, around 9:30 in the morning, and sat my shirtless, sad ass onto the couch to lay back and decompose. Cue one of the first sentences me and Cecilia had ever spoke, and one that we still go by to this day:

"Oh no way bitch, you are NOT drinking alone at this time of day."

She said in the most jovial of tones, as she paused her involvement in the groupwork, grabbed a beer and leaped over the couch to sit next to me. A gesture of solidarity such as that, towards a person she had barely even met, was mind-boggling to me. In hindsight, my roommate had probably mentioned me in idle small-talk amongst the group, seeing as I was in as bad of a state as I was, so that may have been the core of why she did so. But regardless of the reason, she jumped immediately at the opportunity to talk with me, level-headed and clearly, about things that I had never considered to be allowed topics of conversation with a real-life, at best acquaintance.

But as she extended the olive branch, I took it. We ended up becoming drinking buddies for a time, and just for that initial gesture, I had become infatuated with her. Not just from her fiery, brutally honest, mature and hilarious personality, but also that she was precisely my type; a muscular, androgynous woman with a big smile. On my part, I absolutely had gone into the friendship with ulterior motives, not necessarily with sole intent of dating her, but rather the hope that I'd end up getting closer to her in that regard, which looking back at was an utter pipe dream, most of all because I was the sad sack that I had described earlier.

And it was because of this utter infatuation (that she 100% saw through but never brought up until I did) that I took everything she said to heart, in a gambit almost child-like, with the thought of "If I match her on everything, surely she must reciprocate from how much we're *clearly* alike." For every drink we had together, I voiced concerns about my life, we had increasingly deep conversations about life where we got to know each other more and more, and I felt that connection grow more and more every time. Every innocuous comment she made about something related to me, I'd take to heart:

I started wearing my glasses rather than contacts because she saw me wearing the glasses once and said I looked cute.

I dressed more in the style of dark academia, something she mentioned suited my vibe.

I began seeing one of my faraway friends more because she met him at a party and mentioned how fun he was.

And most importantly of all, one phrase she uttered, almost just in passing as we were watering my roommates' balcony garden, ended up changing practically my entire worldview: "I know what depression is like, so I have nothing ill to say about someone going through anything like it. The point at which I get annoyed or angry with the person, is the point at which they stop trying, and stop wanting to even help themselves."

This phrase is one of the most important ones of its kind to my worldview at present. I'll keep stumbling and falling, but no matter how bad I'm doing, I can reach out. I may not succeed, but I can keep attempting to better myself. To quote a particular youtube creator:

"It's easy to forget yourself. I've been there many times, and each time, the pit is as empty and bottomless as it was before. In my paralysis, it is because of the people closest to me that I can remind myself that I CAN climb out of it."

I initially wanted to pursue something romantic with this woman. But when she said this, I realized: My want for wanting to keep her around as "merely" someone I care about was much more important than trying to pursue something unrealistic by attempting to become something I'm not. And I began re-evaluating myself. Why did I hate myself? What is the causes? And what can I do about it? My fear of losing her as a friend because of stagnating in my fruitless attempt to become some kind of "perfect partner" to someone that very much did not see me in this way, paved the way for me to start improving myself, not so that she'd see me as potential boyfriend material, but so I could be proud of the person that she chose to be friends with.

I started working out, because of my poor self-image. I dropped out of the bachelor that made me miserable. I stopped doing hobbies out of obligation, but rather because I enjoyed them. Rebuilding myself piece by piece to put a person into the lifeless husk that I had become.

And I began looking at our conversations differently, engaging with them differently, not as a glorified "yes-man", but as someone who had actual conversations with disagreements and agreements alike, jokes and talks about any topic that I could think of, because this woman truly didn't judge me based on the things I said, despite them being depressing, disturbing, or just uncomfortable to most other people I talked to in my life.

Since then, our bond has only gotten better. I never denied myself the very strong physical attraction to her, but had come to see it as nowhere near the most important attraction that I have about her. That is, as my best friend. The one who practically saved me from myself, by doing nothing other than using the 5 more years of experience with her own broken brain to coach me into becoming my own person, without reacting any kind of "violently" to the fact that I had entered our friendship partly with the intent of pursuing something romantic with her. Because she made it very clear that she didn't want that. And as she did, once that pipe dream fell away, my affection towards her only deepened, as that of a confidant, a friend, a supporter, and one that I supported myself. And of course, as she had seen me getting better and better, she wasted no time telling me how proud she was of every step that I had taken towards climbing out of the pit. I was her confidant, friend and supporter now as well, there to listen when she had family or relationship issues.

At some point in the middle of all of this, we had even started a brief sexual relationship. And we were both very much open about the fact that we were doing it as homies that were horny and wanted to feel good. Shortly after that, she got her first girlfriend, and figured out from there that she was not in fact bisexual, but fully lesbian, which once again cemented the idea that despite my "chances" being even more out of reach, it changed nothing about our relationship.

I am now studying sociology, something she is now doing her masters in. I have my own apartment which is within a 2 minute walk of her, two partners that I adore, a stronger relationship with almost all of my friends, and have practically changed my view on my entire life over the course of our friendship.

And all of this has most of all taught me that a single person is enough to change a life so fundamentally that when I see a glimpse of the person I was back then, they are honestly unrecognizable in comparison. All because of what she instilled in me. Of course, all of it has only been magnified by the support I have gotten from all of the other people that are close to me, but the only reason that I have been able to get that support, is because of that one phrase that she uttered while we were watering plants.

You CAN change.

You CAN alter your situation.

And if you're lucky enough, you can find your soulmate, one not identical to you, but your perfect complement. The yin to your yang, so to speak. And this soulmate is not measured by any form of romantic compatibility. Merely the compatibility of two wholes, forming a beautiful combination of love for one another.

I adore this woman with all of my heart. She is currently in a new relationship that she won't stop gushing about, and every word she spouts that displays her happiness, my heart sings in response, and I feel rejuvenated by the sheer joy that her own joy brings me.

My interaction with her yesterday fueled my want for writing this novel. I was having a terrible day, tinnitus flaring while I had a meeting with my guidance counselor and had pretty mundane group work that lasted until dinnertime.

Cecilia texted me if I needed something from the store. She was out shopping, and ended up buying me some bread that I was going to pick up once I was headed home. When I come pick it up though, here she is, coincidentally matching my outfit, and vibing with my girlfriend, inviting me in for dinner and a glass of wine, competing with her dog in her excitement to see me. Turns out, she had also bought me oven mittens, after she came over last week to steal my larger kitchen to cook, only to realize that I didn't own any.

And this woman, who has been notorious in our friend group for how vocal she is about despising having her picture taken, gave her phone to my girlfriend, and asked to take a picture of us together. And all I can say is...

Get you someone who looks at you like a fruity man and a lesbian woman look at each other.

[tameila]

January Week One Albums

January 1st: Taylor Swift, Taylor Swift

familiarity: I’m going in already knowing about half of the album, and I adore those songs. Taylor is one of the best lyricist of our generation. Whether you like her music or not, that’s a truth, and I would hold this album up as proof of that, especially to those who want to suggest that it’s only her recent album that show her mastery. I’m ready to hear these lesser known songs like “Tied Together With a Smile” and “A Perfectly Good Heart” that I’ve heard a lot of great things about.

favorite(s) before listen: Our Song, Cold as You, Mary’s Song

favorite(s) after listen: None of the songs that I heard super surprised me, and I would say my favorites stayed the same

January 2nd: Home Video, Lucy Dacus

familiarity: I found “Triple Dog Dare” on a playlist for songs that build to grand crescendos, which is one of my favorite type of songs, and I’ve adored it ever since. I’ve also heard “Brando”.

favorite(s) before listen: Triple Dog Dare

favorite(s) after listen: Triple Dog Dare, Christine, Thumbs, Partners in Crime, Brando

January 3rd: The Horror and The Wild, The Amazing Devil

familiarity: I was recommended this lovely band by @thesylversmyth a while back and have been listening to “Fair” for a dose of good, good Pikelan feelings every now and then. However, I never got around to listening to the album as a whole, so you can bet it was at the top of my list for this project!

favorite(s) before listen: Fair

favorite(s) after listen: Fair, The Horror and The Wild, Welly Boots, Wild Blue Yonder

January 4th: Hard To Imagine The Neighbourhood Ever Changing, The Neighbourhood

familiarity: I have a passing familiarity with a number of The Neighbourhood’s songs, but I’ve never really sat and listened to one of their albums front-to-back. My little sister is a huge fan of them though, so I asked for her recommendation.

favorite(s) before listen: You Get Me So High

favorite(s) after listen: Dust, 24/7, Softcore, You Get Me So High, Sadderdaze

January 5th: After It All, Delta Rae

familiarity: I listened to this album through years back but, after a conversation with my best friend who also loves Delta Rae, realized that I didn’t really remember many songs from it -- including her favorite. Thus, I decided to revisit!

favorite(s) before listen: Chasing Twisters, You’re The One For Me

favorite(s) after listen: every time I think I’ve pinned down 3-4 songs that are my top favorites, I relisten to one and go, “Now, wait a minute here...” so, in the name of getting this bit done, here’s my current picks...Chasing Twisters, I’ll Never Die, Anthem, After It All

January 6th: byebyeskiesofyesterday, Matija

familiarity: Going in blind but super excited for this suggestion from @hermionehostclub

favorite(s) before listen: N/A

favorite(s) after listen: troiskilometres, inlovewithamurderer, theoretically

January 7th: Illinois, Sufjan Stevens

familiarity: I am familiar with Sufjan’s music but am ashamed to say that I never actually listened to one of his albums front-to-back. Not even the one for my home state! Thus...

favorite(s) before listen: The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out To Get Us!, Chicago

favorite(s) after listen: Concerning The UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois (fun fact: did not realize that Jaymes Young’s Habits of The Heart sampled this song until I started the album and spent the first 30 seconds incredibly confused as to why I knew this song but also didn’t); The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out To Get Us!; Chicago; The Tallest Man, The Broadest Shoulders; They are Night Zombies!!! (solely for the Illinois chant that will now be stuck in my head all night thanks a lot sufjan)

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hey 🤗

So happy to hear that you're trying to get back to your writing 😊

So, for the fluff alphabet... Since I'm very indecisive in general... 🤦‍♀️

B, D, F, J, L, M, O, P for Hound, Thorn and Gregor, maybe...🙈🤭

If it's too much (probably is), you pick randomly what you want and feel like writing. I'll be happy and grateful with anything you do 💕💗

Oh gosh, so many letters 😅 haha I'll alternate between the three guys, but so glad you're requesting them because I'm eager to continue exploring their characters! (I still owe you some spicy HCs for them too 😉) Hope you're doing well friend!

B | Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

If Thorn could answer everything without getting an eye roll, he would. He genuinely means it. Their spirit, their wisdom, their appearance, their laughter... There isn't a single flaw or fault he could ever find in his partner, regardless if that's actually a healthy mentality to have or not. Once he's fallen in love, the rose colored lenses come on and he's completely lost in their entire beautiful self.

D | Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Gregor definitely wants to settle down. Though he likes staying active and is always down for an adventure, he's also quite tired of the all travel as a soldier. He'll appreciate a more stationary life with his S/O, where he can take on long-term projects and get involved in the community. He also enjoys teaching and would love if his partner did too; they'd mentor kids and adults alike.

F | Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Hound doesn't get upset on his own, but if his partner's upset then he starts to lose it a little. He's more empathetic than he realizes, and if he can't quickly fix the problem or say the right things to calm them down, he gets frustrated. He'll huff and storm off, taking his mastiffs for a walk to strategize. He never argues and is quick to apologize if he does make a mistake.

J | Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Thorn gets jealous from time to time. But those times usually don't last long. He's never shy in straight-up asking his S/O what's going on, should he be worried, etc. He knows he can trust his partner and that they deserve to have good attention from others. If they're comfortable, he is, too. Just sometimes he'll feel a little sting of insecurity, like any other guy would with a gorgeous S/O.

L | Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Gregor wouldn't know what came over him. One minute he was casually hanging out with his best friend, and the next, he's tearfully admitting to every hidden thought and secret emotion he'd ever harbored for them. He's practically on his knees and maybe he should be embarrassed, but damn if he isn't so gosh darn full of yearning that he doesn't care anymore. Now his heart's on the line and there's no going back.

M | Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Hound would have been hesitant about getting into a relationship, so in his mind, having committed to that means they're set for life, right? His partner will likely need to do the proposing... and the planning, and the paperwork, and tying all the other bows to make things official. He'll say he wants a small, intimate ceremony, but he knows so many people it becomes a whole big thing.

O | On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When Thorn is around his S/O, it is very obvious, despite all his best efforts to pretend otherwise. He can't help but be enamored by them, engaged in everything they say, somehow always close by no matter what's going on. When they're apart, then it's a lot easier for him to play it cool and act like a good solider who is definitely not breaking any rules, no sir.

P | PDA - Ae they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Gregor isn't shy with the fluffy stuff. Hand holding, pecks on the cheek, casual snuggles or foot rubs. If he's been away from them for a while, he'll also just go in for that long-awaited smooch, regardless who else may be around. The more suggestive/spicier stuff he'll save for more private locations... unless he's maybe had a bit too much to drink, then he finds it funny to tease in public.

Send a fluff alphabet request and help me get back into the swing of writing!

[rapsgoddess]

Washing Machine Heart Part 1. (Erik Killmonger x OC)

This is unedited so please have mercy on me in the notes 😭

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a thing to him. Next to being a mercenary, Erik was a player. He came and went as he pleased, spent his nights with more than one woman, and didn’t feel a single shred of regret whenever his girls would pour out their hearts to him. 

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a single thing to him, yet she still somehow fell in love. 

It was a painful realization. One that she came to during one of Erik’s many long term absences. It was another sleepless night for her and she was sitting in bed with her laptop open to her right and her keyboard directly in front of her. For the past week, the same melody had been on loop inside her head. A broken tune that conveyed so much sorrow that it nearly brought her to tears whenever she hummed it. Each day after she got home from work, she would add onto the melody bit by bit, putting in different instruments and sounds to create a beautiful symphony. 

When it came time to write lyrics for the song, all she could envision was a tune about unrequited love. The same unrequited love that she had been feeling for a while. 

It wasn’t until she put a name to that feeling when she finally realized how she truly felt about Erik. 

She decided to try and keep things suppressed for a while, hoping that her childish feelings of romance would disappear after a few days. 

They didn’t. 

When Erik returned a few weeks later, she didn’t, know how to act. The man made it known that he was not committed to anybody, and Nahla was no exception. On the rare occasion Nahla would catch a glimpse of him on social media, she would see him surrounded by women who looked as if they could be models. Women who were leagues ahead of her. The photos never failed to resurrect her insecurities. They made her question why Erik even bothered to give her the time of day. Yet those insecurities melted away whenever he came to visit her. 

Flash forward to the present, and Nahla found herself laying next to Erik’s naked frame in her bed. The faint sound of her washing machine echoed throughout the house, giving a sort of rhythmic banging as her shoes tussled around inside. The night was still fairly young, having only been a few minutes past seven, but all of the plans that Nahla had for that evening were discarded the moment Erik showed up on her doorstep. 

It didn’t take much for his words to lull her into bed and for his lips on hers to enrapture her. His low, smooth voice was like music to her ears, and her moans being music to his. Each praise that left his lips was like a toxic lullaby. Nahla knew that he had repeated the same words to dozens of women in the past, yet in the moment, they made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. 

“You feel so good around me baby…”

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy.”

“Say my name so everybody know who’s fuckin’ you right.” 

Thinking back to his words sent shivers down her spine. She was wide awake, restless and too excited to fall asleep. It was rare for Erik to stay after having sex, let alone fall asleep before her, but her inner turmoil prevented her from falling asleep. 

She turned back to look over at Erik, taking in every aspect of his being as if it were the last time she would see him again. No matter how many times she laid eyes on him, she would never be able to find the words to describe how beautiful he was. He had a smile that could light up a room and warm eyes that made her heart flutter each time she looked into them. It often left her wondering why exactly he even entertained the thought of her when he was way out of her league. 

A heavy sigh left Nahla’s lips and she threw the covers off the lower half of her body. She looked back at Erik one last time while putting on her robe, making sure that he stayed asleep. Slowly and quietly, she crept out of the room and down the hall to her makeshift studio, closing the door behind her and turning on the lights. She used her studio as an escape from both the real world and her own mind, and right then she needed an escape from both. Turning on her equipment and opening up her laptop, she opened up the file that held her latest project. The one that helped her come to her realization in the first place. She made sure the speakers were low as to not wake Erik up and pressed play, listening to her voice blend with the gentle melody. 

She had only written a few lines so far and could feel the next verse just on the tip of her tongue, but lyricism had never really been her strong suit. Muttering random words under her breath, she opened up the notes section on GarageBand and began writing down whatever sounded nice, replacing and adding words where she deemed fit. 

“Might as well give it a go,” she sighed, getting up from her chair and walking over to the small corner where her mic and the rest of her recording equipment was set up. She pressed record on an empty track and began singing the second verse, her voice coming out soft and almost broken in contrast to her usual strong, belty tone. She was tired, both physically and emotionally, but she couldn’t walk back to that room. Not with him still laying asleep in her bed as if the two of them were a couple. 

After a few more takes, she had finally gotten her voice warmed up enough to where it didn’t sound completely like shit and she walked over to her work station to edit the track on top the music. 

With her mind now completely engulfed in her music, she didn’t noticed the sound of her toilet flushing or her bathroom sink running down the hall. She didn’t notice the sound of footsteps leading to her studio and her door opening slightly. 

It wasn’t until the feeling of a hand snaking its way around her neck drew her from her work as she jumped in her seat while clutching her chest in panic.

“Whatchu scared for? It’s just me,” Erik muttered, his voice still laced with drowsiness. “What are you doing up? Any other day you’d be knocked out.” His fingers gently squeezed at her neck and he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. It was weirdly intimate of him.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to work on something.” Nahla spun her seat around to face him. He had on a pair of low hanging shorts. She recognized them as being one of the pairs she bought for him whenever he decided to stay over. She mentally scoffed at the thought; buying clothes for a man who she wasn’t even in a relationship with. 

“You’re not leaving?” She asked. It had just dawned on her that, miraculously, Erik was still there. 

“Nah. I haven’t seen you in a while so I figured I’d stay for a little bit.” 

The sentiment made her heart flutter but she quickly grounded herself back to reality. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up. 

“So, what are you working on?” He asked, his arms folded across his chest as he looked past her and at the open editing software on her computer. 

“Oh. Well I had a melody that was stuck in my head for a while so I put it down and write lyrics. I lowkey wanna find a mini orchestra to record it though.” 

“Well can I hear it?” He suggested. 

Nahla’s eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. Despite knowing each other for the better part of two years now, this was the most he had ever expressed genuine interest in her music. 

“U-Uhh, I’m not sure… I get really sensitive about my stuff. Plus it’s not what you’d expect it to be,” she said, swirling her chair back around to face her work station as she hesitantly placed her hand on the mouse  and moved the cursor over the “play” button. After taking a deep breath, she played the song and closed her eyes as she waited for it to be over. Throughout the entirety of what little she had to play, Erik was silent, giving no response, comment, or critiques. When it was over, she reluctantly turned around to face him. 

“So? What do you think?”

“Yeah, I can definitely hear an orchestra going behind that. Maybe start off with piano first, then bring in strings or some shit during the hook,” he suggested, walking over to the other chair in the corner of her studio and sitting down. 

“Okay. Thanks.”

For about an hour or two, the two of them stayed up in her studio talking about random things while sharing a blunt together. They eventually migrated back to the bedroom and made their way beneath the covers together, Nahla’s body molding perfectly into Erik’s as they cuddled. 

“Nah, I’m deadass. I thought I had locked his cage, but he always finds a way to get out,” Nahla giggled, referring to her pet chameleon who always managed to get out of his cage. “I remember a few day ago I had just woken up and went into the kitchen to get some juice and I see him inside the sink just sitting there. Then he have the nerve to look up at me like ‘what are you doing here?’ No sir, what are you doing here.” 

Erik laughed softly while shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think I could handle an animal just freely roaming my shit like that.”

“You get used to it after a while. I was low-key thinking about getting a snake too, but I gotta figure out where to put the tank.”

“Oh hell nah. If you get a snake, I’m not coming by anymore.”

“What?! You used to be a whole Navy Seal and you’re scared of snakes, E?” She asked, a bit surprised that he even shared that information with her. 

“Girl, I don’t know how you can even stand them things,” he mumbled, “slithering around and shit. What if it gets out when you’re sleep and starts choking you?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she giggled, earning an eye roll from Erik. 

Though it didn’t seem possible, she pressed herself against Erik even harder, somehow managing to get even closer to him. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she had a perfect view of the many scars and keloids that littered his body. She could tell some of them are new. Whether or not they were accidental or self inflicted, she didn’t want to know. 

It was times like these where Nahla wished that her outlandish fantasies of romance weren’t fantasies at all. Having never been in a real relationship before, she constantly longed to be loved by someone in a romantic sense. Though she knew that Erik probably never thought of her as more than a fuck buddy, it was nice to feel his warmth underneath her. Even if it was an illusion, it was nice to imagine him as her lover while he was holding her close. 

“What’s on your mind?” He pried, letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles. 

“Where do you go when you disappear?” She partially lied. Even though that wasn’t what truly was on her mind, it was still a question that lingered over her head for a while. 

“That, I can’t tell you ma. At least not right now.” 

She wasn’t satisfied with how curt his reply was. Sitting up, she supported her head with her hand, her elbow buried into the pillow beside his head as she peered down at him. 

“You can tell me,” she pried. A childish grin spread across her face. “If it’s something illegal I promise I won’t tell.”

Erik peaked one up up at her, a smile of his own taking over his featured. He pushed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Mm… Maybe I could tell you a little bit. I don’t even know where to begin though without you thinkin’ I’m crazy.”

“I won’t think you’re crazy.”

“You say that now.” There was a pregnant pause, and then, in the most serious tone ever, he said, “I’m apart of African royalty.”

“So there’s this country in Africa called Wakanda. At first glance, it seems like a small lil third world country, but in reality, they’re the most advanced civilization on the planet. They got this metal called Vibranium that allows them to all sorts of things, but they keep it hidden from the rest of the world.”

“How? And if they kept it hidden from the world, then how do you know about it?”

“They have a dome that surrounds the entire country. It’s practically impenetrable. And the only reason I know is because my father was the prince. He was sent here on an undercover mission in America but quickly saw how shitty thing were here, so he wanted to change it. “

“Wait, your father is the prince of an African country?” Nahla couldn’t believe her ears. Despite being secretive and mysterious, she knew that Erik wasn’t one to lie. After all, what could he possibly gain from lying about something as far fetched as this?  

“Was. He was killed before he could enact any change; by his own brother no less.”

She could hear a pain and vulnerability in his voice that she’d never heard before. Now she definitely knew that he wasn’t lying. 

Erik’s face had turned to the side in a fruitless attempt to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. He’d never brought up his family or much of his life before he met her in a conversation, and now she could see why. 

Hesitantly, Nahla reached up to wipe away the tears that left his eyes. “So you plan on going back and getting revenge?” She pondered. It would make sense why he’d want to stay under the radar,  having no social media accounts, no permanent phone number, and constantly disappearing for months at a time. If he wanted to infiltrate an entire hidden country, then he’d have to be the closest thing to a ghost a person could be. 

“It’s on the list,” he replied, sitting up in bed while resting back against the headboard. “But, my main goal is to change the world. Wakanda has technology and weapons that people can’t even begin fathom. If our people were able to get their hands on that kind of fire power, we wouldn’t have to worry about the White man oppressing us any longer.” 

The sadness that was once present in his eyes had long disappeared, instead being replaced with a burning passion. It filled her with joy to see him get passionate about something, but it also put her on edge. Nahla knew what his plan implied, and she didn’t put it past him to sacrifice countless lives in order to see his vision come to life.

Staying silent, she simply nodded, too afraid that she’d say the wrong thing if she opened her mouth. Tearing her gaze away from the man, she began contemplating on everything she had been thinking about prior to his arrival. Her feelings for him were still unwavering, but now she was starting to ponder on whether or not being with him was a wise decision. It didn’t take being a genius to know that Erik’s path was a set one. He was a determined, goal-driven man, and when his mind was made up, there was no convincing him to go back on his decision. 

If she followed him down that path, she wouldn’t be able to turn back. 

“Do I scare you?” 

Nahla looked back up only to be met with obsidian eyes boring straight into her deep brown ones. His question threw her for a loop, no doubt, considering how Erik was never one to be considerate of other people’s feelings. 

“H-Huh? What do you mean?” She knew exactly what he meant. 

“That look in your eyes… You’re scared of something. What is it?” He demanded in an eerily calm manner. 

Attempting to spare his feelings would be a futile decision; Erik read people like his favorite novel. Yet, for some reason, Nahla had no control over the words that left her mouth. 

She almost never did when she was around him. 

“Nothing. I just get a bit spooked in the dark,” she chuckled. 

Erik simply blinked at her, a look of uncertainty and doubt dancing around in his eye before he shrugged it off and laid back down in the bed, facing her completely. 

“You should get some rest. Goodnight,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her. 

Upon hearing his words, Nahla felt an immense tiredness wash over her as if he casted a sleeping spell over her. She glanced over at the clock and noticed how it was nearly 4 AM. She had only three hours before she needed to get up and get ready for work. 

She was tired, but fear kept plaguing her mind. A fear that he wouldn’t be there when she woke up. Or, even worse, a fear that she had dreamt the entire night. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered. 

Nahla wanted to believe him, so she did, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

[voiceless-terror]

my magnus finale and season five thoughts under the cut!

I’ll preface this by saying there were a lot of things I loved about this finale, and none of this is intended to start a debate or fight! It’s simply my feelings about what happened, and everyone’s entitled to their own (and entitled to love/hate what happened!). I totally respect how much others adored this and the wonderful art that’s coming of it. These are, again, just my own thoughts.

I really loved the first half of this. After Jon’s compliance in the last episode (that I found a bit troubling), I was really glad to see that he made the decision to confront Jonah himself and stuck by the idea of not dooming the other worlds. For one, I think it would have been narratively unsatisfying to have Martin be the one to kill Jonah- because let’s face it, while all the assistants have good reason to, this was really Jon’s confrontation to have. And I loved it! The conversation, Jonah begging not to die, and Jon saying - for Sasha, for Tim, hell, even for Gertrude. He never forgets Jonah’s victims or his own friends, and that’s such a core part of his character. 

And I loved the statement. I was hoping we’d get one last one, and this one knocked it out of the park for me. Pupil!Jon is top hot Jon moments, and no I will not be taking questions on this. The soundscaping in this entire episode was brilliant.

I’ll start off by saying I understand narratively why the second half happened. It does make sense to me - that Jon’s final wishes end up being undercut by his love for Martin, and the last moments for me are desperately romantic and sad and lovely and I’m glad that they happened- it leaves so much room for us as an audience to decide what we think happened, and how to go from there. It’s a real gift to creators and though I for one will probably not be able to touch the finale for awhile, writing-wise, I am already itching to write some of my other projects!

But it happened so quickly for me. The pacing and change of heart is so about-face, mostly because of the situation- everything’s crumbling, we don’t really have time for much, if any dialogue. But Jon’s abrupt switch in plans when he was so committed to not dooming the multi-verse, the quick conversation of ‘oh we didn’t trust you so we already started going ahead with it,’ the whole thing was a bit rushed for me, and I think the pacing of this last arc has left a lot to be desired, personally. Again, I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense in its own way, I just don’t think the pacing of this season was the best that it could’ve been. 

What also has been bothering me this season is Jon and Martin’s relationship (again, this is a personal take, it’s not something I expect everyone to agree with, at all). Martin’s not a character who was an initial fave for me at all, but I grew to love and appreciate him so that by the end of season four, I was really invested in Jon and Martin’s relationship and arc! It felt real and organic to me, and it was something to fight for. This stays mostly true for the first part of the season.

But then it gets a bit murky for me. We get the constant schtick of Martin going ‘a statement? Again?’ and this almost constant uncomfortable tension between him and Jon that never sat right with me. He wants Jon to not push any decisions on him, he doesn’t want to hear any statements, he wants his boundaries respected, but he doesn’t really do the same in regards to Jon. While I know the stress of the apocalypse is definitely a factor, it didn’t seem very ‘Martin’ to me, or at least the Martin that’s grown and changed since the first season. There’s a difference between going from being a wallflower to being assertive, and maybe because he’s never had a chance to really be confident and self assured, he doesn’t know how to do it in a way that isn’t a little hurtful. And while these can be normal and realistic parts of a relationship that are in some cases addressed, it’s realistic for me in a way that I don’t feel comfortable with. The way Martin is the one who pushes the ‘kill bill’ arc, especially in the Simon episode where he pretty much commands Jon to kill Simon, and his non-apology at the end of that episode (and the eventual fight where he accuses Jon of being the one to ‘enjoy it too much’). The time at Upton house that for me, is just uncomfortable knowing that Jon is actively dying and by the end, Martin doesn’t seem to realize it until he’s told (and then, when Jon says ‘was I wrong to hold off?’ Martin says no, that he enjoyed the time, and I just don’t think that Martin would ever condone that sort of self-sacrificial shit from Jon, as we see later on in the season!!). And then the fight, where Martin says some pretty awful and untrue things, and runs off with Annabelle- these are all things that could be forgiven, and are! But the apologies from Martin have all been lackluster with a tinge of ‘well I was right, wasn’t I?’ and the narrative doesn’t dispute that, and in fact seems to want us to side with some of his more (in my opinion) impulsive and not very great decisions. Jon very rarely fights back against him, and the times he has, its almost framed as if what he says/his transgressions are worse. I think if Jon acted in the way Martin did for some of this season, fandom would riot. But it's Martin, so he seems to get a free pass to act this way and have it be framed in a much better light. This is again, my own opinion about the text, I’m not saying anyone that disagrees with me is wrong. It’s just how it came off to me, and as someone who has been in relationships with similar sort of issues (on a very non apocalyptic scale, of course) it didn’t sit right with me.

So in the end, Jon goes off to confront Jonah on his own, which some are calling stupid or impulsive. But it’s not to me- this is Jon’s moral compass, and he’s sticking by it. For him to go along with the plan would be wildly out of character, and I’m glad he did this. The way it ended was ultimately satisfying to me, and leaves room for a lot of interpretation. But the way it got there wasn’t really what I wanted. And I say this as someone who really does enjoy jonmartin, and will continue to do so! I hope in a thousand fix it fics they get to talk and go to therapy and work on these issues on their own. But the way Jon and Martin’s relationship was presented over this season wasn’t comfortable for me, the trust issues and lack of communication was never resolved and I’m sort of disappointed with that overall. 

I’m glad we got the ending we did, and I’m going to continue to love these guys for a good while yet. This is, again, not intended to start a debate, I don’t want to fight or engage with anyone like that because I really do respect everyone’s opinions on this season and final arc, and these are just my own thoughts. You are well within your rights to disagree with me on these things! But I just thought I’d share my own feelings about this last season. I’ve loved these characters for a really long time, and I’ve been listening since the end of 2017 so I have a lot of thoughts to sit with right now. But I’ll still definitely be writing and in this fandom for the long haul...especially if I want to reconcile the things I didn’t particularly vibe with xD

Hnnn back to my regularly scheduled posting, sorry for the long rambling thoughts.

[kikis-writing-world]

Bug in the System

Summary: Reader has a complicated relationship with Nathan, living and working with him. They’ve always been nervous to bring up prescription medication, so shit hits the fan when they runs out and their mood plummets.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader that struggles with mental health.

Word Count: 2k

Rating/Warnings: Mental health - depression and anxiety are expressly mentioned and reader is in a bad low. Talk of medication and ramifications of not taking them. Mention of doctors. Brief mention of sex. Worries of the stigma around mental health. Lots of swearing because it’s Nathan. Unedited/Betaed. it’s almost fluff in Nathan’s asshole way, there’s a happy ending.

A/N: I blame @foxilayde​ that I’m suddenly writing for Nathan... I hated him when I watched the movie and now here we are. Idk, this idea hit me last night while trying to fall asleep and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to write it.

You weren’t sure how to define the relationship you and Nathan had. He wasn’t your boyfriend - not only did that feel so juvenile, but also… he just wasn’t. There had never been a declaration of love between the two of you, no commitment to monogamy or even non-monogamy. The two of you lived together, worked together, slept together- it could almost be called a friends with benefits relationship, only… softer. You ate dinners together, danced around the house together, and cuddled together when watching movies. You also spent days, sometimes weeks at a time where you hardly spoke to each other when engrossed in a project. Did this form out of attraction, or emotion, or was it an inevitability when two adults - whose sexualities, attractions and availabilities lined up accordingly - lived together in isolation for an extended period of time? 

In summary: there was no easy way to define what was between the two of you, and you were happy there were no other humans around to ask. You didn’t feel the need to defend what you shared, but you had no desire to try to label it either.

Despite the friendly and casual nature of whatever the relationship was, there were still things that you had yet to admit to Nathan. The dwindling supply of medications tucked safely in a make-up bag inside the drawer of your bedside table felt like a ticking time bomb. You only had so many doses remaining and it wasn’t like you could walk down to the local pharmacy for a refill. Any supplies coming to the fortress of a home had to be called in, ordered, and helicoptered to you. There was no way to do it without Nathan finding out along the way.

You watched the pills slowly empty from their plastic bottles like a reverse hourglass. Despite the effects they had on your malfunctioning brain chemistry, they never quite tampered down the anxiety you had about opening up about your mental illness, let alone to someone like Nathan.

Nathan worked hard and played harder. He strove to be the best him he could be at all times. He accepted nothing less than perfection and no matter what the relationship between you two could be defined as -coworkers, employer/employee, friends, friends with benefits, lovers -  you didn’t want to disappoint him.

You avoided and avoided until inevitably, the last pill came out of the last bottle. It only got worse from there. Without the anxieties in check and the chemicals being balanced, the insecurity flared even worse. Your inner voice told you that you deserved the unhappiness flowing through you, that you should just stay in bed and give up since Nathan would kick you out of the house soon enough: he’d either get tired of your low mood, your falling productivity, or he’d discover your secret and be done with you.

He noticed. Of course he did. You stopped dancing, stopped cuddling, stopped fucking. Then you stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped leaving your room. You felt like you couldn’t get out of bed at all. You spent your time sleeping or curled up under your blankets in the dark room wishing you could sleep more. That or just disappear.

That was where Nathan found you, a month and a half after you’d run out of your meds.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He barged into your room one morning… afternoon… you had no idea what time it was.

Nathan turned the light on and you could hear him pacing. “Are you sick? Do I need to call in a doctor? Are you even alive under there?! Hello?!”

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up and prove you were alive, awake, and hearing him. The blankets dropped to your waist, revealing what you were sure was an absolute mess of a human. You knew what you looked like the last time you’d been brave enough to look in the mirror and you were sure it was even worse now.

Nathan cursed and you swear he nearly recoiled at the sight of you. “Are you in here dying on me or something?” He questioned. 

You weren’t sure how to answer, what you could possibly say to him.

“Hello?!” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Is anybody in there?!”

You blinked as he crowded you, hysterics growing as you seemingly ignored him. You could tell he was close to grabbing you and shaking you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle that. As it was, your muscles had protested sitting up. Instead, you leaned over and opened your drawer, taking out the zippered make-up bag.

You tossed the pouch at him, hearing all the plastic bottles click together as it landed at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, opening it carefully like he thought some sort of creature might jump out at him. His brows furrowed when he saw the bottles inside and dumped them out onto the mattress.

“Are these all empty? Fuck did you take these?” He questioned, panic rising in his voice. “Are you trying to OD on me or something? Shit.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to call for help.

“No.” You croaked. “Well, yeah. I took them… but… they’re my meds.” You gave in. “I’ve been taking them since I got here. I[was taking until they ran out.”

Nathan looked down at the bottles, picking one up as he read the label. “What are they for?”

“Depression mostly. Anxiety.” You shrugged, listing the simple ones.

Nathan was quiet as he read the bottles. You had no idea if he knew what any of them meant. It’s not like the labels read “Take one daily to stop the crazies!” The names, the dosages, the frequencies meant nothing to someone with no experience… but then again, Nathan wasn’t just anyone.

“How long?” He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

You would have deflated if you didn’t already feel as low as you could go. Having assumed the worst, you weren’t surprised he couldn’t look at you.

“I was diagnosed in junior year-”

“No, I mean how long have you been without your meds?” He interrupted you, turning to stare  you down.

“A month.” You shrugged. “Almost two.”

“For fucks sakes.” He grumbled, turning to his phone again and typing away.

“I’ll pack my shit. Just, give me a few days and I’ll go.” You mumbled, laying down on your side and facing away from him. You didn’t want to watch him posting for a new assistant or scheduling the pick-up or whatever he was doing. You’d wallow for a bit, probably take a nap, and then you’d pack anything here that was important. Fuck the rest. You didn’t have the energy. You didn’t care.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He asked distractedly, like he hadn’t heard you as his cogs of his brain jumped to life. He did that a lot when he was preoccupied. He would hear your voice, realize you’re talking, but not absorb the words. Sometimes he needed to ask 3 or 4 times until you gave up and texted him instead.

“I’m bringing in a doctor. You need to get checked out before you start back up on anything. You’re not supposed to go off of these without supervision. Says so right here. Black and white.” He chastised you.

You frowned, looking over your shoulder in confusion. You saw him still typing away on his phone, holding one of the empty, orange-tinted bottles in his hand. He set it down, picking up another. He took a picture, looking over the label quickly for himself before setting it back down.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending him the labels so he knows what he’s walking into. Why the fuck would you just stop taking your meds?” He sniped. “Why didn’t you get more? I fucking ask you if you need shit and you just conveniently forget your pills?”

You picked at a thread of the blanket, not wanting to watch him as he grew angrier with you. As soon as you were in good health and his conscience was clear, he’d be rid of you. You were sure of it. It was more than you’d expected to be honest.

You heard the quiet noise from his phone, indicating the email had been sent. That meant his attention wasn’t divided as he rounded back on you.

“Why won’t you answer me? It’s like fucking talking to a wall or something. If I wanted one-sided conversations, I never would have brought you up here. Why didn’t you get more?!”

You took a shuddering breath before answering. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what? That you take medication?” He scoffed in disbelief.

The room was quiet as you didn’t answer, but you could practically hear his brain processing, whirring like a computer with a squeaky exhaust fan.

“Hey, look at me.” He ordered, his voice dropping in volume to a kinder tone, but it was still not a request. It was a demand. You sat up again, looking at him stare at you with dark, angry eyes.

“When a program isn’t working, do you throw away the whole CPU or do you debug it and fucking find the fix?” He asked. You didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical.

“Your software is fucked, and these,” he picked up one of the bottles to hold up between you two. “These are the fix. Why the fuck would you be embarassed about shit like that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze again. “You’re…” you struggled to find the words, but Nathan jumped on your train of thought frighteningly quick.

“Me?! So it’s my fault? I eat brown rice and salad and work out every day so I’m some health nut hippy who wouldn’t understand, is that it?”

He was putting words into your mouth, but he was essentially getting the point. You were scared he would reject you, mock you, think less of you.

He crawled towards you on the bed, cupping your chin a little too tight as he lifted your face. He was clearly done having you look away from him. “I’m a fucking reclusive genius who lives in the middle of ass fuck nature and only lets people come and go with a goddamn keycard! Do you not think I’m self-aware enough to realize that? A fucking prodigy, multi-millionaire by 15, CEO of the most successful technology company in history. The President calls me and I hit ignore. Do you really think I’m not self-aware enough to know we all have our own brand of fucked up?” He laughed.

“If you need these to get through it, to be my little genius-” He released your jaw to cup your face in both hands, giving it a shake. “To keep up with my shit, to live here without losing your mind at the isolation, to be my dance partner and dinner partner and movie date - then fucking take them. Would I be having to tell you this if it was for your blood pressure or a heart condition or something?!”

His phone buzzed and he released his hold on you, leaning back to read the message that had just come through.

“Doc’s gonna be here tomorrow morning. Gotta keep you hydrated until then and you should try to eat.” He summed up the message as his eyes skimmed the screen. He tucked his phone back into his pocket before slapping your blanket-covered thigh. “What are we eating tonight? Your choice.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

“Not an option!” He declined as he stood off the bed. “What are we eating?”

You sighed, letting your head fall back as you thought. “Grilled cheese?”

“And tomato soup? Coming right up.” He leaned over to you, cupping the back of your head as he pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. I’ll bring it in when it’s ready.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @dinthisisthe-wayson @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata​ 

[babieateez]

after literal months of trying to write this, here it is!! i completely trashed it after a few attempts and rewrote it in the span of two hours after probably too much coffee but i hope everyone enjoys it nonetheless !!

you didn’t know jung wooyoung very well but you also felt like things were better off that way since he was the type of guy to hang out with the wrong crowd

y’know, the ones who probably smoke cigarettes on campus and cut classes to get drunk at whatever party was happening on campus that day

you could be almost positive that jung wooyoung would rather stick his hand in hot oil than be acquainted with you, since pretty much every time you accidentally made eye contact with him in your shared class, he looked just about like he was ready to commit murder

the first time it happened, you hadn’t even realized you were looking at him, not until you felt someone’s red hot stare on your face

and the second, third and fourth time have also all been less than purposeful, getting called by the professor to hand back certain papers, dropping your pencil too close to him, quickly glancing around the room to see if anyone had caught you tripping over your own shoelaces and seeing the cold eyes of wooyoung staring back at you, every single time has been returned with a sneer crossing his face and a dangerous look in his eyes

it’s not like you wanted to be looking at him, you had much better things to be doing, like your classwork or writing in your notebook, but it’s like you were fated to annoy wooyoung

it was like a curse, you couldn’t escape that guy, especially not when your professor told the class about how the project that he was originally planning to be done alone was to now be completed in partners (randomly assigned!!)

lord knows you had just the worst luck, so of course you got paired up with jung fucking wooyoung of course you had!

you’re sure that as soon as he heard your name in conjunction with his, he was ready to drop the class entirely but you were more than willing to do all the work by yourself if it meant not having to deal with him

you told him as much as soon as class was over which obviously didn’t go over so well seeing as wooyoung just narrowed his eyes at you and told you that he didn’t trust you to not fuck things up, adding that he was going to be in the library later in the day to get started

you almost snapped back at him that you were surprised that he even knew where the library was, but you held your tongue out of fear for your own safety and well-being

so later that day, you walked yourself to the library despite every bone in your body protesting spending extra time with the man who all but hated you

you refused to let him do the work alone because you weren’t overly confident in his mental facilities and dedication to getting at least passing grades

and after about five minutes of walking through the library, you spotted wooyoung sitting at a table with a book pulled out, along with a snack which you were pretty sure were prohibited in this area

but as long as it didn’t get you in trouble, you didn’t want to waste your time arguing with him over the rules

as he looked up from the snack he was examining for whatever reason, he spotted you, a sour look crossing his face as he leaned back in his chair

as you approached and pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table, he made some remark about how he didn’t actually expect you to show and that he’s disappointed that he has to spend extra time with you

to which you can’t help but retort by saying you figured he might need help actually figuring out how to read the books on the subject but you leave it at that, opting to ignore whatever comes out of his loud mouth next in favor of pulling out your laptop to actually start working on the project

the table becoming silent other than the sounds of munching whenever wooyoung took a bite of his snack and after a few hours of research and tense comparing of ideas, you call it a day and head home to ponder how you and wooyoung didn’t tear each other apart from limb to limb

these quiet library sessions filled with very little talking and a lot of awkwardness in the air continue for a few weeks, each time you meet up getting less scary and annoying, and in turn becoming more relaxed and productive

the insults haven’t stopped being slung from either side, but now it’s less of actual hatred and closer to frenemy-esque banter which surprises you almost as much as when you forgot to eat lunch before going to the library

your stomach letting out a loud grumble in front of your project partner, and him glaring at you with an accusatory look, only to reach into his bag and grab out one of the snacks he always seems to be carrying around

you weren’t sure how to respond to this so you spluttered out a “no thank you, why do you think i want your shit anyway” only for wooyoung to shove it onto your side of the table anyway

telling you that it was probably stale from sitting at the bottom of his bag for weeks anyway but when you open it and take a bite of one of the crackers, it’s not even close to stale, it’s not even crushed up like most old snacks would be

this unexpected act of kindness (could it even be classified as that when wooyoung was probably just annoyed by your stomach making noise???) shut you up for the rest of the day, and even some of the next time you saw him

until you realized it would be the last day you’d have to work with him for the project, seeing as it was due the next day in class and leaving the table that day felt almost bittersweet

you didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you had so much wooyoung-free time, but it was nice knowing that you didn’t have to worry about annoying him any more

that is, until you show up to the library the next week, near the same time you and wooyoung usually met up to work, since you weren’t sure what else to do during that time, only to find wooyoung sitting at the same table you usually worked together at

you were shocked of course, but he looked even more shocked when he saw you approaching, asking you what you were doing here, if you knew that the project was over or if your tiny brain couldn’t remember that, the same banter you’d usually encounter while working

you let him know that you just didn’t know what else to do with the free time, now that you don’t have any big projects to work on so you figured you’d just chill here anyway

and nothing much really happens, it’s a mix between you feeling awkward and trying to act natural until you realize that you have to leave

when you meet up with your friends after for a little de-stressing hangout, they ask you if you’re still going on those dates with wooyoung and you can’t help but laugh- you???? attracted to jung wooyoung???????? the man who has only felt contempt towards you????????????? as if.

yet, despite it being a passing comment meaning no harm, you can’t help but ponder over it for far longer than someone who actually isn’t in some way attracted to wooyoung should

it practically takes over your life, thinking and overthinking every word you’ve said to him and every interaction you’ve shared with him, you could’ve sworn at the time that you hated him but maybe the flutter you got in your stomach before meeting him every week wasn’t so much out of fear as it was attraction

you stay in your dorm the next week in favor of going to the library, fearing that you’d become physically ill if you had to see wooyoung and confront your feelings and biases towards him, not even slightly suspecting that he’d find you in class the next day and ask if you were okay, since you weren’t at the library yesterday

offering you once more a snack from his bag which you accept weakly with a weak snide comment about not wanting his pity, him responding with a small smile that he was actually plotting to give you food poisoning but you could tell that he cared at least a little bit, a fact which got your heart racing and you brain trying to deny totally

the next week, you actually do show up to the library, not wanting to seem weak for skipping the unofficial hangout with wooyoung, only for you to lose yourself in the book you were reading

not realizing it had gotten dark until you looked out the window nearby, wanting to bang your head against the table since it’s never safe to walk alone in the dark, until wooyoung sees your plight and offers to walk you home

you feel like you’re about to combust but you shake your head quickly, saying you can call a friend to come pick you up, but wooyoung doesn’t seem to be listening to your protests, telling you that you’re too stubborn and to just let him walk yo back to the dorm

it would probably be less out of the way for him than your friend anyway

which is how you find yourself standing beside him, walking to your dorm in the dark

when you get to your door, you see the gears turning in his brain and can’t resist one final jab for the day, remarking that you’re surprised it’s not actually hollow in his noggin

and since jung wooyoung never fails to surprise you, he forgoes a response to instead start leaning toward you with a small smirk on his face

the heat in your face feels like it’s on turboblast, your heart is going three hundred miles per hour and you can’t think of anything logical to do other than to run inside your dorm, quickly shout out a thank you, and all but slam your door in his face

your roommate asks why you look so panicked and you respond with “i think my mortal enemy slash crush just tried to kiss me”

you have more than a few crises about it that night, even dreaming about the events of the day, only to show up to class the next day, seeing wooyoung look less energized than usual

this time you’re the one to approach him, asking if he’s okay and him sort of scoffing and asking why you would care anyway (at this point you know he’s hurt but you were nervous that the guy you thought you hated but ended up being attracted to was trying to kiss you okay you’re valid)

so you steel your nerves, check that the professor hasn’t walked into class yet, and quickly grab wooyoung by the front of his shirt and give him the quickest kiss you think may be humanly possible before rushing to your seat and burying your head in the textbook, leaving wooyoung standing there in shock as the professor waltzes in

if you think you can escape the clutches of wooyoung after class, you’re sorely mistaken, as soon as the professor dismisses you, he’s shooting out of his seat and grabbing your hand, basically dragging you into a quieter part of the building before asking if you meant it, you shooting him a silent, bashful nod, and him pulling you in for a much longer kiss than you gave him before

it’s like breathing after a lifetime of not knowing what oxygen was, but you pull back to ask him why he hated you and the words get caught in his throat

it’s like he’s choking on his pride when he tells you that the first time he saw you he was so enraptured by you, but how he also couldn’t help but be bitter that you’d never see him like that since you were so out of his league (in his mind- he was the “bad boy” after all)

he knew what sorts of rumors circulated about him around campus, skipping class to smoke and party, getting into fights

but the reality was just that he worked at a shop to be able to pay his tuition and sometimes the hours were in the middle of when he had to be in class or whatever

he even always let the professors know and they were always okay with it as long as his grades didn’t suffer

you were sitting there listening to him say all this with his arms still around you like :0

because wow you’d never guess it

but because you can’t help yourself, you remark that he was so much more sexy when you thought he was a real bad boy, to which he shuts you up by kissing you once more, a common theme you discover in the coming weeks of courtship

your meetings at the library migrating to small cafes and cute diners and movies at his apartment, all feelings of tension and hatred and remorse becoming almost a joke with you two, hardly being able to believe there was a time in which you weren’t so enamored with each other

the both of you hardly being able to go a single weekend without staying the night with each other, waking up in a pile of blankets and pillows and tangled in the warm embrace of the other, making breakfast (or brunch, since it’s sometimes hard to get out of bed) with each other

wooyoung often opting to hold you from behind rather than actually helping though you can’t exactly say you mind too much as long as he’s quietly making corny jokes in your ear or kissing you on the head

the best times, you think are the times where he, in his typical wooyoung fashion, surprises you by taking you out on dates

sometimes they’re fancy restaurants where you feel much too young and broke to be, playing footsies under the table and giggling at each other

other times he just takes you to the middle of a field of flowers where he unveils a picnic basket and cute quilted blanket (which he reveals to you that he made himself) and the two of you lay outside for hours, sometimes running around and playing goofy games, sometimes laying in each others’ embrace and basking in the silence that you now feel so comfortable in

sometimes he just pulls you into bed for a midday nap, sleeping next to each other like it’s where you were made to be

as if some higher being had made it so that the place you melded to was wooyoung’s side

as if he was the only place you were ever going to be complete, and you figured that’s how it was since wooyoung was your home, he was everything you ever needed and he was the only thing that made you feel such otherworldly love

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Fake dating au where demetris on his third strike with the school counselor so when they're about to fight again he holds his hand instead. Hawk cant help but blush and counselor Blatt jumps to conclusions and tries to be overly accepting

PFFFFT okay this is fuckin great

Like I’m just imagining Demetri doing the PETTIEST bullshit to get back at Hawk for that destroying-his-science-project business, like he writes “COBRA KAI SUCKS” all over his locker in sharpie in cleverly-disguised handwriting or pours soda on Hawk’s karate equipment and tough dude sportsballs (because come ON--Eli’s had the same locker combination for years, and just because he’s badass now doesn’t mean it would occur to him to change it) or steals his portable hair gel so that the ‘hawk will be sad and sagging by 6th period, and as soon as Hawk catches on to what’s going on, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out who’s behind all this chicanery. And he fuckin goes RIGHT up to Demetri during the next passing period (he knows exactly what part of the school that little nerd is in because he figured out and memorized Demetri’s class schedule SOLELY for harassment purposes and not because he likes him or anything) like “BRO YOU WANNA GO YOU WANNA FUCKIN GO” and Demetri gets ready to fight like “COME AT ME ASSHOLE” and Demetri’s getting ready to throw the world’s meanest punch to start the brawl (because his douchebag ex-best-friend ain’t the only one who can strike first) when the accursed Counselor Blatt rounds the corner.

She turns and fixes an icy glare right on them, and Demetri has to think fast. He unclenches his fist mid-punch and wraps a hand around Eli’s wrist. Eli’s hand flexes out in surprise, and before he can react, Demetri’s fingers have found their way up his wrist and laced with his own. Hawk’s face goes redder than his (already, sadly, beginning to sag) mohawk.

And fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hawk was absolutely not prepared for this. He absolutely was not prepared for the same goddamn helpless sensation of vertigo to hit as that time he held Demetri’s hand during Red Rover in the 6th grade (how in the hell did a couple of losers like them get invited to play, anyways? The teacher probably made the other kids include them or something). And Hawk fucking hates how warm and pleasant Demetri’s hand feels in his own, and how it fills him with the same hopeless longing that he hoped he could punch away into oblivion as soon as Kreese started training him.

But here comes that stupid-ass counselor, and something tells him that now is not the time to yank his hand away and slam Demetri into the lockers behind them, no matter how much he would like to.

“Demetri? Eli?” Counselor Blatt looks back and forth between the two of them, perplexed. “What’s this?”

“What’s what, Counselor Blatt?” Demetri pulls Hawk closer and swings his other arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders. Hawk can only bristle in barely-concealed rage.

“Did I just...see you about to punch Eli?” she continues. “When you’ve been to our seminar on respectful alternatives to physical aggression?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand!” Demetri laughs, and Hawk wants to smack him. God, his laugh is annoying. He’s annoying. Hawk wants to scream into a wall and he’s not sure why.

“I was just in a hurry to hold my boyfriend’s hand,” he goes on gleefully. “I haven’t seen him all day! Is that okay with you, Counselor Blatt?” He gives the counselor a challenging stare, and Hawk almost feels sorry for the woman and how utterly lost she is.

“I thought you were upset with Mr. Moskowitz here for ruining your science project,” Counselor Blatt says slowly.

“Oh, that?” Demetri snorts. “We were just on a little break. I think that was my indication that good ol’ Eli wasn’t taking it too well. But we worked everything out, and it’s alllll good now!”

He gives the counselor his most winning grin, and Hawk just turns to gape at him. Out of all the absurd directions Demetri could’ve taken this thing, framing him throwing a soccer ball across the cafeteria to smash Demetri’s project as a couple’s fight was one Hawk had not seen coming.

But then again...that did kind of let him off the hook, didn’t it? If all of his messing with Demetri was nothing but silly relationship drama. After all, Counselor Blatt hadn’t lifted a finger when the utter spectacle that was Kyler and Sam LaRusso’s breakup had ravaged the school’s gossip chain.

“You know, you really should be more accepting of LGBT relationships,” Hawk says, making a point to pull out the kicked puppy expression. “It’s hurtful enough that my boyfriend and I get as many stares as we do from other students.”

“I...! Well! I mean!” Counselor Blatt splutters, looking everywhere but their eyes.��“I think it’s great you boys are able to...express yourselves so freely! I want this school to be an environment where students of all sexualities are able to be themselves. I’m so happy West Valley High is such a diverse place!” She smiles, brightly but still very confused.

“With all due respect, Counselor Blatt, we’re not just some token gay couple.” Hawk doesn’t let up on the puppy dog eyes. “We’re just two guys who love each other. That’s all. All we want is to be accepted for who we are.”

He feels Demetri stiffen beside him with surprise, but the grip on his hand and around his shoulder doesn’t loosen in the slightest.

Demetri’s really acting like he doesn’t want to let go. He’s really committing to this façade.

Makes sense. When they were in middle school, Demetri always tried to be the class clown--not that it ever worked. Eli would always cheer him up by insisting he had a natural talent for improv. The kid isn’t half bad at acting, he’ll admit.

“And...you are accepted!” Counselor Blatt reassures awkwardly. “I’m...sorry I misunderstood your relationship, boys. I should be better about checking my heterosexual privilege.”

“Not to worry!” Demetri says cheerily. “Anyone who works at being a good ally to the community is always appreciated!”

Hawk resists the urge to roll his eyes. What was this, a fucking gay Sesame Street episode?

“Sorry again, Demetri. Eli. Have a nice day.”

As soon as Counselor Blatt shuffles around the corner and out-of-sight, Hawk tears his hand away (as...reluctant as he admittedly is to do so. Feeling another hand curled around his made him feel calmer and safer than he had in months, no matter what utter pussy’s it was. Disgusting. Kreese would never train him again if he found out, that was for sure.). He shoves Demetri hard--not into the lockers, not in any way that’ll make a noise to be noticed, but enough to knock the wind out of that fucking runt.

“What the fuck was that?” Hawk snarls.

Demetri crosses his arms and glowers at him. “I just saved both of us from a month of detention. It was only so long before she figured out Cobra Kai’s the aggressor around here just as much as Miyagi-Do is.”

Hawk surges forward and tries to shove him again, but Demetri is ready this time and quickly blocks. “What the hell was your grand plan, anyways?” he scoffs. “Pick a fight with me in the middle of the school day?”

Demetri sighs, starting to back away. “Eli, Eli, Eli. I know you’ve got a good brain in there, buddy. Maybe start using it, if all the punches to the head haven’t messed it up too much.”

He taps his head a couple times before turning and disappearing into the throng of students around them. Hawk groans.

Mitch doesn’t make matters better as they walk away. “Dude, were you blushing?”

“Shut the fuck up, man! I was just fucking embarrassed!”

Bert sniggers. “I’ll say. Should I start planning the wedding?”

“Don’t make me fucking deck you! Look...he wanted to stay out of trouble, and I realized I could spin it to our advantage. So I did. We’re in the clear for now.”

“Yeah, only took a bit of...hand-to-hand combat,” Mitch snickers. “What’s next? Judo wrestling him in the janitor’s closet?” He and Bert break out in giggles, and Hawk shoots them both his most seething glare.

“If you mention any of this to Sensei Kreese, I will kill you,” Hawk growls.

“Fair enough,” Mitch says, shrugging. Bert nods in agreement.

Hawk reminds himself to wail especially hard on both of them during practice today.

[yandere-daydreams]

God please can I get anything with Rook hunting down his escaped darling? This man has a thing for chasing you down you cannot convince mo otherwise

I’ve been meaning to write a special headcanon/scenario post about Pomefiore to celebrate the release of Chapter Five, but,,, this’ll have to do, for now. I’m doing a disservice to the best dorm, but hopefully, some Rook content will delay by inevitable shame.

Title: The Hunt.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Strong Predator/Prey Themes, Implied Stalking, and Mentions of Death.

~

You really used to think Rook was just on the extravagant side.

That’s how it’d seemed when he first introduced himself, dropping to one knee and pressing his hand to his chest, declaring something loud enough and incoherent enough to draw the eye of every onlooker within earshot. Some of his actions were questionable, his gaze often leaning towards the unnerving side, but you’d never thought he was villainous, he hadn’t seemed to want to do harm. He meant mischief, as far as you could tell. He didn’t try to hide the way he watched the more particular members of the student body, but he never took anything beyond a picture. He never made a secret of his fondness for you, but his affection was a fleeting thing - he’d said as much himself a dozen different times. You figured Rook would move long as soon as something newer and shinier came along. You thought he was just having fun.

You supposed you weren’t wrong. He had been having fun. He was still having fun.

It just wasn’t fun for you, anymore.

“Mon cœur,” Rook called, the familiar term of endearment stretching into something twisted, something perverse as it echoed through the lifeless woods. The forest surrounding the Pomefiore dormitory was always dark, always daze-like, always horrid, but tonight, it felt especially misleading, as if the trees themselves were uprooting and rearranging to guide you in any direction but the one that’d lead you away from your hunter. That’s what he was now, really, your hunter. Rook had a way of making his prey feel like pets, of making you feel like a partner rather than another trophy for him to decapitate and mount on his wall, but all of those blissful lies and domestic fantasies had dissolved into thin air the moment you slipped out of your chains and threw yourself out of that elegant, stained-glass window of his. It’d been a stupid move, in hindsight, you were only doing damage to yourself and giving him a blood-trail to follow, but a lifetime of picking crystalline shards out of your skin would be less agonizing than another minute spent in his captivity. You just wished his footsteps hadn’t fallen in-tempo with yours so quickly.

“You really should come out, (Y/n).” His voice was calm, projected with the all the tranquil serenity of a man who already knew he’d won. It wasn’t close, it wasn’t deafening, but the fact that you could hear him at all was damning. It meant he’d be able to hear you, too, even if you had no plans to announce yourself so blatantly. “I know you love your games, and I do want to play with you, but staying up so late is bad for your skin, no? And you must be so tired, dear. If you put an end to this silly show of defiance now, I may even let you sleep in my bed, rather than the cage where you belong.”

You didn’t respond  - you wouldn’t have, even if you hadn’t been hiding. Pushing forward, you drove yourself to run faster, to escape both his cage and his bed. There was a clearing in your path, a spot where the leaf-canopy broke apart and the ground grew barren, harsh moonlight seeping in like an unwanted thought, but you skirted around it, following its borders until you found the spot where the foliage was at its thickest. You didn’t think as you forced yourself into the narrow space between branches and trunks and vines with so many thorns, you had to wonder if you’d die of blood loss before Rook got a chance to wring your neck himself, only pressing a hand over your mouth and doing your best to control your panting. You just had to stay put for a minute. You just had to give him time to move on. Then, you’d be able to circle back and beat on every door in Pomefiore until someone recognized you as the student who’d gone missing weeks ago. Then, you’d be safe.

Rook, on the other hand, had no reason to tuck himself away. He stepped into the large clearing without hesitation, letting out a long, labored sigh as he idly glanced towards his surroundings. He must’ve begun his chase as soon as he noticed you’d gotten out, his intricate wardrobe cut down to little more than a black shirt and an insulated, camouflage jacket, both doing leagues more to block out the biting cold than the simple button-down shirt you’d been given to wear. He hadn’t had time to choose a proper weapon, either. Rook preferred traditional bows, the kind without cogs or cables to alleviate the tension of the draw, but he was carrying a simplistic compound bow tonight, made for efficiency and speed rather than enjoyment. Made for maiming his target, rather than indulging them in their rebellion, an arrow already knocked and ready to be drawn back at the first hint of an opening. “Perhaps I should call you mon ange, instead, considering you’re so eager to fly away.” Another sigh, this one accompanied by a graceful turn on his heel and a smooth survey of the forest. His eyesight was good, but it couldn’t be that good. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, where the shadows were their deepest. “Wouldn’t it be easier to come out on your own? You know how much I hate having to drag you home.”

Liar. That dirty, filthy liar. He’d already dragged you away from Night Raven, he’d already dragged you away from your classmates and your family and your friends, and all because he was under some deluded, pathetic notion that he’d only be able to love you - truly love you - if he nailed you to the ground, first. His gaze wandered, he was the one who couldn’t be trusted to keep his promises. He’d just wanted to ensure you’d still be there, waiting for him with open arms, when he got back from all his many expeditions. He’d imprisoned you, and he’d delighted in it, reveled in the joy that came with a source of companionship he’d be able to bleed dry. He was only unamused now that you’d refused to let him cut you open.

You could feel your cheeks begin to flush in anger, your nails curling into your palms, but that did little to stop Rook from going on. Always going on, never stopping. You hadn’t realized how much you hated the sound of his voice until you’d been forced to listen. “I’ll admit, I’ve been busy, lately. Have I been neglecting you?” He laughed, the sound airy, non-commital. As if it suddenly didn’t matter if you came out, as if he suddenly didn’t care. “This is childish, is it not? I mean, I never thought you would stoop so low just to buy for my attention.”

It was so little, it was nothing, just a shift of your weight in the barest hint of a reaction, but dried leaves and twigs seemed to crack under your feet as if you’d thrown your biggest tantrum yet. You reacted immediately, scrambling to free yourself from your constrictive hiding place, but Rook was so fast, he was so ready. It was all you could do to catch a glimpse of his bow as he took aim, your efforts to escape from his line of fire turning out all-but futile. You pressed yourself against the nearest trunk, but in the end, he was the one who faltered, his arrow barely grazing your bicep, cutting through your sleeve but only leaving a thin, red line in your skin, the shallowest wound he’d ever inflicted. You allowed yourself to smile, you allowed yourself to laugh, but Rook didn’t move to fire again, only slinging his bow over his shoulder, slotting it into place as if he wouldn’t need to use it again. Not on you, anyway.

“You really should come out,” He said, one more time. “These kinds of things tend to get rather ugly when they’re not given the proper treatment.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but before you could gather up the confidence to ask, something sharp and frigid pounded through your injured arm, stretching from your fingertips to your shoulders, and out of reflex, you glanced towards the cut. A pale, lilac fluid was smeared across your skin, dripping from the small wound, the color so faint, you hadn’t noticed it before. The same shade of purple that coated his arrowhead, even after it’d buried itself in the ground.

Oh.

That made sense. For Rook, at least.

You hardly tried to resist it, your body buckling under its own weight, crumbling until you were little more than a mass of stained clothes and writhing limbs, every part of you contorted in agony so vivid and bright, the darkness seemed to dissolve, kept at a faithful distance by an unmoving wall of white-hot pain. It was relentless, it was ruthless, and it only got worse as Rook’s calloused hands took hold of your tense form, lifting you off the ground and pulling you against his chest, cradling you as gently and as tortuously as he could. His hum was liked a needle to your ears, the click of his tongue as fatal as a dagger to the back of your neck, but even then, you knew it wouldn’t kill you. No, no, that’d ruin Rook’s fun. That’d be too merciful for him. That’d be too kind.

And to think, you’d almost forgotten the flare your hunter was capable of.

[matthewtkachuk]

speak now - rafe cameron

it’s the day of your wedding and, even though it’s been two years, you can’t stop thinking about the one who got away. little do you know he’s also consumed with thoughts of you and he’s not ready to give up just yet

warnings: angst with a happy ending

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this is the fic i wrote for pen on imessage, everyone say thank you to @girlsru1eboysdroo1 for the fact that this isn’t totally depressing!! i emphasized her favorite lines just for fun, i always wanted to write a fic with this trope so here it is, enjoy!!

You had loved Rafe Cameron your whole life, and truth be told you probably always would. But, he wasn’t yours to want anymore and you weren’t his. In fact, you were silently freaking out in a small room of a church, thinking about the one who got away as your fiancé stood at the end of the aisle.

It wasn’t fair to Chris. Chris, who was so sweet, so kind. Who supported you through thick and thin. Who uprooted his whole life to follow you to the grad school of your dreams. Who held you and loved you and treated you right. Chris, who would probably do anything for you if you only asked.

That was the thing though, with Rafe you never had to ask. He had known you better than you had known yourself, could predict when you needed him and what exactly you needed. He could feel the shift in your energy after a bad day at school or work, and was always ready to cheer you up, whether it was shitty fast food and shittier reality television or his sometimes gentle touch.

Rafe had known you and loved you, all the parts of you. Not just the good that Chris so often praised you over, your kind heart and selfless attitude. But also, the parts of you that you felt you had to hide, your petty jealousy, your quick temper. He loved not only your beautiful parts, but every scar and every flaw too.

But Rafe had let you down, too. His own temper and irrationality got him into trouble on more than one occasion, and all you had wanted was for him to let go of old hurts. You understood his insecurity stemmed from years of never being good enough for his father, Ward Cameron was a son of a bitch who had ruined the self-esteem of the boy you loved. Ultimately it was a combination of both that spelled the end of your relationship. A screaming match where he had projected his own inner turmoil onto you, certain that you could never truly love someone like him. He had said things he couldn’t take back, and you had packed your bags that night, never to step foot in his apartment again.

So here you were, two years later, about to marry another man. You looked at yourself in the mirror, saw the fresh tears pooling, threatening to spill and ruin your expensive makeup. If anyone were to see you, they would probably assume they were happy tears, brought on by the overwhelming joy of linking yourself to Chris forever. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Your tears stemmed from the knowledge that going through with this truly meant the end of a future with Rafe. It was stupid, Rafe hadn’t contacted you in the years since your break up, and the only information you received on his wellbeing you got through his sister Sarah who you still thought of as a friend. Rafe didn’t know that you kept tabs on him, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Sarah told him about you, too. You briefly wondered what it would have felt like to receive the news of your engagement, if he ever saw the invitation hung on Sarah’s fridge. If he was sad, or jealous, or if he even cared.

For a moment, you thought about running, pulling a runaway bride, but Chris didn’t deserve that. His only flaw was that he wasn’t Rafe Cameron, and it wasn’t fair to resent him for that fact. Besides, your mother would throw a fit. She had been mad enough when you had arrived home, 21 and single and in need of a place to stay as you got back on your feet. You were pretty sure she might actually disown you if you left another ‘eligible bachelor’, especially this close to commitment. You would likely never hear the end of how you had ruined a perfectly good (and extravagantly expensive) wedding. Not only that, there was no guarantee the next guy you found would hold a candle to Rafe, and you were certain by his two year long radio silence, that Rafe was over you. So, you got up, smoothed down the crinkle in your off-white wedding dress, dabbed at your eyes with a tissue and grabbed your bouquet, resigned to going through with the wedding.

The truth is, when Rafe walked into Sarah’s apartment to pick her up for a lunch with Ward and Rose, she all but threw herself at Rafe to prevent him from seeing the invitation on the fridge. Her plan had been to meet him in the car, but Rafe had walked right in using his key. Suspicious of his little sister’s actions, he gently moved her aside and entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He paused, hand hovering near the water dispenser on the fridge as his eyes landed on the photo of you and Chris with “save the date” written in bold block letters. In his shock, the glass slipped from his grasp, shattering on the floor. The sound shook him from his thoughts, and he grimaced at the broken pieces of glass that lay at his feet alongside his shattered heart. He looked at Sarah with a look of pure devastation as she offered him a soft smile and quickly swept up the glass. Unfortunately, the pieces of his heart couldn’t be cleaned up so easily. “I’m sorry,” she had offered quietly and all he could do was shrug and say, “me too.”

The green eyed monster of jealousy lingered on his shoulder in the weeks that follow, causing him to lash out more and more. His coworkers avoided him, his friends wanted nothing to do with him, and the only people who he could stand to be around were his little sisters of all people. Despite Sarah keeping your engagement a secret, she had tried to save him from heartbreak, but it was always going to hurt no matter when or where he found out. Since finding out, thoughts of you consumed him, they always had. He had given you the space you had so desperately asked for that night you left, always thinking that you would come back to him, that the two of you would work it out and move on together. He never stopped thinking about you and wondering where you were and what you were doing. He’d heard you’d gone through a few relationships, and he wouldn’t lie about the way his heart would leap a little every time your relationships failed.

Now, it was serious. You’d found someone you’d deemed worthy enough to spend your life with. Rafe always thought that person was him, but he didn’t blame you for not thinking that, too. He had his issues, he was quick to anger, projected his insecurities on others, he’d struggled with addiction and alcoholism although he’d been clean for almost three years at the point. Rafe couldn’t help but admit he was jealous. Jealous of the nights he didn’t get to spend with you, jealous of the love you were giving some other guy that you had once reserved for him, jealous of the life you were going to spend with someone else. Above all else, he was jealous that you were happy without him. He thought you hung the moon, and he was once happy to live among the stars. He would still rearrange the entire night sky for you, but now you saw stars in another’s eyes.

As your wedding date approached, he only felt worse. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have been the one in the wedding invite picture, to have his name written in an elegant script alongside yours on a piece of thick cardstock paper inviting your family and friends to celebrate your love. The daydream overtook his brain. Thoughts of wedding cake tastings and searching for a venue and fighting over seating charts invaded his every waking hour. And at night, he dreamt of being the one at the end of the aisle as you slowly walked towards him, a vision in white with your hair framing your face like the prettiest painting he had ever seen. Saw you approach him, place your hand in his and vow to be his forever. Felt your lips on his as you kissed for the first time as man and wife, dipping you unexpectedly and feeling your delicate fingertips wrap around his lapels to keep you steady. Dreamt of the first dance, twirling you around in his arms, and speeches and kissing every time cutlery tapped a wine glass. Dreamt of a hotel suite with rose petals on the floor, of slowly unzipping your dress and kissing every inch revealed, of a lacy white lingerie set and making love to you as your husband for the first time. But every morning he awoke in a too-large and too-empty king size bed with nothing but the faint memory of a dream.

On the morning of your wedding he awoke from such a dream, and realized he was going to wake up like that every morning for the rest of his life - sad, alone and wanting you. It was then he understood that he had to do something, had to tell you how he felt. He knew it was selfish and impetuous and rash, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try. He couldn’t let you marry some hedge fund manager from Raleigh who dressed like a douche in your engagement photo shoot. And so Rafe pulled himself out of his depression and his silk sheets, dressing himself in a suit and tie to hopefully blend in the back church pew. He didn’t tell Sarah, didn’t tell anyone about his plans lest they convince him not to try.

“Bride,” he told the usher when asked who’s side he was with, before slipping into the last pew on the left. His eyes glanced around the church and he shook his head, even the venue was wrong. You had always told Rafe that you wanted to be married on the beach, barefoot in the sand of the OBX, a soft breeze against your skin. He would always tease you about the breeze, lying in bed together with your hands intertwined dreaming about the future. But, in your dreams, you had always giggled, you could control the weather and you wanted a slight breeze like a scene from a movie. He pulled at his tie a little, the atmosphere stuffy and stifling, and he thought that, if you would have him, he would give you your dream beach wedding, even if he had to buy a large fan to give you your slight breeze.

You stood at the back of the church, nervously picking at the bouquet in your hands as your bridesmaids made their way down the aisle. Your arms were shaking with anxiety, but to the casual outside observer you likely seemed to be jittery with excitement. “You ready, sweetheart?” your father asked, offering you his bent elbow. Swallowing hard, you placed your hand in the crook of his arm and entered the chapel. Chris stood at the end of the aisle, a vision in a dark grey tux with a light pink tie to match the color of your bridesmaids’ dresses. You felt tears prick at your eyes as you felt nothing for the man standing there waiting for you. His eyes filled with matching tears and you felt nothing. Scanning the pews for reassurance from your family and friends, you spotted him. There, in the back pew on the left side, your side, sat Rafe Cameron.

You froze, eyes wide as you laid eyes on Rafe Cameron for the first time since you walked out of his apartment two years ago. Of course, you had unhealthily stalked his social media for months after the break up, and every now and then when you felt like torturing yourself, but this was the first time you saw him in person, close enough to run to, close enough to touch. Tearing your eyes from his, you scanned the church again, gulping as you met the furious stare of your mother in the first row, cringing at the almost devastated look on Chris’s face. Lastly, you looked up at your father who gave you a knowing stare, before inclining his head slightly at you. It was that small confirmation that sold it for you. You handed the bouquet to your father, quietly said, “I’m sorry,” before you turned and ran out of the church.

It was difficult to run in your expensive red bottom shoes, but you made an admirable effort for the first few feet before stopping long enough to slip them off. You held both shoes by the heel in one hand, the other hand grasping the bottom of your dress to keep it from dragging on the ground slowing you down. There’s a small park across the street from the church, and it’s here that you realize you’re being followed. Your chest restricts as you recognize the voice calling your name doesn’t belong to your mother or Chris or your bridesmaids. Stopping and turning around, you spot Rafe hot on your heels. You can’t do anything but stand there and stare at him as comes to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath despite his trim figure. You take him in, eyes roaming every inch of his tall frame. You’re a little dizzy, unsure if it’s the rush of your fight or flight instinct, or the rush you’ve always felt in Rafe’s presence.

“I’m sorry,” is the first phrase that leave his lips and you look at him in confusion. He loves the way your nose scrunches up, and the little crinkle that appears between your eyebrows, has dreamed of seeing it again.

“For what?” you asked, unsure of what he was apologizing for. You weren’t upset that you’d ran off, you knew that you didn’t really want to marry Chris, that you had only said yes because of the pressure from your mom and the knowledge that Rafe hadn’t spoken to you in two years.

“Everything,” he admits, flexing his hands nervously. “God, y/n, I fucked up so bad.” Your eyes are staring at his fidgeting hands, and in a split second you’ve dropped your shoes onto the grass and grasped his hands in yours, linking your fingers.

He looks between your now linked hands and your face, and you take the opportunity to take a step closer to him. “I’m sorry too,” you speak softly, “I shouldn’t have ran like that. I should have stayed, and I should have fought for you.”

“You’re not-“ he swallows, “you’re not mad I ruined your wedding?” Despite your hands in his, despite the look in your eye as you stare up at him, despite the fact that you haven’t run from him, he has to ask. Has to make sure that you’re still as in love with him as he is you. That you’ve spent the past two years thinking about where you both went wrong and how you could fix it. That you had thought and dreamt of this moment, where you were close enough to press your lips together.

“I think we both know that wasn’t my wedding, not really. Wrong color scheme, wrong venue...” you pause thoughtfully, squeezing his hands as a smile makes its way onto your face. He catches on quickly, his lips upturning with a small smirk as he finishes your thought, “Wrong groom?”

You giggle, dropping his hands in favour of gripping his face with your palms, smiling widely up at him. There’s something about the intimacy of the moment, of feeling his skin beneath your fingertips, that has you emotional. Rafe feels it too, staring into your eyes, in full disbelief that this is how today has gone. He had hoped, of course. He wouldn’t have shown up at the church if he thought there was no chance of stopping your wedding. But to have you here... Your thumb strokes his cheek as his eyes fill with tears. “Yeah, baby, wrong groom.”

At your confirmation, he ducks his head down and presses his lips to yours. Your hands slide from his cheeks to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other wrapping around the back of your neck holding you in place as the kiss deepens. You have to pull back to breathe, but he doesn’t let you go far, holding you in place as you rest your foreheads together.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers against your lips and you grin before pecking his lips once. “I’m still in love with you, too,” you whisper back. Suddenly, you’re kissing again, two years of absence melting away with each brush of your lips.

You pull away for a second time, smiling as his lips attempt to chase yours. “We’re going to have to work at this you know, our issues didn’t just go away,” you tell him seriously.

He nods, grabbing one of your hands to kiss the inside of your palm, “I know baby, but I’m ready to work on it, on us, this time.”

You grin widely at him once more, before grabbing your shoes and linking your hands together, “then let’s get me out of this stupid dress.”

everything taglist: @velyssaraptor​ @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @rekrappeter @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @sunwardsss @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @maybankfullkook @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @bluesiderudy @anxietyandtacos @diverrdown @stargazingstarkey

[spookyheaad]

Haphephobia talk

BIG TRIGGER WARNING: brief mentions of rape/coercion, mentions of suicidal ideation, self harm, physical and mental abuse, as well as dehumanization. This one is kinda heavy.

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Hi again! Currently horizontal on my couch because I have full body aches from the second covid shot and my head is killing me, but I expected this to happen as it’s normal for the second vaccine to knock you out for a day or two.

Anyway, I had a realization earlier that I write both Gild Tesoro of “One Piece”, as well as Death from “Darksiders” with Haphephobia - which is “a fear of touching or being touched”. While I write them with this phobia, it manifests within them differently, and I figured I would share some differences, and headcanons for both characters (it’s been so long since I’ve talked about my sassy depressed Nephilim husband; I miss you, Death ❤️❤️). Also with Death, I ship him with an OC I created, named Zemira. I don’t think I’ve shared a lot about her on tumblr, but I’ll be making a whole post about her another time; just know I’ll be mentioning her occasionally.

So I’ll be talking about Death’s haphephobia first, it’s a little more heavy (deadass trigger warning here for the brief mentions of rape. Skip this part if you need to):

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So I must start out with the obligatory mentioning of that accursed chapter from The Abomination Vault:

Death and War have to seek out Lilith and gain information from her. Death is viciously adamant for War to stay outside & away from that woman, but war protests and wishes to come in with him. Death, nearly resorting to beating his brother into submission, demands him to stay outside, and War finally relents.

When the eldest Horseman goes in to see Lilith, one of the first things she says to him is something along the lines of “this isn’t a social call, is it?”. I truly forget what else is mentioned, but there are a few times where Lilith tries to mention things of a (supposed) sexual nature towards Death, and he abruptly and angrily cuts her off. The one thing I remember Lilith saying to Death was her saying that Death was always a “sensitive boy” which makes my stomach fucking churn.

What is heavily implied in this scene, to me, is that Death and Lilith at some point in the past, had sexual encounters with one another that Death is very much extremely embarrassed and ashamed of, and with Lilith’s ability to seduce any being regardless if they want to partake or not, it’s safe to say that Death could have possibly been coerced into said sexual activity. Lilith’s ability to seduce is described almost like a date-rape drug to me, it causes people to fall under some kind of spell or go into a trance; what is a big uh-oh to me is when Death describes that War would be weak to Lilith’s wiles, or her tricks. So she is definitely capable of coercing people in any way to get what she wants. Also fucking keep in mind that Lilith refers to Death as her SON, which adds a whole new level of “what the fuck” to that situation; it’s just icky.

I feel that Death, because of this run in (or run-ins) with Lilith, developed a massive fear of being touched, which is backed up in canon in Darksiders 2. He does not allow anyone to physically touch him under any circumstance; when Death arrived in the Makers’ realm, Eideard touched his chest where the amulet pieces are embedded. Death recoils quickly and with a venomous growl, states: “Don’t touch me!”

Then of course when he goes to visit Lilith, she touches his chest as well, and he physically pushes her hand away from his body. She also refers to herself as Death’s mother, and Death angrily states: “You are not my mother!” Also from the moment Death sets foot in Lilith’s domain, he is not thrilled to be there, and acts very different towards her; more defensive, more on guard it seems.

So this headcanon stems from all of that; he will not let anyone touch him, it’s just that severe. Where my OC comes in, I actually have a story on AO3 titled “Haphephobia” and it shows how Death & Zemira try to get past this aversion to touch, so 1.) Zemira can give him affection and 2.) Death can allow himself to be loved. I’ll link it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860320/chapters/73476759

Death cannot even bring himself to hold her hand in the very beginning. So Zemira started there, holding his hand, physical closeness, and very slowly, started working to larger forms of touch. Obviously this gave Death massive amounts of anxiety, so this is why the process is extremely slow. It makes it even more important to go slow because Death tries to hide any weak emotions, so the physical and mental stress he puts himself under is tenfold.

I think that’s all for Death. His Haphephobia is extremely severe, from the specific traumas he has experienced, possibly being forced into sexual activity with his god damn “”mother””, as well as hiding his sensitivity and kindness (my headcanons for why he does that is a whole other post waiting to be written) and just not believing he is deserving of such love and care.

Ok, now for Tesoro (specific Trigger warnings here for mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, physical/mental abuse)

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So I just recently realized that I wrote Tesoro with symptoms of Haphephobia; also compared to Death, it isn’t as severe or debilitating, but no less harmful to the person going through it.

For Tesoro I think it was sparked by a mix of guilt and insecurity, obviously as well as his past abuse from both his mother and the Celestial Dragons. But in Film Gold it’s obvious that he doesn’t have an issue with being touched, I’m referencing the scene with the pool girls. I think in canon, he’s on high alert when someone goes to touch him, especially if it’s someone he is not familiar with, or does not like. It’s more of an automatic thing that he learned to suppress over time, especially because he absolutely craves attention and affection, and his fear of touch gets in the way of that.

So in a way, he did learn how to work through it, but it wasn’t proper or healthy, and because of that it’s still there in the back of his mind. I also believe that he doesn’t like people pinning him by the wrists/hands/arms or holding him down in any way, or being bound (sexual or non sexual, he does not like it). It triggers severe panic and flashbacks, so, it’s a big no.

In terms of if he were to be around Stella, it becomes heightened. It’s not that he’s afraid of her; he knows her well. He is afraid for her sake, that he would hurt her in some way simply by allowing her to touch him. All through his life, Tesoro was made to feel like he wasn’t worth the space he took up in his existence. His mother did not love him, the one person that could have given him some form of gentle gesture. She instead hurt him, screamed at him, made him feel worthless. Then we all know about the celestial dragons; they didn’t even see Tesoro as a human, and that mixed with the beatings from both the celestial dragons and his mother, he is weary to allow others to get close.

After Stella died, In his heart of hearts Tesoro genuinely thought that he was unloveable, mainly because of his mother. The one woman who brought him into this world didn’t care about his dreams or his well-being, so then how can anyone else? Then, when he found the single person that cared about him, she was whisked away from him without a second thought. Tesoro feels doomed to observe yet never experience the love and kindness that the world had to offer.

That mixed with Haphephobia makes him very cautious of others, and in the case of Stella, vehemently afraid. He loves her, and she loves him in return; Tesoro knows this full well, (we’re headed to the “if Stella survived” AU) after they reunite he is so afraid to touch her and it’s painful to him when she touches his body. It’s another source of frustration and anger because he knows that he is still in love with her, but his own body is trying to push her away. He would tear open his body for the apprehension to leave, to finally feel the comfort he yearned for within Stella’s embrace. No more fear, no more being brought to tears because he felt he didn’t deserve her kindness, no more guilt.

Both he & Death feel unloveable but for different reasons:

Death feels unloveable because of the atrocities he has committed, specifically the Nephilim Genocide & the creation of the Grand Abominations. He feels knee-crushing amounts of guilt for taking part in such events, and he puts up a facade of being an uncaring monster, when he is very much the opposite. He has kindness to give, yet is afraid to show it because of that idea that he is to be seen as nothing but an attack dog for the Charred Council. But this is also the same Nephilim who was so tired of making things that took life, and chose to make something that gave life instead, and gifted said item to his sister, Fury. This is the same Nephilim who took his own life to prove that his youngest brother War did not start the apocalypse. He cares so deeply, has insurmountable love to give, yet feels incapable of doing so.

Tesoro thinks he is unloveable because the world conditioned him to view himself as such. The extreme abuse he suffered told him that he is trash; an afterthought whose only use is as a punching bag or a wasted body to rend flesh from. Ants had more worth in this world than he, and Tesoro knew it. All it took was Stella, one person, for him to see that he is worthy of such a thing, that nothing that went on in their pasts was his fault, and that he does deserve to be given gentle touches, soft reassuring hugs, feather-light kisses, and that he is able to be loved.

[veliseraptor]

since it’s plane ride time tomorrow again and also I’m still having a hard time picking one project to focus on, how about another 150 words meme? yes already.

send me up to three of the numbers corresponding to one of the 15 fics under the cut and I’ll write 150 words in that fic. that’s it that’s the game

1. Once again Song Lan swept them out of town, unwilling to let them linger. Xue Yang, even like this, was still too volatile and dangerous for Song Lan to want him around people - even if Song Lan himself had been inclined to socialize, which he wasn’t.

He’d never been sociable. And now, with the risk of being recognized for what he was, and cut off by the difficulty of communicating to others…

For a bleak moment he considered that his primary company going forward would consist solely of Xue Yang. It was a somewhat horrifying realization to have, and he tried to brush it aside. (Walking Far From Home)

2. “Would you stop that?” he said eventually. Xue Yang gave him a weird look.

“Stop what,” he said. 

Looking at me sounded…like something he shouldn’t say. “You know what,” he said, which honestly probably wasn’t even better. Something sparked in Xue Yang’s eyes that Song Lan recognized as dangerous, but he’d already committed and he wasn’t going to back down now. (heel, stay)

3. But while he’d slept, the world had gone on without him. Changed without him. Everyone he’d known and loved was gone. Xingchen’s soul was shattered fragments; a-Qing, brave as she’d been, barely any better. Xue Yang was dead but he couldn’t summon any feeling of victory or satisfaction, only a dull exhaustion and a peculiar, inexplicable ache. 

There was nothing left for him, and yet here he still was. (the poison in your bones)

4. Words that would be compliments from someone else Xue Yang spat like insults. Xiao Xingchen drew back. “That’s not it,” he protested. “I don’t care who knows me, or if anyone does. I’m not looking for fame or glory–”

“No,” Xue Yang said, his voice harsh, “you just want people to love you.” (The Care and Keeping of an Unexpected Prisoner)

5. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, daozhangs,” Luo Feng said quickly, and Xue Yang opened his mouth to say great, then don’t, you can head out now and I won’t dislocate your shoulder for intruding where I don’t want you.

Xiao Xingchen beat him to it. “It’s no inconvenience,” he said, smiling in the way that said he knew he was going to get his way, and of all of Xiao Xingchen’s smiles Xue Yang sort of hated that one. “We can make space.” He turned his face toward Xue Yang, expectation written all over it. Xue Yang glanced at a-Qing to see if she was on board with this plan, which based on her face she was actually happy about. 

Xue Yang’s stomach curdled, but that made it three against one since fucking Zichen was absolutely going to cave - already had, really. He turned his gaze toward Luo Feng and thought, as hard as he possibly could, I am going to peel your skin off with a dull knife.

Based on the way some of the color left Luo Feng’s face, it translated enough. (worst meet the family ever)

6. “Where did you have expensive wine,” a-Qing asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

Xue Yang grinned at her. “I worked for the Chief Cultivator for a while. I’ll have you know I was very important. Sort of.” 

“Liar,” a-Qing accused him. “Next thing you’re going to be telling me you’re…” She trailed off, apparently at a loss for a suitably absurd identity. Xue Yang laughed, because it was funny, her thinking he was lying when he wasn’t even at all, and because it was funny thinking about the life at Jinlintai that sometimes seemed like it belonged to someone else.

“Chifeng-zun,” he said. A-Qing gave him a quizzical look. Xue Yang swayed. “You’re so stupid, you don’t know anything,” he said. “I kind of love it.” (moonshine)

7. “Hey, Wen-daifu,” Xue Yang said, this time cruising right into her cell without even pretending to ask first. “Do you know why when you take a kidney or something out of someone and put it in someone else, they die?” 

Wen Qing blinked once. “I think,” she said slowly, “there are a lot of potential answers to that question.” 

Xue Yang paced around the limits of her cell, at least as much as he could in a small space. “Okay, sure, like what?” he said. “It’s not blood loss - I accounted for that, and I was careful about keeping things clean, too.” 

“Why were you doing this to begin with,” Wen Qing asked. Xue Yang gave her a look that indicated he thought that was a stupid question.

“I was curious,” he said. “And it seemed like a thing that could be useful, if it worked.” (fall apart, destroy, release)

8. “Was it fun,” he asked, again, the same question he’d asked the first time. His heart was racing, his mind leaping ahead, you killed those people, you killed Zichen–

“Of course it was fun!” Xue Yang said. Xiao Xingchen could picture the look on his face: the toothed grin, the bright sparkling eyes. His friend. His friend, his…

What have you done?

There was a deafening ringing in his ears. 

I can’t, he thought wildly. I can’t, please, I can’t–

Shuanghua’s hilt felt warm where his frozen fingers gripped it. Its edge was cold. The pain was sharp, but very brief. 

He plunged wailing into darkness, desperate for oblivion.

“Daozhang!”

Xiao Xingchen screamed until his throat hurt and then cut it again. (the cycle comes back to the start)

9. “I don’t think that,” he said, because it seemed important. 

“Don’t think what?” Xue Yang said. 

“That you’re - some kind of psycho,” Xiao Xingchen said gingerly. “That’s not how I think about you.”

“Aww, Xingchen,” Xue Yang said, grinning. “Are you saying you think about me?” 

“No,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Or - well, yes, I do, but - I didn’t mean - not that I mean that I don’t–” 

Xiao Xingchen decided it was probably better to give it up, at least for now. (Redux)

10. Xue Yang didn’t let his grip tighten, focusing very hard on calm. He wasn’t going to lose his temper. He had to show Xiao Xingchen that things would be good if he came back. That he could make things good. 

“It’s a nice day,” he said. “Well, okay, not nice nice, but one of those days where the mist hangs around late. You said it made things feel fresh. Mostly I think it just makes things feel damp, but…” 

He watched Xiao Xingchen’s face closely, but couldn’t see even a twitch of his mouth or eyebrows. Xue Yang shifted. 

“Be nice to go for a walk,” he said casually, searching for any kind of response, anything. Some kind of reaction. Give me something to work with, here. “The birds are going to start missing you, probably.” 

There. Just the faintest flicker, barely perceptible, but enough that Xue Yang leaned forward, eyes widening. 

“You don’t want that, do you, Daozhang?” he said quickly. “What am I supposed to tell them? I don’t know how to talk to birds.” 

He could hear Xiao Xingchen’s little giggle, his I don’t talk to birds, my friend, I just like to listen, and he could say well that’s rude, Daozhang, what if they’re trying to have a conversation, huh?

But Xiao Xingchen didn’t laugh, and didn’t say anything. Instead he just - started weeping blood again. Xue Yang’s tongue filled his mouth, momentarily stilled before he shook himself, regaining it.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t cry, it’s not like–” 

“Stop,” Xiao Xingchen said, his voice faint but easily loud enough for Xue Yang to hear. “Stop talking.” (xxc survives and it isn’t fine)

11. “It’s not that surprising,” Xiao Xingchen said. 

“Yeah? You have a lot of experience with hitting your head so hard it knocks the sense right out of you? That explains a lot.” 

Xiao Xingchen frowned. “No, I - hey,” he said, processing a moment late. His friend laughed, bright and sharp, and again there was that cold clutch in Xiao Xingchen’s stomach, a squirming, sourceless disquiet.

“You’re too easy,” his friend said, but he sounded fond about it again. (xiao xingchen + concussion)

12. Xiao Xingchen didn’t regret his decision. But oh, sometimes - sometimes he was so lonely, and the nights were so cold, and he thought of all the long years ahead of him and wished with all his heart that there had been another option.

He yearned for someone to walk beside him, to speak with him, to touch him, even if it was just a hand on his arm or a brush against his shoulder. Sometimes when he walked alone he kept his face turned forward so that he could imagine that just a little to the left there was someone there, quiet but present. 

It was fitting that he be alone; perhaps the more so because it made his heart ache so badly. (how bright you glow)

13. “You make me laugh like no one else ever has,” Xiao Xingchen said, his voice vibrating in his chest where Xue Yang was resting his head. His breathing hitched, stomach doing a funny little jump-and-flop. 

“Don’t tell a-Qing,” he said. “She’ll get jealous.”

Xiao Xingchen’s hand rose, fingers teasing through Xue Yang’s tangled hair. “You make it feel so easy,” he said. “So...uncomplicated.” Xue Yang twisted his head around, neck straining, so he could see Xiao Xingchen’s face, but he just looked thoughtful. “I didn’t know I could laugh so much.” (how rare and beautiful)

14. Lan Wangji had battled with deadly monsters and subdued fearsome elementals. He had faced powerful ghosts, some ancient and all full of rage and venom. 

None of them had left him feeling like this. Exhausted, drained as though something had sucked out all of his spiritual energy and replaced it with something heavy and useless. Aching as though he’d taken a beating that he hadn’t. 

Defeated. That was the word. He felt as though he’d lost.

Not that he had. In order to have lost he would have had to give up, and Lan Wangji would not give up on Wei Ying. Never. He would stay here until he faded to nothingness, like Lan Yi in the Ice Caves at Cloud Recesses, searching for a way to help him, to free him. (the fair and the brave and the good must die)

15. “Don’t suppose you’d take these off now,” Xue Yang said, holding out his arms. “Seeing as we’ve got a common enemy now.”

“No,” Song Lan said flatly. Xue Yang turned his eyes hopefully on Xiao Xingchen, who seemed like he might be a softer touch, but he seemed to be busy cleaning out the shallow wound that’d sliced open Song Lan’s left arm. Xue Yang suppressed his prickle of annoyance and held onto his smile.

“Really? I’m not your biggest problem anymore, Song-daozhang.”

“You’re still a problem,” Song Lan said. Xiao Xingchen raised his eyes briefly from Song Lan’s arm to his face, and then glanced toward Xue Yang. Xue Yang held in the urge to show his teeth, but Xiao Xingchen just turned his eyes back to the wound he was tending anyway. “Freeing you would make you a worse one. Turning the wolf loose when there’s a tiger hunting doesn’t give the hare a better chance.”

“Does that make you two rabbits?” Xue Yang said. Xiao Xingchen’s lips pursed, straightening and turning in his direction. (strangers once united)

[vodkaxtonic]

Hello there! If it tickles your fancy, could you write a Zuko x reader one shot?? Like a college au thing and they’re doing a group project together haha

Journey Of Love •Zuko x Reader•

This took really long and I put a lot of effort into it! Feedback is appreciated! And, I kinda went off the request but still tried to keep the main thing of the request, I hope that's okay!

Warnings: fluff, slow burn, humor, cussing

Wordcount: 9.5K

The first week in the Ba sing se University should be calm, merely to get used to the school, gather all your supplies, wander around the University, to make sure you won't get lost on the real first day, and decorate your dorm room. Or so you thought. 

The first thing that went completely wrong were the people that should've brought your stuff from home to the University, to make your room more home-ish and make you feel welcome. They went to the wrong fucking University and left your furniture, decor, and paintings, etc. on their doorstep, which then got stolen. Which means you were in an empty dorm, only two beds, and two closets decorating your room, nothing to make you feel home. Your things, decor, etc. were homey to you, keeping you from being homesick, but now? Now you felt lost, basically half of your identity lost with the furniture, books, and clothes that got stolen. Now the only thing people would see was another firebender; you just wanted to be yourself in the time you were here. You had bought different clothes and shipped them with the other stuff, and now the only thing you had in your suitcase was traditional Fire Nation attire.

The second thing that ruined your week was your professor. Every other professor was going in small steps, slowly introducing their students into the subject they chose to study. But yours? Hell, no. Professor Huang jumped right into projects, even though you haven't learned anything yet. Maybe art wasn't such an appealing subject to study after all.

The last thing that completely ruined your week? You had to hand in a project in a week, an abstract piece of art that described love, with a whole essay as to why those exact things reminded you of love and how it changed your perspective. All of the material you were using had to be foundable around the city, whether in the local market or on a deserted field in the second ring of Ba sing se. But the absolute best thing was your partner that you got assigned with wasn't even in the lecture! You had to do everything on your own, and honestly, you were considering if jumping out of your third-floor dorm room window was more uncomplicated than the first week. 

Now you were scurrying through the hallways of your new University, just wanting to go to your room and fall into bed. You needed the nap after getting yelled at by your professor for saying that love was a social construct to make us less lonely, a social construct to make us feel like we are more than a tiny pawn in a big game of chess played by the universe. Well, your professor didn't like that at all, even though he had said the first day that he enjoyed a critical view of different perspectives of the world and emotions. Well, everything except love. 

You walked around the corner, your books dropping to the ground as you lifted your hands, blocking the flames that came your way out of instinct. "What the actual fuck?!" You yelled, now the last bit of calmness in your body disappeared, and you were on the verge of absolutely setting this place ablaze. "I thought you were my sister--" "I don't give a fuck! You could've seriously hurt someone! Who the fuck do you think you are?" You yelled, your heart still beating way too fast, you felt like you just bent with lightning. Your skin felt like it got ignited, your fingers shaking and sparking with tiny flames fire. "You don't know who I am?" He asked rather shocked as he stood up straight, his face filled by surprise. "Should I know you? Your mom and dad probably bought you your education, and you're just here because it's their dream for you, but you don't give a fuck, and they'll end up having to buy you your University degree too, you entitled stupid prat!" You decided to let your anger out on the stranger, your hands balled to fists, and between your fingers escaped black smoke, slowly dissolving in the air. The stranger looked taken aback as he watched you for a few seconds. "This right here was your biggest mistake, honey." "Fuck you." You spat back as you picked up your books, storming past him into your dorm room. "Well, that's a pleasant way to meet the people next door." You heard his faint voice in the hallway, and you could imagine the sly smirk on his face. You exhaled deeply through your nose, black smoke covering your vision for a second before you slammed the door shut, the ground vibrating at the force. A frustrated groan escaped your mouth as you walked towards your bed. "So, you met Zuko?" Your head snapped toward the girl that was sitting on the second bed in the room that was previously unoccupied, and only now, you saw that her whole wall decorated with circus posters. Another groan escaped your mouth as you dropped onto your bed, covering your head with a pillow. This week felt like a big stupid fucking joke. "I'm Ty Lee, by the way." The girl was nice, you figured. However, you were in a bad mood. "Y/n." You mumbled into your pillow, still loud enough for her to hear. "Do you need a hug?" She asked, a frown covering her mouth as she picked up on your bad mood. "I need quietness and a nap." You answered, your voice cold as you turned your back to her and pulled your duvet over you. You needed a break right now to make sure you wouldn't commit arson. Your patience was gone, and the first week of University was probably the worst one in history. 

The next day started worse than the days before. You slept in, now running down the hallways of the Uni with bed hair and the clothes you had slept in, a red satin top and red long satin pants. You didn't want to be late in your first week, what kind of impression would that leave, especially on Professor Huang. Your feet took you down the corridors, and finally, you found your lecture room, and you burst in, making everyone turn to you. "I am so sorry, Professor Huang, I--" "Go take a seat, Ms. Y/L/N." You nodded, your head bowed in shame as your eyes scanned the packed lecture room. The room was almost overflowing with students, leaving only a few seats free, the some that were free got blocked by the bags of the students. When you finally spotted an empty chair, you inhaled deeply, quickly making your way over. You were pretty sure your face was a deep shade of crimson red, the whole situation uncomfortable and embarrassing. Without looking further, you dropped your bag next to the table, sitting down in the chair in the very first row. "Hello again." Your whole body tensed at the voice beside you. "I'm glad you found the seat beside your project partner, Ms. Y/L/N." Professor Huang said, and your jaw almost kissed the ground. "Professor Huang, is there any way I can do the project on my own?" You pleaded as you looked at your Mr. Huang, hoping that batting your eyelashes would help. "I'm sorry, Ms. Y/L/N. I put you and prince Zuko in the same group for a reason. You both grew up in the Fire Nation, he grew up in royalty and you in poverty. I want to know the different perspectives on how you perceive love." Your teeth ground painfully against each other as you stared at your Mr. Huang. "A simple no would've been fine." You tried to stay as calm as you could, hoping to forget that he just told the whole lecture that you grew up in poverty and the fact that you insulted a prince. "Anyway, Ms. Y/L/N, we just talked about the projects. How is your and prince Zuko's coming together?" You gulped the lump in your throat down as you looked at Mr. Huang. "I started gathering some things for the project already, but I didn't start putting them on the canvas." He only nodded before continuing the lecture, not giving you a second glance. With a quiet whine, you let your head fall onto your books, and you could hear Zuko chuckle. This day wasn't going as good as you hoped it'd be. 

"Meet me at six in the library." You said to him without looking at him, putting away your books as you stood up. "Why not in your room or mine? I mean, our rooms are right next to each other." Zuko asked as he stood up. "Because I don't want you in my room, and I'm not going to your room." You answered, heaving your bag over your shoulders before walking out of the room, leaving Zuko on his own. 

PROJECT LOVE DAY 1/4

You sat in the library, your foot tapping against the wooden ground in rhythm as you read a book you had snatched from one of the shelves. You decided to be there a little earlier than planned, wanting to have some quiet time from your roommate before meeting Zuko. You liked Ty Lee, but the girl never knew when to stop talking, and if you went to the library already annoyed, you knew this wouldn't end very well. However, Zuko still managed to be late, which was no surprise. In your eyes, he was a spoiled brat. 

You didn't bother to look up from your book when the chair across of you screeched over the ground, earning dirty glances from the other students that studied in the library. "Can you at least look at me?" Zuko's voice was laced with annoyance as he looked at you, but you just turned to the next page. "You're late." You stated to obvious, not being able to concentrate on the sentence with Zuko's intense stare. "Sorry, princess, I have other things to do than doing this project with you." He muttered, making you huff as you closed the book. Your eyebrows furrowed when you realized he was empty-handed. "It's our grade, you idiot. Also, where the hell is your stuff?" "What stuff?" He furrowed his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but groan at his oblivious behavior. "The things that remind us of love, you know, the stuff. I can't and won't do this project on my own, your highness." Your voice layered with annoyance, anger, and plain mockery. You didn't give two flying fucks that he was royalty, in Ba Sing Se Zuko was simply another student, equal to you and not above you. 

Zuko crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair, face grimaced by anger. He kept quiet, and you wondered where his snarky remark was. "Do you even have things that remind you of any kind of affection? Like, anything?" You asked as your mind caught up with what was going on. He probably didn't receive a lot of affection due to his royal descended. The Fire Nation was a nation of no emotion but anger, which had troubled you a lot growing up. You never seemed to fit in with them, one of the many reasons you wanted to go to Ba Sing Se to study instead of the Fire Nation. 

He didn't answer, and that was answer enough for you as you sighed, standing up. His eyes followed every move you made with a way of alertness that scared you a bit. You put your book back where you got it from, before walking back to the table and putting away the canvas that was on the table. With a quiet groan, you heaved the bag over your shoulder, starting to walk towards the exit, before turning around. Zuko hadn't moved an inch, though, his head turned as he looked at you over his shoulder. "Are you waiting for a written invitation?" You asked, rolling your eyes as you watched him standing up, not caring to wait for him as you left the library, breathing in the warm evening air. "Where are we going?" Zuko asked as he came up beside you, but your eyes locked on the sunset. You watched the pink in the sky that mixed with the reds and oranges as if they always have belonged together, despite their differences. You grinned, your eyes quickly glancing towards the prince that looked weirdly attractive in the pink lightning that shun upon him. "Finding the path of love. But first some food, I'm starving." 

Soon you found both of you standing in front of a restaurant. "Something against spicy chicken noodle soup?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. It was just politeness, you would go in there alone, but he was with you, so it was polite to ask. "Nope." He shrugged, following your suit as you walked inside. "A table for two," you said to the waitress that stood at the door as she greeted you. As soon as her gaze fell upon Zuko, her cheeks heated up, and she started fiddling with the menus in her hand nervously, her other hands running through her jet black hair. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. He wasn't that attractive, you thought, but maybe you thought that because your first encounter was heated, and you didn't mean your anger issue problem.

"So, what is love by your definition?" You asked as you waited for your food to cool down, not wanting to burn yourself even though you had a high pain tolerance towards hot things. It's the firebender genes. "Strictness, dominance, god-complex." He shrugged, not caring that his food was hot. You knew that he was eating to keep him from answering your questions, which annoyed you even more. "You have a shit perspective of love." You muttered, taking a sip of your black tea, eyeing the prince. Right now, he didn't seem like the royal pratt you had met, just like a normal boy you went to a restaurant with, a friend even. However, you knew differently. He could be an asshole, an arrogant one if he wanted to, but right now, he wasn't, and you were more than glad. "What's love by your definition?" He asked, mouth full, and you grimaced a bit. That wasn't royal behavior, but you shrugged it off. "For me, love is little things. I grew up in a harsh environment, not a lot of money. Little things like my mother remembering my favorite fruit and buying it when she had leftover money, or my sister crafting me a necklace from pretty stones she had found by the lake near our property, or my father saving money up for me to buy new clothes. It wasn't a lot, but it showed their affection towards me." You said, a smile covering your lips as you remembered your family. If it wouldn't have been for the poverty, the struggle of getting money to have food on the table and days going without it, your family would've been perfect. "I didn't even get that." He scoffed as he stopped eating, his eyes gazing over the people that passed the restaurant. "I mean, I had plenty of money all my life. I should've been happy, I had food, I had clothes and my family bought me anything I wanted. But money doesn't buy love and money doesn't buy happiness. Your family held together, even in tough times. Mine was scattered all over the place, trying to buy the lack of affection they were showing. A story to bawl to, isn't it?" Zuko immediately wanted to take back what he had said, knowing that he went in too deep. He doesn't know you, and now he spilled his traumatic and lonely childhood with you, and he couldn't help but be jealous of you. He'd rather have no money and a family than money and no family. And you couldn't help but feel sorry for him, not knowing that being royal means being lonely, but you were pretty sure it was his family and not because he was a royal. His family was dysfunctional, whether with or without money.

You finished your bowl of chicken noodle soup in silence, which felt like it was suffocating both of you. "Can we get the check, please?" Zuko asked the waitress that came to your table. You started digging through your bag. "I'll get it." "No!" You exclaimed, voice stern as you got out the money, taking Zuko's shock to your advantage as you paid, keeping the check. "I could've paid for that," Zuko said as he stood up, and following you out of the restaurant into the night that had set over Ba Sing Se. "Love doesn't only come from family, but also friends. It's paying for someone else, little acts of kindness, and when they stack up upon each other, you'll look back to it and realize it's a form of love." You said as you looked up into the night sky, seeing endless stars covering the sky. "Doesn't mean we're friends, but I can be a kind person if I'm not getting a blast of fire shot at my face." 

PROJECT LOVE DAY 2/4

You were once again waiting in the library, the same book from yesterday in your hand. To your surprise, Zuko managed to show up on time as he sat down across you, a weirdly happy expression on his face as you put down your book. "What is it, Mr. Hotpants?" You asked, the random nickname coming to your mind, and you decided to just roll with it, realizing it was a huge mistake. "So, you think I'm hot?" Zuko smirked, his ego blasting through the roof as you rolled your eyes. "Hot because firbender--Nevermind, why are you so happy?" You decided to not defend yourself, way too tired from your work shift after the lecture. It was a small job, helping out in a small grocery store, but it was still exhausting, especially with studying. "I planned the day!" He grinned excitedly. "For what?" You furrowed your eyebrows, tiredly rubbing your eyes. "Our journey to find love!" He said a little too loud, and you couldn't help but blush as you realized the people that sent smiles your way. "I think I found mine, but I'm up for whatever you planned to find yours." You shrugged with a smile, standing up as you followed him. 

That wasn't the same Zuko from two days ago. Not the cocky, arrogant Zuko. It also wasn't the Zuko from yesterday, the one that opened up to you a bit, showing you his vulnerable state and his lonely past. No, this was today's Zuko, who seemed to be giddy, a childish like the behavior you couldn't help but adore as he pulled you down the street by the sleeve of your jacket. "Wow, calm down there!" You couldn't help but laugh as you stumbled behind him, trying not to trip. "Close your eyes." He stopped in his tracks, making you bump into his back, stumbling back a bit. "Do you think we're at that stage of trust?" You raised your eyebrows, a small smile on your face as you watched him pout. "Come on! It's for 20 seconds." He pleaded, and you gave in, closing your eyes, and he walked behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he guided you to a more lively part of town, the chattering of people filling up your ears. "Where are we going?" "Journey of love, I told you!" Zuko exclaimed, not wanting to give it away. 

Zuko grabbed your shoulders a bit more tightly as he stopped, keeping you from stumbling into the people that passed you. "Open your eyes." So, you did, and for a few seconds, you were speechless as you looked through the street. You looked at the many people that walked beside you, some of them couples, fresh in a relationship and happy with their significant other, others with friends, laughing as they walked the street in groups and old married couples that wanted to take a stroll, happily smiling at each other. "We are at the town festival." You beamed, as you looked around, looking at the different shops around you, some of them having cans stacked for people to throw over, the prizes stuffed animals and little toys. Others sold foods from all over the world, a puppet show for children, firebenders making a fire show, earthbenders changing rocks into animals, waterbenders selling healing water, and offering free healing for the people in need. It was breathtaking. "I figured this was a great place to go find the path of love. Couples come here, friends come here, even people that mistake a stranger for their sister and send a fireball their way come here." You both chuckled at the last part, and you shook your head. "I can't remember the last time I was at a town festival." You smiled, but you couldn't help but frown afterward. Your family never had enough money to come to a place like this, so the only thing you could do was walk through the streets as a child, wondering why every other family could afford this, but not yours. Only later you realized, it wasn't only saddening you, but also your parents. They wanted to give their daughters everything in life but had no money to do so.

"Come on, we are not just going to look at others having fun!" Zuko urged you, and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and amusement as he joyfully wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you along through the crowd of people. "What do you want to do first?" "Oh Zuko, I don't have any money with me-" You stumbled over your words, embarrassed as you tried to explain that you left your money in your drawer in the dorm, but he cut you off. "No worries, my treat." He gave you an encouraging smile. "Little acts of kindness will stack upon each other, and looking back at it, you will realize that it is a form of love." He said as he tried to quote your words from yesterday, making you smile a bit. You didn't think he'd even remember any of the words you said, the unheard words you usually recited inside your head. 

"Is this a journey of love?" Zuko asked as he took a bite of the extra spicey fried duck, a Fire Nation national dish. Everything was a Fire Nation dish if it was spicy enough. You decided that you didn't want to suffer twice, so you stuck with a traditional Water Tribe fish soup with water plumbs. "Is it for you? Do you feel loved, like a warm feeling making itself present within your chest, making you feel all giddy?" You asked as you looked at Zuko. You liked this Zuko. For once, he seemed like he was genuinely happy, no cocky grin and no snarky remarks, just pure joy filling every atom of his body. "I do, but I'm not sure if it's the spicy duck or that we're here today." He chuckled, and you smiled as you gave the man behind the counter your empty bowl, thanking him as Zuko paid for both of you. "You know, this is something I never could enjoy with my family. My father used to say that the royal people were too good to be in town with people like this." Zuko said as he eyed the crowd, a humble smile on his face. "He was wrong. It's amazing. It makes you feel like you're alive for once, that your future is not set by the family you were born in. It makes you feel like you're apart of something bigger than yourself. That you have a purpose in your life." 

In silence, you walked back to the University, but you didn't mind. It gave you time to think, and you had to admit, you started liking Zuko's company. Your eyes glanced over to the throne prince, who seemed to be a normal teenage boy for once, walking beside you, his feet kicking small rocks through the street. You couldn't tell if it was your tiredness speaking, or the fact that you were still too euphoric, but as you glanced at him, something inside you warmed up. Something about his face lit by the yellow lighting of the lanterns, the way a soft, small smile covered his face when he managed to kick one of the stones against a lantern post, was different. You were intrigued by him, and every second you kept looking at him, he seemed to get even more handsome. You weren't quite sure what to think about you thinking that way, but you didn't mind it too much.   It was because you were tired, you figured. You almost hoped. If this isn't going to fade tomorrow, you know it'd bite you in the ass later. 

"Wait!" Zuko stopped you from entering your room, your door already halfway open as you turned back around, your face filled with confusion. He rummaged through his pocket, before fishing out a green satin bag with the Earth Kingdom sigil on it, handing it to you. "What is it?" You asked, confused as you felt the bag, not having a clue what it was. "A surprise." He grinned as he walked towards his door. "Why?" You asked, now making him turn around, his hand on the door handle. "No reason." Again, the soft smile that seemed to melt your insides as he stepped inside his room, leaving you alone in the hallway.

You entered your room, closing the door behind you and lighting a fire in your hand, expecting the bag in your other palm. "What is that?" You flinched as Ty Lee came up to you, her face filled by curiosity. "I don't know yet." You answered, truthfully, as you walked over to your bed, lighting the candle on your bedside table. "Who gave it to you?" Ty Lee questioned as she took a seat beside you on your bed, and you looked at her. "Zuko." You muttered, and you could imagine the way her face lightened up. "Open it, open it!" She urged you, and you snickered as you opened the satin bag, pulling out a little stone figure. It was smooth between your fingers, precisely made. "It's a turtleduck." Ty Lee said in awe as she took it in between her fingers. "You must mean a lot to him if he gave you this." Ty Lee smiled, giving you the little figure. "Why?" You questioned. Zuko said he gave you this for no reason, so why would you mean a lot to him if he gave you this. Ty Lee stood up with a sigh, walking over to her bed and sat down. She gazed at you, but it seemed like she was in her world when she started speaking. "Back in the palace, they have a garden. They have a pond with a turtleduck family. Zuko and his mother used to feed them together all the time. It's a precious memory for him. Usually, he gets irritated when you bring this up because he misses his mother. She left him at a very young age." Ty Lee explained, and you gaped at her. "It's not something usual for Zuko to do, the whole present thing. But even more unusual is that he gave you a part of his most precious memories." Ty Lee leaned back in her bed and covered herself in her duvet, before chirping a goodnight and turning around, leaving you stunned. You changed into your pajamas before returning into your bed, snuffing out the candle, leaving you in complete darkness as your fingers still fiddled with the stone figure, taking in every edge and corner of it. You couldn't help but wonder as to why Zuko would give you something so close to his heart, so close to his safe place as you started falling into a deep slumber. 

PROJECT LOVE DAY 3/4

Your foot tapped against the wooden ground of the library impatiently. This morning after the lecture, you and Zuko had agreed to meet earlier than usual since falling asleep that late took a toll on your concentration. He agreed, but now you waited in the library for over an hour, and your patience was running low. 

After another thirty minutes passing, you groaned quietly, cursing under your breath as you went to the dorms. You wouldn't let Zuko get away with this. With heavy footsteps, you walked over to his room, your fingers loudly knocking against the door. Suprise filled your face as a boy you didn't know opened the door, his desperate eyes filling with relief as he saw you. "Thank god, you're here. You're y/n, right?" You raised your eyebrows, nodding. "Zuko was threatening to roast me like a winged pig if I didn't hurry to the library to tell you that he wouldn't be able to make it. Thank god you're here, though! Now you can take care of him!" The boy dashed past you with a grateful smile, leaving you in a door stunned before you heard a faint 'Sokka, you jerk!' from inside the room. Slowly you opened the door, and your eyes met Zuko's pale body, he laid in his bed, shirtless, shivering, a thin layer of sweat covering his body as weak groans left his mouth. He looked at you, opening his mouth, but before he could say something, he leaned over the bucket beside his bed, vomiting. Your anger vanished as you speed walked over to him, kneeling beside him as you rubbed your warm hand over his sweaty back, but you couldn't care less about that. Your other hand found it's way to his long hair, holding it out of his face as he groaned in pain, his back muscles flexing under your hand. A frown covered your face as he finally stopped, now laying back into his bed, wiping his mouth with a cloth that settled on his bedside table. "You shouldn't see me like this." His voice was low as he turned to the side, not only because it would be easier to reach the bucket but because he craved to see your face. The worry in your eyes made his heart warm up. He couldn't exactly explain why. "Do you think you could survive thirty minutes without me?"

After you got Zuko's approval and provided him with water, and an emptied bucket, you raced out of the door into your room, taking a weaved basket off of the top of your closet. "Where are you going?" Ty Lee asked her arm wrapped around her girlfriend you had met this morning, Mai, by her side. Ty Lee was right, Mai did look like she had no emotions. "I need to get some stuff from the market. I need to take care of Zuko." You answered, now both Ty Lee and Mai intrigued. "What's wrong with him?" Mai asked as she raised her eyebrows in question. "I don't know he's not feeling too well, basically barfing his guts out." You answered with a frown. Of course, you felt unwell, leaving him on his own, but you wanted to get some things that made you feel better when you were sick, and maybe it'd make him feel better, too. "We can join you, so you get back faster." Ty Lee proposed after she saw your face filled with distress. "You would do that?" You asked, hopeful. Things would go much faster, and that meant you wouldn't have to leave him on his own for too long. "Of course, right Mai?" "I guess."

You gave everyone a list of things they'd have to get, and you guys split up, roaming over the marketplace and the shops surrounding it. You walked past the fruits and came to a halt in front of your favorite fruit, watermelon. You picked a smaller one, paying for it before making your way over the market. Maybe, just maybe, this was the little safe memory you could share with Zuko after he had shared one with you, even though you weren't quite aware of it. Your mother's remedy that always nursed you back to health. 

"We got everything you asked us for, and do you know how nice I had to be for the man in the teashop to lend you the teapot?" Mai said, and you thanked her as you put the teapot inside your weaved basket, hoping it wouldn't spill. "And I got the bowl of chicken soup, careful it's hot!" You also thanked Ty Lee as she smiled brightly at you. "Thank you, guys. You don't know how much I appreciate it." You thanked them, and you were genuine. "I get it, you worry about him. We're happy to help." Ty Lee exclaimed with a soft smile, her hand resting on your upper arm. "She's happy to help, I tolerate it." You nodded towards Mai, noting the ghost of a smile on her face. 

Your knuckles lightly knocked against Zuko's door, but the only thing you got met with was silence. Slowly you opened the door, flinching as Ty Lee carefully put the two last things you had asked her to get inside the basket. You gave her a thankful nod before slipping through the gap of the door, closing it behind you. You noted Zuko's slow breathing, and you were happy that he was sleeping instead of puking his guts out. You placed the basket onto the ground, walking over to Zuko. As your eyes roamed over his body, you frowned. He looked a lot paler than he already was, body covered in sweat as he turned, grunting in pain. With a small sigh escaping your mouth, you took the water bucket Sokka had left, taking one of the fresh clothes that settled on his bedside table. You proceeded to drench the cloth before walking over to Zuko, taking the lukewarm one from his forehead, throwing it on the ground. You grabbed another piece of fabric and soaked it with water, starting to dab his chest and neck a bit. 

"You're back." Zuko's voice was raspy as he looked at you, your eyes glancing over to his face before you continued trying to cool down his burning body. "How long was I sleeping?" "Not long, I only came here a minute ago, and I left ten minutes ago." You said as you dropped the fabric next to the other one. "How are you feeling?" You asked, the back of your hand pressing against his cheek, but he was still burning up, and it worried you. "Like a flying bison crushed me." He chuckled weakly, his eyes following you as you walked over to the basket. "I got you some things to nurse you back to health. Well, at least it helped me." You shrugged with a smile as you walked over. Zuko could have sworn something inside him was alive, his stomach felt all...fluttery? It was weird, and he didn't know what to think about it. "Why?" He asked, and he was seriously curious. You knew each other for six days now, and one and a half of them Zuko was a total dick, and now you were worried sick about him. "Because taking care of someone who is sick is another form of showing affection." You smiled, and you were glad that the room was dimly lit, else he would've seen the blush that crept up your face. You never blushed, what the hell was wrong to with you? "And because you showed me a part of one of the happiest memories in your life, even though I was completely unaware of it, so now I'm showing you mine." Zuko smiled softly before his face turned to confusion, then to annoyance. "Ty Lee." He muttered, his face burning up, and you pretended not to see it.

Your arm tucked a bit under Zuko as you helped him to move up a bit. He was too weak to eat by himself, every bone in his body aching, and every muscle strained. Of course, it embarrassed him a bit. He wanted to eat by himself and do everything you were doing for him by himself, but he physically couldn't. "Wait!" You said more to yourself as you put the steaming bowl onto the ground, rummaging through the basket until your hand grasped a small container that Ty Lee had slipped inside the basket. "What's that?" He asked as you opened the container, the smell of eucalyptus filling up the room. "It's something my mother uses when I'm sick. It's a homemade balm." You took a big glop of the balm, putting the container on the ground before rubbing it between your palms. Hesitantly you pressed one of your palms onto his chest, stopping when his muscles tensed, looking at him, but he only nodded, signaling you to keep going. You proceeded to cover his chest and back with it, covering him with a blanket. "Is it supposed to get warm?" Zuko panicked a bit as his eyes tried to find yours, but you were busy cleaning your hands. Getting this into your eyes hurt like a bitch. "Yes, that's the whole magic." You grinned, before taking a seat on the bed with the bowl, as you started spoon-feeding him. 

The more Zuko's eyes laid on you, the more he felt himself falling. Falling for you. He wasn't sure if he wanted this, you made him feel warm, happy, and everything he wasn't without you. But the thought of you leaving someday, taking those feelings with you, shredded his heart. On the other hand, Zuko always expected the worst. Zuko never knew anything else than the feeling of anger, of forced narcissism to hide his vulnerability and pain behind, and loneliness. But seeing you giving a part of your day solely to him, to make him feel better, made him feel things he couldn't describe even if he wanted to. He also figured you probably weren't feeling the same things he did, and Zuko wondered maybe if he wouldn't have wanted to play that stupid prank on Azula if you both would've met on good terms.

"Did you brew that yourself?" Zuko asked out of curiosity as you got the teapot out of the basket, filling it into a mug you had found inside Zuko's bedside table. "Oh, god no. I wouldn't know how to brew tea correctly if my life depended on it." You chuckled before holding the warm, still steamy mug out for him. After the soup, he had regained some strength and had insisted on drinking the tea by himself. After a lot of arguing and 'don't come crying to me if you spill it and burn yourself,' you agreed. Zuko's face twisted into disgust as he took a sip of the tea. "What the fuck is that?" "Unsweetened lemon ginger tea. I know it's awful, but it's even more awful with sugar, and it helps." You reassured him. He gave you a skeptical look, but you had gotten it, so he would down it, even if it tasted like straight-up acid. "That's where the watermelon comes in!" You grinned as you got out the watermelon, starting to cut it, and Zuko looked even more confused. "It takes away the disgusting taste of the tea, and it's refreshing." Your smile was soft as you gave him a piece of it. You were right. It felt amazing, going down his throat, and even the tea tasted delicious with it. 

"Is someone getting tired?" You smiled warmly at Zuko, kneeling beside his bed as he looked at you through half-opened eyes. "Maybe." He chuckled, tiredly rubbing his eyes. "Go to sleep I'll stay here for a bit and tomorrow you'll feel like you've been reborn." You chuckled as you rummaged through your basket, getting out the book you had asked Ty Lee to get from the library. "Is that the book you read in the library?" Zuko asked, tired eyes squinting at the cover of the book, trying to make sense of the letters. "Yes, I quite like it, and it kills time." "Read it to me." For a second, you gaped at Zuko, and he felt instant regret and embarrassment. "Never-" "Okay." You smiled, a smile that told him not to worry about it, that you didn't find his request weird. 

Zuko lifted his head, head tilted slightly, a non-verbal invitation for you to sit down and replace your thighs with the pillow. And the way he was looking at you, so lovingly, calm and innocent, you couldn't deny him anything right now as you sat down, and he made himself comfortable on top of your legs as you leaned your back against the wall, opening the book. "Where should I start?" You asked, voice soft as you looked down at him, seeing him blink slowly, as tiredness started to fill every ounce of his body. He felt safe and comfortable with you, now the drowsiness that usually hit after three hours of tossing and turning, hitting him within a minute. "I don't care." He muttered, struggling to keep his eyes open, words slightly slurred. "I just like listening to your voice."

So, you started reading aloud and even kept reading after his breaths were even, face peacefully nuzzled into the soft fabric of your pants, one of his hands tucked between your thigh and his head. You kept reading for a few more hours, in silence, sometimes glancing outside to see the sun going down. When you realized that it was too dark to read, but still not quite too dark yet, you put the book away, your gaze once again roaming over Zuko's softened features highlighted by the sun that was starting to set. He looked angelic like he did not worry about anything in the world. A faint smile formed itself upon your lips as you let your finger, just as light as a breeze, caress his cheek. Your smile widened when he scrunched up his nose, burying his face even more in your thighs. 

That was when you realized it. You were falling. You were falling hard and fast, with no way to stop it. No way to brace yourself for impact, no way to brace your heart for collision with reality. You sighed deeply, silently cursing yourself within your mind for your emotions, but when you gazed back down to him. Your eyelids started feeling heavy as you watched Zuko, heart filled with warmth. Maybe falling for him wasn't the worst thing in the world, you figured before you closed your eyes, letting yourself slip into a deep slumber. 

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you felt someone moving you, and you opened your eyes tiredly. Your eyes met with Zuko's eyes, which seemed to glow golden even in the middle of the night. You were still too drowsy to form a proper sentence, only a slurred 'what' escaping your mouth. "You seemed uncomfortable, so I moved you down a bit." He whispered, making sure he wouldn't wake you up properly. You only let out a hum of approval, eyes heavy as you made grabbing motions toward him, a lazy smile plastered over your face, and he chuckled lowly. Zuko couldn't help but smile at your behavior; you were just too adorable. With a heavy sigh, he laid down beside you, and you didn't waste a second, your head finding its way to his chest, arm wrapped over his abdomen and legs entangled. The warmth radiating from his body made it hard for you to keep your eyes open. "Do you feel better?" or at least something like that left your mouth, along with slurred nonsense, but Zuko understood you. "Yes, I'm doing better." He muttered, his arm wrapped around your back and his arm settling at the curve of your waist, and you finally closed your eyes, only mumbling a 'good' before you slipped right back into your slumber.

PROJECT LOVE DAY 4/4

"Oh my god, this is the cutest thing!" "I didn't know Zuko had a soft side to him." "This is disgustingly adorable." "Stop, you guys are going to wake them up!" "He looks so peaceful, I want to smack him." Zuko slowly opened his eyes, squinting a bit at the sun rays that entered the room before his gaze rested upon the owners of the voices. To his luck, mark the sarcasm, the whole Gaang, including Suki, stood in the room. Zuko slowly moved up, holding himself up with his elbow, before rolling his eyes, letting himself fall back with a loud groan. "You brought everyone, didn't you, Sokka," Zuko stated the obvious, you moved a bit, and only now Zuko remembered that you were in bed with him, guilt immediately making its way to his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you." His voice lowered significantly, as he looked at you, you nuzzling your face in his chest, a sigh escaping your mouth before lifting your head again as you opened your eyes. "What the actual fuck?" You whispered as your voice croaked, the only familiar face was Sokka who stood in front of the bed with a smile, a girl tucked to his side. "Did I miss something?" You muttered, sitting up, slouching as you rubbed your tired eyes, not fully comprehending what was going on. "Not really, I just walked in here and thought this was the cutest shit ever and got all of my and Zuko's friends to see that Zuko is capable of liking someone." You furrowed your eyebrows, face twisted in confusion and tiredness. "Next time you pay for that shit, I'm not doing anything for free." You muttered as Zuko sat up beside you, lucky that you weren't as mad as he thought you might be. "Mind introducing yourselves?" You asked, your eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness as you eyed the group, and everyone started talking at the same time, making you groan. "I need tea before starting with this mess." You muttered to yourself, swinging your legs over Zuko's, and you shivered a bit as your feet hit the ground, your balance slightly off. 

You walked past the group, out of Zuko's room towards your room. Ty Lee had your daily dose of caffeine, black tea. She, by far, made the best black tea you ever tasted, and you couldn't help but scrounge a cup of black tea every morning. You opened the door, seeing Mai laying in Ty Lee's bed, her clothes all over the place while she slept tightly, silent snores escaping her mouth. "Good morning." Ty Lee smiled as she walked over to you, giving you a steaming hot cup of tea, with two scoops of sugar and a splash of milk. "I see you had a good night?" You smirked, taking a sip of your tea. "Yeah, you didn't come home last night, so..." Ty Lee's cheeks were flushed while you smiled at her. "I'm happy for you, Ty Lee. But stay away from my bed, that's a no go." You warned her with a soft smile, and she smiled back, nodding eagerly. You walked back towards the door before turning back to her. "Don't you dare to go near the desk." "Maybe you should've told me that before..." "Ty Lee!"

You went back to Zuko's room, making a mental note to wipe down the desk four times before ever sitting at it again. "You guys are still here?" You asked as you saw the whole group standing in the room, Zuko's cheeks flushed as he hid his face in his hands. "What did you guys do to him?" You asked with a sly smirk, leaning against the bedframe. "We just...asked some questions." Sokka's wiggling eyebrows told you everything you needed to know. "Okay guys, get out of here. I promise Zuko will tell you everything you need to know, but right now I want steamy, hot and sweaty morning sex without any visitors, thank you, bye!" You exclaimed with a grin, shoving the group out of the door, ignoring their disapproving and disgusting sounds as you shut the door in their face, locking it. With a grin, you turned to Zuko, who looked at you, his jaw almost kissing the ground. "You just made this all way worse than it was!" He whisper-yelled as he tugged his hair, but he couldn't keep the smile hidden that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "They're too noisy too early in the morning, and they already think something is going on, so." You shrugged as you walked over to him, sitting down beside him and leaning against the wall before taking a sip of your tea. He leaned against the wall beside you, his head turning to you, and you looked at him, eyebrows raised as he smirked at you, one eyebrow raised. "Was that an invitation for sex back there?" "You wish."

Since you and Zuko didn't have a lecture today, you decide to spend the last day of your 'journey of love' together, trying to find the last little pieces that reminded you of love throughout the city. You knew it was barely any use anymore since you went over the things you perceived as love this morning, finding you had all things for it gathered. You gave it a shot anyway, letting the warm summer sun smother on your skin as you walked the streets of Ba Sing Se side by side. "Don't you have any ideas anymore?" You asked as you looked at Zuko. He shook his head. "The only things that reminded me of some kind of affection came from you, and maybe one or two things from my childhood." He admitted, and you could see the pink color that covered his cheeks as he held his head low, following you through the streets. Suddenly, a memory from your childhood struck you, and you halted in your steps before grinning at Zuko. "What is it?" His look was careful as he eyed you with caution. "I have one last thing."

"Holy spirits, y/n, slow down!" Zuko yelled, stumbling behind you as you walked through a wooded area of the third ring in Ba Sing Se. Your University was in the first ring, one of the elite Universities in the land. Still, you thought the third ring was the most beautiful, so many different people from different backgrounds with different elements they bend. To that, they still had a lot of woods in their area, a lot of nature which you were glad about. 

You came to a halt in front of an abandoned lake, the water shining in a deep blue as you looked at your reflection. When Zuko's image came into view, you couldn't help but laugh, turning to him and taking the twigs out of his hair. "You dragged me through these woods, stop laughing!" He complained with an obvious fake groan as he ran his hands through his black hair, his cheeks once again flushed. Since when did Zuko get so flustered all the time? "So, what are we doing here?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him as he looked around before following you down to the stone beach that sat by the side of the lake. "I used to do this with an old friend of mine." You grinned as you kneeled, taking a few rocks into your hands before letting them drop to the ground. "We try to find rocks that match the eyes of the other." You grinned up to him, and you knew that it maybe sounded a bit ridiculous, but it was fun, and it was a way of showing affection. It meant the other spent enough time with the other person to be able to tell their eye color without having to look at it. "No cheating!" You warned with a laugh, shielding your eyes before standing up. "Fine, fine!" He chuckled, lifting his hands in defeat before going to the other end of the 'beach'.

You spent at least forty five minutes rummaging through the different rocks when something seemed to blind you for a second, then disappearing. You furrowed your eyebrows as you walked to the water, crouching down as you lifted different rocks. Then you saw it, a few inches to the right. In awe, you picked up the stone, letting it move in between your fingers. It was perfect. It was honey-colored stone, a bit more on the gold-ish side than on the yellow side. The stone was a bit translucent, and the edges were smoothed out by the water. The stone remembered you at the night where Zuko had woken you, his eyes glimmering the exact same color in the faint moonlight. You clutched the rock inside your hand, standing up and walking over to Zuko with a sly grin. "Hey, you said no cheating!" He laughed as he looked up at you for mere seconds, before playfully shielding his eyes. "I already got my stone, idiot." You grinned, putting your hands on his shoulders. "Seriously? Me too!" He laughed, clutching something in his fist, standing upright. "I liked being taller than you for one second, and you ruined it." You frowned, but couldn't help your smile that forced its way onto your face. "Let me see your stone, come on." He grinned, but you shook your head, taking a step back. "No, I found mine first! You're going to show me yours first." You insisted, and Zuko knew he could just not say no to you. It just wasn't possible with the way you smiled at him, eyes bright with childish happiness. "Alright!" He stretched the word as he opened his fist, and you looked at the stone in awe. "It's pretty accurate." You nodded, impressed by his skills. "You probably got a black one or one covered in mud, didn't you?" He gave you a toothy smile. "Your eyes are not black, and they are not muddy!" You said, offended that he would even think such things as your hand lightly slapped against his chest. You opened your fist with a proud grin, and Zuko raised his eyebrows. "What?" You asked, confused as you looked from the stone to his eyes, and you were right, they were practically the same color. "My eyes are not that pretty." "They are Zuko! Have you ever looked into a mirror? You are pretty all over, from head to toe and even your weird little gray hair that's distracting me!" You exclaimed, outraged by his claims. "You think I'm--I have a gray hair?!" He asked, his voice furious. "Pull it out." "But it's cute--" "I said pull it, say goodbye to it or keep it in your drawer as a memory, I don't care! I'm nineteen, I'm not supposed to have gray hair!" You groaned before picking the hair, making him pull a grimace at the sharp pain, letting his hand run over it. "Thank you." "Careful, you might be getting wrinkles, honey." "Fuck you."

You and Zuko spent the rest of the day under a tree by the lake, enjoying the company of each other. Sometimes it was silent, then the air was filled with laughter and memories, then again quietness filling the air. You didn't mind. You could sit in silence with Zuko for a hundred years, and you wouldn't mind it one bit. 

Hesitantly you felt Zuko's hand brush against yours, and your heart started speeding up. You let your finger slither around his ones, lacing them with yours, and squeezing it tightly. "Is this the journey of love, y/n?" Zuko asked, his eyes focused on the sunset in front of you. You glanced at him, his face smoothed out by the deep yellow that covered almost every inch of the forest, and you couldn't help but admire him. Four days ago, you never would've thought you would be friends, and now you were sitting here, holding his hand and watching the sunset and your heart racing at an incredible speed. You sighed deeply, leaning your head against his shoulder as you admired the sunset, the color reminding you of his eyes, and you had to smile. Your thumb ran over the back of his hand, your eyes not once leaving the incredible sight in front of you, your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Zuko. It is."

[gaemkyuu]

The Fight

Warnings: none...unless couples fighting make you uncomfortable, then there’s that. A/N: Second installment to the Teagan Valencia Series! It’s not as fluffy as the first part, but it gets a little fluffy at the end. Humor me as the Proposal is fluffy and makes my inner teenager giggle. I’ll post the next installment later in the week :) Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece on Charlie Gillespie. In no way do I claim or declare that Charlie’s portrayal is accurate to real life. I do however, own Teagan Valencia :) 

Masterlist  

The Teagan Valencia Series: The Meeting  / The Fight / The Proposal / The Present / The Recovery / The Future The Fight “But Julie! You don’t understand! Would you just listen?!” Teagan never ceased to be amazed by Charlie’s acting. The man was truly passionate and put his heart and soul into everything he did. Hearing Charlie’s voice break and tears spring in his eyes, brought her back to the moment where Charlie and her really questioned whether or not being together was the best thing for the both of them... ***

After wrapping up season one of Julie and the Phantoms in Vancouver and the holiday season, Charlie found himself back in LA and Teagan back in Edmonton. She had recently gotten employed by Netflix Canada on the promotional team as an intern, hoping she could work her way up the ladder. She didn’t expect the workload and the hours to be long, but the pay was worth it. Afterall, she had been saving to pay for the numerous flights she was making back and forth from Edmonton to LA. She didn’t always get time off and even when she did there was still some work that she needed to do. It wasn’t different for Charlie either, as he was often knee deep in other projects and endeavours that he was passionate about. Both were doing their best to be supportive of the other, but they slowly started feeling the distance impacting them. 

Teagan had been down for a long weekend to visit Charlie, but knew she couldn’t completely unplug from work and spend time with her beloved. Sitting at brunch together, very little conversation was exchanged as Teagan had gotten a very important email from Head Office about a potential opportunity for her to move up in the company. This meant an increase in wage and the potential to be relocated to LA. Charlie, however, was out of the loop and quickly became annoyed with Teagan being distracted that led to an explosive conversation in the vehicle on their way back to his apartment. “It’s not just this time Teagan! Every time you come down for a “visit” you’re never really here!” Charlie slammed the front door to his apartment shut as they walked through.  “Says the person who always has to be on set or some interview or some shoot! I’m trying Charlie! I really am!” Tears flooded her eyes, the frustration that she kept to herself began to bubble over. “I’m not an actor or a celebrity or an influencer Charlie! I have a lot of work that I have to do, but you wouldn’t understand that would you? You show up for a picture and you make twice as much as me!” “Don’t turn this around and pin it on me Teagan. I’ve worked hard to get here.” Charlie's voice became dangerously quiet as he approached her. “That’s not what I’m saying Charlie-”“It’s not my fault that you don’t put nearly as much effort into this relationship as I do! What’s the point if you’re not going to try?” The words cut through her like a hot knife through butter. “You don’t think I’m trying?” she whispered, scared that she would lose her composure. “You could’ve fooled me” Charlie scoffed, plopping down on the couch, leaving her standing at the kitchen counter. A thick and heavy silence filled the space between them, as her tears threatened to fall down her face. “Fine. Say I’m not trying Charlie.” her voice was louder this time, albeit shaky, trying to maintain her composure. “The amount of overtime I work to afford plane tickets down... the countless times I told my family that you had to cancel coming for a visit because of work, when in reality you never planned to come visit me... The nights I spent alone in my apartment missing you while seeing you post pictures with other girls at a party... Yeah, I guess I’m not trying Charlie” She wished she could’ve walked away from Charlie with grace, but all the emotions that she had been harbouring began to pour out as she broke into heavy sobs and sank to the kitchen floor. Charlie, alarmed at her sudden breakdown, rushed over to her as she sobbed into her knees. He kept trying to get her to open up, but she tensed every time he tried. She could barely hear him over her sobs, frustration and sadness.  Teagan hadn’t been completely transparent with her situation back in Edmonton. Early on in their relationship, Teagan realized that her job as a retail manager wasn’t going to afford the numerous plane tickets she would be buying to see Charlie. With his unconventional schedule, he rarely had time to come visit her in Edmonton, but she could be a little more flexible and see him. Teagan had made the decision to move into a smaller apartment with cheaper rent downtown Edmonton in a neighbourhood that her parents thought dangerous. She began to decline the invites from her friends and family to go out to dinner or to the clubs. Being new to the Netflix company still meant she was at the bottom of the payscale, which paid the same amount as her retail job, but being in a position where her expenses were growing. She would go on shopping trips with friends, but never bought anything. Friends and family began to criticise Charlie for taking advantage of her and making her spend all the money, in which Teagan was quick to defend him. It didn’t help that her mother expected her to be the traditional filipino housewife that she was. The both of them were already feeling the strain of the distance, that Teagan couldn’t bring other problems into the relationship. If they were struggling this much just because of distance, what more if Teagan confessed her behind the scenes. She didn’t want to risk making things worse, so she kept quiet about these details, mentioning very little to Charlie and always wanting to know about how he was and what he was working on. “Teags, look at me please?” his voice was softer now. “Teagan, talk to me please?” She slowly lifted her head, not ready to make eye contact with him. Charlie kissed her forehead and held her face in his hands, forcing them to look into each other’s eyes. She could see the intensity in his eyes. He was all together apologetic, embarrassed and heartbroken, but she could tell he was searching her eyes hopefully. He wiped away another tear that rolled down her face as Teagan took a deep breath, steading herself for what she wanted to say next would be difficult. “It’s been so hard without you. I didn’t want to tell you anything because I already felt like we were struggling... I thought that it would only make things worse...” her voice tired and sad. Charlie’s heart broke further seeing the normally bubbly and optimistic woman so defeated. To see her this way felt odd and unsettling, as though Charlie never wanted to see her this way again. He pulled her into his embrace, which she gladly accepted.  They sat there for a moment or two in each other's arms, no words exchanged between them.  Charlie moved Teagan so that she sat in between his legs, back to his chest, as he leaned against the wall of the kitchen island on the floor. His arms stayed firmly wrapped around her and she rested her head against his chest and shoulder. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just felt so frustrated and I took it out on you. I know you’re trying, but like you said, it’s been hard.” He peppered her head with soft kisses, not knowing how to bring spirit back into his lover. She sniffed quietly, wiping a tear away with her hand. “Are we holding onto something that’s not meant to last?” His body tensed behind her and she felt the tears spill over once again. Teagan braced herself for what she felt was the inevitable goodbye of this whirlwind of a romance. Optimistic Teagan couldn’t exist in this moment as she felt exhausted and broken down. Pessimistic Teagan braced her heart for the impact of Charlie’s response. But it never came. Instead, she was met with soft lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. Charlie had shifted positions in order to kiss her, giving them both the response that they needed. They didn’t need to speak as their actions spoke louder in the moment as their kiss intensified. What was meant to be soft, gentle and innocent quickly became passionate, needy and desperate. This new found intensity brought a simple kiss on the kitchen floor to the walls of Charlie’s bedroom, filling their afternoon with each other. In the early evening, as they rested in each other’s arms, basking in their emotions of what transpired, they began to discuss boundaries and goals that they would work on moving forward. Both were determined to make this relationship work and if it meant putting tangible expectations in place, so be it. To break up would mean to simply give up on each other, but they both knew that they were strong headed and convicted in their commitment to one another. It was after that fight that Charlie knew he wanted Teagan to be more than a girlfriend.