#but sometimes that’s weird!! so you can’t!!!

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations~ 49

👑Mars conjunct Venus people can either be really irresistible or repulsive to be around no in between. I feel like people either can’t get enough of them & are so attracted to them or they are very disturbed by their energy of come off as very obnoxious.

👑Venus in Aries LOVE when people are obsessed with them. They care more about making you obsessed with them than actually keeping you. They love the chase they live for it tbh.

👑Mars in the 8th house can prefer very rough sex. They have a thing for pain. They can be big masochists.

👑Pluto in aspect with the moon will love you deeper than anyone else. Especially when it’s positively aspected (sextile & trine). When they leave you will never find that depth again. You will find yourself thinking about them years later.

👑Mars in Aries people are physically so strong. Usually grew up always winning arm wrestling or running the fastest out of all your friends, was able to beat everyone in sports ect. They re blessed with incredible strength & endurance.

👑Scorpio Venus’s are the most jealous out of all the Venus signs. They do NOT like sharing their partners with anyone (even family) they are like this with friends as well. Once they fall in love with you they almost never let you go. You will always be in the back of their minds forever.

👑Saturn sextile or trine Venus in synastry is really the glue to a relationship. I’ve seen so many married couples with this aspect. No matter how much they piss you off you are always gonna want to fix it to make it work. The relationship can start off pretty slow at first but usually once it gets there it lasts a lifetime.

👑Jupiter in the 10th house people are usually very popular. Whether they are popular for good or bad (depending on your aspects) reasons they will be paid a lot of attention from the public eye (especially in Leo or Sagittarius). You have a very powerful divine presence & it’s hard for people to keep their eyes off you. The types to be nominated for prom queen/king in highschool.

👑Pisces & Capricorn in the big three can make someone be very pessimistic.

👑The hardest workers I ever seen had Aries and Capricorn in their big three.

👑You rarely see a man with a Venus in Virgo, Scorpio or Capricorn being confused about someone. Those people almost always know what they want.

👑On the other hand Pisces, Libra & Aries Venus men usually never know what they want and recklessly get into relationships they aren’t always so sure about.

👑Aquarius placements are usually into things that can be seen as “childish” or “nerdy”. For example; Video games, collecting figurines, cartoons, anime ect.

👑Libra suns can have a problem with mirroring others personality subconsciously. They can suppress their natural self’s to be liked by others more. It actually really hard for them to be themselves in social situations. They only show their true selves to those they trust deeply.

👑People are usually obsessed with getting approval from those with a Capricorn rising. You have a lot of people that look up to you & value your opinions deeply. Others naturally respect you due to your mature put together presence. You have a very powerful aura & others are more likely to yield to you.

👑Uranus in the 5th house people get turned on by weirdness. The weirder the better. They highly appreciate people who are free with expressing their quirks. They hate being around people who get embarrassed too easily.

👑A lot of 12th house placements can make you a very “lowkey” type of person. People usually forget that you are in the room sometimes. 12th house placements can make people with extroverted signs quiet. Especially if you have it in the sun or mercury.

👑Sun & Venus in Taurus women usually look really good without makeup. The more natural the better they look.

👑Saturn in the 4th house can have difficulty in expressing affection (especially with their family. Could’ve came from a household where their family often neglected their emotional well being or they weren’t able to vent properly to anyone. Mother could’ve been very cold and strict when dealing with the native. They usually had to grow up super fast & was emotionally mature at a very young age. Could be used to dealing with problems on their own making it uncomfortable to ask for help. These people usually have the hardest time going to therapy.

👑Sag moons can come off as more like an air moon. They are the most detached emotionally out of all the fire moons.

👑Most narcissists have a mutable moon sign. Or just a lot of mutable placements in general.

👑Cap Venus men can be big crash outs when they get rejected or find out their partner isn’t loyal. They take that shit so seriously they absolutely hate being embarrassed or looking stupid for someone.

👑Pisces/12th house mercury’s can struggle with having a voice when younger. Could’ve repressed what bothered them a lot because they were used to the things they said being dismissed by others. Could’ve felt like they spoke a completely different language than everyone else.

👑Venus in retrograde people usually have a lot of trauma from other women. Other women could’ve not liked them too much or it’s difficult for them to make genuine girl friends. Other girls viewed them as being “mean girls”. Felt more comfortable in the presence of men.

👑Venus square mars I’m synastry can feel uncomfortable for the Venus person. Mars person usually makes the Venus feel uncomfortable because of how strong they can come off with them at times. The mars person can act very lusty around the Venus which can scare them a little. This aspect can be common with one sided attraction.

👑Gemini suns/risings are the epitome of golden retriever energy.

👑Mars/ Venus in Taurus men prefer women who are more curvy/voluptuous.

👑Aries moons can lose interest when you aren’t giving them enough attention.

👑Libra suns almost always have nice 🍑. Almost every girl I’ve seen with a big 🍑 had their sun in libra

👑Aqua Venus’s are usually amazing friends & they tend to have a lot of them. Their friends can also fall in love with them very easily.

👑Cancer suns can either be super hilarious or so corny

[ittybittyfanblog]

quick fic/blurb idea i got from a prior reblog—

broke postgrad art student who ‘accidentally’ acquires a sugar daddy by some weird turn of events (?) non-sexual!! (…probably) but essentially, it’s just sylus throwing money at you as his primary love language lol

student loans? ✨ paid off in full ✨

electives/clubs you want to join but cost extra? don't worry about it baby girl, you're in. no questions.

materials/equipment/textbooks you need for a class? oh, look, everything you were stressing over just got priority FedEx’d to your doorstep literally the same day.

debating whether to eat that technically not-yet-mouldy week-old loaf of bread in the cupboard? well, you don't have to, because now you have fresh groceries delivered every three days at five PM like clockwork.

and yes, you get an allowance. daily. and the less you check how much is being sent to your account, the better. (for your sanity.)

maybe sylus buys you a condo near campus, too. after all, he can’t have you taking the metro late at night. unacceptable. not when his smart, very capable girl is dead on her feet after a late shift at that part-time job he still hasn’t convinced you to give up.

smart, capable, and so damn stubborn.

(he’ll just buy the building complex where the charming, little gift shop you work at is located. not that he'll jeopardize an innocent business, nor your employment, lest you get mad at him. ah, he'd figure it out. eventually.)

and he’s not trying to be smarmy about it. not in any way, or capacity, not at all, no. just the simple fact that he can provide for you—that he gets to be the reason you're able to chase your big girl dreams, do everything you want and more—already gets him off like crazy.

sometimes, though… you wonder if you’re taking too much advantage of your....... sponsor's....... generosity. it bothers you, more than a little bit. that he gets the short end of the stick, or what seems like.

so, uh, you try to give him... something in return.

the first booby pic you send him gets an immediate, resounding reply of just: “no.”

your initial, knee-jerk reaction is to be offended—(you sent that willingly, damn it.) if not for the fact that he's the first to like every selfie/photo you post on your socials, and comments stuff like, "gorgeous," "my sweet girl," and a frankly offensive, "prettiest flower out of the bunch," in every group photo you're in, like the kind of odd, senile relative who plays favorites.

(still.)

then, as soon as you graduate, you get hired. immediately.

and you know how, back in the day, artists had these rich ass patrons who paid for everything so they could literally just exist and create? yeah, that’s you now—after signing a non-renewable contract with a frankly ridiculous upfront deposit and a bond agreement that (upon closer inspection) basically states in the fine print that you're more or less ensured to get whatever you want... as long as you don’t work for anybody else.

but hey, job security is rough these days. you'd be stupid to turn it down. really, you're practically living the dream here.

(you just find it kinda weird that page 46 of the document looks suspiciously like a prenup agreement—wait a damn sec, what's this about marriage now–)

[luvbinnies]

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable. 

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building. 

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media. 

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has. 

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index,  hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes. 

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours. 

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months. 

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him. 

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them. 

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault. 

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution. 

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to. 

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly. 

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil. 

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care. 

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands. 

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his  stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug. 

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything. 

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away. 

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then. 

So now you hold on to that damn pencil. 

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday. 

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to. 

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly. 

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don’t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. 

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying. 

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it. 

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do. 

But he does.

He always does. 

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page. 

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.” 

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble. 

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance. 

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out. 

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns— 

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing. 

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar. 

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners. 

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists. 

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen. 

 The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His. 

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. 

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze. 

Sunghoon had turned in his seat. 

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other. 

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised. 

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day. 

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: yn@beliftuniversity.com

To: parksunghoon@beliftuniversity.com 

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done. 

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not  even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates. 

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game. 

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it. 

He doesn’t hit send. 

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder. 

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin. 

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor. 

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face. 

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today. 

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses. 

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold. 

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin. 

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents. 

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more. 

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered. 

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you. 

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project. 

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time. 

—

Two year ago

 It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started. 

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race. 

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone. 

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable. 

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it. 

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all. 

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something. 

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken. 

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed. 

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself. 

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. 

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened. 

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always. 

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it. 

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet. 

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin. 

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out. 

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted. 

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks. 

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past. 

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else. 

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon. 

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you. 

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking. 

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out. 

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. 

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself. 

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical. 

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged. 

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right. 

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name. 

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him. 

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too. 

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again. 

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid. 

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is. 

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate. 

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat. 

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for. 

But you can’t. 

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you. 

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well. 

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss. 

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you. 

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best. 

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him. 

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression. 

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer. 

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it. 

Because he knows.

Because he did leave. 

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all. 

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid. 

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls— replaced by something softer, something sadder. 

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills. 

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle. 

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers. 

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished. 

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him. 

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line. 

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over. 

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights. 

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge. 

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?” 

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky. 

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.” 

-

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

[revelboo]

Some more Scavengers when the mood strikes you? :)

Sure!

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 20

Scavengers x Reader

• “I’m sorry. Did you say that you tricked Spinister into agreeing that Tiny is community property?” Krok growls, feeling exhausted as he frowns at Misfire. Trying to figure out how he’d convinced their very confused medic that this was for the best. And you’d just gone along with it apparently. Hadn’t bothered to contradict Misfire and he’s not sure what to make of that either. Except that maybe you’re interested. In Misfire at least. Fulcrum might be a good match, the mech always gentle with you, afraid he’s going to break you. But him? Even if he might privately entertain those thoughts, he knows the odds of you actually taking an interest in him as more than a protector are pretty slim. Not when there are more eligible mechs around.

• “Hey, I’m just facilitating everyone getting what they want,” Misfire counters, because as much as Krok huffs and pretends he doesn’t care, he watches you. Head turning and optics following your every move like he can’t help himself. Knows Krok is interested even if he denies it. They’re all adults, cooped up on a small ship together in close quarters. They have needs. So do you. You’re probably as starved for entertainment as they are. After all, you’d fragged Spin. That has to be a move made in desperation. It’s not like any of them are after a conjunx, just some fun. What’s the harm in that? “If Tiny wants to frag the whole ship, who am I to tell them no. You want to destroy their dreams?”

• “Do you even listen to yourself?” Krok growls, but there’s no real heat in the words. Peds kicked up on his console, Crankcase glances at the closed Medbay door. You’re still in there with Spinister. Can just imagine the two of you stretched out, tangled in each other. Whispering soft things. Well, it’s Spin, so any conversation is probably all you with confused monosyllabic responses from the medic unless he’s in rare form and actually coherent. What had you seen in him? Sure, he’s not perfect either, but he can hold a conversation.

• Can’t stop picturing the way you’d looked under Spinister. The sounds. Running a hand over his helm, Fulcrum vents softly. Torn between still finding organics weird, the way your soft skin gives if his grip is too tight, and liking you, the way you smile up at him, your laughter. And they’re talking about sharing you. Like it’s a forgone conclusion that they would. That you’d belong to all of them. It’s weird, but this isn’t a normal Decepticon unit, something he’s been very aware of from the get go. They’re close, like brothers. They squabble and fight, but have each other’s backs in a way he’s still not used to.

• Watching you drink your water, Spinister vents softly, sitting back and reaching to run the tip of his servo against your spine. Relaxed and calm in a way he’s not been in a long time. Focused. Those eyes turn his way, and warmth spills through him. “Okay, Tiny?” He asks and you smile up at him, that longing in his spark to be understood spreading. Those moment of lucidity, of focus usually tied to things he knows as well as the back of his own hand and sometimes even that isn’t a certainty. Science and medicine. Those he knows. Understands. Everything else is just confusing. Overwhelming. But he also knows he wasn’t always like this and he wants to remember.

Previous

[seasprincess]

Love is in the air💘

pt.1||pt.2

Reader finally asks the question…

wc: 892

♡₊˚ ・₊ ♪ ✧ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ♡₊˚ ・₊ ♪ ✧ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

All you can think of all night is Spencer. Tossing and turning in your bed, the hours getting to ones that you shouldn’t be seeing ticking away. The soft light of the moon shines through the window onto the bed. Your pillow is covering your face, trying to block out the thought by using it as a shield.

You couldn’t be thinking these things about your coworker. Especially as you two are so close. What if you mess it all up and he hates you? What if he never wants to talk to you again? Oh god. Would you have to move sectors? No you can’t think like this. Just chill out. You’re overthinking.

But you’re not the only overthinking.

Spencer is also lying awake staring at the ceiling. He’s a guy who thinks all the time but all he’s currently thinking about is you. The way you looked today. The way that Derek started asking him about you. What did he mean by asking him that?

There’s so many thoughts running through his mind and yours. But, after what feels like an eternity, both of your eyes feel heavy and close. Sleep coming over you both.

You walk into the bullpen, coffee in hand. Vitale after last night's overthinking horrors. It wasn’t a good time at all.

You walk past everyone with a little greeting. You’re heading to your desk to check over some files before the inevitable of being called to the jet would happen sometime today. With a sigh you take a seat on the chair, the chair isn’t the most comfortable thing either. You wish you could bring a sofa or something in. That would be better.

You take a moment to gather yourself and your thoughts. Letting out a soft breath as your hand comes in contact with the stack of files in front of you. But before you can even attempt to open it a soft voice cuts you off.

“Hi.” The voice scares you a little bit but you immediately knew who it belonged to. The sweet nerdy guy who sits in the desk over.

You turn your chair to see him not in his seat but standing next to you. Wearing his usual attire. One of his cardigans which is the thing that has always stood out to you. In a good way of course. That he's comfortable to be himself here and wear clothes that others may see as ‘weird.’ Not a lot of men like that.

“Good morning.” You reply with a smile. A smile that makes Spencer’s heart flutter in ways he’s never truly felt before.

“What did you want to talk about yesterday?” Spencer doesn’t make small talk or try to steer the conversation slowly towards what was on his mind. Cause why would he do that? This is Spencer Reid we’re talking about.

And you’re you and you completely forgot that you had come up with an excuse yesterday. You had completely forgotten that you were gonna ask the man out before nerves took the better off you.

“Oh um.” You say as you begin to rub the back of your neck, silently cursing your awkward self. You look anywhere but him before your eyes lock with a smirking Derek Morgan. And you just know that smirk is a ‘ask him’ look.

And you decide that it’s now or maybe never.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to go out sometime?” You finally say as your eyes lock with his. His brown eyes soften slightly as you say that before panic sets in.

“Like on a date?” He has to clarify, not wanting to jump ahead and get too excited. He really hopes you mean as a date. He’s never been on a date before, or asked on a date and been serious.

“Yeah. On a date.” Your sweet smile grabs his heart again as he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He’s very inexperienced in the whole romance thing. He’s not like Morgan who can pick up any girl he just glances at. He’s just not like that.

So the fact you’re even showing interest in him makes his heart race. And also makes him a little sceptical. People in high school and college had asked him out before. But they didn’t go in the way he wanted or thought they would. Pranks are a common thing he’s had to deal with being the ‘weird and nerdy’ kid.

But all his worries melt away when he sees the look on your face.

Nobody has ever looked at him that way.

And he now knows. You’re serious.

“How about the weekend? If we don’t get called in of course.

He chuckles a bit before nodding. Fingers fiddling with the cardigan you were admiring earlier.

“Yeah. This weekend.” Spencer had no plans this weekend. He usually doesn’t have any plans anyway so it’s not like he hasn’t anything to worry about.

But what is he gonna wear? Where are you going to go? Does he need to get you anything?

Turns out he has a lot to worry about.

But he’s not the only one worrying.

You’re freaking out too. Thinking about all the stupid questions he’s thinking. When you should be thinking one thing.

You’re going on a date with Spencer fucking Reid.

a/n: there will be a part three as i need to write more🙏

tags: @dreamsarebig @prongs-my-dear-blog @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome

[cacospirit]

The Coddled Griffon Case

Davrin: Hey Lucanis, do you… have a minute?

Lucanis: Oh, Davrin, I… sure 

Davrin: I know we haven’t… always seen eye to eye, like, maybe I called you an abomination…

Lucanis: You did, among other things

Davrin: …and maybe I suggested that we should kill you because you’re a demon…

Lucanis: You made a strong case for it. Several times. 

Davrin: …but at the end of the day, I think we are both men that can set our differences aside when it comes to doing what’s best for the team

Lucanis: Davrin… where are you going with this

Davrin: Look… someone has been sneaking Assan extra treats

Lucanis: what 

Davrin: I know, I know! It doesn’t seem like a big deal but… it’s not good for his training! We can’t have him think he can just cozy up to anyone and get rewarded for it

Lucanis: I… sure. I will take your word for it

Davrin: And look, I’m not trying to come after anyone with torch and pitchfork here, I just… need to know who it is, so we can discuss it, as adults

Lucanis: An admirable goal 

Davrin: Right? But the thing is… no one wants to admit to it! I know it’s not any of the ones sleeping at the back of lighthouse, it’s someone out here with us. And first I figured… if it was you I probably wouldn’t have noticed in the first place

Lucanis: I like to do things discretely, it’s true

Davrin: So I talked with everyone else, and we both know that Bellara and Harding can’t tell a lie to save their life, so… it has to be Neve! But talking to her is just pointless because she’s not giving away anything, she’s like a fortress!

Lucanis: She has a certain composure 

Davrin: So… I can’t really accuse her of anything without evidence, and I know she’s not dumb enough to let me catch her in the act, but… she probably wouldn’t be looking out for you 

Lucanis: You want me to spy on Neve for you?

Davrin: It sounds bad when you put it like that

Lucanis: …would you like to put it another way?

Davrin: I would like to do that yea, I just don’t know how to

Lucanis: I feel like that should tell you something 

Davrin: Lucanis... I know that you are an honorable man, that is willing to make the hard choices for the sake of family. And we here… at the Lighthouse… we are like a family. You, me, Assan… Neve, Rook…. even that weird crab-head ghost, we’re all in this together

Lucanis: ..The Caretaker? 

Davrin: Exactly! We should all strive to be the caretakers of each other’s problems 

Lucanis: You know what... sure 

Davrin: And I know Caterina taught you that sometimes you have to be tough one the ones you love if you want them to survive

Lucanis: I’m... not really sure that applies here

Davrin: I think it does. 

Lucanis: Well  

Davrin: And look, I’m no trying to tell you what do to here, because... I trust you to do the right thing. And I don’t want to influence your decision too much but… I’d owe you one, all right? I gotta go, but just… think about it ok? No pressure!

Lucanis: I don’t think… ! *sigh* 

Lucanis: Mierda… I need a cup of coffee after this

// 

Lucanis: The griffon has too much treats…. Has… everyone finally lost their minds… or have I finally lost my mind. 

Spite: You say it like it can’t be both 

Lucanis: Spite. Rhetorical question. We’ve talked about this. 

Neve: Hey Lucanis! Do you mind if I sit down, or am I interrupting something?

Lucanis: Oh I was just… you know what, never mind. Please, Neve, go ahead 

Neve: So Davrin finally caved in 

Lucanis: He… what?

Neve: Honestly, I love that for you. You’ve come so far in your friendship that he’s willing to trust you with his dirty work 

Lucanis: Neve I… I don’t know what you’re talking about

Neve: Of course you don't. But even if you didn't know what I say that I know I still know what you'd know from what I know that he knows 

Lucanis: Neve, please, I haven't had my coffee yet

Neve: Davrin’s been trying to figure out who’s been sneaking Assan extra treats, he knows it’s one of us out here in the courtyard, but out of all the people he’s talked to no one seems to know anything, isn’t that just curious

Lucanis: It’s not the word I’d use but sure 

Neve: Of course, Bel and Lace are as opaque with their intentions as a sheet of glass, and by all reason if it was you he probably wouldn’t have found out in the first place 

Lucanis: I’m glad my talents are getting widely recognized 

Neve: Which really only leaves me, and I can’t deny that I do make for pretty convincing prime suspect for this case

Lucanis: Someone gave snacks to a bird, I hardly think this should be called a case 

Neve: But as sure as he probably is that it’s me, he can’t come accusing me of anything without evidence, because that would make him look irrational, and we can’t have that.

Lucanis: Neve, there is not a single part of this that seems rational to me

Neve: He knows he’s not gonna catch me all by himself, so what can a lone warden do but rally his troupe. He needs eyes out here in the yard, and sure Lace would be pretty handy at the task, but she’d be oh so morally conflicted about it. And even if he managed to convince Bel she would still be pretty useless. Which leaves… you

Lucanis: I wish the only way I had been left, was out of this   

Neve: I just had to keep an eye out for when he’d inevitably come crawling to you. He got the right idea about talking to you when I’m not around, but… he wasn’t exactly discrete in the way he went about it. Sometimes the way you hide something reveals more about the thing you’re hiding than if you never tried to hide it in the first place, you know what I mean?

Lucanis: I don’t think I know what anything means anymore 

Neve: Now he can’t exactly give you a contract, because he’s above that, so he has to try to convince you the comradely way. Which means, right now you are conflicted about what to do

Lucanis: Neve I'm conflicted about what to think 

Neve: Must have felt great for him to finally overcome that hurdle, being able to ask you for help. But… he did take his sweet time with, guess he had to swallow a lot of pride to get there. Which is… really fortunate for me because it’s given me plenty of time to… indulge, in other things

Lucanis: I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going 

Neve: What was the name of supplier for your fancy coffee? Eligio Mancini? Lives at the upper end of the Treviso east district

Lucanis: Yes that’s… how did you.. 

Neve: Such a great product, or so I’ve been told, I'm not really privy to it. But as it happens I do know a Tevinter noble that is just crazy about the stuff, so naturally I just had to provide them a sample. And what would you know, they loved it. Probably so much that they’d buy out the entire stock… if I gave them the name of the supplier

Lucanis: Neve are you…

Neve: Am I what?

Lucanis: …are you blackmailing me?

Neve: Am I? I’m not playing the board, I’m just pointing out where the pieces are 

Lucanis: Maker help me…

Neve: Oh The Maker can’t save you from me, you know that

Lucanis: That is definitely sacrilege… but also not inaccurate 

Neve: Well, this has been… very informative Lucanis. I gotta go but please… don’t make any decision you will regret later

Lucanis: See you tonight?

Neve: Oh for sure, love you

Lucanis: Love you, bye

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

68. a shit ton of coke (written)

prev // m.list // next

You’re turning 22. It's weird how you still feel like a dumb teenager sometimes. But this is real; time hasn’t stopped passing by and the world keeps turning every day. In theory, you’re aware of that. When it comes to real life, it’s a little more complicated than that.

You still remember your last birthday. Sunghoon was still with you, sort of. You had convinced yourself that that was the happiest you could ever be. But it wasn’t. Granted, you were happy-ish back then and life didn’t seem so bad. Living with your friends was fun, and you had the time of your life with the whole college experience like any other person. But something was missing.

Now, right in front of you with a wide smile and a beer in hand, you see what was missing. Even when you were with Sunghoon, you used to envy your brother’s relationship. Your whole concept of love and romance was built around the complicity and cheesiness you got to see when Joshua was with Dahyun. Of course, even then, you understood that all relationships are different and you didn’t exactly what they had. You just craved for something real and unconditional. And you finally found it, or rather he found you, but the details are kinda irrelevant right now.

You must´ve spent the last few minutes staring at Yeonjun. “Like what you see?” You want to take that smirk off his face.

“Absolutely!” You cup his cheeks and peck his lips. 

The man is too stunned to speak. “Don’t do that!” He tries —and fails— to hide his blush.

“I thought you loved my kisses,” your lips dangerously close to his. 

“Is that how you wanna play?” He closes the distance and you don’t even have time to come up with a witty remark. 

His lips are soft and rough at the same time. It’s a weird feeling, but an enticing one. His hands grab your waist and pull you closer. A little voice in your head warns you about how dangerous it's to be making out with your boyfriend in the middle of the dance floor, at least with Joshua so settled on keeping you guys apart for the sake of his nerves. 

It would be worth it, though. Yeonjun’s lips are addictive. However, just when you’re about to wrap your arms around his neck, the fucking tease pulls away and looks down at you grinning.

“You can’t do that to me,” you whine pouting. “It’s my birthday!”

“I’m well aware, sweetheart.” He grabs your waist and engulfs you in a hug. “But I just remembered how your brother forbade me from doing ‘indecent’ things to his baby sister, so…”

“Thought you liked to annoy him.”

“Oh, I do. But I wanna get him not to hate me,” he lowers his voice as if he were sharing a secret, “and making out with his baby sister in front of everyone is not the way to go.”

“True.” You admit half laughing.

It’s endearing, actually. Seeing Yeounjun so determined to get along with your annoying brother. Not that Hansol is not annoying, but Joshua is definitely worse.

“I love you,” you say out of nowhere. 

“I love you too,” he responds without thinking. 

The night is still young and your friends are making the most out of the open bar. Downing drink after drink, everyone seems to really be enjoying themselves. No one can blame them, though; it’s the first big party of the season after all. Of course, they’re gonna let loose a little. Some more than a little.

Hansol and Yeonjun worked together on the guest list, wanting to keep it small-ish, but somehow the place looked more crowded by the second. But no one actually cared enough to do something about it. Which you realize was the best option when you see Beomgyu and Kai talking to some girls and even dancing. Not that they don’t normally dance, but everyone knows how hard it is for them to get out of their shell and flirt without embarrassing themselves.

“Oh, my god!” You hear Ryujin’s voice in the distance and you think it’s safe to assume that she’s also witnessing how Kai is about to kiss the mysterious girl.

“That’s my boy!” Yeonjun cheers beside you. 

“Love is in the air indeed,” you say when you watch the younger male smile and whisper something to the girl’s ear. They sure look cute together.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her?” Felix lost count of how many times he’s said the same words to Minho.

“Yeonjun is gonna kill me if I as much as breathe near her,” Minho complains yet again.

“I mean,” the blonde makes a pause to finish the shot of tequila in his hand, “you did fuck up again.”

“I fucking know that!” He feels like shit.

If he’s being honest he has to admit he even considered not coming to your party. You haven’t talked to him since the day he lashed out at you and, god, does he regret it. All of the progress he made just went to shit because he couldn’t keep his mouth closed. It wasn’t even your fault, you were just trying to help Beomgyu and, ultimately, him. But he was just so hungover and you were so bright talking about some date you had with Yeonjun. Yeonjun. In the end, all this mess was because he just couldn’t stand the fact that you chose Yeonjun. Was there even a choice, though? He never even tried to fight for you. 

That’s the worst part, he’s well aware that he lost his chance. You liked him first after all. But he was stupid and trying to protect his peace. You’re a force of nature in his eyes. He couldn’t afford to let you —or anyone for that matter— destroy the walls he built to protect his heart. Yuna really fucked him up. But then again, she also fucked Yeonjun up. Maybe they do have a lot more in common than they like to admit.

He was scared and he pushed you away. And now you’re here, happy and bright… and in the arms of the man he despises the most. He wouldn´t exactly say he hates Yeonjun. If anything, he envies the way he was able to get over the drama and trauma and give himself to you. Is it really that easy? He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to fully put his trust in someone again. However, as his eyes follow your every move; the way you smile next to Yeonjun, the soft touches shared between the two of you, and the intimacy of the words no one else gets to hear; he wishes that were him.

“I lost, didn’t I?” he mutters against the glass of wine he keeps bringing to his lips without ever taking a sip.

“What?” Felix didn’t quite catch his words.

“Nothing.” He says, voice louder this time. 

“So, where’s the boyfriend?” Hansol wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings you closer to his side.

“Soobin and Taehyun wanted to do some shots,” you answer while hugging his torso.

“Are you having fun?” He asks as he guides you to the nearest table so you can chat more comfortably.

“I am!” You don’t even have to lie or pretend, “I can’t believe you managed to pull this off”

“Well, you know us,” he takes another sip of wine, “we’d do anything to see you smile.”

It’s true. Ever since you lost your parents and Joshua went against the rest of your family’s wishes to take care of you, Hansol has been there. Dahyun has also been there. Truth be told, you don’t even remember your parents, even when they were alive it was just Joshua and you. Hansol would often come over to your house to play video games with Josh, but they’d always end up attending your tea parties. As cold as it sounds, you’ve never missed your parents. Sure, you cried when they died, but they never took much part in your upbringing. That was all Joshua. And Hansol. They’re your real family.

“Thank you for always being there,” you hug him tightly. 

He must sense the shift in your mood cause he engulfs you in his arms and returns the hug just as tightly. “Anything for my little sister.”

Turning 22 sure is making you feel more emotional than it should.

While you spend some more time catching up with Hansol, Josh seizes the opportunity to corner Yeonjun and, in his words, see for himself what that fucker is really made of.

“Oh, my god,” Yeonjun’s mood sours as soon as he sees your brother approaching, “what the fuck could you possibly want?”

“Obviously, I’m not here to kiss you, you idiot.” Josh rolls his eyes at him. “We need to talk.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Yeonjun mocks his words faking a pout.

“In your fucking dreams!” he slaps Yeonjun’s arm almost playfully. “You could never pull me.”

“I did pull tour sister, though.” Yeojun taunts with a mischievous grin.

“You sure like to play with fire,” he smiles bitterly.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes, a habit he developed after being almost forced to talk to Joshua and not kill each other before your party. He grabs a bottle of whisky from the bar and walks past Joshua, just stopping when he sees he’s not following him.

“You’re not coming?” He teases. “You were the one who said we need to talk?”

“You fucker.” Josh mutters under his breath but complying anyway.

They choose to sit at a table far enough for you not to notice them but still close enough so they can get a glimpse of you every now and then. Yeonjun sits facing the crowd getting a clear view of your laughing figure doing shots with Hansol and Dahyun. He opens the bottle and takes a long sip, his eyes never adverting from you. He passes the bottle to Josh who reluctantly accepts but gives in anyway. 

“I like you,” Josh admits. Hi has a rather bitter taste in his mouth and he’s not sure if it’s from the whiskey or his words.

“Oh, my,” Yeonjun laughs cynically, “you flatter me.”

“As if.” Joshua half laughs.

“Excuse you? I’m a total catch.” He keeps joking.

“A total mess from what I heard.” Yeonjun’s heart almost stops. 

“What?” His voice is merely above a whisper.

“People talk a lot about you, Choi Yeonjun.” Joshua’s expression is unreadable. Is this it? The moment everything falls apart?

“What did you hear?” His eyes refuse to focus on the man in front of him.

“A lot of bullshit, actually,” Joshua says with a faint smile. “People talk a lot about you, but I’ve never been too good at listening to what others have to say.”

“Wh–”

“Don’t interrupt me, asshole.” Joshu’as tone is playful this time. “When some local friends found out about you and my sister they reached out to warn me. You’ve got quite the reputation, Yeonjun.”

He knows it. He’s spent the last three years living up to it. 

“I don’t care about any of that, though.” Yeonjun’s eyes focus on Joshua’s face now. “I do, however, care about my sister. Her happiness is everything to me, and you make her happy. I’ve never seen her smile as much and laugh as much as when you’re with her. So, I like you. You take good care of her and that’s all I care about. I don’t give a fuck about some fuckers’ opinions about you or your past, I trust you.”

“You really do?” Yeonjun doesn’t want to get his hopes up in case Joshua is playing some sick twisted joke on him.

“As much as I don’t want to admit it, I do. You’re good for her. You match her energy in a very weird way and you both seem to shine whenever you’re together.” He sounds sincere. “In fact, from all the idiots she’s dated, you’re the only one I’ve liked.”

“Oh, I bet you say that to everyone.” Yeonjun can’t help but say.

“You fucker.” Josh snatches the bottle from his hand.

“Does this mean I have your approval, though?” Yeonjun asks with a cocky smile.

“Of course, you idiot!” He takes another sip before standing up. “Not like you ever needed it to begin with.”

“I know, but I also know she adores you so it was really stressing me out thinking you hated me.” He admits looking at you. At some point during their conversation, you managed to get Hyunjin drunk.

“I do hate you, this doesn't change anything, Choi,” Joshua says with fake annoyance before walking up to his fiancée. 

“Oh, I’m sure of it…” 

The party is going amazing. Your friends are having fun and you even saw Josh talking to Yeonjun a couple of hours ago. This is everything you wanted for your birthday. You take yet another shot and are ready to return to the dance floor to meet your friends when you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Can we talk?” Minho’s touch is warm against your skin. A weird king weird.

“Are you gonna yell at me again?” You try to joke, but judging by the way his hold on you falters and his eyes avoid yours, he doesn’t seem to get it.

“I just need a minute.” He pleads.

“Okay…” You manage to say before following him to one of the balconies, the only one that wasn't occupied by people smoking what you really hope is tobacco. 

The moon shines bright even through the clouded sky. The cold breeze would make you shiver if it weren’t for Yeonjun’s blazer on your shoulders. Subconsciously, your hands rub the fabric against your own skin, as if trying to bask in whatever remnants of Yonjun’s scent still lingering in the piece of clothing.

“What did you want to talk about?” Curiosity is evident in your tone.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. “About the other day. I was a jerk and you were trying to help.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You say honestly. 

“Wh–”

“I mean, it’s not okay that you yelled at me. Yeonjun even wanted to fight you. And I’ll admit I was pissed, but I get that you’re going through something.” Your hand squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re good.”

“Why aren’t you mad?” This doesn’t make any sense. “Last time I fucked up you didn’t even want to see me.”

“Last time you were basically slutshaming me and badmouthing Yeonjun, deliberately so.” You clarify. “This time I know it was a response in the heat of the moment.”

“I can’t believe it…”

“What do you mean?”

“Get mad at me!” He raises his voice. “Yell at me, tell me to go fuck myself. Just– Just do something to make me feel like you give a fuck about me!”

“I do give a fuck about you, Minho,” you try to reason. “You know th–”

“Not in the same way.” He mumbles. “Not in the way that I care about you.”

Oh, no. You don’t wanna hear it. Why is this happening right now? 

“Minho, please don’t.” You almost beg.

“I can’t keep pretending,” he takes a step forward and takes your hands in his. “I have to say it, I need to know I said it.”

You can’t say anything. You want to stop him but the words just won’t come out of your mouth.

“I like you,” he finally admits, he can feel the weight on his shoulders abate. “I have feelings for you. I don’t know why or how or even when, but I have feelings for you. And I know it’s fucked up and you love someone else, but I had to say it at least once.”

“Minho–” You try to be reassuring. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I wanted you to know.” He’s overwhelmingly close now. “It’s been hell not being able to say it.”

His hand is cupping your cheek now and you can’t move. Where the fuck is Yeonjun? Minho’s breath brushes your skin and you close your eyes tightly, you wanna disappear. Is he really gonna kiss you? He doesn’t. His lips go to your temple instead. 

“I’m sorry.” He says before going away leaving you speechless.

You’re pissed and sad and you don’t even know why. Minho’s your friend —or was— and he looked so broken. But he didn’t have any right to put you in a position like this. He wanted you to be mad? He fucking got it. You wanna cry and you wanna yell at him. He’s a selfish asshole. How could he? He knows you love Yeonjun. Oh, Yeonjun. How are going to tell him? He’s gonna be so mad, but most of all he’s gonna be devastated.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” there’s that voice, the one you love so much.

You’ve missed him these past few minutes. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your system finally taking a toll on you, or the cold, maybe it was Minho’s confession. You’re not sure, but you run to his arms and bury your face in his chest. The world can keep spinning and being fucked up.

“Someone missed me,” he laughs bringing you closer to his body.

“I always miss you when you’re not around,” you say naturally. 

“You’re so cute.” He kisses your temple. 

Your eyes dart open when you feel his lips in the exact same place that Minho kissed a few minutes ago. You look up, resting your chin on his chest. “Kiss me.”

“As many times as you want, birthday girl.” 

His plump lips feel right against yours, as if they were made to kiss you. The feeling of his tongue brushing against yours grounds you. His arm snakes through your waist and holds you firmly but gently against his warm body. You can’t help but want more, need more. You pull his hair, ever so gently, and can feel his smirk against your lips.

“Getting greedy, are we?” He murmurs. 

You’re about to connect your lips again when you notice something cold against your skin. You look up and see the moon has almost disappeared being replaced by dark clouds. You feel another snowflake melt in your skin and it’s impossible to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“It’s snowing!” You announce excitedly. “Oh, my god, I love winter!

Yeonjun finds the sight so captivating. He loves it when you get excited about the most trivial things. He’s more of an autumn kinda person, but seeing you trying to catch a snowflake and laughing to yourself, he decides that he also loves winter.

“This just looks like a shit ton of coke to me,” you both laugh at Hyunjin’s drunk words. You didn’t even notice when he got there. 

You feel Yeonjun’s chin rest on your shoulder while he hugs your waist from behind. His lips brush against your earlobe, “Happy birthday, my love.”

notes:

I really tried to pay attention while writing but let me know if you find any mistakes lol

a little drama here and there

my fav couple tbh

just realized that technically they've been together for a really short time like he saw her in the 10th chapter, they met at 15, they started dating at 31, and made it official till 40.

taglist: open! (6/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd @nujeskz @jisungs-iced-americano @zeizeisjy @va1entinaa @beomgyusluver @to-toad @akindaflora @hoefororeo @mandydxndy @nyanamii @delulu4-life @thatonexcgirl @starsunoo @4lndr17 @nbjch05 @borahae-reads @mrsstayfox @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @mrsminseochoi @velvetmoonlght @night-storm7 @lilbrorufr @hyunjinstolemyheart @mangojellyyy @ihrtantn @lausnotverybright @hwangism143

[hitlikehammers]

wouldn’t it be WILD if steddie were heartbroken 💔 without each other (steve thinking eddie’s dead 💀 post s4/eddie in super intense secret WITSEC and couldn’t find steve if he tried 🫥) but they’re both actually secretly making 🎶music🎶 ABOUT EACH OTHER & THEIR BROKEN HEARTS?!?!?!????

…and both of them are hearing it?

Today for @steddielovemonth y’all are going to be subjected to a very indulgent snippet for a fic I have about a million words of headcanon and backstory for, but can never be allowed to write.  EVER.  Quick summary for the context: post S4, Eddie’s whisked away for treatment and healing and then given a new identity so everyone who ever knew him thinks he’s dead. This is not appreciated by Eddie at all bc he thought he and Steve were…that they had a ✨SPARK✨ He eventually settles; finds musical success in paving the way in some metal-adjacent genre fusion (can’t outright be as he was, ofc, he is IN WITSEC) Weird, then, when a masked, intentionally anonymous and deeply private metal-fusion-y group (think 🎵🎸Ghost meets Sleep Token🎵🎹) start climbing the charts to encroach on join his territory. Extra weird that their lyrics are all about either metaphors that only barely hide viscerally-disturbing violence that sometimes ping Eddie’s nightmares a little close to home, or even more often: love. Lost love. Lovesickness because of the lost love.  So much love. Again: weird.  The fact that the lead singer reminds Eddie of Steve from the first roll of his hips onstage means nothing; to this day, everything reminds Eddie of Steve.

rating: t ♥️ my only remaining note is to encourage that you listen to the link in the prompt 🎶

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: 🎵 I wanna dance with somebody - Sleep Token

Eddie had done the calculus in this head. No one had seen him in public for years, now. He’s far from Hawkins, and the government locked the truth down hard: there hadn’t been coverage that went widespread. He’d fought them on the whole fucking thing as soon as he was conscious and understood they’d taken him to treat him, but had no intentions of letting him go back.

Disappearing under interdimensional-WITSEC was one thing. One already unacceptable thing he never agreed to. But…when he found out everyone thought he was dead?

That…that—

Even take out the way things had, like, Eddie could have sworn there was something real sparking between him and Steve—not just because the way he held himself back from kissing him goodbye luck, good luck when they split up in that last stand would not have been their first, Eddie’d gotten actual proof that all the taffy-thick tension and the fucking looks weren’t just things he was weighing up with his own want in the shape of Steve’s lips on his own. In the knowledge of what Steve Harrington fucking tastes like.

It was an all around dick move, is the point.

And he misses his people. His friends.

For the way he’s yet to pass a day without thinking of Steve: he misses the man he was already most of the way in love with.

But that’s how it ends up even being a question: can he risk leaving the house and entering a place so crowded and contextually ‘risky’ as a fucking concert.

He sells it mostly as market research, rather than him just trying to the fuck out of the house. It can be both, really, but in reality? It’s not a threat to him directly—sure as shit couldn’t convince his G-man handler out the gate to try and be a metal musician the way he’d always wanted to, but he’s found (not easily, <i>not</i> easily) a way to weave genres so he’s as unrecognizable now in his discography as he’s been forced to be physically: scruff on his cheeks, head always covered in some absurd new hat, part of the bit, part of how he gets away with being too lazy, still to maudlin to keep his hair shorn tight—he needs something to tear at on the worst nights or he will fucking lose what laughable grasp on sanity he has left, so.

But the whole multi-genre thing’s kinda his corner. So he tells himself that’s the real reason he’s here. At this show, in public. For a metal-adjacent fusion act that’s rocketing up the charts for their cross-genre innovations, not to mention their rip-your-heart-out approach to lyrics.

So maybe part of Eddie’d come to size up the competition in person, seeing as these motherfuckers are the gods of anonymity—paint and masks like KISS on steroids, but a little flair of mystique, like robes and veils and just…drama that walks the tightrope of being too much in a way that’d ruin it, that’d take them down hard just as they’re still on the rise but they…they manage it.

Fuck if Eddie knows how, walking in to the venue that night.

By the encore, though, now?

Well, shit.

They don’t talk on stage—Eddie’s heard they don’t talk at all, the bare number of interviews they give all being written exchanges, save for who he thinks is one of the two fucking drummers, but they use some kind of voice alternation like they’re the motherfucking FBI and this is Deep Throat calling. Eddie gets that it adds to the drama, but also their claim to not want the attention on themselves, only their music: good or bad. And if that’s honest, Eddie can respect it.

And in person, after this: he can certainly respect the effect that it has on the music itself in how it’s received on the ground, Jesus.

The whole thing is a well oiled machine made of human fucking emotion, which is kind of goddamn absurd. But the impact, the fact that it works, feels like it’s mainly credit to the lead singer—he’s got a code name thingy but fuck if Eddie remembers it; fuck if Eddie remembers anything with that figure, not even a face, but that body mostly hidden by paint and a robe he could swear had a twin he used for Hellfire in the old theatre room—but the lead singer. He’s conducted the stage for the whole fucking show less like a director with their annoying pointy stick and more…more half like a king, but higher, a nameless deity, and god-emperor with no face but then at the very same time, leaping in like a battle master, a general rallying troops he will die for before he loses, and so will push them past the brink to keep them safe, no matter the costs. He seems to push himself the hardest, by far.

Maybe too far.

There’s a danger in the whole display, that way—something spellbinding; riveting. It grasps Eddie from the inside, those big hands on the microphone reaching to squeeze his heart and stroke his lungs as much as to stroke something lower, lower, harder—

Fuck. Well.

Here he is. And if the lights weren’t still down, he’d think the set was over.

But then Mr. Lead(-me-down-a-dark-alleyway-and-have-your-way-with-me) swaggers back on from the wings, to the kind of insanity, the pitch of screaming and applause that Eddie thinks requires ear protection all on its own. And the Lead has been keeping the crowd in order as much as his band, the mastermind behind the offensive, with the protective drive he exudes, this weird feeling like he’s…proud when the fans move and sway and push and break and sing and sob—like they matter. Like he cares, without saying a goddamn word.

Now he hold his hands up: peace, still, quiet, and they obey. Everyone. It’s…uncanny.

A piano appears behind him, and anarchy unfolds again in an instant.

Eddie noticed a lot of piano, especially from the Lead-man, and how it’s been used in unexpected ways, especially with the doubled-up drums, hell, the multiple players on various instruments, the way they’ve put together an orchestra without it sounding forced or overcrowded, pretentious or unnecessary.

The lone figure walks toward the edge of the stage, away from the baby grand, and tilts his head, extends a hand again but only one this time—it quiets but doesn’t wholly quell the noise and then he shifts his body weight, a hand settling on his hip; his judgement playful but powerful.

Everyone is silent again. Eddie is…fucking floored.

The Lead waits, surveys every inch of the crowd in a way that feels like he actually sees everyone from behind his mask, Eddie included, and isn’t that a thought for lonely night in the near future, goddamn.

Eventually, though, he nods, satisfied with..something, and struts to his piano.

Eddie is left in those moments being too fixated on how unsatisfied he is by comparison, in very specific ways, until the keys ring out.

Like starlight. Like drops made of angel tears or some shit.

And then Eddie recognizes the song.

It’s all over the fucking radio—the original—so much even he can’t avoid it, but in truth he doesn’t really want to. Whitney is a massive fucking talent and the song’s catchy as hell.

But this man. This man.

He’s reshaping it into something deeply other.

And maybe later Eddie will marvel at how the song’s being reimagined, at the technical level. Will pick apart the genius, wonder at the inspiration of transforming what’s on the charts into this.

But for now he can only watch. Jaw dropped. People around him are actually crying for the feeling in this man’s voice, spare and personal and otherworldly—and Jesus H., Eddie feels fucking close to tears himself, what the actual fuck.

He doesn’t play the whole thing—ends. Stands. Bows. The crowd erupts on a delay as the Lead’s mostly out of sight. Eddie…

Eddie is still stuck on what he just witnessed.

Mainly—unexpectedly—the words.

He says man, like the radio version: need a man who’ll take a chance—

Which could mean nothing. Could just be respecting the masterpiece as written.

But then Eddie, replaying it all in his head, doesn’t think he’s making up that the Lead on stage just now failed to change up the lyrics, as the original did intend in one specific place.

He’s clear about the call of his loneliness. Fuck, half their songs make that real clear. But.

He never once sang this song—picked deliberately, crafted so elegant and raw—but never once did follow the original and sing about his lonely heart.

But again.

Could just mean nothing.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

[impactrueno]

Dude I just read the last ask you responded to and I just feel the need to ask you, are you okay? Sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable at all, but I can’t help but be worried. I unfortunately know all too well about the struggles of social anxiety and correct me if I’m wrong but it seems like it’s been really hard on you. (Btw I know this is probably weird to hear from a stranger on the internet so I’m very sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but in case you need to hear it, things will get better even if it doesn’t seem like it will right now :) 🫶)

generally i guess i am okay. right now at this moment i am okay. a couple of weeks ago i was not okay. sometimes i am very much not okay. last year i hit rock bottom and was passively suicidal but i've been feeling much better since, largely thanks to redirecting my focus to creating beetlejuice content. my first au was done as some sort of self therapy to cope with depression and i would love to get back to it after i finish the comics i want to finish.

i say all this but i really don't want people to worry about me. i guess i just want people who feel similarly to know that they're not alone.

i appreciate the concern though, thank you. i agree, things will get better. eventually.

[gvshing]

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─PRETTY GIRL DEALING─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

(warning for weed usage and dealing!!) (Lots of fluff and a slightly steamy kiss :)) pt 3. pt 4. masterlist

⊹₊⋆CHAPTER FIVE⊹₊⋆

The day passes by painfully slow. Lectures run long, because of course they would. All you or Ellie could think about all day was seeing each other. Unfortunately for the both of you, it’d be even longer after lectures ended before you were reunited. With schoolwork you needed to finish preventing you from coming earlier. Ellie, being the little nerd she is, had finished her schoolwork earlier that week. She had to sell ‘product’ on her end. 

Time trudged on and on. The clock ticking in the distance and faint knocks on Ellie’s door every now and again was the theme song of the evening. You waited for Ellie’s all clear text to signal you could ditch your 10 pages essay for another day. You almost finished it when she finally texted you. A thought of finishing and then heading her way passed through your mind for a second, just one, before you brushed off the absurd thought and headed her way. Stepping out of your door, a wave of anxiety crashes over you. In an instant you’re second guessing your choices. I mean sure, it seemed she was reciprocating your flirty nature. There’s a chance she’s just being nice, or thinks you’re doing it as a friendly thing. Sometimes friends flirt as a joke and for fun. That happens, right? Nerves build with each step. You gnaw on your fingernails and drag your feet. You can’t do this, can you? Maybe you can.

Arriving at her door, you stood there for 2 straight minutes willing yourself to knock. You raise your hand to tap against the wood and it swings wide open. Ellie standing there, wide eyed. Body language seeping awkward surprise. “Oh! I thought someone was out here…” she trailed off. “How long have you been out here? Did I not hear your knock? I’m so sorry.” You shook your head rapidly, hands waving dismissively. “No! I didn’t knock…I haven’t been out here long…” You’re almost whispering at this point. Stomach turning with anxiety. You started your day off with thoughts of how you wanted to kiss her. But, now that you’re standing in front of her, now that the time is here, you’re unable to fathom doing such a thing. You don’t want to ruin this friendship with her. You tried to reason with yourself the whole way here that if she doesn’t think of you like that, she’d let you know and you both can go back to what you were previously. Whatever that was. But nerves still settled deep in your chest.

You walked into Ellie’s room, hands attached to your tote bag in a fierce grip and your eyes glued to the floor. “Are you okay?” Your head snaps up to Ellie. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, I’m just feeling a bit…” You didn’t finish your sentence before Ellie stepped closer to you, placing the back of her hand on your forehead and then each cheek. “You don’t feel hot… So I don’t think you’re sick,” She takes a step back and leads you to sit at her desk chair. Unaware of how her action left you chasing shallow breaths. “Are you feeling anxious? Did something happen?” Worry laces her voice. You can see her chewing the insides of her cheeks, the muscle deflated from the teeth sucking it inwards. Brows furrowed, small lines etched across her forehead. You shake your head at her, in hopes to ease her worry. “I’m just feeling off today. I promise I’m okay, it’s been a weird day.” She hesitates momentarily and then nods, moving away from the desk. She plants herself on the bed and puts her elbows on her parted knees, leaning into the palms of her hands. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk, alright?” You smile shyly and nod whispering a thank you. “I missed you, by the way.” She grins at you as if, with that statement, she didn’t just make your heart race 10x faster. “I missed you.” A mutter leaves you and you’re blushing, looking away from her. She glances at her bedside table and then back at you. “Want to smoke?”

An hour later you’re both feeling the effects of the green plant and your anxiety has loosened up. “God, I’ve had so much fucking homework lately, dude.” You are exasperated. She can hear it in the way you sigh with a groan tagged onto the end. You’re laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, arms thrown under your head keeping it propped up. She laughs at you and elbows you. “I can always help you, silly.” Your eyes roll so far back they almost roll out of the socket. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you can, nerd.” You joke. “I don’t want you to have to do that.” She groans dramatically. “I don’t mind! I’m literally the one offering! Seriously, I’ll help you anytime. It’s the least I can do for my favorite client and the prettiest girl.” You cackle loudly, shying behind your hands. “Stop! You’re hilarious. I’ll think about it.” She runs her hand through your hair gently. Feeling the soft strands between her fingertips. You hum at the sensation and close your eyes, hands now resting above your heart. “I appreciate the offer.” You mutter so quietly Ellie almost doesn’t hear you. She smiles down at your content face. “You’re welcome. I’m not kidding.” You snorted quietly. “I know, I believe you. Help anytime, I’ve got it.” You said with a hint of sarcasm. “No, well yes. Help anytime, but I was talking about you being my favorite beautiful client.” Your eyes flutter open, direct eye contact is instantly made. Smiles are exchanged. And your chest is on fire. Ellie mutters a quiet ‘hi.’ You return her greeting. Your eyes dart at her lips and then quickly away to stare at a wall, heat rising and spreading across your face. Ellie breaks the silence. “Can I show you something?”

Ellie’s layed on her stomach directly next to you. Pressed tightly against your side. She has her sketchbook, the mysterious sketchbook, opened flat against the cushy surface. She’s flipping through it at a fast determined pace, clearly looking for something in particular. “It’s not completely done, but I wanted to share it with you. I…” She let her voice drift away. “I’m sure it’s great, Els. I’m flattered you want to show me something so personal.” She glances at you. “I like when you call me that.” You side eye her. “I’ve heard Dina call you that so many times… It’s not like it’s a new nickname I thought…” You murmur. “I know. I like how it sounds coming from your mouth more though.” a faint smile paints your face and you’re leaning into Ellie, bumping her shoulder. “Show me.” She sighs shakily and turns the page once more, revealing a portrait. A portrait of you. A small gasp escapes your throat. “That’s… Is that me?” You whisper. She nods at you, inspecting your face instead of her drawing. “Ellie, that’s amazing. That looks just like me. I-” You cut yourself off, unable to muster words that could display your feelings correctly. Tears brim your eyes. Emotions flood you, she really drew you. That is what she was drawing, you knew it, but you wouldn’t let yourself believe it. Your brain can’t fathom that somebody would think about you so often or with such care that they would draw you. To take time out of her day to delicately scribble these lines on a page, to care about you this much, is overwhelming. What do you say when someone does something so thoughtful? “Thank you, Els. You made me look beautiful.” A tear fell down your cheek. You quickly wipe it away and grin at her, eyes closed so she can’t see your teary eyes. “You’re always this beautiful, I just put it on paper… But thank you for liking it and thinking it’s good. That’s sweet of you. I just couldn’t stop seeing your face in my mind, so I just thought jotting it down would help…” Her tone feels unsteady, like she wasn’t sure what to say, like she was afraid to say the wrong thing.

You lean your head over to her, resting it on her shoulder at a weird angle. You stare at it for a few more beats before directing your attention to Ellie’s face. She feels your eyes on her and looks over to meet your eyes. You give her a close mouthed smile and glance at her lips quickly to see she’s giving you the same small smile. She mimics your darting eyes. “Is it okay if I kiss you? Maybe?” She whispers. You stare up at her wide eyed. “Please.” You murmur back. She leans forward and rests the palm of her hand lightly on your cheek. Your lips collide in a hesitant and tentative kiss. It’s awkward and perfect. You both grin into the kiss and you eagerly push back into her sweet and soft lips. Your body is buzzing all over, you can barely contain it. She pulls back and laughs breathily. Foreheads rest together and heavy breaths are shared in unison. You can feel it fanning against you in an almost rhythmic fashion. She quickly sits up and you follow her lead. Sketchbook forgotten and kicked somewhere neither of you know. Now facing each other, she grabs your face in a rush and pulls you towards her once more. Your lips brush against one another before you’re devouring each other once again. The feathery kiss turns heated fast. Becoming sloppy and aggressive, she pulls you into her lap. You straddle her legs, sitting in her lap. Her hands now trail down your body, landing on your hips. The rough texture of your shirt is bunching underneath her wandering hands. She tugs you in closer and tightens her grip on you. Your arms are thrown around her neck, pulling her into a hug, almost. Slowly they snake their way into her hair, tugging the strands lightly. She groans into your mouth and glides one of her hands back up, grasping the back of your neck. She grasps the base of your neck and locks your head in place with her grip. Surprised at her sudden confidence, you gasp slightly into her mouth. Allowing her tongue to slip into your open mouth. You both continue to kiss heavily, able to taste the other’s minty breath. Hands wrapped around chunks of the other's hair, you both pull away and breathe heavily. Trying to catch your breath. She presses a few more kisses across your face and rests her forehead back against yours. You detach your heads and look up at her shyly. “You’re so pretty.” She says in a low tone. You smile and shove your head into her chest, shying away from her compliments. She wraps you into a hug and holds you tightly against her. You listen to her heartbeat for a minute or two before anything is said again. “Want to stay the night? I don’t want you to go. Might be nice to have a cuddle buddy tonight.” She murmurs in your ear. You nod against her and she throws you both down into a lying position on the bed. You giggle erratically. “Let me get the lights first, Els!” She pouts as you stand up and frolic to the door to flick the light switch. “God! You’re so dramatic! I’m coming right back! I don’t want to wake up with a headache, sorry!” You elongate your sorry theatrically and flop back down onto her bed. She wraps herself around your torso and pulls you into her, making you be the small spoon. You giggle at her and nestle yourself into her warmth. “Goodnight, Ellie.” You say softly. She mutters a goodnight into your back and grips you tighter for a second to exaggerate her nightly farewell. You both drift off with goofy smiles plastered against your faces. Both feeling content and happy, neither of you are sure what this meant, just happy to be here with the other. Comfortable with the idea that whatever this is, is good. It’s worthwhile. Knowing that you both care about the other, that you both have feelings for the other. And that was enough. For now.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

I hope this doesn't sound too rushed or anything. I hope you enjoyed!! Thank you for reading !!

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I wonder if there is a version of Dark!Ford that just keeps Stan as a cat? Like, I know you made something similar, but like, this Ford totally knows 100% Stan is the cat. He just decides it’s easier to keep it that way.

Like, he can have his brother close and his brother can’t exactly go anywhere because everyone knows that he’s Ford’s cat. Ontop of that Ford gets cat snuggles.

I imagine this Ford realized when Stan was trying to write/morse code his name, he just also realized he both really likes cats and missed his brother. And has crippling abandonment issues that border on obsession.

I don’t think this Ford would work with Bill or take over the world. He mostly just doesn’t want to let his brother leave him. He’s unhinged and a little obsessed, but he doesn’t necessarily want to hurt anyone or Stan unless necessary.

I think it would kind of go the thirty years route, where Stan just accepts it. I don’t think he’d realize him staying this way was intentional or anything, mostly due to denial. I also think he wouldn’t really realize how creepy Ford could be. Just sometimes his brother would get this weird look in his eye while holding him…

As Dark Ford’s go, I think he’s rather tame. I think he’d realize Stan and him both only seem to get along when he’s a cat so he’s afraid of bringing Stan back just to ruin it and have his brother leave him. Plus, he’s never felt less lonely, and he doesn’t want that to go away.

Ford, realizing he loves cats and misses Stanley: What if I squished the two together. Permanently.

Stan: Wow, Ford must have gotten real stupid since the last time I saw him if he can’t read his own twins name, cat paws or no.

Or, in 2012 when Dipper and Mabel visit:

Dipper: Why is Nikola still alive????

Ford, sweating: I. Uh, Um, accidentally made him immortal with science???? Definitely, totally happened.

Dipper: …’ight, checks out.

Stan, both confused about the lie and also disappointed that Dipper bought it:…

I could definitely see a dark Ford going that way. Keeping Stan as a cat, not because of Bills influence, but because he doesn't want to risk his current relationship with his brother. Knowing his cat is Stan but that if he turned him human then he'd lose the closeness that they currently have.

Because a cat won't argue with you, or fight you, or leave you. Cats are dependent on you, Ford feeds and takes care of Stan, so there's no reason he'd leave and this way Fords not lonely or angry with Stan. And as time went on Stan would try less and less to get Fords attention, because he also wants a close relationship with Ford, even if he thinks Ford doesn't know it's him.

I think he'd get worried that Ford actually made him immortal somehow when he wasn't looking. From his point of view that's more likely then Ford lying about knowing its Stan.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Stede doesn’t abandon community…

The pirate cultures of Zheng, Low, and Blackbeard (plus Izzy’s brief stint) all work via closed systems. Closed systems control by a specific set of top-down rules with little acceptance for spontaneity or individuality. Systems external to the unit are viewed with suspicion and resisted (Izzy’s resistance to Stede’s way; Zheng’s ‘join us or die’). It’s not surprising. They all likely grew up in closed family systems and replicate that in their adulthood through the culture of the ships they run. It also just… makes sense. It’s how countries are run, empires. People at the top create the rules, everyone else obeys or else.

Which is what makes Stede’s way so unique.

He does something amazing. Something entirely different it seems without reference or blueprint other than having a Big Think About It.

Because Stede absolutely grew up in a closed-family system. There was no room to be anyone other than his father’s replicant. And when that clearly wasn’t going to be the case, he is abused for not conforming, letting the side down. He also lives in a society which is a closed system - white patriarchal hegemony - and finds himself bullied as a child, and then trapped as an adult, within its tight behaviour rules.

And then he asks ‘What if it weren’t like that?’

When Ed first lands on the Revenge, and sees this ‘bunch of wild characters on the high seas’, he is struck by their lack of conformity. Sure, everyone appears to be wearing rope (hyperbole), but it’s not a directive, it’s idiosyncrasy.

However such behaviour coupled with spontaneity cannot be comprehended or tolerated by Izzy - the poster boy for closed-family systems - and he perceives it as an existential threat. Ed though catches the bug immediately with his joy at Stede’s curios and ‘Wanna do something weird?’ Yet some days even Ed can’t keep up. There are few rules. Just decide on a whim we’re going on a treasure hunt. Everyone’s just wandering around doing their own thing that day…

This is what open family looks like. Members are interdependent, but each able to maintain their own identities, and explore who they are. Stede never gets involved in the minutiae of interpersonal relationships on the ship. And the crew have a voice, but there is also accountability. Stede chastises in-fighting amongst the crew, and redirects or models a better way. It’s sometimes flawed, but it’s never punitive and there’s a culture of forgiveness.

Just look what Stede gave to the crew of the Revenge, even in his absence…

At the end of season 2, Stede doesn’t abandon the crew. In an open family you can leave and still be part of a wider community. Despite physical separation, Ed and Stede are still part of that community because they choose to be, and because they live by the same philosophies. This is what an open family looks like. The crew leave via their own agency, but take Stede’s ethos with them. And it’s not a dogmatic ethos. It’s a living, fluid thing. Stede has given his crew the tools to build their own community their own way.

Here’s the thing about closed families - you can never leave. Or be different. Or assert your own needs. It’s viewed as betrayal. I wonder if that’s what’s upsetting some people into thinking the crew of the Revenge have been abandoned, because they think community is about physical distance. You can be abandoned by people in very close-proximity - Ed learned that the hard way via Izzy.

Stede hasn’t abandoned anyone. In the very first episode he talks about helping the crew grow as people. They have grown to the point where they don’t need him in the same way as before. He basically says Here, take my ship as yours, and go live what I taught you. That’s not abandonment, that’s empowerment.

[souldink]

Brief overview of Quackitys astrology chart

-

(warning: I’m not an astrologer, I’m a starter, I read in whole sign, I always will. These are VERY BASIC observations, I could’ve went into better detail, I didn’t.)

-

Alexis Quackity is a famous Mexican internet streamer who was known for his raiding back in like 2016-2017. He’s more known now for being an ex DSMP member and the owner of a server QSMP, he now works on a translator for the use of bringing community’s together. He’s bilingual speaking both Spanish and English. Nuf said let’s start…

-

This is his chart…and according to google he was born at a certain time…so can’t be to sure this is right but we gon roll w it..?

Let’s start with his big three,

He has a Capricorn rising and sun, having the same sun as your rising really gives off a “what you see is what you get” vibe. He keeps it real but he’s also a private person. He’s hard working and it shows.

Sun in the first..His dad could’ve been a big thing in his life, or he cared about his dad and wanted him around. His suns in the first house and that can make his dad a first priority. His dad could’ve also been hard working.

He himself with a sun in the first is a born leader, he could even be a little full of himself sometimes.

His moon is in Aquarius, (Eminem has this to which I talked about in my last post) and people with Aquarius moons tend to have outbursts of emotions. He could try to use logic when it comes to how he feels. He could like to observe his emotions and what he’s feeling rather then fully indulge in them. He could feel misunderstood a lot when it came to how he felt. He could feel detached when it comes to emotions and feelings. This is one of those placements that will be like “I don’t give a fuck” and then cry about it for a whole month. (His moons at a Scorpio degree so best believe..) he’s very intellectual and smart (if underdeveloped he could’ve been closed minded)

Now his moon is in the second house, probably should’ve mention this but moon is how we process emotions, having it in the second house could mean when he’s upset, his bank is to. He could spend a lot of money on himself (or others) when upset.

He has a moon square mars, his relationship with women growing up could’ve not been well. I notice men with this either respect the living hell out of women and or disrespect them.

Moon in Aquarius for his mom. his mother could’ve let him do whatever the hell he wanted, let him have a lot of freedom. This really depends on if he had a bad relationship with his mother or a good one but she could’ve been very detached to him and his emotions as well. His mom could’ve been a very unpredictable person. (Aquarius moons give bipolar) his mother was probably more of a friend than a mother.

-

OBSERVATION TIME :3

-

His mercury’s in the first house: he’s got an over active mind, (over thinker placement for sure) always wanting to learn new things. Charming placement as well! I’m sensing a little bit of dark humor as it’s in the 8 degree as well.

He has a Uranus in the 2nd house, money could come and go for him (esp as a streamer) one day he’s bankrupt the next he’s rich. He could like weird foods as well.

he has a Venus in Aquarius in the second house, Venus is all about pleasures, our romantic relationships. he could like to be friends with someone before dating them, he could be very detached from love as Aquarius is also ruled by Saturn. He in the beginning won’t be very clingy or dependent he will value independence. He could be a gift giver/ really like being spoiled.

His venus squares his Saturn, this dudes poor ass love life..I can see he wants to be with someone he trusts. he has a cancer in the 7th house, he’s a very sweet boy in a relationship, could like staying home. Reminds me of baking dates.

He has a libra MC, He could be viewed as very handsome to people, very attractive, feminine and pretty. people could be interested in who he’s dating or messing around with..

His 11th house is in Scorpio, his fandom could be obsessive over him and not to mention his mars is in Scorpio as well. we can see this man has a lot of sex appeal. his fandom could become obsessed with him, what’s up with him, what fucking food he ate for lunch yesterday etc etc(so could his friends in some cases)

He could be very private when it comes to revealing things about himself(esp that cap rising)

Now he could also wonder about the physiological state of people anyway, he could want to know why people act this way, what triggers them to act that way? What triggered them in that moment to make them do that? Things like that. Very observant individual. (He could also care a lot about what his friends think of him)

(I have a Pluto in the 11th house I’m the same way)

He has a mars in Scorpio in the 11th house his friends could be mainly male or tomboy even, masculine.

His anger runs deep, now let’s not forget he’s a water mars I notice a lot of water mars people (ESPECIALLY CANCER SORRY NOT SORRY-) cry when they’re mad.

Alex with his mars in Scorpio tells me he’s a very ambitious, (these people a lot of times do a lot behind the scenes) he’s very strategic with the way he does things. He’s competitive, when he wants something he will do what he needs to do to get it. (Fun fact I think dream has one to so just imagine that)

Scorpio’s ruler is Pluto, mars can also talk a lot about our sexual style and shit. He could like to have sex with someone he’s close with, I could see a close friendship before dating someone even. He could have weird or taboo kinks. I could see maybe sex wasn’t talked about as much to him as a kid which brings me to my next topic

Saturn in the 5th house, Saturn shows us where we are restricted, things that won’t come to us until way later in life, 5th house is literally everything that fulfills us and pleases us. Dating could’ve been slowed down for him growing up, I see this placement with people who were the “ugly ducklings” as a kid sometimes then get attractive later in life. He probably didn’t get with a lot of his crushes as a kid, these types of people are AKWARD as hell around the people they like. He won’t have children until way later in life that’s for sure. This man’s probably not lying if he where to say he’s still a virgin.

(but to be fair Saturn can also (imo) show us shit that happened to early (but most times to late)

-

He has a Jupiter in the 6th house he has a lot of luck(or will) with his health, work and day to day life. Maybe even good immune system.

Now time for the elephant in the room, he has an Aquarius stellium, this shows me he prolly don’t mind being weird. he could be a very detached person (sensitive to) he could hate when things he was gate keeping get popular. It’s in his second house so music could be a big thing here, he could be a good singer with a unique voice.

His chart is pretty much Saturn ruled I can tell he’s had a tough life when it comes down to it but I can’t help but notice his mental health.

He has a Chiron in the 12th house, I can see his mental health might not be the best, along with Pluto in the 12th house, he’s definitely had a lot of trauma and transformation when it comes to his subconscious.

He’s definitely prone to addiction so he should watch it.

-

His north node is in the seventh house, in this life time he’s going to have to learn to let go of his ego, he’s mastered getting to know himself. he’s meant to learn about others. He’d make a great therapist, something helping others.

He has a Virgo in the ninth house, I could see he could be a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to working and learning observant student. Good grades in school.

He has an Aries in the fourth, he could be his raw self around his loved ones. His loved ones could see the unfiltered version of him. His family could see the angry side of him as well, (his mood swings)

Yeah this is all I got on the 24 year old virgin man child thanks for reading, copyright by me Bitch.

[alilobsessive]

Amazing crossover au!!!

Mayday!Reader is Crow!Reader’s child.💥💥

So Mayday!R meets the Batfam in a different way than in ‘canon’ and is basically seen strapped to Crow!R’s chest (with their own little spider baby suit).

omg.. omgomgomgomgomgomgomg YES! The DRAMA! THE INTRIGUE! Not just between Bat’s but between spider spouse as well! Knowing Crow Reader there probably supper open to their partner that there a supervillain, but knowing the spider dumassery Spider Spouse probably thinks Crow being a mad scientist is a running joke. Like there well aware of Crow’s Day job and all there science degrees, but them being a Villain? There sweet loving partner that could do no wrong ever, the other parent to there child? Completely unthinkable, it has to be a joke based on the aforementioned information, it has to be! But is spider open about there own powers? Well they kinda had to be before Mayday got here that’s for sure. But if Crow figured out that Spider Spouse is the local spider? Idk man, it would be more dramatic if they didn’t. But Crow is super intelligent, like scarily so. Crow probably figured all this out when they were still dating but never confronted them because they wanted Spider to tell them when there ready. Then so many years passed since then that Crow just, forgot they never had that talk.

Whenever Mayday is at “work” with either parent they use different costumes and names. I admittedly don’t think the Batclan and Spider Spouse have that close of a working relationship in either timeline. Like they respect each other but don’t often step on the other’s toes or actively try to interact. So the Bats probably new Spider Spouse has a kid but has never met them, until Crow starts bringing around there kid but they haven’t contacted the dots. When with Crow Mayday is in a built proof baby sling with a dumb bird mask on and isn’t allowed to use there powers. Or can’t depend’s on what age we’re thinking because in the borderline mech suit Crow wears they could probably continue carrying Mayday until there like 5. Definitely longer but buy 5 there actively fighting being carried. They have now been toddler leashed instead.

Also thank you for the ask! I was literally moments away from getting on my knees and begging for some.

On a completely unrelated note

Spider Spouse: So there’s this group called the Spider Society, it’s basically a place full of alternate Universe versions of me and we all just kinda hang out together. Sometimes fight multi dimensional crime.

Crow: oh ya I have that to, except we all just get drunk and sometimes try to fist fight each other.

Spider Spouse: *laughs thinking it’s a joke*

Crow 100% serious mumbling under there breath: there’s some weird shenanigans going on with me, you and are kid there and I don’t think I like it.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 59

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1500

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Half sitting up, I sighed:

"What do you want, Jules? I'm a bit busy here!"

He made a doubtful face from his 6’3” frame.

"You’re busy?"

He wasn’t wrong. I was lying in the grass, alone. He sat down next to me, keeping some distance between us. A silence settled, which he broke after a few seconds, speaking to me while still looking ahead.

"I know I went a bit too far tonight..."

Jules, repentant, unbelievable. I laughed bitterly.

"Tonight? The past few days too, Jules..."

He crossed his arms around his knees, still looking at the horizon.

"At the same time, do you think it’s easy for me? When I said what I said, it was to provoke. Hugo just killed me there..."

He paused for a few seconds, then continued:

"Mom, she didn’t say anything, but her look was sad... I think that was even worse. She just asked why I reacted like that, and I explained what happened last night..."

"Yeah, our little argument..." I added.

A new silence fell. Jules grabbed several blades of grass, breaking them mechanically, showing a tension he was trying to hide. I wanted to listen to him and let him speak, let him open up.

"I don’t handle it well, so I react like this. Hugo’s cool, he doesn’t care, but I can’t do it. The fact that I knew you before, that I liked you, and then you’re with my mom... and maybe you’re doing all of this for her in the end... the internship with you, and everything else..."

I shook my head. So, he thought I did it all for him just to please his mother.

"No, Jules, I did it because I wanted to. Because I like you. And you’re really good at it too. Trust me, I wouldn’t have taken Hugo for an internship in my office! He’d manage to build me a house with round corners!"

Hugo hated numbers, math, except when it came to cooking, his passion. I often teased him about that, which he always took with good humor. Jules cracked a smile at that mention, then resumed a more serious look, turning to face me, looking at me for the first time in our conversation, with his light blue eyes. The same as Lucy's.

"And then, you know, it’s not always easy having a mom at that level of politics. You get comments sometimes, at school, from teachers, friends who don’t agree with what she’s doing or saying. I can’t even imagine what people will say when they find out… when they find out what..."

I helped him finish his thought.

"When they find out she’s with a woman…"

"Yeah, exactly... I knew my parents were going to divorce, but that’s never easy to accept. And then, she gets with you…"

He took a breath.

"I mean, I’m not against gay people, really not, I have gay friends!" he added.

I knew that well enough. Jules was tolerant and open-minded. Very sensitive too.

"But my mom... I don’t know, it feels weird..."

He lowered his head, looking for his words.

It was me who picked up the conversation again.

"I understand, Jules, let’s not lie, the situation isn’t the easiest. It hasn’t been for your mom, for me, and I understand it’s not for you either... We don’t all react the same way to the same situation..."

It was my turn to think, to weigh my words.

"But I think that’s sometimes how life is. There’s not always clarity, or logic. It just hits us. Of course, there will be remarks, looks, I can’t tell you otherwise. I’ve experienced it myself..."

"And how did you handle it?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"It’s hard, it’s difficult, but I promise you, you come out stronger! Either you take it all too much to heart and ruin your life for people who aren’t worth it, or you move on! And I’m not just talking about this specific situation, I’m talking about life in general..."

"You’re probably right..."

"It’s not easy, I know Jules... But, here’s the thing, I sincerely love your mom, so what do I do? Am I going to give up all of this for looks and words?"

I left my sentence hanging, my throat tight. Another silence settled, allowing me to collect my thoughts. Jules turned slightly more toward me:

"I’m going to try to make an effort, accept it, stop being such a Twat!"

In his attitude and words, he had taken a step toward me. I smiled at him.

"You’re not a Twat, Jules, I was just pissed off..."

"No, but sometimes, a little bit, you’re right!"

Jules' piercing blue eyes seemed a little calmer at that moment. The wind blew a little harder. In the distance, the voice of the announcer announced the arrival of the last band of the evening.

"I... I need to meet some friends to listen to the band, one of my friends is the guitarist..."

"Of course, go ahead Jules… It was really good that we talked, you know..."

He nodded, then stood up, adjusting his sweatshirt and brushing off the blades of grass from his jeans. Before leaving, he asked me this question:

"We’re going to be okay, right?"

As if to reassure himself, and me.

I smiled at him, a smile tinged with a hint of worry.

"I’ll tell you yes once I’ve talked to Lucy again..."

"You two had a fight?"

"A little more than that… well, especially me!"

Before leaving, he slipped me this phrase, a smile at the corner of his lips.

"You know, very few people raise their voice at my mom, she’s just not used to it... And it doesn’t do her any harm! She must love you for that too, Ona..."

I smiled back, though it didn’t ease my doubts about the consequences of our argument with Lucy. As he walked off toward the concert, I felt lighter for having talked to Jules. I lay back in the grass. 

Of course, such a story also has consequences for those close to us. Especially an adolescent. We were both stuck in our own thought patterns, categorizing our reactions, not trying enough to understand each other, or to communicate. Jules wasn’t a bad guy. He was very sensitive, asked himself a thousand questions, had imagined a lot of things on his own.

I looked at my phone: No message from Lucy. I wasn’t sure what to do anymore, whether I should write her, call her, or wait... I too was asking myself those 1001 questions. I sighed, I wasn’t going to spend the whole night lying on this grass, overthinking! I decided to join my friends and listen to the last concert. Whatever happens!

---

I found them quite quickly, standing next to the main bar, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. Alexia was surprised when she saw me, thinking I had left. She pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tightly.

"So happy to see you, my beautiful!"

The rest of the group smiled at me, half curious, half awkward, not knowing what to say about the incident. Of course, they’d figured it out. I decided to get ahead of them:

"Well, I think you all know now, with Lucy..."

I left the sentence hanging. Excitement quickly spread among our little group.

"Unbelievable! I can’t believe it!" Margot exclaimed with a big smile.

"When I think about what I said earlier, international shame, you must’ve wanted to crucify me right there!" 

It was Rémi, the principal, who did indeed seem somewhat embarrassed. I gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"No, because you don’t stand a chance!"

The whole group burst out laughing.

"Oh, come on! Still, what a catch, you’re really a little sneak!" he added.

"So when’s the official introduction?" asked Mathis with a mischievous eye.

"Well, I don’t even know if we’re still together..." I added with a weary tone.

Alexia shrugged.

"Of course you are, stop! Don’t listen to her! Their story is a bit like *Santa Barbara* but it always ends well!"

"Because you knew from the start, right?" asked Mathis, now with a more inquisitive look.

"Not exactly, but almost! And it has to be said, it’s thanks to me!"

Olga raised her eyebrows in amusement.

"Always so modest, darling..."

The conversation was lively, in a little hum, with questions flying around. Even though I wasn’t the most comfortable, being the target of their many questions, I was happy to share this important part of my life, this story that had started two years ago, with my friends.

Suddenly, I spotted Lucy, several meters away from me, moving from person to person, shaking hands, greeting people, starting conversations here and there. She was smiling, hiding any sign of her potential emotions. My heart tightened, and I didn’t take my eyes off her, listening to the others with a distracted ear.

As she was talking to a couple, our gazes met. She lifted her face toward me, her piercing blue eyes not leaving mine.

My heart started to beat a little faster.

[shrimptacodaniels]

when life gives you letters…

come out to your estranged younger brother.

(that’s how the phrase goes, right?)

enjoy ;)

—

Brendan Michael Hahn was better than anyone at letting things go. He had been since birth. Never much of a crier, just a sweet, agreeable baby.

“Like water off a duck’s back,” his father would marvel, watching young Brendan topple over and get right back up. “The kid just lets life happen.” 

Here’s the thing about letting life happen - too often, it turns into life passing you by.

Somehow, life’s led them straight to the post office. 

Somehow, even though they’re already here, Brendan can’t get out of the car. 

They groan in frustration. Taking life by the balls is hard. But their friends and their partner and their therapist and…well…a centaur and a chauffeur and a Renaissance painter (and their high school principal) are rooting for them. So. 

“Okay, let’s look at this one more time,” they mutter to themselves. Coaching themself through scary steps has proven to be very effective. Hands shaking, they unfold the letter once more. 

Hey brother, 

We haven’t talked in a while. Really, ever. You don’t know me for who I am. I’m sorry I never showed you, but I’m ready now. 

This is Brendan. Your older sibling. Surprise!! Not a guy. I guess that’s the first thing you wouldn’t know about me - that I’m nonbinary. I’ve never come out to someone in a letter, sorry if this is awkward. But that’s a good place to start. I think. 

I’m living in Los Angeles right now. Not too far from home. You got out of here, though! Good for you. You’re not missing much. LA’s mostly drugs and homeless people and comedy shows. Those sound fun - I haven’t been to one yet. Maybe someday. 

Dropped out of college my Sophomore year. It wasn’t for me - I was always good at school growing up, you know that, but I needed a change. I apprenticed under an electrician and I have my own practice. Film was the dream. I still think about it, sometimes. But it might be time to let that go. 

In happier news, I’m in therapy! Had a…very interesting intervention from some old friends. And now I’m really working on myself.

I’ve started watercolor painting at Griffith Park (remember Griffith?) I’ll walk around in the observatory sometimes, too. It’s a good way to meet people (which I need to get better at). 

Enough about me. You probably don’t need an older sibling now. You’re grown up - Ma says you’re doing well. Are you? You were always a smart kid. It’d be nice to hear you yell at me again. That sounds weird. Sorry. I just miss you. 

Remember your stint in Mock Trial? You were a Defense Attorney as a freshman, which really freaked you out. That ever go anywhere? You were good. Didn’t have anything to worry about. 

All that to say, I want to get to know you. I think that’s long overdue. If you don’t want that, though, I’d understand. So consider this an open invitation - take it or leave it. Ball’s in your court, Josh. 

Love you. 

-Brendan 

It’s awkward. It’s earnest. 

“But it’s honest,” they whisper. That’s more than enough. 

The letter gets tucked away, and with a stamp stuck squarely in the corner, they’re ready. They lock the car doors behind them as they walk up to the entrance. 

It’s not too busy inside. Just a little stuffy. 

Now or never. 

They run their thumb along the envelope’s edge once more, and let it go. 

Lets it go and go and go until it’s safe in the hands of an unsuspecting Joshua Azriel Hahn. He’s frozen on his own doorstep. 

“Hey, love?” he calls to his girlfriend, unable to tear his eyes away from the letter. “Can you come here?” 

And they read it together, jammed on his couch, because he’ll need to talk about it all after he’s done. He insists she needs all of the context. She’s just happy he trusts her. 

“You gonna write him back?” Rachel asks, resting her cheek atop his head. 

“Maybe.” He sighs. “Grudges suck, anyway. There are better things to hold on to.” 

Like a plane ticket, which is what Josh buys not even a week later. He packs his bags in the very early morning and kisses Rachel soundly as he leaves. This is a trip he’ll have to do alone. 

Katrina drives him to the airport. 

“Scared?” she asks, because she sees right through him, even in the dark. 

“Little bit.” 

She nods, keeping her eyes on the road. There’s nothing to say, really. Most people would cut in with a placating “nothing to worry about” or “just take a deep breath.” 

Katrina’s not most people. She lets the silence speak for itself. Josh knows she only asked because he needed to hear himself admit out loud that, although spontaneous, this trip isn’t easy. And that, even after acknowledging the fact of the matter, things were still okay. Hell, things could be better than okay. 

So yeah. He loves his best friend, honors her choice, and lets the sweet silence linger. 

Not for long.  

“Wakey, wakey!” she sings shrilly at him once they’ve pulled up to his check-in point. “We’re here.” 

He smiles softly at her antics, pulling her in with one arm to rest his head against hers. 

“Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone.” 

“Duh,” she snorts. “Who would my alibi be?” 

“Right answer.” He draws back, lifting his backpack and opening the truck door in one fluid motion. “Drive safe.” 

“Always.”

“Well-“

“Don’t,” she warns. “Don’t even start.” 

“Love you.” 

“Love you more.” 

“Love you mos-“ 

But she’s reached to shut the door in his face before he finishes. He flips her off through the window. She honks twice in retaliation, then weaves her way into the traffic. 

Yeah, he thinks as he walks through the airport’s automatic doors, this’ll be fine. 

—

Brendan’s just settled down to eat when someone rings the doorbell. They let it ring out for a moment, taking the time to ponder who it could be. One tap of their phone confirms it’s not one of their friends - they’ve got no new notifications. Weird. They shuffle to the door, squinting through the peephole. 

They can’t breathe. Frantically, they fumble to open the door. 

“Brendan?” the visitor starts nervously. “I’m your-“ 

Brendan throws their arms around him before he can properly introduce himself.

“Hi.” 

There’s a startled silence before either sibling can speak. 

“You look just like Dad,” Brendan whispers, “In a good way.” 

A startled laugh rumbles from Josh. “Thanks? You look nothing like him. In a really good way. Got lucky.”

The pair exhale a half-chuckle at the same time. Same timbre. Like they haven’t forgotten how to be a family. 

Wow. Maybe you never forget. 

(Maybe there are some things you always hold on to.)